#a 'lady of colour' as she once called herself

[occidentaltourist]

Before Gentleman Jack: Emma Donoghue on Anne Lister and Eliza Raine

Bestselling author Emma Donoghue introduces Anne Lister (now often known as Gentleman Jack) and Eliza Raine, the real women behind her latest novel, Learned By Heart.

Who was Eliza Raine, and what was her relationship with Anne?

I wish Anne Lister’s first lover was just as famous as her, but Eliza Raine (1791-1860), shamefully mistreated during her long life, has been ignored ever since she died in obscurity. This fascinating woman – orphan heiress of an English East India Company doctor and his Indian ‘country wife’ – deserves attention not just for her beauty, her importance to Lister and her vivid letters, but for her outsider perspective on Regency England. Banished to the so-called motherland to be ‘Englished’ at six, with a sister she never got on with, Eliza Raine must have witnessed society from a uniquely critical perspective, and so I found it was her untold story that ended up as the centre of Learned by Heart.

Is Gentleman Jack based on a true story?

Yes, the two seasons of Sally Wainwright’s BBC/HBO series Gentleman Jack (2019-22) are not only gripping, big-budget period drama, but they’re based on archival documents. Wainwright somehow managed to craft the dramatic arcs of each episode from the daily minutiae of Lister’s five-million-word secret diary. I can’t think of another example of TV adaptation actually contributing to an archive in a virtuous feedback loop: Wainwright not only used a screenwriting award to fund scans of the massive diary, but the fandom spawned by her show helped inspire hundreds to sign up as Code Breakers (aka Lister Sisters) and do the comma-by-comma work of transcribing it. A smaller group of the Code Breakers also made it possible for me to write Learned by Heart, by transcribing and making sense of about a hundred letters between, by or about Lister and Raine.

[thehmn]

I finally got to watch Viften (Empire) and it’s such a fascinating movie. It was written by Anna Neye who also plays Anna Heegaard, a rich free black woman who’s dating the Danish governor of the island.

It’s sold as an absurdist comedy and I think there’s no other way to describe it. There aren’t any real jokes but you often end up laughing at the absurdity of it all.

It’s extremely honest about the horrors Danes put the black population through but thankfully it only shows it in quick flashes of art as seen in the trailer. I once watched a video where they explained why most women aren’t into slasher movies and why black people generally don’t rewatch movies about racism and slavery. It’s because the the horrors shown are very real fears and a fact of life so the only people who can really enjoy watching a woman get horribly murdered as entertaining are men and only white people can watch a black person getting whipped to death with cinematic lighting and have a fun night out. By showing the horrors in art they get to be clear about exactly what is going on without coming off as exploitative.

But it’s also very honest about the ways a society based on slavery fucks with everyone. Most of the servants at the manor are slaves except the cook who bought her own freedom years ago. She tells the housekeeper Petrine that some day she too will be able to buy her freedom and get her own slave. That’s right, the freed black people aspire to get their own slaves because that’s the sort of values a society like this instills in people. And Anna tries to be as nice as possible to her own slaves but doesn’t take her own success for granted and is more afraid of an uprising than her white lover and ends up doing some really horrible things to her slaves to keep them down.

It also touches on how people viewed being black or white back then. That it wasn’t all about skin colour but also status. That’s why all the white people treat Anna as one of them. She’s a rich, educated lady so of course she’s “white”. Even Anna express contempt at being called black because she doesn’t work in the field. The poor freed black people also call Petrine white because she dress and acts like a Dane. Not as in “you are pretending to be white” but as in you are white.

And hats off to the director Frederikke Aspöck. There’s a scene where a woman buys her freedom and they put on a symbolic slave auction where she gets up on the podium and bids on herself. All the white neighbors have come to witness it because it’s seen as this joyous day and they all clap, she’s offered to drink with them and she’s all smiles. The director managed to make the scene wholesome while highlighting the absurdity of it and all you can do is chuckle because what the fuck? The white people think it’s a good thing that she’s free but continue to keep and mistreat their own slaves, and she no doubt dreams of getting her own down the road. It’s very much depicted as institutionalized racism and not just “a few bad eggs”.

And I didn’t know where to put this but there’s a lot of interesting symbolism going on with Anna’s dresses. She always wears dresses that match the colors of the rooms she’s in, establishing her as fully part of the system, but as she begins to realize that the Danish state will never see her as fully equal her colors start to clash with her surroundings.

I watched it on Netflix and it has English subtitles so it should be somewhere for English speakers to watch if you feel so inclined.

[littlegingerperson5]

Piña coladas

Moodboard

SwitchEllie x SwitchReader

Warnings: aaalmost cheating ig, angst, fluff and smut😏, alcohol, scissoring on the beach bc that’s gay asff, fingering e! and r! receiving, oral e! and r! receiving, spitting, reader has a puthyy, lmk if I forgot some shit x

A/N: inspired by piña coladas by Rupert Homes. This was supposed to be a lil blurb but here we are ig x

As Ellie rinsed of her toothbrush and gave herself a quick glance in the mirror, seeing her plad pajama pants and white tank adorned to her body as she walked out the bathroom, rolling her eyes at your already asleep body as she climed into bed beside you, leaving her lamp on, considering the fact that she’ll be skimming through a newspaper for the next hour or so. (a habit she had picked up from Joel.)

She paused, for only a moment, admiring your pretty features and gentle smlie as you probably danced in the world of dreams, appreciating all the time you both have spent together, the memories, the laughter, the things you both had in common, the joy that she felt in your presence that has slowly started to fade, she felt guilty about almost resenting your presence, she didn’t hate you, you just never brought her that ecstasy that you both promised eachother at the start of this marriage, you both have falling into a lifestyle of pattern and predictableness, turning every day lifeless and a mere faded, dull colour on a once vibrant peice of art.

The guilt ate even more at her belly as she stopped on an ad, her finger tracing along the playful words that caught her eye, exciting her and scaring her at the same time, she shouldn’t be feeling this way about anyone, anyone other than her dearest wife. She battled with her emotions as she read the catchy poetry:

if you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain

if you’re not into yoga

if you have half a brain

if you like making love at midnight (oh god has it been so long since she’s done that with you, she missed it)

in the dunes on the cape

then I’m the love that you’ve looked for

write to me and escape

Any thought of you instantly left her mind, enthralled by this new character, such a burst of life, she knew it was wrong, but she knew what she was going to do regardless as she picked up her notebook and played with her pencil, spinning it between her fingertips as she tried to think of something just as flashy to respond with, gnawing at her bottom lip, butterflies dancing in her belly as the graphite trailed along the pale paper while she prayed that her years of song writing would catch this poets eye, giggling to herself like a school girl as she wrote:

yes I like piña coladas

and getting caught in the rain

and I’m not into health food

i am into champagne,

She rolled her bottom lip out and squinted are eyes at the parchment, nodding to herself as she continued:

i’ve got to meet you by tomorrow noon and cut through all this red tape

at a bar called O’malley’s

where we’ll plan our escape…

The day dragged on as she waited for her new found love, reeking of her best fragrance and cigarettes as her foot tapped at the hardwood floor of the bar that was littered with dull lighting and strangely, Irish accents. She huffed as she straightened out her white button up, freezing like a deer caught in headlights as the main door creaked open, her heart stopping as her eyes locked onto a curve of lips that she knew far too familiar, it was her lovely lady.

As you trail forward her smile mirrors yours as she awkwardly jokes out “aw, it’s you” you both can’t help but laugh at each other’s situation as she pulled you in, closing her eyes as and breathing deeply as she placed a gentle peck on your forehead and pulling back, her huge smile taking up most of her face as she eyed you, her eyes slightly concerned “i never knew” she confesses, her hands on each of your arms.

You recognise her anxiety, “what you say we get a drink baby?” you say, your heart swelling at the sight of her happy smile returning “y- yeah I think that’s a good idea hunny” she says, interlacing her fingers with yours as you both walk hand in hand up to the bar, sitting besides on another, palms still touching as you both watch the middle aged red headed woman walk towards you “what can I get for the lovely couple” she smiles, her eyes lighting up at how you both compliment each other “two piña coladas, please” you order as Ellie laughs at your attention to detail…

After hours of talking and drinking, the bar has cleared as the hours ticked on late into the night, while the barkeep ‘Annie’ you learned after you and Ellie chatted to her for about an hour, telling her the story of how you both came to be where you are now “and and scene” Ellie bowed, one hand still on your thigh while she sat on the wooden barstool as if this was one big play, making you giggle, both of you clearly too tipsy for your own good as Annie tried to shoo you both away, growing impatient considering that she should have closed half an hour ago.

“alright you two, I think you both best be on your way now, it’s almost midnight” her fiery, curly hair sways as she tilts her head towards the clock “oh, yeah” you giggle “s-sorry Annie” you say, your speach impaired from the drink as Ellie leans forward and slides a twenty towards Annie “juuust lemme get that bottle of champagne” reminding you of her poem again as she points at the dark bottle on the top shelf as she turns and winks at you “then I’m DONE” she promises with a light slap to the Oakwood.

Annie sighs and stuffs the twenty in her bra, rolling her eyes and spinning on her heels, reaching up and grabbing the neck of the bottle, placing it in front of her as Ellie’s face lights up, her grin only dropping a little as the woman speaks “now get the fuck out my bar” she smiles sweetly as Ellie stands up, back ramrod straight as she salutes her “sir yes sir.”

She laughs as you mirror her actions, laughing to yourself as Ellie watches you with so much love in her eyes as you struggled to hold your laughter in while speaking “ss-sir yes sir” you even stomped your foot for special effect as Annie shooed you both while Ellie’s arm wrapped around your waist, wanting to steady you but mainly just to be closer. The alcohol was making her clingy and other things..

Both of you stumbled out the bar, gasping as the freezing droplets of water hit you and your wife as you snuggled towards eachother, Ellie taking the lead and guiding you to where you both are heading, her accessorised fingers gripping the icy cold neck of the champagne bottle and your waist symaltainuously, her cold thumb dipping into the side of your waistband and running along your flesh and making goosebumps appear as she neared the taxi she had her eye on.

You gripped the cold handle and ushered her into the car, stepping in after her and closing the door besides you, relaxing as the warmth of the car emerges you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, Ellie’s voice fading as she told the driver where to go before she leans back and grips your thigh lightly bringing you back to reality as you squeeze them together and smile at her lazily, your face saying exactly what you want.

The wet haired girl just rubs circles onto the bare flesh of your thighs that peeped below your skirt “patience my love” she whispered to you, kissing you sweetly, pressing her pink lips to yours and just holding them there, feeling the plush of each others mouths against one another, making your face heat up as her hand slides between the plush of your thighs and squeezes softly, making your clit dance as she lays her head onto your shoulder, the smell of alcohol filling your nostrils as she drifts off while you stare out the window, watching to wherever the car is heading..

“Here’s your stop” happy blonde says, pulling you out your daze “a bit late for a trip to the beach don’t you think?” she asks.

You notice the full moon shining over the dark sea and the stars that littered across the sky, mirroring the sand that was thrown across the surface “uh” you paused.

Gripping the auburn headed girls shoulder “Ellie? Ellie?” You shook her gently, stirring her awake, her radiant face smiling up at you from your lap “yeah babe?” “we’re at the beach?” her body springs up, looking out the window “yes. yes we are” she laughs holding both her arms open at the sight in front of her “cmon baby and grab that” she tilts her head towards the bottle as you pick it up while she pays the lady “thank you” you both chirp before stepping out and closing the doors.

You watch the car drive off as Ellie’s hand meets yours again “cmon mama” she says in a love loving tone, watching the waves as she walks you down to the shore, it looked so pretty like this, it was just you two and the sound of the waves crashing.

Almost instantly Ellie’s lips are on yours, as she unbuttons your blouse, your hands landing in her hair as her arms wrap around your waist dragging you on top of her as she lands on her back in the sand, your knees on either side of her waist, as you both leave messy kisses on each others necks “fucking love you” she mutters, her fingers sliding into your panties “fucking love you too” you speak into her collarbones as she slides her finger along your dripping slit.

making your hips buck towards her as she grips the back of your neck pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, you slide your tongue into her mouth, dancing with the pink muscle as she rubs light circles into your clit, your eyes close, focusing on the feeling she’s putting on you as she sucks on your tongue and picks up the pace against your bud.

You pull away, and nuzzle into the side of her throat, your body writhing on top of her “ellie” you whisper “hmm?” “im gonna cum” you murmer into her neck “imgonnacum” your voice getting higher, your hips jerking as she pumps her finger inside you a few times before coming back down to your sensitive bud, your face pressed into her shoulder “d-don’t stop!” you squeal, your legs spasming as you palm her chest, your whole body on fire as you clench around nothing, squeezing so tightly as your teeth sink into her shoulder, making Ellies hips buck and her squeal in pleasure from the pain as you cum, your release dripping onto her abdomen and soaking through her clothes.

You breath, in and out through your mouth, catching your breath, your face hot as you speak, desperate to see more of her “guess we gotta take this off huh” Ellie’s lip tilts into a little smirk as you unbutton the shirt kissing the new revealed flesh with each undoing, one of her hands in your hair as your look up at her bare chest as your lips finally meet the soft leather of her belt before you unclasp it, your knees in the sand as you make home between her legs.

You lean forward angling your hand into her underwear as one hand lands into the slightly cold sand besides Ellie’s auburn hair as you avoid her clit and push one finger into her soaked entrance “f-fuck baby” she says through a tight throat “ffuck” both her hands wrap around your wrist as slide you glide in and out of her slowly.

Listening to her whimper as you messily lick around the oh her lips formed before spitting into her parted lips, watching as it drips down her tongue and then down her throat with each of her gasps that are raising in pitch urgently as you hit that spongy spot inside her.

Her brow furrowing and her eyes watering as her nails dig themselves into your forearm, her hips jerking as you push a second inside her warm plush cunt, your voice mixing with the squelches of pussy “aww you can take it mama” you reassure her and she just nods, the sand mixing with her hair as her warm tears runs down her face “y-yess mama g-unh please let me cum”

“hmm” your thumb comes up to play with her clit as you press your bare nipples to hers while you lick up the front of her throat, up the soft skin of her chin until you mouth is on hers while you speak “cum for me” against her lips.

Her back arches against the beach as she chants “yes” over and over while you continue to pound into her walls, them crushing your fingers “m-ama!” she squeals, squirting all over your fingers and falling limply, her head lulling to the side as her hands fold onto her belly, smiling lazily to herself with her eyelids half closed, high off your touch as you finish undressing her limp body and yourself, tossing the material to the side to lay in the sand.

Her heavy eyes watching as you slot yourself in between her legs, holding your eyes on hers as you let a ball of spit drip from your tongue directly into her thumping clit, making her gasp as you lower your centre against hers, her gentle moans mixing with the soft swooshing sounds of the waves hitting the shore,like music to your ears.

The gentle breeze making your nipples stiffen against your chest as the air leaves your body, the feel of her warmth against yours making you huff out shaky breaths, she felt so fucking good against you, your eyes watering as you wrapped both your arms around her thigh that was pressed against your torso, your cheek pressing against her calf as you placed soft kisses on the skin there while you glided back and forth into her.

Watching the oh shape her mouth formed as your bodies moved in tandem, slipping and sliding against eachother, making your wife feel so good, “e-ellie” you whisper a warning at the feel of her clit dancing against yours “me too m-uh metoo fuck” “mhmm” you whine picking up your pace, getting lost in how her freckled chest bounced under the moonlight with your movements, the salt of the sea filling your nostrils as your hips buck against hers, “don’t st-ugh” her face twisting in pleasure as her walls clamp against nothing, squeezing so tight as her legs spasm, kicking the sand, her chest trembling as her nails sink into the flesh of your hips “mommy” the gutteral moan that leaves your body at the name is enough to push her over the edge, her stomach spasming as she cums against you.

