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#princely prattling
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Terry in episode 2: Haha, let's talk about my farts! :)
Terry in episode 3: I killed a man.
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autismmydearwatson · 9 months
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Has this been done
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general-mahamatra · 2 years
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Brian Thomas core
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enchantedfrogprince · 7 months
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My hands aren't working too well again... I will do my best to keep working on my art, but it's going to be slow...
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murdering-time · 1 year
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..Then let's change course; no need to dwindle on the doctor if it'll bring forth uncomfort. How about we talk about something pleasant?
How about Miss Pleasance? She seems to keep your spirits up- how's she been?
Or have you gotten into any new books lately? I'v'n't read it, but The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe has sounded interesting, and deals with a 'new' world- similar to Alice in Wonderland, do you think?
-- ☎️
"Oh, Miss Pleasance! Yes!" His face lit up at that, pure unadulterated joy. That was to say if joy could have been filtered to begin with, which was a very odd concept for the hatter to grasp.
Really, the man wasn't one to be aware or fond of filtered emotion. Why should he? That's almost as absurd as a pocket being correct more than twice a day!
"She is really wonderful, I cannot wait for you t9 meet her! We were talking the other day, when I took her around Gotham, about Wonderland and I managed to dance with her and just this morning I was thinking to surprise her once more!" The man rambled.
"Oh. But the tea party! The tea party indeed! I am elated! Ecstatic! I do hope she enjoys the company! She's been so awfully sad and tired that I'd only want the best for her --"
Hatta stopped himseld, quelled the glee and with a timid chuckle he cleared his throat. "I - I'm afraid with your other enquieries I wouldn't know. I tended to... never stray from Wonderland. Oh! But do tell me how it is if you do read about Witches and Wardrobes!"
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rxsehearts · 6 months
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𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙆𝙏𝙊𝘽𝙀𝙍 𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏. 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍/𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙑𝘼𝙉𝙏
#malleus draconia x fem!reader : after deciding to take on the role of malleus’s servant for the week on lilia’s request, you find yourself in way over your head. luckily for you, you’re more than happy to fuck your master on the job.
mdni. cws: adult content, master/servant roleplay, food play, nipple play, double penetration in one hole, nonhuman/monster cocks and anatomy, magic usage, (stretching spell) creampies, marking, breeding, hair pulling, and mentions of pregnancy. more under the cut. nav, kinktober m.list.
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lilia knew of the prefect’s desperation for money, along with the dragon fae prince’s desperation to plow his cocks into her, and with his mischievous mind he found a way to set it all up in a way that didn’t really ring any alarm bells, at least for you. you listen to him prattle that he was going to visit somewhere with silver and sebek, but malleus would be staying at the dorms for a week. your task to gain a few madol, or rather quite a decent compared to other places, was simply to be there for malleus throughout the week in their stead. you wanted to ask about other diasomnia members, but he reminded you that most students respected or feared him keeping malleus at a distance, and even he’d get lonely too.
this made sense to you, at least for the most part. if lilia, silver, and sebek were all gone there weren’t many who could approach malleus like they did, and even on campus you were the only one willing to get so close and chat with him while knowing his true identity. this was a bit of an odd task, but nothing too suspicious to you, as you didn’t know a thing about how any of this would of worked in this world and working as a servant for a week wasn’t that bad now, especially with that kind of paycheck, was it?
you’d gone over to diasomnia, dressed in a maid’s dress that lilia gave to you and winked, telling you to wear so the other students in the dorm knew your purpose there. it was far too late to back out as he already handed you half the paycheck up front before leaving while sticking his tongue out. “make sure you young ones have protection!” you weren’t quite sure what he meant, was being a royal that life threatening that you’d need constant protection? that was the purpose of his guards, so maybe if it were this life threatening you were in over your head. and in over your head you were as you find yourself pouring a bitter brew of tea for your new temporary master, as his fingers massaged at your breasts.
he told you to keep going, as you had no clue how it’d got to this point as lilia’s words replayed in your head, the old bastard had probably set this up. knowing him, he’d probably told malleus something completely different from you, and it raised red flags in your head you failed to notice beforehand, such as why malleus was excluded, or how come he couldn’t just come over or invite you over normally if he got lonely. instead, here you were in a tight, short, and revealing maids dress being fondled by your master in his room. you manage to successful pour the tea despite your breasts practically on full display from the maids dress upper half being unsupported and slipping, your cheeks getting redder by the second. if lilia had straight up asked you if you wanted to fuck malleus, your answer would of been an embarrassing yes but no, he went out of his way to get you to be dressed as a servant and obeying your master’s every command, even if that meant fucking you stupid. the horniest part of you, though, was living for this.
“master, your tea is ready, please drink it before it gets cold.” you remind him that you were just pouring his tea and not standing there specifically to be fondled by his cold, large, and rough fingers even if your body’s response were positive. you were a bit surprised to even see him go along with this, wondering just what lilia did or said to him for him to be so into this, feeling his erection from behind poking at you. you had no clue how much he yearned to fuck you stupid for months, holding himself back but was finally losing it as his possessive instincts kicked in, with the way you dressed just for him and his eyes, as he had control over you as your master for the next week. he was never one to get horny before, but even now he felt tremendously aroused as his fingers both pinched at a nipple, leaving your breasts exposed as he tried to calm himself and take it slow.
that plan lasted about five minutes before he found himself placing you on his lap, ripping the dress down further as he cooled off the tea with a spell instantly, feeling your head press into the crevice of his neck as you gasp out. “as a servant it’s your responsibility to please me, no matter what.” he finds himself growling into your ear as he pours the tea over your breasts, watching the dark liquid trickle down your soft flesh, and onto your pebbled nipples as he leans his head down, sucking on it. his teeth graze over your nipple, making you whimper out feeling how sharp they were as he sucked roughly, tongue lapping up the tea he just poured all over you, pulling away with a pop before going back and licking around your breasts where the tea spilt, before moving onto the other side and doing the same. your voice wasn’t quiet, you were sure others could hear you regardless as fae had good hearing, so you didn’t bother censoring yourself and giving him the wrong impression that you weren’t interested in being fucked by your master.
“master, ngh..” you moan out, one of your breasts being groped, the other being sucked on as his teacup, and his cocks grow harder from calling him master. you could feel them poking your ass while your hands are tugging at his hair, toes curling at the sensation. his tongue looked human enough to you, but the feeling was a bit different than what you’d typically expect. it was longer than anticipated, you wondered how, but also had a distinct sticky feeling his saliva easily coating your breasts all over as he finally pulls away from the swollen areola, making you breathless. you could only huff a he pulled away. “get up, lay on the bed now.” he ordered with a cold yet possessive undertone. you could tell he were also trying to play along with the whole servant and master thing, but he was getting impatient and wanting to get into the actual act, putting his cocks in your throbbing cunt.
you do as ordered, arousal pooling in your panties as you get onto his large bed, laying down on your back as you swallow, your eagerness growing by the second and he could smell it. he wastes no time climbing above you, making you unbuckle your master’s pants and free his cocks, making you admire the sight before you. two massive cocks, the top one being girthier and longer than anything you’d ever imagined, with the bottom one being slightly less girthier than the first. you’d notice how the tips were black as his hair, with spines covering his cocks. you’d known he was someone with certain nonhuman features, everyone knew, but you didn’t really consider how his dick would also change to fit that standard. he was pleasantly happy, smelling your arousal growing instead of fear from his dicks, lilia was right, you really did want to get fucked.
he considered foreplay, but he waited far too long for this. your smell, whines, and body was also driving him insane as he muttered a small spell aloud that lilia taught him earlier, giving you a quick warning. “no need to worry, you’ll take them both without issue.” it was a bit ambiguous, but you trusted him that it’d probably been something to help you stretch and adjust to his size. he was one of the top five wizards, you had no reason to doubt that he could do such a feat. he proceeded to start pushing his top cock into you, where you could feel how he was filling you up more and more than any other dildo or man ever could as your fingers were once again in his hair, tugging at him. “master!” you huffed out.
he let out a groan enjoying the sensation, and looking at the way you looked taking his top cock. within a minute of fitting the top one in, he worked on getting the second in, seeing how the spell was working as you weren’t in any sort of pain throughout the process. after a few minutes, he managed to fit both his cocks inside of you, slowly thrusting as you were already mewling and crying out his name in pleasure. hearing your cries of master and malleus fueled his ego further, picking up the pace and letting his animalistic instincts take over as fingers went straight back to your breasts, his tongue lapping and biting over them as he cocks brutalized your cunt, it’s already stuffing you to the point he could see them in your stomach when he thrusted, but he kept going harder and faster.
“master, ngh malleus!” you moaned out, toes curling and your fingers now wrapped firmly around his sensitive horns as he’s groaning, growling, and toying with you. you could feel his precum and your slick working as a natural lube for him to easily stretch and slam into you, eyes rolling and throat sore from shouting his name like it was some kind of chant, his head buried in your chest leaving hickeys all over marking you as his. not just as a servant to her master, but his lover. you knew that after today, you’d be his, both in mind and body. every single part of you would be his, just as much as he would be your’s. it was a nonconventional way for both of you to confess to one another, nonverbally at that, but neither of you bothered to complain as you were getting the best fucking of your life, and him getting the best fucking of his.
