#let him go home a king and get warm by the fire in his home that he risked everything to protect

[stillalivebydemand893]

Too Many Nights

(hot)

An innocent spin the bottle game didn’t just break hearts,it blew the damn roof off.🤭

It was that time again,the annual Campbell Lake Trip, where brain cells go to die and dignity gets left in the driveway. Booze was stacked in the back of the Jeep, the aux was already plugged in, and Metro Boomin was hitting harder than your childhood trauma.

"LEEEET’S FUCKING GOOOOO!!" Julia howled with four different flavored vapes in her hand, puffing the clouds away .

"Bro, no. Don't smoke that banana ice garbage in my car," Erik groaned, already done with her. "I don’t want the backseat to smell like a tropical diaper for the next month."

You were on the hood of the Jeep, pre-gaming like it was the Olympics and vodka was your sport. Exams were DONE. Summer was HERE. Life was FUN.

"Do we have to leave Paco at home?" Bobby whined, stuffing bags in the trunk like a freshly divorced dad saying goodbye to his toddler. "What if Mom cooks him by mistake again?"

"You know in some countries, that’s considered a delicacy,” you giggled, throwing on your sunglasses already feeling the buzz.

“Get in the car, princess, or he’s gonna cry,” Erik chuckled, holding his hand out like the cocky bastard he was.

You jumped into his arms and oh hellooo??was it the booze, or did his hands linger just a little too long on your waist? Hot. Steamy. Illegal-in-some-states level hot.

“Damn, Campbell. Who made you king of this clown car?” you smirked, still nestled in his arms.

“Brat,” he grinned, letting you go with a tap on your ass as he turned to start the engine.

Your skin was on fire. But not like a rash,like, good fire. You’d crushed on Erik since the day you moved in next door four years ago,but you never said a word. The Campbells were your safe space. Your emotional support chaos crew.

“PEACH. AUX. PLAY CHARLI XCX,” Julia shrieked from the backseat already with a beer in her hand.You slid into the front seat.

“Hell no,” Erik said, smacking his hand over yours before you could grab the aux cord,like some kind of playlist police. He left his hand there, warm, dominant, suspiciously sexy.

“C’mon, Kiki,” you pleaded, batting your lashes like a Disney princess .

He lifted his hand only to grab your face and squish your cheeks. “I’ll drop your ass at the train station if you try that again.”

“COME ON, YOU JACKASS. Peach—show him your boobs!” Julia yelled with the subtlety of a car crash, now halfway through her second beer.

“WHAT?!” you and Erik yelped in unison, turning to look at each other in complete panic/horny confusion.

“Girl, do you even know how to manipulate a man?” Julia snorted.

You looked at Erik. Erik looked at the road, praying for strength .

You leaned over, mischief in your grin. “Fine. I’ll show you my boobs if you let me play whatever I want.”

He blinked. “Are you buffering?”

“HELLO??” you snapped.

“Deal,” he said way too fast. Then smirked. “Only if I get to pierce them.”

OH. OH. Devil? Is that you?

“You sneaky little motherfu-” you began, but let’s be real: having Erik Campbell pierce your nips was top 3 on your “do before death” list. “Deal,” you grinned.

“You guys are FREAKS,” Bobby sighed from the backseat, watching Paco on the home cam .

“You haven’t seen us yet,” Erik fired back, tossing a wink your way that had you considering sin.

Was this heaven? Was this hell? Who cares,you were on your way either way, with Charlie XCX on the aux and Erik’s devilish smirk burning holes in your soul.

After what felt like a six-year road trip powered solely by vape clouds and siblings figths you finally pulled up to the lake house.

The cousins were already down by the lake, beers in hand, making questionable playlist choices. A few of the Campbells' high school friends were pre-gaming hard on the porch like it was frat formal 2012.

“LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED, BITCHES!” Bobby screamed as he yeeted himself out of the Jeep .Turns out Julia had laced his protein shake with straight vodka. Again.

“Let’s LIT this party, Campbell,” you said, lighting a joint .

Erik put on his sunglasses, fist-bumped you like a bro with secrets, and boom: the party was officially unhinged.

You started floating through the crowd, saying hey to old faces and new bad ideas. Meanwhile, Erik was busy being charming,a little too charming,with his high school crush, freshly single, freshly annoying.

You’d heard that from Jules earlier and yeah… jealousy? It showed up like a clingy ex. You pretended you were chill. You were not chill.

To distract yourself from combusting, you grabbed their younger cousin and dragged him into the cabin to help with bags.

“C’mon, kiddo. You’re my emotional support now” you said, patting his back like a coach before the big game. It was his first invite ever, and he looked like he might cry from excitement,or fear. Same difference.

Then the sun went down, and the feral switch flipped.

Beer pong was raging. Teams were set. You and Erik vs. his crush and Bobby.

This was WAR.

“Don’t mess this up, Kiki. I’m already on my last brain cell,” you hissed at him.

He cracked his neck like a dramatic little shit. “Watch me, Peach. I’ve been training for this since the womb.”

He sank the last cup like a god. Victory.

“THAT’S MY BOY!!” you shouted, making eye contact with the Barbie doll across the table and drinking in her passive-aggressive glare.

“Told ya,” Erik smirked.

You ruffled his hair and swore you saw him blush,but it could’ve been the booze… or the emotional whiplash. Unclear.

“Victory piggyback. Pay up,” you demanded.

He crouched, and you jumped on like it was your Roman chariot. Legs around his waist. Arms around his neck. Dangerously close. Questionable choices? Activated.

He was laughing. You were swaying.

“Easy, princess. You’re gonna get us both killed,” he giggled, tipsy as hell.

You kissed his cheek. Just a quick peck.

Then froze.

What. The. Actual-

His ears turned bright red. You stared. He stared back.

You panicked.

So naturally… you did it again.

This time, slower.

“Why are you so cute all of a sudden?” you whispered into his ear .

He turned his head, and that SMIRK? That cocky, I-know-what-you-want smirk?

“Now I’m cute?” he said. “Wasn’t I a loser ten minutes ago?”

“You still are,” you whispered. “But you’re my loser.”

He groaned. Not fake. Not joking. Like he was actively fighting off a decision that would ruin both your lives in the hottest way.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Before you could say “then die madly in love”, Julia screamed from the backyard like a drunk war general.

“SPIN THE BOTTLE IS HAPPENING! IF YOU'RE NOT KISSING STRANGERS IN FIVE MINUTES, YOU’RE DEAD TO ME!”

Erik looked at you. You looked at him.

And just like that,you both knew.

Tonight was about to get so, so illegal.

Everyone crowded into the living room like horny sardines. Half the room was sitting on the floor. The other half? Already tipsy, already yelling, already one dare away from getting banned from family events.

Julia had somehow turned spin-the-bottle into a spectator sport.

Rules? None. Boundaries? Absolutely not.

The bottle spun in the center like it had a personal vendetta.

You sat next to Erik, still riding the high of your piggyback-kiss stunt, until Julia clapped and screamed:

“ALRIGHT, WHO WANTS TO TRAUMA BOND?”

First spin. Chaos. Second spin. A dare that may or may not have resulted in someone licking sunscreen off a cousin's abs. Third spin? Erik’s turn.

You were sitting pretty, thinking:

“No way fate’s that evil. No way it lands on her.”

It landed on her.

The blonde. The crush. The Barbie bitch.

His high school dream with the waist of a Coke bottle and the face of a girl who cries in a cute way.

You laughed it off. Totally chill. Not even bothered. (You were so bothered.)

“Go on, lover boy,” Julia grinned, already filming. “Seal your middle school fantasy.”

Erik blinked. Looked at you. Looked at her.

Then,he kissed her.

You saw red.

Like, actual fire-nation attack red.

It was a short kiss. Innocent, maybe.

But not to you. Oh no.

To you, it was a declaration of WAR.

And the bottle? Oh, the bottle KNEW.

Next spin? Yours.

It landed right. Back. On. Erik.

The room lost it.

Everyone was screaming. Julia dropped her vape. Bobby yelled, “OOOOH NOOOO” like it was the Super Bowl.

You looked at Erik. He looked at you. There was tension. No, it was heat. The room could’ve been on fire and you would’ve blamed it on whatever was happening between your legs.

“You gonna kiss me, Peach?” he smirked, clearly thinking he was winning.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said.

And then you kissed him.

No,you made out with him. Right there. In front of everyone.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a public service announcement.

It was a “that kiss with Barbie meant nothing and this means everything” kind of kiss.

Your hands in his hair. His arms locked around your waist.

Your bodies pressed together like the only air left was in each other's mouths.

People were screaming. Julia was waving a beach towel like a flag. Bobby was filming and chanting “SPIN THAT TONGUE.” One of the cousins screamed, “IS THIS ALLOWED?!”

Erik groaned against your lips, pulled you closer, kissed you like he’d been starving for four summers and you were the last cold beer on earth.

You broke the kiss. Eventually. Maybe. (Time was fake.)

You looked at Barbie. She looked like she’d just witnessed a crime.

Good.

“Fuck me,” Erik breathed, completely dazed. “What the hell was that?”

You wiped your lip with your thumb. Smirked.

“That? That was me winning.”

The second your lips left Erik’s, the air shifted.

The room was still loud, people were still shouting,but it all felt muffled.You could still taste him. You could still feel his hands on your hips like they were claiming something.

And the worst part? The blonde was still watching.

You turned your head, slowly. She looked like she wanted to hang you. Good. She should.

But the second Erik stepped back, just a little,just enough,a knot twisted in your stomach.

Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

That kiss? It was a dare. A joke. A game.

Except it wasn’t.

And the way Erik looked at you now,like he was still trying to figure out what the hell just happened,made it worse.

You shoved past him, beer still in your hand, walking toward the kitchen like you weren’t seconds away from combusting.

“Peach-”

You didn’t stop.

He followed. Of course he did.

“What was that?You fucking kissed me like you meant it,” he said behind you, voice low, tight.

You slammed your beer on the counter, spun around.

“You kissed her first.”

“Because I didn’t have a choice-!”

“No,” you snapped, stepping closer, “you wanted to. Don’t play dumb, Erik. She was your dream girl in high school, right? So congratulations. You got your kiss.”

He stared at you, breathing hard. “She’s not my dream girl anymore Peach.And it felt like nothing.”

You blinked.

“What?” you whispered.

He stepped closer. “You wanna know what that kiss with her felt like? Nothing. I felt nothing. And then you looked at me like you hated me. And then you kissed me and I haven’t been able to think straight for a goddamn second.”

You should’ve walked away. You should’ve said something smart. But you didn’t.

You grabbed his shirt, pulled him in, and kissed him like you were punishing him.

You didn’t even care anymore. Not about the people. Not about his blonde high school crush watching from the living room. Not about the fact that this was supposed to be a dumb game and a joke.

No.

You were past the point of caring.

You wanted him to feel what you felt-

That heat. That ache. That jealous, angry, horny madness burning you alive from the inside out.

Erik grabbed your hips like he owned them. Like he’d waited years to touch you like this. You kissed him like you were punishing him for making you wait.

He bit your bottom lip.

You gasped.

Your hands fisted in his shirt.

He pulled your legs up, hooked it around his hips.

And you nearly lost it.

“This is so bad,” you breathed against his mouth.

“Yeah?,” he growled. “So stop me.”

You didn’t.

You devoured him. Kissed him like revenge. Like hunger. Like the only way to kill the feeling was to climb inside his skin.

He picked you up like it was nothing,and sat you on the counter like it was his kitchen and his rules.

You moaned into his mouth. He swallowed it.

“Still jealous?” he whispered, lips dragging across your jaw.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back just enough to look him in the eyes.

“You think this is about her?” you hissed. “I’m not jealous, Erik. I’m obsessed.”

His breath caught. His fingers dug into your thighs. You felt everything,every inch of him pressed between your legs.

“Fuck,” he muttered, forehead against yours, voice wrecked. “Say that again.”

You kissed him instead. Sloppier. Hungrier. He groaned so deep it vibrated through your whole body.

Your lips moved to his neck. You bit.

He hissed.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he gasped.

You smirked, licking the bite.

“Then die on your knees.”

He groaned, buried his face in your neck, hands everywhere now,spine, ribs, under your shirt, up your sides like he wanted to learn you by touch.

You only stopped when Bobby walked into the kitchen, froze, and just muttered:

“I’m gonna go eat rocks outside.”

Except Erik, who didn’t even lift his head from your neck. He just muttered, deadpan, “Lock the damn door next time.”

You bit back a laugh, still drunk on adrenaline, lips swollen, heart racing. You looked Bobby dead in the eye.

“Good. Chew slow.”

He backed out of the kitchen like he saw Satan himself.

You finally peeled yourself off Erik, skin buzzing, brain short-circuited.

“Okay,” you said, straightening your top like it mattered. “That… escalated.”

He stepped back just enough to let you breathe but kept one hand on your waist like he wasn’t done with you.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low, eyes dark. “And we’re not even close to finished.”

Your stomach flipped.

He kissed your cheek. Innocent. Dangerous. Deadly.

“Room. Ten minutes. If you’re not there, I’m coming to get you.”

He didn’t wait for a reply.

He just walked off, shoulders tense, jaw clenched.

You blinked. Exhaled. Tried to fix your lip gloss, but your hands were shaking.

Part 2 my loves?🤭

[aemondtargaryengf]

hii! i hope you’re doing well!!

can i get a jace fic where she’s his younger sister and she’s just really dependent on him, and like follows his around and tried to stay w him while he’s really protective of her especially from the greens

pairings: protective!jace x valeryon(strong)!reader

warnings: not quite angst unless the last line. but the tension is there, fluff i suppose, romantic tension, canon typical incest. if anything else let me know, MAJOR SPOILER FOR FIRE & BLOOD/FUTURE HOTD

word count: 1.8k <3

masterlist

a/n: I am sorry i have been tardy with my promise but here is your much awaited request!!

You liked it here. Laying in bed, reading a book of poems while your mother combed through your hair. Rhaenyra always had a soft spot for her only daughter, caving in and allowing every reasonable whim you had. “Mother” you speak slowly, putting the book down and holding it close to your chest. Rhaenyra stops her gentle movement, looking down at you with fondness, “yes my child”?

“Can we stay here in king’s landing for longer?” you ask, “I do not wish to leave grandsire’s side yet. The maesters do not bring news of improvement any longer and I fear….” You trail off not wanting to word it out loud. Rhaenyra knew of the gravity of her father’s health but she feared the wedge between her children and her half siblings will only give rise to new fights and arguments every day.

“You know we can’t my dove”, she pets your head affectionately, “who will look after Dragonstone with us gone?”

“Please”, you request sitting up and turning your back to face her, “I do not want to risk not being here when he passes away and miss my chance at a last good bye.” Even Rhaenyra couldn’t argue with your words. Your request comes from a place of adoration for your grandfather, he was quite fond of his elder granddaughter, but Rhaenyra also contemplated what can go wrong if she isn’t here for her father’s death. No matter the legitimacy of her being named heir to the throne, she is well aware of the whispers at court, the scheming of the hand and the queen. Aegon Targaryen cannot be king if she is here to take control of the situation.

“It’s settled then” Rhaenyra agrees after a beat of silence. “We shall stay here for as long as you desire.” A smile of gratitude makes its way on your face at your mother’s words and you are quick to embrace her “Thank you mother”. Rhaenyra chuckles, rubbing soothing circles on your back “Now rest my dove, it has been a hectic day.” She leans in to kiss your forehead “sweet dreams”.

You make your way beneath the sheets, head resting comfortably on the pillow “Farewell mother”. With one last look at you Rhaenyra steps out of the room. The door closes softly behind her, letting the dim glow from the candles lull you into sleep.

Morning arrives gently, with sunshine streaming through the windows casting a soft glow in your room. The ladies assigned for your care had let themselves in, rousing you from your sleep and ushering you to the bath to get ready for the day.

The baths at King’s Landing were more majestic than back home. You take your time soaking in the warm water with jasmine oil and rose petals, sighing in pleasure. It didn’t take long for you to get dressed with the help of the ladies and having your breakfast alone, opting for some calm in the morning knowing your brothers and uncles will inevitably destroy any sense of peace in the coming hours.

“I’d like to take a stroll through the keep, alone. Much has changed since I’ve been away.” The guard assigned for your duty only nods at your command as you make your way out of the room. The seven-pointed star glares at your face at every turn you make, a stark contrast to the regal décor the keep had in your childhood.

“Sister! Wait!” comes a voice from your right. You stop turning around only to be faced with a panting Jacaerys. “Brother” you greet with a slight smile “You are up early today” you tease. “I was looking for you” says Jacaerys, ignoring your teasing. “I was wondering if you were alright after last night’s events”.

You slightly wince at the memory of Jace throwing a punch at Aemond and Aegon and Luce starting a brawl of their own. Your cousin Baela even tried jumping only for you to grab her by the waist as you yelled for them to stop.

“I’m alright” you dismiss his worries. “It was just a graze”. Aemond’s elbow had hit you in the cheek causing you to yelp in pain. Aemond’s actions did stop midway not expecting you to be so near and get hurt but it only spurred Jace even more as he landed even stronger punches than before at his uncle’s jaw.

Jace gently reaches a hand up to caress your face. “Its good it didn’t bruise” he thumbs at your cheek, “I’d not let it go if that brute ruined your pretty face”. And there it was again. Jace always had a penchant for using certain choice of words which reddened your face.

“Jace” you warn, “Do not fall prey to our uncle’s provoking. You know both of them only say words to rile us up.” Jace let’s go off your face sighing “I can’t help it if they accuse us of…” Accuse us of what? The Truth?

The somber tone in his voice lets you know of his mood dropping. It was only the start of the day and you will be damned if you let your older brother sulk so early. “I’d like to accompany you to your training if that’s alright with you?” Nothing makes him happier than being able to show off his skills to his younger sister and you are well aware of that. Jace is quick to look at you with shining eyes and agrees to your request.

You follow after him as he excitedly tells you of a new method he learnt from Daemon, smiling at his words and nodding when you think its appropriate to let him know you are attentive. Jace liked having your sole attention on him. It was just you and him in the beginning. His mother told him that the first time he saw you when he was a boy of two, you had looked at him as if he hung the moon and the stars in the night sky. Your crying would only stop if your older brother was there to shush you with his toys. You were the happiest baby when in his presence, trailing behind him like a little duckling, a trait which you still carry. Nothing soothes your nerves like being near Jace.

You watch as Jace spars with a squire. A sheen of sweat on his forehead making him look godly in the late morning sun. “I do not think its fit for a lady to be here niece” comes a chilling voice from right behind you, closer than you’d like that voice to be. “Uncle” you greet, your eyes not wavering from Jace at all, “I think I can go wherever I’d like. The Red Keep is my home as well after all.” Aemond smirks at your reply. Out of all the strong bastards you were his favourite to toy with. The boys were quick to throw punches but the ability to sometimes make you unable to come with a witty response brought him immense satisfaction.

“Hmm” he hums, coming to stand by your side, a little too close for comfort, “I hope my elbow didn’t cause you any harm princess. It would be unfortunate to see your brown eyes blacken from my unintentional hit.” Brown eyes. He emphasized it. He is trying to make you take the bait again. And his backhanded words of comfort and presence did unnerve you more than you’d like to admit.

“If you wish to see how real men train perhaps you should watch me instead of your no good of a brother. He moves like a boy who was gifted a sword a day ago” Aemond whispers in your ear. His breath hitting your skin makes your skin crawl and you shiver in disgust, moving back and putting a distance between yourself. “No thank you” you decline politely. “I prefer my brother over all”. Aemond only gives a sly grin at that, “Even in your bed?” he mocks.

What was stopping you from slapping this bastard from even suggesting such nonsense. You grit your teeth in frustration, almost hitting him yourself when a protective arm wraps around your waist bringing you back into a sturdy chest. “Who my sister brings into her bed is none of your concern dearest uncle” Jace says cooly. “And I suggest you refrain from using certain phrases that will bring the honor of my sister into question” he raises his brows at Aemond challenging him. “I’d hate to dislocate your jaw over some misunderstanding, we are family after all.”

One thing Aemond had learned from the beginning was Jace will never lose a chance to be your protective guard dog. He could hit two birds with one stone by simply choosing to pick on you instead. Why rile up one Strong bastard when you can rile up two? “I’d like to see you try” Aemond grins leaning in to challenge your brother.

