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thebadgerclan · 9 months

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Brace

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: For months, you'd braced for his death...

A/N: not requested, but I love this idea

It was a miracle he’d survived it. That was what was whispered on the streets, among the Palace staff, and what was said to you. And it was true. It was a miracle that Nikolai had pulled through, that he’d survived the illness that had stricken him for months. The Healers weren’t quite sure why the King had recovered; maybe it was a combination of the medicines they’d given him, maybe the illness had run its course, or maybe your desperate prayers to the Saints had been heard.

Nikolai wasn’t quite back to full functioning, but he was getting there. He tired easily and moved slowly, but you saw that spark in him: the spark that made Nikolai Nikolai. Your husband’s council would be receiving a hefty sum of money soon, they had all but carried the burdens of the Crown while the King was sick, as you had never left his side. But Nikolai was back, you were back, and Ravka rejoiced.

He found you in your rooms, hunched over a trunk, stuffing something inside. “Darling?” he said, leaning on the doorframe. “What are you doing, beautiful?” You whirled around to face him, kicking the trunk shut as you did. “What?” “I said,” your husband replied, slowly making his way further into the room towards you. “What are you doing, beautiful? You’re not….going somewhere, are you?”

“No!” you rushed to assure him. You stood and took his hands, pressing fleeting kisses to his knuckles. “No, Kolya, I’m not going anywhere. I’m just…packing some things away. Things I won’t be needing.” “Yeah?” your husband said, bringing one hand to cup your cheek. “You’re not getting rid of those furs I brought back from Fjerda, are you?” You tried to laugh, but all that came out was a broken sob.

“Y/N? Love, what’s wrong?” You kicked the trunk open, letting Nikolai see what lay within. Gowns, cloaks, boots, shoes, jewels, veils–all in black. “Y/N, wha–” “You were so sick,” you said. “So sick, Nikolai. For nearly two months, I sat at your side and watched you deteriorate. The Healers…they did everything they could. They told me that there wasn’t much hope, Kolya, that there wasn’t much more they could try.

“Your council told me to prepare,” you continued. “So I…I had a wardrobe made. A wardrobe befitting a widow. Because I was told to brace for your death.” You cried then, and Nikolai pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “Oh, my love,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I put you through all of that.” You buried your head in his chest, fists clutching his shirt, holding on so desperately. “You didn’t lose me, Y/N, I’m right here.”

“They wanted me to start picking out flowers,” you said, voice flat and numb. “For your funeral. They wanted me to pick readings. Nikolai, I….it came so close. You came so close to dying.” He held you tighter, kissing your hairline. “Y/N, my love, look at me. There she is, there’s my beauty…” He cradled your face in his palms like you were something holy, something rare and precious; which to Nikolai, you certainly were.

“I am so sorry that you had to go through that,” he said. “And I am so sorry that you had to mourn me before I was gone. But I am here, Y/N. I am alive, and I am well. And I’m going to spend the rest of my long, long life loving you and worshiping you.” And Nikolai kissed you, making you whimper and tears spring to your eyes. “I love you,” he said. “I love you, Y/N, I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Another sob left your throat, but this one was in part from your husband’s declaration, from his affection. “I love you too, Kolya. Saints, I love you.” He held you for another few moments before speaking. “Do you know what I think you should do with those clothes, my love?” “Hmm?” “Burn them. If someone dies, I’ll make you an entirely new wardrobe. But not these. I never want to see you wear them.”

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder again. That night, Nikolai had dinner sent to your rooms, where you drank a bottle of wine while feeding your mourning clothes to the fire. “I knew you were there,” he said a while later. “While I was sick. I knew that you were at my side, even when I was delirious.” Saints, how many times could he make you cry in a day? “Y-you did?” “I did, my love. You were like a beacon calling me to shore. A tether keeping me from drifting too far.” You could only nod and send up a prayer of thanks to whatever Saints were listening for saving your Nikolai.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone reader insert #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone fanfiction

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ladystarksneedle · 7 months

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Korzion se āeksion

(Steel and Gold)

A/N and warnings: Written from Aegon's pov. Spoilers for future seasons of House of the Dragon

Word count: 623

He remembers the first time he held a sword in his hands. It was a wooden one, built according to his stature or at least that's what they'd told him at the time, claiming it to be specially commissioned for him by his father.

He had swung it about proudly afterwards, beaming up at him, his mentor smiling nearby, as he pretended to conquer every straw dummy across the yard, screaming battle cries, delighting in his little victory.

He remembers the first time he held a real blade, a steel one, gifted to him on his thirteenth name day, a fine present for a budding warrior, yet to approach manhood. The following night proved otherwise.

From then on, he remembers learning how to focus every morning, despite the pounding ache in his head after a long night of indulgence. How to bend his knees and correct his stance despite stumbling in and out of hallways to get to the yard in the first place. How to strike hard and true and never relent till your opponent is vanquished. How to show no mercy, as none was shown to him. He remembers how he began loathing what he once delighted in. He remembers the day he decided to stop waking up at dawn to the sound of clashing steel and turned his attention to a different battle instead, a conquest of sighs and moans, new pleasures to revel in.

The ringing of steel never truly left him though. His battlefield was always near. From the silent reminders of his brother excelling in the art of warfare he once wished to perfect, to the jagged edges of the seat his father sat in, followed by a new hand of rule once he became too ill.

Steel was in his bones and he could not escape it. It had seeped in and taken root like the misnomer he bore.

"I dreamt of a babe born wearing the conqueror's crown, Alicent"

Steel was in his supposed legacy, the one that was seemingly stolen away from him. Steel was in the name he was given, dripping with all the pomp and heraldry of their house.

Steel was always in his gaze, lidded and tired, its sharpness waiting to strike an unassuming target. Steel was the crown nestled above his brow as he was anointed for his doom. Steel was the blade in his hands, raised with pride, basking in the adoration he was always denied.

Steel was that very seat he now sat on, tormenting every meeting he presided upon.

Steel was the blade that felled his joy and took away his legacy with one sharp blow. Steel was the armor he rode to his death. Steel was singed to his bones, melted to his flesh, finally one with his fate.

Yet gold was the chalice of death he toasted to, laughing as he downed his drink.

Gold, the color of his beloved, his call to arms, the crown of his enemy.

Gold, were the shrouds that adorned the innocent. Gold, was the halo near his head whispering omens before he was ushered away to desolation. Gold, were the flames that achieved his destiny.

He was born with steel in his veins, with an unsavory crown of steel destined for his head. Steel that he had hated all his life, becoming his vengeance for all the gold that took and took from him, till he was nothing but broken again.

Steel shrouded him in comfort till the very end, up on his head, ready in his hand, the very seat he limped to and ruled from while gold remained ash in his mouth.

Korzion se āeksion

His curse and doom.

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch

#house of the dragon #hotd imagine #aegon ii imagine #zae's fics #aegon fics #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #the greens #house targaryen #aegon the elder

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written-in-flowers · 1 year

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Hiii. Do you think you could write something with Aemond x a disabled/chronically ill reader? Like maybe she struggles with walking and holding things/dexterity and is just sick very often. As a disabled person I’m often pretty drawn to disabled characters like Aemond but there’s like never any disabled reader fics for them 🧡 (Also I’ve sent this request to multiple people I hope you don’t mind and I can’t remember if I’ve already sent this to you so sorry if it did)

More Than That

It did not bother him at all when they told him you came with "complications". He had one himself and it irked him when his mother commented that House Lowe did not detail these "complications". Aemond had a duty to his family and his house, and he was nothing if not a good son. So, when he saw your long weirwood crutches on your wrists and the difficulty of your walk to him, he understood why you’d gone through so many suitors.

The "complication" was clear as day. You suffered from a spinal condition you've had since birth, which severely impacted your lower extremities, mainly your legs and knees You walked relatively well on your own, though it became more obvious that walking long distances pained you greatly. On your first meeting, he could tell by the clenched jaw and determination in your eyes, you tried not showing your "weakness". He could tell by your shifting eyes how aware you became of people around you. Some stared in pity and others in disgust. He knew how you felt. People often did the same to him, even though he tried hiding it.

As expected, his family held a feast for yours. Your father and his mother talked about dates and doweries while you both sat nearby. It was awkward, he won’t lie, but not because he was next to “Y/N The Broken”. It was mostly because he wasn’t much of a talker, yet he’d have to speak to you eventually. He saw how your eyes watched the dancers on the floor, seeing them move gracefully in unison to the music.

“Everyone looks so lovely here,” he heard you say. “In the North, we usually wear leather or wool, so our clothes aren’t so ornamental or colorful. But, everyone here is always shining and pretty. Is it like this all the time?”

“Not so much. It’s mostly because it’s a feast, so people enjoy showing off.” He couldn’t help looking over your soft features. You looked just as lovely, the loveliest. A daughter of The North, you stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of bright gowns and golden jewels. “If you ever wished...I could, um, have someone...fashion gowns...” it sounded so stupid, but what else could he say? He didn’t want you thinking he did not like you or was disappointed. He was the opposite. “For you?”

“Oh,” you were a bit stunned by this offer. “Um, yes, that’d be...that’d be nice.”

“You’re going to be a princess soon,” he said, “You should look like one.”

“Ha,” you huffed.

“What? You’d be marrying me, and I’m a prince.”

“I don’t look like a princess.” He noticed you eyeing his sister, Helaena, who danced with her nephew, Jacaerys.

“Who said this?”

“People.”

“What people?”