“i’m cumming!” you tell him as he continues, feeling how tight you were on him despite stretching your cunt. an absolute sopping mess as you feel a chill run down your spine, your cunt twitching and squeezing him as he continues slamming in your and making a mess of your breasts, cumming on his cocks. he doesn’t stop, he keeps going and going riding out your high and doesn’t even seem close to cumming. not until your second orgasm, only then does he cum after you, shocking you at how much cum he shot up. his thick and hot globs of semen were in over abundance, spilling out of you despite him forcing you to take all of it, fingers trying to push more in as he growled over the thought of you spilling any. “going to make sure you’re mine after this,” you could barely hear him hiss. “all mine. with my children.” you weren’t sure what he were saying anymore as he filled you with his cum, your eyes barely staying open as you tug on his horns as he prepared for round two.
and it’s not like lilia would mind you failed to head his warnings about protection, he was the instigator of this after all. maybe when he returns he’d come back with some sort of gift for the baby, he’d been missing the feeling of parenting and raising a baby for awhile now that silver’s grown.
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tagging: @candlewitch-cryptic, @witherfag. had like three thoughts on this fic. ended up with this version, though might do another or other versions sometime later, down the road as a future alternative end. wanted one like the manga innocent servant beastly master trope, and the other was horny girlfriend wants to be dicked roleplay.
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©rxsehearts. dn repost, translate or plagiarize.
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bystarlightlore · 7 months
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first things first: my boys are so touchy & affectionate with each other & it's the cutest, most adorable thing on planet earth.
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i die.
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moving on...
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sweet alex, he’s all heart. prattling along, just as happy as he can be. 
it’s integral to watch our sunshine boy in this scene. 
the book & film are both from alex’s perspective, but there’s one thing that we’re afforded between the pages that doesn’t fully make it on screen — his emotional & cognitive layers. & that’s not anybody’s fault & it doesn’t make the film any less incredible, that’s just how adaptations occur sometimes. you can’t translate everything on screen & honestly, that’s the way it should be. some things can just stay in the written story.
tzp did a marvelous job of pulling some of those pieces from the story & threading them into alex’s movements, expressions, & actions. he gave us everything that he could & he did it phenomenally. i can’t imagine anyone else being our alex. i can’t get over how perfectly he was casted.
all this to reiterate, it’s so key to watch alex here.
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we get to see some of his layers. he goes from playful, to pensive, to deeply sincere — “i��ve never felt this way about anyone” — & from there, he shifts into an incredibly exposed emotional space & you see him gather himself, working through his words & trying to share his heart in the most fluent way he can.
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“it’s like there’s a rope attached to my chest & it keeps pulling me towards you.”
there’s never been a moment in his life where can’t share exactly how he feels. he’s always been free to do so. for alex, there was never a question about if he’d tell henry, the question was what he’d tell henry, & once he solved the what, he could proceed with the when. 
his mom asked if he felt ‘forever’ about henry & he didn’t consciously know at the time. (i’m a firm believer in the fact that they’ve been in love all along but that’s not the topic right now.) he watches henry in the bar & that’s where he figures it out. the next step is to tell him. point a to b. no detours. 
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“& it feels so right”
all heart, all the time. our sunshine boy.
i don’t see fear here, i rarely do in alex, but i do see timidity. so with our eyes on him in this scene, we watch him waffle through his words, barreling toward the inevitable.
he stays in physical contact with henry the entire time — running his hands along his forearm, tangling their fingers together, tracing circles on henry’s wrist & back. i think he needs it here just as much as he wants it.
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the most that alex has ever discovered & understood about himself has been through touching henry. he knows himself best when he’s skin-to-skin with the man he loves.
this moment cannot be any different.
—- “what i mean to say is, henry, i—“ 
i’d give anything to hear it come out of his mouth fully here. i want to know how it sounds under the texas sun — someplace as bright & warm as he is.
alex has never had to fear his own heart; even in the moments where he wasn't sure where it was going. after the NYE kiss, he went to nora to grapple with his feelings & he tried to talk to henry about it, but he never, ever shied away from how he felt. he wasn't raised to. following that giant, gorgeous heart is in his nature. he's always been encouraged to be exactly who he is.
the same cannot be said for our prince.
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our mythic, beautiful boy. he literally looks like he's crumbling here. mournful, finite cracks in his glistening, alabaster stone. an absolute masterpiece withered by expectation, tainted legacies, hopeless hopes, & crippling fears.
he has to shy away. he doesn't believe or even entertain the idea that he might have a choice. to be so in love, but so trapped that your love can tangle its roots into the earth, but never bloom.
distance & longing take up far too much space in those stunning hazel eyes. it's all too much for him here. no fight or fawn, just freeze and flight. he did it all in expression: from pure bliss, to the dawn of fear, to desperate wanting, to heartbreak, to retreat. (nicholas galitzine, you wonderfully gifted creature)
in our prince’s head, it doesn’t matter how bad he wants to hear the words. it doesn’t matter if he’s loved alex & wanted alex all this time. his heart — their hearts — are of no consequence to the trajectory of their lives. & so, despite all this time; despite everything that’s passed between them in the past year — the firsts & the tender moments, the texts, calls, & emails, the falling in love — henry does the one thing he’s always had to do, lock himself up & run away. just like he did on new year’s eve.
alex has spent a year working him loose; making him feel as free & loved & authentic as he possibly can. he’s kneaded every tight curve, massaged every tensioned inch. & henry has put in the same amount of work learning to allow himself to be cared for. for someone to see his bright places, his passions, his wittiness, tenacity, & sparks.
our boys have grown so much & yet sadly, in a moment, terror bends henry back into an ill -fitting place.
the progress isn’t lost, just tucked away. fear is one hell of a keeper.
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& you see him dressed up again in his suit. ramrod straight, prim & proper, the closed-off prince of england’s hearts that climbed out of his car to meet alex at kensington a year ago. a man of few words & little feeling. because there’s too much risk in feeling. feeling leads you to a dock in the middle of the lake in texas, listening to the man you love willing & ready to love you back, but you can’t be overjoyed — because you’re terrified.
grab your tissues, kids. im sure as hell grabbing mine.
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hxllblazer-a · 2 years
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you asked someone to marry you? was this before or after you caught the attention of every prince in hell?
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".... 'course now is when y' little bastards get nosy." Grumble grumble.
"One, the bloody piss y' mean caught the attention of every prince in Hell? Only one of 'em bastards is openly after me and he's the one that makes the others piss in their sleep. Two... yeah. Long time ago. 's not like I'm not open to the idea things are just... complicated is all."
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dotster001 · 6 months
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Can I ask angst when they break up with reader to try date other person just to notice they still in love with reader, but now reader is with someone else (i hope is not confuse) with Jade, Floyd, Vil, and Leona?
A/N: normally, I'm not a huge fan of writing angst...but I had way too much fun with this 😁
3k followers masterlist
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"I've got everything I can from you. So it's time for me to let you go. Good luck to you."
Jade said it with a cruel smile on his face, a smile you had grown quite familiar with the six months you'd been dating. In pure confusion, you'dasked him to clarify what the fuck he just told you. He bowed politely, and gave an "of course" before saying it in an even colder way.
He had used all your connections. He had gotten all the information he could with your relationship. So it was over.
Naturally, this was a shock, and absolutely devastating. But he didn't care about your dropped jaw, or the tears slowly starting to pick up in speed as they trickled down your face. You left the room, and that was that.
He returned to his room to call his next target, a first year student who was a prince of a small nation. As he sent a quick message, Floyd stopped tossing the basketball he was playing with, and asked, "If you're finally done with Y/N, can I have them now?"
Floyd had been in love with you months before Jade was even interested in you as a target, but had held back upon both Jade and Azul's insistence. While his brother was one of them, he had nothing but innocent puppy love for you. A part of Jade figured you'd say no to him, considering they shared a face. So he gave his consent, not even thinking twice.
Three months later, he watched you drop Floyd at the lounge, and press a kiss to his cheek, before slowly pulling away and leaving him to his work. His date, the Prince, asked him if everything was alright, and it was only then he realized how stiff he was. He smiled and gave some excuse that he bought with zero effort.
And while his date continued to prattle on and on about things he should never share with someone he's only been dating for three months, Jade found himself unable to do his job for the first time.
Floyd was happier than he'd been in years, and consistently able to do his job, on the promise of you giving him goodbye kisses. You were happier than Jade had ever seen you. The love in your eyes was something deeper, something stronger, than anything he'd ever seen when you looked at him. And something in him broke when he realized that. 
You never looked at him that way. Was it because a part of you always knew he was using you? Was it because you sensed he didn't feel that way about you? Or was it something worse?
Was he never as good as Floyd?
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"I'm bored," He groaned, standing up from the place he was resting his head on your lap.
"Okay, what do you want to do then?" You asked him.
"Nah. I'm bored of this," he gestured between the two of you.
A part of you had known this was coming. Not because you'd wanted to know, but because your friends had warned you. Especially Riddle, who had evidently been through his own relationship of sorts with Floyd. But you were hoping they were wrong. Your Floyd would never hurt you like that. 
Still, even you couldn't ignore the way he watched the exchange student from Noble Bell. The way he was handsier with them than he'd ever been with you. The way he whispered in their ear when he thought you weren't looking. The way he'd nearly kissed him, but stopped at the last second when he realized you were there.
Instead of letting him repeat it, you stood up, and left your own living room, hellbent on reaching Heartslaybul, where you were in for an "I told you so" speech, but if you sat through that you'd get pity cuddles. You heard him call after you, angry that he wasn't getting the last word, but you couldn't stay there anymore.
Riddle knew when he saw the tears on your cheeks. He sighed, and instead of a lecture, he opened his arms to you, letting you sob in his shoulder, as he gently rubbed your back.
A day later Floyd was dating the exchange student, and all your Heartslaybul friends were helping you avoid the two of them. You'd lost a boyfriend, but had been made aware of the best support system in any world.
Months had passed, and you could almost forget how Floyd had seemingly used you for a fun time. Especially when the resident Queen's arms were always open to you, and his eyes always had hearts in them when they looked at you. A man who would give you the larger half of the strawberry tart, despite you knowing full well how much things like that meant to him.