“Jace” you whisper, “Don’t.” Aemond chuckles at your warning. “Aww will poor Prince Jace listen to his sister like an obedient mutt?” Jace clenches his jaw at his statement. “He isn’t worth it Jace” you interlock your fingers with Jacaerys’s trying to tug him away. Once you are able to move him from his spot, you lead Jace away and turn to Aemond to give him a disgusting sneer “You’re pathetic.”

Aemond's grin widens, his eye gleaming with amusement as he watches you walk away, Jace's hand still in yours. "Run along, little dove," he calls out mockingly, but you don't look back.

As you and Jace walk through the courtyard, the tension slowly eases from his shoulders. "You shouldn't let him get to you," you whisper, glancing up at him with a reassuring smile. "He only seeks to provoke."

Jace nods, but his grip on your waist tightens protectively. "I won't let him hurt you," he promises, his voice low and determined. "Not ever." You squeeze his hand, drawing strength from his presence. "I know, Jace. I know." You kiss his cheek gently hoping to calm him “No one can hurt me with you breathing down my neck” you giggle trying to lighten the mood.

He rests his chin on top of your head. “I won’t let any harm come to you ever. No one can hurt you.” His arms squeeze around your waist.

You always felt restless without Jace, and nothing brought you more comfort than being in his arms. You never have to worry about being safe with your brother around.

But years later when you crumble at the sight of the body of Jacaerys Velaryon with an arrow through his neck, no one is prepared for the wail of anguish that leaves your throat at not having your Jacaerys beside you anymore.

[sunraies]

Rafe x Sleepy! Reader where he freaks out that she’s not answering her Phone and thinks The worst scenario that she’s sick of him, cheating etc. But It gets better when she calls him while he’s with The boys and she’s in her pj’s telling him she just woke up and asking what happened that made him call so many times 🥹

Sleepy baby

As requested above

Warnings - insecurities, toxic thoughts, drug use, drinking, and mentions of sex. Ending fluff.

*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*

16 hours ago, you posted to your insta story. 16 hours since you'd been laughing, smiling, singing, and dancing into the camera. Music pumping and disco lights blazing as you partied into the night.

You looked so happy, surrounded by your college friends. Some he knew, and some he didn't. He wished he could have been there with you. Long distance was slowly killing him, he was sure of it.

Although he'd been uneasy about you going so far away, things had been working out. He visited as often as he could, and you came home for the holidays. But it was moments like this when he started to doubt it all. His mind would spiral.

At first, he thought there was a reasonable explanation for you not texting him when you made it home and for not responding to his messages. You were probably to tired and drunk, simply forgotten.

But as the hours ticked by and multiple messages and phone calls later, his mind began to wander to darker places. You didn't need him anymore. You had finally realised it. You had found someone else. Someone else had found you.

You were a college student, you didn't need some hometown boyfriend dragging you down, you had finally decided to live your best life. Without him. Party, sex and drugs.

Well, two could play at that game. The moment Topper had told him about a party happening, he immediately said he would go. Fuck it, he was still the Kook King, he knew how to party, how to have any person he wanted.

The problem was that you were the only person he wanted. After a few drinks, he found himself where he normally ended up at parties. Sat with his boys, Topper, Kelce, and Barry, nursing a beer, smoking a blunt, doing a few lines, and glazing into the fire pit as the sky of endless stars shone above them.

"Bro, that's like the billionth time you checked your phone." Topper pointed out as Rafe pulled his phone out of his shorts pocket again.

"What's up, Little Miss Havard ghosting you?" Barry teased as he through arm an over Rafe's shoulders.

"Fuck off" Rafe tried to shake his arm off before sighing as looked at his phone again.

All that stared back at him was you as his lock screen and a couple of notifications, but none from you.

"Oh, shit. You really think she is?" Barry's smirk dropped, suddenly noticing his friend genuinely down about something.

"She's probably just busy," Kelce tried to reassure him. "You know with essays and shit. I mean, I have a shit ton, and that's just online"

Out of everyone in their little friend circle, you were the only one who moved the furthest away. Topper was on a gap year, Kelce was doing online courses, Barry was dealing, and Rafe had to follow in Ward's footsteps. A few of your friends did gap years.

Rafe nodded slowly. "What if, what if she's do -" He didn't finish his sentence as his phone screen suddenly lit up. 'FACETIME - Baby 😍 💍'

He nearly dropped his phone in the panic of answering it. For a spilt second, he thought about letting it ring out of spite. You'd not answered any of his. But he couldn't do it, for all the spiralling his mind had been doing. He needed to talk to you.

"Rafe, hey, you ok?" You looked so sleepy as you rubbed your eye. "I'm so sorry, I've been asleep all day"

If he could have jumped into the screen and kissed you in that moment, he would have. You looked so adorable, hair in a mess, no makeup, clearly sat in your dorm room bed as he recognised the bed sheets and the tapestry on the wall behind you.

What made his heart warm the most was that you were in one of his t-shirts. One of many you had borrowed/stolen.

He knew he was smiling at his screen like a complete goof. But he didn't care.

"Where are you?" You asked, trying to work out the noises around him and odd lighting of the fire pit. "Why did you call so much? Everything ok?" You asked, concerned.

"Everything's good, baby," He smiled. "Just at a party with the boys." He turned the phone around to show them

"God, Rafe, no don-" Too late, there you was in all you sleepiness. Proudly held up on his phone screen.

"Mrs Country Club!" Barry greeted as the others said "yo" and "hey"

You awkwardly waved and smiled as your cheeks burned before Rafe turned the phone back him.

"Well, I better not keep you from the party. As long as everything is ok?" You could tell something wasn't quite right, but didn't push it. He'd tell you in his own time. He always did.

"Everything is fine, my sleepy baby." He smiled, not giving a shit if the others heard.

"Alright, see you this weekend? Facetime tomorrow?" You smiled as he nodded before saying I love yous.

"Aww, my sleepy baby. Sleepy bab-" Barry teased before Rafe pushed him. Causing his chair to topple backwards onto the grass. Making everyone who witnessed laugh.

He glanced at his phone one last time, seeing you smiling face on his lock screen and new message 'Baby 😍💍 - I really do love you ❤️😘'

[airybcby]

જ⁀✦ you will love me until you resent me

( barou shoei x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — who do you think i am? not posting a barou fic? PSHHHH

♡ word count — 1.9k

♡ content — shoei barou x fem! reader, established relationship (11ish years), emotional distance, barou loves soccer more, good communication (SEE I CAN WRITE IT), mention of marriage, set it where barou plays with the ubers still, have reader & barou at age like 25, high school sweethearts

♡ synopsis — Loving Barou Shoei was really a waiting game. And waiting was a game you were getting tired of playing.

── .✦ i hate to look at your face and know that we're feeling different

You’ve spent the last eleven years waiting.

You’ve waited through rain on metal bleachers, in the sticky heat of summer practice camps, on cold winter nights when he trained past midnight. 

You waited when he wasn’t home from Blue Lock right away. 

Waited while he fought tooth and nail for relevance on a field that never let him rest. 

You waited while he proved the world wrong.

And he did. Shoei Barou became the King. 

At twenty-five, he plays professionally for Ubers in Italy, one of the most feared strikers in the league. 

You see him on billboards, in sports magazines, highlights edited with fire and crown filters by rabid fans online. 

There’s even a mural of him near your apartment — blood-red eyes and that infamous sneer painted across three floors of brick.

Everyone says he’s untouchable. A monster. A selfish teammate.

But they don’t know the way he used to hold your pinky under the table in high school because he was too proud for public affection but couldn’t stop touching you. 

They don’t know he cried when he didn’t get selected for a regional tournament when you were sixteen, burying his face in your hoodie. 

They don’t know he kissed you in the school gym during golden hour and whispered, “Ya don’t wait for me. I’m gonna be somebody, y’know.”

You laughed then. “I’ll wait anyway.”

That was your first mistake.

You sit at a candlelit table for two in a tucked-away restaurant. 

Your dress is black, simple, a little too formal for the quiet place, but you wore it because he said he wanted to do something nice. 

Just us. Like before he texted.

That was three hours ago.

The waiters are polite, pitying. They stop asking after the second hour. 

The food is packed for takeaway. You tip well. 

You smile and say, “He probably got caught up with training. He works really hard.”

You walk home alone, heels clicking like accusations.

You’ve smiled through more engagement parties than you can count. 

Your friends, one by one, entering new chapters of their lives — rings glinting under warm lights, arms looped around their beaming fiancés. 

Always, someone asks the same question:

“So when are you and Barou getting married?”

And always, you answer with what you’ve been told a thousand times:

“When he’s done with soccer.”

The room laughs, someone clinks a glass, and you smile like it doesn’t burn going down. But inside, you know the truth.

Barou Shoei will never be done with soccer.

There’s an old medical form in your bag. 

One of those standard things — name, DOB, marital status, emergency contact. 

You paused at the top of the page longer than you should have.

Single

Your empty finger mocks you as you check the box. 

There’s not a space for long term relationships that don’t know when they’re going to get the dream wedding one of them has always talked about.

Emergency Contact: Mother

It hurt more than it should’ve. 

Especially when you remembered his promise from two months ago: “I’ll come with you to your appointment, I swear.”

He didn’t even text that he couldn’t make it.

Just silence.

You learn to cook things that don’t burn easily. 

Rice with a timer. 

Slow-cooked dishes you can reheat when he doesn’t show. 

You’ve watched water burn waiting for him — and that’s not even a joke. 

You’ve waited with twenty-episode marathons. 

Waited with your makeup done and heels by the door. 

Waited in silence, in pajamas, in tears, in anger.

You are a master of waiting.

You once joked that waiting for Barou was like being in a long-distance relationship with someone who sleeps six inches away from you.

He didn’t laugh.

He comes home late most days. Not late like midnight sneak-ins. No — late like you’re already in bed, but not asleep, listening to the front door creak open and close again. 

You keep the lights on in the kitchen just in case.

He eats standing. Sometimes, he doesn’t eat at all.

You try to ask about his day.

He grunts, distracted.

You ask how practice went.

He nods.

You say you missed him.

He doesn’t respond.

You’ve memorized the pattern of his protein shake routine. The whir of the blender. The clunk of the bottle against the counter. The splash of the shower. The sound of him brushing his teeth. Always without a word.

He doesn’t look at you in the mornings anymore. You wonder when that started.

“I think we’re drifting,” you say one night, voice low.

Barou’s sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his training pants, hair damp, scrolling through videos of his last match.

He pauses.

“Don’t start.”

Don’t start.

Like your loneliness is a false alarm. Like your hurt is a habit he doesn’t want to deal with. You open your mouth, but he’s already pressing play again.

You turn away.

You tell yourself you are strong. 

That you are better than this gnawing ache, better than this life you’ve been holding up on your own shoulders while he shines under stadium lights.

But you feel it — something inside you rotting slowly, resentment blooming where love once lived.

You’ve defended him through everything. 

Every media headline that called him arrogant. Every friend that asked how you could possibly deal with his ego. 

You’ve stood by when they called him selfish, told yourself that he just loves the game more than most people do.

But sometimes, you think he loves the game more than he loves you.

And you don’t know what’s worse — the thought that he does… or the thought that maybe he always did.

One night, you try to talk again.

“Do you still love me?”

Barou blinks, caught off guard. He’s sitting on the couch, freshly showered, jaw tight, a match replaying on mute behind him.

His brows furrow. “What kind of question is that?”

“Oh it’s just…” you stumble over your words. “Just a silly trend I saw people doing!.”

You lie right through your teeth.

He looks at you like you’re crazy. “Of course I love you.”

You nod slowly. “I love you too, Sho.”

Silence.

You stand. You want him to stop you. You want him to say something, anything, that proves he sees you — that you’re not just some furniture in the apartment he comes home to. But he doesn’t.

So you walk into the bedroom alone.

He doesn’t follow.

You dream of a life where you are chosen.

Not just as a trophy at the end of a career, not just as a future promise when everything is “settled,” but as a priority. 

As someone worth dinner reservations. As someone worth showing up for.

Most wives of pro athletes say it’s lonely.

But at least their husbands look at them when they walk into a room.

You start going on walks. Long ones. 

The kind where you leave your phone behind. 

You sit in parks and watch strangers. 

You eat lunch by yourself in cafés and people-watch. Sometimes, you think someone will recognize you — Barou’s girlfriend. 

You’ve been in enough blurry paparazzi shots. 

He mentioned you in a post-game interview once. Said you were “solid.”

You think about that word a lot.

Solid.

Dependable.

Always there.

Like a rock he sharpens himself against.

The apartment was quiet again.

Barou had left his shoes by the door, bag slung against the hallway wall like always. You heard the shower running earlier — short, hot, the kind he liked when he was worn out. 

The lights in the kitchen were still off, though. You hadn’t moved from the couch.

He walked out into the living room with damp hair and sweatpants slung low on his hips, drying his face with a towel. 

No shirt. No apology. 

He never said sorry unless he meant it — and somehow, that made it worse.

You had made dinner. Again. You weren’t hungry anymore.

He sat down beside you like nothing had happened.

"They offered me the extension," he said, voice low, like he was trying not to sound too eager.

You exhaled slowly through your nose. "Of course they did."

Silence sat between you like a guest overstaying its welcome.

"I told them I needed to think about it."

That made you pause.

You turned your head toward him, brows pinched, unsure you heard him right. “You... told them you needed to think about it?”

Barou didn’t look at you. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, palms clasped tight between them.

You laughed, trying to push the edge out of your voice. “Oh, come on, Sho. You love soccer, it’s—”

“I love you too.”

It hit you like a brick to the ribs.

You smiled, but it came out wrong. “Yeah, I know, but—”

“And you just always look so sad.”

You froze.

He looked at you now. Really looked.

Your mouth parted slightly, and for the first time in a while, your expression cracked wide open.

You didn’t know what to say. 

Sad? Were you?

You couldn't remember the last time you were truly happy.

Or maybe you couldn’t remember the last time you weren’t sad.

Your voice was quiet when it came out. “I’ve loved you since we were fifteen, Shoei. I think I can wait a little longer.”

You wanted it to sound steady. Loyal. But you heard it — the tremble in your throat, the small break that betrayed you.

He frowned. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“Really, Sho. It’s okay. We’ll just... schedule stuff for when you’re not busy!”

That’s what you’d done for the last several seasons. Scheduled and rescheduled. Pushed birthdays and anniversaries to off-days that never came. 

Made dinner for two and ate alone while restaurant lights dimmed and waiters gave you polite smiles that almost hid the pity in their eyes.

It had never worked.

His jaw clenched. “We shouldn’t have to schedule.”

“And you shouldn’t have to give up soccer.”

“It’s soccer or you.”

Your gasp was sharp, sudden, like your body couldn’t stop it from escaping.

You stared at him. This man — tall, tired, sharp-eyed — who still looked so much like the boy who used to fall asleep with his head in your lap while you played with his hair. 

Who used to bike to your house in the rain just to hand you a crumpled love letter he didn’t have the guts to read out loud.

He breathed out like it hurt. “I don’t want that. You and soccer — you’re it for me.”

You blinked fast, but your eyes still stung.

“You’re not choosing,” you told him, more to reassure yourself than him. “You’re just... thinking.”

“I told them I needed until the end of the off-season. We can talk about it. Okay?”

You nodded. Your chest was tight. Your hands, clasped together, were cold despite the warmth of the room.

He reached over, tangled his fingers with yours — clumsy but trying — and it made you want to cry. 

Not because he was pulling away, but because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t.

And still... the moment felt like standing at the edge of something.

You used to think love would be enough.

Maybe it still could be.

But maybe... maybe love wasn’t just the waiting. Maybe it was also being seen.

And tonight, for the first time in months, you were.

So you leaned your head against his shoulder.

The television played quietly in the background, and outside, the city lights blinked like a heartbeat.

His thumb brushed slow circles over your knuckles. You didn’t know what would come next.

He still had a choice to make.

And so did you.

But for now, you sat there — in the space between all you’d been, and all you still could be — and held his hand like it meant something.

Because it did.

Because it always had.

you're damn right barou is the one guy i'll write happy stuff for!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

✦ tags ✦ @irethepotato ✦ @kiyy0mei ✦ @x3nafix ✦ @sugacor3 ✦ @ohagiyoo ✦ @virgothesimp ✦ @werfiedeii ✦ @chiieni ✦ @syleepy ✦ @academiq ✦ @peachysaki116 ✦ @manjirosanosgirlfriend ✦ @anqelkoz ✦ @silverwings920 ✦ join the taglist here !

⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[4ttack-ur-heart]

The Boss’s Heart

Chapter I: When Opportunity knocks

Summary: You’ve had enough of working for your slimy boss, but the bills need to be paid. Just before you give up all hope, a stranger comes in one night and paves a new way of opportunities for you.

Warnings: guns, horrible bosses, sexist behavior.

This is more of a prologue to get the ball rolling :) leave back any feedback you have

The streets lay desolate and cold, a biting chill hanging in the air, occasionally broken by the shadowy figures of drug addicts lurking in the corners. As you walk, your foot nudges a discarded soda can, sending it skittering across the slick pavement. The can clatters and rolls, glinting in the dim light, before finally bouncing off the jagged surface of a weathered brick wall.

Walking home from your job was never fun.

The seedy bar you worked at preferred keeping you during the closing shift. According to them, having a woman working would draw in people, which was true, but the place was still a dump. No amount of skin showing would have people lining up at the door for warm alcohol and unsalted peanuts.

The owner wasn’t a peach either. Mr. Norris was an older man in his sixties, with a bald head and a nasty attitude. When he wasn’t drinking the gross liquor, he was holed away in his office, finding out ways to cut corners with expenses, with a dry cigar hanging from his lips.

The bar, The Purgatory Lounge, used to be a pretty lively and popular place before Mr. Norris took it over. Norris bought out the previous owner after seeing the success and money it brought in, but his cheap tendencies eventually caught up to him. The place was falling apart, multiple staff members were let go, and the patrons went from everyday people to the lowest scum wandering the N109 Zone.

Fishing out the keys from your purse, you pushed open the creaky wooden door and shut it behind you.

Home sweet home.

Your home wasn’t terrible-ish? Eh, it was still a roof over your head. The space was a small one-bedroom apartment with the paint on the walls fading, cracked, and tinted yellow from the previous tenants who were smokers. The only pieces of furniture you had were a small armchair that had torn fabric and a table where you would eat your microwaveable meals. You wanted some little house plants, but unfortunately, natural lighting doesn't exist in the N109 zone. The bright white light flickers as you flip the switch and toe off your shoes.

After peeling yourself out of your work attire, you changed into some comfy pajamas and scrolled through job websites on your computer. The little inbox icon on the website’s toolbar remained empty no matter how many times you’ve refreshed the stupid page.

You have had dozens of interviews for different places, but there was always a reason they couldn’t hire you. The more popular bars in the city thought you didn’t have the look they were going for, which was just a nice way of saying you looked too poor.

Other places were looking for men to do the jobs, as a lot of them were too shady or labor-intensive for a ‘little thing like you.’

You were one paycheck away from being homeless at this point. Norris had cut your pay again, making you just a few cents above minimum wage, which was never enough to keep anyone financially stable. At least before his old ass bought the place, you could save a little bit of money before. Now, you’re counting pennies and being forced to decide if you want your heater on or the water.

Shutting your laptop in frustration, you made some instant noodles before heading to bed. As you lie underneath the covers, you toss and turn.

Maybe you’ll dream about being a princess again, living in your huge castle with a handsome prince beside you, your bellies full with a warm fire crackling across the large king-sized canopy bed.

Maybe tomorrow would be different.

But it never is. It’s always the same routine day in and day out. That's all it would ever be.

——

“Mr. Norris, you left before handing me my check yesterday.” You say calmly, but deep down you are fuming.

You were in the middle of making the customer in front of you a cocktail when Norris walked in. You could tell he tried to duck past you and head straight for his office, but you had bills to pay. The guy sitting on the stool in front of you looks between the two of you curiously.

Mr. Norris sighs heavily, tucking the folded-up newspaper under his sweaty sleeve. “Sorry, sweetheart. I lost track of time, we’re getting audited again and-”

“That’s okay.” You smile and pass the customer his drink after garnishing it with a mint leaf. “I’ll just come pick it up when my shift is over.”

“I don’t have your check, Y/n,” Norris says, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Then I should expect it cash then, right?” You look back at him with your head tilted. “Payday was yesterday, sir. Unless you’re going to pay my light bill, I need the money.”

Norris stays silent for a few moments before he rolls his eyes and waves his hand at you, not wanting to cause a scene in front of the only customer you’ve had in hours. “Come by my office before you leave.”