“Just...people...I see how they look at me when I walk down the corridors. They pity me. They think I’m helpless and useless. My own family even says so. My uncle asked my father how could he possibly offer me to the King when he has other daughters much more fitting for a prince. He said it’s an insult to The Crown.”

“From what I understand, your sisters are already betrothed to other lords,” he said. “Your father would be insulting them by dissolving those pacts in favor of me. I’m sure he’s more concerned with keeping his bannermen and lords content over a King thousands of miles away.” He then said, “Do you believe any of the women here would want to marry me? Some of them would rather take Aegon than me.”

“Why? You’re still a prince and...handsome...” you looked away, embarrassed by your own compliment.

“Because of this.”

Aemond removed his eyepatch to show the sparkling sapphire underneath. The deep, thick scar broke through his pale skin from brow to cheek, with another ring around the brim of his eye. The moment he did, people instantly started staring at him instead. He’d trained himself not to give them notice or pay them any mind. When he looked over at you, he saw your wide eyes and parted lips.

“I’ve heard the things people say about me. They speak about how my eye will work against me in sword fights; they say I’ll always have trouble being the same as everyone else, and how ugly my scar is. Noblewomen who are presented to me look away from it or refuse to marry me because they’re marrying a man who isn’t...” Whole. Complete. He sometimes wondered what his life might be like if he’d never lost his eye. “What I mean to say is, that I understand how you feel.”

“You’ll never be able to dance with me properly.”

“I don’t care about dancing, but we’d find a way for you to dance.”

“I won’t be able to pleasure you how you want.”

“That's certainly not true at all.”

“You’ll become burdened by me. I require assistance a lot.”

“That’s what servants are for, and you’d never be a burden to me even if I did have to do it myself.”

“I can’t ride horses...or dragons.”

“You can and I’ll help you.”

“I’ll be useless to you.”

“No, you will not. Are you trying to convince me to not marry you?”

“I’m only telling you what you’ll have to put up with from me.”

“There’s more to you than your condition. From what your father boasts about, you’re very knowledgeable in diplomacy and strategy. You’ve studied philosophy, cultures, and histories. You’ve studied other cultures and languages, and he claims you speak High Valyrian?”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head and laughed. “Your uncle, Prince Daemon, visited my father once at Tower Hill, and he taught me a few words. I think he was only being kind to me because he felt sorry for me.”

Or because he’d never bedded a crippled woman before and wanted to see what it was like. It angered him somewhat. You’re not a novelty or exotic sexual venture. You’re a person, a beautiful person, and his wife-to-be. “I could teach it to you,” he said, “If you wished to truly learn it. I speak it the most fluently out of my siblings, and I won’t mind.”

You smiled softly. It lit up your face and crinkled your eyes slightly. You looked beautiful. “That’d be lovely.”

“I’d also like to introduce you to my dragon,” he added. “Vhagar is a bit skittish with strangers, but once she’s used to your scent, she’s less aggressive.”

“I heard she’s the oldest of them all?”

“And the largest.”

You then giggled, and when you gave you a questionable look, you said, “Oh, forgive me, my prince. I just had the silly thought that perhaps she chose you because you remind her of Queen Visenya.”

“What?” he almost laughed at it himself.

“With your hair being white and long like hers, and her being the dragon equivalent of an old maid, I imagined her thinking you were, but only missing an eye.”

He couldn’t help laughing with you. “Oh gods, now I’m going to think of that whenever I ride her.”

The mood between you lifted after that. Aemond continued talking with you all night, slowly building a world with only the two of you. To him, you were the most interesting person in the room. It was rare for him to meet someone who didn’t stare at his eye or give notice to it. Most people usually couldn’t stop. He hated to think how you’d react if he ever removed it, and he’d never do so.

Once you started living in the Red Keep, Aemond constructed a chair with wheels, so you’d go places faster instead of relying on guards to lift you everywhere or struggle with your crutches. It gave you a sense of freedom whenever you went down long halls in your chair. You liked it more when Aemond wheeled you around instead of a guard. He took you on walks around the gardens, and showed you all his favorite places within the castle. He brought you to the godswood, which quickly became your favorite place since it reminded you of home. It always was the sight of your first kiss. You’d been reading out loud about the Ghiscari empire when he softly called your name. When you turned your head, he kissed you briefly. When you gave him that bright smile, he kissed you again.

To ride horses, since you admired them so much, he constructed a special saddle for you. You’d command the horse with words and sounds instead of feet movement, even though you managed to do that as well. He marveled watching you trot your horse, Summer, around the yard for a while. Your delighted giggles, and cheers made him smile, a thing he so rarely did. Riding Vhagar was no problem, since he held you close to him in the saddle. You admitted you’d prefer staying on the ground, but you still greatly admired his mount.

He didn’t wear his eye patch around you. Seeing his own disability made you more comfortable with yours. Soon, he stopped caring if people stared, because it certainly took attention away from you on your chair. Your comfort and happiness is always a priority to Aemond.

The day of your wedding, he thought you were the most beautiful woman in the room. He couldn’t take his eyes off you for too long, because nothing kept his attention as much as you. Aemond hated dancing, but he let your feet stand over his as he moved around the room. It was careful and not the same speed as everyone else, yet it made you happier than ever. When time for the bedding came, Aemond carried you to the bed, kissing and taking great care not to hurt you.

That night, Aemond showed you all the ways you both could pleasure one another. Having you on the edge of the bed broke your maidenhead for him. Then propping you up on pillows to have you from behind (as you’d asked if he would); the second time involved you in his lap so you grinded against one another and on your sides facing one another and also with your back to him became part of your regular routine. Aemond kissed and fondled you throughout it, and you did the same back.

When you had your firstborn, you thought the child might come out with a disability the same as yours, but you’d been wrong. Taegon Targaryen came out healthy and pink with white hair and your eye color. A son of The North and The South. You wrapped him in a shawl you’d embroidered, dragons and bears running side by side over a field of dark green. He grew into a handsome, capable youth who had his mother’s good heart and his father’s martial skills.

Aemond loved and adored you, and he showed that to you every day until his last.

***

A/N: okay, so this was my first attempt at writing a disabled character. Since the illnesses I have aren’t physical ones, I wasn’t sure where to begin, but I looked to my mother who has a lot of physical/spinal issues and took direction from there. I really enjoyed writing this little venture from my comfort zone, and I hope the requester enjoyed it too.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x yn #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd drabbles #hotd imagines #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #ewan mitchell

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descendants-brat · 2 years

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Top 3 reasons people hate Audrey that I think are false

I've been wanting to post this for awhile but I've been just not really into being on tumblr all too much. But I was on tiktok and sometimes come across posts defending Audrey and the comments that rebuttal them have so much misinformation in them and it annoys me because it's usually being spoken as fact and if you just think you'll see why it's wrong.

1.) Audrey bullied the VKs

Audrey is not a nice person I'll get that right of the bat now. She's a royal princess she's had etiquette training and that's really the whole problem, she knows what it is and doesn't care to use it on people she doesn't want to. Name actually scenes or scenarios where she full blown bullied or harassed the VKs, I can't name one. Her whole suspicion/ not wanting to be friends with the Vks is why she's labeled as a bully. She's barely even spoken to them when you really get down to it. She let Evie know factual information, she had no royal status in Auradon, she didn't know Evie so it's not like she knew how significant royal status was to her but it was true. The Evil queen was seen as a criminal not a queen in Auradon so why would Evie be seen as princess? The problem comes with the etiquette problem I talked about Audrey knew this probably would've made things awkward or embarrassed Evie she just didn't care, but she didn't Bully her. I can't recall a scene where she has spoken to directly or talked ill about carlos or Jay. She didn't even have a problem with Mal, she had a problem with her mom, and never said anything to Mal about it she would talk to it privately to Ben. She didn't try to stop anyone from being friends with them or alienate them. She again, just talking to Ben, her boyfriend said she he should probably have some common sense and not blindly trust the vks. Even on Family day what Jane said was worse than what she said, all she said was that Ben was going through a bad girl phase Jane made sure to get in Mal's ear with what she said. In D3 her problem was with everybody so she never singled them out to bully them.

2.) She was a mean girl

To me personally there isn’t too much of a difference between a mean girl and a bully which is why even though she isn’t nice I wouldn’t say she a mean girl. She didn’t run Auradon by fear or brute force, and had people scared of her. The person I would say she was mean to was Jane and that’s just because she giggled when she got her hair unspelled. If we’re going according to the other resources besides the movies because we really don’t see much, Audrey was pretty well liked and popular and tried to behave like a ‘princess’ as much as she could. She’s snarky and prissy I’d say that before I’d called her a full blown mean girl, when I think Mean girl I think Isle Mal, Courtney shane from jawbreakers etc actual evilness. She just needs to learn how to watch her mouth, because at least in D1 she hadn’t actual done anything to anybody. Like hey audrey, even if they ask your opinion it’s kind of an spoken rule to not tell your friend that the dress in fact makes their feet look big. Little out of touch shit like that I could see Audrey doing but then turning around and opening up her closet to them or taking them shopping if they can’t find something in her room because she wasn’t trying to be mean she was trying to be honest, they asked she told the truth and tried to help.

3.) Audrey never loved Ben she just wanted the crown.