Floyd, meanwhile, was bored again. He had thought he was bored of you. But after the months of not even seeing a glimpse of you, and doing everything he could to get any emotional stimulation from the exchange student who hadn't realized what he was getting into when the hot second year had slid into his life, he was realizing his blunder. There was just nothing but physical attraction, and even that was fading quickly for Floyd.
But you'd always given him the stimulation he needed. You were always fun. You were always adorable. So squeezable. But now goldfishie was the one squeezing you. He wanted to squeeze goldfishie until he popped. You were his to squeeze!
But when he saw you resting on Riddle's shoulder, his chest ached as he realized he didn't deserve to.
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You and Rook had always joked that he'd steal your boyfriend one day. Vil always rolled his eyes when the two of you would snicker about it, and give you a soft kiss on the cheek, while  smacking the back of Rook's head.
So when the two of them had stood nervously before you, tightly gripping each other's hands, you were devastated, but not surprised.
You didn't want to hear their explanations or excuses. Sevens, they tried, but you knew it would be better not to hear it. You could feel vindicated, not giving them a chance to apologize for hurting you, and it would also spare you the painful details that would only break your heart further.
So after shutting the door in their faces, you'd called a certain someone for a sugar pick me up. Trey arrived with a three tiered cake, and held you gently as you cried and told.him your woes. It wasn't until you started dropping self deprecating comments about how you'd never been worthy of Vil, how you'd always known he would leave you one day, that he shuts you up with a kiss. His jaw drops and he apologizes immediately, telling you he knew it was way too soon to be making any move, he just couldn't stand you talking about yourself that way. It wasn't fair to you.
When he leaves, he apologizes again, and tells you not to worry about him. If you don't see him that way, he'll be fine. If you do….take your time. He's willing to wait for you to be okay again.
And he really is willing to wait. And when you tell him you're willing to give the two of you a shot, a month later, he smiles softly and offers to start with a simple cooking date….literally right then because he has an unbirthday party he has to prepare for, but he also wants to be around you.
While you are slowly slipping into a life of domestic bliss, the cracks are beginning to show with Rook. Anytime Vil isn't perfect, he hears about it, and now….well, Vil isn't stupid enough to miss the way Rook's eye has been wandering over to Neige.
He didn't have to be perfect with you. As he eats the flavorless salad Rook made for him, he watches Trey feed you a chocolate covered strawberry, and playfully kiss away the chocolate that stains the corner of your mouth. Rook says something bitter when he notices, and he always notices, indicating his hypocritical jealousy. 
It's amusing, in a painful way, how Rook pretends he wants what you and Vil used to have. But what he really wants is to keep his pretty doll on its shelf, and all to himself.
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When he'd first expressed interest in you, you had asked him. "Will I be pushed to the side in favor of an arranged marriage, or even just someone with more power?"
And he'd laughed. Nah. No one wanted to be trapped in a marriage with him (his parents had tried), and he didn't want more power. He wanted you.
But his pride was something even he couldn't get past. And when a fae duchess with similar image issues in her own nation had come to him, proposing a marriage of convenience, he had agreed without a thought.
"You're overreacting. We can still be together.' "I don't want- no, I can't be your side piece." "For sevens sake, she has a whole harem at her disposal. It's a marriage in title only." "I don't want that. What happened to what we had being enough?" "You're being selfish, and childish." "I'm being selfish? We could settle down in luxury with what you have!" "If you can't see fit to share me, only nominally, mind you, then go." "I will!"
He was furious. You knew his life. You knew a marriage like this could change life for the both of you. What the fuck were you on about?
Over the next few months he'd begun the courtship process with the duchess, going to boring political events to cement his position within that fae court. He kept expecting you to come crawling back. He'd sneer at you and make you prove you deserved him. At least, that's what he thought at first. But the more time passed, the more he just wanted you back in his arms where you belonged. He even has arranged for his room in the fae kingdom to have an extra large bed, so that you would always be comfortable.
One morning, he heard murmurs throughout Savannahclaw. He saw the side glances, and the hasty hushes as he passed. And he knew.
He stormed over to Diasomnia. Surely you were trying to make him hurt. And the best way to do that was for you to start seeing Draconia.
But when he started yelling at the lizard, he had nothing but confusion on his face. Yes, he found you very attractive, but no, he wasn't courting you. Leona was about to yell at him, tell him he couldn't lie to him, when you entered the room…on Vanrouge's arm.
Your eyes widened, and flickered between him and the lizard, before you groaned and rolled your eyes. You whispered something to Lilia, and the two of you were about to leave when he got the urge to yell at you. 
"That scrawny twerp will never be able to love you like I can!"
You slowly turned to look at him, and sneered, before saying, "Thank God for that."
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stormgardenscurse · 15 days
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‘do you remember? back when…’
Summary: a childhood friends AU! Well, Lilia’s is more like ‘back in our youth’ rather than childhood, but you get the gist.
Characters: Lilia, Malleus, Riddle, Jamil, Vil
Content warning: the Reader is gender neutral, but it’s mentioned they’ve worn dresses in Malleus’ part.
If you liked this, consider checking out my TWST Isekai Fanbook, now digitally available on my kofi!
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Lilia Vanrouge
Back when you were both training to be knights, you mistook Lilia for a girl at first. 
In your defense, it’s simply because of how pretty he is, yet so cutthroat and lithe on his feet that you swear this is what they mean by ‘angels of death’ descending on a battlefield. 
Lilia calls you weird for comparing him to that when he much prefers to think of himself as some type of demon, or harbinger of doom.
“Do I still not look intimidating enough for you?” He’d asked, sharp teeth flashing with the question as the both of you leaned against the railings on the castle rooftop. Lilia angles his head back to gaze at you, and you think to yourself how it exposes the pale skin of his neck, which he’d never show to any opponent in a fight.
Two of your fingers reach to tap on that expanse of skin, causing Lilia to freeze from the contact. He tilts his head, comfortable enough that he hasn’t decided to shove you away yet. 
“It’s just… you seem more mortal to me.” You shrug. “As mortal as a fae can be, anyways. I can reach out and touch you, and I would walk away unharmed.”
“That’s because I allow you to.” Lilia rolls his eyes. He finally steps away, picking up his weapon — heavy and gleaming emerald. From beneath his lashes, he gives you a challenging smile as he flips and catches it in his hand. “Care to spar before we turn in for the night?”
“Maybe you’re a vampire after all.” You pretend to be tired of his late requests, but follow Lilia down to the training grounds regardless. “The kind that human kingdoms are romanticizing in their newest novels. Sparkly under the sunlight.”
“If you’d like to sleep already, I’d be more than happy to croon you a lullaby.”
“You’ll only do so after I’m defeated on the ground, I’m sure.” With a pause, you give Lilia a proposal. “If I win, I’ll sing to you instead. But I’m not carrying you back to your dorm.”
“Oh? It’s a deal, then.”
Ever since, you can’t be sure if Lilia likes to throw your sparring matches just for the chance to hear you sing. You don’t often do so (you’re knights, after all), so he regards it as a secret side of you that only he gets to witness. You only come to this contemplation after feelings spark between you — face flushed as you wonder what to do next when you’ve fallen for someone so impossible.
He’s already been keeping you up at night with his nocturnal tendencies and hangouts… and now this?! 
Malleus Draconia
It helps that as children, you never truly processed who Malleus was until a little later in your friendship. You were told he’s the son of the royal advisor, and so you prattled to him with questions of what the crown prince is like. He’d answer vaguely, sometimes saying that His Royal Highness has bad habits, and you’d nod along, hanging onto his every word.
Malleus soon realizes that you don’t care as much for ‘the prince’ as much as you did for him as your mysterious friend. You were both lonely noble-children, and you enjoyed sharing treats, flowers, and any new thing you could with Malleus. Once, he even tried on the trendiest dresses with you out of curiosity, and you lamented the fact that he could’ve made a beautiful girl.
No one would dare say that to him in any lifetime, other than you. Though to be fair, you didn’t know he was the prince yet. 
“Flowers look wonderful in your hair! Since it’s dark, they stand out.” You continue weaving yellow and blue blooms into Malleus’ locks. “...Hey, what do you think life would be like if we were regular children?”
“Not nobles, you mean?” He hums, helping you decorate your hair once you’re done with his. He casts an easy spell to dye your hair with highlights to match the dress. “I suppose we’d be towns-children frolicking without a care in the world.”
“We’d still be friends, right…?”
Malleus pauses at the anxious edge in your voice. Perhaps you were just as reliant on this comforting friendship as he was. He tells himself to hide his status for a little while longer. “Of course. Our parents would still be acquainted, and we’d still have playdates — only running through the roads rather than castle halls.”
It’s hard to find a real friend amongst noble children. Some cling to their families, others are picky or judgmental, and…
A lot are only friends for as long as the other is useful.
“We should have an outing in the city one day.” You smile, trying to fight away the heavy air. “I’m sure you’d like the marketplace. I’ve only seen it from inside a carriage, but it looks fun.”
Soon, the outing is arranged. However…
“Before we go, there’s something I need to tell you.” Malleus takes your hands in his, squeezing them as if to ground himself in the moment. Time passes quickly for the fae, but his heart is beating out of his chest at what your reaction might be.
…He ends up delaying this reveal until the end of your excursion. But the last thing he expects is for your eyes to well up with tears and for you to latch onto him in a hug.
“I’m… I’m so sorry—! If only I was more reliable, you wouldn’t have to keep this a secret, and…”
As you let out a hiccup and continue apologizing, Malleus’ confusion melts into a soft smile, hugging you back. 