Her sensitive clit being beaten by you as tears leave your eyes and ellie’s name leaves your mouth, your whole body on flames as little spurts of liquid leaves you, making your body fall limp against hers, her heart beating rapidly against yours as you lay chest to chest, her palm resting against your back, both of your flesh kissing as you both pant, trying to catch your breaths “fuck, ellie” you laugh, in complete shock of how good you just felt, getting giggly from your high as you still feel her clit pitter pattering against yours softly “fuck” she just says back, weakly, in a daze “yeah” you laugh back.

You nuzzle your face into the side of her neck as her fingertips trace your body, peaceful in each others silence till you break it “what you say we go for a swim?” you whisper against her flesh and you can sense the smile that grows on her face “mhm” she hums, rolling over so now her toned body is above yours as she kisses your lips “good idea mama” she says, smirking and smacking the outside of your thigh harshly “Ellie!” you squeal as she stands up on shaky legs and sprints towards the water, you giggling as you chase after her…

Ellie’s back layed against the wet sand, hiding her face behind her hands shyly as you pulled her lower body into the cold water with you “mhm so pretty mama” you admired her porcelain skin against the moon as you held her hips just above the water, your tongue landing on her clit as you pulled it under with your mouth, the taste of Ellie and the salt water filling your senses as your nose hovered just above, allowing yourself to breathe as your tongue flicked harshly at her sensitive pearl, the water splashing as her thighs encased your face “ffu-god” she said through a tight windpipe “oh god” she chanted over and over her fingers in your wet hair pulling you closer, drowning you in her as you smiled to yourself, tilting your head to the side and sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves, the v-line on her stomach tensing up as her body moved restlessly.

The closer she gets, the thurther you drag her under, leaving the mark of where she once was in the sand as you your mouth seduces her just as a siren, only to drag her to the depths with you for your own pleasure.

Filling your mouth with water and lifting her narrow hips above the surface and letting the lukewarm liquid stream from your mouth onto her throbbing clit before landing a harsh spit of your saliva where your tongue once was.

You effortlessly slide two fingers inside her, one arm hooked around her leg, keeping her to you as her lower half dangles above the water, one of her legs laying limply in the pool as you pump in and out of her, harshly hitting that spongy spot inside her, making the poor girl sob as her delicate fingers wrap around your wrist.

Your eyes land on her leaking ones, watching the tears of pleasure roll down her blushed cheeks as she stutters “t-to much” she pleads for a break “too much yeah?” pulling out of her warmth, your gentle eyes flicker as a heavy handed slap lands to her clit making the pain shoot through her body and turn to pleasure as the plush of her thighs squeeze your hand.

Pulling her in with you as your cheeks hallowed, suckling on her clit, now only her head resting on the golden granules “fuck fuck fuck” she whispers as you nod against her, your thumbs rubbing soft circles onto her bare hips “dontstop!” She rushed out, her body tensing and curling in on itself as she tried to regulate her breathing with little gasps, both her hands in your hair as she trembled against the ocean “please” she begged over and over, completely gone from reality as the band in her belly snapped with a squeal of your name and her wet flesh squeezing the sides of your head and her fingers pulling at your locks, trying to get some relief as you continued to fuck her through her orgasm until you decided she had enough, pecking her clit, finally granting her the chance to breathe and pulling her thighs, picking her up till they wrapped around your waist as you palmed her ass.

Resting your head in the side of her neck and kissing the ticklish skin there as she slowly came back to reality “I love you so much” she spoke, her eyes closed and cheek pressing to yours as you echoed her words back to her “I love you too angel.”

You both just smiled contently, quietly feeling eachothers heart beat against one another’s “so much” you whisper, tears pricking at your eyes and finally falling, hitting her chest “hey, hey baby” she coos, gently grabbing your chin and making your eyes meet her green teary ones, her chapped lips parting as she speaks “I know, I know” she promises, placing soft kisses repeatedly to your lips as your breathing trembled. You calmed down a little and tried to kiss her back finally, feeling her smile against your mouth as the sun started to hit the bare flesh that you both shared.

“cold” Ellie muttered against your mouth, shivering at the temperature of the sea “oh yeah, lemme get you dressed mama” you stepped towards the shore, her body still wrapped around yours as you felt the sand between your toes and her body temperature regulate against yours, warming you up.

You tap her hip and her feet land in the sand as you pick up your blouse and slide it over her arms, kissing up her bare body with each button of the fabric till you peck her forehead and pull her white top over your body, her eyes watching you as you lay your skirt on the sand, sitting on it and beconing her towards you.

She nods, understanding you completely, without the need for words.

Her freckled face smiling as she grabs the bottle of champagne and sits onto your crossed legged lap, her knees at the side of your waist as her legs wrapped around you yet again, her eyes crinkle, smiling as she pops the cork off of the bottle and holding it to your mouth and watching intently as you take a sip “mmmh” you rolled your eyes.

She tilts her head like a bewildered puppy, her confusion only disappearing after she took a swig.

Her face twisting as she faked a gag “what did Annie sell us?” She laughed “diesel” you guessed, shrugging your shoulders and giggling watching as she still sips at it, smacking her lips “definitely diesel” she grins.

Digging the base of the bottle into the sand and pushing you down onto your back, the twinkle in her eye never faltering as you watch her grunt, rolling onto her back besides you, hip to hip, her fingers intertwining with yours “pretty isn’t it?” she asks as you, both of you slowing down, breathing in the smell of the beach as you watch the sun rise, lost in its beauty.

You tilt your head to face her “not as pretty as you” you poke her shoulder.

Watching the crimson appear on her freckled cheeks has your heart beating outta your chest, you can barely see her eyes she’s smiling that hard “cheesy” she giggles and kisses your shoulder “ugh you love it” you mock “i do” she whispers, mainly to herself as your hand reaches up and massages the back of her head, watching her eyes flutter close with a big stupid smile on your face “love you” she sighs against your shoulder “love you too ellie”…

@williamellieslilho @yourelliewillms @bready101 @moonalumi @heygrimace @elliesmama @pascals-doll @infiniteinquiries

[thesugarsoiree]

Of Winter’s Flame | CHAPTER FOUR

When Y/n arrived back in the King’s quarters she was confused, seeing a small dining table set up near the fireplace. Apparently her first supper was to be exclusively with the King and Queen, slowly easing her into the Targeryen family.

“The King and I have been pondering this subject since you left on your journey from Winterfell,” The Queen began after the second course was served, pleasantries and idle chatter out of the way, “but we have finally settled on it. In the coming days we shall throw a weeks-long festival in honour of your arrival.”

“Are you certain?” Y/n smiled, a bit taken aback by such a gesture.

“A great celebration for a great Lady.” The King said, taking a sip from his goblet. Y/n never knew anyone to be as frivolous as southerners, especially as frivolous as Targaryen’s. Such a large event should be saved for truly important occasions, such as a nameday or wedding, not the arrival of an estranged family member.

“I thank you, uncle, aunt,” Y/n tested the new title on Alicent, the woman doing nothing but offering a humble nod, “your kindness is unexpected given my fathers past actions.” Viserys sighed at that, Alicent’s pleasant expression dropping for a moment at the mention of Y/n’s father.

“My brother has made hideous oversights the past few years, and I hope that we may show that not all of your family is quite the same.” Viserys shook his head, a disappointed frown wrinkling his face.

“Yes, we shall appreciate the greatest gift the north has given us.” Alicent beamed, calling a servant forward. He handed her something he had been holding all dinner while dessert was being served, Alicent giving an ornately decorated box to Y/n.

“For you, my dear.” The Queen said as Y/n opened the box with a snap. She gasped, the case opening to reveal a shimmering necklace, adorned with black and green jewels the colour of which Y/n had never seen before. Her usual jewelry contained white diamonds and deep blue sapphires, perhaps the occasional blood-red ruby to honour her fathers house, but a green such as this was rare to find in the north. She felt the cool stones in her hand, watching the way the firelight reflected off of them in quick bursts.

“A welcoming present, we know that you shall wear it well.” Viserys held his hand to his chest, easing his breath as Y/n placed the necklace back within its case.

“This is the most beautiful shade of green I have ever laid eyes on, your grace.” She almost couldn't contain her girlish giggle.

“I believe that you will come to find that green is the most attractive of colours.” Alicent laughed, and Y/n laughed with her. The rest of supper was spent discussing the celebration which was to be held at a nearby forest, only the royal party joining while the small folk enjoyed an excuse to be drunk in the streets without reprimand from the Citywatch.

That night while she tried to fall asleep Y/n tossed and turned, body too excited to force sleep now. Y/n wrapped a shawl around herself, taking a lantern and going for a short walk. Her guards once again tried to accompany her but Y/n declined, taking Tohrren with her instead. The halls of the Red Keep were surprisingly quiet during the night, its darkness illuminated by the occasional torch. She would have thought the Red Keep was far more busy during the night than Winterfell, but it seemed just the same, with no one up but the guards who stood watch for their Lady’s and Lord’s.

She often found herself on these walks, strolling alone with her thoughts and without duties to attend to for the day. It was a moment of calm; a moment of peace. This time, her peace was interrupted. He was like a shadow against the wall, Y/n didn’t realize he was there at first, looming like a scorned specter. She caught a glimpse of him in the corner of her eye, the current area of the hall darker thanks to its unusually spaced torches. She was left with only her flickering lantern to illuminate the frightening figure, something blue glinting briefly in the light, like a fire of warning.

Y/n gasped, Tohrren standing on guard, and whipped herself to face him. He was leaning against the wall, sharp features aggressively outlined in the dim lighting of her small fire. The shadows moved against his well defined face, and although there was not much light the darkness filled out the rest of him for Y/n to see.

The Queen was right, green was the most attractive of colours, especially on the one-eyed prince, for he wore green like he had never worn another colour in his life. They were nightclothes, light and airy, his white linen shirt halfway tucked into deep green trousers. His hair was pulled back into a loose braid, rouge strands framing his face and the smirk that held firm on his lips.

“My Lady Y/n.” His voice was a smooth timbre, soft in tone as not to echo through the empty halls. He stood from the wall and approached her with confident strides, taking her available hand and putting it to his rosy lips.

“What a pleasure it is to finally meet you.” He leaned down into a bow, gently kissing the skin on the top of her hand. Y/n was at a loss for words, entirely caught up in the sudden meeting and sudden attraction to her estranged cousin. He looked up at her with one eye, the other covered by a soft eye-patch with subtle hand-stitching on it; no doubt his mothers work.

“Prince Aemond,” Y/n curtsied, finding her manners, “I did not expect to run into you so suddenly, I was merely clearing my head before I slept.”

Aemond stood to his full height, a head taller than the girl in front of him, and chuckled, “I find I have the same problem during late hours, perhaps it is a trait we Targaryens share, hm?”

“Perhaps, I have not known my uncle to wander about Winterfell as I have.” She looked away from him, nervous at their proximity to each other with no one else around.

“Then I should hope we can accompany one another on our sleepless nights, would you care to walk with me?” He offered out his arm, cool lavender eye unwavering in its gaze. Y/n looked down at his arm, taking it with hesitance but smiling nonetheless.

“Of course, your highness.” She said as they began walking, silent at first. Tohrren was close by her side, still on edge although trained enough that he did not attack unless instructed.

“So, I hear that you arrived yesterday, correct? I apologize I was not there to greet you, my mother has taken it upon herself to make sure you are settled before you join court.” Aemond commented, taking her down another stretching hallway.

“I am glad that the Queen has such a fondness for me, I would not want to be one in her bad graces.” Y/n breathed out a nervous sigh, holding tighter onto her lantern.

“You’re smart, being one that the Queen likes is always favourable. I have heard that my sister Rhaenyra also holds a certain appreciation for you.” He uttered his sister's name with less love than she expected.

“The Princess did visit me as a young girl, that is true. She will make a fine Queen one day, and I hope that I shall be in her good graces as well.” Aemond tensed up at the mention of Rhaenyra ascending the throne, mouth twitching subtly.

“I’m sure you will be.” There was silence for a moment before he spoke again, “You are more northern than I expected given your parentage.” He hummed, looking down at her.

“So I have been told. I respect my Valyrian blood but I do not respect who gave it to me. I was born into the ways of the north and I shall not forget them simply because I am here.” Y/n said resolutely, furrowing her brows as if to challenge anyone who would suggest otherwise.

“Loyalty; a trait of the Starks.” Aemond grinned in a sort of childish way before speaking again, “It is getting late, my Lady. I do not wish to keep you for long, I can walk you back to your chambers.”

“Of course, my prince.” Y/n agreed switfly, leading him back to her room. Her guards were on edge as soon as they saw her arrive with the prince, stiff and unmoving save for their eyes which trained on him.

“Good night, my Lady.” Aemond bowed, kissing her hand again.

“Good night, my Prince.”

[milfsloverblog]

Oooh. How about a fic where the reader gives Brienne her favor at every melee and Brienne is just clueless

Tokens of Devotion

Brienne of Tarth x Fem!reader

A/N: I started writing this so many weeks ago, sorry it took so long anon! I hope you’ll enjoy what I did with your request, it was a lovely idea!!<3

Brienne could hardly believe it the first time she’d seen you waving a ribbon at her, calling her name in the hope of catching her attention.

“Me?” She mouthed, pointing at her breastplate.

“Yes, you!” You nodded and waved the blue ribbon more vigorously.

The woman hesitated. What if this was some sort of sick joke? What if once she’d get close to you, the whole crowd started laughing at how much of an imbecile she was for thinking a lady would ever give her, Brienne the Beauty, her favour.

“Please!” You insisted, knowing the mêlée was about to start.

After a few more seconds of hesitancy, Brienne eventually made her way to you. She kept her head up and her shoulders straight, readying herself for the inevitable mockery.

“Thank you,” you said when she was finally close enough. “For a second I thought I would have to give my favour to another knight…And I really did not want to.”

The tall woman dared to look at you then and the beauty of her features nearly made the ribbon slip from in-between your fingers. It took everything within you to tear your eyes away from her face and tie your favour to her pauldron.

“I should be the one thanking you, my lady. I will fight for your honour.” The blonde said, letting her eyes roam on your face while you looked down at your working hands.

You knew it was simply a polite way to address you, but your heart fluttered anyway. Oh, to be her lady.

Your fingers lingered on the steel of her armour for a couple of seconds too long before you eventually pulled away.

“May it bring you luck.” You gestured to the ribbon.

“It already did.” Brienne said, giving you an awkward nod before walking away back to the field, her heart beating loudly inside her rib cage. Her very first favour. She would carry it proudly, and she would make sure to be victorious.

The mêlée lasted for over an hour, men falling left and right, some being disarmed and others simply yielding to their opponent.

“Yield!” Brienne barked at the last man standing, still firmly holding her sword in front of her.

It had been the two of them for a moment now, Brienne’s muscles burning and begging the knight to let go of her sword. But she wouldn’t give up, she didn’t want to disappoint the lady in the crowd who was rooting for her.

“I yield.” The knight spat the words out after another couple of minutes, being too exhausted to keep fighting even if it meant losing to a woman.

You loudly cheered when Brienne was announced victorious, louder than anyone else in the crowd did. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach at the thought that maybe your favour had given her the strength to win. Not that you doubted she would have won anyway.

Brienne removed her gauntlets and her helmet, slicking her short blonde hair back before she made her way over to you again.

“I knew you would be victorious!” You said excitedly, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress to prevent them from reaching for the tall woman.

“Well, I had to fight for both your honour and mine, didn’t I?” Brienne pushed a shy smile and offered you her hand to shake. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Thank you, Brienne of Tarth.” You smiled and gently grabbed her hand, bringing it to your lips to press a kiss on it instead of going for a simple handshake.

Brienne was left at a loss for words, her cheeks taking a pinkish colour as you let go of her hand. No one had ever done that before, certainly not a woman.

“Well, I suppose there will be people waiting to celebrate with you at the tavern. Until we meet again!” You winked at the knight, disappearing into the crowd before she could say anything else.

Brienne stood there for another minute, dumbfounded by the whole scene that had just happened until she was practically dragged to the tavern to celebrate.

She found that drinking did not help to forget the feeling of your lips on her hand, if anything it only made it worse.