FALSE!!! I'm so tired of seeing this narrative it’s the same false narrative as them being in an arranged marriage. These things were never stated as canon people just assumed because it’s easier to hate her that way and justify having them broken up. For starters they had a very high school like relationship according to her diary and canon. She wasn’t dreaming of taking over Auradon and ruling over people. She liked reading notes Ben left on her locker, walking with him through the halls to class, wearing his jersey before games and cheering for him. She liked talking to him and having lunch, she knew his biggest fear and insecurity so they definitely had meaningful conversations. According to her diary since when the first got together in high school she was excited because she really liked Ben and had been crushing on him when HE asked her to be his girlfriend. When her grandma found her she said she was clever for putting herself in first place for the throne and Audrey said it wasn’t like that, she wanted to take things slow and fall in love and then like every teenager who fantasizes about marrying their crush she said they’d rule together. She wasn’t thinking “let me lock him down as soon as possible” Most people date for marriage so if you’re dating a king who you plan on marrying on some point why wouldnt you be assumed queen. Audrey loved Ben but as a princess who was dating a King yeah she knew she’d probably be the queen JUST LIKE MAL DID. Mal immediately went into becoming a lady of the court when her and Ben became official. The only canon girls who were directly after the crown and so used Ben were Mal and Uma who both had their own motives respectable or not. Audrey was a teenage princess dating her teenage prince crush and because she knew that this would end up with her being a queen all of a sudden she never cared about Ben and just wanted the crown. She had pictures of this boy all over her room and took him on special dates just the two of them because she cared they were all more easier and quicker ways to get married to him if that was all she wanted.

Unless I said something was canon these are all of course just my opinion and you’re free to feel differently as that is your right, especially the first two because they have grey area because in the movies she wasn’t this super kind nice willing to say sweet words girl but when you really look into it was she the worst person ever who bullied people no.

#Audrey Rose #baudrey #descendants au #princess audrey #Audrey deserves better #ben x audrey #audrey descendants #descendants audrey #king ben #king benjamin #ben descendants #anti mal #anti mal bertha #anti bal #descendants #disney descendants

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ventiswampwater · 1 year

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hey hi someday when u have like ten minutes would u teach me how to write please??? just cause that itty bitty lil snippet you just shared made me physically ill and altered my brain chemistry permanently. if u could just like........sneeze on me......maybe everything will be okay????

dsjhjdsfhjfdshjdfs MEG HOW DARE U SAY THIS WHEN EVERYTHING U WRITE HAS MY BRAIN ON FIRE

just for u, I dredged out the rest of that absolute horrorshow. it's been gathering dust in my docs for months

it's weird speculative fucknonsense like, oh shit!!! boseph and the reader are stuck in a timeloop!!!! an ouroboros of pain and misery!!! it's all v confusing out of context but I definitely.........wrote it jdsfhjhdfsjhdfsj

"There has to be something wrong with you." Your mother looks at him across the kitchen table. He brought tulips. You can't tell if she's wearing her face or someone else's.

"There's something wrong with everybody, mama." You've never called her that. Is that your mother? Is that his? You don't remember her hair being that shade, but your memory isn't what it used to be.

"I hurt her on purpose." Sometimes it seems like he's grown more teeth and they're crowding into his mouth. They've gone sharp again. Wait, look at the flowers on the table. Carnation now.

"So, you got a brother?"

He has two. Two and you've kissed both of them. You'll do it again. They know what your cunt tastes like. He doesn’t, he tells you. He never will. Because that's a place of rot, of death. But you wake up with a tongue inside you because he's between your legs again, practicing penance.

He must not mind blood. He must not mind decay on his tongue. He must taste his brothers. Maybe he misses them.

“Where have you been, my love? My sweet girl. You left one day and you never came back.”

And you say

Mama, I'm sorry, I've just been real busy.

Busy doing what? Getting hurt? You're growing up, baby. I can't stop you from getting big. No matter what I do, I can’t.

And you know, you know, because suddenly you're sitting on her side of the table wearing her skin and your son is holding some girl's hand. And she's looking at you and telling you that she hurts him on purpose sometimes. Because he asked her to, he begged her like a slut, and he’s so pretty when he takes himself apart in front of her. She knows what his blood tastes like. She wants more.

Do you love my baby? Do you have any siblings? Will he leave one day and never come back?

Do you love me on purpose sometimes or is it always an accident?

His cum tastes like mercury from a broken thermometer. Oranges with sugar sprinkled over them. Home. Wait. Wrong boy, same face. You got a little confused. It's understandable. You can't help yourself. You want to scoop out your insides and give them to him to eat. He'd do it nicely, if you ask politely.

There are rules here, gorgeous. We weren’t raised by wolves.

You’re leaning on the pool cue. You look like you did the first day, in your pretty little clothes, the flush of health in your cheeks. In this dream, you reached Baton Rouge. He meets you here. He’ll always meet you here. This is his favorite bar. He’s always here, he’s a regular.

“Need a partner?”

“Don’t know.” You wink at him. “Are you okay with losing?”

“Feisty.”

“This time, yeah.” You smile at him. You’ve got lipstick on. He wants to smear it down your chin.

“Why did you do that?” Your voice is small, gurgled around the blood on your teeth. He likes the way the crown of your head is wet with blood.

“Why you think?” He stands in the doorway to the basement. You’re in the chair and you’re dead, but so is he.

“Tell me, please. Tell me.” You hiss. “I love your voice.”

“I missed ya’.” He hears the words echo in his head, fifty feet high in neon.

“I thought I would give it a try again, you know.” Your voice is a dirty croak. “Just to see.”

“And whatchu find out?”

“We always end up back here.” You smile at him. “You took a different road this time. I haven’t been there in a while.”

“Didn’t notice.”

“You know, we got a hotel room up in the city once. I made you buy me wine.”

“Sounds nice.”

“I was hoping this was the one where we walked on the boardwalk. Before.” His initials trickle down your arm. “I don’t know why.”

“How many times we been down here?”

“Couple times." You hiccup out a laugh. "I like your shirt. You look good.”

“Night, baby.”

He's fucked you or you've fucked him. He's not sure where the ache is coming from or where it's all supposed to go but someone can't sit down. There's a bag of peas in the fridge.

You’re a tableau of gore, blood soaked through your nightgown. Your head sloshes unevenly on your shoulders. He can see the window through the shotgun blast in your eye. It’s dark out there. You clasp your hands and hum, busying yourself with the stove. You leave muddy footprints on the floor, the bottom of your nightgown sodden.

He sinks to his knees in the kitchen. You thread a hand through his hair, tugging his head up to look at you. Dripping with murky water, leaving parts of you everywhere.

“Where are we?”

“Heaven.” You smile at him. Blood drips onto his face.

“How long we been here?”

“I’m not sure.”

Are you cooking tonight, baby? Are we having peas, am I having you, down my throat and inside me and in my blood? Are we going to bed again or are we going to church? There’s a hole in your head and I’ll fuck it. I’ll fill you up because you love me. Because we’re having a baby, mama. We’re having a baby! I’m gonna be a daddy. You’re sitting in the waiting room and you’ve had the baby and I’m showing you pictures of him at baseball practice. What are you making? Let me help. Please.

“You ain’t never gonna get tired of this?”

“Of course not. Never. I love you.”

You sit in an apartment living room. There’s Halloween decorations still up—it’s May, isn’t it? and a collection of half-eaten takeout boxes on the coffee table. Lazy fucks. You can hear the city outside the window. Where are you again? Does it matter? You look into the bedroom. They’re playing a card game.

“Lick your partner's boot, yay or nay?”

“Gross. Nay.” The version of you on the bed wrinkles her nose. “Question time. Where did we meet?”

“Uh. Huh…uh.” The him on the bed screws up his brow, sticks his tongue out in mock-confusion. He looks out at the living room, grinning. “Ya’ know this one?”

“House party.” The Him you know leans into the bedroom, resting his head on the frame. He’s bleeding from the back of his head. You shot him. There’s no exit wound. That’s your blood. “It’s a fuckin’ dump in here.”

“Bingo!” The boy on the bed folds his fingers into the shape of a gun. Taps them on the girl’s forehead. She’s wearing a t-shirt they bought in some backwater town last year.

“You can’t do that! I don’t have a phone-a-friend! She won’t even talk to me.” The you that sits on the bed has chipped nail polish. She’s pouting. And suddenly he’s kissing her, and the cards are slipping off the bed.

“Are you ever one of them?” You ask Him.

He shakes his head.

“I’m always out here watchin’. I dunno who the fuck that is.”

And he asks you “Which one do you want?” while you’re reaching for the knife in the kitchen and you want to say him, because you can hear them fucking in the other room and she’s giggling. They went on vacation and he drove. He had his keys, you guess. She’s giggling and there are flies buzzing around the takeout and suddenly you guess that this might just be a dump anyway. He’s right. He’s always right, except when he’s turning down the back roads. Then he’s left.

If you could find your fucking keys, we could get out of here. You stupid fuck. Please kiss me again.

So you tell him “Her.” and he presses himself against your back and you ache because you aren’t full, you aren’t hurt. He hasn’t actually fucked you yet. It might be another thousand years until he does again.

Where were you at the party? Which room did we meet in? Did you fuck me in the bathroom? Did we ever go on that trip? I’ve got questions, please, please, daddy. Haven’t I been good? Don’t I deserve to know? Why don’t we ever wake up as them? Why do I have to listen to him fuck her? Why is she laughing?

“Don’t make us wait all fuckin’ day!” The him in the other room calls out. “The next card is voyeurism!”

“Yay or nay?”

You eat the rest of the chow mein. The maggots taste like love.

Your son calls you by your name. You haven’t heard it in years.

Daddy’s a photographer, baby. He takes pictures of weddings. He takes pictures of the sky.

“I found more in Pa’s drawer.” He chokes around air, his words coming out in watery gulps. He stares at you through your eyes. You see him without seeing him. You see yourself.