Riddle Rosehearts
Riddle’s mother didn’t know about your existence for a while, as you’d always sneak over to his window after she left the house. You claimed you knew how accomplished his family is, so you told Riddle you’d prepare for a better impression in the future! “That way, we can hang out normally or study together!”
Truth be told, the only studying you’re interested in is with practical magic — as another child with an affinity with magic, you’ve been going to the library often to read up on theories, experimenting with what spells you can do.
As worried as Riddle is for your safety (you’ve been doing all this without supervision), he’s also very curious about watching magic unfold from your own hands. You showed him a color changing spell once, surprising him by appearing with a different appearance — it was cute how he panicked, thinking you went ahead and dyed your entire head pink.
“And nothing hurts? No side effects?” He asked.
“Nope! And one day, we can both attend a magic school and do spells like these all the time!”
One day… Despite how he’s temporarily stuck at home still, adhering to his mother’s strict rules, he clings onto the hope that it’ll fruition in him becoming a great mage. Then, when that happens, he can be the one to wow you with magic you haven’t seen before. Just as you have all these months, visiting with the intention of cheering him up or encouraging him. 
On rare days, you manage to sneak Riddle out of the window for a quick visit to the park or library. There, with his heart thumping out of his chest, he’d marvel at the world you’re so familiar with already, and so willing to place into his unsteady palms.
“Can you read that?” You ask, pointing at a passage in a history book. While technically rebelling, you still chose a book on the same topic Riddle was meant to study at home.
“Yes, it’s…” As Riddle translates the scripture, he realizes you’re listening very intently. And all of a sudden, the closeness of your seats in the corner of the library makes him flush, realizing how you’ve always spoken to him kindly. Different from the playful tones you used at the start of your friendship, or currently do with the acquaintances he’s seen you greet along the way.
It’s been a while since he’s felt special, especially as the sentiment expired after years of his mother claiming he had a gift; that because he had the potential to be perfect, it'd come at a price of overwhelming pressure.
So why does your kind of ‘special’ feel like a balm? 
Jamil Viper
Between his busy schedule working for the Al-Asims, it’s all Jamil can do to relax in the solitude of his own room… that is, until you’re temporarily displaced from your own, and have been allocated to bunk with Jamil since he’s ‘very capable’ and close to your age. Another bed is moved in. There’s still space, but Jamil dislikes having his privacy encroached upon.
The two of you never interacted before this, but he’s seen you around the mansion before doing chores and learning from the head servants. You aren’t too chatty, Jamil thinks, until you finally break it to him after the night of a banquet (the both of you too tired to keep up appearances, slumped on your respective beds), that he frowns a lot. And that’s why you haven’t spoken to him much until now.
Jamil blinks once, then twice. “I do?” He’s always been good at controlling his facial expressions—
“Yeah, when you think people aren’t looking.” You raise a finger in the air. “Especially when the meals aren’t to your liking, you tend to look around with judgmental eyes.”
“So you watch me when we’re at work.”
“Only because you never looked like you wanted to talk.” It’s not accusatory, merely an observation from you. With a sigh, Jamil falls on his back against the mattress. “Did you see the performers at the banquet?”
“The dancers were great. I saw them practicing in the morning before the event.” Jamil answers. It’s the first time you’re having a proper conversation, and while he’s not as chatty as Kalim (who he’s normally assigned to watch), you feel at ease. 
“I remember them! The kitchen was handing out meals to the staff, and I was one of the delivery people.”
“Did you help cook too? There wasn’t enough salt in the curry.”
“You—! Then come and help us yourself!”
“Too much work.” Jamil pushes himself up on his elbows just to stick his tongue out at you, before turning to lay on his side. “We should rest. Tomorrow the guests are leaving, so the suites have to be cleaned.”
Even after you move back to your room, you spend time with Jamil, running off to the market after visiting family, and watching street performers and food vendors go about their day. On rare occasions, you knock on his window when you have a bad dream, and Jamil groggily holds up a conversation until you’ve calmed down. The stars are especially twinkly on those nights, as if they’re another witness to the friendship you shared beneath busy days and tall adults.
“Do you think we’d make good adults, Jamil?”
“Not many adults are good at it either. So we’ll be fine.”
“Well… That’s true. Goodnight, Jamil.”
“...Goodnight. Sleep tight.”
Vil Schoenheit 
When you first met Vil as kids, you were intimidated by him not because he acted in evil roles, but because he had the aura of an adult.
“It’s weird… you look my age, but walk and talk like a grown-up.”
“Hm, I guess that’s not too bad of an impression. …What’s your name?”
You were next-door neighbors, and suffice to say your interests lied more in pop-culture as an audience rather than as an artist on-stage. It’s a world away from Vil who’s a child-actor and upcoming model, but when he’s not pursuing such work, he’s still just a boy.
…A boy who you were very surprised to see act his age, when he was with his father or smiled as he told you about the movies they starred in. You’d always listen, realizing that while Vil was always pretty, he’s even more eye-catching when he’s rambling about something he’s passionate about. It almost makes you want to grow up quickly too and pursue your own dreams.
No one would see this side of him outside the comfort of your homes, though. Vil has an image to uphold (at least, you’re quite sure he’s trying to craft a persona for the camera, considering how he asks you what you think an actor’s personality should be like), so you try and cover for him when strangers ask about Vil. Giving just enough praise without revealing too much, since they might be reporters:
“He’s really hard-working and nice to others! Vil even explains his work to me if I ask. You can tell he really loves acting.”
“Oh? You sound like you admire him a lot.”
“Well… lots of people do. Once you meet him, you’ll realize he’s like a diamond!”
Word of your comments gets to Vil, and he seems to be in a good mood, explaining to you that it sounds like something a fan would say. “...One day, I’ll have as many fans as my dad does.”
It becomes routine for Vil to knock on your door whenever he gets a new script. He likes having you watch him rehearse and give him your thoughts, amongst other things like discussing the story and causing the both of you to become invested in the plot. 
You’re sworn to secrecy, of course, since you can’t leak the movie’s details. And after you’re a bit older, Vil instead makes it a game to read random lines to you, then asking you to make up the rest of the story (it’s a good improv session, even if your conversations devolve into ridiculous scenarios.)
You got each other parting gifts after you were accepted into different colleges; Vil’s to you is a ‘poisoned flower’, which is to say, an artificial flower scented to help you sleep. It’s so you can get proper rest instead of scrolling on your phone, Vil claims. And of course, you’re added into his personal Magicam to get life updates — even now, when asked who you were texting with a smile on your face, you keep Vil’s secret and claim it’s just a childhood friend: 
“He’s in Night Raven College.”
“Oh, the same one Vil Schoenheit is in?”
“The very one! Pretty impressive, huh?”
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bucknastysbabe · 9 months
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✾ Happy Bday To A Sweet Lil Kit Named Liv ✾
Therefore I present to you:
♕ The Brother F**king Incest Spectacular ♕
For u bb @fairysluna
Rating: Explicit
Tags: TW: incest, non/con|||dub/con, degrading language, bastard hating, DAERON IS AGED UP!!!!Greens won AU, Jace’s sister reader, gang bang, so much Incest, cunnilingus, sloppy seconds, double penetration, oral sex, pnv!sex, erotic crying, humiliation, Daeron is actually scared but likes her so they run off and be happy duh, Aemond and Aegon are Insane, multiple orgasms, rough sex, m/m/m/f, Jace is broken, why is there kinda angst? Idk
A/N: I don’t tend to lean toward non-con but the brother fucking incest spectacular had been brewed so read the warnings!
“Little Lord Strong,” Aemond sneered from the lofty bed, looking down with a haughty look on his sharp features. Jace squirmed and hissed at the one-eyed prick. His dear sister was pinned between Aemond’s lean legs, face red and teary.
Daeron was quiet, a terrified look on his face as he watched the scene.
Aegon, ever the deviant, palmed himself through his breeches, other hand petting Jace’s poor sister’s hair. He was grinning wildly, violet eyes fervent with glee. He giggled as his younger brother prattled on. Aemond cocked his head towards his siblings and said, “Well. You know what they say about bastards. Lustful, devious sort. I bet she’ll open up like a Lyseni pillow girl.”
Jace barked, “Fuck you! All of you are the deviants! Defiling my maiden sister for what?”
Aegon snorted, “She’s a lovely vixen, we won and you didn’t. Therefore we get our war prizes. Wanted to see what your cunt of a mother was so infatuated by a house as shite as the Strongs.” Jace grimaced and squirmed under his bindings, chest aching at the mention of his true father. The one who had taught him to be a man. He didn’t feel much like one.
Aegon yanked back her hair and got a good look at doe brown eyes, watery with tears, lips swollen more-so than usual. She pled, “Please, please, I cannot help being o-of this nature. Have mercy my king, have mercy!” The giddiness of Aegon’s face morphed into anger.
He hissed in her face, spittle flying, “Did your lovely mother and the rogue cunt give my children mercy?”
She wailed in sorrow, apologizing for something she had nothing to do with. Aemond was wielding the Valyrian ceremonial knife, pointing it towards Jacaerys. He sniffed, “Yes, Lord Strong, was there mercy when your dead brother took my eye, slaughtered my kin, set the kingdom aflame for a seat that belonged to us trueborn?”
Jacaerys remained silent, fidgeting in his bonds, trying to find a way out. There was murder and kinslaying on both sides. The bastard thought he was justified for little Luke. Jace was angry and humiliated. Tears fell down his darkened cheeks. Daeron spoke up, a soft lilt to the youngest brother’s tone.
“You won’t get out of those. Learned the best knots down on the docks of Oldtown. Best if you just sat back and let it get on with. Customary,” he nervously looked to the elder blondes, “Customary right?”