When she showed up to the next melee a month later, Brienne wasn't expecting to see you. Not that she wasn't wishing to see you again; she simply didn't think you would come back for her. Why would you?

How wrong she was, she realised when she heard the familiar voice calling her name. There you were, a smile that reached your ears as you waved something that, from afar, looked like a piece of fabric.

Four long strides were enough for Brienne to be standing right in front of you, your heart once again starting to beat uncontrollably fast when you noticed that your previous favour was still tied to her armour.

“Well, will you start collecting my favours then?” You joked, showing her the piece of fabric that you were holding.

Brienne looked away for a second, desperately trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. She had thought about removing the ribbon from her pauldron, but couldn’t find the courage to do it. Not when she was reminded of your face every time she’d look at it.

“It was only a joke. Although I would not mind seeing a collection of favours on your armour. Only mine, though, or I might get jealous.” You smiled at the blonde. “Will you accept my favour, Brienne of Tarth?”

“Of course, how could anyone decline such an offer?” She nodded and took another step closer. Looking down at your hands she noticed that the piece of fabric matched your dress, raising an eyebrow to silently question you.

“I lost my ribbon on the way here.” You admitted. “So I ripped a piece of my dress.”

“My lady, you didn’t have to! You shouldn’t have!”

“Oh, but I wanted to.” You looked up into her blue eyes and pushed a soft smile.

Have you ever been told how beautiful you are, you wanted to ask, how looking into your eyes feels like swimming in Tarth’s sapphire water?

“The mêlée is about to begin, my lady.” Brienne snapped you out of your thoughts, her hand gently wrapping around yours.

“Yes, yes of course. I apologise, I was…” You shook your head and chose not to finish your sentence.

You quickly tied the piece of fabric to her pauldron, right next to your previous favour. And it felt right, seeing a piece of your dress on her armour, knowing that you two were now matching.

“Think of me.” You whispered and let go of her before taking a step back.

Brienne swallowed thickly and quickly walked back to the battlefield, her mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. She wondered for a second if you had cast a spell on her, if the ribbon and fabric tied to her armour were enchanted with a love spell.

The woman was brought back to reality by the tip of an opponent’s sword nearly poking her breastplate. She quickly parried the sword away, moving swiftly to avoid a counterattack.

You watched her fight for what seemed to be hours, cheering every time she landed a successful strike or avoided a blow. It almost looked like a perfectly rehearsed dance, the way she moved around effortlessly.

You could only imagine what she looked like under her helmet as she fought, snarling and groaning from all the effort. Your mind wandered and for a second you imagined her on top of you, groaning and sweating from another kind of effort.

It was only a silly girl crush, something that would pass in no time. At least you hoped it was. You’d heard about the rumours saying Brienne had had some sort of intimate relationship with Jaime Lannister. You knew you could never compare to the most handsome man in Westeros, if he was her type, you simply had no chance with her. It was only a silly girl crush anyway, it would pass in no time.

You were lost in your thoughts when Brienne was declared victorious, the crowd loudly cheering for her.

The knight removed her helmet and immediately turned to look at you, her eyebrows knitting together when she couldn’t find your face anywhere in the crowd.

-

“So, Brienne, tell us about the girl?” Tyrion asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“What girl?” Brienne huffed a little too defensively.

“The girl.” He insisted. “Don’t act like you have no idea what I’m talking about, you’ve been fidgeting with that piece of fabric since we’ve sat down.” He said, pointing at the favour on her pauldron.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Is it about my brother?” Tyrion smirked.

“Tyrion-“ Brienne warned him but to no avail.

“Oh come on! He chose Cersei’s cunt, you will have to get over it someday.” He shrugged.

“Shut your mouth!” Brienne barked and slammed her hand on the table, the whole tavern going quiet for a couple of seconds. “This has nothing to do with Jaime. I don’t know what you think you saw about that girl and me. Nothing is going on.”

“Oh, really? Is that why she always is the loudest cheer in the crowd? Or why she is the one you immediately looked for after your victory?” Tyrion cocked an eyebrow.

“I said I would not be having this conversation with you.” The tall woman hissed and emptied her cup before storming out of the tavern.

She almost felt like ripping the ribbon and fabric from her armour right there and then, grabbing them and being about to yank them off when she suddenly remembered how bright your smile was every time she’d acknowledged you.

She didn’t want to feel these things again, not after Jaime. She never wanted to feel these things again, and yet...

Love, what a disease.

“Brienne?” The tall woman’s back immediately straightened when she heard her name being called.

“My lady…” She turned around, her hand still firmly gripping your favours.

“Are you alright? You look…upset?” You took a step closer, gently wrapping your hand around hers. It was almost comical how small yours looked next to hers. “Would you like me to take these off for you?”

“No, no, I-“ Brienne closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “Why are you doing this?” She asked looking at you.

“I’m sorry?” You frowned, confusion painting your features.

“This,” she said. “Acting like you care. Acting nice. How long will you keep the joke going? How long until you admit that you’ve been taking the piss out of me?!”

“Taking the piss out of-“ You huffed loudly. “You think I’ve been mocking you? Why on earth would I do that?! Why would I rip a piece of my most beautiful dress to give you as a favour? All for a joke?!”

“If not for a joke, then why?!” You could hear the pain in her voice, how it slightly trembled no matter how hard she tried to keep her composure.

“Because I like you.” You admitted in a whisper. “And I’m no Jaime Lannister, I’m no prettiest woman in Westeros, I’ve got nothing to offer you but those silly little favours. Those, and my devotion. I would never, ever be cruel to you.”

You barely had time to register Brienne’s hand cupping your cheek and pulling you into the softest kiss, her body trembling as if she was still fearing that this was all a joke. So you kissed her back with all you had, arms thrown around her neck to hold her close.

“It’s enough,” Brienne whispered when she pulled away, her forehead pressed against yours. “Those silly little favours and your devotion, it would be more than enough.”

“Good.” You smiled, taking her hand in yours. “How about we share a drink, mh? To celebrate your victory.”

Brienne nodded, her fingers intertwining with yours as she led you back to the tavern, holding the door open to let you in.

Tyrion grinned like the right imbecile he was when you sat down in front of him with Brienne. He introduced himself before turning to look at the woman by your side.

“Much more pretty than Jaime, if you ask me.” He smirked and pointed his chin at you.

You saw Brienne nod in agreement and looked down to hide the blush creeping on your cheeks.

Isn’t it crazy, you thought as you fidgeted with the ripped fabric of your dress, what those little tokens of devotion could lead to?

[woso-fan13]

Whumptober 2023: 15 (Barca)

No. 15: “I don’t need you to help me, I can handle things myself.”

Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

It was so easy to hide. Although you were usually relatively active on social media, you had a backlog of photos that you wanted to post. Nobody noticed that you were posting photos from previous months, and, if they did, nobody cared. 

You had mastered the art of ignoring a phone call and texting the person back after a few minutes apologizing for missing their call. Your teammates knew that you lived on a random schedule, it wasn’t hard to convince them that you actually had completely missed the dozen calls that you had received that day. You hadn’t, watching your phone screen, waiting for the call to go to voicemail every time. 

You called out of practice for the week, insisting that you were sick. Once this week had passed, there were a few scheduled days off. You could take almost two weeks to try and regain control over yourself. You were spiraling, but no one could know. No one would know. 

—-

A persistent knock grabs your attention. You had previously been zoned out in the living room for an undetermined amount of time. You try to ignore the sound and go back into your haze, but the pounding repeats. Again and again. 

Finally, you pull yourself up from the floor, making your way to the door. Expecting a delivery that needs to be signed for or a salesperson, you open the door without looking through the peephole. 

That was a mistake. A very mad Lucy Bronze is standing, hands on her hips. 

“Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” she says sternly, “where have you been? The whole team’s been worried about you, you’ve been ignoring us.”

You don’t respond, staring down at the floor in the doorway. Lucy grows more impatient. 

“I’m waiting. You better have a bloody good explanation, young lady.”

“I’m sorry.”

It's barely a whisper. It’s all you can say, but you know it won’t satisfy her. 

“You’re sorry?! You’re sorry?! No, you’re sorry when you hit someone with a football, or when you make a mistake. You’re not ‘sorry’ when you disappear. You’re not ‘sorry’ when you leave the team.”

Lucy is ranting at this point, her anger clear. Every ‘sorry’ she said was spit, mocking you harshly.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Lucy heaves a sigh, breathing in deeply. She’s trying to control herself, you know it. You would understand if she kept yelling. She should keep yelling, you have let everyone down. That’s all you do- constantly disappointing people. 

It’s silent for a moment, Lucy refocusing. She looks at you for the first time, really looks at you. She sees the lack of colour in your face- your normally rosie cheeks drained to an almost translucent. She sees the dark circles under your eyes, begging for rest. She sees the red rims around your eyes, sees the dried tear tracks. She also sees the fresh tears pooling, likely a result of her harsh words. 

Oh. She feels like a terrible bully. 

“Y/N, kiddo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of that, I was just scared. No one’s heard from you in over a week, we were all worried. I shouldn’t have shouted, I’m sorry.”

You shrug, whispering, “it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” she says firmly before lowering her voice to just above a whisper and repeating, “it’s not okay.”

Silence fills the air, neither of you know what to say. Lucy’s deciding how to best convince you to let her in, you’re deciding if it would be more effective to talk Lucy into leaving or to simply slam the door and lock it quickly. You’re leaning towards the second option. 

“Can I come in?” she asks. 

Every part of you is screaming not to let her in. Every part of you is screaming that if you let her in, she’s going to find out everything. Every part of you is screaming that if you let her in and she finds out the truth, she’ll leave you. 

And, yet, you nod. You step aside, letting her in. 

She smiles softly, stepping forward. She waits until you shut the door and turn to head back into the main area, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. She pulls you tight to her side, the touch firm. 

The two of you walk to the living room, settling on the sofa. It’s quiet again, the silence suffocating. But neither of you can say a word. 

“I’m okay,” you insist, knowing that’s what she needs to hear, “I can handle things myself. You should go.”

That was good. Maybe she would leave, walk right out the door. Maybe, maybe, if she walked out now, she could walk back in later. If she stayed, she would walk out and stay away. 

Lucy looks closely at you, as if trying to read you. 

“You’re not okay.”

You go to insist that you’re fine, but as your mouth opens, you’re cut off. 

“You’re not okay.”

And something, somewhere breaks. You throw towards Lucy, tears already dripping off of your face. You bury your head into her chest, your breath stuttering. She doesn’t know what to do. 

“That’s it, get it all out,” she says. 

She pulls you to be sitting in her lap, facing her as she hugs your body tightly. Your head is pressed into her neck, the skin instantly turning wet. 

“Good, get it all out. Nice, deep breaths. Good girl, big breaths. Keep taking those nice, big breaths. You’re going to be okay, everything’s going to be okay. I’m right here, sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.”

She continues speaking quietly to you, the words soothing. One of her hands is cradling the back of your head, the other running firmly up and down your back. The pressure helps calm you, and Lucy knows this. It’s also the reason that her cheek is pressed to the top of your head, grounding you. 

Lucy knows you. And Lucy’s here. She’s not going anywhere, firmly connected to you now. 

[syrma-sensei]

→ A Doe's Trap.

gif credit.

pairing: daemon targaryen x baratheon!reader.

rating: explicit.

word count: 3.9k

warning: daemon targaryen is a warning himself, usual westerosi agendas.

PART II: A GOLDEN LOCK.

masterlist | ao3

COURT IS INFINITELY BORING; the flashing red colour on the outside walls is merely a clever cover for the ennui of what's happening inside. And the Small Counsel is, Seven Hells, dreadfully, the most tedious place one can choose to spend time in. King Viserys, however, is persistent on having his younger brother in his counsel. His Grace has given his orders and nobody, not even the Rogue Prince, can refuse his liege's commands.

Nevertheless, even his royal duties and counsel obligations get habitually interrupted by certain cunts. After several replacements for his job —stirred by those cunts— the prince, eventually, takes the post of the Commander of the City Watch, and he isn't pleased one bit. The supposed city protectors are nothing but lost and lowly scum. But he knows better, that cunt of a Hand wants nothing but to offend the Prince and his potentials, such an elaborated attempt to irritate the hot-tempered prince; the current heir to the Iron Throne is nothing but a mongrels tamer. But if the bearded wanker thinks himself subtle, then he's terribly mistaken, thus, Daemon accepts the challenge. Because after all, if he truly wants to be King someday, conducting with the riff-raff is a good way to prepare himself for the role, rather than transacting with sickly old men who swagger through the glories of their ancestors and making none of their own.

Tonight though, to his bother, he has to take a break from his new duties, for King Viserys has blessed the court with yet another of his many festivities. Queen Aemma, his cousin and sister-in-law, is with child, again. The celebration is held in the Red Keep's grand yard under the full moon's glimmer. And to his surprise, Daemon finds himself rather enjoying himself in the fresh air.

His violet eyes are fixated on the table where the King and Queen are seated, two vacant chairs next to them. One is his, and the other is Rhaenyra's, his beloved niece. His gaze, however, is not, by any chance, drawn to the royal couple, rather, the ones who escort the Queen. That specific one, with the blue eyes and dark hair. The Baratheon Lady, his precious doe.

She stands next to her queen as one of her most trusted ladies-in-waiting. With a bright mind, and pure soul she has captured the hearts of most men, and the Prince is no exception. The niece of Lord Boremund Baratheon is sent by her lord uncle to represent their house at court in her aunt's stead, Lady Jocelyn Baratheon, Prince Aemon's widow. Once the Prince saw her, she stirred something familiar within him. Something he thought he'd not feel as he fucked his way through almost every whore of the Street of Silk. The place that provides him maidens whenever he desires to claim their innocence. What's better than a whore maiden but a paramount and maiden lady?

Virtuous isn't a word one can label Daemon Targaryen with. Rather, the Rogue Prince has an equivocal proclivity for those of virtue, of purity. He cannot brush off the image of that beautiful doe clinging to his shoulders and sobbing in delight beneath him, while he rams inside her virgin hole as he deflowers her. He fantasizes her calling his name as she willingly gives herself to him, as he fucks Mysaria in the recent days, and his high would be unmatched. The only thing can outdo it is having the doe herself in his bed.

The doe senses his heavy gaze, and her sapphires lock with his amethysts, and she tries to hide her sheepish smile. Gods be good, he can't decide wether he likes that smile of hers, or the cries she'd be making when he's inside of her. His predatory eyes follow her slender figure after she dips in courtsy for the King and Queen, excusing herself. He traces her golden gown, the one he'll have much pleasure ripping it off of her and see what she's treasuring beneath it.

“Good evening, Prince Daemon.” The doe bows to him, then he sees clear blue eyes looking straight into his, the plumping heart between his ribs skips for a moment, “Congratulations on your new office!”

“Why, thank you, Lady Baratheon.” His tone is solemn.

“Please do not call me as such,” The doe bites on her lower lip adorably, “We're much more familiar with one another.”

Ah, the red cheeks, they're definitely his favourite, and perhaps what's more delightful is making them grow redder.

“Much more familiar? Hmm.” Daemon teases, “Then why did you not come and congratulate me when I first got appointed as the Commander of the City Watch, my lady?”

Daemon's grin goes wider as his tiny trick makes her cheeks flush with dark crimson.

Tearing her face aside, she says under her breath hotly, “Gods,” Then her eyes are staring back at his face again, adding hastily, “I'm terribly sorry, my Prince! The instant I heard of the marvelous news I looked for you everywhere to do so, but...”

Her blue eyes dart everywhere but his face now. Daemon purses his lips into thin line, tugging a dark lock behind her ear. “But what, my lady?” His tone is bored, unamused, supposedly.

“Please, let me explain, Your Grace.” He nods, granting her her wish. “I did want to be the first to congratulate you. But when I couldn't find you anywhere, they told me you're making new arrangements for the City Watch; to ameliorate the state of the soldiers.” She adds breathlessly, and Daemon can clearly imagine her breathing heavily after he sends to her highest high. “So, I presumed you were occupied with much more important matters, and I couldn't bring myself to take from your valuable time.”