“What were you doing in there, baby?” You hear your voice behind you, curled beside your ear. It comes from the door and the window and the wallpaper—and then deeper still, in the core of the house, bleeding.

“I was lookin’ for a gun.”

The floor underneath you splinters and you bottom out. You’re in the caverns snaking under the town and the church pews. You’re not in any of those places, either. The fuzz of television static is back, crowding around you and pushing you between the jagged hopping of the lines as they jitter around your skull.

“Baby.” You gather him into your arms, pulling him into the crook of your neck. He sobs. His grip is too tight. You’ve been here before, but never like this. The static hisses into glittering points of light. The front of your dress is soaked with tears, with the blubber of drool from his mouth as he babbles that

he didn’t know why he did that, because daddy always keeps his guns in the living room, and he knows that, but he went in anyway because maybe he’d forgotten this time—

Your lightning bug boy with baby fat still in his cheeks, skimmed off the edges to make room for a face that began and ended with you. Half-man already, limbs too big for the space he occupied. The remnants of the boy on the roof, a bruise blooming on his cheek. Your heart walking around and growing teeth.

—and maybe maybe mama, I could. I could.

I know how.

“Baby. You gotta go put all that back.” Your voice is a whisper of smoke above the treeline.

“How long you been here, mama?”

You can see yourself on the set of drawers over the top of his head. She smiles at you.

You're at the top of the ferris wheel and you ask him if you can stay here. He tells you that you're stupid, that if you stayed here you would die. You're too high up. Eventually all the air would go out of your lungs and the amusement park would fall out from underneath your feet. You stupid slut, take it, choke on it, choke on it for daddy. Keep calling me that, I'm gonna come. Fair season is ending. Everything's gotta end eventually. Except for this, right? You celebrate the harvest, you tuck a cigarette in his back pocket. For luck, for love. If you stayed here, maybe you could see past the top of the trees. Maybe you could see the smoke.

Are you trying to fucking LEAVE me, baby?

Don't leave yet.

Hold your breath. I like being up here with you.

10.

So many gods, but only one church. An old western plays on the theater screen. It's the idea of a different world. This town ain't big enough for the both of us. It never was.

#u did not ask for this but I gave it to u bc I am INCAPABLE of shutting tf up tonight djhfdjhdfjhdfsj #anyways ily meg can u teach ME how to write #FR!!!!!!#asks #visceravalentines #sinclair brainrot hours #this is pre-writing sanguine and u can absolutely tell lmao hdjhdfjsh #I was on some other shit fr

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morningsofgold · 1 year

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the silver-forked sky lifts you up like a star

- Rhaenyra X Alicent - 4k - Rated M

A bittersweet Rhaenicent fic in which Rhaenyra flies to King’s Landing to negotiate with Alcient herself. Tenderness ensues, despite all the spilled blood and broken promises between them.

Or: Alicent has never had an orgasm in her life. Rhaenyra fixes that.

Rhaenyra arrives at King's Landing on dragonback, under the cover of night. It’s a foolhardy gesture, with all of Westeros poised on the brink of war, and it’s arrogant besides, to think that Alicent would receive her in the wee hours of the morning with no time to prepare, but it’s quintessentially Rhaenyra.

Rash, impulsive.

Demanding.

Alicent’s fingers shake on the laces of her bodice as Talya dresses her as quickly as possible. Alicent had woken up with tears on her pillow again, for the dead King, for herself, for her children, it was impossible to say. She has been besieged by foul dreams of late, portents of doom. She never put her faith in Viserys’ dreams and omens, preferring instead the steadfast faith of the Seven, but she’s starting to believe in ill signs.

Rhaenyra’s appearance cannot be a coincidence. It can’t be.

“Shall I have the kitchens prepare a meal to welcome the Princess?” Talya asks, as deferential as always.

“No,” Alicent replies, adjusting the green jewel hanging around her throat by a length of silk. If she’s going to face down her oldest friend and most hated rival, she’s going to do it looking the part of a Queen. “Tell no one of the Princess’ arrival, not until I’ve had my private audience with her. Bring her to my chambers just as she requested.”

“Yes, your Grace.”

With that, Talya scurries out. Alicent is left feeling slightly lightheaded as she steps into her embroidered slippers.

She knew she was going to have to see Rhaenyra again, especially after sending her father as her envoy to Dragonstone. She just didn’t think it was going to be so soon.

The doors to her chambers swing open and Rhaenyra strides in.

Her hair is coming loose from its styling from the whipping winds over the sea, and she’s still dressed in her riding leathers. A crown is poised on her stately brow, and Alicent breath catches in her throat at the sight. It’s a little bit of rage, at the usurping of Aegon’s position, and it’s a little bit of fear, for the safety of her children, but it’s double the measure of awe, at seeing Rhaeneyra looking so devastatingly regal.

Rhaenyra burns.

Alicent must be like water, cool and colorless, adapting to any shape, surviving any pressure. She must lead through gentle guidance, direct the kingdom through feminine grace.

She cannot divert from her course, even for an instant.

She cannot relent in the steady way she wears away at her enemies, like waves against stone.

She cannot want.

But for one treacherous instant, as Rhaenyra stands ramrod straight and stares her down with those violet eyes, looking like the very terror and glory of old Valyria, Alicent remembers what it is like to want. Suddenly she’s fifteen years old again, plucking petals off lilies and wondering if the Realm’s Delight might delight in her.

Alicent shakes off the memory like a spider crawling up her sleeve, rooting herself to the present moment.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” she says, nodding to acknowledge her equal. “I must admit I’m caught off guard by your arrival, but I’m honored to be graced by your presence, especially in light of the tensions between our families, and I–”

“That’s enough, Alicent,” Rhaenyra says, striding forward. Her teeth are set, her eyes are alight, and every inch of her seems to vibrate with barely contained dragonfire. Alicent has no idea if she’s enraged or gripped by some other more unruly passion.

“Are we speaking frankly now?” Alicent asks, clasping her fingers together so tight in front of her that they turn white. The urge to pick and gnaw at her cuticles wells up inside her, but she squashes it down for the thousandth time. She’s not a girl anymore. She doesn’t give in to unseemly habits. “I assume you’re seeking an informal audience with me, since you demanded to be delivered to my private chambers while the rest of the keep slept.”

Rhaenyra rounds on her, and they’re suddenly very close to one another. Alicent knows that she could call for help; one scream and Ser Criston would come charging through the door to rescue her. But she doesn’t feel unsafe with Rhaenyra, despite all the years and agonies between them. She feels only that she is seeing the real Rhaenyra now, with every nicety stripped away.

“What do you call this?” Rhaenyra demands, reaching into her rain-splattered tunic to retrieve a folded piece of parchment. It’s soft to the touch from being handled hundreds of times, and Alicent recognizes it immediately.

“Ah,” Alicent says primly. “You received my message.”

“Received it I may, but I have no idea how to interpret it. Do you mean to taunt me, after all the pain that’s passed between us? I have thought you many things, Alicent, but never needlessly cruel, and this…” Rhaenyra looks down at the page. “This is cruel.”

Alicent opens her mouth and then closes it again. It’s so hard to know how to proceed with Rhaenyra. At one time, she had been able to predict Rhaenyra’s whims and moods like a maester might predict the sex of a baby, but now the gulf between them is too wide.

“I meant only to remind you of the affection that once lay between us,” Alicent says, voice soft.

“It’s a manipulation,” Rhaenyra says with a disbelieving little laugh. “A naked play for my emotions.”

Alicent wrinkles her nose at that. She had not meant to manipulate Rhaenyra.

Or maybe she had. She was a Hightower, after all.

“Haven’t we had our fill of misery?” Alicent asks, and she hears it, the exhaustion in her voice. Gods, but she wants the fighting to end. She won’t accept losing, though. Never that. “Hasn’t there been enough suffering between our houses already?”

“I know what you want from me. You can’t have it.”

Alicent clasps Rhaenyra’s hands between her own. The piece of parchment crumples between them, following the lines left by years of handling.

“Bend the knee to Aegon, Rhaenyra. Accept his rulership and you will be the uncontested Lady of Dragonstone. Your firstborn son will rule Driftmark, and Jace and Luke will have esteemed places at court.”

“You kept it,” Rhaenyra says. “All these years and you kept it. Why?”

They’re suddenly not talking about the succession crisis anymore. They’re talking about something more intimate, something more frightening, and Alicent very nearly panics. She quickly thinks of a clever lie.

“It was such a pretty illustration, it seemed a shame to throw it away.”

Rhaenyra cocks her head, a gesture she must have picked up from Syrax and not any human person, and she narrows her eyes at Alicent.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Is that what you flew all the way out here to discuss? My girlhood fancies?”

Alicent is trying to talk about the piece of parchment, about the passing fancy to keep it, but it sounds like she’s talking about another kind of fancy, and she blanches.

Rhaenyra’s silver eyebrows draw together in consternation, or confusion.

“We were friends once. Constant companions. Am I not owed your honesty, at least?”

The words sting like Alicent pricking her thumb while embroidering, but she doesn’t let Rhaenyra see that. Friends. Companions. It was a lifetime ago, and it seems almost callous to bring their past up now.

But Rhaenyra flew across the sea to discuss ancient history, and Alicent has never been any good at denying her.

“It reminded me of the fondness we once held for each other,” Alicent says quietly, every word carefully selected. It feels like maneuvering game pieces across a board, but the game they’re playing has deadly consequences. One wrong word, and Rhaenyra could storm off and declare war, sending her dragons to scorch the crown’s soldiers to ash. One wrong word, and Alicent’s children could be thrust into even more jeopardy than they are now, sweet Helena and clever Aemond and even sullen Aegon, who Alicent does love, despite his feckless behavior and improprieties.