The office door closes behind him, and you roll your eyes at your cheap boss before turning to the gentleman in front of you. “Sorry about him, is there anything else I can get you?”

“No worries, Miss. I’d hate to work for a sleaze ball like him.” He sips his drink before making a sour face.

This guy isn’t dressed in stained sweats either, instead, he wears dark slacks and a grey dress shirt. He almost looks too normal to be in such a place. Maybe he just isn’t familiar with the area, perhaps?

“You want something that doesn’t taste like shit?” You place down the glass you were polishing and don’t even wait for the guy to answer before you duck under the counter and unlock the mini-fridge where Norris keeps his pricier alcohol. He forbids you and the other bartenders from selling it- it’s a special privilege for him only.

“Here.” The chilled amber liquid fills the glass halfway before you slide it over to him. “Sorry about that first one, I can only work with what I have.”

The guy takes a long sip of his whiskey and nods appreciatively. “Don’t worry about it…”

“Y/n,” you smile politely and hold your hand out to him.

“Apollo.”

“Cool name.” You comment and go back to polishing the glasses. Apollo seemed like a nice guy, and he looked to be in his thirties- and the best part is that you didn’t get the vibe that he was a pervert at all.

“Why you workin’ in this shithole, Y/n?” Apollo crosses his arms over the counter.

“Uh,” you drag out before shrugging your shoulders. “I can’t find another job. Trust me, I’d leave if I could. What about you, though? You look like you’re smart. What made you stop in here?”

The man lets out a chuckle. "My wife’s sister a few streets away, and I just finished up at work meeting. Thought I’d catch a drink before stepping into the chaos.”

“Yikes, that bad?”

“I love my wife… hate her sister. That chick is crazy.” Apollo throws the rest of his drink back and holds his glass out to you. “One more for the road?”

You nod and pour him another glass.

“Why are you hiding this stuff? This is some high-end shit.” Apollo asks.

“That’s the boss’s personal stash. I told him we’d make money off of it, but no, he knows the clientele that normally drop in. They deserve what we have, his words not mine.” You give him an awkward smile and raise your hands in defense.

“So why give it to me?”

Once again you shrug and dump out the bowls of untouched peanuts that were strewn across the bar. “You were nice to me. Actually wanted to have a conversation instead of asking if you could hit it.”

Your face turns bright red at your words. “Sorry, you’re like the first person I’ve had a conversation with all night.”

Apollo laughs again and waves it off. “Don’t worry about it, you’re fine.”

For the next twenty minutes, you two engage in small talk. Not a single customer walks in, so you begin to tidy up for the night.

As you wipe down the counters and straighten the liquor shelves, you find out Apollo manages a warehouse on the outskirts of town, he’s got a beautiful wife, and two small kids whom he’d do anything for. All in all, a pretty down-to-earth fella.

He asks why you haven’t found another job yet and you indulged him in your rotten luck with the shitty job market in this city.

Apollo throws back the rest of his whiskey before slapping a few bills on the counter.

Your eyes widen as you quickly count the amount in your head. “Oh no, that’s too much, I was just gonna charge you for the first drink, don’t worry-”

“Nah, take it. I have a feeling you won’t be getting your check after your shift.” Apollo frowns as he glances towards the closed door where Norris disappeared. “He better not see a cent of this, alright? Take the amount that you need for the shitty drink and pocket the rest. It’s a tip.”

You smile at him appreciatively. Normally, you wouldn’t be one for handouts- but money is money, and you have very little of it.

“Thanks, Apollo.”

“Anytime, and here.” He pulls out a business card from his wallet and places it on top of the cash.

“That’s my work address and phone number, call me or stop by when you’re ready to leave this place.”

You stood speechless as he offered one last wave, a smile on his lips. With a tug at his coat, he exits through the door. ——— By the end of your shift, you grab your jacket once the closing tasks are done. Hesitantly, you knock on Norris’s door.

“Come in, Y/n,” Norris says lowly.

Opening the door, the room reeks of his cigar smoke. Your eyes fall to the scattered papers surrounding his desk.

“Do you have my check, sir?”

Mr. Norris chuckles slightly before he wheezes and shifts into a coughing fit. He picks up the small waste bin that was overflowing with crumpled balls of paper and spits in it. Your mouth curls up in disgust at the sight.”

Do you know how much money that bottle costs?”

You stiffen at his words. “W-what bottle, sir?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, did you forget I have cameras in this shithole?” Mr. Norris stands up, and you clutch your jacket tighter as your anxiety builds up.

His hands are in his pockets as he casually walks over to you, but you keep your head up high.

“If I remember correctly… it costs much more than you can afford, right?”

You can feel your heart rate quicken and the blood rushing to your ears. “I don’t know, sir. It was only two glasses, and I told you if we sold that kind of liquor here, we’d have more customers.”

“Doesn’t matter what you think.” His tone is bitter.

“I’m the owner here, not you. Got that?” Norris turns around and takes a deep breath.

“Don’t worry, I’ll just hold your check as compensation.”

Your eyes widen, and you step forward in desperation. “No, you can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can. You stole from me. I can do whatever the hell I want and you’re lucky I don’t fire your little ass. Besides, I saw that stack of cash he gave you, that should cover your light bill, right?” Norris gives you a smile before gesturing you to the door.

“Mr. Norris-”

“The job market is pretty bad right now, isn’t it?” His words cut you off. “I would just hate to see you wind up on the streets selling yourself for a couple of bucks. No one wants to hire a little brat like you, so if you think about it, I’m technically saving you right now.”

You look at your boss in shock at his words. The whole situation makes you want to almost throw up.

He sits back down in his chair and waves a dismissive hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” — The harsh breeze stings your face as tears mercilessly roll down your face. At least you dared to wait until you left the building before you started crying. You were so done. With Norris, with that stupid bar, with having no money to survive. Everything.

You kept your head down as you walked home.

You just dared any mugger or criminal to try and mess with you right now. You had no real way of dealing with your frustration or anger besides a few tears here and there.

When you made it home, you didn’t even want to eat. Stripping to your underwear, you collapsed on top of your squeaky bed and cried.

———

You pulled the sleeves of your thin coat over your hands as if they would cover the nerves. The work address Apollo had given you took you to a warehouse hidden within the desolate city. It was rather shielded, much to your surprise. The walk was relatively creepy, too, passing by barren trees and chipped pavement that you only stumbled on once. Something screamed at you to forget about the job and head back home to your small apartment before being humiliated and taken advantage of by Norris at the bar. Your brain mulls over the possibility of you being kidnapped, trafficked, and killed, all before 7 a.m..

“Maybe I should've called him first," you wondered aloud as you finally made your way up to the rickety chain link fence surrounding the property. Various 'KEEP OUT' signs were strewn along the links.

The fence rattles, aggravating the creepy silence of the night. You can't help wince as the metal chains holding the gate clink loudly together.

"Damn it."

Locked.

You pulled the two gates apart with as much slack as the chains would allow and squeeze underneath the metal. The warehouse rests about half a mile from the fence with prickly shrubs and dirt patches littering the yard.

The large doors at the entrance are locked shut, much like the perimeter fence. Luckily, you were able to find a door cracked open by a small slat of wood around the corner.

The door creaks loudly as you open it, and you cringe at the noise and push it back against the peg gently.

Turning around, you're met face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. The silver metal gleams under the dim white lighting. Your body tenses, and a gasp escapes your lips as you freeze in shock. Instinctively, you raise your hands in a defensive gesture, your heart racing as you brace for what's to come.

"You have twenty seconds to explain who you are and why the fuck you're here." The man holding the gun demands. He stands taller than you with a bulkier build.

"S-Shit, I'm sorry! Don't shoot, don't shoot. Apollo gave me this address! Here, I have his card…" With trembling hands, you reach into your purse and pull out the crumpled business card Apollo had given you not twenty-four hours ago.

The man snatches it from you quickly, and his eyes skim over the small lettering before tossing the card to the ground. He grumbles something under his breath and grabs your bicep, making sure to keep the gun pointed at you. You don't dare utter another word; you can practically hear your gut telling you, 'I told you so.'

This is it. This is how you die.

Your feet move with his subconsciously, your shoes tapping against the metal floors with every step. The gun still taunts you as it's pressed rather snugly against your shoulder. Sweat beads down your neck, and suddenly your thin coat feels extremely hot.

The man drags you to a closed door and knocks rather aggressively.

A loud sigh is heard on the other side, and then you hear it- that familiar voice. "Come in, Will."

Will opens the door, and you're met with Apollo sitting casually on his desk and sipping on a cup of coffee. Instead of the slacks and the dress shirt he wore when you first met, Apollo was in a navy jumpsuit.

"Oh, hey!" He jumps off the desk with a grin that heavily conflicted with your traumatized expression. "I was hoping you'd finally leave that shitty bar. Good to see you again, kid."

"You know her?" Will asks.

Apollo nods and grabs the nose of the gun, pushing it away from your body. "Yes, I do. No need to scare her."

Will nods and holsters his gun, he looks at Apollo, who only gives him a nod before he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

"You alright there, Y/n?" His voice breaks you out of your stupor. It takes a second for his question to register in your head.

"Y-yeah. Just ya know, never had a gun pointed at me before."

Apollo nods and gestures for you to sit in the empty chair across from his desk. “Better here than by yourself on the street.”

You sit down and try to stop your hands from shaking so violently- instead, you clasp them together tightly in your lap.

"Can I get you some water or coffee?" He offers, and you shake your head. The silence is a bit awkward for a few moments as Apollo grabs some papers from a desk drawer.

Finally, you break the silence. "What exactly do you guys do here?"

"We distribute weapons." Apollo answers, keeping his gaze on the paperwork in his hands. That's it? No other details…?

"For who?"

Apollo's soft brown eyes meet yours, but they don't hold the same warmth as before—it's as if he was tentative to tell you.

"Onychinus."

Onychinus? That criminal gang you've only heard horrible rumors of from the streets? The same Onychinus that can make people disappear from multiple records in just a few seconds? That Onychinus?

"Oh."

"Is that a problem, Y/n?" He asks, setting down the papers in front of him.

"I just…" Don't know if I want to work for a gang.

“Onychinus isn't a gang," Apollo tells you as if he was trying to be reassuring. Shit, had you said that outloud? "We're the faction that controls the entirety of the N109 Zone."

You miraculously break out of your petrified trance and had to stifle a scoff. "Is that not what a gang is, though? I mean, you guys 'control' the city, and word on the street is that the N109 Zone is run by criminals."

"Look, Y/n, you didn't receive your check from that shitty boss of yours, am I right?" Apollo places down the papers and leans his head on his hand. His words reel you into check and you’re quick to shut your mouth and remember where you’re sitting.

Your only response is to nod.

"I know it seems scary here, but we look out for each other believe it or not. Especially the boss. He takes care of us so long as we follow through on our part. I mean, yeah, sometimes we need to put people in their place if they mess with us, but a lot of the guys here have families. I told you about my wife and my kids, too. Here," turning around breifly in his swivel chair, Apollo grabs a picture frame from atop the metal filing cabinets.

The photo captures a woman with short, tousled blonde hair that accentuates her dazzling blue eyes that sparkle with warmth and joy. Beside her are two children, the perfect blend of their parents' genetics. The smaller child, a girl with chubby cheeks and a playful smile, is nestled in her mother's embrace, radiating innocence and happiness. Meanwhile, the older child, a boy with tousled brown hair, wraps his arms around his mother from behind, flashing a carefree grin.

Your fingers trace around the edge of the frame as you contemplate your choices.

"So I'm gonna ask you, do you want the job or not?"

"…yes."

Apollo nods thoughtfully and turns the stack of papers around to face you. He leans in, the gentle clinking of his pen from his shirt pocket momentarily breaking the silence as he retrieves it. Your gaze glides over the printed words, scanning the dense paragraphs, until it lands on a substantial figure.

There, in bold contrast, the metal ballpoint of his pen hovers, tapping against the dollar sign as if emphasizing its significance. "That's what you can make your first year here, kid. If there are no problems, of course."

With wide eyes, you swallow hard and suddenly regret not taking him up on his offer for a drink earlier. Your dry lips part as if to say something, but before you can utter a word, Apollo interrupts.

"Full-time benefits, too. Paid vacation, uh, what else…" He clasps his hands behind his head and leans back into his chair.

There was no way this could be real, right? I mean, what job pays this well, offers benefits, and vacation, without you having to sell someone's organs on the black market? But, with this salary, you can move out of your small apartment, actually eat healthy meals, maybe even afford a nice car so you wouldn't have to walk everywhere.

"Apollo?"

"Hm?”

“I don't have to like- kill anyone, do I?"

"Do you know how to shoot a gun?"

"No."

"Then no." A grin spreads across his face. "We'll just have you start processing the orders and deliveries. No violence necessary, kid."

Well,

Oh, what the hell…

"When can I start?"

———

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment or send me an ask <3

[neospade]

FOR HER, ALWAYS

pairing- Knight!Portgas D.Ace x Knightness!Reader word count- 8k genre- angst with a little bit of fluff. synopsis- A knight’s duty is to protect, to serve, to fight without question. She has done so, standing at his side through war and bloodshed, her heart a silent casualty of devotion. But his heart has never been hers to hold. note- I hope this doesn't come off cringe to y'all;-; warnings- smut scene mentioned.

Inside the king’s palace, the air is warm with the smell of candles, spiced wine, and polished wood. The great hall is big and bright, with high wooden beams and stone walls covered in colorful tapestries. These tapestries show old battles and the symbols of the royal family. There is the sound of soft music from a bard playing the lute, mixed with the voices of nobles talking and laughing. At the end of the hall, the king sits on his great golden throne, wearing a red robe and a shining crown. His advisors and knights stand close, speaking in low voices about important matters.

You stand among the other knights, your armor cool and solid against your skin. The sound of conversation and the flicker of torchlight fill the great hall, but you remain focused. The weight of your sword at your side feels steady, familiar, as does the silence between you and the other knights. You’re used to the tension before a command, the anticipation of what’s to come. Yet, there is something missing. More like, someone missing. He was there, just not by your side.

Ace.

Growing up alongside Ace, your childhood was far from ordinary. The days were filled with training, lessons in swordplay, and the constant hum of preparation for the future. You both learned early on that survival meant being strong, both in mind and body.

The mornings began with the harsh clang of swords as weapons were forged in the blacksmith’s shop, the air thick with the smell of iron and fire. You would often race to the training grounds, where Ace was already waiting, his eyes focused, ready for the day’s drills.

“You’re late” he would say with a stern look. “Better late than never they say” you say, handing him his own bamboo stick. The sound of the sticks clashing, the thud of sparring bodies hitting the dirt—it became the rhythm of your youth.

You and Ace were rivals in the best sense of the word, constantly pushing each other to improve. There were no soft lessons here—every mistake was an opportunity to get better. Ace, ever the strategist, would always find a way to outmaneuver you, but you didn’t mind. You knew it was a game you both played to become what you two always dreamt of. Knights.

"Focus," he would say, his voice steady despite the intensity of the sparring. "You're too slow." You tightened your grip on your stick and lunged forward, but Ace easily deflected the strike, his bamboo stick knocking yours aside with practiced ease. He stepped back, giving you a moment to regroup.

"I’m trying, Ace. I—"

"No," he cut you off, his tone stern. "You’re not trying hard enough. You’re too weak." His gaze was unyielding, and the weight of his words hit you like a blow. "You need to be stronger, or you'll end up just like all the other women who stay at home, helpless, waiting for someone to protect them."

You flinched, the insult sharp against you. Ace stepped closer lowering to your eye level, his voice lowering but still filled with an edge.

"You don’t want to end up like that, do you?" he asked, his eyes piercing through you. "A filthy woman, sitting idle, depending on others to survive, being used as a baby machine. That’s not what you’re meant to be. You will be a knightness. Act like it” his words left you stunned. You clenched your jaw, gripping your sword tighter, the sting of his words fueling your resolve.

"Let’s go again now!"

---

A few years had passed since that day. You and Ace were no longer the young, inexperienced children you once were, fumbling through the basics of swordplay. At eighteen, you both stood as trained knights, yet amateurs, your bodies stronger and your skills sharper, each of you having fought and trained your way through the hardest of challenges.

You could feel Ace’s presence beside you even now, like it was back then—steady, unwavering, just as determined to be strong as you were. But there was something different now. You weren’t just learning from him anymore. You were equals.

As the years passed, the bond between you and Ace had grown stronger, shaped by countless hours of training, shared struggles, and mutual respect. But somewhere along the way, something shifted. It wasn’t just the sparring matches or the quiet moments of camaraderie that had always existed between you both—it was something deeper, something you couldn’t quite ignore.

It was there in the quiet moments, when the training ground emptied and the evening light cast long shadows, that you’d catch yourself watching him just a little longer than you intended. The way his jaw tightened when he was focused, the way his movements seemed effortless, as though battle itself was something he could control. You began to realize it wasn’t just admiration for his skill—it was something more.

You had never intended to develop feelings for him. He was your rival, your partner in training, the one who had pushed you to become strong enough to stand among knights. But now, at eighteen, those feelings you had tried to push away, to bury under the weight of your duty, refused to stay hidden any longer.

There were times when the air between you two would feel charged, thick with unsaid words. The moments when your eyes would meet, and for just a second, everything else would fade away. It was during those moments that you felt it the most—the quiet tension, the unspoken understanding, and the flicker of something more.

You tried to push it aside. After all, you were knights. Emotions like these were distractions, right? But every time you sparred, every time you fought side by side, you realized that the feelings you had for Ace weren’t going to disappear just because you ignored them. You found yourself caring more about his well-being than you ever had before, wanting to make sure he was safe, wanting to be the one he leaned on when things got hard.

Once, you had been walking through the quiet corridors of the knights training when you overheard voices drifting from a nearby room. At first, you thought nothing of it—just the usual chatter of your comrades, perhaps discussing the day’s training. But then you recognized the familiar sound of Ace’s voice, and without meaning to, you found yourself pausing, curiosity pulling you closer.

“I don’t get it,” you heard a new voice say, low and casual. It was Sabo, Ace’s younger brother. “Why did you choose to be a knight? We could have both been lawyers, you know. Easier lives, less blood.”

There was a brief pause, and then Ace’s voice followed, quiet but sure. “I chose this path so I could be close to her.”

Your heart stopped for a moment. The words echoed in your mind, over and over, as if your own thoughts couldn’t quite catch up with what you had just heard. Be close to her?

Sabo’s voice broke through your thoughts. “So, that’s it? You’re still chasing after her, huh?” Ace’s reply was quiet, but you could hear the faintest hint of something behind it—perhaps uncertainty, or something more. “I guess you could say that,” he said. “I don’t know… I’ve never really had a choice.”

Your breath caught in your chest. There it was again—the unspoken truth that had been building between you for years. You stood there for a moment, frozen in place, unsure of what to do with this newfound knowledge. Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat rise to your face as a mixture of confusion and something else swirled inside you. You had heard it wrong, hadn’t you? Ace couldn’t possibly feel the same way about you, could he?

But then, you remembered his words, clear and certain. I chose this path so I could be close to her. Here you were, standing in the quiet hallway, heart pounding in your chest. Once again, that teenage girl with a silly little crush, caught off guard by feelings you thought you had long buried. The realization that Ace might actually feel the same way hit you like a wave, leaving you breathless and unsure of what to do with it.

---

The forest was quiet, the only sounds the soft crunch of leaves beneath your boots and the occasional rustle of branches swaying in the wind. The sunlight barely filtered through the thick canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. You and Ace walked in sync, the tension of the day’s patrol still lingering between you. The air was cool, the scent of pine and earth grounding you in the moment.

The two of you had been patrolling the forest for hours, but your mind kept drifting back to the words you’d overheard days ago. You had tried to ignore it, tried to bury the strange flutter in your chest, but it was hard to pretend like it didn’t matter.

Ace's footsteps slowed for a moment, and you found yourself glancing at him. His profile was strong and steady, but there was something else—something unspoken. Maybe it was just the weight of the silence, or maybe it was the strange pull you had always felt between the two of you, but tonight, everything felt different.

Without turning to face you, Ace spoke, his voice breaking the quiet. "You’ve been quiet," he said, as if he’d noticed your shift in demeanor. “Everything okay?” You hesitated, unsure of how to answer.

"I’m fine," you replied, your voice steady, even though inside you could feel a nervous flutter. "Just keeping an eye out." Ace nodded, his eyes still scanning your face for any reaction.