Oh, isn't she delightful? So sweet, so caring. Does he deserve such consideration? Of course not. Should he take it? An absolute yes. How not? And she's practically showering him with it.

Daemon twists his lips, grinning. “In that regard, I should forgive you, my lady. But on one condition.”

“Name it.” Her answer comes immediately.

Ah, he does like those moments when her Baratheon blood rises, when she shows signs of challenging and daring, and the confident feature she wears is truly pretty.

So, Daemon indulges her. “I want you to honour me with a dance, my lady.”

“A dance?” She arches a dark brow quizzically, shockingly.

“Does it not rise to the doe's expectations?” He teases her again.

And for the second time, it remarkably works. “Did I give such an insinuation to the dragon?” The way her brow switches from puzzled to intrepid puts the Prince under a charm. The irony, how effortless and unintentional her gestures are, but oh, the way she wraps him around her beautiful fingers. How bewitching she is.

“It is said that dancing is much similar to battling.” She adds, “I dare not stand against you in the second, but dare I say, I enjoy doing the first with you. It is a sliver of reminiscent of what fighting by your side might be like on the battlefield.”

It's Daemon's turn to raise an eyebrow. “You wish to dance with a dragon, little doe?”

“Yes, very much so.” She says it with utmost thrill.

“Even if it might get you burned?” He asks her, eyes glistening with something menacing, but the doe does not see it.

“He won't hurt me.” The certainty in her eyes makes Daemon's head whirl. Perhaps he isn't the only one under a charm.

“What you speak is true.” His smile is gentle this time, and what he speaks is also true. Lust did indeed blind him at first, and the desire to defile her has driven him mad for quite some time. But no, after getting to know this doe, his delicious prey, he cannot bring himself to hurt her. But has his craving for claiming her ceased within him? Not once. It's been like raging fire, huddling and jostling in his chest, and taking hold of his head. It's like a curse afflicted upon him. He's no patient man, and the gods have put him in a laborious test. But again, since when the gods are indulgent with man? But Daemon Targaryen is as unyielding as them as well. And he'll be so until the gods get bored of him and give him what he wants. Daemon, however, won't wait for gods to get lenient. He shall take it by himself.

They dance, the dragon and the doe. And the shy lady is back again as her face turn red as she is spinning between the Prince's arms, holding his hands. Their feet move in such harmony with the music, and they capture everyone's eyes. Her face is close, so close to his, and hers is as dark as blood. Her fresh breathing is on his face, and the dragon inside him goes feral. He wants her. Gods, He utterly and wholly wants her.

The music comes to a stop, and a cheered applause rages from around them. King Viserys is the strongest clapper, and the Queen shakes her head at her husband's excessive excitement.

The dancing comes to a pause, and the King raises a toast, and the feast for all is set. The guests eat, drink, and laugh. The King gets drunk soon enough, and the Queen becomes tired. Viserys keeps on drinking, while Aemma retires to her chambers to rest. The Prince is next to his brother and niece, thinking of the doe who's nibbling on her food ever so delicately.

It is a rare thig she is, to be born a Baratheon and have a tender character. It's known that the stags are of vigorous spirits and adventurous endeavour. But unlike her house and himself, she seems quite enjoying herself at King's Landing's court. That, however, does not nullify the hints of fury within her soul. She's a daughter of a stag after all, and stags have always attracted the eyes of dragons; his great-grandmother, Queen Dowager Alyssa Velaryon, married Rogar Baratheon, lord paramount of Storm's End, their wedding is known as the Golden Wedding. And Daemon's cousin, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, is half Baratheon herself from her mother's side, Lady Jocelyn Baratheon. Daemon still remembers how Caraxes was enthralled by his doe when they first introduced them to eachother; she has Valyrian blood after all. He smiles at the memory, she has the dragon and his rider enchanted.

“You're quite taken by her, uncle.” Daemon's ears prick at Rhaenyra's High Valyrian.

“Quite the woman she is.” He replies in their mother tongue.

“Indeed.” She nods. “She is quite taken by you as well.”

That piques his interest, his niece has all of his attention now. “Oh, really? How did you learn that, Princess?”

Rhaenyra chuckles. “Oh, uncle, you have no idea how much smitten she is with you.”

Trying to conceal the curiosity eating him up, he clears his throat. “How so?”

“You have a reputation, uncle.” Rhaenyra remarks, “But the lady refuses to believe it exists, claiming that she knows you better. She sees you as her knight in shining armour.”

A queer sensation clasps on the Prince's heart. And for a moment, he feels as if someone has kicked the air out of his lungs. He directs a wavering smile to his niece.

“How unfortunate.” Then he falls silent, and speaks very little for the rest of the night.

After an hour of feasting, the music replays, and a merry yet drunken enrapture sweep over the place. From his seat, Daemon looks for his doe and he finds her laughing at some stupid jest cracked by Ser whoever the fuck he is. When their eyes lock again, she smiles at him sweetly, but he doesn't return it. Instead, he stands up, and maneuvers his way through the drunken singing and wobbly dancing.

It was an ill decision to come here from the outset, but what choice he had when the King forces him to attend the banquet that's held in the next royal's honour. The one might brush him off from his current line to the throne. Daemon, sometimes, thinks that his brother taunts him deliberately, and perchance he's pulled by other hands.

He directs his indignation upon his royal brother as he threads his way to his private chambers; where he's going to drink himself till sleep, and maybe giving his cock a hand-fucking before falling asleep. Momentarily, he thinks of visiting Mysaria, but no. He needs some solitude away from everyone else.

Once in his chambers, he shrugs off his formal attire and slips into more comfortable clothing. Before he starts his drinking session, he hears soft knocks on the door; he grumbles. Perhaps the one behind the door wants to be the victim of his wrath tonight.

Striding down to the door, he opens it sharply. He freezes.

“Prince Daemon.”

Gods, how does she do it? Putting off that raging fire within him onto ice just like that. Mayhaps she is an enchantress after all.

“Lady (Y/N).” He responds.

“Is everything alright, my Prince?” The concern in her eyes tugs the strings of his heart.

“Yes.” For the first time, Daemon finds his lying unconvincing. Seven Hells.

“Then why did you leave the feast in such manner?” The doe inquires, brows knitted, “You made the King worry.”

Of course, she came here upon an order by his brother.

“You made me worry.”

Daemon regards her, then he retreats back to his chambers, leaving the door open. A private invitation for her to follow him inside which she obliges to.

“What caused you distress, my Prince?” The eager concern in her voice makes him melt. A strange mixture of sensations coil at the tip of his stomach. It is the first time she comes to his private chambers, and he feels as if he led her into a trap. The poor doe, she doesn't know she just entered the dragon's den, and in his current state, he has no guarantee of what he might do next. He is mad.

“You.” Daemon spins around and faces her, she stands a few steps away from him. “You cause me distress.”

Gasping, her dainty hand rises to her now heaving chest, and her blue eyes widen. “How could I ever do so?” Daemon takes a step towards her, and her eyes are focused on his figure. “My Prince, I implore you to—”

Seven Hells. His doe can be annoying when she becomes rather talkative, sometimes. And it is a perfect moment to silence her in the way he most desired; his lips on hers. And oh, they are much more delectable than he ever imagined, and he could've sworn he can sip wine from them.

The doe stands still, eyes as wide as saucers, as he claims her lips as if he is the thirstiest man alive. When realization casts upon her at last, she pushes him away. Daemon whips his mouth looking at her. She's horrified.

“Do forgive me.” Daemon looks at the floor, not bearing to gaze at her scared face. “But I've been wanting to do this for a long while.”

When she doesn't answer; he dares look up at her face again. A more questioning expression adorns her face instead of the terrified one moments ago. She doesn't flee, nevertheless. Which is a good sign, Daemon supposes. He narrows the gap between them, cautious steps as if he's afraid that the doe to run off.

“I desire you.” He confesses, “Gods, you're the one I lust for the most.” His hands reach for her reddened cheeks. “I want to have you. Let me have you... please.”

“How can I let you have me, and we're not wedded, Daemon?” He sees two thin strings of tears rolling down her cheeks. She tears her face aside. “Gods, they warned me about you.” She sobs, “They told me to steer clear of you, but I didn't listen.” A hand covers her mouth. “The Queen even promised my lord uncle to match me with another to prevent your dark reputation raising questions about my virtue.”

Any ounce of sense left in him until this very instance is blown away now. The Prince's hands latch onto her forearms, and he draws into a vicious kiss. He tastes the salt in her tears and he's fuming.

“You're mine.” He whispers against her mouth, “Mine. You belong to the dragon, and anyone dares to think of having you, they'll have to deal with fire and blood.”

“Daemon, please...” She cries. “I do not want it.”

The Prince cradles her face softly, his hot breath licking her face. “Tell me, what do you really want, little doe?” He brushes the tears away, “Tell me what you wish for and I shall grant it for you.”

His fragile doe gulps, looking at him with the eyes of a prey begging for mercy between its predator's jaws. “Do not allow us to be separated.” She weeps, and her heart feels heavy.

“No, no, little doe,” He says in whisper, “Not a single soul can separate us, my little doe. Give yourself to me. Let me corrupt you...” He inhales, he's almost begging, “Let me defile you, and they'll have no choice but to let us be.” He leans to her ear, adding, “Let me fill your belly with my child.”

“Do not let another have me, my dragon, please.” She clutches into his chest, beseechingly.

Daemon's violet eyes dart over her face, before he plunders her lips again. His hands adroitly baring her, layer by layer, until she stands naked before him. Through her blurred mind, the realization of her nakedness casts upon her. She gasps and tries covering herself.

Daemon, on the other hand, laughs, shaking his head with such amusement. “Do not shy away now, little doe.” He makes her lay down on his bed, removing her hands from the parts she attempts to hide. “Let me see your beauty.”

Daemon has to pin her hands on the either sides of her head to make submit to his request. He looks at her body, and she turns redder and hotter than Caraxes's fire.

He has to admit, she exceeds any fantasy he ever had. And now she's all his to claim. The Seven be fucked, this is the one who deserves worshiping, perhaps she is The Maiden herself, and mayhaps he can be her Warrior.

“Fuck.” Daemon hisses, “You're beyond anything I've ever imagined.”

“Daemon...” Her voice is breathless, “I-I feel queer things in my stomach.”

The Prince laughs again, kissing her temple. “They are good things, my lady, worry not.”

She nods, unsure of what might happen next. Daemon isn't going to disappoint her. Although the strain in his loins is unbearable, he takes his time to spread what he dares to call... affections upon her. His rough-padded fingers massage her shoulders, his lips lavish her erected nipples, and his mouth leaves no spot of her soft skin neglected.

When his fingers reach her core to fondle, she asks him about the moistened sensation. He shushes her, and tells her it's normal and a good sign. He brushes her clit and her moans become uncontrollable, he enters a digit and she screams.

Daemon laughs and grins as she's innocently grinding against his fingers, chasing something building inside her belly, she tells him. He adds another, then another, and her virgin drawers can take no more and flutter around his fingers with a sigh of his name leaving her mouth.

“Is this why people lay with eachother, my Prince?” She asks when recovers from her high, sweat glistening on her forehead, “Even when they don't want to have children.”

Daemon chuckles amusedly. “People fuck for many reasons, little doe. Pure pleasure is what, sometimes, one only seeks.”

“The Seven forgive me,” She says in something akin to shame, “But I want you to fuck me, Daemon.”

The words, coming off her tongue so effortlessly, make the blood travel straight to his cock.

“It might hurt you, though.” He warns.

“No,” She raises her chin stubbornly, “You won't hurt me.”

Before he gets off the bed, he kisses her. Then, he starts to take off his cotton tunic. He glimpses at her, and he finds her tracing his moves, intrigued. She gulps when he slips his dark trousers off, her pure eyes witnessing a man's cock for the first time in her life.

He chuckles, and cannot let the chance slide without a tease. “You like my small dragon, little doe?”

“I wouldn't call it small, my Prince.”

The latter throws his head backwards as a loud laughter bursts out of his chest. “Yes.” He lands a knee on the bed, dipping further to her face, bringing her hand to touch him. She looks up at him then down at his cock, as her hand faintly brushes the dripping tip. She shivers and he grins. His hand never letting hers crawl away. She gathers some courage when she sees him delighted, and her fingers curl around his cock, squeezing gently as he twitches. Daemon grunts deeply as her inexperienced hand caresses the bulging veins of it, and he feels himself coming. With a groan, he removes her hand away. He didn't want to scare her off with loads of white strings slamming her stomach and face. Rather, he wants it deep inside of her. “Open your legs for me.”

She does so, but uncertainly. He positions himself between his legs, wrapping her legs around his sculpted waist. Inevitable tears pour from her eyes as he thrusts himself into her, and Seven Hells, her virgin cunt feels heavenly. How her walls suck him up greedily even though he's yet to move.

With a hoarse voice, the doe whispers his name over and over, as he takes her slowly while his hair is ghostly brushing her arms around his neck. She cries and begs, and he kisses and reassures her that he'll give her what she wants. She tells him it's building again, and he hits that innocent spot of hers again and again until the fluttering he felt around his fingers is now happening around his cock. He's already at his limits and his seed fills her waving cunt.

“Well done, little doe, well done.” Daemon eases her quivering body.

When he pulls out of her, the Prince is utterly surprised when the doe flips their positions, as she straddles him instead. Their liquids are oozing from between her legs onto his muscled stomach. Shock is blatant on his face as she bites on her lip unsurely.

“What is this, little doe?” He teases, “I supposed this was your first.”

She lolls her head down timidly. “I've always wanted to do this with you, everyday when I look at that painting in the Queen's chambers.”

Daemon is well aware of what picture his doe is referring to. That salacious portrait Queen Aemma has received as a gift from Lys. It's called: The Seven Arts of Love. Perhaps his sister-in-law has kept it as a mockery of the belief of the Seven. He'll never know, or perhaps the Seven made her keep it, so his doe would witness it and mock him with her straddling him on their first night. The notion stirs him to the bone, and his cock is painfully hard now.

“Perhaps another time.” He cups her breasts softly. “This position is not meant for the first time.”

A surprised yelp escapes her mouth as he flips her again beneath him, clicking his tongue. “If you want to ride a dragon, little doe, you have to tame him first.” He leans down, his silver hair dangling over his shoulders, “And believe me, it is not as simple as you might think.”

“We shall see, my dragon, we shall see...”

[the-desilittle-bird]

Hey dear! I saw that your requests are open and I was wondering if I could get a imagine/oneshot Daemon x wife!poc fem Reader (dornish maybe?) inspired by "jhute ilzaam" by Umrao jaan, please? (with happy ending) feel free to ignore.

AN- I loved it! Thanks for the ask sweetie. Hope you find it as per your liking.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading

False Accusations

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

Summary- And sometimes false accusations end with a beautiful evening...

Tag List- @minaxcarter, @eliseline, @blackhoodlea, @little-moonbeam-666, @neenieweenie, @omgsuperstarg, @avalyaaa, @shopping, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @krokietinio, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @thekayarlene, @narcy, @helloitsshitzulover, @muushwrites, @daringboba, @bi2simps, @issybee0611, @yariany02, @agathe, @5moremin, @candypurplebutterfly, @saraelizabeth26, @moon-light1415, @targaryenmoony, @stargaryenx, @instabul, @shine101, @hyacinthus007, @mcam623, @eudximoniakr, @carissa_griffin7777, @marvelescvpe, @severewobblerlightdragon, @deltamoon666, @thatgirlthatreadswattpad, @ultrav0lence, @savagemickey03, @sunmoon-01, @literishdegree99, @watercolorskyy, @Lady-Juliettes, @cherryaemond, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @nats-whore

Warnings- Tooth-rooting fluff and it gets steamy at a point. Implied smut.

GIF Credits to @thelekhikawrites

Kaun kisko yaha bhala samajha

Humne kya samajha tumne kya samajha

"Do what I hear is right?" The Dornish princess asked, her fingers combing through her dark tresses. Her dark eyes gazed accusingly at her husband who seemed not fazed by her statement, casual as always.