Aegon popped up from his spewing of vitriol, laughing as he reached for more Arbor Red, “Yes, darling Daeron, customary to make sure any dragon blood gets more seed. We have to repopulate. Sorry you must get the leftover bitch as wife.”
Aemond shrugged, “She’s pretty. Had a Strong bitch in Harrenhal, witchy sort, but couldn’t trust a wench that played with magicks.” He began to take off his loose blouse, exposing pale scarred skin, lean and toned. Daeron was stockier, like Aegon but if the eldest didn’t overindulge. The king was a juxtaposition of tight burns and soft overfed flesh. Never a warrior, Jace knew that much.
Jace watched in agony as the boys divested their clothing. He sister wept and shook on the mattress, begging Daeron now. The youngest looked guilty, mouthing, “I’m sorry.” Aegon smacked the Prince from behind the head and chided, “This is your whore for tonight. Quit being the pansy.”
Daeron grumbled back, staring with flushed cheeks. Aemond pulled her ass up roughly, spreading tanned thighs, shapely from dragon riding. Jacaerys howled, “You accursed demon!” The one-eye hummed, “I’ve heard worse, Strong. Enjoy the show.”
Aegon was at full mast, eagerly stroking his thick cock, “As the king I get to fuck those pretty lips,” he smirked, “Aemond you can get her cunt. Daeron it’s either her ass or wait your turn. Feel her up a little, I don’t know.” Daeron’s lilac eyes bounced around the scene, pupils blowing at her gorgeous body, full breasts hanging below, obscene lips covered in drool.
“Go on Daeron, she’s drier than the Boneway,” Aemond frowned. Jace could hand the bastard that, he couldn’t bear to watch her be torn to shreds. Daeron’s body came closer to hers, a calloused hand tentatively rubbing her soft skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She relaxed a smidgeon, nervous eyes peeking around. The brunette had pretty lashes.
The daring himself murmured, “I shan’t treat you like this my lady, we’ll go back to Old Town. J-just feel me and the sensations. Please. Please.”
She whimpered quietly at Daeron engaged her in a gentle kiss, his hand finally coming to knead and tweak her pretty tits. “This isn’t amateur hour, back off, acting like Florian and Jonquil.” Aeg snatched her jaw and ordered, “Open, bastard whore.” She did so, shaking as Aegon dropped his spit into her mouth, easing his thick cockhead into the warm opening.
“That’s better, fuck,” Aegon moaned, eyes lolled. Aemond waited patiently, while he grinned at Jace. He mused, “So easy, so pliable. That’s why your mother liked it. Wanted to control everything, the bitch.” Jace gritted back, “Your mother was a stone cold bitch and we all knew it!”
The Velaryon fumed with anger, eyes flickering to where Aegon was moaning with delight, Daeron caressing and kissing on her smooth skin. His cheeks reddened at where his thoughts were going. Merely a Targaryen instinct— inclination for the blood.
Daeron’s insistent kissing and licking had the princess biting off whines around Aegon’s cock. The king laughed, “Ah, there she is, little slut loves it after all.” Aemond played with her other entrance, feeling wetness begin to gather and dribble delightfully. He backed up and motioned towards the youngest.
“Actually, I want her wetter. Use your tongue Daeron.” Aegon giggled with glee at the idea, Jace groaned, and Daeron swallowed heavily.
He shuffled to her slit, pale eyes boggled at her most private part. His thumb slid through the moistened entrance, cock jumping in surprise. Daeron held up his thumb and suckled the essence off, eyelashes fluttering as he moaned.
“She taste s-sweet, hm?,” Aegon panted. He wouldn’t last long. Never did by all rumors and accounts. The slick noises of her mouth and Aegon’s lurid chattering was making Daeron grow impossibly hot under his skin. He grabbed handfuls of her pert ass and licked at her pretty petals, grinding into the bed.
“Seven hells— the mouth on this one!,” he giggled, “Lick at that bud Daeron, raa-right at the top, make her squeal and slick up.” The youngest did so, suckling on the hooded bud above her opening, inhaling her perfect natural scent. She squirmed and shook, crying out around Aegon. Daeron didn’t stop, intoxicated by his beautiful niece’s noises. She arched her back helplessly, whining.
Aegon gasped and pulled at her thick brown locks, shoving his cock deep into her throat— met with no resistance. He threw his short curls back, belly bouncing, lips agape. The king cried out, “Fuuuuck yess!” Jace saw his uncle’s balls draw tight and he emptied down her once pristine throat. He closed his eyes and whimpered, willing away the indecent thoughts. He could hear her coughing in the background.
Aegon, fuck dumb and lazy, pillowed himself back. He halfassedly gestured for Aemond to have her mouth. The lean man smirked as having her from this angle meant he could torture Jacaerys more. Daeron was busy exploring her, sticking fingers in and lapping excitedly.
“Slow down, you’ll blow before you get your cock in her cunny,” Aegon snorted.
Aemond easily got access, the Princess obediently opening her mouth, eyes far away and hazy. Cum was still wetting her chin, mixed with drool. Aemond wiped it away with the nearest cloth, finding a distaste to be so close to Aegon’s glob of spend. He tilted her head up so the taller Targaryen could ease his long cock down her throat.
“Stick your dick in already, she’s wetter than the Greenblood,” Aegon snapped, greedily gulping wine. He shouted, “Isn’t this just wonderful Jace! Maybe we’ll cut your cock off and make you a handmaiden to this lovely girl.” Jace whimpered, utterly broken and confused. He was so hard it hurt, yet everything disgusted him.
Daeron held his cock, lilac eyes focused on her hole, dipping the tip in, before getting shoved further by one of her frantic hands. Aemond laughed, “Mm! She likes you. We’ll all have to take a test filling her cunt up. Make sure the seed takes.”
The youngest brother’s vision grew blurry as he registered the delicious feeling surrounding his cock. It was better than anything he had tried on himself. She was warm, tight, and pulsing around Daeron’s member. He gripped her hips and fucked wildly, groaning and panting her name.
“Should have taken his virgin ass to the brothels in Old Town when we visited.”
“All the more fun, two little virgins, isn’t that right Lord Strong?,” Aemond jabbed in glee. Jace let out an agonized moan, his balls aching and full. His sister’s gorgeous cries and debauched frame was making him feel insane. Aegon’s nonsensical laugh broke through the haze, making Jace more ashamed…more aroused.
Daeron panted and laid kisses up her back, breathlessly praising, “Oh you feel so good, tell me what to do, please?” Aemond, snapping his hips into the Velaryon’s mouth jeered, “Listen to what the wretch had to say, touch her button.”
Aegon slurred, already stroking his cock again, “When she comes, s’like heaven, milking ya’ cock.”
Daeron reached around to settle between them, circling around her swollen nub, feeling her cunt pulse and hearing excited keening. He pinched and pulled harder, the cries turning into little whimpers as she drew tighter and tighter around him. Daeron felt his eyes crossing at the pressure, fucking harder in a last effort.
Aemond pinched a bouncing teat of hers and ordered, “Come now, Strong slut. Serve your superiors.” He pulled out and watched the scene, on his haunches. The brunette was wailing and crying Daeron’s name. “Oh Gods please, don’t stop, f-fa-feels s’good! What’s- oh my- happening?”
Jace never wished he could be freed more than now, eyes glued to her twitching body, plump lips shining in the dull light. His cock was leaking profusely, needing an outlet for his swollen sac. Daeron gasped as she gushed all over his cock, sniveling and sucking in breath. Tears leaked down her gorgeous face.
The youngest Targaryen just sat in a daze, her throbbing pussy hitting him with wave of wave of ecstasy, his cock unloading all he could have carried into her womb. He selfishly hoped his seed would take, so that his wife’s child was truly his. He kissed and rubbed on her until Aegon cast him aside, laughing, “My turn, lover boy.”
Daeron’s eyes flickered to Jace, whining softly with a red face. His cock had soaked the front of his small clothes, huge member swollen and needy. Gods, the depravity. He absently wondered if the girl was supposed to be Jace’s if it weren’t for the twins.
Aegon was a lazy fuck, making the girl get on top of him and ride and ride until her shaky legs gave out. The king smacked her ass roughly, barking, “You can do better than that with all that dragon riding. Lazy whore.” She whimpered and bounced harder, squeezing Aegon’s soft midsection tight. He moaned, “Soooo much better. Good little bitch.”
He filled her up next with a sloppy finish, leaving some on her belly and legs, proposing, “Since Jace is so needy, we should make him clean her up.” Aemond seemed to love that idea, eagerly fucking her into the soft bed, her legs thrown high up his long body.
He bit and sucked a collar of markings around her neck, snarling, “You belong to us now, no black, no-ngh, fucking greens, just the Targaryens.” She whimpered, “Yes, yes, I belong to you, the rightful family.” Aemond smacked her around some more, around the ass and thighs. He pumped with long strokes, powerful and measured.
Daeron was taking notes. Because she was heaving and clawing his shoulders, mewling when he’d plunge into her ruined cunt. Blood had already dried on the bed. Aegon crawled over and pointed her wet eyes to Jace.
“You want brother dearest to clean you up after? Lick your sore cunny up, coddle you? Or Daeron?”
She scrunched her face up, obviously distressed. Jace whined pathetically, “Sister, sister please, let me, let me?” He was humping the air now, utterly broken and debauched. Aemond smacked her cheek none-to-hard and smarted, “Your king asked you a question!”
She wailed out, “Both! Need both! Gods please! Mmmm!” Aemond’s one eye rolled up at her releasing yet again. She still had some in her, coating his long cock with the gorgeous essence. The long haired prince pumped her for the final time full of his cum, slapping her ass another time for good measure. She shivered and cried, Daeron already to the rescue.