One wrong word, and Alicent will never see Rhaenyra again unless it's across a battlefield.

“Is that all it ever was?” Rhaenyra asks. “Childish fondness?”

“We were only girls,” Alicent says, her voice so soft now that she’s whispering. It’s her best defense, forged in the crucible of the unforgiving halls of King’s Landing, to make herself smaller when threatened. Open retaliation is better left to those who answer to Alicent, to men like Cole.

Alicent is no warrior. But she knows how to twist a knife.

Rhaenyra’s chin dimples, and for a moment Alicent thinks she might start to cry. But then Rhaenyra swallows down her emotion and presses on. She’s still gripping Alicent’s hand, so tightly that Alicent can feel the Targaryen blood pumping beneath Rhaenyra’s skin.

“We were girls, yes, but we were supposed to help each other navigate womanhood together. We were supposed to look out for each other. We were supposed to…” She trails off, either unable or unwilling to say whatever is dancing on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she turns to accusation, as always. “You betrayed my trust. You bewitched my father and birthed children meant to supplant me and mine.”

“Bewitched?” Alicent demands, and an old familiar rage floods her veins. She wrenches her hand out of Rhaenyra’s grasp. “I was a child of ten and five when I was wed to your father. I was only doing what I was told to do, Rhaenyra, I only wanted to serve the crown and please my father.”

Her father, who loves her as dearly as a drunk loves mead, or a miser loves his gold. Her father, who can only express that love by maneuvering her through the halls of Kings Landing like a marionette.

“I only ever fulfilled my duty,” Alicent forges on, working herself into a lather. Gods, but she could throttle Rhaenyra. Why did she think this time would be different? These are the only roles they have ever been able to play, The Princess and the Queen, poised with daggers to each other’s throats. “You have flaunted your duty at every turn since you were old enough to walk. I know you Rhaenyra. I know you better than anyone. You claw for power but you do not know how to wield it. You demand obeisance but would rather serve your own ends than the kingdom.”

Her words are tantamount to treason, and would be grounds to execute most anyone else. But Alicent isn’t anyone else, she’s Alicent Hightower, and this is her home Rhaenyra has barged into. She stands with her head held high, no matter the way her gut churns with anxiety.

Rhaenyra seethes for a moment, pacing in a tight circle, then she relents. She takes one step closer to Alicent and then another, until she’s close enough that Alicent can smell the seaspray and dragonpit and candlesmoke on her skin. It’s a scent that’s essentially, deliriously Rhaenyra.

“Our families have ruined each other,” Rhaenyra says. “And for what? For a crown? It’s a hollow victory, if I cannot…”

She bites back her words again, turning away sharply. Alicent feels like a bowstring pulled taut, like she might snap at any moment.

“If you cannot what?” She demands. She’s losing control of the situation, of herself, and the conversation is hurtling towards some inevitable conclusion. She’s not sure if blood is going to be drawn, or if war is going to be declared, but she welcomes the confrontation either way. She’s exhausted from always maintaining her composure, always acting the perfect part.

“If I cannot have you!” Rhaenyra erupts.

Alicent rears back like a startled mare. Rhaenyra has always been a tangle of contradictions, as possessive as she was kind, as greedy for devotion as she was generous with her own favor. Alicent somehow convinced herself that all the tender touches and whispered secrets they had shared in childhood were just the result of Rhaenyra’s careening, fickle affections, but deep down, she knows better. Rhaenyra is loyal with her love, no matter how much time and a thousand cuts might have corroded that love.

“You’re mad,” Alicent whispers, because she has no idea what to do except to strike out. She knows it will hurt, the accusation that Rhaenyra is just another insane Targaryen, but Rhaenyra doesn’t seem phased.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” Rhaenyra dares, like they’re ten years old again, egging each other into stealing sweets from the palace kitchen. “Tell me you don’t think of me the way I think of you, and I’ll leave this instant. But don’t lie to me. Not after everything we’ve suffered together.”

Alicent opens her mouth but no sound comes out. She’s caught in Rhaenyra’s flame, doused in the light coming off her, and she cannot look away.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she says finally. “It never has.”

“What if it did?” Rhaenyra says, and there’s a dangerous, silky darkness in her voice now. She steps right into Alicent’s orbit, ducking her head slightly so her eyes are downcast and her mouth is close to Alicent’s ear. “What if I could make it matter, to the entire Realm?”

“This is just another play for power,” Alicent says, but her stomach is trembling.

“I want the throne, I won’t speak falsely about that,” Rhaenyra says, with a desperation in her voice Alicent hasn’t heard in a long time. “But I want you at my side. I want your children safe. I want peace.”

“How?” Alicent demands. Tears sting at her eyes, but she blinks them away. Strong. She must remain strong. She cannot give into this manipulation. What would her father say? What would her children think? “Show me how.”

Without another word, Rhaenyra cups Alicent’s face in her hands and kisses her.

Rhaenyra kisses to devour, to consume entirely. She kisses like she’s trying to make up for every instant of every day she’s spent not kissing Alicent.

Shock rolls through Alicent’s entire body. She freezes under Rhaenyra’s touch, the way she used to freeze under Viserys’, but then a stirring, undeniable warmth spreads through her. This is the kiss she’s been aching for since she was a girl, chasing Rhaenyra through the godswood until they were both giggling and out of breath. This is the kiss she wouldn’t even let herself dare to dream about, the kiss that could bring a kingdom to its knees.

“Daemon,” Alicent says against Rhaenyra’s lips, firmly, as though she’s trying to convince herself that she’s hallucinating this entire exchange.

“Daemon will deny me nothing,” Rhaenyra says, nudging Alicent’s nose with her own. It’s so similar to their old companionable touches, the way they would bump shoulders or walk with arms linked through the halls. “Our bond is secure; he knows that.”

Alicent is out of excuses, and she’s tired of pretending. She holds perfectly still and lets Rhaenyra press her lips to her own, tentatively at first, and then with more purpose. Alicent holds up under the siege of tenderness for three seconds, four, and then she parts her lips with a little sigh and surrenders.

Rhaenyra’s arms slide around her and pull her in close, close enough to squeeze the breath from her lungs. Alicent is suddenly dizzy, from the closeness, from the kiss, and she never wants any of it to end.

She kisses Rhaenyra back, a kiss as poison-sweet as a smiling betrayal, and she realizes that her cheeks are wet with tears. When did she start to cry?

“Sixteen years,” she gasps as the dam finally breaks. “Sixteen years, Rhaenyra.”

“I know,” Rhaenyra murmurs, kissing Alicent over and over again. “I know.”

Rhaenyra slips her fingers deftly between the laces of Alicent’s bodice and unfastens the ties. Alicent reaches up and takes the crown from Rhaenyra’s head, setting it down gently on a nearby table.

This is what it could have been like for them every night, she thinks miserably, if things had been different. Helping each other get ready for bed. Unburdening each other from the yoke of rulership.

They help each other undress like handmaidens, marveling at every new inch of exposed skin, every tress of loosened hair. Alicent should be cold and embarrassed, standing in nothing but her shift, but all she feels is warmth and rightness.

No matter what happens when the dawn comes, this night belongs to them.

Rhaenyra kisses the divot at the base of Alicent’s throat, and when Rhaenyra lifts her hand to smooth Alicent’s hair out of her face, Alicent presses kisses to the tips of each of Rhaenyra’s fingers. She cannot form the words of an apology, and furthermore, she’s not sure her pride will ever let her speak them, but she hopes this will be enough.

In a breathless fervor Alicent has never before experienced, they find themselves on the bed. Alicent arches into Rhaenyra’s touch as she smoothes her hand from Alicent’s belly up to the space between her breasts, raising her shift with the deft motion. Moments later, Alicent is naked. Rhaenyra is wearing nothing but the sheer linen shirt she wore beneath her riding clothes.

Rhaenyra captures Alicent’s mouth in her own and slips her fingers between the Queen’s legs, cupping her sex. The touch is curious, gentle even, and Alicent is surprised by the way her blood rushes to that spot in response.

Alicent expects to float out of her body and watch the proceedings from afar, because that’s what coupling has always been like for her, but the opposite happens. If anything, she is more rooted to her body than ever, more aware of every tingling nerve and raised goosebump.

“Rhaenyra,” she says. She could say her name a thousand times and it would never be enough to express everything that lies between them, every false hope and broken promise, every late night and unforgiving morning.

“You’re lovely like this,” is all Rhaenyra says, as though they were any other pair of lovers. She lets Alicent slide her hands beneath Rhaenyra’s shirt and tug it over her head. Alicent is dazzled by the beauty underneath, the way the low candle light illuminates Rhaenyra’s pale skin.

All her life, she has been faithful to men, first to her father and then to Viserys. She has taken no lovers, engaged in no affairs. She has never even touched another woman, despite the creeping urges that she had prayed countless times for the Mother to deliver her from. But in this moment, a puzzle piece slots into place in her mind, and the truth is suddenly bright and clear as the sun through cut glass.

She has always wanted this, from the moment she was old enough to know what wanting was.

She has always wanted Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra covers her in kisses, pausing to worship Alicent’s breasts with her mouth, and Alicent is surprised by the small, needy sound that comes out of her mouth. Then Rhaenyra moves lower, kissing her navel before moving to the dark curls between her legs.

“Don’t–” Alicent starts. She’s suddenly afraid, even though she doesn’t know why. “I’ve never–”

Rhaenyra gives her a look that can only be called mischievous.