Instead, the Rogue Prince drew closer to her, like a moth to burning fire. His long fingers caressed the dusky skin of her shoulder; the thread of her heavy necklace sat sternly on the bare skin, barely grazing the rough padding of his digits.

"And what do you hear, my little sun?" He called dearly, fingers running down to the thread which held her translucent nightwear together. "Now, that you are here, make some work on the threads of the necklace."

With a roll of his eyes, Daemon started to carefully undo the knots holding one of the symbolic representation of the riches of House Martell of Dorne. But whilst his pursues, he observed the little frown shadowing over her face.

"What has stolen the smile of your face, beloved?" He asked, once all the knots were undone and the jewelry was placed carefully on her vanity. His fingers massaging the muscles of her tensed shoulder.

"Queen Alicent had decided to enlighten me upon a particular... interest of yours," she said, her teeth sinking into her lower lip while her hands slapped his hands off.

"Which one?" Daemon asked with a frown tugging over his eyebrows. His hands crossed over his chest; eyes skimming over his lady wife; his little sun; his Dornish princess.

"Were you in an intimate relation with Rhaenyra?"

The prince was left in a deep silence; his eyes boring deep into her brown irises which resembled the drenched soil after the arrival of first rain; the earthen warmth they held were lost as tears welled up in them.

"Were you, Daemon?"

Of course he was. How could the prince forget it. But that was before (Y/N) came in his life; dancing and singing like one of the angels from the heaven, with hair so dark that they could challenge the Maiden herself.

Her smile which brightened up his entire life; making him forget about the misery of his life and drown in the rain of love she showered over him.

"I was."

"And does the relationship still exist?"

The hope in her eyes resembled the flame of a burning candle; little but bright. Her pink lips resembled the petals of the softest rose. Her skin like gold; or the beautiful colour of tea she makes when he couldn't sleep.

"No."

"And how shall I accept that it isn't a lie?"

Daemon chuckled, his hands guiding her to stand up. Forcing her to face him, to look into his violet eyes with her dark ones. In her eyes, he saw in them the childlike stubbornness and with them was love.

"What can I do to make you believe it?"

Meri aankho me jo achhe nahi lagte aansu

Toh jalaya na karo mujhko sataya na karo

"I hate it when you cry," he whispers, cupping her cheek as his fingertip massaged the muscles beneath her eyes, softly with great care. "Then don't make me cry then," she replied in an equally low voice, the stubbornness leaking through her voice.

"Apologies, my love," he says, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the corner of her lips. The sharp intake of breath pleased the prince as he retracted his face only a few inches.

"Apologize better," (Y/N) argued, turning around with her arms folded in front of her. Her eyes focused over the reflection of herself and her now smirking husband, who only stepped closer to her, towering over her petite stature.

"I. Hate. Tears. In. Your. Beautiful. And. Erotic. Eyes."

Each word was accentuated by a kiss, starting from her shoulder to her neck. The shiver which ran down her spine excited him.

"Stop the seduction," she hissed, eyes widening as she took a few steps away from her prideful husband, unconsciously moving towards the bed she shared with her lord husband.

Daemon only huffed a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he stepped closer to her; like a predator hunting it's prey in the quiet of a dense forest.

"Those are just another false accusations, ñuha byka vēzos," (My little sun) Daemon said, his fingers slowly crawling over the expanse of his broad chest, undoing the ties which hold the black tunic together, slow as a turtle.

"It hurts me, Daemon," she whispers with a bite on her lower lip, blinking her lashes to prevent the fall of her tears.

Jhute iljaam meri jaan lagaya na karo

Dil hai najuk ise tum aise dukhaya na karo

"These false accusations hurts my weak heart as well, my lady love," Daemon admits, exposing his lean chest to the hungry eyes of his wife. His tunic was left abandoned on the floor, while his finger grazed the covered skin of her side, just below her bossom.

"My lord, I was just... scared to lose you."

"You would never lose me, my sunshine."

His lips touched the smooth skin of her collarbone, a small hum of pleasure leaving the throat of the exotic beauty he was fortunate enough to marry. The little moan had him growling; his teeth biting the skin below her ear softly.

"Daemon, please."

The smirk on his face grew, his fingers finding home on her waist. Her dark brown locks touching his rough fingers, a soft touch like a mother's to her little child.

"Lets remove the false accusations from your mind."

[multific]

Aemond With a Fierce Wife - Headcanons

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

You were no noble

But you sure behaved like one

You were all so grand and beautiful

And once you married Aemond, this fierceness in you only grew

One would describe you as a bitch with a nasty attitude

You didn't hold your tongue for anyone

No matter who they were

Man

Woman

King

Queen

Prince

or Princess

You took no exception when it came to your honest opinions

You were very honest and raw

It was a part of you which made Aemond fall in love

Even when you just met him, a lady-in-waiting for a Princess he was supposed to court

You behaved like a Queen

The way you held yourself

The way you walked and talked

And that shoulder of yours which was always out, glistening in the sun as you moved, drove him wild

Your tongue was sharp

Aemond liked that

So, instead of the sweet princess, he married you and made you a Princess

Funny enough you were almost the complete opposite with him

Your smirk always turned into a full smile

Your sharp tongue could say such sweet things to him

Truth be told he feared you only wanted his name

But that was the farthest from the truth

At first, you wanted him because you hated the Princess

You wanted to show her that you are just as capable

To make up for every comment she made about you

How she often belittled you without any reason

For how she spoke of you behind your back

Calling you names

Oh yes, you wanted revenge 

But then you fell in love

Aemond was so different from all the other men

He showed kindness

He showed care

He was a real strong man

He was interesting

Smart

You wanted him

Not his eye, not his title, not his name or dragon

But him, Aemond

And true love you found in him

You loved gowns, the bigger the better

Sparkly, colourful 

Something perhaps not even the Queen herself would wear

But let's be honest Alicent adores you

She was the mother you never had

And something about your sharp nature intrigued her

Watching you in your grand dresses, all different colours, she loved to dress you

Given half of your dresses came from her, you felt like she dressed you more than her own daughter

You always stood your ground

Never even blinked

Not even in the presence of Rhaenyra

Alicent liked that no matter what happened, you stood up for her family

She listened to you defend her family harshly

One time you even laughed into the face of the King himself

The King wanted your head for such treason 

But the point you made and the way you defended yourself

No one was match when it came to you defending someone you loved

Not even the King

How could you not defend them?

You finally had a family

Aegon often referred to you as the snake

Spitting venom

But you just laughed

“Brother, hold your wife on a tighter grip.” Aegon said

“Looks like the Prince is scared of a woman who has her own opinion.”

“I’m not afraid.” he said taking a sip of wine.

“Then why are you shaking?” the rise of your brow, the silence in the room, you loved it.

Aemond loved it

Aegon changed a lot with you in the family

As if your words cut deeper than his own mothers ever could

One evening, you found him passed out on the floor

“Just what are you doing?”

“Sleeping.” he replied, not even opening his eyes.

“Right, a true King you will be, sleeping in your own piss and vomit. Aegon The Great Sleeper they will call you.”

The family was strong when you arrived but they only grew stronger

Aemond didn't care for his eye any longer

Barely even wore the eyepatch

Showing off the sapphire you admired

You changed the family but you never changed yourself

You were strong as a mountain

"No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it."

You would often say

But once you were in your chambers with your husband

Once the gowns and jewellery were off

Once it was only you and him

You were a sweet woman

No venom, no attitude

Just you and him

Just a woman and her husband

Aemond swore he saw so many sides of you he often wondered which one was the real one

"All of me is real, My Prince. A woman is like the elements, we could be dangerous as fire, but also soothing and calm as the water."

"And you, My Love, combine all of that with the fierceness of a dragon."

"Or snake as your brother likes to refer to me as."

"He is not smart."

"Because he used to be drunk most of the time, now that he put his cup down, finally he can see behind it and not only the bottom of it."

"You are clever my love. I wonder you never had any choice words as such towards me, why would that be?"

"Oh, who am I to criticize perfection, My Love?"

You loved his smile

It was so easy for you to make him smile

No doubt, you were his firey, fierce but loving wife

A/N: Who caught the Mulan quote? It’s one of my absolute favourites.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter @stunkbiggu @violet-19999 @praline357

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

              DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[alittletaste]

VALUE

↳ In which harry values his privacy, but he values y/n much more

Warnings: Hope you enjoy this fluffy fic, please remember send some asks about the fic and to reblog! I appreciate it 🫶

***

It was truly a sight to see. Harry Styles, the private, the scary, the grumpy, CEO of pleasing, standing in front of an aisle of sanitary products. To be completely honest, he was so out of his comfort zone and so bloody confused. Why were pads and tampons such confusing items, he thought as he scanned the rows again, desperately trying to find the right ones his lover needed.

Sighing, he gave up, reaching into his back pocket he pulled out his phone. His fingers quickly found his girlfriend's contact number and pressed it, within two rings, y/n answered with a groggy “hello?” Harry smiled at her voice, knowing she probably woke up from a nap and didn’t have time to check the caller id before she answered the call.

“Hi fireheart” he spoke into the phone, voice low and deep. Despite being in pain and in bed, y/n smiles upon hearing her boyfriend's voice.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?” She asks, wincing as she sits up in bed, tugging the duvet up with her so that she could tuck it around herself to keep nice and warm. The pain was shooting up her back but the new position was somewhat soothing.

“I’m so confused” he spoke, staring at the hygiene products in front of him. His eyes once again scanned the rows, desperately trying to remember the brand y/n told him about before he left the house.

“About wh- ohh, about the tampons?” She giggles quietly at her boyfriend's frustration.

“Yeah, about the tampons” Harry confirms, running a hand through his hair, slightly tugging at the end of his unruly locks.

“Tampax pearl compak. Get them in the regular size but the mega pack please” y/n reminds him softly, patiently waiting for her boyfriend's response, she hears shuffling on the other side of the call.

“Urm, y/n, what colour is the packet?” Harry asks, as he takes long strides towards the part of the aisle that held all the Tampax products.

“Yellow and blue” y/n replies before she hears a low groan from the other end. “Harry? You good?”

“Fuck, there’s paps here, I can see them outside” he replies, answering her question. Y/n could sense the frustration coming from him, matter of fact, she could already envision the steam releasing from his ears.

“M’sorry” she mutters, feeling angry at herself for sending her extremely well-known boyfriend to the pharmacy to get her tampons. She should’ve known he’d get papped. Harry was a very private person, he never shared anything from his private life with anyone, matter of fact, only his secretary knew about his girlfriend. No one else did, he wanted to protect y/n from the harassment she would face for dating a CEO.

“Why are you apologising for, fireheart?” He asked, a frown on his face, he picks up the tampons y/n asked him for and walked over to pay but not before grabbing some painkillers and y/ns favourite bar of chocolate and one for himself too.

“I sent you to get me the tampons and now you’re going to get harassed by those idiots” y/n spoke, tears pricking her eyes. She knew how much Harry valued his privacy.

“Babe, it’s fine. Really, nothing I can’t handle yeah? Y’know, I’m a strong boy, I’ll fight those paps off. I’ll be the one harassing them” Harry replied, dropping all the items onto the checkout, the elderly lady working there gives him a look which he decides to ignore. All he wanted to do was cheer up his upset girlfriend at home.

“Ok, I love you” y/n speaks into the phone and Harry smiles.

“That’s my girl, I love you too, I’ll be home in about 10 minutes” with that, Harry ends the call and stuffs his phone back into his back pocket before paying for the items and getting the hell out of the pharmacy.

As he stepped foot outside, all he could hear was the clicking of the cameras and the shouts of the paparazzi.

“Here Mr Styles!”

“How’s your day been?”

“Are those tampons?”

“Do you have a girlfriend, Mr Styles?”

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Harry, look here!”

“This is a money shot right here”

It was just shouting after shouting, Harry could feel his face burning as the paparazzi followed him to his car. “Fuck off” he shouted, once a pap came too close. “Back the fuck off” was the last thing the guys heard as Harry got into his car and threw it in reverse to get out.

The drive was only 5 minutes and not before long Harry was making his way into his gated home. He walked up the long flights of stairs before finally pushing the door to his bedroom open to find y/n cuddled up in bed, scrolling through TikTok.

“Hi, I’m back” he announced his entrance, walking towards his girlfriend and taking a seat next to her on the bed. “And I’ve got you, your goodies”

“Hey, you” she replies, leaning in for a soft kiss before taking the bag off Harry. “Thank you love” she says as she makes her way over to the ensuite to do her business.

Harry lays in bed, scrolling through some emails when Y/n walks out. “So they did harass you?” She frowns, climbing into bed, pulling up a picture the paps took of Harry covering his face on her phone.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle” he replies nonchalantly, putting his phone on the nightstand before pulling y/n towards him, her back pressed firmly against his sturdy chest. His large, calloused but warm hands find purchase on her stomach, he rubs soft circles with his thumb.

“But they followed you to your car, they asked you personal questions, I know you value your privacy. I’m so sorry I put you through that” y/n apologised profusely.

“C’mon babe, don’t be like that. It’s not your fault. I do value my privacy, yes, but I value you more. I wanted to go out and get you your tampons. I want to do normal boyfriend things, because I love you, yeah? Fuck the paps, they shouldn’t stop me from being normal.” Harry spoke, the passion in his voice when he said he loved y/n was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“I love you, I’m sorry paps can be so annoying” she says, grabbing Harry’s hand and bringing it to her lips just as Harry brings his own lips to her shoulder.

“Stop with the apologising and cuddle me” Harry says and y/n lets out a teary chuckle, she wipes at her eyes and turns around to face her boyfriend.

“Hi, you” she says, making Harry smile. He moves his hands behind her, slowly massaging at her back.

“Hey, this feel good?” He asks, earning a nod from y/n.

“So good” she hums, as she lets her eyes close, Harry smiles softly. He nuzzles in closer towards her, nose pressing into his hair, taking in the rich smell of her shampoo. Y/n shuffles a bit before throwing her leg over Harry’s thigh and cuddling in closer towards his chest, his hands were still rubbing soothing circles into her back.

“I love you” she mutters sleepily, her arms tightening around her lover.

“I love you more, fireheart” Harry replies, kissing into her hair. “Now get some sleep, sweet girl”

[k-looking-glass-house]

K concept~ The Queen of Queendom of Rose: Rose Rouge II

Huuh I wasn't expecting so soon a Queendom of roses event.....*also seeing Malleus's mommyy..gaww Mallenoa...Mallenoire.....huuuh)

Anyway I though it was a good time to share my own vision of the Queen!

-Information-

Full Name - Rose Rouge II

Nicknames - Rosie

Age - 68

Home Country - Queendom of Roses

Hair Colour - Red

Eye Colour - Red

Height - 168 cm

Relationship Status - Married- 8 children

Personality - Absurd, kind and strict

Unique magic - Unknown

“Oh oh oh oh, it's tea time! Ladies, gentlemen put your teacup!!”

-Trivia-

Dominate Hand - Right

Favourite Food - Tea Party

Least Favourite Food - Snails

Likes - Her queendom, her subject, rabbit, and magic being with fairies

Dislikes - Rude people, racism against magical being

Hobbies - Tea parties, beautiful set invitation handmading and gardening

Talents - Croquet

”I will not tolerate such behavior against magic related, next time it will be OFF WITH YOUR HEAD”

Her personality is bubbly, absurd, crazy but she is one of the kindest person you could met.

The Rouge legacy has a deep connection with Briar Valley, they still protect and deeply respect magical being.

The Queen knows the name of every subjects in her Queendom. Making people calling her "Big Head" outside of the country. Her country is also feared for all absurdity you could find there.

She hides a tea set in her dress, ready to claim tea time whenever she wants.

The fairy Gala takes place every year in her town, but once it happened at NRC... Rose cried for about a month and kept calling Crowley to sue him!! Asking him "What's the difference between a crow and a desk?" before hunging up.

She uses affectionate pronoun like darling to everyone.