“You know…” He trailed off, his voice carrying a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. “Out here, it’s easy to get distracted. You can lose yourself in the quiet, forget why you’re here.”

You swallowed, unsure of where this conversation was going. “I’m not distracted,” you said, trying to sound confident.

“No,” he agreed, glancing over his shoulder at you for just a moment. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were steady. “You’re not. But some things are harder to ignore than others."

“What do you mean by that?” You asked, hoping to keep your tone casual, but the question slipped out before you could think about it. The air between you both felt charged now, as if this moment was teetering on the edge of something unspoken.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice a little too quiet. “Just... the way things are out here. It’s easy to let your guard down.” But you both knew that wasn’t what he meant. Not really. His words were layered, each one holding more weight than the last, and despite how he tried to mask it, you could sense the pull between you both, like an invisible thread keeping you connected even when you were apart. You took a breath, trying to steady yourself.

Before you could even process the shift in the air, Ace’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of your neck and taking off your helmet with a surprising intensity. His touch was hot, almost desperate, as he pulled you toward him, knocking off his own helmet and closing the distance between you in an instant. His lips crashed against yours, cutting off any thought, any hesitation.

It wasn’t slow, nor was it cautious. The kiss was fierce, raw, and filled with everything you’d both held back. His lips were demanding, urgent, as if he had been waiting for this moment as much as you had. Your breath caught in your throat as your hands instinctively found his silver shoulders, gripping him, pulling him closer.

You didn’t think about the consequences, the unspoken tension, or the uncertainty of what came next. When he finally pulled away, breathless and with his forehead resting against yours, you could see the same shock and raw emotion reflected in his eyes.

“I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said, his voice rough, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

You could barely find your own voice as you met his gaze, heart racing, still trying to catch your breath. “Me too.”

Without another word, you reached up, your hands trembling as they slid into his hair, pulling him back toward you. This time, the kiss was even deeper, more urgent, like it was a language you both understood without needing to speak. His hands moved quickly, pulling you into him, your bodies pressed close as if the distance between you could no longer exist.

The forest around you seemed to fade into the background, the cool breeze rustling the leaves above, the shadows deepening as nighthas fallen. But in that moment, everything felt alive. Every touch, every kiss, was a confession, a surrender. The years of training, the years of being beside him, all led to this.

Ace's hands slid down your back, his touch becoming more desperate, more possessive while unbuckling your armor. His lips moved from yours, trailing down to your jaw, then your neck, sending waves of heat through your body. You gasped softly, your body responding to him in ways you hadn’t expected, and yet, it felt natural, as if this was how it was always meant to be.

You met his intensity with your own, pulling him closer, your hands wandering to the straps of his armor, clumsily unbuckling them. The sound of metal scraping against metal filled the air, but neither of you paid any mind. It was a blur now, everything blending into something more primal, more real than the words you had never spoken.

When his armor finally came off, his bare skin pressed against yours, and you felt the warmth of him in every inch, every touch. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as you were carried further from the path, deeper into the cover of the trees. You barely noticed where he was taking you, consumed by the feeling of his hands on your body, his lips on your skin.

Everything felt like it was building to something more, something that you hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine until now. His kisses were insistent, but gentle when needed, exploring the parts of you that had always been hidden, always been untouched.

When you found the small clearing, the moonlight filtering through the trees and bathing the two of you in soft silver light, you paused for only a moment. But Ace wasn’t giving you time to second-guess anything.

 His lips found yours again, and this time, it was no longer about hesitation or uncertainty. It was about taking what had always been just out of reach. His hands traced the lines of your body, pulling you closer as you fell into each other once more, your world spinning with every movement.

In the quiet of the forest, with the world outside fading away, you both finally gave in to what had been inevitable all along.

After that night, things between you and Ace had changed. It wasn’t something that was obvious at first. He didn’t pull away immediately, but the distance grew over the days that followed. At first, you thought it might have just been the aftermath of everything—the confusion, the rush of emotions. You tried to dismiss the way he started to retreat, convincing yourself that it was just a natural response to something so raw.

Ace was still by your side, still your partner on patrols and training, but there was a quietness to him now—something you hadn’t noticed before. He would look at you, but his gaze wasn’t the same. During training, you caught him avoiding your gaze. He was still tough, still pushing you to be better, but there was an edge to his words, a certain coldness in his tone that wasn’t there before. It felt like he was deliberately keeping his distance, as though the intimacy of that night had made him unsure of where to place you in his life.

It was the silence between you that stung the most. The words that should have come after that night were never spoken. Instead, there was only an awkward tension, a kind of unspoken agreement that neither of you would bring it up. But the more Ace pulled away, the more you felt the weight of it pressing down on you.

One night, after dinner, you saw him slip away, his eyes avoiding yours as he made his way toward the kitchen. You didn’t hesitate. You knew this was your chance. You had to talk to him.

You followed him quietly, your footsteps soft against the stone floors. The kitchen was dim, the only light coming from the flickering fire in the hearth. Ace was standing by the counter, his back to you as he cleaned his sword, the sharp sound of the metal scraping against the stone the only noise in the room.

You took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Ace…” you said, your voice quiet but firm. He stiffened slightly, but didn’t turn to face you. His grip on the sword tightened. "What is it?"

"I—" You stopped yourself before you could say anything, the thought of confronting him suddenly feeling too much. You didn’t say anything more. You couldn’t. You just couldn’t face the possibility that confronting him might make things worse. It wasn’t the right time. You weren’t ready. And neither was he. But deep down, you knew that this silence, this distance—it wouldn’t last forever. Just like that you wanted to disappear and tried to walk away.

Just as you reached your door, ready to close yourself off from everything for the night, you heard footsteps behind you. Before you could react, his voice called out, breaking through the silence.

“Get ready,” Ace’s voice was steady, almost too calm, as though the tension between you two didn’t exist for him at that moment. “We leave for the king’s palace first thing in the morning.”

You turned toward him, confused. His words should have felt like another task to worry about, but there was something in his posture, in the way he said it, that made it sound almost... exciting. His eyes sparkled just a little, and the corners of his mouth were tugged into a small, satisfied smile—something you rarely saw from him. It wasn’t just a mission. It was something more, as if this trip had meaning beyond the typical duty you’d come to expect from him.

“The king’s palace?” you asked, still caught off guard by the change in his demeanor.

He nodded, the smile still on his face. “Yeah. A mission for the crown. Be ready before dawn.” His words were firm, but the way he said them made it clear he was looking forward to this.

“Okay...” You nodded, trying to match his energy. “I’ll be ready.”

Without another word, Ace turned to leave, his expression still lighter than it had been in days, maybe even weeks. The way he walked away, his steps purposeful and quick, seemed to match the upbeat tone in his voice.

---

"Big news, huh?" Sabo said, raising an eyebrow, his voice laced with an amusement Ace hadn’t expected. "I saw you talking to Y/N. You looked like you had something to say."

Ace chuckled under his breath, but it was tight, forced. He didn’t feel like getting into it right now. "Yeah," he replied, trying to brush it off. "We’re leaving for the king’s palace early tomorrow."

"You’re glad about it, aren’t you?" Sabo asked, his voice teasing. Ace glanced up. He hadn’t realized how much he was letting his emotions slip through. He shrugged, trying to play it cool. "It’s a mission. A job."

But Sabo wasn’t buying it. He chuckled softly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Come on, Ace. You’re really that eager to go? It’s not just the mission you’re excited about, is it?"

Ace’s eyes narrowed as he tried to hide the truth, but Sabo already knew. It wasn’t just about the mission. It wasn’t just about duty. It was about her.

"Don’t make it sound like that," Ace muttered, standing up and walking to the window, staring out at the darkening sky. "I just... I need a break. From everything. From all the tension, the questions."

Sabo’s tone turned more serious, his voice quieter. "You think running from it will help?"

Ace stiffened, his jaw clenching. "I’m not running," he replied, more defensively than he intended. "It’s just... easier to focus on something else right now."

"Oh, come on," Sabo continued, his grin widening. "You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been so distant lately. And now, all of a sudden, you’ve got this big mission to the king’s palace, and you seem... well, a little too eager, if you ask me."

"You know," Ace began, his voice low and a little more serious than usual, "I’ve liked her since forever. Ever since I saw her in a carriage passing the alleys of our town."

Sabo, sensing the shift in tone, paused. His teasing grin faded slightly as he regarded his older brother more closely. "Yeah? I kind of figured," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You’ve never really hidden it, but you need to keep your expectations in check.”

Ace blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve got feelings for her, I get it. But you’re still a knight, Ace. A knight. She’s got a whole other life, a life that's much different than yours, with more responsibilities. You really think she’s going to look at you like that?”

“I’m not getting my hopes up,” Ace said quietly, his voice thick with frustration. “I’m just... I’m just going to be there. I’ll figure it out as it comes.”

Sabo looked at him for a moment, his gaze searching for any sign that Ace was truly hearing him. But seeing his brother’s stubbornness, his refusal to back down, Sabo just sighed again.

The next morning, the sun had barely risen, casting a soft golden glow over the landscape as Ace and you mounted your horses. Ace adjusted his cloak as he settled into his saddle, his gaze fixed ahead. His expression was focused, but there was something else lingering beneath it, something you couldn’t quite read. His eyes flickered over to you for a moment, but he quickly turned away again, his jaw set.

“Ready?” Ace’s voice broke through your thoughts, the question almost casual, but there was an edge to it—like he was searching for a response that might confirm something.

You nodded, trying to mask the fluttering feeling in your chest. “Ready.” you said.

Each step took you closer to the palace, but it also took you closer to the question that neither of you seemed willing to voice. You both had your reasons for coming, but now, with the palace in sight, it felt like there was more at stake than just the mission. The uncertainty lingered like a shadow, hanging heavy between you and Ace, but for now, all you could do was ride forward.

The ride took hours, the morning turning into midday as the vast expanse of the royal grounds slowly began to come into view. The towering walls of the palace loomed in the distance, their stone surface glistening under the sunlight. It was breathtaking, an imposing structure that seemed to reach toward the sky.

You both slowed your horses as the palace guards appeared at the entrance, their eyes sharp as they assessed the two of you. Ace was the first to reach for his helmet, slipping it on with ease, hiding his features behind the gleaming metal. You followed suit, securing your own helmet with a smooth motion, the familiar weight settling over your head like a shield.

Ace’s voice came through the commotion as he motioned for you to follow him. “Stay close,” he said, his tone firm but quiet, the kind of command that a knight might give to another.

You nodded, though the weight of his words—and the way he said them—made something tighten in your chest. This wasn’t just about the mission anymore. There was more at play, and the silence between the two of you seemed to echo louder now, filled with all the unspoken things that had been lingering between you since the night in the forest.

With a final glance at Ace, you followed him through the gates, the massive palace walls closing in around you as you entered the inner courtyard. The knights were here for duty, but the looming questions between you and him felt just as important as any royal matter.

The palace, with its grandeur and history, seemed both familiar and foreign all at once. Now, you were here—not just as knights on a mission, but as something more complicated, something unspoken. And as you dismounted and stood side by side with Ace, the weight of your helmets somehow felt even heavier, the distance between you both greater than ever before.

You and Ace arrived at the palace gates, the towering walls stretching high above. As the palace attendants moved swiftly to take care of your horses, Ace dismounted with practiced ease, his movements silent and efficient. Without a glance, he handed his reins over, his helmet still firmly in place.

You followed suit, carefully dismounting and passing your horse to a stable boy. The weight of your helmet felt heavy as you removed it, glancing at Ace, who had already begun walking toward the palace entrance. You quickly caught up, and together, you entered the grand halls, the quiet buzz of the palace surrounding you.

After a brief walk through the palace’s winding corridors, you and Ace were led by the attendants into a grand, towering chamber. The walls were lined with intricate tapestries depicting the kingdom’s long history. At the far end of the room, on a raised dais, stood the king’s throne—an imposing, gold-trimmed seat, surrounded by statues and towering columns that seemed to reach toward the heavens.

King Sengoku sat on the throne, his eyes assessing the two of you with a calm yet commanding gaze. His regal presence filled the room, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all as you stood before him.

Ace, as always, remained composed, his posture straight and unwavering. You stood by his side, trying to appear as calm, despite the growing anticipation in the air.

The king’s voice broke the silence. "Welcome, knights. I trust your journey was smooth?"

You nodded, your voice steady despite the nerves that were creeping up on you. “The journey was fine, Your Majesty.”

Ace’s response mirrored yours, his voice firm as he addressed the king. “We arrived without incident, Your Majesty.”

The king gave a small nod before motioning to the girls aside him, “These are my nieces,” he said, his voice softer now, though still commanding. “Princess Hibari, and Princess Isuka.”

Ace straightened, his posture as disciplined as ever, and with a respectful nod, he addressed the king and his nieces. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty, Princess Hibari, Princess Isuka.” His voice was steady, his words polite yet firm, carrying the weight of the respect he held for their status.

You followed his lead, giving a slight bow. “The pleasure is ours, Your Majesty, Princess Hibari, Princess Isuka,” you echoed, keeping your voice even and respectful.

The king’s eyes briefly flickered over both of you, a small nod of approval in his gaze. The princesses, too, gave polite nods in return, though their expressions remained measured, still observing the knights before them. As Ace stood there, his eyes briefly flickered over to Princess Isuka. His heart gave an unexpected lurch as the memory came rushing back, unbidden. It was her. The girl he had seen all those years ago in the royal carriage—the one who had looked out at him with an air of mystery and elegance, her eyes filled with curiosity as she passed by. He had been just a child back then, but the image of her had stayed with him ever since, etched into his mind.

“You’ve traveled a long way and must be weary,” King said, his voice softening slightly. “Go rest, knights. Take some time to recover from your journey. The evening will bring a different kind of challenge.” He gestured toward the attendants, who were already prepared to guide you to your quarters.

You nodded respectfully, feeling the weight of his words. Ace, too, gave a subtle acknowledgment, his posture remaining steady.

“And,” the king continued, his tone now a bit lighter, “you are both invited to the masked ball this evening. It will be an event of great importance, and your presence is expected. Be sure to dress accordingly.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ace replied, his voice steady and polite.

The king smiled slightly. “Rest well, and we shall see you later this evening. Do not keep the guests waiting.”

With that, the attendants led you both away, the grandeur of the throne room fading behind you as you were escorted to your quarters. The weight of the invitation hung in the air, and as you walked in silence beside Ace, you couldn't help but wonder what the night would bring.

---

The dress you wore was a rich emerald velvet, its bodice tightly fitted with intricate lacework that highlighted your form. The long, flowing sleeves were made of fine silk, trailing gracefully to your wrists, while the skirt cascaded to the floor in soft, layered waves. A small slit along the side allowed for ease of movement, though it was hidden by the fabric.

Your mask was delicate, crafted from polished silver with elegant filigree patterns. It covered the upper part of your face, leaving your lips exposed, and the crystal embellishments on the eyes caught the light, adding a mysterious sparkle to your gaze. Together, the gown and mask made you appear both noble and untouchable, yet the warrior within you remained just beneath the surface.

Ace wore his full knight's armor, the metal gleaming in the soft light of the palace. His chestplate, embossed with the insignia of his order, was a polished silver that contrasted with the darker leather beneath. His gauntlets were sturdy, and his boots well-worn from years of use, but they still held a commanding presence. His helmet, however, was held in his hand.

The entire night passed in a heavy silence between you and Ace. Despite the grandeur of the masked ball, with guests mingling and the soft music playing in the background, there was a distance between you both that couldn’t be ignored. Ace remained at your side, but he didn’t speak a word. His gaze was constantly elsewhere, his eyes scanning the room as though his attention was lost to something far beyond the dance floor.

You tried to catch his eye a few times, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment, but each time, his focus was fixed on something—or someone—else. The once familiar connection you shared seemed distant, as though he had slipped into a world of his own, leaving you alone in a sea of strangers.

The entire night, Ace couldn’t help but feel a tight knot of frustration in his chest. He tried, again and again, to catch Princess Isuka’s gaze, his eyes scanning the room in search of her. But every time he thought he might, she was surrounded by other princes—talking, laughing, the attention of every noble in the room on her.

He couldn’t deny the sharp pang of jealousy that twisted inside him each time another man leaned in too close, shared a laugh, or bowed a little too deeply in her presence. But it wasn’t just jealousy that gnawed at him. It was insecurity, a deeper feeling he couldn’t shake. He was just a knight—someone sworn to protect, to serve. He didn’t belong in her world of royalty and nobility.

His heart raced every time his eyes drifted to her, and it frustrated him to no end that no matter how many times he tried to get closer, he was always just on the outside looking in. And worse, he couldn't help but wonder if she even noticed him at all.

Without thinking, he turned to you, his voice coming out more sharply than he intended. “Would you care to dance?” he asked, the words feeling almost foreign on his tongue.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden invitation, but before you could respond, Ace was already offering his hand. His eyes, though still guarded, seemed to seek something in yours—maybe a distraction, maybe just the chance to be close to someone who didn’t make him feel small.

You hesitated for a moment, sensing the tension that had been building in him all night, but then you placed your hand in his, the action pulling you both into a fleeting moment of connection.

As the music swirled around them, Ace led you onto the dance floor with a calm yet purposeful grip on your hand. His other hand rested on your waist, and the connection felt both firm and careful. The pressure was gentle but firm, a feeling that stirred something deep within. The memory hit you suddenly: the way his fingers had brushed against your skin, how the air had felt charged, like the very night itself had held its breath. That kiss, the way everything had felt so raw, so real.

As you danced, you noticed that his eyes were fixed on yours, never wavering. The intensity of his stare felt different now—charged, like he was searching for something in your expression, something he couldn’t find in the others around him.

As the dance continued, Ace’s movements slowed, his hand on your waist tightening slightly as he drew you in closer. The space between you both seemed to shrink with every passing second, until you could feel the warmth of his breath against your ear.

"You should come to my room tonight," he whispered, his voice low and steady, the words carrying a weight that made your heart skip. "We have things we need to talk about."

Your pulse quickened, a mix of anticipation and relief washing over you. Finally, you thought. It was time. The air between you both had been thick with tension for too long, and tonight, maybe, things would finally be cleared. You nodded slightly, as if to signal that you understood, that you were ready to finally talk, to understand what had been left unsaid.

After the ball had ended and the guests had begun to disperse, the weight of the night still lingered in the air.

Ace led you through the dimly lit corridors of the palace, his steps steady and purposeful. The sound of his boots echoing in the hallway matched the quickening beat of your heart. When you finally reached his room, Ace opened the door, stepping aside to allow you to enter first.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Ace moved with a sudden intensity, his hand finding yours, pulling you closer. Before you could even take a breath, he pressed you against the door, his lips crashing against yours in a deep, urgent kiss. The shock of the moment left you breathless, but there was something consuming about it, something that made your heart race in your chest.

Between kisses, his voice was low and shaky, a mix of desire and desperation. "We will talk things out," he murmured against your lips, his hand tangling in your hair as he kissed you harder. "But I need you right now."

His words only made the tension in your body heighten, each one fueling the fire that was building between you. His touch was rough, but there was a gentleness beneath it, as if he was both desperate and tender, wanting to feel every inch of you.

You wanted to respond, wanted to say something—anything—but the kiss, the heat between you both, made everything else fade away. All that mattered in that moment was the pull you felt, the magnetic force that neither of you could resist.

Morning light filtered softly through the curtains, pulling you from a restless sleep. As you stirred, confusion set in—Ace’s bed, the tangled sheets, and the lingering ache in your body. The events of the night rushed back, but when you looked around, he was gone. His armor, his presence—everything was absent.

You sat up, heart sinking, unsure of what to feel. Had it meant something, or was it just a fleeting moment for him? The room felt cold and empty without him, and the silence only left more questions unanswered.

The next time you saw Ace, it was not in the quiet of his room or the stillness of the morning. It was when the news came—the kingdom was under attack.

The air was thick with tension as the messenger arrived, his face pale and breathless. "The kingdom is under siege," he announced, his voice strained with urgency.

Before you could process the shock, Ace appeared at the front, his expression hard and focused. His armor was back on, and his eyes locked onto yours for a brief moment, the weight of the situation overtaking whatever had happened between you the night before. He didn’t say a word to you; he didn’t need to. The kingdom needed him, and the past was put on hold for the chaos that was about to unfold.

The horns sounded in the distance, a sharp warning that the siege had begun. The kingdom was under attack. Soldiers rushed to their positions, armor clanking as they hurried. The sky above was dark, matching the feeling of dread in the air.