“Alicent, you’ve birthed a bevy of children.”

“No, I mean no one has ever…” She trails off and huffs, flustered. She doesn't know why it’s so hard to talk about this. She’s always had a frank, pragmatic view of sex as a necessary burden at best and a distraction to others at worst, but this feels…different somehow. She feels suddenly exposed. Vulnerable.

“Just lie back and try to relax,” Rhaenyra says, and lowers her mouth again.

Alicent gasps in surprise as Rhaenyra’s tongue makes contact with the most hidden part of her, laving from her entrance up to the small bud at the peak of her sex. The sensation is heady, delirium inducing, and Alicent is suddenly intimately aware of why ladies ruin their reputations and their marriage prospects for the sake of a lover.

Rhaenyra’s hands come up to squeeze Alicent’s thighs.

“Remember to breathe,” Rhaenyra says. “You’re tense.”

Alicent does her best to do what she’s told, losing herself to the feeling building in the base of her belly. She isn’t unfamiliar with pleasure, she’s had her brushes with it from time to time, but it’s never overtaken her with such intensity. Alicent feels like she’s drowning, like she’s burning up on a pyre at the same time.

“Rhaenyra,” she gasps, threading her fingers through all that silver hair. “Rhaenyra, I can’t, I can’t…”

“Yes you can,” Rhaenyra murmurs, and sucks directly on that little pink bud.

Alicent comes with a sharp cry, and she’s so lost to the wave of euphoria that she doesn’t even care if someone might hear her.

She’s floating, drifting through the air. She doesn’t have a body anymore, she’s nothing but a ripple in the bedsheets.

Rhaenyra crawls up closer to her, laying her head on Alicent’s bosom.

“Alicent,” she says quietly. “Come back to me, darling. You’re safe.”

Safe. Alicent hasn’t felt safe since she was a child. Safe is the antithesis of her lot in life in King’s Landing. But somehow, for a brief, flickering moment, she does feel safe in Rhaenyra’s arms.

She feels held.

Slowly, the sensation returns to the tips of her fingers and toes. The insistent throb between her legs, so familiar from her guilty nights alone, is still there, but it’s quieter now. Satisfied for the time being.

Alicent has never been satisfied, not in life and not in her bedchamber. This is altogether new.

She isn’t used to being pleasured. But pleasuring another, that’s something she’s a quick study at.

“Show me,” she breathes. “Show me how you wish to be touched.”

In response, Rhaenyra crawls on top of Alicent, slotting their legs together so the wet heat of her is pressing to Alicent’s thigh. Rhaenyra leans in for another kiss, and rocks her hips against Alicent.

Alicent lets out a little gasp at the motion, and Rhaenyra makes a pleased humming sound low in her throat.

“I wish for nothing but exactly what you are.”

They kiss and move together with growing urgency, building up heat and friction anew. Rhaenyra rides Alicent well, pushing her towards the brink of yet another climax all while chasing her own orgasm. They clutch at each other and murmur sweet nothings, losing themselves in the private world they have created. Alicent finally allows her hands to roam freely, caressing the curve of Rhaenyra’s spine, the swell of her breasts.

Rhaenyra finishes with a sound Alicent will be hearing in her neediest dreams for years to come, then collapses down on the bed beside her. Alicent embraces her, kissing that pale hair the way she might kiss a beloved friend.

Rhaenyra curls around her, as hot to the touch as a dragon.

Alicent holds her in her arms and fights back the tears.

Once Rhaenyra’s breathing has deepened and Alicent is sure she is asleep, the Queen whispers to the Princess,

“Things cannot be as they once were. I’m sorry.”

Alicent falls asleep with Rhaenyra in her arms.

She wakes up alone.

Rhaenyra’s clothes are gone, and so is the golden crown Alicent so reverentially removed the night before. Rhaenyra leaves no note, sends no messenger, but later that day, when the servants are making the bed, Alicent finds a piece of parchment tucked beneath the pillow.

It’s the page from the histories, depicting Nymeria, Queen of the Rhoynar. Folded and unfolded a hundred times by Alicent, in all the years she kept it.

Alicent waits until all the servants have left, then she presses the page to her lips and she cries.

#spilled ink #rhaenicent #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenyra x alicent #hotd #house of the dragon #fire and blood #asoiaf

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kcrclrezni · 1 year

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REPOST & LIST 6 SONGS THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE.

Oh Sailor - Mr Little Jeans And if you're tired of them, telling you what to do / I hope you know that you could sail right on / I hope you know you got the ocean blue

Broken Crown - Mumford & Sons So crawl on my belly 'til the sun goes down / I'll never wear your broken crown / I can take the road and I can fuck it all away / But in this twilight, our choices seal our fate

Promiseland - Mika I was born in that summer when the sun didn't shine / I was given the name that doesn't feel like it's mine / Lived my life as the good boy I was told I should be / Prayed every night to a religion that was chosen for me

Dear Fellow Traveler - Sea Wolf And I returned to my beautiful city / Black skies change into blue / And though my love is so wise and so pretty / Some nights I'll still dream of you

Go the Distance - Disney's Hercules I have often dreamed of a far off place / Where a hero's welcome would be waiting for me / Where the crowds would cheer, when they see my face / And a voice keeps saying this is where I'm meant to be

Eyes Open - Taylor Swift So here you are / Two steps ahead and stayin' on guard / Every lesson forms a new scar / They never thought you'd make it this far

& 6 QUOTES THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE.

“I hope you weren’t looking to me to be the voice of reason. I keep to a strict diet of ill-advised enthusiasm and heartfelt regret.”

“Anything worth doing always starts as a bad idea.”

“When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable."

"I like to have powerful enemies. Makes me feel important.”

“Because I am greedy for the sight of you. Because the prospect of facing this war, this loss, without you fills me with fear. Because I find I don’t want to fight for a future if I can’t find a way to make a future with you.”

“Nikolai had been told that hope was dangerous, had been warned of it many times. But he’d never believed that. Hope was the wind that came from nowhere to fill your sails and carry you home.”

tagged by: @crowshoots tagging: @w4ntd / @proditeur / @wornkindness / @heartrends / @criticalfai1ure / @korolevnas / @melnchly / @artisanals / and you!

#tag games #all those songs are bangers thank u very much #♔‘ﾟ‣ { about } — ❝ i like to bet on myself whenever i can ❞#♔‘ﾟ‣ { music } — ❝ an excellent dancer ❞

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hakuna-my-ass · 10 months

Text

Call me a bitch one more time

Maybe ill believe you

Call me a whore again

Maybe ill conceive you

Call me a slut to my face

Maybe ill believe you

Cause the way

I wade through the dirt

Is a pain

You cant see through

Call me your mom, call me your baby, call me your daughter

Call me whatever you want

I thank god im not your father

I would beat you, mistreat you, just like mine did

I wouldnt eat you, id leave you

To rot in your sins

Not here to please you, just deal you with the cards of your kin

Calling me your queen wont work cause bitch im a goddess

On the scene when i twerk

Cant help it im flawless

Tell me again how youre gonna cum all over my face

Show me again the way i feel pain

Tell me again about my ass and my titties

Like my uterus wasnt enough to give a buck fifty

Ya'll niggas iffy, filthy... long john? miss me!

Your bullshit squishy

According to the stars and the cards im a bull, hard headed

According to my pops, he's a dog, im hot headed

If i listened to any of you bitches id be mal tempered

I guess this is why rap was invented

Telling me i got legs for days when i got bills to pay dont distract me with your petty bullshit

I got brains for decades dont trash me ill behead you

Asking me for head? Youd rather be dead

Spitting on your grave, does that count?

Illy for years, been down south

Been in cuffs but i was rough before they tried to put me down

Like i cant fight, dont have might, i wear my horns like a fucking crown

Cause just like a bull i see red

But as a taurian i get paid diamonds, no respect

So tell me again how horny you are and how i make you

Show me again how you cum

And i may believe you

Born in May so its easy to distinguish sun from rain

All ya'll bitches run when you see me in pain

Cause my limit is about where my choker is

You helped me reach it so lets not forget i know how to choke a bitch

Like i said call me a bitch one more time

Call me dumb, ill show you whats mine

Cause none y'all have the stripes im covered in

Chinese eyes, my chinese sign starts roarin in this bitch

Y'all came straight outta hell

I came from something even lower

Learned and broke yall spells STOP FUCKING CALLING ME BROKEN

THIS BITCH IS BAD NO MAGICIAN COULD CLONE HER

They tried and failed not even the universe could own her

Put her in a ditch, shell make a pie and make you eat

Youll attempt to take everything

Fucking fakes nothing more than leeches

Got poems so old, damn i should start preachin

Cant say ive never been to church

The bible aint a secret

Y'all preaching to the choir

So i brought a choir just to sing this

Bring me down to the ground

I might believe you

Silencing me

Wicho irritating sounds

Yous a nuisance

Thinking yous all that?

But aint got time to prove it

GOD MADE ME BLIND BUT I SEE RIGHT THROUGH IT

The grass is greener where i smoke it

The waist got leaner

Now they tryna poach it

Taking credit for my successes, my strength, my will and why im the bestest

But i didnt see NONE of yall when I was in duress, hella stressed, just tryna make it out w me n mine

Yet over time i realised its just me and im mine

To make things CLEAR

Im not here to fall into your sextraps

Sextrolling while im rolling

Youre fucked cause i got strapped

Youve never seen a gem like me?

Thats common knowledge.

Oeh im so different?

Caught me yawning

Turned up the degrees to see where youre boiling

Dashed so fast couldnt even keep it a hunnid

Annoying. Disgusting.

