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malleleothreesome · 4 months

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Under the Mistletoe with Malleus

❤️ summary: Malleus' latest hyperfixation is mistletoe ༶༶༶ 💚 warnings: gender neutral reader, SFW, fluff, romance, Christmas centric but not religious ༶༶༶ ❤️ word count: 4k ༶༶༶ 💚 inspired by: this ask thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

Malleus listens intently to all the tales you have to tell, all the little pieces of your world, of yourself—all the little snippets that come rushing out from the recesses of your memories, painting a picture of your humanity and the universe you'd once inhabited. All the intricacies and details of how your family would spend Christmas, the foods, the gifts, the songs—he loves hearing all about your unique traditions and experiences. Malleus is endlessly grateful for each of these recollections that you decide to entrust him with—small moments of personal history that hold so much weight in shaping who you are. Your mind runs wild as your thoughts run rampant, a blur of vivid recollections that overwhelm you. Then, he sees the tears brimming on your lash line and the tremble of your lower lip, his heart sinking instantly when the painful weight of homesickness visibly crashes down upon you. His own emotions, his yearning, his gratitude are all clogged up in his throat. When the tears finally drip past your lashes and down your cheeks, you're swaddled in strong, firm arms that cradle you. Malleus doesn't bother with words as he shushes your sobs, only offering his comfort with the secure tuck of your frame against his larger form, and the gentle tracing of his elegant, gloved fingertips along the curve of your back in soothing circles. His soft humming is melodious against the crook of your shoulder, warm and welcoming as he surrounds you completely.

Wanting to make the Christmas season extra special for you, his dearest friend, Malleus spends copious hours poring over the plethora of holiday books he could acquire from the school library—reading and studying each festive tale, tradition, and legend until the pages are wrinkled with the oils from his fingertips. Each chapter carefully absorbed and ingrained into his psyche, his eyes sparkling alight with delight and fascination, relishing in the lightness and warmth of the holidays as he familiarized himself with this magical and jovial festivity. When Christmas rolls around the corner, Malleus ensures the front entrance to Ramshackle dorm is lit up and decked to the nines in brightly glowing lights strung all over the framework—an aura of luminescence and color enveloping the dilapidated architecture with festive spirit. The rest of the exterior of the Dorm was covered with glittering golden tinsel, wreaths, garlands and pinecones—whatever he had deemed as festive in his extensive research.

Malleus was determined to honor this strange holiday—a special and important part of your childhood—but unfortunately, none of the decorations, lights, or Christmas cheer were quite as meaningful and special as what he wanted it all to symbolize. When he heard about the tradition involving a parasitic plant, he was naturally intrigued by the idea that a plant would wilt away and die if not united with a particular organism—it could only flourish and thrive when entwined with its complementary other half. In return, the mistletoe would provide both beautiful flowers and ripe fruit, enhancing the lives of the forest around them and fostering harmony within the ecosystem. However, it was the usage of that plant during a kiss that truly made him delighted by its macabre nature and its value to this sacred human festivity. It seemed befitting somehow that the now dead mistletoe, the melancholy parasite that thrives in connection with others, could bring a measure of life and happiness to all who cross its path through a kiss under its eternal, desiccated embrace. Perhaps, this tradition could serve as his best effort to explain that this gesture was intended as a token of appreciation for the kindness you have extended to him—the pleasure and privilege of having you, such a splendid and bright star, in his dark and dreary world—his reward to you for making him feel alive with such an overwhelming sense of happiness that he didn't even know the sensation could exist until you entered into his life. For Malleus, you were the one to awaken him, to pull him from a long slumber and into your embrace, allowing him the privilege of knowing warmth, love, and joy once more. A ghost of a smile appears on his lips, unbidden, as he imagines the roots of the mistletoe spreading through both your lungs, finding nourishment in each other's energy, a complete symbiosis.

Malleus desired so much that your connection would be reciprocal, as intimate and profound as the magic of this holiday would allow. Though your relationship up until this point has remained platonic, he hopes the magic of this custom might give him permission to love and cherish you as so much more. From the moment he first laid his eyes on you, his heart had already made his decision. That fiery intensity of emotion for you has only been compounded with each meeting the two of you have shared—the yearning that only grows stronger with each moment he spends at your side. His feelings for you have reached a saturation point; the deep well of passion and affection that burns ever stronger within the confines of his chest will not be extinguished unless the source of all his turmoil is revealed and answered in due kind. At long last, he wastes no time in preparing the customary kiss. His heart yearns so dearly for it that even the constant tug of his usual shyness and trepidation could never possibly bring him to halt in his advances. Malleus promised himself that the delicate, thriving thing you and he were developing would not fall prey to the same pitiful demise as the mistletoe if left untouched and unwatered. If you did indeed feel similarly about him, he could only imagine the beauty and majesty that would blossom between your intertwined souls, a union of great and unstoppable potency, a lifetime of adoration and devotion.

Therefore, he procured a large branch of mistletoe, so ripe and abundant with sprigs that its small, white berries shimmered and shone. The hanging plant seemed to call out, in a sing-song tinkle of fairy bell laughs, for his beloved to walk underneath, so he could ensnare you in its clutches and give you an obligatory kiss you couldn’t refuse—or so he hoped. Malleus wrapped the strand with some festive red ribbon, decorated with twirling glittery snowflakes, making it shimmer under the twinkling rays of Christmas light. Then, he carefully balanced the mistletoe at the highest point above the doorsill and stepped back, admiring the way the golden glow of the lights would reflect off the glossy white berries, casting them in an ethereal iridescent glow that made them pop, dancing across its branches as though possessed by some Christmas spirit. They sang for you, just waiting for you to take Malleus up on their unspoken promise of his unrequited, hidden desires for your lips.

With that, Malleus knocked on your door. Though, despite his determination and his willpower—so vast and endless that his ambition was virtually limitless—Malleus couldn't help but be flustered, his hands trembling and sweat forming along his brow, heart rate beginning to rise like a swelling wave until he could hear it beating in his pointed ears. The silence that engulfed him was deafening as his mind replayed the myriad ways you might respond to his advances—sharing his sentiments, returning his affections, giving him the opportunity to finally love and kiss you the way he so desperately, hopelessly yearned. Or—perhaps, his advances could have an unwanted negative reaction, creating friction or even destroying your friendship—if not the very love he sought—completely. Undeterred by the looming anxiety that threatens to drown him like a tempest-wrought sea, his heart manages to remain valiant and brave, the steady rhythm keeping him tethered, ensuring him the courage to risk the possibility of breaking apart and dissipating with the winter wind that sieves through his lithe fingers.

As he hears the creaking footsteps along the old staircase inside, the adrenaline kicks in, giving him the fight or flight impulse he has been lacking, his legs stiffening, threatening to buckle from his immense nerves, knees trembling so harshly that he almost loses his balance. He shuts his eyes, trying to brace himself for whatever comes next, not allowing himself to breathe again until the knob finally gives way and the door is thrown open. At last, Malleus gazes upon your dazzling appearance, flooding his vision with an image he's dreamed about for weeks: you stand before him, bathed in the bright, effervescent light, glittering hues of gold and green like a present wrapped up just for him. Before he even allows you a moment to compose yourself and register his presence, Malleus can't help himself, the need to let his words rush out overwhelming him until his syllables practically stumble over each other.

"I wish to partake in the traditional parasite with you," he tells you quickly, trying to sound confident despite the urgent desperation to speak leaking through in his strained vocal chords, struggling to hide the shakiness that attempts to invade and taint the voice he wanted to convey his longing for you with. His words are filled with hope and trepidation, his emerald eyes wide with vulnerability as the mistletoe glistens under the shimmer of lights he personally strung up, bathing the two of you and your surroundings in a magnificent luminance that casts a perfect spellbinding glow upon the scene. Your mouth falls slightly ajar as your eyelids flutter in confusion before registering his intention, noticing the way his expectant eyes dart between your lips and the hanging plant above your door frame, his intense gaze giving you the most telling implication. The sudden realization of his motive renders your whole being paralyzed. Your face heats up from the sheer impossibility of the moment and your brain fizzles into a complete and utter daze, unsure how to comprehend the enormity of the offer he's extending.

An eternity seemed to pass as the seconds ticked on, his dark brows knitting together as the mist and tension seemed to wrap around the both of you. The sting of the cold wind whistled past the space that seemed to shrink between the two of you in unbearable torment. A curtain of lacy snow was falling around, shrouding everything in a dull glow. The night itself seemed to be in a strange sort of serenity and apprehension—watching his eyes lock onto you so intently and feeling his breath, hot and heavy, mingling in the frost between the two of you. The foggy mist of the cool evening air floats through your hair, tiny particles of frozen water suspended around you and shimmering brilliantly as the beams of multicolored lights shine past and illuminate each crystalline droplet in a celestial aura.

Despite it all, your focus was on him alone.

Finally, he was able to collect the breath stolen from his lungs and continue his confession, taking your floundering silence as an invitation for his explanation. "I had wished to spend some time with you under a mistletoe, even though this is something that humans usually do with their partners or loved ones..." he admits sheepishly. You couldn't stop the gasp that escaped your lips when you saw how glassy and emotive his eyes were, the sparkling lights catching the yellow flecks in his viridescent stare.