Who knew such a powerful fighter had such a weak heart. Aegon laid back like a cat who got the cream, watching Jacaerys sob and shiver. He’d cum. The evidence was sticky and soaking his small clothes. The princess took one look and begged, “C-can he join? Lick me up like you said my liege?”
Aegon shrugged, “Aemond and I will watch for safety. Can’t believe Lord Strong came in his small clothes watching his sister get fucked by the enemies. I thought we were fucked up.”
“Like you’ll do shite you oaf,” Aemond muttered as he slit the ropes binding Jace. The brunette stumbled to his sister, squatting between her soaked cunt. It was still a bit stretched, puffy and oozing copious amounts of ‘dragonseed’. He began to cry in shame as he cleaned her up.
Daeron softly murmured, “I’ll take good care of her, you’ve been good. So good.” Jace blushed and kept licking, eating up his sister’s sighs of pleasure, Daeron’s long fingers in his dark hair. What a fucking mess this was.
Aegon and Aemond merely laughed like devilish imps. Sadists. “Oh she’ll take the seed alright, she better or we do this again,” he tapped his chin, “We can’t taint her bastardized blood further, so just licking cunny for you dear nephew.”
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What The Dragon Prince taught me is that if your dad gets assassinated, the best thing to do is to eventually form a romantic relationship with one of the assassins. Because if I'm gonna be put through that, I at least wanna get a girlfriend out of it.
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general-mahamatra · 2 years
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ayo dude love finding out about someone shitty to one of my best friends is still rampant in circles near me . maybeeee get a therapist pls lol
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simpingland · 10 months
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'Alone' together// Lucerys Velaryon x fem!reader.
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Y/N Celtigar and Luke have been betrothed for years, but the reader is having a hard time finding true friendship on Dragonstone. Some tutoring makes Luke change his mind about his wife to be.
♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧
No one could stand Jace when he was ahead in any of the classes you all shared with the Master. That's why you took every lesson so seriously, just so you could take him down a peg or two. And it could be fun most of the time, but in the long run, you and Jace never quite clicked, causing Rhaena and Luke to stay somewhat aloof from you, preferring the favour of the prince to the favour of a pupil like you.
When everyone heard the news about Lady Celtigar's death, you were only eight. Rhaenyra saw in you a child who longed for her mother as she had longed for her own, and made a pact with your father to take you into her care. He agreed, proposing a marriage in return. It was a good idea, Valyrian blood with Valyrian blood, extending and strengthening houses that moved across the Seven Kingdoms. Unfortunately, though you were the same age as Jace, Baela was also a close child and the idea of her being queen in the future protected Rhaenyra and Jace's reign...so you were promised to Luke.
It could have been worse, they could have promised you Joffrey...or worse...Jace! At least Lucerys, as you found out a few days later, turned out to be a good boy, if a little too childish for your taste. Growing up in Dragonstone had been quicker than anyone expected, but no less hard. The siblings were very close to each other, and they were also very close to their dragons. Rhaena was sweet and pleasant, but there was something about her company that made you feel as if she was there out of obligation. You never had the feeling that you belonged there.
Arguments between the four of you were very common, never worrisome as they were usually the typical ones caused by going on adventures together, by stealing things from each other... although if someone came out crying, it was usually you. You were a studious young woman, always alert and if Rhaenyra found out about all the shenanigans of the group, it was because you told her. They never listened when you justified yourself by saying that lying was not an option for you. At dinners together you were usually the one who was left out of the conversation, even if they were talking about you. If you were lucky and Luke got mad at Jace too, you had the young man sitting next to you as he prattled on about Arrax and how much he hated Jace that day. He never failed to make you laugh. Sadly, that didn't always happen, and it was more common for him to give you the same dirty looks as the rest when you didn't play along.
Rhaenyra already knew about this problem, and she tried to educate you on how being friends with your husband was always the best way to be married. The problem was that you didn't really know how to make friends...because no one understood how you loved them, everything you said or did ended up being used against you. And no matter how much you made up your mind that you shouldn't do anything, you couldn't help but stay at the table with Luke after he failed his geography lesson with the Maester. Jace had already left for his dragon with a victorious smile, and Rhaena accompanied him, the Maester would show her how to feed her little Morning.
Luke was more embarrassed than sad, you could see it in the way he looked down at you as you paced the table with the map.
"Don't you have one of your sewing classes or one of those lame things you like to do?" he asked.
"I don't like boring things...I just like to be quiet. It's different. And no, I can stay and help you."
"No need, thanks..." he tried to concentrate on the map.
"You should learn some trick to memorize the map...a song, a rhyme..."
"That's just stupid." He interrupted you and you instantly stopped wanting to help him. Something must have crossed your eyes because Luke felt bad right away. "Sorry...it's just...Jace will laugh at me if he sees me burst into song if someone asks me to point out the Isles of Tarth."
This made you laugh, and Luke smiled at your reaction. It wasn't very casual to see you laugh genuinely, it was always usually out of politeness or only brought on by the Maester, Rhaenyra, or some guard. Although, if he thought about it, Luke had seen you laugh at times when he had focused more on you than on the dinners.
"It's just a trick, you end up memorising it eventually. Besides, by the time you're Lord of Driftmark you'll have travelled more. It will be easier."
"How do you memorise it?"
"Oh..." you didn't expect that question. Perhaps because the answer was so personal. "I think about my family. Where my grandmothers were born...where my uncle died...where my grandfather won a battle...where my mother was a ward when she was my age..."
It seemed like a sad thing, but it wasn't really sad for you. The maps served you like a history book. You'd always had a head for remembering stories, and it was all because you felt too trapped there, too lonely. You enjoyed visits to the castle, something the others hated, for even the dullest Lord had an anecdote about someone in your family. However, if the Targaryen children wanted to know something about their family, all they had to do was open any history book.
"It's very nice, really, though I think I'd go mad if I used your method." Luke tried to lighten up a bit the turn the conversation seemed about to take.
"Right, I think the simplest thing to do is for us to decorate our own map." You suggested.
"I don't have enough inks to make a nice map."
"I do!"
Luke had to follow you at a quickened pace, even though he was even slightly taller than you, your enthusiasm to show him your full artistic arsenal outweighed physics. You let him into your rooms, where he hadn't been for many years, and he was surprised to see that it was more cluttered than he expected. There were piles of books in every nook and cranny, many open and with notes on their sides. You also had a small desk in front of your balcony. When he looked out, he noticed that you overlooked the beach. It made him tender to know that he could watch you study while he trained with Jace.
The afternoon flew by as Luke decorated a map with colours assigned to houses, animals and creatures. He made trees and mountains, and you taught him to draw castles for important towns. On a thinner piece of paper, you wrote the names of all those places and Luke tried to name the points you pointed out and then you checked it by putting the paper over it. And it didn't take him long to match what he said with what it really was. He was so happy that he even gave you a hug.
From that day on, geography lessons were much more fun for Luke, as he spent more time drawing than memorising, and he showed you all the things he was doing. Jace's concentration would be thrown off by your whispering and giggling. Sometimes you would show him the annotations and drawings you had on your map, and you would have fun imagining an tracing a dragon ride.
He started helping you in Valyrian, Luke's favourite subject. And at dinners he always sat next to you, apart from Rhaena and Jace. Luke always did the talking, for he always had more to tell than you, who spent the whole day engaged in something completely alternative to what the others were doing. Day by day, he would let you feel open enough to give him your opinion on the books you were reading or telling him some childhood stories.
One of the days when Jace and Luke were training, Luke remembered that afternoon, and your little desk overlooking the beach. He stopped to look for you with his eyes, and it took him a while to find your figure, but he did. He couldn't see you clearly, but he could make out that you were leaning on your balcony, concentrating on something, with a pen in your hand.
"It would be good if you were concentrating on something, Lucerys," the older scolded him.
"Sorry, you're right...I'm really getting better though." Luke smiled mischievously at her.
"Only in geography, I'm not going to applaud your need to draw trees in the woods." Jace landed a lazy first punch, pulling Luke's gaze away from yours.
"Hey! Easy!" Luke tried to hit him back, but clearly Jace was better than him.
"Oops, sorry...I didn't remember how much of a pussy you've become since you and Y/N are the best of friends."
It was silly, but the fight that was supposed to be a rehearsal turned into something all too real, and Jace and Luke were soon fighting without swords, using shoves and fists. From a blow that Jace threw disproportionately, Luke felt part of his lower lip split. At the sight of blood, both stopped instantly.
Of course they were brought before Rhaenyra by the guard who at the time was unable to stop them. And you, who could hear all the commotion, went down to check what was going on. Both were dishevelled but only Luke was bleeding.
"I want an explanation, right now!" Rhaenyra looked furious.
"Luke is being unbearable, mother." Jace gave her a terrible look.
"It's you who can't stand to be outdone. You're always the most important." Luke accepted the water-soaked handkerchief you gave him. He let out a small whimper as he felt the sting.
"Maybe it's because I'm the heir to the throne, my education is vital. And you only know how to giggle and be a shitty student."
You couldn't take it anymore, he always used that excuse, that he had to be the best to be a good king. Luke had already confessed to you over dinner that the love and admiration he had for Jace causes him a lot of anxiety, because he felt unfit to rule something as important as Driftmark.
"That doesn't give you any right to hit him..." everyone turned to look at you, and Jace was relieved to find himself back in the same situation where you were making a fool of yourself.
"You weren't there to see it, it would be nice if you stayed out of this for once."
"I didn't do anything wrong, don't talk to me like that." You were getting that high-pitched, agitated voice again that you get when you're feeling overly nervous. Luke could see it, his hand rested on your arm gently.