As a vegetarian i dont eat meat

Why dfq do u think id wanna see yours when i open my feed

Yall aint got nothin better to do than to focus

On fucking

I got better shit and poo so i focus on commas

The only zeros im interested in are the ones on my bankaccount

I like danger and dangerous numbers that make me moan and shout

Not yo itty bitty dick wrapped up in clout

Next time you see me dont ask me how im doing cause good girls do it bad and bad girls do it badder and im the worst

Your sins cant make it better

ON GOD

Scratch that

Royal Deity

The unholiest chick with the most purity

Chique, fine and thick

But you wouldnt know bout nunna that

Intelligent, since we keepin it straight facts

Sharp shooter, never miss my aim

Even if i fail, still winnin this game

S/o to all the gamers, the players, the fakers

Addressin y'all as my main haters

Slapping my insecurities in my face

Like i might do somethin w it

Undress, heaving chest, make a mess in the kitchen

Callin me gay just cause yall aint got a pot to piss in

Mad pissed, yall blocked, try to mess with this bitch

On all fours like a horse come too close ill stomp ya face in

Insulting me vagée, she's not an animal, yall the pussies

Saying put it on my face

Like you got the right or earned it

Yall demands undeserving

High on supply i dont follow commands

Baby your stressed let me help you with that

Bitch please take a seat id rather do a handstand

Know your place before its too late and yo ass gets jabbed

Call me baby one more time i might believe it

Call me sweet once mlre and ill know youre deceivin

Call me your love, your honey, babycakes, babygirl

Havent been a baby since i entered this world

Tell me that you love me one more time and ill bust out my edges, limited edition blade collection

Jessica rabbit blasian

Blazing stages

Saying you wanna fuck

So i did

Sorry not sorry i fucked you up instead

Mustve been a slice of miscommunication

Over time i developed a bullshit translator

Not sick in the head, just sick of y'all

Planning me demise and downfall

Ik ben een lijdende leider, een overlevende strijder

Thats why i give myself errything i be wantin

Preparin myself for these scheming ass bitches that be hauntin

Mightve gotten startled in the past

But im badder and better so issa wrap

#song #rap #poem #poetry #lyrics

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gods-graveyard · 17 days

Text

LOOKING FOR BETA READERS-

MORE INFO BELOW

I get-

Beta read fic's

Give opinions on works (art/writing)

Propose plot ideas and get your vibe

Share theories on what you think will happen (gotta gauge if foreshadowing is working or if its too apparent)

You get-

Fic commissions

Fanart commissions

(Yes these can include other fandoms besides HP)

Spoilers to my shit

Return beta read/advice for your works (if you want of course)

Edit- FANDOMS INCLUDE HP Golden era Marauders/Skittles Batfam (Even MORE info below)

___________________________________________________________ Me asking for Betas, but make it a cat for emotional manipulation

MORE INFO-

My current works include-

"Ill Never Wear Your Broken Crown" Plot summary- Fix it AU w/ Slytherin Morally grey Harry trying to navigate the extended HP world and survive the constricting fate tied to "the boy who lived" Ships- Percy/Oliver/Marcus (ask about the rest due to spoilers) Length- Currently at 80k but planning to cover every book, realistically this will probably end up a stupidly long fic which is exactly why I want someone to bounce off of and keep track of all the strings im lining up. Need- Someone to bounce plot points off of, due to this being an AU a lot of canon is changing and while I have established a lot of change there are some things that remain murky and I would love help in ironing them out ahead of time

______________________________________________

"Rose covered Graves" Plot summary- The Rosier twins own a mortuary/funeral home. Barty is the son of the sherrif and decides to intern there as rebellion/an escape from his "fate" but of course falls in love. Lots of supernatural funky stuff and bending the laws of reality, and might lean very heavily into crime drama genre. Ships- Barty/Evan, James/Regulus, Remus/Sirius, Dorcas/Marlene and Pandora/Lily (Rosekiller and Jegulus being main while the rest are background) Length- Short fic for my standards so under 100k, for now im aiming at a max cap out of like 50 but knowing myself that might spiral Need- Keep track of ships make sure everyone gets their moment to shine and charecterization/foreshadow stays consistant rather than gimicky

SO YEAH- Trying to keep this vauge so the post isnt stupidly long but you can absolutely dm/comment asking for more info and im very open to negotiations depending on what you are down for!

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medicine-and-molly · 2 years

Text

CRAWL ON MY BELLY TILL THE SUN GOES DOWN ILL NEVER WEAR YOUR BROKEN CROWN I TOOK THE ROAD AND FUCKED IT ALL AWAY

#mumford and sons #broken crown #songs

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lovemesomesurveys · 2 years

Text

What is your Starbucks order? or any coffee shop order? (: A white chocolate mocha, a peppermint white chocolate mocha, caramel macchiato, and seasonal drinks. What is your dream vacation? A private beach resort where I can rent those nice beds and just lie out on the beach and have food and drinks brought to me, haha. Would you ever go on a game show? Which one? I reallyyyy doubt it, but if any I’d say Family Feud. What TV show character do you relate to most? Hmm. I don’t know. If you had to choose to be an animal, what would you be and why? A doggo. I could just chill, play, eat, and sleep, haha.

When was the last time you wore a dress/suit? Like 6 years ago. Have you ever been to Tennessee, USA? No. Do you prefer more mellow music or loud? Mellow. Do you get along well with your family? Yes. When was the last time you played in the snow, if ever? Like ten years ago. :( Are you clumsy? I have my moments. Does anyone you know have a birthday coming up soon? Me. Do you ever go bowling? Nah. It’s been well over a decade now since the last time I went bowling. I’ve only gone less than a handful of times, so it was never a big thing for me.

Have you ever worn a wig? Yes. I recently bought two in different colors. And I’ve worn wigs for Halloween costumes as well in the past. Do you enjoy musicals? Some. What shoes did you wear today? I didn’t wear any. Do you enjoy 60's music? Some, yeah. Do you know anyone who is a great drummer? No. Would you rather watch or play sports? Neither. Does your name have a meaning behind it? Stephanie means “to be crowned.” Do you have a certain brand you are very loyal to? Adidas. Are you too short for the sun visor in the car to work properly for you? Yes. Do you have a favorite planet? Earth is just fine for me. How often do you spend time on Bzoink? I’ve been getting majority of my surveys from there now. What did you last have to drink? Pepsi. What type of movies are you most amused by? I like romantic comedies. What is your sense of humor like? Like, punny, cheesy, dad-joke humor I guess. Are you materialistic? I like to splurge on some things, like my laptop and phone. I don’t care about fancy bags or clothes. My most expensive brand is Adidas, which is pricy and cool, but it’s not hundreds or thousands of dollars. Do you listen more with your heart, mind, or stomach? My emotions have taken control the past few years even though I knew better about some things logically. I just didn’t want to see or hear it. My fears and stubbornness clouded my decisions, unfortunately, and I’m really paying the price for it now. What are some thing that fascinate you? How certain things work or came to be, psychology, animals, etc. Do you suffer from any diseases? I have chronic illnesses and a few other health issues going on currently. Have you ever broken a bed? No. Have you ever worked in retail? No. What's the strangest food combination you've seen someone eat? I know I’ve seen some combos I thought were weird or gross, but I’m blanking at the moment. Do you pick up on others feelings easily? Yes. What is your current mood? Not doing well at the moment. Do you prefer shopping online or in store? Online for the most part. I’ve done a lot of it the past few years. What did you last remember dreaming about? Something weird and random as per usual. What's your favorite condiment? Ranch. What is the last thing you borrowed? My mom’s iPad, her headphones, and my brother’s laptop. When was the last time you took a group picture? I don’t recall. Name the first person who pops in your head whose name starts with T. My grandpa, Thomas. Is there a song or songs you can rap all the lyrics to? Yeah, several. Have you hugged anyone today? No. What did you last watch on TV? As for what I last watched on an actual TV it was Family Feud earlier, but I also watched The Bear on Hulu before that on my laptop and currently I’m watching YouTube videos. If your last words were the last message you received, what would they be? “Are you keeping this?” Ha, uh what an interesting thing to say. Are you good at keeping secrets? Yes. What last disappointed you? Myself. And with how some things are going currently. It’s like I’ll start to do better and then something happens and I’m set back. I don’t understand why this happening and it scares me. If you could see a concert of any celebrity who has passed away.. who would you like to see? I would love to see a Linkin Park concert with Chester. How many blankets do you own? Several. What was your favorite food as a child? Stuff like ramen, chicken nuggets, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, pizza, Lunchables, chips and other junk food. Do you like denim shorts? I don’t wear them. What was the last picture you looked at? One my mom sent me a bit ago of something in my room. She’s going through some stuff and asked if I wanted to keep it. What's the main thing you use the internet for? I spend the most amount of time on Tumblr and YouTube. I’ve also been using it a lot for my streaming services. How many questions do you prefer in a survey? I like at least 20-25. Longer than that is cool, too. If it’s more than 100 It doesn’t mean I won’t do it, I like those as well,but it might take me a little longer. I might space it out a bit. It just depends on my mood. Have you ever made someone cry unintentionally? Yes. Is it easy to offend you? No, I wouldn’t say that. When did you last wear a hat? A couple months ago. Do you work well under pressure? I’m a major procrastinator so I did a lot of my schoolwork under pressure and to be honest I didn’t well. Not that I’d recommend it. I put myself under so much unnecessary stress. What is something that is or was hard to let go of? I have a hard time letting go of a lot of things. What colors do you normally use to decorate with? Uhh, it really just depends what I’m decorating. Have you ever bruised one of your ribs? Yeah. Have you ever burned yourself on a candle? The tips of my hair when blowing out birthday candles once. :X It was put out quick and I didn’t lose any hair, but I was left scared and the smell of burnt hair lol. What is one of your toxic traits? My stubbornness. Have you ever found a skeleton while outside? Nooo. What time is it currently? 10:48PM. How many mirrors do you have in your bedroom? One. What is something you cannot get enough of? Beach trips.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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arickaandherfictionalothers · 2 months

Text

Stranger Hunger Games: The Reaping

(Aricka x Steve Harrington)

(Hawkins is Panem. Brenner is Snow. Jane gets reaped and Aricka volunteers.)