Ace stood at the front, his sword in hand, ready for battle. His eyes were cold with determination. He moved swiftly, giving orders and preparing for the fight ahead.

You found yourself on the battlefield, your own sword ready as you joined the others. The enemy charged, their shouts filling the air as they rushed toward the gates. The clash of swords and shields was deafening. Every strike felt like a test of survival.

Ace fought fiercely, cutting through the enemy with precision. He moved like a storm, and you followed closely behind him, defending your kingdom. The battle felt endless, the sounds of the fight overwhelming. But through it all, you caught brief glimpses of Ace’s eyes. No words were needed; his focus was all on the battle, and so was yours.

The fight continued, the enemy’s numbers pushing harder. You fought side by side, knowing this wasn’t just about protecting the kingdom, but something deeper that tied you both together. With each blow, you stood strong, not just for the kingdom, but for each other.

The battle raged on, and the enemy was pushing closer to the palace gates. Ace’s voice rang out, sharp and clear above the chaos. “We need to get inside! Protect the king and his family!”

With weapons raised, the two of you, along with the rest of the knights, fought your way through the thick of it, carving a path toward the palace. The enemy was relentless, but you pushed forward, heart pounding, determined to reach the king before it was too late.

As you neared the entrance, a loud scream pierced the air, echoing through the battlefield. It was a scream unlike any other, filled with terror and desperation. It was Princess Isuka.

The sound sent a cold chill down your spine. You looked to Ace, who had heard it too. His jaw tightened, and without another word, he broke into a sprint, heading straight for the palace doors.

The fight to protect the king was far from over, but now there was something more—an urgent need to protect the princess. You followed him, your breath coming in sharp gasps, your sword ready, knowing that whatever had caused that scream, you needed to reach her before it was too late.

Ace kicked open the door to Princess Isuka’s room, his sword raised. Inside, masked attackers were closing in on her. Without hesitation, he charged, his blade cutting through the air, taking down the first attacker with a single, precise strike. You followed close behind, joining the fight as Ace moved with deadly precision, each blow

aimed at eliminating the threat. One by one, the attackers fell, until the room was silent, the danger gone.

Ace quickly moved toward Princess Isuka, his eyes softening for just a moment as he approached her. He knelt down, gently lifting her into his arms. She was shaken, her face pale, but her eyes were filled with gratitude.

"I’ll stay with her," Ace told you, his voice steady but urgent. "I’ll make sure she’s safe. You need to look for any remaining enemies."

You nodded, though your heart clenched at his words. The urgency in his tone, the way he held the princess so protectively, it was all clear now. His gaze lingered on Isuka as he carefully adjusted her in his arms, his posture softening for her in a way he never had with you.

As you turned to check the hall for other threats, it hit you. The protective way Ace had acted, the care he showed her—it wasn’t just duty. It was something deeper, something more personal.

He had feelings for her.

"You saved me," she whispered, her voice a mixture of awe and gratitude, her hand gently resting on his chest.

Ace’s expression softened, but there was a quiet tension in his eyes. He said nothing, only nodding as he adjusted his hold on her. Her giggles continued, a light, almost carefree sound that filled the room. It was clear she was captivated by him, as if the danger they’d just faced was forgotten in the warmth of his protection.

You watched from the doorway, a knot forming in your stomach. The princess was clearly charmed by Ace, her giggles a stark contrast to the weight of the situation.

As the princess continued to gaze up at Ace, a soft smile spread across her face. She seemed completely enchanted by him, her giggles lingering in the air, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of his armor.

"Thank you, Sir Ace," she said, her voice filled with admiration, her eyes twinkling. "You’re my hero."

Ace’s face remained stoic, though there was a hint of discomfort in the way he shifted his weight, still holding her with care. "I was just doing my duty," he said, his voice steady, but there was a slight tightness to it.

The princess, however, seemed lost in her own world, oblivious to the rest of the room. She leaned in closer to Ace, her head resting against his chest, her breath soft against his armor. "You’re so strong," she murmured, giggling again as she looked up at him.

As you stood in the doorway, watching Ace and Princess Isuka, the realization hit you like a wave.

You had always believed that there was something between you and Ace. The training, the moments shared in silence, the unspoken connection. But now, as you observed how he held Isuka, how his eyes softened for her in a way they never had for you, it became clear.

You had never been more than a distraction. A fleeting moment, a temporary comfort for Ace. He had never looked at you the way he looked at her. The way she giggled in his arms, how he was so tender with her—it was something you would never have.

For the first time, you saw it all for what it truly was. You had been the one to occupy his mind, to keep him busy while he longed for her. And now that the princess was in front of him, everything about you—your feelings, your efforts—seemed to fade into the background.

You were nothing more than a distraction to him, something to pass the time until he could be close to the one he truly wanted. And in that moment, a cold ache spread through your chest, deeper than any battle wound you had ever suffered.

You turned away, feeling the sting of your own heart breaking.

A few years had passed, and much had changed since that fateful night. Ace had become the personal guardian of Princess Isuka, a title that earned him respect and admiration throughout the kingdom. It was no surprise—his skill, loyalty, and strength had made him a perfect fit for such an important role. The princess, now the future queen, was to marry a prince from a neighboring kingdom, solidifying an alliance that was crucial to the kingdom’s future.

But rumors swirled around the palace like shadows, whispering that the princess and her personal guard were more than just protector and royal. Their closeness had raised eyebrows, and the rumors of an affair between the two were growing louder by the day. No one could say for sure, but the signs were all there—the way Ace was always by her side, the way she would glance at him in the quiet halls when no one else was looking.

Meanwhile, you had been added to the kingdom’s guard, your skills honed over the years. You had worked hard to get there, but it felt like a hollow victory. You were now part of the very unit that protected the royal family, yet you felt further removed from Ace than ever. He was loyal to Isuka, his attention always on her, and your own place in the guard seemed so distant, even though you had once stood by his side.

The kingdom was shifting—preparing for the marriage, for the new queen—but there was still a heaviness in the air, something unspoken. It weighed on you, seeing Ace by the princess’s side, his every move focused on her. You could feel the distance between you, even though you had once shared more. Now, you were nothing more than a shadow in the background, a guard, while Ace was her confidant, her protector, her everything.

But then, just as the ceremony was about to proceed, you felt a presence beside you. You turned to find Ace standing there, looking at you with an unreadable expression. His armor gleamed in the soft light, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed, like the years hadn't gone by, like he was still the same Ace you had once known.

"You’re still here," he said quietly, his voice soft enough that only you could hear.

You stiffened, unsure how to respond. You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "I’m here to do my duty."

Ace’s eyes studied you for a moment, as if he was trying to gauge something in your expression. Then, his gaze softened just a fraction, and he took a step closer. "It wasn’t supposed to be like this," he murmured, almost as if talking to himself.

Your heart skipped, and before you could say anything, he continued. "I know things have changed, and I… I didn’t want it to end like this, with you standing so far away."

His words hit you harder than you expected. The weight of everything—your feelings, the years, the distance—felt suffocating. You wanted to speak, to tell him how much you had always wished things were different, how much you had hoped for a chance, but the words caught in your throat.

"I’ve always… cared about you," Ace added, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes not meeting yours for a moment. "But I’ve made mistakes. I don’t expect anything from you, not now."

“It doesn’t matter no more. It was obvious that everything you did was for her, always” it never hurt any less. You were never her.

all author rights go to @neospade

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 24

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23

1.2k words

Things may have not gone to plan, but you finally felt close to Zen.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

--------

A warm fire crackled in the hearth as you sat on Zen’s lap, both still naked. He was warming up the food he had brought home for dinner and you did not want to separate from him when he had gotten up from the bed. You cuddled against his chest while he reached around you to place everything at the edges of the hearth to warm up.

“Aren’t you cold just sitting on the floor?” you asked.

“Not with the hearth lit, and you are keeping me warm” he gave you a quick nuzzle.

A new layer of comfort had settled between the two of you, no barriers remained. Things did not exactly go as planned, but that hardly mattered now. All that remained now was room to grow.

Zen handed you food as it was ready, minced meat and vegetables wrapped in some sort of pastry, while he hummed his usual song.

“You got home early today” you pointed out to him.

“Bira came by and told me I needed to go home and check on something.”

“And you still stopped for food on the way home?”

“It did not seem like an emergency and we still need to eat” he shrugged.

You could not help but laugh a bit. Both Bira and Ba’tual had pointed out a few times that Zen used to skip meals most days, too caught up in everything else to take care of himself. It was not that he looked scrawny or anything when you first met, but now that he was eating well and sleeping through the night he sure did look a lot healthier.

He kept an arm wrapped around you to hold you close while he ate too, which was cozy, though you did have a complaint.

“You’re getting crumbs in my hair” you said and tried to brush them off.

“And I will help you get them out after too” he said.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence at the hearth for a while, Zen’s tusks tapped against the sides of your head while he tried to kiss the top of your head. With the sun starting to set the familiar chill started to set in.

“How about I run a hot bath for us?” Zen offered as if reading your mind.

You nodded against his chest and let him pick you up. Even from this awkward angle with you siting on his lap he lifted you with ease.

The warm water of the bath felt good against your cool skin while Zen washed your hair, getting the crumbs out as promised. Between the feeling of him purring while you leaned back against his chest and him playing with your hair you could have easily fallen asleep like that.

“You look comfortable” Zen said.

“I am” you answered.

“I like that, I like that you are comfortable here and around me” he said as he helped rinse the shampoo from your hair.

“Did you ever plan on getting married, like in general?” you asked.

“I have planned on very few things in my life, things just happen and I pray that they work out.”

“Like this?”

“Like this” he repeated, “And I am very happy things are working out. But you expected to marry, right?”

“I did, and when I was little my family did come to an agreement with another family that if their son could make a name for himself and climb the ranks in the royal navy I would be promised to him.”

“And you were alright with that?”

“It’s just life. He’s from a good family so it would have been a good match” you shrugged.

“Am I a good match?”

You had not put much thought into it truthfully, no more thought than that you were marrying someone who was not human. “Well, you’re a representative on the king’s council and the avatar of a god, so technically I might have married above my station.”

“And that is a good thing?” he asked cautiously.

“Technically this is a very good marriage for me.”

“Technically?”

“Yes, in theory this is a good marriage for me because I married up. But honestly you’re just a really good husband Zen.”

He wrapped his arms around you tightly and pulled you as close as he could without crushing you, “I am trying to be” he said against the side of your head.

You stayed entwined in the tub until the water started to cool. Zen got out first to dry off and relight the hearth to make sure the main room was warm enough for you before coming back to help you out of the tub and dry off.

He tucked you into bed, pulling the covered over you both and then pulled you on top of his chest. His hands were warm on the bare skin of your back while he absentmindedly rubbed your back and occasionally nuzzled his jaw against the top of your head.

It was always just calm being with him. Zen was never in a hurry with anything, well except for earlier. Earlier when he could not keep his hands off of you. Earlier when he eagerly undressed you. When he pressed against you and grinded against you. How direct and needy he was.

You leaned up to kiss his neck and he happily tilted his head to the side to let you reach better. His pulse was strong just under his skin and soft against your lips. By the time you had reached to nip along his jaw he was softly moaning and his hands had traveled down from your back down to your hips so he could really pull you close.

“And what are you up to my lovely wife?” he asked and you could feel the vibrations from his purring.

You did not answer, but instead reached up to pull his hair, making him bare more of his throat to you.

“You are so pushy for such a little thing, I like it” he chuckled.

At this point you were straddling his chest with how far up you had scooted to reach him. The vibrations from his purring were going straight to your clit and only encourage you to grind against him. You had been so ready earlier, so wet and excited to feel his thick cock fill you now that you were ready. It had been so disappointing when you had to stop that afternoon, the first few inches had felt incredible before he got to be too much.

“Are we picking back up from earlier then?” he asked.

“I want you” was all you could manage.

He tilted your face up so you could see him and gave you such a smirk, “Good, because all I have been able to think about for the last few hours was you riding me until you scream my name and then claiming you properly.”

His words made your cunt clench around nothing, a fire lit in your belly at the thought of him claiming you.

“Get on your back” he panted in your ear, “I am going to make sure that you are ready for me this time.”

--------

Part 25

Tag list

@blushycadaver @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @graveblanketgreen @lets-imagineastory @emonatural191 @lovingbadguys @after-laughter-come-tears @plathsotherib @krayziee @zaqnette @mochalyluv @nogoatsnoglori (doesn’t want to let me tag mocha or nogoats)

[somepsychopomp]

contemplating a particularly evil AU where, after Odysseus escapes from Poseidon the first time, our favorite problematic god decides to set his sights upon Ithaca in order to get his revenge.

He doesn't raise the tides to drown all the inhabitants or cause earthquakes to break the island apart, no. Poseidon directly seeks out sweet little 10 y/old Telemachus...

and befriends him.

(Ody really shouldn't have doxxed himself with this one)

It starts with Poseidon disguising himself as a mortal man and infiltrating the palace, knowing that Odysseus was blown across the sea and is still struggling to get home. He claims to be a wise man taught in Athens, and is willing to offer his tutelage to Ithaca's prince. Though it irks him a bit to pose as a scholar from the city he lost to his niece, Poseidon convinces Penelope to let him take over the position of her son's tutor in all necessary subjects: reading, oratory, history (which will be easy, seeing as Poseidon lived through all of it himself), etc.

Telemachus is shy at first, but warms up to his new tutor quite quickly. [insert Poseidon's fake name] is not like the stuffy old men that Penelope first assigned to Telemachus' education. He's patient, doesn't reprimand the young prince when he falters, and rewards him for doing well with sweet treats and fantastical stories about faraway lands and monsters.

After earning the lad's trust, Poseidon approaches Penelope and says it's not right that such a bright boy like Telemachus isn't also taught in other aspects of manhood. He asks to take Telemachus out for his first hunt, to which she reluctantly agrees. (Penelope knows that her husband slew an adult boar when he was Telemachus' age so yeah)

Telemachus is both excited and nervous to be outside the palace without any guards or his mother. He asks how Poseidon knows to hunt and he laughs, saying that just because he's a scholar, doesn't mean he isn't also an athlete and a warrior.

Telemachus takes the bait, asking what competitions Poseidon won, who he beat, etc. He's regaled with entirely false tales of wrestling matches, chariot races, and spear throwing contests, as well as stories of successful hunts for bears and wolves.

It's truly the perfect opportunity to strike. The two of them are alone in the woods with no one else around, no one who would hear the prince scream as he was torn asunder. No one to find his bones...

"Do it," Poseidon says quickly, "Strike now."

At the behest of his teacher, Telemachus draws his bow and fires at the young deer upwind from them. The arrow hits the creature in the flank and it darts into the foliage. No time to praise the prince for his aim, Poseidon leads him uphill, showing the boy how to track injured prey. He's armed with a bow he never intended on using and a spear designed for hunting, as similar of a weapon to his trident as he can get.

Poseidon catches a glimpse of movement through the trees and throws his spear. It strikes the deer in the neck, felling it instantly. That night under the stars, the two of them feast on roasted venison over a roaring campfire. Poseidon insists that he couldn't have done it without his pupil, that Telemachus injuring the deer was what brought about its downfall.

Telemachus is beaming with joy, so excited to have gotten his first kill, when he suddenly turns withdrawn and shy. Poseidon asks what's wrong.

"It's just that... I always hoped I would go on my first hunt with my father..."

Poseidon pulls the boy against his side as Telemachus sniffles and tries to suppress his tears. Poseidon hushes him and says that while he can't speak for the king, he's certainly proud of his pupil!

"But do you think he'll be back soon?" Telemachus asks. Poseidon smiles and says only the gods would know. But for now, Telemachus should be proud of himself.

Penelope is pleased to find her son in one piece when he returns. He shows her the pelt from his first hunt and she assures him she's very impressed. What really matters to her is that Telemachus is safe and growing as a boy should- learning the useful skills he'll need as a man and a future king.

From then on, Poseidon has much more leeway with how he spends his time with the prince. They go to the beach so Telemachus learns how to swim, fish, and sail. He learns how to tame a horse and gain its trust, etc.

It's a nice way to pass the time, waiting.

Eventually, news turns up that every fleet from Troy arrived home, except for Odysseus'. No other king knows where he and his 600-person army vanished to. No one knows where he is, or when he'll return.

Penelope is saddened by this revelation, but knows her husband well and refuses to believe that Odysseus of Ithaca perished in something as simple as a rogue storm. Telemachus is heartbroken, though. He's just a boy and after having heard that nearby kingdoms received their men after ten long years, he got all his hopes up that he'd finally get to meet his father.

His mother tries to console him, to tell Telemachus not to give up hope. Odysseus is out there, somewhere. But her son is inconsolable until Poseidon gently asks Penelope if he can speak to him.

Poseidon tells Telemachus that sometimes things happen for a reason. Was this the will of some god, perhaps?

Telemachus doesn't know how to respond, but sniffles and asks if he did something wrong. If it's his fault his father isn't home. Poseidon hugs him tight and says it's not his fault at all! No, if anything, perhaps Odysseus' silver tongue got him in trouble, or that this delay in his' return is only a temporary misfortune. Perhaps it'll lead to greater things down the line. Telemachus doesn't really understand, but he begins to calm down after hearing both his mother & tutor tell him that things will be alright.

In the meantime, Telemachus wants to become someone that his father would be proud of. He asks Poseidon to train him even harder and help him grow into a great warrior.

Poseidon accepts and the two of them grow even closer.

Not long after, the first of the suitors arrive. They're the sons of local noblemen or other prominent families in Ithaca. For a while, the queen offers them hospitality without suspecting much, thinking that the gifts the men offer are condolences for her husband's late arrival. Then they start trying to woo her.

The suitors start harassing Telemachus, too. They see him as an obvious threat to the power they could steal for themselves. Odysseus was crowned the king at the age of 13 and the same could happen to Telemachus if Penelope declines to remarry. All of a sudden as more and more suitors invade his palace, Telemachus finds himself unwelcome in his own home. The suitors do not let him eat near them- they'll go as far as to snatch his food. They leer at him, call him small, and taunt him by saying he'll never be king.

Telemachus thinks there's nothing he can do to fight back, but then Poseidon steps in and tells the suitors to cease their unruly behavior. They gang up on Poseidon, who they perceive as an unimpressive middle aged man, before getting their asses handed to them by a middled aged man who knows how to wield a spear as though he was born for it.

Telemachus has never seen something so amazing before. His teacher defeated a dozen men alone! How is that even possible?

Poseidon doesn't answer him directly, only saying he's gotten into his own fair share of fights before. When news of the brawl reaches Penelope, she decides that Poseidon should be promoted to Telemachus' guardian until Odysseus returns, fulling both the role of tutor & protector. She won't have her only child be bullied and menaced by grown men, not in her halls.

It is at this point that Poseidon pulls out his greatest trick yet. And that is to tell the truth. For months now, he's been posing as a kindly old teacher. But in secret, he reveals himself to Telemachus as the god of the sea!

Poseidon claims he heard the boy pray for his father's return and came to him in disguise. (Poseidon didn't even know who Telemachus was until Ody pissed him off, but he was willing to bet that such a naive child would certainly pray for his absent daddy to return. And he was right.)

Poseidon warns that Odysseus is not who Telemachus thinks he is. He might have been a kind and gentle man before, but he turned into a merciless, vain monster who allowed over 500 of his men to perish because he was arrogant enough to think he could lead them through a terrible storm.

Telemachus can hardly believe it- he doesn't want to. He won't! His mother always told him that his father was the most clever man of all, trained by Athena herself.

"Ah," Poseidon says, his voice full of sympathy, "And what does Athena know of love? Of mercy? No, no, my poor boy. You've been misled. Your father is not the man you think he is, for he blinded my own son just so he could steal some livestock!"

Telemachus’ mind is racing. He doesn’t know what to think. Who is his father, really?

Trembling from head to toe in fear, he asks if Poseidon will punish him as vengeance for his own son.

And the earthshaker will smile at him, oh so softly.

“My poor child, why would I do that? You father has flung himself to the farthest reaches of the sea, but I am here for you. I’ve come to answer your prayers, to set things right between your house and mine.”

Poseidon cups Telemachus’ face and leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to the boy’s head. “And should your father ever arrive on this isle, I will keep you safe from him.”