A shadowy flush washes over his pale complexion as he allows the words he had tried so long to repress to come flowing freely from his lips. "I've noticed how sad you seemed since you were removed from your world, and I wanted to bring you a little of the Christmas cheer you're accustomed to. I wanted to ensure we'd have a pleasant Christmas, especially with how often you've shown me such loving kindness," a sigh escaped his throat, "you've gone to such great lengths, I wanted you to know just how much you mean to me..." His fingers thread together anxiously as he continues his ramblings. "I was so excited to learn the Christmas tales, legends, and histories behind all the traditions... There is so much joy and good-will involved. It seemed a befitting way to honor our time together. As my beloved friend—," his tone holds a subtle note of reluctance to his last statement as he lingers on the term a bit too long. "I wanted to ensure your time in Twisted Wonderland wasn't depressing, and that you experienced Christmas as best you could under your circumstances." The more his sentences seem to elongate, the further he's pulled into himself and begins to overthink every minuscule aspect of his interaction.

The wind picks up slightly, blowing his silky, ebony locks away from his forehead, revealing the shiny scales that cascade up the top half of his head as his horns poke out through the billowing strands. His long, heavy cloak trails behind him, sweeping up the fresh piles of glittery snowfall, shimmering under the auras of the decorative lights he painstakingly strung for you. Malleus was so imposing in the darkness of the night—there's an ineffable beauty to it as his skin seems to emit its own soft glow. Yet, despite his frightening appearance, he appears so docile and timid standing before you with his head bowed, one foot dragging the toe of his boot along the white slush and ice, kicking clumps of snowy wisps, attempting to abate his mounting anxiety.

"...Are you aware, child of man, of the nature and symbolism of the mistletoe?" He pauses and peers into your eyes, emerald pools pleading for mercy as a crack opens within him, revealing his fluttering soul for your scrutiny, allowing you to glimpse his emotional state in a rare display. "Mistletoe requires the partnership and nourishment of another to keep it flourishing—without its partner, it will wither and die a gruesome death, gasping, desperate, starving..." The strain on his tone is audible, words full of unspeakable yearning as he pines so desperately, the loneliness of centuries seeming to distill within a single, all-encompassing desire for your acceptance and love. His Adam's apple bobs with a hard gulp of apprehension as he seeks the approval he longs for deep within your gaze, hoping he has finally found the love of which he has searched for since the first heartbeat he has taken.

"No matter where it falls, or how strong its stem or seed, it will perish without another plant to sustain and nurture it," his explanation was grave and yet somehow poetic, holding you entranced with rapt attention. Each sentence was meant to mimic his struggle—the endless waiting, and the desperate need for companionship that has weighed so heavy on his aching heart for so long. The solemn confession of a hopeless romantic, yearning desperately for the chance to take root, plant his soul and spread until all the ache was gone, replaced by the warmth and fulfillment of life only a partner could give him.

"And yet, if the two plants come into symbiosis with each other, the result is breathtaking—one would not expect something so simple would possess such transcendent beauty and vibrance," his melodic tenor takes on an ethereal quality, as the wondrous facts he learned are once again brought to the surface, replacing the melancholy in the air. "Mistletoe is capable of blossoming to life; producing flowers and bearing fruits when combined with its host, providing an environment for both plants to flourish and thrive," his heart picks up its pace at the subtle meaning and implication behind his words. "Once a healthy mistletoe becomes entangled with its beloved, the pair remain connected and thrive, ultimately strengthened by the bonds forged in interdependency, blooming brightly against the frigid temperatures of winter." Malleus' soul is brimming and bubbling over with the hope and anticipation of a relationship with you and, in an instant, Malleus understands what it truly means to be alive.

"Since you first crossed my path, the mistletoe within my chest grew with such ravenous appetite, longing to reach out to your heart and find harmony, sharing in warmth and nurturing life. You, my lovely starlight, are a plant of the utmost virtue," he gently caresses your cheek as you fall deeper under his enchantment. His words have rendered you completely immobilized, the smooth silk of his voice ensnaring you, unable to escape its sweet whispers and dulcet tone. "For the first time in all of my years, the bud inside me began to bear fruit and opened my eyes to a paradise I never thought possible. Through a simple act of your kindness, you have breathed life into my tired and aching heart and granted me new purpose." Malleus cups your face so delicately, long, tapered fingers stroking the curve of your cheekbones in loving affection. He gazes at you with glowing, adoring eyes, staring deep into the infinite possibilities of your future together. The soft plumes of the falling snowflakes softly embrace you as his feather-light touch communicates all his longing and unspoken passions. You allow yourself to bask in the tender and raw vulnerability of his heart as the glimmering lights and stars in the sky shine with the promise of a brighter tomorrow for you both.

"I had spent many years in unending isolation. Each passing second in your presence was the happiest, most indescribable euphoria. It took a considerable amount of time to discover these feelings and become aware that they are associated with the yearning for intimacy, something which I was denied for a great amount of my lifespan. I've long desired the things I've learned your Christmas legends signify," the words leave him on a wistful sigh, an endless source of elation. "Of family, comfort, love... All that I desire for Christmas is you," he concludes softly. "It was thanks to my research into the mistletoe that I realized how much I needed your lips as though without them I would never draw another breath, so I ask... Do you wish to be mine? Could I have the gift of your lips, of a kiss?" he requests breathlessly as the tip of his tapered thumb ghosts across the flesh of your plush lower lip, sending shivers throughout your whole being.

At last, the confessions of his affections toward you reach their inevitable resolution, allowing the culmination and coalescence of every feeling and emotion within his soul to burst forth like fireworks, shooting off into the midnight air in an explosion of beauty and intensity that would cause any witness to pause and stare in awe of the magic of the night. Like the soft, romantic tones of Christmas music and the enchanted glimmers of holiday lights, Malleus' spell woven in the lyrics of his confession engulfs you in an aurora borealis of ardent devotion. The feeling of his hands against your cheeks radiates warmth and comfort as he cradles your visage close, tender and secure against the soft flurries that flow all around you, surrounding you with an intimate aura of holiday mirth. You find yourself leaning into his touch as your heart and soul yearn to return the depths of his affection, so openly displayed across his handsome, captivating features. With a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, your knees threatening to buckle from his searing yet unyielding stare, you gather the strength to utter the most wonderful syllables you have ever experienced the pleasure of pronouncing—the sum of every single one of his blessings wrapped up neatly into one succinct phrase.

"I love you, too."

Your voice was shaky, unsteady, cracking under the emotion, but the message was unmistakable. The intensity of the moment rendered Malleus stunned and speechless, tears of delight stinging his emerald eyes, brimming at the waterline with the intensity of his joy. Every single day was spent thinking of the next instance where the two of you might cross paths and now, you'd just given him the most spectacular present in the world. Malleus doesn't think about anything else, he just leans in, lips parted ever so slightly, barely containing the gasping breath that escapes his throat as his nose nudges yours and his entire world collapses upon itself before igniting with an incandescence of pure elation. With all the delicate adoration of his whole, enchanted being, he offers you a sweet brush of his soft, inviting lips against yours. A whimper emanates from his mouth as a trembling sob of disbelief is unleashed, reverberating between the two of you and sending every last vestige of his restrained sentiment into you, engulfing your heart in a fervid embrace that crushes you with all the weight of his desperation—his centuries' worth of desire and craving for an end to his misery.

Despite having never been kissed, his lips moved confident and gentle, as though it were as natural as his very breath, or the thrum of his heart. The sensations were unparalleled—better than his wildest expectations as your flesh entwined with his, mingling the pliant texture and pillowy warmth. A satisfied sigh rolls past his tongue, which teases the seam of your mouth, offering gentle, fleeting sensations as he licks and teases your bottom lip. A series of jolts rock your frame when his fangs accidentally nip at the skin. The sound that leaks from his throat as he swipes his tongue over the wound and laps up the warm, metallic liquid of your blood is guttural and broken with the raw emotion of being deprived of such ecstasy for so long. It was heavenly—to finally be united and experience the taste of love, passion, and the transcendent rapture of the one and only person to ever make him feel such happiness.

He swallows every whimper and moan of your kiss, reveling in the sounds that permeate through your entangled forms and dance on the frosted wind. Your fingers come to thread through his silk-like locks, nails grazing his scalp until a shudder rattles his chest and his tongue can't help but invade the hot, wet cavern of your mouth. There's a subtle pressure placed on the base of your skull, adding a deeper angle, so that he may completely envelope and taste the sweetness of your saliva as you revel in each other. When the chill of the winter winds brings forth the full impact of the cold, and the mistletoe spins aimlessly under its icy breath, swaying above, you are undeterred in the bliss of your newfound love. Your noses smudge as you press yourself further, gaining deeper contact and savoring each brush of his deft, explorative tongue and the tickle of his heated breath fanning against the sensitive surface of your palette. The kiss sparks flames within you that make you forget the bitter chill, warming the deepest crevices of your core, staving off the frigidness of the night and replacing it with the cozy, fluffy heat of your love. You clutch desperately, latching onto the black tailcoat and pressing the muscles and softness of your bodies even closer, desperate for each touch, wanting him as close to your form as you can manage. The fullness of your feelings for each other, and the completeness of his confession, finally come together in a bittersweet, perfect dance of two souls. Forever bound, hearts thudding in unison as you two continue to exchange kisses underneath the mistletoe, filling this merry season with newfound glee and a holiday tradition all your own.