She doesn't let peoples finish their sentences and is too engrossed in her own fantasy.

She considered herself a closed aquaintance to Queen Maleficia, she also visits Briar valley quiet often (for a human) but Maleficia always kept her staying short and send her back with a boat full of roses.

She wants peace beetween inter species. And defy magical authority (Magic ministry) to let magic runs free along everyone here, she is also the first queen to have adknowledged the right to "alchemy being born baby" under supervisions and strict rules.

Her fashion designer is the Devil's house, with Cruella De Vil and her nephew Divus Crewel.

She's twisted from The Queen of Heart and the King of Heart.

She's a mage but doesn't use magical stone, her use of magic is based on former magic regulation lost during "the lost century".

She has 8 childrens, 4 pairs of twins.

She loves her husband but sometimes forgets him or doesn't see him right next to her.

Rose Rouge concept done by me

[letsgetrowdy43]

Can you do fantilli x Hughes sister draft day maybe?

Need you there—

Au Masterlist!!

"It's yours and your family's big day Adam, you've worked your ass off for all of it, I really don't want to intrude on it," she said quietly as her fingers raked through his hair. A content smile danced on her lips as his hand squeezed her upper thigh, his eyes held a pleading look as he caught her gaze.

"You wouldn't be imposing," he stopped his thoughts to place a short kiss to the inside of her thigh, "I promise you, I want you there," he lifts his head off of her lap, a sincere look on his face as he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her shoulder, "it would mean everything to me if you were there alongside me and my family, and it would make me a hell of a lot less anxious too" he pleaded.

His fingers now played with her tank top strap as he repeatedly placed sloppy kisses on her jaw, a laugh erupting from her. "You swear you're family will be okay with it?" "Of course," he said in between kisses, his hands cupping her jaw, "They love you, I love you, we want you there," his nose brushing against her as she leaned forward to finally kiss him on the lips, but he backed away slowly to say one last thing. "And even if they didn't, it's my day, and I need you there," he finally gave in and kissed her on the lips.

She smiled into his mouth, fingers gripping at his cotton shirt, she pulled away and nested her forehead against his, “I'll be there," she mumbled as he moved up and once again kissed her sweetly.

ꕥꕥꕥ

The NHL awards ceremony was held in Nashville, two days prior to the draft, it was a nerve-racking day for the Hughes family as they awaited the outcome of the Lady Byng Trophy in hopes of Jack winning. This meant that her attendance at the draft worked out much easier than she had anticipated.

She had gotten herself a maroon-coloured body con dress, that matched his suit, a detail that she and Julia had worked out to make the couple’s outfits more coherent. Adam was at a loss for words when she appeared at his doorway just hours before his name would be called at the 2023 NHL Draft.

Her hair fell just past her shoulders, curled at the ends, and her makeup was done subtly to really bring out her flawless features.

“You look perfect” he stuttered with a grin as he shut the door behind her, his cheeks warm as he really took in how her dress complimented her curves. Hands finding her hips as she spun around to be face to face with him, Y/n smiled up at him before going up on her tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his lips, “You don't look so bad yourself” she whispered as his smile grew.

Adam took her by the hand and spun her around to admire her one last time, “where are your brothers?” he mumbled as she grinned at his dazed expression. “Luke is with Gavin and Luca by the bus, and the other two are with our parents,” she said fixing the strands of hair falling into his face. He pulled away slightly panicked, “The bus is here?” “Yes but you still have twenty minutes till you have to be down there,” she said softly as she reached into her clutch for a wrapped gift box, “I got you a little draft present for your big day”

She pushed him down onto the hotel bed, Adam looked at her confused as he held his hands out, and she gently placed the box in his palms. “What is it?” “Just open it you dummy,” she grinned as he ripped the wrapping paper off of it, the smile on his face turning into a look of shock as he pulled out a gold chain.

He looked up, biting the inside of his lip as he stared up at Y/n, whose face was laced with pride, “You got this for me?” “It matches the one you got me for Christmas” She grinned as her finger hooked the gold chain around her neck, a tiny “19” charm that hung from it. Adam's face softened as he pulled her into his frame, his hands found her face as he kissed her softly.

"I love you," he mumbled in between kisses as her hands played with the hair at the back of his neck. She pulled away, her hand now on top of his as she intertwined their fingers, "I love you too," she smiled and kissed his temple, "I'm so proud of you, now let's go get you on that bus."

ꕥꕥꕥ

The Fantilli family found their assigned seats, "sit next to him," Luca whispered to Y/n as she shook her head and pushed him in the direction of the seat next to his brother. "You're his brother and best friend, this is your day just as much as his," she grinned and gave him a side hug before taking the seat two chairs down from her boyfriend.

Her three brothers who had also decided to attend the draft while they were still in town came up to the Fantilli's to congratulate Adam on his upcoming placement. Luke grinned at his younger sister as he watched her converse with Julia and Ellen, a small smile on his face as he watched their families mingling and getting along. A happy feeling for her in his chest, even after his short term of disapproval, he knew at this moment that she and Adam were a forever type of love.

Adam sat down by himself as their two families conversed, and stared off into space as he watched the minutes countdown. Y/n watched him from afar giving him a second to take it all in before she moved down a seat to hold his hand, "nervous?" she asked quietly. "It's overwhelming, but I'm so ready," he said, thumb rubbing against her knuckles as he finally looked at her. "This is your dream, enjoy it all," she said smiling before raising their hands to place a kiss on the back of his.

"I'm still not over how good you look in this dress," he whispered as his eyes raked over her once again. "Yeah?" "I don't think there is a single adjective in the English language that could tell you how hot you look in this dress" he laughed as her face heated up. "I would have been happy with a simple beautiful," she said fanning her face to stop any further appearance of being flustered, “you’re so cheesy.” "Beautiful doesn't even begin to cover it" he mused as he squeezed her hand.

An hour had passed and all of the draftees family's found their seats. The time had come. Nashville's head coach walked onto the big stage and started his opening speech, welcoming everyone who made the effort to come out in support of the draft.

It was well known in the hockey community that Adam was projected to go second or third to either the Ducks or the Blue Jackets, so as the general manager for Anaheim walked onto the stage Y/n couldn't help but find herself gripping the arms of her chair tightly, breath caught in her throat as she watched the man make it across the stage and to the microphone just to call out Leo Carlsson’s.

Her hand reached out for Adams as she watched his knee bounce in her peripheral vision. Two minutes now on the clock for the Blue Jackets

Jarmo Kekalainen cleared his throat as he stood in front of the microphone, "With the third pick overall, the Blue Jackets are pleased to pick from the University of Michigan, Adam Fantilli!" he announced over the mic making the entire family stand up with teary-eyes, cheering as Adam broke out into smiles.

He went down the line hugging his brother first, Luca was teary-eyed as he swayed his brother back and forth, then onto his parents who were still in shock. Finally, he made his way up to his girlfriend who smiled softly at him, tears in her eyes as she pulled him into a hug, "Take it all in, love" she whispered as he pulled away and kissed her quick on the mouth. "I love you, see you later" he couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he made his way up to the big stage, trading in his maroon suit jacket for an blue, white and red jersey, posing for photos before heading off for interviews.

"Looks like you're moving to Ohio," Luca laughed, wiping his eyes as he nudged Y/n. "Always knew I was meant for wag life" she mumbled as Luca pulled her into a hug, "I'm so emotional right now," she said still crying into his neck. "Me too," he laughed as the tears came back.

-

-

-

[clockwork-ashes]

Mirrors

The Lady of Autumn had a name, although she was hardly ever called by it. Like a fading tapestry, once bright colours muted over the years, a whisper of what had been.

Summary: The Lady of Autumn has a difficult conversation with her eldest son (one-shot).

Find more Autumn Court one-shots here :)

The Lady of Autumn had a name, although she was hardly ever called by it. Like a fading tapestry, once bright colours muted over the years, a whisper of what had been. 

Callista.

Chosen by her father, a name both sharp and beautiful, perhaps a wish that she would grow up and be the same. The male who had raised her was centuries dead, along with the rest of her family, and Callista was achingly alone. 

There was a certain reverence to each of her titles, she could admit, thick as blood as they fell from the lips of those around her. 

Lady. 

Wife. 

Mother. 

The last and worst of them all, like a knife taken to her chest each time it was uttered, a reminder of everything she had never wanted. 

“Mother.” The crack of a whip, harsh and unexpected, even after the countless years that had passed. Time moved slow as honey, and the word was no less difficult to bear. 

With a wince, Callista looked up at her eldest son, feeling small in front of his towering frame. The corridor they were in was empty, torches flickering and casting long shadows on the stone walls. There were no windows, making it seem as though it was late at night when Callista knew the sun had just gone up, had watched as she did every morning as it inched over the horizon. . 

Lovely and sharp like shards of broken glass, Eris scowled. 

Callista knew he looked like her, it had always been the case. Nobles and servants alike attested to their similarities, like mirrors, they whispered, meant as a compliment she was sure. 

Firstborn, heir to the throne, Eris had never smiled as a child. Hair scarlet as fresh blood, eyes amber gemstones, pale as bone and cruel in his beauty, he still reminded her of Beron. 

Eris’ full lips were pulled down slightly at the corners in a frown, and Callista hummed in response.

“Have you been listening?” Eris questioned, and she could hear the disbelief whirling in the words. 

“Of course,” she waved a hand dismissively as she told the lie. Her mind had been elsewhere and she did not feel like explaining herself to her son. 

Eris’ lips curled up slowly, the smile empty as his eyes flared with embers in annoyance. “Then I won’t repeat myself.” He shrugged, the movement elegant even without an audience there to witness it. “Lucien’s bags are packed and we’ll be in the eastern territories, should anyone ask.” 

As though she were a puppet with her strings pulled taught, Callista straightened her spine, the sound of blood rushing to her head loud as a river in her ears. “Why?” She managed to ground out, worry deep in her gut. 

Eris raised an auburn brow at her, false confusion on his face. “It’s as I’ve said.” 

Quick as a snake, her fingers fangs, Callista grabbed onto the High Lord’s heir. Flames flashed in her russet eyes as she spoke. “Don’t play games, Eris.” She was not in the mood, and she hoped her tone suggested as much. 

“Never,” he clipped, attempting to pull away. Callista held firmly to the sleeve of his shirt, and Eris let her. “Fair to say you hadn’t been listening?” 

“Speak, Eris,” the demand was rough, and she felt as Eris bristled, although nothing of the sort showed on his face. 

Eris clicked his tongue, mocking despite how serious Callista was. “One of these days, you’ll find that I should be unwilling to help you.” It could have been a threat or a promise, but Callista was not certain.

“Not this day,” she snapped, feeling her cheeks heat with anger. The torches in the empty hallway flared around them. “Do I have to beg you?”

Eris pulled his arm back with a scowl, looking very much like his father. He straightened his shirt with a stiff gesture. “Have I ever asked you for such a thing?” 

“Hardly seems like you’re above it.” 

For decades, there had been a strain between them. Beron’s favourite son, the child she had never wanted but loved despite it. Complicated and entirely out of her control, she could still remember crying when Eris had been born. It had only gotten worse as the decades had passed, as Lucien had grown. 

Perhaps it was hurt that flashed starbright on Eris’s lovely features, but as soon as it had appeared it was gone. Expressionless and cold as ice, Eris spoke. “If you’d been paying attention, mother, you would have heard that father doesn’t want Lucien in the Forest House.” He scowled as he continued,  “at least for a little while.” 

“Why?” She asked again, praying Eris would give her an honest answer.  

“To keep him away from you, he told me,” Eris’s gaze was searching. “You spoil him.” 

“He’s a sweet boy, everyone spoils him,” Callista said, her mouth tight. That much was true, she had seen it with her own eyes, how charmed the entirety of Autumn was with her youngest son. 

“Father gave Lucien one of his daggers, you know the one with the fox hilt?” she nodded, unsure what Eris was about to say. “His to keep, first weapon handed from father to son.” Tradition, Callista knew, was valued in Autumn, where a change in power had not been had for centuries. “Would have been heartwarming,” Eris said, a restrained anger in his tone, “If not for the fact that Lucien’s eyes shone gold as daylight to ruin the moment.” 

As though she had been struck, Callista reared back. Beron had known since Lucien had been born, had seen fit to punish them all for her infidelity, but Lucien had still been claimed as his seventh son. Protection and a curse all at once. The shame would have been too great, Beron had said, to have a disloyal wife and a child that was not his own. 

“Eris–” 

He raised his hand to silence her. “Is joy to blame? Sunbright eyes only when Lucien is happy?” 

“Yes,” Callista breathed, her nerves getting the best of her, panic a near unbearable weight on her slim shoulders. She smelled copper, the sharp tang of blood, and thought it was her own. It took her a moment to realise that Eris had bitten through his cheek, an anxious habit he had inherited from her. 

Mirrors. 

“I’m taking him to my home in the east,” Eris said softly, attempting to comfort her. “Handle your husband and send word when we can return.” 

Callista felt tears embarrassingly begin to form at the corners of her eyes. “Can I say goodbye?” Her voice was small and she felt pathetic, like a horrible mother, her curse to bear. 

Eris looked ready to deny her wish, but perhaps he sensed her despair, her worry in the face of the unknown. With a sigh, a hand running through his hair, Eris offered her his arm. “I think Lucien would be devastated if you didn’t.” 

Relief rained over Callista as she gently held onto her eldest son. “Thank you, Eris,” she said ever so quietly. 

Eris did not respond, and Callista wondered if he even heard her.

[makeitmingi]

Cause Baby You're My Muse [Chapter 53]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.2K

"Are you done with your breakfast?" You asked Haneul. She nodded, going to put her dishes in the sink and washing her hands. You ushered her into the bedroom.

"Sorry, you'll have to stick with me for a bit, baby. Until I get your school sorted out." You told Haneul as you dressed her.

"It's okay, unnie. I can read while you work!" She giggled. You wished you were like Haneul, open and happy to accept the new challenges ahead of you in an entirely new country. But you were scared to do this all on your own. Your support system was gone, this was your new home now.

"Thank you." You kissed her forehead and stood up once she was dressed. Haneul waited patiently for you to get ready. You also packed some snacks for her to have if she'd like.

"Alright. Let's go." You held her hand and left the apartment. You called for a cab to take you to the office building.

"Wow, it's huge." Haneul said in awe, pressed to the window, as the cab pulled up to the building.

"Thanks. Keep the change." You handed the cab driver the money and ushered Haneul out. Habitually, you bowed to the doorman that opened the door for you.

"Hi, can I help you?" One of the guards asked in English, probably cautious of you in a mask.

"Umm, I'm looking for-"

"Producer Indigo!" Someone shouted in Korean. You and Haneul turned around to see a lady rushing over to you. She was dressed in office wear, with files and papers in her hands. You bowed gratefully to the guard and headed over to the woman.

"I'm Kim Yoojin. Nice to meet you, it's an honour." She bowed, reaching out to shake your hand. You chuckled and bowed to her too as you shook her hand.

"This is Haneul." You introduced. Haneul shyly clung to your leg as Yoojin waved to her.

"Come, I'll take you to your studio." Yoojin waved for you to follow her. Haneul held your hand and walked alongside with you.

"We know you're still in the process of getting Haneul situated into a school here. But in the mean time, if you'd like, we do have a kids play area that is supervised for parents that bring their kids."

"That's good to know. Maybe I'll check it out later. Thanks." You nodded your head.

"Here we are. Producers are on the second highest floor, after our CEO's floor." She told you, holding the door open for you.

"We've set up the furnishings of the studio as per your request. The equipment you have sent over from Korea have not been touched, they're still in the packing boxes." She explained. You nodded, looking around the rest of the floor. There was a small coffee and snacks pantry bar right at the front.

"Here we are. Producer Indigo." She opened the door. The door had your name on it. The studio was big, a lot bigger than you had expected it to be.

"So the pantry out front is free for all. This floor is restricted access so you shouldn't have to worry about security." She assured.

"It's a lot bigger than I thought." You noted.