(And so Telemachus will grow up unsure of the man his father really is, all while struggling to see Poseidon as anything but)

[pricesprincess]

Heyy, can I please request Price and his wife having one of those heated arguments that involve slamming doors, going away, cursing at each other etc .

hello! you can yes! I wasn't sure if you wanted this to end with pure angst or with some happiness so I ended it with fluff because I'm a simpy sap lmao

At this point in the week, you had no idea what you and John had been fighting about. Was it because he missed date night? Was it because you took a shift over helping him at the house?

Either way, it was World War Three in your home.

His friends refused to come over for the weekly dinner, stating that they didn't want to be caught between the nameless argument. Even when Gaz asked what was wrong, your husband shrugged.

Tension permeated the air like missiles, blowing your marriage up into a big ball of fire and smoke that you couldn't put out, only adding more fuel to it with your snippy tones and each door being slammed.

"You couldn't put your pants in the washer?" You snap as you look at your husband, who sits on the couch (his new bed) while he watches the game on the glowing screen. A game he's seen before already.

Blue eyes averted from the TV to your form.

If this were a cartoon, you'd have smoke billowing from your ears.

John shifted and manspread, pretending he didn't hear you as his gaze flicked back to his game. You balled the blue material and tossed it at his feet. "Fuck you for playing the silent game. You want to play that? Don't get all snappy when you fucking lose, John."

The door slam was hard enough to rattle the walls and the pictures you took over the years that retold stories of memories captured forever under a glossy film. John sighed and rubbed his face harshly.

Another week of WWIII came and went.

This time, it was John who came to you with his face pinched in anger. "Do you do this shit on purpose?" He asked, his accent thickening his words so much you cocked your head, confused.

You leaned against the counter and stirred your coffee. "What shit are you talking about this time, John? Mhm?" You shot back with an eye roll. Your husband stiffened and showed you his shirt with an oil stain.

"Are you kidding me?" Your defensive tone only riled John up more.

He thrust the shirt closer to you, bumping the edge of your cup that spilled iced coffee all over your new white blouse. The air went still and thick with a dangerous anger that boiled over. "What the hell?"

John didn't say anything; his eyes shifted from the stain on his shirt to the one he made on yours, and the fight drained from him.

You, on the other hand, were ready to flip your lid.

With fire dancing in your eyes, you watched as John moved forward and let his shirt fall from his arms as he grabbed your hips, pulling you forward, where he cut you off with a kiss when you opened your mouth. "What are we fightin' about? We've been goin' at each other like animals, and not in the way we like." He whispered.

All the fight drained from you as you sighed and melted in your husband's embrace, burying your face in his neck with a soft sob.

It was easier to take your frustrations out on each other because you two lived together, but you knew that's not how it's supposed to go. "I don't even know anymore, baby. I'm sorry for being so bitchy."

John pulled back, letting his hands rest on your hips still as he rested his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry for being an arse to you. My pants didn't end up in the washer that day, and I didn't know."

"And I know you didn't mean to spill my coffee over me. We shouldn't talk to each other this way; you deserve to be treated like the king you are." You sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He held you closer, pulling you into his warm hug that you soaked in.

His fingers stroked your back as he kissed your forehead, feeling the tension melt from his muscles and the relationship like water being drained from a tub. "My queen deserves better too." He replied.

[plussizefantasia]

Hesitant Hearts

Kili Durin x Soulmate!Reader (Part 4)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

warnings: tragic backstory, mentioned abuse (not graphic) alcohol, running away, reader is depressed, abusive ex

word count: 2.9k

a/n: thank you to all who sent me messages encouraging me to continue this! I have so much love for this story in my heart, but no time to actually write it haha anyway, shoutout to @crackedpumpkin who has been my backbone for this part and will be just as important for the next couple I'm sure.... Anyway enjoy this next chapter, I've already started on flushing out the next one <3

Kili hadn’t been back to the tavern since that night. Honestly, you were missing his presence; you didn’t realize how much safer he made you feel when he was there. Roland had been true to his word and not shown up again either. It felt a little bit like you weren’t really there, like you floated from one day to the next, never actually taking anything in- just existing. 

Last week, Brant had told you he thought you were ready to take over the tavern fully, you immediately turned to Kili’s stool to celebrate with him and felt your heart drop into your stomach when he wasn’t there smiling along with you. 

That’s been happening a lot recently, Kili’s absence has become a lot more noticeable as the days go by. Once you were able to put aside your fear and hurt, all that was left was longing, and that scared you in an entirely different way.

You swore never to let your heart be controlled by anything but you ever again, you had made the promise to yourself on a cold dark night huddled by a fire with nothing but the stars over your head. Your life in Bree was not a pleasant one, daughter of a merchant whose wife had died when you were just a little girl. There wasn’t much love between the two of you but your father did his best to provide for you and the time came that you ought to have started looking for a husband he did what he thought was right.

By all accounts the man he had promised you to was not a bad man, he was well off and made good conversation. He was not an ugly man and he took the time to get to actually know you. You did not want to get married, not then. You had hardly explored the world, you had no interest other than what your father had been interested in. You wanted more, you wanted to be more. But your father had insisted. “It’s how it’s done, girl.” He had said. That was that. Three moons later you and Ricard were married in the church, nobody in the seats but his mother and your father. 

 It wasn’t exactly a happy marriage but it didn’t compare to some of the nightmare stories you had heard from the other ladies. You had heard of course the stories of women whose husbands were nothing but useless drunks. Who raised a hand to them regularly and kept them under lock and key. Your marriage was not a nightmare, and you forced yourself to be thankful for small miracles.

Until Ricard had become the very type of man you had feared. He controlled everything in your life. You didn’t leave the home you two shared, after all, why would you need to when he provided everything? He didn’t like when you spoke, it seemed that when he looked for a wife he wanted a maid instead. You warmed his bed and cooked his food and turned a blind eye when he came back smelling of another woman. He had trapped you, stripped you of the vivacious young woman you had been.

One day you had had enough, you don’t even really remember what pushed you over the edge, just that one night after he had drunkenly stumbled into bed smelling of ale and other women, you had grabbed a pack that you had stashed under the floorboards and ran. You didn’t stop running, not when you found yourself alone in the woods, or when the sounds of wolves and wargs alike haunted your dreams. Not when you were given dirty looks in the towns you passed through.  And certainly not when you ended up in King Thranduil’s palace staring down the elf with all the disgust you could manage. You hadn’t meant to stumble into the elven kingdom you had been walking for weeks, months? You weren’t sure anymore. You had no destination in mind just a goal: get as far away from the life you led and anyone who knew you when you lived it.

Walking through the woods while it was dark was admittedly, not your best idea but you had lost any sense of what was a good idea a long time ago. There were no good choices, only ones that kept you alive and ones that killed you, nothing else mattered. 

A pack of Elvish guards doing a patrol to keep the spiders at bay had seen you, a human woman looking worse for wear trekking through their woods. They had grabbed you and not listened to your pleas as they dragged you through the forest and into the King’s home, throwing you down to your knees right before his feet.

You didn’t speak Elvish but the quick and ruthless exchange of syllables from those that surrounded you made your hair stand on edge. 

The Elven king stood tall before you, “You’re far from home.” It wasn’t a question but you knew he wanted an answer.

“I am traveling to meet my kin in Dale.” you paused. “Your Majesty.”

“Alone?” He raised an eyebrow at you and curled the edges of his lip into a sneer.

“I have no family left to escort me. I must meet my Uncle in Dale.”

“Well then, allow us.” He turned his back and waved his hand. Seconds later your arms were grabbed with an iron grip and you were once again being dragged through the halls of the King. 

He had a pair of guards ‘escort’ you to the edge of Mirkwood. Before they released you back into the wild, on the other side of the forest, they stripped you of your little belongings and passed along a message from the King.

“If you’re seen again within King Thranduil’s kingdom you will not live long enough to see the inside of a cell.”

You were honestly surprised that you had managed to make it to Dale. You had no provisions, the clothes on your back, and only strength of will. 

It was nighttime when you stumbled onto the city streets of Dale. At the time, the town was still young, mainly filled only by the survivors of the Battle of the Five Armies and some families that had made their way to the city in the year that followed. 

Your legs felt as though they were made of lead. They dragged behind you as you stumbled from exhaustion into the center of town.

It was late, most lights were out and doors were locked. You didn’t know where the master of the town lived or if there even was one.

The sound of revelry caught your attention and in a small burst of energy, you followed the sound. You happened upon a tavern that was soon to be your home.

When you pushed past the doors all talking and laughter seemed to stop. Eyes shot at you and your torn dress, they filtered over the mess of hair on top of your head as well as the dirt on your face.

Everyone was still and then slowly, from behind the bar an older man stepped closer to you. His hair was speckled with grey and his shoulders were broad. If you had more sense you might’ve turned tail and run but you were locked where you were. Your legs refused to move but your heart refused to stop. You felt as if it would burst out of your chest.

The man reached a hand out to you and smiled. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself have a moment. One moment to let go, you reached out your hand and placed it in his.

He put a hand on your back and started to usher you to the set of stairs on the other side of the room. He gently guided you up the stairs and into an empty room.

“I don’t imagine you’ll want to answer too many questions so I won’t ask any. You can stay here for the night at least, get a hot meal and a bath.”

“Thank you.” Your voice rasped from lack of use, not having another soul to speak to for weeks since you were expelled from the Elven kingdom. 

One night turned to two, then three, and then a whole week. During that time you had started to help out, you had no money but wanted to return the kindness shown to you.

Eventually, you told Brant the basics of your story, that you grew up in Bree and managed the journey across Middle-Earth on your own in order to make a better life for yourself. 

“Well, you can start one here. It’s been a while since I’ve had decent help and you need a place to stay.” You nodded and gave him a hug, he patted your back, and thus began the next chapter of your life. 

Over the course of the next three years, you’d found a purpose, gained back some of the spirit that had been stripped from you, and carved out a handsome little life for yourself here, halfway across Middle Earth from the life you had once been imprisoned in. 

And now it feels as though you’ve lost it all in one fell swoop. In protecting your heart you may have lost the only person who would honestly take care of it. 

You still remember the silence that echoed after Kili’s departure. The sound of the doors slamming on repeat in your head. You fell to your knees and wept. You bared your teeth and held in a scream. Your heart cried out in pain, pain for a love lost, for the innocence it longed for, for you, for Kili, and for what could have been. If only you were a little braver.

That is how Brant found you the next morning. He descended the stairs from his own rooms above the tavern and saw the young lass he had taken a chance on, curled in on herself fitfully sleeping with tear tracks down her cheeks.

Sighing deeply he shook you awake and ushered you upstairs despite your protests.

“Lass, I’ve kept this place standing for longer than you’ve been alive, one more day won’t kill me.” He placed a single kiss on your forehead and you smiled for the first time in a while. Brant had filled the role of a Father far better than your own had and you were deeply grateful for everything he had done for you.

You thanked him and placed a similar peck on his cheek, sleepily shuffling off to your room and closing the door softly behind you. 

You yearned for a dreamless sleep but the Gods did not see fit to grant your wish. For weeks You dreamt of a love lost and slamming doors. Of drowning in your own sorrow and waking up in your bed back in Bree chained to a man with locks nobody but you can see. Ricard takes steps towards you, locking you in with his body, a cruel smirk spread across his face. 

You jolt up in your bed, sweat dripping down your face and a scream trapped in your throat. For a brief and terrifying moment, you don’t know where you are, you feel the phantom grip of his hands on your skin and his breath on your face.

You force yourself to stand and get out of the sweat-soaked sheets, quickly getting changed and fleeing the dark room that twists your mind. You amble your way down the stairs, Brant said that he could take care of everything and you trust him but it wasn’t fair to leave him high and dry, not for this long. 

You need to work, to push yourself out of whatever fog you’ve been in, just a few hours of not thinking about your own life, about your past or your present. Not thinking about the way your heart still twists when you don’t spot the shag of brown hair among the sea of people. You want to lose yourself in the rhythm of serving drinks and food. Take care of everyone so that you don’t have to do the same for yourself. 

The mindless thrum beneath your skin keeps you moving, you aren’t as bright as you normally are, no pleasantries fall from your lips and no smile falls upon your face. But you’re fast, and people respect that. No glass goes unfilled for very long and no surface is dirty. You fall back into the recesses of your mind and let the familiarity take over. 

You lose yourself in yourself and for one brief and terrifying moment, you realize that there is a longing deep within yourself to stay lost. To lock down your mind and your heart, to become a numb and mindless being with no purpose. 

Then his voice rings in your mind, his laugh fills your heart and his smile warms your soul. 

There might be a sense of peace in the numbness, but you would rather hurt for the rest of your life than give up the joy that he brings you, even if only through memories now. 

You don’t notice the group of men who walk through the door until one of them is standing right in front of your bar, he knocks his knuckles against the wood and your eyes shoot up to get a look at his face.

“Ah, My King, how are you this fine evening.”

Bard smiled at you and shook his head from side to side, “It’s just Bard, and you know that. None of this My King nonsense.”

“Sorry, King Bard but you mean too much to the people ‘round here for me to throw that all away. Anyway, what can I get you?” You send him a teasing smirk and wipe your hands off on the towel hanging from the loop of your skirt. 

“Whatever you have for supper tonight and a round of ales if you please?” 

“Of, course just you tonight?” You ask.

“No, As much as I’d love to spend the night indulging in simple pleasures there is always work to be done. A meeting with the Dwarf prince about the new training for our guards. Hopefully, we can put everything into place soon so that I can start eating dinner with my family again.” He caps his words with a laugh but you don’t hear it. 

The second the words ‘dwarf prince’ leave his mouth your eyes are scanning every face in the place. Desperately searching for just a glimpse of the man whose face you’ve only been able to see in dreams. 

You cast your eyes to Bard’s usual table, seated there are Captain Steinar, Bain two men you don’t recognize from this far away, and a Blonde dwarf who has two braids flowing from either side of his lips. 

You try to ignore the way your heart freezes when you realize that Kili has sent his brother, Prince Fili. How much damage did you cause? How much did you hurt him that he won’t even show his face? Will you ever see him again?

The thought alone of never seeing Kili again almost brings you to your knees. Nevertheless, you take a breath and smile at the King.

“I’ll have your food and drinks out to you as soon as I can.”

He nods and leaves some coins on the counter before pushing himself off the bar and walking back towards his companions for the evening. 

You load a tray up with five servings of fried fish and potatoes along with some bread and cheese and make your way over to the King’s table, placing the food down in front of each of them before returning back to the bar to grab their drinks. 

You load them up into your arms and take about ten steps toward your destination when the front doors are thrown open. They loudly bang against the interior walls and with them, a chilly gust of wind permeates the room.

It isn’t the cold wind that freezes your blood in your veins though, that would be due to the man who stands in the entrance. 

The man takes his hat off his head and looks around the room, locking eyes with you and you watch as a cruel smirk spreads over his face.

“Hello love, miss me?” 

The only sound in your ears is the shattering of glass and the rushing of blood.

How the hell did he find you?

taglist: @bunnybabe-babydoll@kokochanel111@shiinata-library@oneiratxxia10@targaryenteam @sunnysidesidra @shadowrose13-blog1-blog1 @staygoldsquatchling02 @whiteoutimp @spookydestinydonut @somethingabitspecial-blog @bandshirts-andbooks @buckyyyismahhlife @gh0stedddd

sorry if I left any out; if you'd like to be added to the tag list for future chapters please comment!

[daddyfordaeddy]

Pairing: king! Seonghwa x queen! f! yn

Word Count: 2804

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, smut warnings under cut

Genre: Fluff, smut, royal au, M for mature audiences

Summary: Your marriage to Seonghwa has been nothing exciting. But things change during his coronation ball.

Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), some praise, slight begging, pretty vanilla if i do say so myself lol

Written for @cultofdionysusnet's permanent event <3 took me a bit to get it down lol, and a big thank you to @arafilez and @sanjoongie for helping me out <3 i really wrote 1.5k prologue before getting to the smut and u can tell it got to me since the smut is very storybook like and not just filth lol

AND yes i know the irony of having a red themed banner when the title is blue blood but hey man i...have no excuse

-

Your palms are sweaty. It’s the first ball the royal family has hosted since your marriage to the then-Crown Prince, Park Seonghwa. And it’s the first social gathering you’ve attended since. You’re pretty sure the maids can see how nervous you are and you’re grateful the wine-red gown you’ve adorned for the occasion will cover any sweat marks or wrinkles you’re sure you will make.

You cannot even politely decline this event—not when it’s marking the start of your husband’s reign as king.

As the maids layer one last necklace, you shiver at the feeling of the cool metal touching your skin. The sparks flickering inside the red jewel catch your eye and you brush your fingers against it with a bittersweet smile. It was a wedding gift from your husband, the Park family blessed with fire magic. You find it ironic that such a cold-faced family can have control over such warm and bright magic, as well as red being their crest colour.

You don’t hate Seonghwa, of course. He’s been respectful to you, only speaking to you when necessary and otherwise leaving you be. The two of you share different, albeit connected, chambers, and he never enters your room without permission on the rare occasion he needs to.

But God, you wish he would at least smile at you so you don’t feel like a piece of furniture in your new home. While high up in nobility as the daughter of an Earl, you were no duchess and you were sure if you attended social teas you would be scrutinised. So you stick with counselling the civilians who cannot win an audience with Seonghwa and managing the household.

With another sigh, you send the servants away to gather your wits before meeting your husband in the foyer. You squeeze your eyes shut, breathing deep, before moving to pour yourself a small glass of wine.

As you down the bitter liquid, a knock sounds at the door. “YN, are you in there?” The honey-deep voice of your husband makes you jump a little.

“Ah, yes, I’m coming,” you call out, setting down the crystal glass and opening the door to see your husband standing just a bit too close to the door. You’re met with a faceful of his chest and you stumble back. “Ah–”

A firm hand wraps around your waist to keep you from tripping on your skirt and you can see the faint amusement on Seonghwa’s face. “Now, now, we can’t have you falling even before the dancing starts,” he chuckles, and you stare at him, unused to such a cheerful demeanour from him. His lips twitch as he holds back his smile. “Are you all right, my wife? You look a little befuddled.”

You blink up at him owlishly before realising how you must look and quickly turning your face away. “I’m all right. Shall we go down, then?”

Seonghwa chuckles low in his throat. His hand reaches up and brushes a few strands of your hair out of your eyes. His touch is soft and you involuntarily find yourself melting just a little. “Yes, let’s go and show off my beautiful wife.”

You laugh at that, pushing him away playfully. “This night isn’t about me, it’s about you…my king.”

Seonghwa coughs when you use his new title and it’s his turn to face away from you, although you can see his ears are red. “Yes, well. Let’s get going then. We can’t keep our guests waiting.” He offers up his arm for you to take, and you gingerly rest your hands on him with a small smile, keeping your eyes lowered.

Thankfully the distance from your rooms to the foyer isn’t far as the walk there is awkwardly silent. But as soon as you enter and all eyes are on you two, it’s like a button is pressed that makes you immediately at ease and you intermingle easily with your guests. Waiters are milling about serving a selection of wines, and you drink just a tad more than you ought.

It’s nice to mingle with the courtesans and landowners like you used to, and you make a mental note to start attending tea again. You were anxious about them for nothing—they’ve known you since before you were the queen so they aren’t forming any new opinions of you.

Giggling, you weave your way around the crowd until you bump into a firm back. “Hello, my wife,” Seonghwa hums, holding you steady with amusement dancing behind his dark eyes. “I see you’re enjoying yourself.”

You blame the lingering burn of alcohol in your veins for the following actions. You lean onto his shoulder, a dazed smile pulling at your lips as you look up at your husband. “I am, Hwa.” The nickname tumbles naturally from your lips without a second thought although Seonghwa’s eyes widen for a split second. “Are you enjoying yourself too?”

“I’ll excuse myself, you spend time with your wife.” You hardly even register the minister of defence’s words as you wrap an arm around Seonghwa’s waist and press a kiss to the shoulder of his uniform. “Congratulations on your ascent to the throne, your majesty.”

Seonghwa bows as best he can with you attached to him before turning to you to place both his hands on your shoulders. “Do you need to go to bed? The party is slowing down a bit so you can if you’d like.”

You shake your head, subconsciously pouting. “No, I wanna wait for you first.” Your head leans against his chest and you can hear his heartbeat pick up slightly.

“...Alright. Let’s close this up nicely, YN.”

You don’t really know what’s happening, but you smile and farewell the last stragglers as the time passes. The alcohol is almost out of your system, but you stay close to Seonghwa, not ready to let him go quite yet. His arm around your waist makes your heart flutter and you look up at him as he waves away the last guest.