When you two finally make it inside, you sit comfortably with his arms wrapped around you atop a pile of plush blankets, surrounded by mounds of pillows under the twinkling lights of the massive tree he had erected and draped in garland. Next to him, there was nowhere better you'd rather be, snuggling deeper into his warmth, burying yourself in his embrace and cuddled tight under his heavy, weighted cloak as the roaring fire before you burned in a warmth that reflected that of the deep, profound affection the two of you shared for each other. As he held you in his lap, surrounded by the soft music playing in the background and the decorations he'd strung, he looks at you with excitement alight on his beautiful visage, eager to share more fun facts about his latest hyperfixation. With the shimmering lights refracting across the deep emerald pools of his gaze, he starts to ramble, "Did you know, mistletoe is also a sacred symbol of fertility—"

Woah, woah, woah, woah... I just spent all day working on this, its like, 10:30pm and now I'm just now eating mac and cheese for dinner. I really love what I created, I hope you all do too. This was fulfilling a request for my 12 Days of TWSTmas event, so uh, anon, I'm not sure if this is what you expected of me... I think I projected my own newfound mistletoe hyperfixation onto Malleus a bit too hard, but I hope this meets your expectations. I'm desperate to hear all your thoughts on this one, I really want you guys to love this as much as I do! I wish I had more to say here, but my brain is melting. My exhausted brain longs to sign this off like a corporate email. Best, Erica Malleleothreesome

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus x reader #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus x reader #malleyuu #twst imagines #malleus draconia fluff #my writing

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your-local-simp-writers · 22 days

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Enchanted Pages

Word Count: 408

Warnings: None

Lilia Vanrouge x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The quaint bookstore nestled in the heart of the city was a haven for those who sought the comfort of stories and the thrill of new knowledge. It was here, among the towering shelves and the scent of old paper, that your path crossed with Lilia Vanrouge’s.

You were both reaching for the same book—a rare edition of fairy tales that spoke of ancient magics and timeless adventures. Your hands touched, and you both retracted them quickly, a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“I apologize,” Lilia began, his voice a gentle lilt that seemed to dance with the dust motes in the air. “It seems we have similar tastes in literature.”

You laughed, the sound soft and melodic. “It’s quite alright. I’m just surprised to find someone else interested in such an obscure collection,” you replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Lilia’s eyes twinkled with a mischievous light. “Ah, but the obscure often holds the most enchanting tales, wouldn’t you agree?” he asked, his gaze lingering on yours.

You nodded, feeling an unexpected connection forming between you. “Absolutely. There’s something magical about discovering a story that’s been forgotten by time.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly from there, as if you had known each other for years. You discussed your favorite tales, the ones that had shaped your dreams and sparked your imagination. Lilia listened intently, his head tilted in that charming way that made you feel like the only person in the world.

As you spoke, Lilia’s hand brushed against yours, a touch as light as a feather, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the book still nestled in the shelf.

“Of course,” you said, stepping aside to give him space.

Lilia carefully pulled the book from its place, his fingers caressing the spine with reverence. “Would you like to share it?” he offered, his smile warm and inviting. “We could read it together, perhaps over a cup of tea?”

The idea was delightful, and you found yourself nodding before you even fully processed his words. “I’d like that very much,” you admitted, your heart fluttering with the prospect of spending more time with this intriguing stranger.

And so, a bond was formed, over shared stories and whispered secrets, in the cozy corner of a bookstore that felt like a portal to another world. It was the beginning of a tale that neither of you would soon forget.

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percyjavksongf · 6 months

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-𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤! 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐’𝟗𝟎𝟎

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

'𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭...𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐢𝐫...𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’

-𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐨𝐧

“Anne had come home dancing in the purple twilight across the snowy places. Afar-”

you noticed a small, curious hand shoot up in the corner of your eye and you had to hold back a laugh, shifting your gaze to the young girl sitting attentively in front of you, she was the last one to go home every evening but even as the hour grew late she was as alert as ever.

“yes, Aneria?”

“what does twilight mean?” she spoke in a whisper, already having been shushed twice this evening by the librarian.

“its when the sun has nearly set but there’s still some light coming through, like when the sky turns shades of purple and pink. Do you understand what I mean?”

Aneria nods in a serious way, she was by far your favourite out of all the children you read to in the library, although you know you shouldn’t have favourites she was the most intrigued by the stories you were instructed to read to the kids, who usually were in your care until their parents finished work. Todays read was Anne of Green Gables much to your delight, the story was a favourite of yours since you were Aneria’s age.

“now where were we, uh, yes. Afar in the southwest was the great shimmering, pearl-like sparkle of an evening star-”

“Gilbert Blythe is so dreamy, don’t you think?” you nod your head approvingly at Aneria’s statement, having grown accustomed to her frequent interruptions, she never meant any harm with them. “my mom said to me that she’s seen you walking around with a boy, is that true? She said he’s Sally’s son and I hope so, he’s definitely just as dreamy as Gilbert”

you struggle to compress a laugh at Aneria’s boldness, not surprised at the least that gossip has spread about you and Percy’s evening strolls around the borough, you just didn’t expect to hear about it in this situation.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about missy” you reply with a teasing grin, causing Aneria to whine in annoyance, “come on, I never got to know the truth in gossip”

“that’s usually because there’s not much truth in it, now will we continue reading?”

Aneria sat once again to attention, glad she had forgotten quickly about the topic of yourself and Percy.

“in the sky that was a pale golden and ethereal rose of gleaming white spaces and dark glens of spruce. The tinkle of sleigh bells among the snowy hills-”

a sharp voice echoed through the library making you cringe, “Aneria! Time to go home”

Aneria huffed and rose to her feet quickly, “coming mom!” she swung her bag over her shoulder before turning to you “can we finish the story on Monday?” you smiled and nodded warmly, waving goodbye as you turned to grab your own bags.

“so what happens next?” you gasp sharply and spin on your heels, sending Percy a sour look when he laughs at your shocked expression, “what are you doing in here?” you questioned with fake displeasure, which Percy knew well at this point. “I’m here to find out what happens next, duh” with that he plops himself down by your feet and stares up at you expectingly, you sigh but can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face when you flick back through the pages to finish the sentence.

“The tinkle of sleigh bells among the snowy hills came like elfin chimes through the frosty air, but their music was not sweeter then the song in Anne’s heart and on her lips” you look up from your book and catch Percy’s gaze, you watch each other for a couple of seconds until he blinks and quickly turns away, clearing his throat before shuffling to his feet, “well your book’s right about one thing, its frosty as fuck out there.” you’re quick to shush Percy with a giggle as you hear the librarian huff in annoyance. The two of you are quick to leave the library and step out into the icy street, a shiver runs up your spin and before you can say a word Percy is offering his jacket to you, “come on just take it, seriously I don’t need it” you take the heavy material into your arms gratefully, it slips on easily and you practically melt into it, the smell of Percy cologne lingers on the fabric and you can’t say you hate it.

The streets of Manhattan were dressed accordingly with the season, you adored how the city, as crazy as it was, always felt like something out of a movie this time of year, and if you hadn’t been in a trance watching the lights glimmer around you, then you would’ve felt the weight of Percy’s stare on the side of your face. You had grown accustomed to your shared walk home, Percy was working part time at the skate shop down the road from the library which delighted you both, with the busyness of school it was hard to find time to hang out. At first it was more of a ‘hey if I see you I’ll walk over and talk’ but now it was guaranteed that you’d find Percy waiting outside the Library leaning against the wall like a cliche from an 80’s movie, but instead of starting with a smooth pick up line he’d ask if you had known that sea horses are monogamous (you did not). Apart from the ocean facts yous two would talk about everything, home life, what you were learning about in college, Percy would never fail to mention his long distance friends Annabeth and Grover, he spoke about them so much it felt like they were your friends too.

“so what’s Gilbert like?” the question had you raising a brow at Percy, who faked innocence with a brow raise in return. A breath of warm air travels past your lips and you shift your gaze ahead at the flashing ‘tis the season!’ sign hanging off the Bodega Percy and you visit frequently.

“you heard Aneria talking, didn’t you?” you could practically feel the shit eating grin make its way onto Percy chill flushed face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but, if I did overhear how absolutely dreamy this guy is and you totally agree and think him and I are just alike-”

“I never said you two were the same Jackson, don’t put words into my mouth”

“I know you definitely think it though, even if you won’t admit it”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at that, you could go back and forth with Percy for hours and never grow bored. You have a feeling you cant get yourself out of this conversation though.

“any fish facts for me today?” you blink up at him, hoping it’s a good enough subject change

“you can’t deter me by fluttering your lashes, but we will go back to the fish facts after you tell me about my amazing twin” Percy bumps your shoulder and you nearly go flying on the icy footpath, his annoyingly gorgeous laugh encouraging you to shove him away from you and across the ice, unfortunately for you, Percy seems to hold himself just fine on it, dam him.

“well for one, Gilbert would never do that to Anne”

“oh, so you see us as Anne and Gilbert? How romantic”

“shut up”

a gloved hand reaches out to you and you stare at it suspiciously, though you do notice how he was wearing the gloves you brought him last winter, he complained for weeks about how cold his hands were and that you just had to hold them to keep him warm. The gloves were well received but you found he reached for you still.

“I don’t bite” he teases and you grab onto the hand, even after doing it so many times it still made your heart flutter.

“come here”

you let Percy pull you into him as you continue your walk, removing his hand from yours and you sigh at the loss of warmth, causing him to chuckle “don’t worry baby I’m not going too far” with that an arm wraps around your shoulder and pulls you close, in that moment your grateful for the cold, it’s a good excuse for your burning face. You feel yourself melt under his touch and allow your body to move closer into his, because it’s cold obviously, no other reason.

“so do you think Gilbert is more handsome than me?”

“I think he’s less annoying than you”

“you love me, don’t lie”

you do.

“did you listen to anything else Aneria said, or did you hear a complement about yourself and your brain tuned out”

“I heard that we’re the local gossip, you and I. My mom would be delighted if that were true”

your heart tugs painfully a little at that. it isn’t true, you have to remind yourself, but it feels nice to fall into a dream that it is.