July 4th. 74 ADD.

I woke up early this morning. I never sleep well the night before the Reaping Ceremony. Nightmares plague my mind and I always end up waking before the rest of my family-

My adoptive father, Bob Newby, who took my siblings and I in when our real parents died from a sickness. He’s a kind man who does everything he can to provide for the five of us, but when you live in district 12 that isn’t always much.

My older by two years brother Jonathan. He works in the mines most days, Saturday being his one day off and even then he works part of the day at the smithy, making things for trade.

My twin siblings. Will is the older, who has an aptitude for the arts, always drawing on scrap paper with whatever broken crayons or colored pencils he can find. Jane is the youngest, the most innocent of us all. She’s deeply empathetic and has a talent for healing. She knows what herbs are best for any illness or injury and can help you feel better just by mixing up a tea.

And then there’s me. My name is Aricka Newby. I’m 16 years old, and this is my fifth time in the Reaping Bowl. But with the tesserae me and my brother sign up for; my name is in the bowl 80 times. So much for the odds being in my favor.

Anyway. As I’m already awake, I get dressed as quickly and quietly as possible and sneak out of the house, out past the meadow and through a small opening in the supposedly electric fence.

Now I’m free to think whatever I want, but only for a little while. I run to the hollow oak tree where my bow and arrows are stashed and check the snare lines for any game, and come up with a rabbit. My family could have a nice stew tonight for dinner.

I steal quietly through the forest, my dad having taught me to hunt when he was still alive, showing me how to be quiet as a whisper, not making a sound when I walk. I find some edible berries and nuts and store them in my bag, and to my luck I find some burdock and dandelions, which lead me to a patch of dock seed, and that is lucky because dock seed can be ground into flour; and if we add it to our grain ration we could have a more hearty bread.

And then, to my immense delight, I found ripe elderberries, Jane’s favorite. I could make a pie tonight after the ceremony to celebrate none of us being reaped and all of us being together.

All in all, I had a successful morning, as I made my way home, hiding my bow and arrows in the hollow oak tree and heading back to the fence.

Jon was waiting for me, like he always does. “You find anything?” He asks. I hand him my bag as I stand up, and he nods in approval. “Nice. We can work with this.” I grin and he wraps an arm around my shoulder. “It’s time to get ready. The ceremony is in two hours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Soon, I’m dressed in my mother’s only remaining dress- a soft blue thing, with capped sleeves and a flowing skirt. My hair is braided by Jane and pinned up off my neck, adorned with a single hairpin with a mockingjay on it. In turn I braid Jane’s hair in two fishtail braids, weaving them together and pinning them in a crown on her head. Jane is wearing one of my old white blouses that is still too big on her and a tan skirt with her brown boots. She looks impossibly small and innocent and I want to take her and run away from here. I can’t let my baby sister die in the Games.

I won’t let it happen. “I’m scared,” she whispered as she grabs my hand. “I don’t want to be chosen.”

“Janie it won’t happen,” I reassure her, hating that I’m not sure if I’m lying to her. “You only have one slip in there, the odds are in your favor.” She nods but leans her head against my shoulder like she’s five again. I press my hand against her neck and kiss her temple. “I won’t let anything happen to you Janie. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was Jane. They called her name. She- this shouldn’t be happening- but it is- NO.

I push past the crowd and make my way to Jane. “I VOLUNTEER-!” My voice is sure and steady despite my shaking hands. “I volunteer as tribute.” I reach for Jane and push her behind me; knowing instinctively that Jonnie would get her and take her to dad. She was crying and trying to protest, but the peacekeepers were already escorting me to the stairs.

Joyce Byers, the tribute escort for district 12, motions for me to stand by her with a motherly look on her face- I can’t stand to look at it. “I’ll bet anything that was your sister, wasn’t it dear?” She asks.

“Yes. My name is Aricka Newby,” I whispered into the microphone.

“Well; let’s give a big hand for your first volunteer, district 12!” Instead of clapping like she expected, I nearly cry as my district gives me the farewell salute- a three fingered one, after they kissed those very digits. I couldn’t help but return the gesture, wanting them to know I was proud to belong to them. “And now for the boys,” she said and goes over to the bowl where I know Jon’s name was in there 126 times. It’s his last reaping, I think desperately. Don’t let it be him. I can’t kill my own brother.

Joyce stands in front of the microphone. “The male tribute for district 12 is…” and she opens the piece of paper. She takes a deep breath and looks up. “Steve Harrington.”

I feel my heart drop into my stomach and back to my throat at the same time. Relief that it wasn’t Will or Jonathan- that Jonathan would never have to face the arena, that he was safe- filled me at the same time that dread filled my stomach. It had to be the one boy who I owed my life to.

He looks terrified as he is escorted by the same peacekeepers to the stage, where Joyce walks him over to stand in front of me. “Go on you two, shake hands,” she ushered.

Steve looks at me and I again find myself loosing my breath as I gaze into those soft, dark chocolate eyes. His hand is firm and sure and he squeezes- perhaps a form of reassurance?- and I can’t help but reciprocate. His lips twitch upwards and our hands drop but we don’t let go. He looks at me in confusion and I give him a desperate glance as if saying if he let go of my hand I might collapse right on the spot. He seems to understand and grips my hand tighter at this.

We walk into the justice hall together, until we are pushed into separate rooms for our goodbyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jane is the first one to run into the room, pressing her face into my shoulder. Will does the same thing on the other side, both my little sister and brother crying. “Shh,” I whispered. “Hey. I’m tough. I can do this. I’ll come back for you guys. I won’t leave you. Never ever.”

“Promise.” Jane’s fierce little voice sounded so weak in the moment.

“Promise us,” Will adds.

“I swear,” I whispered. I look at Jon and notice his eyes are red rimmed. “Jonnie, don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have volunteered for me or Jane. I chose to save Jane. You would’ve done it for Will.” He nods, and finally joins our group hug. “Don’t let them starve. You know how to use the same thing I do. Use it. Be smart. Be safe. I love you.” Bob stands by the door until my siblings have had a chance to each hug me and say goodbye.

I walk up to the man who I’ve called dad since I was six. “Thank you,” I said and hug him tightly.

“My girl…” he says, cupping the back of my head and squeezing me firmly. “I wish you were coming home tonight. But I’ve known since you came to stay with me you were a fighter. Now you just fight hard and come back, understand?”

“I will dad,” I whispered. “I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve and I meet at the back exit of the justice building and he offers me his hand once more. I’m not embarrassed to admit the offer comforted me so I willingly gave him my own hand. He grips it tightly and pulls me closer to him and gives the cameras a deadly look. We make our way to the train, Joyce leading the way as we board.

I’m immediately taken aback by the amount of food in the room before us. It’s enough to feed the entire district but it’s here for four of us. Steve and I share a look and he guides us- our hands still tightly clasped together- to the table. An attendant was there and Steve smiles politely at him. “Hi, my name is Steve and this is Aricka. Could you please make us protein shakes? With peanut butter and healthy carbs; and maybe some snacks with good nutritional value? Perhaps fresh fruit and veggies?” The question blows me away and I know it does the attendant, probably because we’re an outlying district and we usually don’t make it past the first day in the Games.

When he returns he asks, “Would you like me to take your request and give it to the chefs at the tribute training center? They would alter all your meals to be served with your request in mind.”

“Yes please- also we would like protein in our diet and foods that are high in energy,” Steve adds, taking both the plates and letting me grab the shakes as he answers. The attendant nods and leaves to fill our requests. I stare at Steve in wonder and he motions for me to sit beside him. “If we’re going to have even a remote shot at getting past the first day we need all the help we can get,” he says.

“You’re- you want an alliance- with me?” The idea didn’t seem so bad, Steve clearly knew what he was doing. He nods.

“I want you to come home to your family, I’ll do whatever it takes.” He grabs my hand and gives me a serious look. “I have a strategy I want to propose but I won’t force you into it.”

I’m intrigued. “Okay.”

“The capital just wants a good show. It’s just entertainment to them, as sick as it is. If we give them a romance- a tragic love story about two tributes in love forced into the arena- they will fight for us. They’ll want us to win.”

“… star crossed lovers?” I whisper. I understand the intrigue behind his idea. He nods.

“I won’t make you do anything. Say the word and I’ll drop the subject and it’ll be like it never happened.”

“No,” I say suddenly. Maybe if we do this we can both go back home, and I can keep the boy with the soft brown eyes. “I want to do this. I trust you.”

He nods and grips my hand. “Let’s see how good an actress you are, then.” And then Joyce enters.

Let the 74th Annual Hunger Games begin.

~~~~~~~

@astralshipper @rosieshipper @hyperionshipping @yeehawselfshipping @letsgofoletsgo @tsundere-selfship @callsign-revenge

#stranger hunger games AU #Aricka x Steve #Aricka x Steve h #good old fashioned lover boy

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