"It's your fault Luke's an twat now. All you know how to do is be a pain in the ass to everyone, and now you're filling my brother's head with your bullshit."
"What's wrong with you is that you're unbearable and jealous because Baela isn't here to tell you how well you're doing everything."
"And what's wrong with you is that you're such a pain in the ass that your father put you on the first boat that offered to take you off his sight."
"Jace!" Rhaenyra snapped at him. "I command you to stop talking like that. I remember teaching you some manners, didn't I?. Apologize. Right now."
Jace gave a sigh. And with a forced smile, he focused on them both.
"Luke, I'm really sorry I hurt you, maybe I went too far, considering you're also going to spend the rest of your life next to this absolute bore and insufferable woman. It's a big sacrifice on your part."
Jace gave Luke a friendly slap on his shoulder and turned away, forgiving himself. You, on the other hand, had already started to feel the tears forming at the thought of disappearing from your father's sight. It was too delicate of a subject, and you longed for him, Jace had struck another blow too hard.
"Apologize to Y/N, Jace." Luke's voice sounded serious, demanding. Jace turned away.
"By what right are you commanding me around now?"
"I'm your brother, and Y/N will be my wife, your sister-in-law, and we'll all be a family. Show her the respect she deserves, and ask for her forgiveness."
Jace was quiet for a second. Luke's hand moved to reach for your hand and squeezed it, it was cold, but at his touch, it began to warm.
"I'm sorry, Y/N." It was dry, and it was surely not for you, but for Luke. It was still humiliating, and of course, it was you who left that room crying.
You tried to hide your tears from Luke, who was asking you not to leave, but you couldn't even come up with an excuse, you just disappeared from there.
When you didn't show up for dinner, Luke couldn't eat a single bite. Rhaenyra watched as your empty seat provoked something in him that hadn't happened before, he became quiet. Jaxe was also quiet, stressed and recovering from the scold he received from his mother after all that scene. With a nod of his head, Luke had permission to get up and look for you. Your door was open, but inside your room you were hard to find. On the floor, your back against your bed, a candle illuminated one of your maps. You tried to wipe your face a little as Luke sat down next to you.
"You're missing your favourite dessert..." he tried to get a smile out of you, he couldn't. "I'm sure Jace regrets what he said, he didn't say a single word at dinner."
"He regrets a lot of things I'm sure, but never that he spoke ill of me." You told him without so much as a glance at him.
"That's not true. There may be friction, but we're all family."
"Yeah, but I'm not in it. All I try to do is to be fair, to do the right thing. Your mother is a future queen to me, I must always tell her the truth. And none of the three of you seem to understand the great danger you are in every day..."
"I do understand that you do it for us, but soon she will be like a mother to you too." Luke held your hand.
"I miss my family so much...All I really have from them is just memories I didn't even get to live, few years with my mother... I try to love in the present but then I'm faced with this ignorace against my person.Lucerys, every day I feel this sorrow, this silence...I feel so, so lonely."
Then he understood your great passion for maps. And he suddenly felt like a tremendous idiot. I could have been there for you much earlier. But he was convinced that it was a good time to start.
"I've had dreams too...well, they were really nightmares...about being heir to Driftmark and spending my whole life alone. Jace would be here, Mother at King's Landing, Rhaena married, and everyone else would be dead...and you would be left, as always, locked in your rooms, not wanting to talk to anyone."
At last you looked at him, he too had a sad expression. His lip was split at the bottom. His eyes connected with yours.
"I'm sorry you had that impression of me...you...I actually, genuinely like you. A lot."
You watched as Luke smiled mischievously, like his mother did.
"It'll be the only thing I beat Jace at..." he finally got a laugh out of you. "Maybe, we could feel 'alone' together."
"Sounds like a good idea..."
"And we can go to sleep together, but alone." He continued to joke.
"And have lonely blonde and brunette children..." you continued.
"And sail the ocean alone..."
And in unison you both said "but together!"
At the coincidence, you burst out laughing. And more you laughed when Luke got a stitch of pain in his lip from smiling. His little scream was too funny.
"Hey...don't be mean!" he scolded you with a totally fake frown.
"Oh, my prince, I'm sorry! That wound looks bad..."
"Well, the Maester says nothing that can't be fixed with a kiss on the wound in question."
"Haha! Now I really feel sorry for you if you need a kiss from the Maester..."
"I'm afraid you're out of luck, the sages say only kisses from beautiful, blonde women, lousy with Valyrian but great readers with a strangely amusing laugh."
In that light, Luke had made you happier than you had ever imagined. He might still be a little more childish than you'd like, but it was this that made you laugh during dinners and lessons. This dedication to your could be the beginning of a fun and pleasant future, much closer than your inner child had imagined when you read those love stories in your books.
It was you who reached first, and Luke was the first to close his eyes. A tender kiss on the lips, first on his bottom lip, soft and slow, trying not to hurt him. But above was his upper lip, intact, and there you gave him another kiss, more intense, but just as sweet. And Luke pressed his lips together as hard as he could, letting himself be carried away by your soft lips brushing his. When you broke apart, he saw you blush a little, but you immediately laughed at him, who was much more flushed than you were.
"Actually...if I'm going to be your wife, you didn't have to memorise all those places. I would know them for you." You told him as you walked on your way to the kitchen, ready to dine alone with the leftovers from dinner.
"Right..." Luke led the way, holding your hand. "Although then you would never have realised how much you really like me."
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ventique18 · 10 months
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Edit: this post was made months before Diasomnia release.
- Delusional OC sketches and headcanons: Malleus' mama and papa -
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*seduce, not saduce lmao sorry I'm tired
Malleus Draconia never met his parents, but Lilia could vividly remember them as if he only last saw them yesterday. Malleus' father (whose name also happened to be Malleus) was a student of his and had a consistent air of superiority about him-- he walked and talked with such confidence befitting that of the majestic horns that adorned his head like a crown. In dragon anatomy, you see, large, beautifully sculpted horns are a clear indicator of how fertile and desirable its genes were. So there was never a doubt that this man was a natural attractor for many a woman.
... Except nobody ever stuck with him. The prince had a terrible personality. He went on and on, on and on with prattling about anything and everything under the sun (actually mostly about weapons and griffons and philosophy and geography) to the point that ladies thought he was self-centered and was looking for a mirror to marry, rather than a wife. That was not true however. He was simply an excitable boy.
He had reached a record age of three centuries (still wifeless) when he decided that being stuck in Briar Valley was limiting his viewpoint of the world. He had enrolled at an academia overseas, and that was when he met his future bride: Matilda. Upon meeting eyes with her, he had known that it was love at first sight. (It was not. He merely thought having another dragon fae as queen would benefit his country.) And so, relentlessly, day in and day out, he pursued her in order to win her affection.
The lady simply treated him like furniture, however.
Still, everyday he would sit at her table in the library. He would first attempt to flirt with her, but as he noticed how focused she was in drafting her blueprints, he would give up and eventually become engrossed in whatever he was studying. He would scribble down notes and make commentaries to himself about this and that, and to be honest... She found that quite endearing. He had a frivolous mouth, but he was earnest in his pursuit of developing his country.
She had been secretly watching him, and one fateful day, she accidentally let out a giggle. A secretive acknowledgment of his presence. And of course, sharp as his draconic ears were, he returned her gaze and happened upon her beautiful smile.
That was when he realized that the words he sang to her-- the "you're lovely as blooming flowers in the spring", "your voice is as melodious as a crystal bell in winter"-- were all very, very true. The next words he had uttered were finally taken straight from his heart, and then for the very first time since they met, she had replied to him with lips upturned in an elegant crescent.
The following year, when he returned to Briar Valley for the holidays, his mother Maleficia almost squealed in pleasant surprise that her son had brought home a lovely bride. It was a blur after that. Lilia could recall how the castle seemed to have turned upside down with how lively it had suddenly gotten; secretive dates, a wedding, a coronation, pregnancy woes, and... a sudden despair.
The couple had created life, but paid for it with their lives.
Whenever Lilia was recalling this story to the toddler he was tucking under the covers, he would come to a sudden halt. Little Malleus would ask why, but he would just shake his head and ruffle the boy's hair.
"I was just thinking how great a king and queen your father and mother had been. They were strong, and brave, and kind..."
"Will I grow great like them, too?"
Lilia paused and gazed into the boy's eyes. Then, with a smile, he stroked his tuft of hair and patted him to sleep.
"Of course, dear. Now sleep. A future king needs to be strong and healthy to be great. You won't grow up without sleep!"
They were gone too early. Far too early; they never even saw what their child looked like beneath the shells.
For now, he would burn every moment of this boy's tiny smiles in his memory, so that he could recall in detail every moment of this child's beautiful life when he finally reunites with his old friends.
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rush-the-stars · 2 months
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new tricks
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pairing: yandere abyss prince kaeya x gender neutral reader
cw: dark content, kidnapping/capture, the reader is treated physically well but is still captured/being held against their will, mentions of a punishment, strange and toxic dynamic, mildly suggestive.
wc: 2.1k
a/n: dividers by @/cafekitsune!
this is just a tiny drabble. don't squint at worldbuilding or plot lol. i had this idea prattling around my head and wanted it out. one day i will write the dark long fic of my dreams but today is not the day. thank you to @/lorelune for taking a peek beforehand and assuring me <33
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on the back of your neck, goosebumps ripple to life. a chill races down your spine. you know it well—as intimately as you know the brag of your own heart.
sensing him, you cast your eyes up in the reflection of your mirror to catch the shape of him behind you.
you didn’t even hear him enter your chambers. but you’d felt him somehow, known his presence. maybe known his gaze on you.