You hum quietly in response and notice you’re only a few blocks away from yours and Percy’s shared apartment complex, Percy, as if sensing your disappointment, turns both your bodies away and continues down another street. Confused ,you send him a look that he returns with a smile “it’s a Friday night, we don’t have to go home now. Besides I though you wanted to go check out that Christmas market at union square?”

you stare up at Percy for a bit and just look, his redding nose and cheeks that complement his tan skin so well, his eyes, god, his eyes. They were always a source of amazement for you, you’ve never seen eyes like Percy’s, you always got lost in them, swearing that they changed into different shades of green and blue.

“I’m definitely more handsome than Gilbert” Percy’s face breaks out in a grin as you pull him towards the nearest subway station.

It was busy of course, like any Friday night in the city would be, Percy had managed to snag a seat for you two quickly and you raced to get yourself sat down before anyone else could come after it. Usually the cramped space made you uncomfortable but you never really minded with Percy, he didn’t seem to either with how he pressed his side against you.

An unspoken agreement to be as close of possible to each other was the norm for you too, you threw your legs over to hang in between his and wrap your arms around his arm closest to you, finally resting your head on his shoulder. You could stay like this forever, you think. Riding a cramped subway that had a familiar mixture of carolling and shouting, shuffling and bumping, crying and laughter. It’s like you couldn’t even hear the ruckus when you were tucked up with Percy, his head resting on top of yours, his strong hands resting on your legs, fingers tapping an familiar tune on your thigh.

You adored it.

“you know I don’t think this is going to help us mush out those rumours” you mumble into his jacket, still pressed firmly against you. Percy turn his head and presses his lips to your hair, “yeah I know”

you hum back softly in acknowledgment, the rush of having Percy so close to you was gorgeous. But after today, what then? You don’t mind the gossip and what if’s of strangers but the feeling of what if with Percy was becoming too much to bear, you didn’t want what if anymore. Percy, now having lifted his head to check out how far away you were from union square, gave you the opportunity to shift your head to look up at him. Sensing your gaze, Percy looks back down at you and admires how pretty your eyes looks gazing up at him through your lashes, the though makes him catch his breath and look away for a second, but you two were magnetic, drawn to each other and it wasn’t long until he was watching you again. His free hand came up to press against your cheek, reddened from happiness. “you’re so warm” Percy whispered, mostly to himself. You were always so warm, he used to joke that you were his portable hot water bottle. You lean slightly to press the fat of your cheek into his hand, just for a second, before moving back to against his shoulder.

“fuck” Percy says to himself again, you shoot him a confused glance and he squeezes your knee in return

“whats wrong? Do you need me to move-”

“no, no, stay there you’re good, you’re so good” the breathiness in his voice combined with his dark eyes freezes you. This felt different, this was all so new to you.

“I just really wish we weren’t on this subway right now, I don’t think Gilbert would kiss Anne on a subway train”

you don’t fight the laughter that echos out of you, of course he’d be worried about something like that

“Percy, I think Gilbert would do that. Besides I don’t care about what Gilbert would do, I don’t like Gilbert”

“well I hope not cus’ I’d be heartbroken”

“oh really”

“truly”

the train pulls to a halt and Percy rushes to get yous off, your laughter accompanies his movements as you both run up the stairs into the cool night, glancing at each other every few seconds. The streets were alive and bustling, you gripped Percy’s hand tightly as he pulled you away from the crowd to the side of a Bodega, squeezing your hand every few seconds as if to make sure you didn’t disappear.

his hands shook gently in yours and you squeezed them tight, you both stared at each other for what felt like a lifetime, you could feel the nerves creeping up on you now.

“Percy..”

“I know”

the loss of his hands in yours was quickly fixed by his hand cupping your face, the wool was comforting against your skin for a moment before it was gone, replaced by Percy’s now ungloved hand.

“i’m sorry this isn’t as pretty as Hester Grey’s old garden” Percy whispers, his thumb running over your cheek

“you have read Anne of green gables” you spoke back accusingly

“my mom read them to me as a kid”

Percy pulled you closer until you stood chest to chest, you tilted your head up and brushed his nose slightly “hey Percy?”

“mh?” you felt hypnotised under his gaze, his eyes almost seem to have darked. You’ve never been so close before.

“please kiss me”

“as you wish” is mumbled against your lips, you can feel his nose pressing against your cheek as he’s kissing you, his mouth so warm and firm against yours. Your arms snake around his shoulders as his hands slide down your back and settle on your waist, gripping tightly. You know that the word will spread by tomorrow morning about the Jackson boy getting handsy outside the Bodega and it makes you smile against Percy, he only pulls back for a second to catch his breath, hands never leaving you once

“do you want to go to the markets?” you take a second to admire how messy Percy looks, face flushed and hair ruffed up from your hands. You must look the same from how Percy’s staring right back at you. You shake your head yes and press back against him “eager girl, you need me that much, huh?” you smack his arm hard.

“says the one who practically dragged me out of the subway to do this”

he presses a quick kiss to your lips to shut you up.

“we’ll check out these markets and then walk home, hows that sound?”

“walk? Why would we walk” yous turn hand in hand back towards the colourful crowd of people, everything seems so much brighter now.

“because then I get to have you to myself for longer” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The next morning you woke to a knock at the door, Percy having dropped you home only hours before. You practically dragged your feet to the door and swung it open, the chill of the wooden floors making you want to get this interaction done and over with quickly. To your surprise no one stood on the other side, you looked down to see a plate full of blue chocolate chip cookies wrapped in cling film with a note on top, taking them inside quickly you pressed your back against the door and read the messy writing.

Meet me at the Bodega in 15 minutes, breakfast on me.

You can’t help but laugh at it, it’s definitely no Gilbert Blythe, but its Percy Jackson, which is so much better.

a/n: hellooooooo i have returned minions. don't really like this fic tbh but i am so ready for Christmas and needed to get something out, and I've fallen back into my pjo phase so expect more of this <3 i also have a Jake Sully fic in the works for my avatar ppl

#percy jackson #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #book percy jackson #x reader #fanfic

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thatdammchickennugget · 20 days

Text

Bookish Escapades

pairing - lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

warnings - fluff, kinda shy enzo I guess, bookworm!reader

a/n - I loved writing the first one and can't get this pairing out of my head, so I had to write a second part 💕

wordcount - 1.6k

part one - part two

The days leading up to Saturday seemed to drag on endlessly, each moment filled with anticipation and nervous energy. Enzo found himself counting down the hours until he could see you again, his thoughts consumed by the prospect of your upcoming date.

Finally, Saturday arrived, and Enzo could hardly contain his excitement. He spent the morning getting ready, carefully selecting his outfit and making sure he looked presentable. He wanted everything to be perfect for your date.

As the afternoon approached, Enzo made his way to Hogsmeade, his heart pounding with anticipation. He couldn't wait to see you, couldn't wait to spend the day exploring the village together.

When he finally caught sight of you waiting outside the Three Broomsticks, a smile spread across his face. You looked even more beautiful than he remembered, and Enzo felt a surge of happiness at the sight of you.

"Hey," he said softly as he approached, his heart racing in his chest.

"Hey," you replied, returning his smile with one of your own. "You look great, Enzo."

Enzo felt a flush of warmth spread across his cheeks at your compliment. "Thanks," he said, feeling suddenly shy under your gaze. "You look amazing too."

The two of you fell into step together, making your way through the bustling streets of Hogsmeade. A wave of contentment washed over him as he walked beside you, the warmth of your presence filling him with joy.

As you explored the village together, Enzo found himself drawn to your infectious enthusiasm. You seemed to find wonder and delight in everything around you, and he couldn't help but be swept up in your excitement.

The hours flew by unnoticed as you wandered from shop to shop, chatting and laughing as you went. Before Enzo knew it, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the village.

"Hey, do you want to head to Tomes and Scrolls now?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Enzo nodded eagerly, a smile spreading across his face. "I'd love to," he replied.

Together, you made your way to the bookstore, the warmth of your laughter filling the air as you went. Enzo couldn't remember the last time he had felt this happy, this at ease with someone else.

As Enzo and you entered Tomes and Scrolls, the cozy atmosphere of the bookstore enveloped you. The scent of old books mixed with the faint aroma of ink and parchment, creating a comforting ambiance that felt like home to you.

You immediately gravitated towards a shelf displaying a collection of classic wizarding novels. Enzo watched you with a fond smile as you ran your fingers over the spines, your eyes alight with excitement.

"I love this section," you said, turning to Enzo with a gleam in your eyes. "Have you read any of these?"

Enzo shook his head, feeling a little sheepish. "I haven't, actually," he admitted. "But they look interesting. Do you have any recommendations?"

You grinned, pulling out a book from the shelf and holding it up for him to see. "You have to read 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'," you exclaimed. "It's a collection of wizarding fairy tales, and they're absolutely enchanting."

Enzo took the book from you, flipping through the pages and skimming the titles of the tales. "It sounds intriguing," he mused. "I'll definitely give it a try."

As you continued to browse the shelves, Enzo followed along behind you, enjoying the way your eyes lit up with each new discovery. He found himself drawn to your passion for literature, captivated by the way you spoke about the books you loved, letting himself get lost in the thought that eventually, you might talk about him with the same fondness.

Eventually, you came across a shelf filled with books on magical creatures, and your excitement bubbled over. "Oh, these are amazing!” you exclaimed, reaching out to pull a book off the shelf. "Have you ever heard of a Niffler? They're the most adorable little creatures, but they have a tendency to steal shiny things."