"Our branch in Korea told us to make sure to arrange a big studio space for you during your time here." She smiled. You couldn't help the small snort that escaped you.

"Should have known." You put your bag down. Before you and Yoojin spoke business, you sat Haneul down on the big chair for her to colour of read, she was fine and could entertain herself for a bit.

"Here is your company tag, it will be your access card to different areas around the building." She handed it to you.

"This was a map of the building and your company issued tablet." She laid the items out.

"And this is your company welcome bag, there's a hoodie, zip up jacket, shirts, shorts, all that." She chuckled as you looked through the bag. This was a lot of stuff but you guess it was all for the branding. Even Yoojin seemed a little embarrassed by it.

"If you want any more, just let me know and I'll procure them for you. I'll be your main point of contact since I handled relations between the American and Korean offices." She informed.

"Alright. Thanks, Yoojin." You nodded, putting everything aside for now. It was a lot to handle at one go.

"You've settled into your apartment, okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's fine. Thankfully, I've had the past week to settle in. The area is good, safe and there's an asian mart nearby so I don't have to go far to find what I need." You explained.

"That's good to hear. I know it's not easy uprooting and coming here with Haneul alone. But I hope your time here with us is productive and fruitful." She smiled softly, genuinely meaning that.

"I hope so too."

"I'll leave you to unpack and settle in. This is my card with my number. Let me know if you need anything, regarding business or not." She giggled. You knew what she meant, she wanted to be friends outside of work. Maybe you could but now, you were patching up the wall around your heart.

"Thanks for your help, Yoojin. I don't know how I would have managed all this on my own. And putting together the list of schools for Haneul." You bowed.

"Oh, no need to thanks." She blushed.

"Welcome to HYBE, Producer Indigo." She wished with a soft smile before leaving the studio.

In Korea before you left...

Ever since you got that message from Pdogg, asking you if you'd like to sign to Big Hit, you've been transparent and honest with Eden about it. Surprisingly, Eden was more encouraging about it.

"If you really want exposure and experience, Big Hit and HYBE is the right way to go. They're internationally known with great connections. It's a great opportunity, Indigo. I would say, don't be so quick to turn it down, consider it." He told you.

"A good thing about Big Hit is that their foundation is a little like our own. BTS started as they're self-producing idols, I'm sure you know that." He added.

"I know. 3 of their rappers do a lot of producing and lyric writing." You nodded your head.

"So I think it's good. You'll be working with the great producing team there AND the idols themselves, rather than working in a more... song-factory type environment." He chuckled.

"But-"

"You'll always be friends with Ateez and everyone in Edenary. They would want you to do this for yourself." He already knew what you were going to say.

"Thanks for the advice, Eden. I will think about it." You smiled. He nodded and patted your shoulder.

Eden's encouragement gave your courage to actually consider the offer. And after discussing it with Eden, you decided to tell CEO Kim. You didn't tell him because you wanted a raise or extra company benefits. But knowing that he did want you to stay, you wanted to let him know there were other offers.

"I won't break my contract, CEO Kim, I promise that. I'm not sure what my decision is yet but I know for sure I'll work until the end of my contract." You promised.

"That's a relief then, Indigo. Big Hit is a really good company to work in, especially for a budding producer like yourself. A lot of people would have ran to them immediately." He said.

"I wouldn't do that to you, Eden, the Edenary members and the Ateez boys." You shook your head.

"But I do appreciate you telling me." He added.

"Of course, sir. I felt that it was only right to be transparent and honest about it. But as I have told Eden when I first informed him of the offer, could you please keep this to yourself?" You requested.

"Not tell Ateez, you mean?" He chuckled. You nodded your head shyly.

"I just don't want to distract them or make them worry about it. They have a comeback and a lot of other things to think about. I wouldn't want to add to that with this." You explained yourself. CEO Kim nodded and shook hands with you.

"Alright. There's no rush. We'll see what your decision is at the end of the contract." He smiled.

So the two knew since the start about your offer. They never treated you any differently and you kind of pushed it to the back of your mind, especially after getting together with Mingi.

For a while, you did consider staying on, growing alongside Ateez. Not just because you were close friends but also you synergised well musically.

"Unnie?" Haneul stood in front of you, tilting her head in confusion when you saw you spaced out.

"Oh, sorry, baby. Did you need something?" You asked. She shook her head but came up to sit on the couch, her book in her lap.

"I'm going to start unpacking and setting up some stuff. Snacks and water are in your backpack so help yourself, alright?" You smiled softly and reached out to stroke her head. She nodded her head with an excited smile. Since she was distracted with her book, you got to unpacking your equipment.

"Unnie, can I help?" Haneul put her book to the side and got off the couch. She carefully made her way to you, avoiding the items on the floor. She peered at you curiously.

"Can you hand me the blue wire over there? Be careful." You cautioned. She nodded and went to pick up the loop of wires.

"This?" She held it up.

"Exactly. Thanks, baby." You connected your monitor to the rest of the system. With Haneul acting as your little assistant, you managed to set up everything.

"That's me!" Haneul exclaimed happily when she saw you take a photo of her out of the box and put it on the shelf.

"There's big princess." She took the photo out of you and Mingi that you used to have on your desk. When you didn't take the photo from her, Haneul 'helped' you by putting it on your desk since she couldn't reach the top shelf.

"Haneul..." You didn't know what to tell Haneul. No matter what happened, you wanted her to have a good impression of Mingi and still 'like' him.

"Do you not want big princess' photo?" She faltered a little, clutching onto the photo as if she was worried she had done something wrong.

"It's fine, baby. Thank you, you're a great helper." You smiled softly, reaching out to pat her head.

You had found a group photo at home, left on the counter. It was you and the boys at M Countdown, during your first win. You've never seen the photo before but found it when you were unpacking.

'I got the photo developed and printed for you to preserve the memory of your first M Countdown win! Congratulations, baby! To many more wins together!

9 makes 1 team

- Mings ♡'

Mingi's handwriting was on the back. Then it dawned on you that was how he found out. He probably went to your studio to find you and found it empty, which led him to your home, catching you in the midst of packing your home to leave. It was still a fresh, hurtful memory that made you choke when you thought about it.

Some of the boys were still trying to reach you through messaging apps. They stopped trying to call, probably knowing that you were overseas either from the dial tone or from Mingi.

The only one you've been in contact with was Jongho. And that's only because you didn't want to break his relationship with Haneul.

"Can I eat my snacks, unnie?" Haneul asked.

"Of course but not too much, we'll go get some lunch soon." You nodded, breaking out of your thoughts. You continued setting up your studio, arranging the smaller items like your notebooks.

"Also, if you feel tired, you can sleep." You told her, knowing she was still adjusting to the time difference.

"I'm not sleepy." She pouted.

"Alright." You chuckled. You knew very well that she would be tired later. Opening the small boxes of drinks that was ordered for you, you stocked the mini fridge. There was a small tray you put on top to put some of your favourite snacks too.

"This calls for a small break. Want to go explore the building, baby?" You asked her, going to get a wet tissue to wipe the snack crumbs from her hands. She beamed and nodded excitedly.

"Let's go wash our hands properly first. And pee." You ushered her to the bathroom. When you were done, you navigated to the cafeteria.

"Wow! There's so much food!" Haneul looked up at you.

"Yeah... So many options..." You scratched your head, feeling a little overwhelmed and unsure of where to start. Haneul wanted to see all the options before making a decision.

"If you want something, we'll stop and order that." You informed. Haneul peered over the counter at all the food.

"Cream pasta!" She pointed happily.

Since you had your mask on, you got all the food in to go boxes, intending to eat in your studio. Haneul didn't seem to mind, even offering to help you carry two of the food boxes. You couldn't really decide so you got a selection of a few items that you knew Haneul would be more than happy to try.

"Could you press the lift button for me, please?" You requested. Haneul balanced two boxes in one hand, helping you press the button for the producer floor.

"There we go." You laid out all the food on the coffee table, pulling your chair over so Haneul could take the couch.

"So, baby, we've been here for a little over a week. What do you think?" You asked.

"I like it! Even if the clocks here are backwards." She scratched her head as she took a mouthful of pasta. You laughed, she was referring to the time difference.

"Well, I'm glad you like it here. It'll take a while for us to get used to living together and being in a new home." You said.

"I like living you with you, unnie." She giggled.

This was what you've been working towards since Haneul came into your care as a baby. For the time where she would be able to live with you and you could support her. And now, you didn't have to fear the threats or look over your shoulder, worried about her safety.

"I like living with you too, Haneul. I'm glad we can finally live together like a family." You smiled softly, reaching out with a napkin to wipe the sauce off her cheek.

"But we're not a full family." She stated.

"What do you mean?" You blinked in confusion.

"Because the oppas aren't here. They're our family too but they're in Korea so we're not a full family." She shrugged, poking a chicken nuggest with her fork to eat. You froze at her statement.

"R-Right..." You stuttered and forced a smile. She didn't notice how you faltered, more interested in the food selection.

Despite setting up her calls with Jongho, you never spoke to him. It was best to keep it this way. If you spoke to him, you were afraid that you might be tempted to ask how the others were, to know how Mingi was holding up. But you knew you didn't have the right to ask since you were the reason he wasn't in a good condition.

So you "avoided" catching up with Jongho, only exchanging hi's and bye's before you handed the device to Haneul for her to speak to him.

You figured he didn't tell the others he was still in contact with Haneul. Maybe it was best to keep it that way.

Like you told Seonghwa, you would give it a while before contacting them to start up a conversation and let them know that you were okay. You needed to be away for a while.

"You know, baby, I saw some yoghurt outside at the snack bar. Shall we go get some as snacks later on?" You brought up.

"Yes! Yes!" She cheered.

"Joong oppa and I always share yoghurt. He should have a yoghurt fridge at work too so he can have all the yoghurt he wants." She thought out loud, ending with a happy giggle.

"Maybe..." You nodded slowly, picking at your food.

After the lunch food was finished, Haneul was a great helper with cleaning the table and bringing the empty food boxes out. She got some colouring out to do. While she was distracted with that, you sat down and began to do some work.

'How's America? - Eden'

'Eden! It's great to hearing from you. I've spent the last week or so unpacking and settling into the apartment. Today's my first day of work so it's also just been unpacking equipment. - Indigo'

'I'm glad you're settling in well. I met some of the Big Hit producers for dinner the other day and EL CAPITXN is excited to have song camp with you. - Eden'

'I'm really not that good... I'm gonna be a nervous wreck when it comes to my first song camp. - Indigo'

'We all know you'll do fine. - Eden'

'And now that you're in America, there is a whole different culture there with the way they work. It'll be a good chance for you to learn some things from them. - Eden'

'Agree. Thanks for keeping in touch, Eden. Even thought I told Seonghwa I wouldn't be contacting them for a while. - Indigo'

'That's understandable. You might drop everything and run back to Korea. - Eden'

'That's exactly what I told him. - Indigo'

You didn't chat with Eden for too long. You were both busy and you already had some work to do. The work you were given was from the Big Hit in Korea. You were just working and staying in America to learn from the producers here and gain some experience in working with as many people as possible.

"Hey, baby. Do you want some-" You stopped mid sentence when you turned around to see Haneul asleep. Her head bobbed as she slept, her colour pencils around her while the book stayed in her lap.

"Told you, you would be tired." You chuckled, standing up to go to where she was. You carefully cleared the pencils and colouring book.

Once you were able to lay her down, you put her rabbit and giraffe in her arms, grabbing the blanket to cover her.

"Sleep well, baby. I love you more than you know." You kissed her head, making sure she was tucked in properly. Before going back to work, you dimmed the lights.

"Okay, where were we?" You sighed and put your headphones over your ears.

~

Series Masterlist

[sapphos-ode]

Ohhh how about an angst & fluff Lady D fic?

I Wish You had Died Instead

Alcina Dimitrescu modern? au

I’m not the most confident writing angst so I hope this suffices! And I’ve opted to focus more on the angst, there’s really no fluff here! Sorry again!

~

She could hear her three darling daughters shouting at each other as they got ready. Through the walls Alcina could make out the words ‘eyeliner’ and ‘stole’. She sighed to herself and opted to let the girls figure it out themselves. The woman gave herself a once over in the full length mirror, checking her curls were pinned to perfection and her make up free of flaws. To her chagrin she wasn’t able to wear a cream coloured dress, but for a wedding it was hardly suitable, so she opted for a deep red number. With a neckline that left little to the imagination but just enough be a tease. The dress itself was a from fitting one that only accentuated Alcina’s figure.

Once content with her look, she added a selection of jewellery and threw a sheer black pashmina around her shoulders. Grabbing her clutch she called out to her daughters as she descended the stairs.

With a few last minute quarrels the Dimitrescu’s were out the door and enroute to the wedding venue.

The ceremony was being held outside arches of flowers dotted the place whilst the sun shone down on the guests. The couple really had lucked out on the weather front. Alcina knew the bride, originally as a mutual friend but soon their own friendship grew over the years and so here she sat witnessing their vows being exchanged.

Alcina was overjoyed at this, her heart swelling with happiness for her friend however weddings in general always reminded her of a small black velvet box she had tucked away into her bedside drawer. A layer of dust clinging to it whilst the ring inside sat in pristine condition.

She ignored the slight sting in her heart and focused on the present. Her eyes focused on the couple and in doing so she failed to notice you sitting a couple rows in front to her left.

~

The ceremony was over and the drinks reception had started. People milled around with flutes of champagne as they mingled. Some checking the seating arrangement and others hunting down the bride and groom to offer their congratulations. Alcina was quick seek out the newlyweds, her daughters in tow. Offering heartfelt words with a strong hug to the bride. A curt nod for the groom. They conversed for a while before Alcina let them make their rounds.

For the whole drinks reception you and Alcina had managed to avoid each other. Not intentionally, you two just seemed to slip by each other.

Dinner rolled round and again, neither you nor Alcina would become aware of each other’s presence. It was a lovely meal and you made small talk with the others around your table - mainly asking how they knew they bride and groom. You sat next to your girlfriend. You had been together for almost two years now and you were as happy as ever with her.

~

Speeches were made, tables had been cleared, and most importantly the cake had been cut. Stephen Sanchez’s ‘Until I Found You’ started to play as the bride and groom began their first dance. A dull pain nestled itself in your chest, the song bringing forth distant memories of a past lover, tall, with dark ringlets and piercing storm blue eyes. You don’t realise the first dance comes to and end until your girlfriend is coaxing you up out of your seat onto the dance floor. Another song has started to play. And a few couples had already joined the floor. You giggle and follow her happily, immediately embracing and swaying in perfect time together. You think it’s ‘Yellow’ by Coldplay but you’re too focused on your partner to really listen. The pair of you are in you’re own world - none of the wedding guests exist to you. You steal a chaste kiss from her before nestling your head against her shoulder.

Alcina gazed at the dance floor with a melancholy smile. She’d never admit it but she was a bit of a sap for romance. Her eyes drifted from one couple to another, to a grandfather and his granddaughter, another couple, you and someone she didn’t recognise, yet another couple- her eyes shot back over to you. In disbelief. She didn’t trust her eyes, was that really you? And who with?

The woman didn’t know what to think. Her mind at war, had you moved on? How soon after? Why were you here? And why did she care? It had been just over five years since you had walked out on her. Not bothering to even glance back once. Abandoning her and her disgusted who loved you so dearly. She hadn’t forgiven you. Is what she wants to say to herself but the truth is she had forgiven you.

A tightness formed in her throat and her heart began to thrash in her chest. She quietly excused herself and left her daughters who were still watching the dance floor. Seems as if they hadn’t clocked on to you yet.

Alcina made a beeline outside, not wasting a second to light a cigarette and take a hasty drag from it. She found a small corner that provided her some privacy as she tried to calm herself. She was annoyed, it’s been half a decade and seeing you for the first time since that day shouldn’t affect her like this. She was over you.