“Why are you staring at me?” he murmurs without even looking down and you chuckle to yourself, gaze unwavering.

“I like you, Hwa.”

It feels like time stands still as soon as the words fall from your mouth. Seonghwa’s eyes find your own and neither of you move for a long second. “...Are you still drunk?” You would find his question offensive, but his tone is hopeful so you can’t find it in your heart to.

“No, not for this,” you shake your hair and before he can stop himself, Seonghwa brushes your hair out of your face again. “I’m not in love, not yet. But I can safely say I like you. Especially if you keep touching me like this.”

Something must have overcome Seonghwa in that moment because he leans in and his grip on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly. “Well, in that case. I like you too. And I could touch you a lot more if you’d let me.” He practically whispers the last sentence, his lips almost ghosting over yours.

You blink at him, a mirror to just before the party, and a smile grows on your face. “I’d let you.”

Seonghwa straightens up immediately, a light blush dusting his cheeks and he calls over one of the servants and whispers something to them. When the servant nods and hurries off, Seonghwa turns back to you, a wolfish grin growing on his face. “Shall we head back to our chambers, my wife?”

Heat slowly crawls over your face as you nod eagerly and Seonghwa chuckles and cups your face tenderly, placing a kiss on your forehead before taking your wrist and leading you up the flights of stairs in the next breath.

The two of you burst into his room giggling and hands clasped. Seonghwa kicks the door closed and pulls you into his arms, his face buried in your hair as he breathes in your scent. “...You’re sure you’re not drunk?”

His voice is small, and you smile to yourself at the sound of it. Wriggling your way out of his grasp, you bring his slender hands to your lips and press a light kiss to the tips of his fingers. “I’m absolutely sure, my king.”

Seonghwa lets out another deep breath, stepping closer and leaning down to gently press his lips against yours. You taste of bitter wine, but he seems to enjoy it, brushing his tongue over the seam of your lips and you eagerly grant access. The two of you deepen the kiss as he slowly backs you to his bed. When your knees touch the mattress Seonghwa breaks away, his lips swollen and spit slicked.

“Strip?” he asks, his voice gravelly and your thighs clench at the sound of it. You reach behind you, attempting to reach the fasteners but failing. Seonghwa chuckles, spinning you around. “You’re so pretty, YN. I’m glad I get to share my life with you.” His hand rests on your shoulder blade as he undoes each clasp with his other hand.

Suddenly, his lips touch your shoulder bone and you gasp at the soft feeling. “Hwa–”

“I’d like to bend you over right now, but you’re too precious to be taken so roughly on our first time. I want to cherish you like the queen you are.” Seonghwa mouths at your hot skin, his hands moving up and down your sides as your dress falls to the floor, leaving you in your undergarments.

Your hands instinctively come up to cover yourself but Seonghwa’s reflexes are faster than yours and he grabs your wrists, holding you in place. “Don’t cover up, my wife,” he whispers, leaning up to kiss you sweetly. “Let me love you like you deserve.”

You look at him with wide eyes, before nodding the tiniest bit. Seonghwa isn’t satisfied, an eyebrow raising, and you squeak out a quiet “yes”. As soon as the word leaves your mouth, his mouth is reattached to your neck and his hips grind down onto your hip and you can feel his hard-on pressing into your thigh.

“Hwa, please,” you whine, feeling a burning in your core.

“Mmh, love it when you call me that,” Seonghwa murmurs, his hand coming down to unfasten his pants and shoving them down enough to free his cock. “There’s something about you that’s so fucking alluring. All I can think about is fucking you so well all you can do is think about me just as much as I do with you.”

He shifts, adjusting himself so he can grind his cock against your dripping folds and kiss you at the same time. The softness of his lips makes you smile and you throw your arms around him to bring him closer to you. For a moment, both of you are too caught up in your kiss, but then the tip of his dick gets caught in your fluttering hole and you moan into his mouth.

“Gods–” Seonghwa groans, hips stilling. You can feel every time his dick twitches inside of you. “Are you ready? Please–” The last word falls from his lips in a whisper, as if he’s almost embarrassed to beg.

Instead of a response, you hook your legs around his waist and pull his hips flush against you, immediately driving his cock deep inside you. You throw your head back at the feeling of it spearing into you, Seonghwa dropping his head to rest against your chest. “Fuck, you’re so– so perfect for me,” he stutters out, his voice low and heavy with lust. “Want to stay like this forever.”

“Less talking,” you order, twisting your hips to try and get him impossibly deeper inside of you. A crooked smile pulls at Seonghwa’s lips, and before you can say anything else, he pulls back and starts hammering into you like it’s his last day in the kingdom.

You can hardly get words out, only whines and mumbles, his cock reaching so deep inside of you. With every thrust, he hits that perfect spot inside of you and your hands dig into the thick fabric of his uniform top. “Ah– Seonghwa, you’re splitting me apart so good,” you moan, breath hot on his neck.

You swear your guts will be rearranged after this, his thick cock stretching you so perfectly. With every thrust, you can feel your walls squeezing so tightly around him and your hips are shaking with pleasure. Seonghwa’s eyes are trained on the junction where his cock is driving deep into you, mesmerised by the glistening slick covering both of your thighs.

Without warning, his slender fingers travel down your body to press at your clit. A gasp rips its way out of your throat and you moan embarrassingly loud, your hips kicking up. “Seonghwa–”

He leans in, his hand still rubbing small circles on your clit, pressing his lips sweetly to yours once again. “Shit, Hwa, you’re too perfect for me. Treating me so well.”

Seonghwa groans and bites your shoulder. “You look so pretty on my cock, my wife. You’d look so pretty full with me dripping out of you. I should show you every day how much I love you, hmm? It’s what you deserve. A pampered life as my wife, the queen by my side.” His teeth sink into your lower lip and his fingers speed up their ministrations.

“Ah– I’m close Seonghwa,” you moan into his mouth, and you can practically feel him smile against your lips.

With one particularly well-delivered thrust, Seonghwa growls, “Come for me, YN.”

Without much further prompting, just a twist of his fingers on your clit, you groan, back arching and your cunt clenching around Seonghwa as you fall over the edge of your orgasm, your husband following soon after. Ropes of searing hot come shoot deep inside of you and you let out a long sigh at the feeling. Seonghwa rests his forehead on yours as his hips slow to a stop, letting your orgasms wash over both of you completely.

You let your body completely relax on the mattress, staring up at the canopy of the bed. When you were preparing for the party, the last thing you expected was to get your brains fucked out by Seonghwa, but you won’t complain. You breathe out and relax, bringing your hand up to brush your fingers through his dark hair.

“Feeling good?” you ask your husband, and Seonghwa laughs, tilting his head up.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s get my lovely wife cleaned up. I have to change the sheets in the meantime.” Seonghwa gets up, stretching a little, and you can’t help but stare at the sliver of waist you see. You can feel his come dribbling out of you and instinctively you clench your thighs although you know you must get up soon enough.

But before you can even make any move to, Seonghwa leans down and scoops you up, carrying you over to your shared bathroom. “Ah– Hwa–” you scold, gripping onto his shoulders. “My legs work!”

Seonghwa laughs, nuzzling into your hair. “Then I should fix that next time.”

You laugh and smack at his shoulder. “Hwa, no, I like being able to move.”

Seonghwa shakes his head but doesn’t respond, just turning on the faucet and sitting you down in the water. “Is this all right for you?” he asks, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Come sit with me too, Hwa. You should get to relax too.”

“Ah, but the sheets,” Seonghwa tries, but you grab the hem of his shirt.

“We can use my quarters, Seonghwa.” You stare up at him with pleading eyes, and you can see him hesitate. “Please, Hwa?”

And just like magic, your words break down Seonghwa’s hesitation and he sighs, unfastening his shirt and throwing off his pants. As he lowers himself behind you, your hand reaches back to steady him.

As the two of you sit in the warm water, you take a chance and lean back against his firm chest. You can feel him stiffen and your breath catches in your throat, but in the end, he just relaxes and throws an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You know, ever since I saw you on the wedding day, I was happy to have you as my wife,” Seonghwa hums, rocking you back and forth slightly.

You tilt your head up to smile at him sweetly. “And seeing you in your wedding robes looking every bit of a fairy, I was happy to have you as my husband.” Seonghwa leans down to press his lips against yours, brushing your hair behind your ear. You can feel his own smile against your mouth and your eyes flutter shut.

“Let’s stay like this for as long as we can.”

[nohoney]

dragon king bakugou who pillages a a nomadic tribe with his men. they cause chaos, taking what they deem valuable and leaving utter destruction until they’re satisfied with the damage. he happens to see the biggest tent that pitched up in the entire encampment and makes his way to it. maybe there’s gold in it, treasure, good wine or ale that will warm his blood, or weapons.

even better, there’s a woman in it.

you’re cowering in the corner when bakugou enters the tent, shouting a battle cry in his language. he slaughters the man that seems to be your husband if the matching circlets are anything to go by, deciding to ignore the fancy and luxurious looking chest and going straight to you. it’s too easy to lift you and put you over his shoulder, you yelping in surprise but seeming to have enough sense to not fight back. bakugou kicks at the head of your husband first before walking through his spilled blood.

he’s directing his men to loot whatever they can use as he approaches his dragon. the beast bows to him, a loyal creature that bakugou had raised since he himself was a child, waiting patiently as he climbs onto the saddle that’s mounted onto the dragon’s back.

“if you fall, i won’t bother to catch you so you better hang on.” bakugou speaks in the common language, one of four he knows and seeing if you understand. you nod your head and hang on tightly, practically holding him in a death grip.

he’s brought you back to his home, pushing you to a gaggle of maidens to get you cleaned up while he takes inventory of what was taken. he expects to hear some update about you; that you’re screaming or fighting back, maybe even crying.

he gets no news aside from the fact that you’re scrubbed clean, you’ve been dressed, and you’re put in his quarters.

it’s a few hours before he finally goes into the privacy in his room. you’re sat by the fireplace, a dragon egg sitting on a bed of warmed coal nearby that you seemed to be looking at before his presence snapped your attention to him. you’re being docile, bowing slightly when he approaches but it makes bakugou be on guard.

you could be one of those witches that plays soft but poisons him in his sleep.

in your lap, the circlet you were wearing before is held delicately in your hands along with some ripped up white cloth that he doesn’t recognize.

“my king,” you speak first, addressing him formally which makes bakugou wary of you, “thank you.”

one of his eyebrows quirks up in question, unsure what he was being thanked for.

“today was my wedding day… i was to be married to a man that was going to make me his fourth wife. i dreaded it for the last year, and i prayed everyday to the gods to intervene in my fate. but nothing happened and i—i was beginning to despair as they prepared me for the ceremony.” you speak softly, your hands delicately tracing the metal of the circlet before petting over the precious jewel at the center of the piece, “but the gods answered my prayers and you saved me!”

a wedding, that explains the amount of inordinate amount of treasure that had been collected.

bakugou is stunned, watching as you stand up to your feet, the circlet and the white cloth dropping to the floor. he realizes now that the cloth you had in your lap was in fact the dress you were wearing before; your wedding dress.

you had been dressed in a robe, colored a rustic orange but with gold details intricately sewn into the fabric. the robe bakugou’s mother had made for him when he had been crowned as the dragon king. you undo the belt of it and let it fall open, the heavy fabric falling off your body as you present yourself to him. the glow of the fire makes your body look heavenly and your eyes shine brightly with an adoration that bakugou had never seen before.

“i want to thank you. please let me thank you for saving me.”

you step to him slowly, kicking aside the circlet and stepping on your wedding dress, your hands delicately touching his shoulders as if testing to see if he would push you away. bakugou doesn’t, still observing you carefully as you invade his space.

“allow me to show you my gratefulness, my king.”

[totallynottinsel]

Thorin gets turned into a bunny and is humbled. That's it, that's the plot.

This was not how he expected his first year as King to play out. In fact, it was possibly the next worst thing to happen aside Smaug and the Battle. Surely this was Mahal's punishment for him for what he had done on the ramparts, for what he said. For how he treated his kin unlike how a true King would. Yet even if it was fair in the Makers eyes, it was utterly humiliating and cruel, to be placed in the fuzzy form of a rabbit.

He awoke that morning tired and numb, jarred from a particularly bad argument with Dís about what to do with the remaining hoarded gold and items. Thorin had made excuses as to why they should keep them for a while longer, but that did not fool his sister in the slightest, and only fueled her fire further. But he did not keep the treasures out of a sickness or greed, but a fading sentiment; the treasures kept were the last things left of their grandparents, mother, father, of Frerin, and he was not yet ready to let them go just yet.

A deep sigh left his chest as he stared at the ceiling as if something was there, till he gathered the energy to leave his bed. He dressed his robe over his tunic and headed for the door, but one step out a powerful pang hit his chest like a dagger, making him trip for hold on the doorway. He blinked, his vision growing unsteadily blurry, his head throbbing. The walls were beginning to spin rapidly with his uneasy breath, and there he was certain he'd be meeting his end. Dying from a cause he wasn't even aware of, just what he needed after yesterday. Poor Dís will think she had a hand in it, surely.

It was only when he heard the thump of his heart again that he knew his days would continue. But when he lifted his eyes he was startled with a strange new view of his surroundings---he could see all around him besides just by his nose. His nose... where was his nose? Not that he could see it clearly before, but now he felt it twitch upward rapidly with smells coming from rooms away. What in Mahal's great earth was happening to him?

He looked upward, now seeing everything was even more ginormous and open than it was before. Or perhaps he'd grown smaller? Very funny. If it was possible for him to roll his eyes he would've.

He scampered forward, now taking note of his large, fluffy arrow shaped feet, or... paws? Paws? Moving forward he finally caught sight of himself reflected in the old glimmering stone, and instead of Thorin Oakenshield he was met with a gentle creature, a bunny. He can't even recall ever seeing a live one before, and now he was one himself? Either he truly had died and had been reincarnated as a futile being or he was dreaming. The latter would cause far less problems.

Turning an eye---or both---to the pile of limp clothes laying on the floor was evident enough that he'd somehow been neglected to the form in real time. Why, was absent to him.

He tried to speak, though unfortunately no sound other than a half squeak was brought out of him. No talking, then. He tried standing but hopelessly fell straight to his back and flipped right over on his side. All fours it would be. His circular tail---oh, of course, a tail---wriggled. This was horrible.

In desperate need to rid himself of the cage he was homed by, he made way down the long hall with some promising speed. He needed---where was he off to? Kitchen, right. That could work in his favor, possibly, as he was still quite hungry. If he got lucky maybe he'd run across a servant who would offer him a bite, or throw him into the woods for the wild dogs to have. Both were valid options.

He didn't keep much track of how quick he'd made it or how much time he spent getting lost in his own home, but he entered the empty kitchen wearily, pointy ears upward for danger. Just when he thought it was relatively safe, he jumped at the harsh clang of pots and pans, and then a warm voice that made him shrink even lower.

"Oh, goodness. Who have we got here?"

No. No no no no no no---

"Didn't think they had mountain bunnies... not much of a dwarven favorite, I take it?"

Don't do it.

"Are you friendly, little one?"

He's going to do it.

"Up we go!" Bilbo's hands scooped underneath his belly, and lifted his light weight to cradle him in his arms. He stroked his soft black fur and, against his wishes---Thorin just about melted into the hobbit's touch like jelly. Bilbo's sweet laughter made his tail waggle again. "You are singlehandedly the most adorable thing I've seen in all my days. What's brought you all the way here?"

Thorin wished he knew the answer to that.

Much to his disappointment, Bilbo placed him back down and ran off to a corner of the kitchen. Thorin followed him curiously, and watched as the hobbit bent down to his level to offer him a leafy green of sorts. "Are you hungry?"

Well, it was better than nothing. He leaned forward, his nose bouncing at the scent; who knew a scrap of a salad could smell so good? He began to nibble on it and Bilbo seemed pleased with his efforts. He generously gave him a small bowl of cool water as well. Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain turned pet bunny for a hobbit who had no clue of his significance. He could imagine the stories years from now.

"Quite the marvelous coat you have," With a finger Bilbo gently scratched under his furry chin, which Thorin had no qualms of him doing so. "You'd fit right in at Bag End, wouldn't you? I'm sure you'd enjoy the grass and hills much more than a mountain and rocks." Bilbo's hand ruffled his belly and Thorin flopped over on his side as if he couldn't help it at all and was mercilessly pet. Someone might as well put a bow on his head and call it a day so he could accept his fate...

"Oh, well, good morning." A new voice came floating into the room. Dís. "Have you---" His sister rounded the bend and caught sight of him, stunned by his appearance no doubt. "Where did you get... that?"

"It just wondered in here... I haven't got an idea where or who it belongs to. Do bunnies like this live here on the mountain?" Bilbo asked.

"No, not unless Smaug enjoyed collecting them." She could only shrug. "What an odd looking one you are," Dís reached a hand to weave through his lengthy dark fur that had lines of grey stranding over, eyeing his white speckled paws and bobbed tail. "It would've been impossible for something like this to get inside here." He drew closer to her touch, as she found a spot to itch behind his ear. "The boys probably snuck this fellow in as a joke. Either for me or their uncle. I'm sure it'll want to go back outdoors."

He scrambled away from his sister's hold, taking shelter behind Bilbo, though she didn't seem bothered or aware of his feelings towards being booted out. "Speaking of which, have you seen Thorin? I've been looking for him but he's not in his usual spots. I'm getting a bit worried."

"Why? Is something wrong?" Bilbo lifted him back into his arms without much thought to it.

"We had a fit last night, and both of us said things we shouldn't have. I keep telling him he has to get rid of all that gold, but he brushed it off. I don't know why... I just," Dís sat herself down on a stool, massaging the bridge of her nose. "When I learned he fell to dragon sickness I was scared, I really was. I know he came out of it, and I'll be forever grateful and damn well proud of him, but some nights it gets to me. I want that gold gone, all of it with that good for nothing Arkenstone, for what it's done to my family."

Thorin sunk lower in on himself, his ears falling backward.

She moved the tears that slowly built in her eyes away with her thumb. "Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be weighing this all on you. But you know Thorin, he has his ways of dealing with things... so the only conclusion I've got is that if he's not here then he must've gone off somewhere."

"The forges, maybe?" Bilbo huddled Thorin's warmth closer to his chest.

"Already had one of the guards search down there," Dís shook her head, giving a glance to the bunny who she swore looked downright sad, if that was even possible. "I checked his chambers earlier but all I found was a sorry old pile of clothes in front of the door."

His chambers...

Suddenly Thorin was struck with an idea. With the trusty element of surprise, he leapt from Bilbo's arms and fell to the floor with a thump, gaining his stance and hopping to the door. When the two did not follow suit he jumped in the air continuously to get their attention, even adding in a spin or two.

"I think that drop scrambled it's marbles." Dís said.

"Or maybe it... wants us to follow it?" Thorin nodded to Bilbo who was surely thrown for a loop at the gesture. "Did you see that?"

"That I did... can't tell if I should be impressed or slightly horrified."

Finally, with their eyes on him he charged down the hallway, both of them rushing after in hopes it had something to do with the dwarven king's recent disappearance. Further and further they followed until they reached Thorin's chambers, who he himself unbeknownst to them slid through the crack in the door and urged for them to assist him to the desk. Bilbo pulled out the armchair and he bounced upward onto it, then to the desk itself. With little dexterity he had in his hands---well, paws---he nudged at the various collections of papers scattered around till he found one with a blank space.

He really needed to organize once he was back to normal. He grabbed his pen with his teeth and tilted his head sideways to get a better angle, and slowly began to write.

"It's writing!"

"By Mahal's hammer..."

It took him a good effort, but he managed a tilted scribble of his name.

"Thorin? It knows something about him!" Bilbo had a wide smile, in awe of the strange creature's abilities. Though Dís seem a bit more weary. Either case, it seemed to be working, so he started jumping upward again in hope.

"Where is he? Do you know? Is he alright?" Bilbo pointed to the pen and paper, standing clear enough that he was getting more worried himself. Something had to be terribly wrong if an unknown bunny was sending cryptic messages to them. "Go on, keep going."

Thorin nawed at the pen once more and spelled out a wonky 'me'.

Bilbo and Dís eyed each other open mouthed.

"I...," She looked between the hobbit and the little bunny. "Fíli and Kíli must've taught it how to do that."

"Teach a rabbit how to spell in fluent common tongue?" Bilbo raised a brow to her and she was left speechless. "Those boys are plenty smart, but I doubt enough to this degree."