Enzo chuckled at your enthusiasm, nodding along as you launched into an animated explanation of Nifflers and their mischievous antics. He found himself hanging on your every word, captivated by the way your eyes sparkled with excitement.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him as he watched you pull out book after book, entrusting him with your thoughts and opinions on each of them. He had never felt more at ease than he did in that moment, surrounded by books and laughter and the warmth of your presence.

As you placed the last book back on the shelf, Enzo noticed a determined look in your eyes, as if you were on a mission. He watched curiously as you scanned the shelves, searching for something specific.

"What are you looking for?" he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

You turned to him with a grin, excitement shining in your eyes. "Did you forget? We’re on a quest today," you declared. "We’re going to find the perfect book for you—one that you'll absolutely love."

"You don't have to do that," he protested, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep into his cheeks. “Today should be about you. Go pick some out for yourself, it’s on me.”

But you waved off his concerns with a laugh. "Nonsense," you said. "I want to do this. Besides, it'll be fun!"

With that, you launched into a series of questions, asking Enzo about his interests, his favorite genres, and the types of stories he enjoyed. Enzo found himself opening up to you, sharing bits and pieces of himself.

As you listened intently, a thoughtful expression crossed your face. "I think I have just the thing," you said finally, taking his hand with a grin on your face.

Leading Enzo through the aisles, you eventually arrived at a section filled with adventure fiction books. You scanned the shelves, your eyes darting back and forth as you searched for the perfect title.

"Here we go," you said, pulling out a book and holding it up for Enzo to see. "How about this one? It's got action, adventure, and a hint of romance. I think you'll really enjoy it. And the main character is a Quidditch player like you!"

Enzo took the book from you, examining the cover with interest. The artwork depicted a young man clad in Quidditch robes, sat on his broom as he was chased by a group of cloaked assailants against a backdrop of swirling clouds and jagged mountains.

"It looks great," Enzo said, a smile spreading across his face. "I'll give it a try."

With a sense of excitement, Enzo tucked the book under his arm, feeling a rush of gratitude towards you. He couldn't wait to dive into the story, eager to experience the adventure that awaited him within its pages. But maybe this sudden interest came from the hope that when he was done, he got to discuss it with you.

You smiled at Enzo's enthusiasm, feeling a surge of happiness at the thought of sharing the book with him. You grabbed another copy for yourself. "I'm glad you like it," you said, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having found the perfect book for him. "We can buddy read it together and share our thoughts as we go."

Enzo's eyes lit up at the suggestion, and he nodded eagerly. "That sounds great," he agreed. "I'd love that."

You shot him another dizzying smile, turning to make your way to the counter to pay when he stopped you, gently taking a hold of your arm.

"But wait, there's one more thing," he said, gesturing back towards the shelves. "I get to pick out a book for you too."

Your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly recovered, shoving down the flutter stirring up in your stomach. "Do your best," you declared, watching him turning to the shelves with determination.

You watched with amusement as Enzo browsed the shelves, his brow furrowed in concentration as he searched for the perfect book. After a few moments, he pulled out a book and held it up for you to see.

"How about this one?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It says that it’s a mystery novel set in the wizarding world. I think you'll enjoy it."

You took the book from him, examining the cover with interest. It showed a dark alleyway illuminated by the glow of a wand, hinting at the secrets and intrigue that lay within the pages.

"It looks intriguing," you said, a smile spreading across your face. "I can't wait to read it. Thank you, Enzo."

Enzo grinned back at you, feeling a rush of satisfaction at having found a book that he thought you would enjoy. "Anytime," he replied, feeling a sense of warmth at your gratitude.

He lead you up to the counter, pushing you away playfully when you reached for your wallet, refusing to let you pay. With the books in hand, you and Enzo made your way out of the bookstore, the warmth of the setting sun casting a golden glow over the village. As you walked side by side, a sense of excitement filled the air, anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead in the pages of the books you now held in your hands. And maybe, just maybe, in the adventures you would share together.

Enzo Taglist - @slytherinboysappreciation @urmomsgirlfriend1 @starsval @gillyweeds @sir-elian @harryslittlebitch @gayforyelena @whoreforfictionalmen18 @ravenclawprincess33 @sbrn0905 @helpimhopelesslyinlove @Yhiiil @themarauderswife7 @moonlightreader649 @ihatemyexs @chgrch @nat1221 @thestarlithideout @iamaslytherin0 @bath1lda @ohmaigwad @pinkposttragedy @allshitsangiggles @hoeforvinniehackerrr @mildly-delulu @h3artz4soph @sunasbbie @marsbars09 @vcosette @meepycheep @aglady13 @rinalouu @floswife @ariensversion @agent-tempest @s0urw00lf @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @pinkestfloyd @xlinxdax0704 @chulabeans @l0v3do11 @unstablereader @acourtoflostandwanderingstars @catiwinky @wolfstar-marvelsfan @captainstanksblog @istill-dream-ofyou @pinktreee @ceehance @lizhub @theadventuresofanartist @iamgayforyourmom1501 @feistyfox47 @nat1221 @i-think-you-are-gr8 @cas-planet @csmt_m @selyselyselyse @mrsriddles-blog @the-sylver-dragon @poppysrin @camille-1019 @laniirackssss @slvtfortheo @chosenoneslver @txzii @c0rnf1akessss @yourenogoodforme @opheliamalfoy236 @jeannie-beannie

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#enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #harry potter #slytherin boys #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #mari writes

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assortedseaglass · 7 months

Text

We Have This Hope - III

Osferth x Lady-in-Waiting

[Masterlist]

Story Tags: Fluff, Slow Burn, Mentions of Violence, Strong Language, Religious Guilt, Smut

Notes: Barely proofed. Will do later. Hope you enjoy my loves. H x

Aefry and Osferth’s mutual fascination continued over the week and, much to Aefry’s delight, she was provided with plenty of chances to see him, for wherever Aethelflaed went, Uhtred seemed to follow. What’s more, wherever Aethelflaed and Uhtred went, so too did her ladies and his band of warriors.

Following their fleeting meeting after mass, Aefry had glimpsed Osferth on her way back from the meadows just beyond the keep’s edge. She’d spent the day there with her book of psalms and her pages of drawings. Butterflies, plants, the skies above her and the ripple of the Itchen river. Wrapped in a shawl and sat beneath the old oak that guarded the grassland, Aefry was content to draw, read and daydream. Of her parents, of life beyond the keep, of warriors, of the boy with rough-shorn hair and worried eyes…

The day was drawing in when she made her way back to the warmth of the keep, the grey sky purpling as the sun descended below the trees. A brisk coolness settled on her cheeks, and she felt them turn red. These transitory days of autumn, like those of spring, brought a promise of something on the horizon that only the birds above them could see. In a life so still and, though she was grateful of her position, monotonous, Aefry found the quiet adventure in them thrilling. She thrilled too when, against the darkening sky, a white horse gleamed. Walking slowly, it’s head bobbing with each step, it looked like a spectre. Her cheeks burned all the hotter when she saw the man leading the horse to the stables.

Head downcast like that of his steed, he too seemed aglow in the twilight. Pale skin smooth as clay, his breath taking flight against the cold air. With his shoulders slumped, Aefry saw not the shy yet brave warrior monk she had become so intrigued by those last days, but a boy. Somehow, despite his quiet courage, he seemed defeated. Not once had he looked up to see his progress towards the stable, glancing only at his feet as they shuffled across the hard earth. He was missing the gentle sunset, had not stopped to look in the direction of the blackbird singing in the hedgerow, not noticed how she stood at the edge of the field, watching. She had to know what troubled him. Spurred on by that desire, any decorum left Aefry as she hurried forward.

At the rustle of leaves underfoot nearby, Osferth glanced up. Catching each other’s eyes, they both abruptly stood still. Osferth, hand at his sword, gawked at her. Aefry wobbled on the spot, having been caught rushing towards him. The white horse huffed and a great cloud of its breath rose into the sky.

The look that lingered between them was a second longer than proper, and Aefry became once more a young lady of propriety. Smiling gently, she moved slowly towards Osferth. He glanced quickly at the white horse, patting its thick neck as if finding something to do. Not even Uhtred or the King stirred this much nervousness in him.

“Forgive me, Sir-”

“Osferth,” he corrected. Aefry was relieved to see a small smile curve his lips.

“Osferth,” she whispered his name. To say it aloud, with no title, seemed indecent. “I am on my way back to my mistress, but when I saw you-” Aefry teetered on the precipice of this confession. Did it reveal too much? “Forgive me. I thought you looked sad.”

Osferth looked straight at her then, and the hand that rubbed the horse’s neck fell to his side. “Not sad, my Lady, just defeated.”

“Defeated?” She took a step closer to him, eager to know what caused the good man’s disappointment.

Osferth saw the worried crease of her brow and hurried to reassure her.

“Finan, he has been teaching me to spar. ‘Properly,’ he says.” It was as though the moon had risen early. All at once, Aefry saw the purple blooming under his eyes and the small grazes to his cheeks. When he held out his hands, dropping the reins of his horse to reveal the smattering of bruises across his knuckles, she gasped and took hold of them.

How intoxicating it was, this woman’s worry for him. Excitement, rapidly followed by shame, overcame Osferth and with all the effort he could muster he took his hands back from her. How wanton, to crave more of it.

“Wait, please,” Aefry said, turning in the direction she arrived from. Osferth watched her reach the edge of the meadow and crouch by a green mat of vegetation. In the low light, it was as if watching someone ascend from deep water. As she walked back to him, a handful of green clutched in her hand, she slowly came back into focus. Osferth shuffled from foot to foot and swallowed, looking quickly back to the horse. Blinking quickly, he saw the outline of her inside his eyelids. The ripple of her long hair, the sturdy footsteps towards him, her silhouette growing ever closer as her hips swayed side to side beneath the modest tunic she wore. He knew at once he would recount the image of her walking slowly towards him in the twilight. That night, in all likelihood. Osferth blushed and bowed his head. His boots were caked in mud, no doubt his tunic torn and much the same. He flattened the hair on his forehead and, shame yet again welling up inside him, hastily dropped his arm.