With a lot of determination she silenced those thoughts and just focused on the cigarette. Taking deep controlled inhales and equally as slow exhales. She finished one but her nerves were still very much on edge, with a little guilt she lit a second. The angle at which she sat at meant she could see those who left the venue without being seen herself. And to her horror you and your… girlfriend, maybe it was just your plus one, a date, and nothing more. Alcina tried to soothe herself. Anyways, you and your lover had left the building for fresh air, hand in hand giggling about something. You stopped at a bench which was in perfect view for Alcina, cuddled up next to each other.

You were close enough for Alcina to eavesdrop on your conversation. She wasn’t listening in, she just happened to be that close that shoukd couldn’t not overhear is all.

“I was thinking, you know, with this wedding and all… Do you want to get married?” Your lover asked you. With a broad smile.

“To you specifically? Or just in general?,”

“Better be to me!” Your girlfriend slaps your arm in jest which spurs you to laugh.

“Wasn’t even that funny,” Alcina grumbles to herself.

“Hush, you phrased the question ambiguously. But yes… I would like to be married one day,” your voice took on a melancholic tone.

“Something on your mind?”

You take a while to respond, “no, nothing my love,”

‘My love’ coming from your mouth seemed to stab Alcina in the heart. She hated hearing you say that to someone else. Her second cigarette was half smoked before she stubbed it out.

She stopped listening as she fell into her own memories of her time with you. You were perfect together. Until you weren’t. Alcina didn’t know what went wrong… well, she did. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit that she was the one in the wrong. Her pride had got the best of her.

Alcina recalls, vividly, the many nights after you had walked out where she sent you text after text begging for a second chance, begging to you come back. Begging for you. The countless calls gray went through to voicemail, where she left emotionally raw monologues about how she missed you. How she needed you, and for you to please give her one more chance.

Now that Alcina thinks back on it, never once had she ever begged a past lover like that. You really were special. To both her and her daughters. You had met when Bela was only eleven years old, and soon became a parental figure to all three of the mini-trescus as you’d like to call them. Bela was fifteen, Cassandra fourteen, and Daniela twelve, when you had left. You bad explained in the best way to them all, why you were leaving without villanising their mother to them.

What Alcina wouldn’t remember, because she wasn’t present for it, were the nights you cried yourself to sleep in her empty bed, you’d also wake up raw and sore in the morning to the bed empty. She didn’t see all the dinners you’d made for her that went cold when she didn’t come home, and then shoved into Tupperware to be reheated for your lunch the next day. And Alcina certainly wouldn’t know about how a part of you resented her for not making time for her own daughters at the very least. You could accept the fact that you no longer meant anything to her. But you saw the dejected looks on her children’s faces, and they were too young to understand that it wasn’t because their mother didn’t love them.

Your partner ran inside to grab drinks for the pair of you. In the time you had alone you had looked around the garden, lush with grass and foliage. It was then that you caught sight of Alcina looking off into the distance, on a seat partially obscured by bushes.

~

“Alcina I just can’t do this anymore,” your voice cracked, tears threatening to spill, “ I- ”

“If you can’t deal with it then just leave! Don’t waste your time crying!” Alcina had cut you off, her voice laced with venom.

You were at a loss for words. Taken aback by her callousness. You mind wanders back to the start of the relationship. When she had been so sweet, so gentle and doting. The woman standing in front of you was nothing like the one you had fallen in love with. The Alcina who stood before you was almost a stranger to you.

Your voice came back to you, “Alcina?” Was all you could choke out. You expected anger but you also expected she would fight for you. Not give up so easily.

“What are you? Deaf, you stupid girl,” Alcina had taken to pacing the bedroom. Her brows furrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line. She scared you.

“Alcina I want us to work! I don’t want to leave you, or the girls!”

“Then make us work!”

“I can’t do it all on my own, Alcina you have to meet me halfway,” you felt anger creep up on you.

“I’m a busy woman, I don’t have time- ”

“I’m not one of your fucking interns wanting a good reference! I’m your girlfriend for fuck’s sake!” You surprised yourself with how loudly you had shouted.

In Alcina’s stunned silence you stormed out the room. Ignoring her calling out to you. Out the front door. Ignoring the rising urgency in her voice. And into your car, driving off into the night.

~

Alcina regrets that night, but that wasn’t the night you had left. You had returned once you had cooled down. And things were okay for short while, this always happened. You’d have an explosive argument, angry words were thrown around, you’d storm off and return withing a few days.

~

Alcina had thought you were on good terms and had cleared up a space in her schedule for a date night. Her plans were to propose to you during a candlelit dinner at a fancy restaurant in town but you had asked her to talk instead, when she got home, and she humoured you. But when she walked into her house something was amiss. Your stuff was all gone, she had no clue when you’d managed to do that… although she was hardly ever at the house what with being so busy at her office.

She’d found you in her bedroom, perched on the edge of the bed. You had been crying. Eyes red, and you looked entirely spent. Exhausted.

“My sweet darling, what’s wrong?” Alcina knew already but she didn’t believe it.

You look up at her with a broken look, you see the worry and concern on Alcina’s face and it breaks you even more. You don’t want to leave her, you still love her, you’re still in love with her. But everyone has a breaking point.

A charged silence fills the room as you stand up and hold her face. You kiss her softly on the lips, savouring the feeling before pulling away.

“Goodbye Alcina,” your voice is hoarse.

“What?” Alcina’s in shock as you gently brush past her.

She finds herself immobile until she hears the front door lock and a car engine start up. By the time she’s outside you’re long gone.

She calls out your name before falling against the doorframe as dons wrack her body, reality settling in. She’s now thankful for having Donna babysit her daughters.

For the next few weeks she keeps thinking you’ll waltz back into her home.

You never do.

~

Your girlfriend returns with two drinks in hand, “sorry babe, long queue at the bar,” she chirps. Settling next to you, and shuffling close.

You don’t reply, and at her silence she follows your gaze, “you know her?”

“I did… yes,” you answer softly. Sounding dejected.

“You okay?” She whispers into your ear. Voice laced with concern.

‘No’ is what you want to say. Because you’re not. It seems you hadn’t fully moved on from Alcina. How could anyone, being with Alcina, she was enveloping. Absorbing, and enchanting. There was no way of every recovering fully from Alcina. Something you still loved about her.

Alcina looks to and meets your eyes from across the grass.

“Yes, perfectly fine,” you look away and devote your attention to your partner.

Not out of malice or to hurt Alcina, but because you had to move on, it wasn’t fair on either of you. You still loved her deep down but not in the way you used to. And even if you did. You couldn’t bring yourself to go through that again. Even if she had changed.

Alcina thought, once upon a time, that one of the worst things that could happen to her would be your untimely death. But seeing you happy with someone else was infinitely worse.

She wonders, briefly, bitterly, how different things would’ve been, could have been, if she had got to propose to you all those years ago.

~

AN - sorry this is messy!

[qe-podfic]

Check out @lexarturo's FUNKTACULAR cover illustration for Chapter 1 of Quantum Entangled.

AHHHHHHHH. THIS ARTWORK MADE ME PISS BLOOD. /pos

Excerpt below cut:

Gosh, he was late! Anathema—Aziraphale’s formidable but quirky supervisor—was going to wring his neck like a repressed housewife in the 1960s, squeezing the last remnants of dirty dishwater out of a hand towel. Only, instead of soap bubbles, it would be Aziraphale’s bloodied guts spilling out onto the linoleum floor. Anathema was a kind young lady, but there was an unmistakable fire in her eyes. It was the fire of a girl who had gotten her doctorate in her mid-twenties. And, with nowhere else for her limitless passion—and it had to be limitless, because writing a PhD at forty wasn’t an easy feat; doing the same, in half the time, required about as much mental fortitude as one might expect (ergo limitless)—to go, she had adopted Aziraphale as a kind of pet project. If you knew her, and you were gifted with any sense of self-preservation, no matter how small, you wouldn’t willingly get between Anathema and her latest pet project.

Aziraphale was currently getting in between Anathema and her latest pet project.

Never mind that he was the pet project, he wouldn’t put it past her to learn the lost art of necromancy in the wake of his recently corpse-ified body, post-murder on account of tardiness. A trivial little thing like death couldn’t put a stop to Anathema Device. Perish the thought!  Supposedly—on account of some author or another—there were only two constants in life; death and taxes. The first of these we’ve already discussed. The second, according to Aziraphale’s blurry memories of the Device estate and its subsequent callous disregard for bookkeeping—books of prophecy excluded—was no obstacle either. In the wake of such revelations, Aziraphale wished to propose an amendment to the popular idiom. There were only two constants in life; ‘were’ being the preliminary condition. Because, once Anathema Device was born, death and taxes both tendered their resignations and held hands while they skipped gleefully into the sunset. Aziraphale hoped they had a holiday house, somewhere near the beach, where they could grow old together. He would do the same if he didn’t fear Anathema finding his proverbial vacation-inn and thoroughly beating the—proverbial or otherwise, Anathema wasn’t much fussed—ever loving crap out of him.

The dark storm cloud of his—Anathema themed—violent musings had brought Aziraphale all the way to the faculty staff room. Its thin pine door was a wooden board lacking stature, opulence, and foreboding, but trying its best to make up for it by acting as the sole barrier between Anathema Device and the outside world. It was a futile effort as Aziraphale, easy as anything, pushed it open—the lock had broken an indeterminate number of months prior, and no one was bothered enough to do anything about it—entering the domain of his supervisor.

“Ana? I know I’m late, but I’m here now if that counts for anything!” Aziraphale called, wafting the gift of crappy university coffee towards the hunched pile of sweaters sitting at Anathema’s desk. The sweater pile turned to look at him, revealing circular spectacles that enlarged the eyes beneath them. Her elk-fur coloured irises, blown out to proportions more fitting for an alien, or an animated bug in a Disney classic, were not tempered by the human habit of blinking. Anathema had mastered the unmoved stare by the age of four, she was not going to let her streak—almost three decades unbroken—end now.

“Aziraphale,” she said in a tone that implied that it could list your sins verbatim, without need nor want for breath. There was a moment of silence. Then, unlike herself, she sighed.

“You don’t even have a paper for me to demand a draft of yet. Neither of us have any work to do. For all intents and purposes, this is a social call. You can’t be late to a social call, Azzy. It begins precisely when it does, with no interest in the time it was planned for.”  Anathema explained, making Aziraphale feel a mite foolish, as she was often wont to do. Having deposited the lukewarm beverage onto her workspace anyway, he made himself comfortable in the cubicle-desk hybrid opposite her; where she was regarding the cup with the conditioned wariness of someone who had already known the taste of the grim sludge TadU had taken to calling ‘coffee’ these days. Her first sip wrestled a grimace onto her typically calm features, but by the time the second sip hit her tongue, she had acclimatised to the amalgamation before her. She continued drinking it, her exterior, at least, affecting unperturbed. Anathema was always more for the content than the aesthetics. In this case, the content was caffeine and the aesthetic was the offensive chemical concoction that contained said caffeine.

“I spoke with Crowley today,” Aziraphale remarked, apropos of nothing.

Anathema hummed appropriately, if not disinterestedly, before actually processing what he had said.

“The thesis guy you were so excited about? The one with the dissertation on primate social behaviours and their implications for modern notions of evolution?” Anathema probed, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“The very same.” 

“Holy fuck, Azzy. You’ve had the biggest crush—” Her words were interrupted by the swift interjection of one—rather embarrassed—A.Z. Fell.

“Academic crush. I value his unique perspectives,” he didn’t need to say more on the matter. It was a well trodden argument.

“Fine, you’ve had the biggest academic crush—” She coughed something that sounded an awful lot like ‘bullshit’ before continuing. Aziraphale offered her his handkerchief, regardless. Politeness was something he prided himself on, even when his friends were being obstinate hecklers.

“—on him for ages! This is big news! What did he say?”

Aziraphale floundered for a moment, unsure how to distil their brief meeting into something comprehensible. While most of Aziraphale’s conversations strayed into the territory of ‘a bit odd’, his exchange with Crowley was more than ‘a bit odd’ even by his—somewhat unusual—standards. No, the banter between him and Crowley ventured past the ballpark of ‘a bit odd’, beyond the neighbourhood of ‘somewhat peculiar’, and landed straight in the realm of ‘Weird Nerds saying Weird Nerd Things’—capitals included. Not that Anathema wasn’t a Weird Nerd herself, it was just that her particular brand of Weird Nerd veered more towards occult philosophy and historical chronology than it did towards quantum mechanics.

“He recognised me, actually. He mentioned my Master’s in passing and even asked for my number.”

Anathema knew all about Aziraphale’s MDiv, having friended him doing a joint research project on the Salem Witch Trials. This meant that she also knew, more intimately than most, how utterly boring his thesis was. Well, boring to anyone who wasn’t specifically that brand of Weird Nerd. It both surprised her and didn’t surprise her that Crowley was exactly that brand of Weird Nerd. Surely, for as prolific and expansive a researcher as Dr. A.J. Crowley was, it wouldn’t be beyond justification that his interests swept the dusty niche of Pauline Christian theology. But, on the other hand, it simply didn’t fit the vague sense of academic identity he carved out for himself. His debonair leather jackets and faux-suave saunter never seemed like a natural counterpart to the stuffy rigmarole of pastoral philosophy.

“Did he ask for your number? Or did you bluster your way into his contacts?” Her tone was suspicious, and not unwarranted. Aziraphale had—mostly by accident—ambushed himself into the texting roster of many a fellow bar patron, classmate, and—on one notable occasion—a critical care nurse. It was an unfortunate habit of his, coercing people into adding him as a new contact. Therefore, Anathema was not unfounded in her doubts.

Finding himself unwilling to explain it, Aziraphale just handed her his phone. Letting Anathema draw her own conclusions was often the best option available when she scented a curiosity. Upon viewing, she grimaced. First at Crowley’s comment about wanking on Bohr’s grave, and then at something she alone could parse. It was the kind of double take that only she could do. One where the art of it was that she could present the aura of looking away without actually taking her eyes off of the chat logs.

“He sends an awful lot of kisses, doesn’t he?” was the sole comment she graced him with.

“I think that’s just how he types,” Aziraphale returned, for lack of a more poignant remark. Anathema nodded solemnly, like the text chain in front of her was instead a trial record straight out of Salem. It was oddly familiar, an absurd echo from their early post-grad.

“Angel?” Anathema questioned—something wicked about her—as she reread the nickname, thinking that she might have misinterpreted.

“Oh! I’m afraid that’s an in-joke of a sort. Nothing as untoward as what you’re implying, dear girl! Ho ha!” Aziraphale chuckled with the odd inflection of a bad liar, even though he wasn’t—technically—lying.

“Sure.” Anathema snorted, as unconvinced as a woman of her intelligence should be when faced with such an awful performance. 

It was in the ensuing silence (an intentional silence, on Anathema’s part—she could break even the toughest of method actors with her intentional silences) that the telltale ‘bzzt’ of Aziraphale’s phone brought news of an incoming text. Faster than Aziraphale by whatever metric you wished to measure them—other than, perhaps, the metric of who could devour a pie, éclair, or other sweet treat fastest—Anathema ducked under the desk to read what she hoped to be another message from Crowley. Lady luck, as it appeared, was on her side (or was just pissed with Aziraphale for no particular reason).

“Angel?” she recited with all the dramatic flair of a thousand William Shatners thrown into a Kugelblitz black hole.

“Did your supervisor…” she paused for effect, and also to kick away Aziraphale’s reaching hands as he tried desperately to get the phone back.

“Actually kill you?!” she squealed, peals of laughter interrupting her very serious and not-at-all-over-acted sobs. Steadying herself with a slow breath, she retreated further into the cubicle half of the cubicle-desk hybrid.

“I might just have to avenge your death,” she read, voice gravelly as she felt the ‘script’—or ‘Aziraphale’s private texts’ depending on whom you asked—required it.

“—if they’ve truly gone and skinned you alive.” The message ended with two obscenely wet kissy sounds, paying homage to Crowley’s typical sign-off. Then, prim and proper as anything, she got up from the floor under her desk and handed Aziraphale his phone back. She had the grace not to laugh outright as he hastily scoured the message with greedy eyes of his own.

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