"What other explanation do we have? The last time I knew, my brother wasn't a skin-changer. Unless he left that part of your journey out?"

"Can't say that's it... er, here, ask it---he? Something only Thorin would know." Bilbo said.

Dís gazed over to the bunny, unsure. Then with a tap to her chin and a grumble that signified her thinking, she came in closer. "What was mother's favorite color?"

Thorin got to work quickly.

'Mulberry'

Dís backed away, clasping a hand to her mouth. She turned to Bilbo for him to go forward. "I can't be sure until you try. Be specific."

"Right," He nodded, approaching the small bundle gathered by the notes, sinking into thought. "What... have I got in my pocket?"

"Not that specific!" Dís sighed, sounding uncannily like Thorin whenever he was ticked off. Apparently the apples really didn't fall too far from the tree, or mountain.

"Just trust me!"

What have I got in my pocket? Thorin repeated in his head, scrunching his nose and thumping his feet trying to decipher; it could be anything under the sun. Sun, yes; flowers, gardens, trees...

'Acorn'

"It's him! Its---it really is!" Bilbo cheered, but his smile was soon to fade to a blank slate as he continued the realization that, in fact, Thorin had somehow become a bunny. The bunny that he cuddled and held dearly and fed greens to just moments prior. "Oh, oh goodness," Admittedly, he went a bit pink in the face.

"Thorin? I can't believe this," Dís hovered her hand over him, and he nudged his head to her palm. "Leave you for one night and you get yourself turned into warg food." Hearing that he tried nipping at her fingers. "Yes, that's my brother in there. Still cross with me, then?"

He wouldn't be if she stopped poking fun, but that was far too long to write out, so he settled for 'no'.

"Oh, good." Dís was relieved of the latter nights weight. One look to Bilbo, on the other hand, had him looking like he'd seen another dragon barge through the walls. "Bilbo? Are you still with us?" She waved a hand across his eyes.

"Yes, yes!" He shook his head and escaped his quiet daze. "Just... getting a hold on whatever is happening. Ah, sorry for.... you know, earlier." He addressed Thorin, unable to look him in his oddly round (somewhat soulless) eyes.

"From what I saw, seemed like he enjoyed it." Dís cracked a grin, and Thorin lowered his ears backward with endearing anger. It was a bit hard to be intimidated by a fluff ball. "Saw that tail of yours go full speed, don't deny it." She was met with a pen chucked her way not to gracefully. "Even as a bunny you've got an attitude..."

Bilbo decided to change the topic to spare his embarrassment and Thorin's pride from more hits. "Should we tell the rest of the company? I hardly think they won't notice he's gone, at least not after a while."

"Well, what do you think?" Dís asked her brother.

'yes', Thorin wrote. The more that knew of his... issue meant more possible chances of fixing it. Even if that also meant he would be laughed at---which he knew he would be---and ridiculed, and poked at...

"That settles it then. Get your little legs hopping," Dís waved towards the door, but Thorin stayed put, lifting a paw to Bilbo. "Thorin! You really are spoiled, aren't you?"

"What does---?" Bilbo hardly had the time to finish when a pint of black fur hurled itself to his arms. If he was going to be this way for long, he may as well take advantage of it. Thus, he cozied himself to the hobbit's chest. "Oh, er... I suppose that works."

"Don't know who's still here; Dwalin left with a few of the guard to look for you after he saw how worried I was, and as for Fíli and Kíli----they offered to search the mines. Something tells me they just wanted an excuse to play around down there." Said Dís. "Keeping track of you lot is going to send me to an early grave. Thorin? Are you listening?"

Thorin, in fact, was not. Not purposely of course, despite what his sister would believe regardless. He had drifted off to a quiet slumber through their walk, warmed by Bilbo's gentle hold and soothed to rest by the beat of his heart. He remembered their embrace at the carrock, what it was like to be so close again, and how it seemed to fill a gap still wounding inside him. Bunny-curse be damned, he wouldn't let Bilbo slip away from him again.

"I think he's asleep." Bilbo smiled at how his tail moved on its own as he dreamed. "Or pretending to be."

"What do you mean?"

"You two are quite the pair," Said Dís.

"Oh, come now. I've seen the way my brother looks at you, from the very moment we met I could see he was taken by you. Haven't seen him smile as much as he did with you around in years."

Bilbo almost objected to her words, but let her continue.

"He's never been too keen on... 'putting himself out there', so to speak. Couldn't stand still whenever our father brought up marriage or something of the sort. He put his duties first, he always has, and I didn't push him to go any other way if that's really what he wanted. But over time I could see he wished for the kind of company I had with my husband, or his joint of old friends getting giddy with all the ladies in Dale. The time was just never right, till he went off with you. He was... is different."

Bilbo wasn't sure what to make of that. "You really think so?"

"Do I think so? The day I got here he talked my head clean off about how much of a valiant warrior you are and as well about your ears!"

"My what--?"

"Wouldn't think there was a whole other 12 dwarves the way he went on." Dís laughed fondly. "I'm just happy to see he's opening up to---" Suddenly a loud boom came through a hallway towards their side, smoke oozing out. After the initial blow settled they charged for the scene, successfully waking Thorin from his short-lived nap and most likely souring his mood more. The smoke was too thick for them to get a glimpse of what had happened, but the answer soon came bolting towards them.

Fíli and Kíli, completely soot covered from head to toe, swapped their cheeky grins for dread when they saw their mother. "I wouldn't go down there if I were you." Kíli hacked the remaining smoke stuck in his chest back up, prompting Dís to start fussing over him. "Mum! I'm fine,"

"You are not! You'll get sick rolling around in all that coal, awful for you." She ran her sleeve over his face as he tried squirming away. "Stand still!"

"Let's just say one of the mine carts won't be in service any more." Fíli murmured over to Bilbo, then directed his attention towards the creature in his hands. "Oh? That our dinner for tonight?"

"What? No!" Bilbo backed away clutching Thorin to his chest, who chirped in distress. "Hands off!"

"Whoof, alright, I was just asking." Fíli raised his hands up.

"Don't even think of putting him in a pot, that's your uncle right there." Said Dís.

The boys, for once, were quiet. "Ouch, I know you and him are fighting, but that's a bit much, don't you think?" Kíli chimed in.

"I've heard him be called worse. Saying he's a rabbit is practically a compliment," Fíli said.

"That's not what I meant! He's---well... some help here, perhaps?" She turned to Bilbo, who sighed, but stepped forward nonetheless. They sat the boys down, after having them wash up a bit, of course---and began the ever strange road of explaining what had occurred that morning. From the argument all the way up to the kitchen, though the best way to get their point across was simply: 'your uncle has been turned into a little bunny and he may be stuck that way forever. Fíli, be prepared.'

The boys started laughing. Really, really laughing. Kíli found himself rolling on the floor. Well, that wasn't much of a surprise...

This was going to be a long day.

To be continued on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65097937

[clioerato]

No Upside Down AU Hawkins, 1985

Eddie finds Steve — bruised, bloody, and covered in cuts. He stares at the former King of Hawkins High in total shock and horror, but he can’t not help him. Steve doesn’t say much. Just mutters something about a fight with Billy. Eddie’s not buying it — not when Billy clearly tried to rearrange Steve’s face.

But Eddie figures it’s none of his business. He drives Steve home and, at the last second, decides to stay the night. Because the house is cold and empty. Because Steve is trembling and asks him to. Eddie says yes.

And then things get weird.

Billy shows up in the middle of the night, pounding on the front door and screaming things like “You’re mine, I’m not letting you go” and “You know who you belong to.” Eddie’s like… what the actual hell. Billy is not just angry — he’s obsessed. Unhinged. Raging.

Steve stands in the doorway with a bat like it’s the most normal thing in the world and somehow manages to scare Billy off. Later, Eddie, still processing all this, asks, “How the hell did you get involved with that drug dealer? He’s been totally losing it lately.” And Steve just blinks and says, “Drug dealer?”

Yep.

Billy’s been dealing. For a while now. Only what he’s dealing (and using) isn’t just drugs. It’s… something new. Something big.

Whatever it is, it messes people up. Makes them paranoid, violent. Like kill-your-best-friend-for-dropping-your-bookkind of messed up. Steve starts piecing it together — the mood swings, the rage, the obsession. Sure, Billy always had a temper, but this? This is something else.

Slowly, Steve and Eddie realize: Billy isn’t just a dealer. He’s popular. He’s at the top of the high school food chain. People follow him. People like him. Which means it’s only a matter of time before half the school is tripping on this new drug, and Hawkins High turns into a teenage warzone.

And no, they can’t go to the cops. Steve got into a fight with Billy — the police will write it off as boys being boys. Power struggles. Teen drama. Nothing serious.

No one’s going to believe Eddie. He’s already the town freak.

So Steve’s got a list of problems:

Save Max. Because even in this universe, Steve’s forehead may as well have “Mom #1” tattooed across it in neon. And Billy? Billy already beat Steve half to death — Steve doesn’t want to imagine what he’d do to a kid. So yeah, Steve might have to commit a little casual kidnapping to get Max out of that trailer. Which, legally, looks real bad: eighteen-year-old steals child. Not great.

Act fast. Billy’s popularity plus brain-melting drugs is a house fire — and it’s spreading. Fast. Steve doesn’t have the luxury of waiting for the cops to connect dots.

He needs Eddie. Because Eddie knows the local drug scene. Because Eddie lives in the same trailer park as Billy. Because Eddie watches people — and no one would suspect him if he starts watching Billy a little closer.

Try to reach Billy. (Not that Steve says this out loud.) Because... there was something between them. Calling it a relationship might be pushing it — Billy is a walking disaster of internalized homophobia and unresolved trauma — but something happened. And now? Billy’s completely lost in a violent swirl of want, hate, jealousy, love, addiction.

Steve can’t go to the cops and say, “I’m being stalked by another guy.” It’s Hawkins, 1985. That’s not how it works.

He’s alone. Still living in that empty house. Billy already broke in once. And who can he talk to? Dustin? What, trauma-dump on a literal child? Nancy? Oh yeah, let’s tell your ex you were kind-of-sort-of sex with Billy Hargrove. Great idea.

So he’s left with Eddie. And Eddie stays. They don’t get along perfectly at first. But over time, they start to understand each other. Steve starts to feel… something. Something warm. Scary. He’s falling. And it terrifies him. Because what if Eddie finds out he’s bi? What if he freaks out and leaves? (Yeah yeah, I’ve read a hundred fics where Eddie’s terrified that Steve will find out he’s gay. I want the reverse. I want Steve watching Eddie glance at Chrissy and thinking, “Damn. I’m screwed.”)

Oh, and throw in a conspiracy theory or two — just for spice. What’s with that weird government-funded science lab on the edge of town? Why are the drugs so experimental? And what the hell is the “Hawkins Upside Down Program – 1986”?

P.S. If you want Steve to have a something like full-blown bisexual crisis, let it be over the fact that he clearly has a type. And that type is drug dealers.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Heres an idea what if ford and his infant baby BOTH got sucked into the portal? How would ford cope with jumping across the multiverse while trying to raise his child?

I’m going to assume the reader is the baby, so this fic is obviously platonic from here on out.

The man gets grey stress hairs at like 23/25 (no clue how old he is when he got sucked into the portal but I’m going to assume for this)

Ford didn’t mind if it was just him that got pulled into the multiverse, he would’ve found a way to handle it but being in a multiverse full of potential dangers with you, his child? The man is doing everything he can to set you up to survive and one day escape the multiverse and go home, regardless if it’s with or without him.

Ford is putting you first and foremost as you were the future, his legacy and his protege.

It was a daunting task to not only try and survive the multiverse but also dedicate time to raising his own kid, it was taxing on both an emotional and physical level for Ford as he made sure you were kept warm and well fed as possible while leaning himself with little to nothing, but he didn’t mind because as long as you had everything you needed to grow and be strong, that’s all that matters to Ford.

You grew up traveling with bandits, learning to speak 13 languages, read ancient texts, become royalty when Ford was king of the finger dimension for a brief period of time, only for a seven fingered man to take the crown and becoming a wanted criminal in multiple dimensions before you were even twelve. Your childhood was far from a normal one as your memories of home were mainly from stories Ford told you about at night when you were both sat near the fire.

It saddened Ford to know that you viewed home a lot differently than you did the multiverse but he couldn’t blame you. You had near enough spent most of your developmental years running from dimension to dimension, aiding rebellions and surviving say to say that if you both were to ever get home, Ford knew you’d be out of your element as all you’ve ever known was the multiverse and him.

This thought occurred to Ford on many occasions that he blames himself for ever letting you get dragged into this mess because if you didn’t then maybe you could’ve grown up with Stanley and lived a perfectly normal life. You were robbed of a childhood you could look back on in fondness and Ford couldn’t help but believe himself to be the cause as he stays up to watch over you, seeing his child mentally grow up faster then you should be allowed for your age broke his aging heart.

Would you be ridiculed for being weird if you were to ever go home much like he was as a kid? If so then he’d much rather stay in the multiverse for your sake rather than his own.

You had been through a lot and seen more then a child your age should and while Ford will forever be proud of the person you had become. His only wish was that you got to at least experience a portion of your life back home before all this, just so that you didn’t look at everything so weirdly and so alien.

Ford knew that sometimes there will be moments where there’s a disconnect between you two, something he had to accept that as the truth instead of trying to logically fix it, and instead try to meet you halfway in a comforting manner when you start to think that you were too weird for home as you sat on the rooftop of the shack.

‘Won’t Mabel and dipper find me…odd?’ You asked.

‘No of course not sweetheart, they love you and see you as their cool older relative they can trust to keep them safe and happy and seen.’ Ford reassured you with a pat on the shoulder before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. ‘You’ll be loved, so loved my little sharpshooter. I promise.’ He adds as he sees you yawn and instinctively brought you into his side, once again watching over you as you slept peacefully for the first time in a long while.

While Ford hated that you had practically been raised in the multiverse but he couldn’t help but be proud of who you’ve become when you pointed out a flaw in his plans for the quantum destabiliser weapon that he had overlooked. You were going to be okay, Ford knew it.

[httpsserene]

let's go golfing — 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒 lando norris x fem!black!reader | carmen montero mundt. lily muni he. george russell. alex albon. smau. crack, humor & fluff. minor injury.

synopsis: maybe you shouldn’t be late to any event you go to, or bare minimum don’t make any bets you know you’re not going to win. having no hand-eye coordination is not great when you’re being forced to play golf

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. i’d like to remind everyone that the people asked for this hellscape! i wish i could've included the full twitch quartet, but because of the photo limit on tumblr...charles did not make the final cut 😔 the plot (if there even was a plot) damn near ran away from me—it’s more friend focused than lando x reader until the end! i hope you guys find this funny, otherwise what did i do this for?

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

georgerussell63

liked by lilymhe, mercedesamgf1, and 4,100,123 others

georgerussell63: off to a terrible start for golf day. my girlfriends “wife” is crashing the party, and my mates gf is already -4 after two holes 🙂

view comments

lilymhe: light work 💪🏼 no reaction🥱

user: not his girlfriend’s wife ☠️

➥ user: who does he think keeps carmen’s bed warm when he’s not at home???

alex_albon: welcome to watch mojo! and today we’re counting down our top 10 times our gf’s ditch us for each other 🤨

➥ user: and?

➥ user: what else are they supposed to do alexander 😀

y/ninstagram: put some respeCK on my name princling, or next time i see u its on sight 😡 im aiming the golf club straight at you

➥ georgerussell63: you can’t even hit the golf ball in under three tries, or aim anywhere near the holes

➥ georgerussell63: i think i’ll be fine

➥ y/ninstagram: 😟😐 i'll remember this george william russell, ur asking for it

carmenmmundt: george failed to mention that he’s +3 already

➥ georgerussell: like, literally nobody asked you to say that 😒

➥ landonorris: drag him !!! he doesn’t get to say shit about our wife 😤

➥ carmenmmundt: *my wife

➥ user: lmfaooo im 💀

alex_albon

liked by y/ninstagram, carmenmmundt and 3,431,543 others

alex_albon: ladies and gentlemen, introducing: *my* girlfriend 🤤✨

tagged lilymhe

view comments

y/ninstagram: we MUST stay focused sisters

y/ninstagram: gawd damn‼️ wifey could hit me with that golf club any day

➥ carmenmmundt: fuck the club, i’ll let her run me over w the cart🥴

lilymhe: next hole, i’ll show you guys what a proper stoke is 😏

➥ lilymhe: since our bf’s seem to underperform…on the golf course obv

➥ user: AYOOO?!!

➥ carmenmmundt: okay 😇

➥ y/ninstagram: why r my thighs wet rn

➥ user: dO THEY KNOW THIS IS PUBLIC

alex_albon: i’m at a loss for words

➥ landonorris: this is literally your fault

➥ georgerussell63: can’t believe you mate 🫤

➥ alex_albon: how is this MY fault??! whattddiddiddoo

lilymhe • 5hrs ago

view replies

y/ninstagram: idk y ur complaining? the cart is parked. on its side, but it’s parked😊

carmenmmundt: i think we’ve punished ourselves

alex_albon: should’ve left her ass at home like i said 😒

francisca.cgomes: idk even know why y’all let her drive the cart😨

y/ninstagram • 4 hrs ago

view replies

maxfewtrell: ur joeeee kingggg. ur joe king 😐

francisca.cgomes: i wouldn’t even trust u with the scorecard—but pop off !!! girl boss shit

danielricciardo: SO I HAD TO, GRIND LIKE THAT TO SHINE LIKE THIS 🗣️🗣️‼️💯

lando.jpg

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 3,862,431 others

lando.jpg: “i have the highest score out of everybody here! +26 up on y’all hoes!” - y/n

tagged y/ninstagram

view comments

lando.jpg: BRO SAID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING 🥶🥶🔥🔥🔥

➥ maxfewtrell: SHE SOUNDS FIRE 🔥 ON MUTE ‼️💯

lilymhe: SHE GOT A HIDDEN TALENT 🔥🔥🔥 KEEP IT HIDDEN 🔥🔥🔥

➥ alex_albon: no talent ✅ JUST STRAIGHT ASS 💯💯🗣️🗣️🔥🔥

georgerussell63: THIS IS FIRE 🔥 PUT IT OUT ‼️

user: SHE SPITTING BARS 💯💯💯 PUT HER BEHIND THEM 🔥🔥🔥

user: THE SILENCE IS SO LOUD WHEN THIS HITS 🗣️🔥🔥

user: WE STARTED FROM THE BOTTOM 🔥🔥🔥 NOW WE’RE DIGGING 🗣️🗣️🔥💯‼️🙌🏽🙌🏽

y/ninstagram: y u hurt me 😪

➥ carmenmmundt: i think you’re underrated, honestly &lt;; 3

➥ y/ninstagram: aw ty carmie :)

➥ carmenmmundt: I HOPE IT STAYS THAT WAY 🥶🥶‼️‼️🙌🏻🙌🏻

➥ y/ninstagram: bee-eff-eff-aur: be FUCKING for real 😒

y/ninstagram • 3 hrs ago

view replies

maxverstappen1: i don’t want to laugh—man who TF am i kidding 😹😹😹

alexandrasaintmleux: how THE fuck did u manage to give yourself a concussion??!

carlossainzjr: pobrecita😪 how 😭 terrible 😭 can you tell lando to come over when ur done

carlossainzjr: hello

carlossainzjr: niña i can see you reading my messages

landonorris

liked by carlossainzjr, mclaren, and 6,234,765 others

landonorris: thank you for all the wishes about y/n (not u carlos, you’re in time out). she only has a mild concussion, and verbally assaults me when i wake her up every two hours 😒 to make sure she’s alive 🤗

view comments

landonorris: god forbid i stop her from dying 😱

➥ carlossainzjr: heyyy be nice to her she’s in another world right now

➥ landonorris: u r not slick sainz. don’t expose our affair to my gf when she’s injured

➥ carlossainzjr: she won’t even remember this 🥺

➥ user: sir👁️👄👁️, this is a wendy’s drive through

➥ user: they know this on the internet 4ever right…?

lilymhe: this girl swung the club, missed the ball, and let go of the damn club no follow through

➥ carmenmmundt: it hit the ground and ricocheted back at her

➥ alex_albon: and she got knocked on the forehead hard asl

➥ georgerussell63: the noise it made was hilarious 😂 y’all should’ve been there

➥ user: geORGE WILLIAM????

➥ georgerussell63: i’m mad we didn’t get it on video smh 😔

© httpsserene - do not reupload. photos in header image are from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.