“I acknowledge my sin to you, and hide not my inequity-”

“Pardon?” Aefry had begun tearing the leaves in her hand as she stopped before Osferth.

“I-er, she is-she is restless,” Osferth gestured to the horse.

Even with his head bowed, his body stooping to appear small, he towered over her. Aefry came eye level with his leather cuirass, and the cross the rested there. A good man indeed. Funny, Aefry thought, that she found the holy men of the keep so pious they bordered on arrogance, boring to the point of inertia, or else more sinful than those they preached to. Power, she supposed, was the currency of man, and there was plenty for those who had taken holy orders under the command of the King. In Osferth, however, the presence of the cross at his chest calmed her, for she had seen the truth that he was a good man. Ruled not by power, but by his kindness and conscience. A true man of God. He was still shuffling uncomfortably at her side.

“Well then,” Aefry said with a gentle smile. ��We best get you both inside.” Her twinkling eyes met his and Osferth’s heart drummed unsteadily in his chest. She turned on her heel and made her way towards the stables. With the click of his teeth, Osferth and his steed followed eagerly in her wake.

The closer they drew to the dimly lit stable, the clearer the voices within it became. That is to say, one voice. The two men inside barely noticed as Aefry pushed open the door and slipped inside. Instead, it was the sound of horse hooves on the dampened ground that told the men they were no longer alone.

“Hurt your bollocks as well as the rest of your body?” Finan said to Osferth, indicating the horse he hadn’t ridden and laughing heartily. Sihtric smirked but continued brushing the dark horse he rode. Beside them, Aefry appeared from a small stall with a bowl of water.

“Fuck!” Finan jumped back at the small woman’s seemingly sudden arrival.

Blushing at the language, Aefry laughed. “Perhaps, Osferth, you should take sparring lessons from me. He may be the brute but I clearly have the cunning.” She playfully nudged Finan’s shoulder and found he didn’t budge. It made her giggle all the more and the three men stared at her. Sihtric in question, Osferth in amazement and Finan in mirthful admiration. Unaware, Aefry continued tearing the plant in her hand and adding it to the bowl.

“What have you there?” Sihtric’s voice was quiet.

“Yarrow,” Aefry offered him one of the flowering stems. “It helps to soothe swelling.” She watched as Sihtric turned the flower between his fingers. Despite his height, his fearsome, bicolour gaze and endless stoicism, there was gentleness to this man she was certain many overlooked. To all of them. Whereas it was plain in Osferth, behind the tough exteriors of Sihtric and Finan lay good-hearted souls. Sihtric with his childlike wonder, Finan with his easy humour. Uhtred too possessed a tenderness, if the way he looked at Aethelflaed was anything to judge.

Silence, but for the huffing and shuffling of the horses, settled about the stable. Aefry worked the yarrow and water into a paste, unaware of the silent exchange occurring above her head.

Osferth, still shy around his adoptive comrades and overcome with an emotion entirely foreign to him in the presence of Aefry, looked everywhere in the stable but her. Occasionally, as he glanced between the ceiling’s beams or the hay-strewn floor, he caught either Finan or Sihtric’s eyes. Sihtric, in his usual way, fixed him with a knowing stare somewhere between teasing and curiosity. Each time Osferth caught Finan’s eye, however, he entered into a silent battle with the Gael.

Finan indicated Aefry with his head, encouraging Osferth to step closer, or else would mouth instructions. “Talk to her!” “Say something!”. Once or twice, he even caught Finan making lewd gestures. When the Gael balled his fist before his crotch, Osferth’s eyes widened and he darted into one of the stalls. In doing so he brushed against Aefry’s shoulder, and the warmth he felt beneath her shawl sent a surge of lightning through him.

Flustered by the commotion of his own sudden movement, Osferth almost lost track of where he was and what he was doing. He span around. “I’m sorry, my Lady-” Osferth’s voice died. Aefry was watching him with a smile. No annoyance at his carelessness, worry no longer knitting her brow. Simply smiling at him.

Though bolder than he was, Osferth had noticed in his few meetings with the lady-in-waiting, of which this was the third, that, like him, Aefry was content with silence. He wished then that he had the courage for idle chatter. This lingering silence was torturous. The more she looked at him, and the more he looked at her, the more likely it seemed to him that heaven truly was real and not just a tool to frighten men into subjection.

“Let me see your hand again,” Behind Aefry, Finan walked past the stall and winked. Osferth didn’t move, and so Aefry came to him. Mistaking his infatuation for his earlier disappointment, she reached out and took his hand. Osferth almost whimpered. He bit the inside of his cheek to silence himself and released a ragged breath through his nose.

“I’m sorry, but the yarrow will help.”

Osferth let out a shaky laugh at her unknowing sweetness. “‘Tis fine.” When she began massaging the yarrow into his knuckles, Osferth held his breath, for never before could he remember being touched with such gentleness.

He barely remembered his mother. Sometimes, he thought of her running her hand over his head, but was unsure if this was a memory or merely something his mind had conjured up in the absence of her. When he entered the monastery, it was with the clap of his uncle Leofric’s hand at his back and a promise that he would always be near.

In their memory, Osferth touched the cross at his chest. Aefry’s eyes flickered there but she asked no questions, and began rolling a torn piece of cloth about his hand.

Behind the walls of the monastery, Osferth knew nothing but prayer and penance.

The blond hair his mother had allowed to grow long was roughly shorn, his clothes were replaced with itchy hand-me-down robes, and despite having lived so meagrely before, he would have given anything to sleep on the hay mattress of his uncle Leofric’s rather than the wooden board and blanket of his shared quarters.

That first room he shared with two other boys, Arric and Hablendan. He did not need to ask why they were sent to the monastery. The abbots looked at the three boys with an obvious disdain that they did not show the other novitiates. They were woken between matins and prime, then set to work preparing breakfast for the sleeping monastery. After a long day of work and prayer, Osferth and his companions would say compline, or vigil before Sunnundaeg, and await the abbot to permiss them sleep, long after everyone else had retired.

Bastards. Shame of father and family. That was why.

“A stain upon the good King’s virtue.”

“Nothing but a whore’s shame.”

“It would have been far better if you had never been born.”

When Hablendan succumbed to a fever aged eleven, the penitential psalms were hurried, his anointing near forgot, and the abbots slung him in a haphazard grave beyond the monastery wall. Only Osferth and Aerric kept vigil.

Arric left the monastery suddenly, and from time to time Osferth imagined he had run away with a tradesman or visiting abbess. That way he could believe a life beyond that harsh place existed. A monastery in a warmer climate perhaps, or a new life altogether.

“Osferth?”

So tender was her voice that Osferth thought he’d imagined it. The voice of Hablendan or Arric. Perhaps even his uncle or mother.

He blinked in the dim light, and felt a warmth about his hands. She had taken both in her own, and held them gently before her. Her eyes, a muddy mixture of browns, were looking up at him with concern.

“‘Tis fine,” he said again, although the lump in his throat betrayed any attempt at ease. Aefry nodded, held his hand a moment longer, then let go. Osferth twitched awkwardly before coughing and clearing the stall to make way for his horse. That he had been about to take her hand once more, Aefry did not know.

“Will your mistress not worry where you are?” Sihtric was heaving his horse’s saddle onto one of the stable beams.

“If Lord Uhtred is with her, I doubt it entirely,” Aefry said with a smile. “Her mother, however-” The men laughed. “I am away. Remove the dressing in the morning and the swelling should have gone down,” she addressed Osferth. “If not, seek me out and I will gather more.”

“He surely will,” Finan stepped forward with yet another gleeful glance in Osferth’s direction as he wrapped a cloak around his shoulders. “I’ll walk you back.”

Osferth’s heart sank. He had not known Finan long, but it was enough to see the long looks women gave him. Wit, kindness, honour, strength. How could he possibly compete? Aefry and Finan were backing out of the door when Sihtric nudged Osferth’s shoulder and nodded in their direction. Aefry was looking hopefully at him over Finan’s shoulder.

“Goodnight Osferth, goodnight Sir,” Sihtric nodded his head at Aefry. Osferth bowed a little.

“Come,” Sihtric said to him. “You have more to learn than swordsmanship.” And together they trudged towards the inn on the outskirts of town, Osferth hanging off his every word.

In the opposite direction, Finan and Aefry walked in comfortable silence. The sun had set fully and torches flickered at the welcoming gates of the keep. In a few moments, they would be sheltered in its warmth. Aefry’s stomach gave a rumble and she laughed.

“Thank you, Sir, for walking me back,” Finan smiled and Aefry continued. “Though, and I do not mean to offend, I suspect it was not for my safety.” Expecting to see annoyance in her eyes, Finan looked at her. To his pleasant surprise, he saw her eyes twinkle in the low light. A broad smile stretched across his bonny face. “I do believe Saeflaed will have returned from her father’s by now.”

“I would not have let you walk back alone, lady-”

“Aefry.” She corrected, holding a hand to her chest. He copied the movement.

“Finan.” Aefry nodded and Finan continued. “But a glimpse of her would not go amiss.”

Aefry’s smile widened. Finan had thought her a meek little thing at first, smaller than her companions, not so pretty as Saeflaed or outspoken as Adburh. But he saw now that he was wrong. Behind the round cheeks and rosy complexion, pleasing manner and quiet reserve, a brightness burned within her. Quick to help and to laugh just as he. The youngest of Aethelflaed’s ladies, he thought perhaps, despite Saeflaed’s beauty, that Aefry was his favourite.