(it burns deep and vicious to know his gaze. to become accustomed and attuned to him.)
prince kaeya smiles knowingly.
the dark glint to his eye lets you know he’s in strange ways.
“you’re getting quite perceptive.” he muses. “if only you’d been so sharp when i first took you, maybe you wouldn’t be here.”
you were just a naive artist from mondstadt then. a child who knew the sound of the wind in the trees and the birdsong that rose into the sky early in the morning. you knew the golden hills and the valley and a sort of freedom that made you sing like those birds in the morning, too.
(in the dark, he asks you to sing. sing like you used to, he says. and when you open your mouth, you’re always terrified of what will come out.)
now you sit tucked away in the gilded cage he’s made for you in a land far from your home skies. in a castle where the eyes of gods cannot reach you.
“you’re lucky i wasn’t.” you reply sharply, trying to keep your bite around him.
it grows harder and harder to.
every day the edge you’ve tried so desperately to keep begins to whittle away. it’s hard to always be angry. it’s miserable to always be vicious.
(and he’s never harmed you. not physically—just in stranger, worse ways. emotionally. mentally. you wish he’d just break a bone or make a scar, so that when it heals, you know you’re okay again.
it’s worse that he spoils you. it’s worse that he cherishes you. it’s its own form of torment. he knows it.)
he smiles lazily, on the edges are amusement. fondness. he is endlessly entertained by your contempt.
he approaches where you sit in front of your ornate vanity. it’s too beautiful. it’s too grand.
he’s a dark shadow of blue behind you in the mirror. you watch his reflection carefully. he watches you back as he approaches.
something thrills inside you, wild and dark and sudden.
he reaches out, touches your cheek.
you watch his knuckle brush against your face in the mirror.
he’s testing you.
the last time you bit him.
the moment you turn your face towards his hand, it slips away, dancing out of your reach.
he smiles again knowingly.
it’s insufferable.
sensing your ire, he says, “let’s play our game.”
you breathe hard through your nose.
you turn to face him so you’re not caught in his endless reflection. you glare up at him with all the vitriol you can muster.
(it isn’t much anymore.)
“don’t you have more important things to do?”
“nothing so important as you, darling.”
your teeth grind together. but you get out;
“i’d try to escape from the balcony.”
he tsks.
“the guards would spot you.”
“i’d poison the guards.”
he laughs outright at this, “with what poison?”
you feel heat in your face, but you press on, “the hemlock i’ve been growing in the garden.”
he pauses at that. tilts his head.
“my, you’ve gotten good. i can’t tell if you’re lying.”
“go and check.” you dare.
“maybe later.” he agrees, “say i destroyed it. i froze it.”
“you’re not playing fair.” you accuse.
he laughs warmly, reaching out again to tousle your hair. you swat and push at him, but it only excites him, it only makes his hands catch your wrists and come down to your level. kneeling beside you. he holds your wrists tight, presses them down into your own lap. in another world, he could be a lover on his knees for you, his hands clasped over yours.
he fits himself between your legs. he presses himself too close.
but it isn’t another world. and his eye is like the endless night sky in this one. so dark, so terrifying.
“fine,” he agrees pleasantly, “the guards are poisoned. you slip out from the balcony. i’m a light sleeper—i hear you jump to the ground.”
“i try to run.” you breathe.
“where would you run?” he asks, nose nudging yours. you can feel the sharp cut of his foxish smile.
“past the fountain.”
“come now, you’re cleverer than that. i’d find you and drag you back.”
“i’d kick and scream. i’d make you bleed.”
“you’ve done that all before, it doesn’t stop me anymore.”
your nails bite into his shoulders as he lifts you from your place in front of the vanity. you hang around his neck like a child. instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist.
you tuck your face into his shoulder so you don’t see the pleased look in his eye.
you know where he’ll take you.
“you need new tricks.” he hums as he sits on the edge of the bed with you in his lap.
“maybe i already have them—if it’s a good trick, you wouldn’t know.” you mumble into his shoulder. you hide there.
his hand creeps up to the back of your neck. goosebumps prickle. his fingers slip into your hair and then curl into a loose fist. he tugs gently to dislodge you from his shoulder, to pull you away so that he may see your face again.
he looks at you as if he’s trying to find the trick you speak of. perhaps it’s in your eyes or the set of your mouth.
“i always know.” he warns.
“let’s play again.” you say.
and this time, you use your weight to push him down onto the bed.
he goes down willingly, too easily.
you capture his wrists the way he did to you earlier. you pin them by his head. languidly, he stretches beneath you, amused with this show of sudden power or interest.
“okay, you begin.” he says and his smile is the curve of a laughing, crescent moon.
“i grow to trust you.”
he tilts his head, uncertain or intrigued, you can’t tell. but you can tell you’ve surprised him. his smile falters.
“i’m pleased—you know it’s all i want.” he says and though it’s softened, it’s guarded. you can feel the way he tenses beneath you, waiting, searching.
“and i grow to—to want you, too.” you say and your voice sounds strange to your own ears. far off. maybe too near. not your own, or else, horrifyingly, only yours.
perhaps there is truth there in a way you cannot even begin to untangle.
he’s silent. watching.
“what do you do?” you prompt, breath hitching, almost beg him to speak. “play the game. it’s your turn.”
you feel his wrists flex, the tendons and muscles moving, encircled in your fingers.
“i—cherish you. i foster your desires. i give you whatever you want.” his voice is bedroom soft. his lashes flutter.
“freedom?”
he releases a slow breath of frustration. you feel it against your cheek.
“a form of it.” he answers. and then, carefully, you feel the shifting of his hand beneath yours. his thumb sweeps over your wrist, into your palm. “more and more as i grow to trust you, too.”
you let your hand open up to his, feel it bloom to the touch.
“being alone in the garden.” you press, “i ask you one day to tend to it by myself, when i please.”
he laces his fingers with yours.
“in time.” he agrees, “and you can tend to your garden alone. you can walk on the grounds, wherever you please. you can take dinner in the atrium or the greenhouse or by the lake. it could all be yours.”
you squeeze his hand, “say i earn your trust—let’s finish the game.”
“i give you the world.” he breathes it and you feel it against your lips, feel it somewhere deep inside of you. on the other, soft side of your chest, where your heart thrums.
you know he is telling the truth.
but it rings discordant inside of you. just as softly, you murmur;
“and then i disappear with it. you wait for me to come in from the garden one day—and i never do.”
the tender hold of your hand turns vicious, biting.
you bare your teeth and hiss, “i steal your world and your trust and the love you gave me and i run and run and run. until you can’t find me—until you can’t catch me. i do it when you least expect it—when i love you too much.”
he pushes and twists you under him. he presses you down hard like he could keep you from disappearing, like you’re slipping from him already. but you press on;
“and you’ll see my face everywhere—in the windows of the atrium and the corners of the greenhouse. in the hemlock i grew in the garden and the wind that howls while you stand on the balcony. but i’ll be gone—“
“you’ll never earn my trust now.” he warns, “and you’ll never know the garden alone, or the world i could give you.”
“but i’ll know the one you took from me.”
his eye flashes dangerously, the flicker of frigid, dark waters beneath ice.
but then he’s gone. off of you. the warmth of him leaves you in a rush.
he grabs for a coat of his, throwing it over his shoulders in a flare of dark fabric.
“where are you going? i thought you wanted to play.” you sneer.
“and i thought you didn’t?” he heads for the door anyways, “i’m going to the garden. alone.”
“scared you’ll find hemlock?” you ask.
“are you scared i’ll find hemlock?” he retorts and then lowers his voice, almost to a caress, “i would punish you.”
“you’ve done that all before, it doesn’t stop me anymore.” you tilt your head, “maybe you need new tricks.”
the door slams behind him. you don’t even flinch.
and in a moment, you watch his figure, a dark smudge against the gray fog, trudge out towards the garden.
you watch from the balcony.
there is no hemlock in the garden.
and he is gentler again when he returns that night. but he locks the door to the balcony and he keeps the key tethered around his neck, pressed to you as he holds you; so close and yet so far.
you can feel it’s cool metal against your bare back. you can feel his skin to yours, the way he holds you like you’re going to slip away.
there is no hemlock in the garden, but there is nightshade.
“let’s play our game.” he whispers that night, pressing scattered kisses like falling stars along your shoulder, your jaw.
“i steal the key around your throat. i unlock the balcony door—“
“i hear you. i let you go, anyways.”
you go perfectly still.
“i—i climb down the balcony and i run—“
“past the fountain?”
you nod slowly. you feel your heart kick into an unsteady rhythm.
“i let you go. i let you get far.”
“you’d let me—“
your throat constricts; a ball of emotion wedged there suddenly. you feel your eyes prick with—with shock. is he really—?
something terrified stirs inside you at even the thought of your real freedom; of the thing you want most.
“and then i hunt you.”
he kisses beneath your ear, like a lover.
your blood goes cold.
“i chase you across the world i gave you and the one i took from you. and every time, i find you. i’d find you. and i’d drag you back.”
“i’d—i’d kick and scream. i’d make you bleed.” you manage to get out.
he props himself up, if only to catch your chin, to force you to look back at him.
he kisses you. slowly. sweetly.
“there’s no hemlock in the garden. you need new tricks.”
but the nightshade opens its flowers to the moon, just outside the locked door of your balcony, in the garden that you can’t tend to alone.
you melt into the kiss, open mouthed and tender. soft and deep like lovers.
when you pull away, you have the key dangling in your hand;
“and this isn’t the key to the balcony. so do you.”
when he kisses you again, brutal and dreadful, and with too much heat for someone so, so cold, you feel the sharp cut of his foxish smile.
and maybe even some sick curve of your own.
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