“She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” Aefry said, her voice full of that longing awe one heard in a girl recalling a princess, or a little boy dreaming of the battlefield.

“I’ve never seen a fairer lass,”

“And here she is,” she indicated the keep gates, where a golden haired girl stood waiting. Aefry turned to Finan, a knowing glint in her eye. “Almost as if this meeting were planned.”

“Not a word to your mistress of Uhtred,” Finan held her arm gently.

Aefry held a finger to her lips as she slipped away, and Finan watched as she clasped Saeflaed’s hand before disappearing through the gate.

Over the next few days, the three men and three women followed their leaders like a gaggle of children.

Having told Aefry how much she liked the man, Saeflaed either clung to her arm or Finan’s, whispering hurried observations in the former’s ear, flirtations in the latter’s.

“His wit is as sharp as his sword!”

“There’s something about his eyes,”

“I watched him train the monk,” Aefry’s ears pricked. “His arms, Aefry!”

Poor Adburh was quite taken as ever by the silent Sihtric, but the discovery of his wife had left her quite bereft.

“Many a man takes a mistress, Adburh,” Saeflaed had said.

“I’ll not be a man’s whore,” Adburh snapped from beneath her bedsheets.

“Not even a man so beautiful?”

Adburh sniffled and Aefry silenced her friend with a quick glance.

When next they saw Uhtred and his men, all walking the halls and corridors of the keep as he spoke to Aethelflaed in hushed tones, Aefry was forced to abandon her position by the monk to remind Adburh that she was at court. At once, the red-headed girl’s shoulders straightened, the crease of her forehead vanished and her steps became lighter.

“He is a handsome man, ‘tis true,” Aefry whispered to Adburh. “But not the man for you, my friend.” Adburh’s face soured at once and she made to protest. Aefry didn’t allow it. “Aside from his marital status, he is far too quiet and serious. Imagine the household you would run together! You, fearsome and outspoken. He, fearsome and silent. That poor man would not stand a chance.” Adburh laughed sadly and linked her arm through Aefry’s. Together, they processed behind the others.

Uhtred and Aethelflaed were a way ahead now. Uhtred too, seemed equally bewitched by Aethelflaed as Adburh was with Sihtric, and Aefry was glad to see a man bestow her mistress some compassion. The image of a gentleman in her presence, Uhtred listened to Aethelflaed’s words as though she were bestowing upon him a prophecy. He walked half a step behind her at all times, and always, his gaze was directed toward her.

Finan and Saeflaed, still holding his arm, were a few paces behind them with Sihtric. Aefry giggled as Saeflaed’s golden curls bounced animatedly as she spoke to him, and Finan looked over his shoulder at the noise and winked.

Osferth saw him do so and glanced to where Aefry and Adburh walked. The moment he looked at her, Aefry’s steps faltered.

“Are you alright?” It was Adburh who sounded concerned now.

“Yes. Yes, fine,” Aefry resumed her steps and looked to Osferth. He had turned back to face the front. Let him look round again, please. The strange sensation that had made its home in Aefry’s chest ever since she met the monk stirred, and she gulped a few times to steady her breath.

“Are you sure?”

“Adburh,” Aefry lay a hand atop her friends. “Believe me when I say, I am fine.” Adburh eyed her suspiciously but they continued ahead.

Osferth walked alone between the groups, hands clasped behind his back. As people passed them in the corridors, going about their business, Aefry found a new appreciation for his height. She had seen few men so tall. He was taller than Finan, that was certain. Now, she saw he was taller than Uhtred and much the same height as Sihtric. She thought of the three warriors and their broad backs, and her mind wandered to what lay beneath Osferth’s robes. Whether he would become as muscled as them as he continued his training-

I’m sorry. Let him look at me, and I’ll spend Sunnandaeg in the chapel.

Aefry did not know precisely what it was that she longed to see, but when Osferth turned to look at her again, his mellow eyes brightening when he saw her already watching him, she felt a small part of her desire to be seen by him sated.

“Aefry, your cheeks are flushed. Are you certain-”

“Adburh!” Aefry dropped her friend’s arm in annoyance and took a few rushed steps forward before realising where she was; a step or so behind Osferth. When Adburh stomped past them, her temper flaring, Osferth startled and gazed back. Upon seeing Aefry so close, he startled again but smiled all the same.

“Her fires are burning rather hot today,” Aefry mumbled, giving Osferth a small curtsy.

“Is everything well?” said Osferth as he watched Adburh storm ahead.

“She had some bad news,” Aefry wouldn’t betray Adburh’s feelings, no matter her annoyance.

Osferth hummed and waited for Aefry to fall into step beside him. Unlike that which she had shared with Finan, Aefry could not say their silence was comfortable. On the contrary, both seemed strained to think of something to say and altogether uneasy.

“The yarrow worked-”

“How is your practice-”

Both spoke together, blushed and allowed the quiet to resume. After a moment, Aefry took Osferth’s hand. Perhaps it was an excuse just to touch him, but she brought his knuckles to the light of a passing window and examined his bruises. The yarrow had worked indeed, for she could make out the bone and blue veins of his hands. His hands. How small hers suddenly felt underneath his. When she looked up at him, she saw he was still staring down at their entwined hands.

“Do you need anything more of me?” she whispered.

Osferth’s eyes flickered to hers. “Lady, I-”

“Come on, Osferth!”

Finan’s voice boomed down the corridor and Aefry stepped quickly away from Osferth. Onward they walked.

“That is much like how he speaks to me when teaching,” Osferth said lowly and Aefry laughed. “But he is kind do it, and a good man.”

“That he is.”

Osferth watched her from the corner of his eye. She smiled as she looked in Finan’s direction and he tried to quell his jealousy. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” he whispered.

Ahead, Uhtred and Aethelflaed had stopped outside a large cabinet of rooms at the fore of the keep, and Aefry, distracted on their journey there, noticed at once that it was the study of the King. She quickened her steps, leaving Osferth’s side, to stand behind her mistress. It would not do for Lady Aelswith to see her at the side of one of Uhtred’s men and not her daughter.

No sooner had she, Saeflaed and Adburh settled behind Aethelflaed did the door to the cabinet open. Father Beocca stepped out and grasped Uhtred’s hand. A moment after, the King entered the corridor and all in his presence bowed their heads. Aethelflaed kissed his cheek.

“You are ready?” He said to his daughter and Uhtred, to which they nodded and entered his private chambers with Beocca. As Aefry bowed once more, she noticed the King’s intelligent eyes carry over Finan and Sihtric, before flicking to the man stood still in the corridor.

Subtly, so imperceptibly, Aefry saw Alfred falter. From her reverent position, she looked sideways through the veil of her hair.

Osferth was looking pointedly at the ground, his shoulders a little stooped, his head a little bowed.

When the King turned away, Osferth looked up and saw that Aefry was watching him again. With a sad smile and nod of his head, he retraced his steps, away from his fellows, and out of sight. A haunting sadness had returned to his eyes, and Aefry thought of little else all evening.

Early one morning under the guise of prayer, Aethelflaed brought her ladies-in-waiting to the town chapel so she may share some secret with Uhtred before he and his men left for the north.

Finan and Sihtric were stood at the door, happily talking when they arrived. They bowed to Aethelflaed as she passed, sharing a knowing look, and greeted the ladies. Saeflaed placed herself by Finan and leant gaily against the stone wall so that her hip jutted just so. Adburh, too, stood scandalously close to Sihtric. He said nothing. Aefry did not worry about Osferth’s own whereabouts, for she knew he would be inside.

Sure enough, when she pushed open the chapel’s great doors, daylight streaked into the chamber and set him aglow. Sat on a simple wooden bench at the back of the chapel, his head was bent in prayer. Like a moth to a flame, she drifted towards him, sitting carefully beside him as he prayed.

The creaking of the wood gave her away, and Osferth opened one eye. When he saw her sat beside him, he smiled and relaxed in his seat. Together, the monk and the young lady sat in contended silence at the back of the chapel. After a while he looked at her fully and saw the happiness on her face.

“What has you smiling, my Lady?” Osferth whispered in her ear as they sat side by side. Aefry looked up at him. His hands were clasped in his lap, his head bowed slightly to hear her answer. Wherever he went, he always looked in prayer, and she wondered if it was the same on the battlefield. If he fought with as much grace as he did everything else.

“Those two,” she indicated Uhtred and Aethelflaed with her eyes. “It is good to see her smile again.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched her face glow with tenderness. It seemed her permanent state. On occasion, he had seen her about the keep with Aethelflaed and her other companions. Where Adburh and Saeflaed seemed suited to keeping the princess jovial, the lady beside him must have been picked as a companion for her quiet sincerity. When Aethelflaed fell into clouds of despair, it was Aefry she went to to lift her spirits.

When Osferth stumbled upon Aefry in the town, or sat in the meadow beyond the keep, she moved with serenity, like river buttercup in a stream. It struck him that she was prayer incarnate; contemplative, curious, calm.

When tending to the horses, he watched her in the meadow. She gathered flowers, read beneath the oak tree, or when not alone, talked spiritedly with her companions. Just as fascinated as she was with the monk, he too was with the lady-in-waiting.

“Though she doesn’t show it, not to Lord Uhtred, she is sad.” The monk titled his head towards her as she spoke. “You are away tomorrow, are you not?”

He nodded, eyes scanning hers. Would she be sad when he left? As Aethelflaed was for Uhtred?

“Take care, Just Osferth,” she smiled. His mouth twitched at the corners, and she knew he wanted to smile. “What?”

“My lady, do you think perhaps you could simply call me Osferth? The others have given me their own name, I should like to hear mine just plainly.”

The lady’s eyes lit with mirth. “What do the others call you?”

He sighed and looked at the cross atop the alter, as if pleading for help. “‘Baby monk.’” He whispered it in her ear like he was at confession, and she would have shuddered were it not for the ridiculousness of the name. She sniggered and the monk pinched his nose.

“Are you a monk anymore?” She had turned to him slightly, though she still glanced at her mistress every now and again. “Now that you are in Uhtred’s company?”

He thought a moment and watched his hands. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”

She took his hand in hers and faced him directly.

“You are Osferth.”

“That I am.” There it was again. Pride. Looking at her pretty face, open with kindness and judging of nothing as she watched him, Osferth felt that whatever he had been, or would be, was fine because she saw him. She.

“What do you think life would have held for you? Had you the choice?” Aefry knew the question was intimate, and should he rebuke her, she would understand. To her happiness, he did not.

“I do not think it matters, lady.” Visions of himself as a prince, or an ealdorman with wife and child flashed before his eyes. “My lot was chosen long before I was born.” Aefry knew he was thinking of his father’s actions but said nothing, only let him continue. “With another mother, another father, in a different realm perhaps my life would have been different, but it does not do to dwell. I am thankful for what I have been given.”

He watched her side, for she had turned to face Uhtred and Aethelflaed solemnly. Her lips parted delicately, plainly thinking over what he had said. A few strands of hair had fallen loose from the braid knotted at her nape, revealing the pulse point on the elegant column of her neck. Osferth was struck with the desire to run his finger along it and the britches beneath his tunic tightened. He shifted on the hard pew. Damn. Faintly, as though listening through water, he heard her say something similar to “we should leave them be.” He looked up to see Uhtred and Aethelflaed departing through the door behind the chancel.

“Will you pray with me?”

Her hand was still in his and she squeezed it before clasping her own in prayer. “Of course.”

Aefry knelt before him and he swallowed, shifting his hands beneath his tunic before kneeling beside her. Osferth wasn’t sure how long they prayed. Or rather, how long she prayed and he tried to. Her devoted mutterings and deeps sighs of breath were beautifully distracting, so he settled on watching her pray instead.

She leant her head on her hands, as though this would open a direct channel to help her commune with the divine. She glanced up on occasion, to gaze at the altar, before casting her eyes down. When she hastily wiped a tear from her cheek between devotions, he found he could take it no more and moved towards the offertory shrine next to the tabernacle. He hadn’t seen someone so moved by prayer since the monastery, and even then he believed the abbot did it to scare the oblates into servitude.

He took a candle and, placing it next to its fellows, lit it with a taper. Closing his eyes with the flame in hand, a moment’s solace finally found him, and he prayed for that which he always could. When he opened them, she was there beside him, placing her own candle upon the shrine having silently finished her prayers. As if in slow motion, he watched as she covered his hand with hers and moved the taper he still held to the wick. The candle flickered into life, and she let go.

“Who did you light your candle for?” she whispered, watching the flames dance together.

“My mother.”

“I lit mine for you. I want to see you safely back in Wintancaester.” Sadness befell Aefry’s eyes and Osferth said the only thing he could think that would ease her unhappiness.

“I shall try, my lady.”

She nodded. “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”

His lips parted with barely supressed awe. “Psalm ninety-one.”

Aefry nodded again. “The psalms are my favourites.”

“My lips praise you, because your faithful love is better than life itself.” Osferth whispered, his eyes intent on hers.

“Psalm sixty-three.”

“Yes,” Each time he was near her, his voice floundered. It seemed it was not just he who struggled. The light of the chapel cast Osferth in a soft glow and his eyes, pierced by the sun, looked aflame. Aefry watched as his tongue ran slowly over his bottom lip and, mindful of their place in God’s house, pressed the back of her hand to his so as to feel close to him.

“I must away, my lady.” His words were abrupt, their sudden intimacy overwhelming.

“Yes, you must,”

Osferth swallowed, and with some urgency said, “But I will see you soon.” Her beautiful face became doleful as she looked at the bidding candles and he stepped closer to her. Her eyes, brimming with tears, took in his face and as he made to brush them away, she stood on her toes to place a chaste kiss against his cheek.

Frozen before the shrine, Osferth listened as her steps carried her from the chapel, away from Adburh and Saeflaed, from Finan and Sihtric, and from him.

In the meadow beyond the town, beneath the oak tree, Aefry let her tears fall.

“The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night,” she said aloud to the grasses and the birds. Please, she begged, please let him come back.

Notes: Matins, prime, compline and vigil are part of the liturgical hours in the catholic faith, and are prayers that are said throughout the day. Typically for a monk, there would be matines, prime, lauds, none, sext, vespers and compline. Vigil came before holy days and some even took nocturnes which is around 1am. I used to live with a monk (true!) and sometimes I would do lauds with him. Fifteen minutes of quiet is a lovely way to start the day!

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#ewan mitchell #osferth #osferth x oc #osferth x reader #the last kingdom #tlk #aethelflaed #uhtred #finan #sihtric #alfred the great #we have this hope #ewan mitchell x reader

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achaoticeternal · 1 year

Text

civility.

AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM!READER

summary: since your shared childhood, aemond and you have always shared a close bond. word count: 2.4k warnings: canon typical language and violence. bullying. a/n: this is a fem!reader who is a noble lady and ward of the Queen. reader is Otto’s niece/ Alicent’s cousin so you could also imagine this with a Hightower!Reader. this was inspired from the song seven by taylor swift. i love both soft and mean aemond, you can try and pry him from my hands

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The library was strangely silent today. It was always silent, apart from the rustling of pages and the occasional whisper. Yet, today it was a weird difference.

Helaena sat to your right, reading over a field journal she had found about arachnids. Though you despised seeing the pictures of the spiders and scorpions, you knew they delighted the young princess. Currently, nothing in the gardens or the maester’s study had intrigued her as much as the eight-legged fiends did.

In front of you was a book that briefly talked over the history of the Reach, most fondly writing about Oldtown, your home. With Lord Otto being your uncle, his daughter, the Dowager Queen, now took you in as her ward so that you would be raised in proper society. It had been a high honor to live and be educated amongst the royal family.

Typically, you were an avid reader, being able to finish such a short novel in less than an hour. But the lack of a certain prince’s presence left you feeling uneasy…

However, the door to the library opened to reveal Aemond with his mother at his side. Both of them looked upset, yet it was Aemond who was crying. Clearly, something had set him off from his usually soft demeanor.

“Aemond!” You announced and moved quickly to talk with him.

As you approached him and the Queen, you curtsied before comforting your friend, “What has upset you, my prince?”

Aemond scrunched his nose, the light freckles of his face moving too, “My brother… my nephews… I hate them.”

“Aemond, we do not say such things,” the Queen corrected her son, before dismissing herself to attend to Helaena.

Your eyes followed her until you were convinced that she could no longer hear the pair of you whisper to each other, “What happened? What did they do to you?”

Aemond shook his head at first, not wanting to relive the moment. But he did want to tell you because you always knew how to comfort him. You were a far better friend than any of his family or the sons of the nobles that visited the capital.

“They said that the dragon masters had found an unclaimed dragon. A dragon that I could bond with and fulfill my destiny to be a dragon rider,” Aemond’s lip shook as he spoke, “But they gave me a pig! A pig with wings!”

As soon as you noticed the crack in his voice, you threw your arms around him, pulling the prince into a tight hug. You did not say anything to him… simply allowing him to forget about the incident.

“Their words do not matter, because they are only words. You are the finest among them,” You softly attempted to console your friend, “You have studied and trained much more than any of them. One day, you shall have a dragon, a great dragon.”

“What if I don’t? What if I never become a dragon rider?”

His vulnerability made your chest ache for him. You wished that others could see Aemond as you saw him. Gently, you rested your hands against his forearms, “You are a prince… And even if they are foolish enough to ignore that. My loyalty and friendship are vowed only to you — you are my prince…”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

With the matter of Driftmark now settled, the entirety of the Targaryen family was gathered in a private dining room for a feast. It had been many years since everyone was together for a meal, so you understood why the King had wished for such. It left you to now sit between your uncle, the Hand, and your prince, Aemond.

Currently, everyone was laughing or paying tribute to other members of the family. It was heartwarming to see the royal family coming together and actually enjoying themselves.

Yet, Aemond sat by your side, clutching his goblet. He only laughed at some of the snide comments that Aegon made, occasionally acknowledging the jokes from his uncle Daemon as well. You reached out a hand to playfully snatch the pitcher of wine that sat in front of his plate.

“Refilling your chalice again, my lady?” Aemond questioned you.

“It has been quite the day, my prince,” You giggled to yourself, “Indulging myself for a night might do me some good.”

As you lifted the chalice to your lips, your eyes made contact with his violet one. With a smirk, you began to sip the red liquid while maintaining his gaze. It was only when you lowered the cup that Aemond’s gaze flickered to your lips, now stained red from the wine.

“Do you ever wish to indulge yourself, my prince?”

Both you and Aemond knew there was a deeper meaning to your words. However, Jace suddenly stood to his full height while Aegon continued his torment. At this action, Aemond also quickly stood, eyeing Jace as if he wanted the young prince to act out of fashion.

Instead, Jace made a toast to his uncles — a toast to their shared youth. Then Jace lead Helaena to dance, which was far more innocent than his mocking tribute.

You immediately noticed the shift in Aemond’s disposition from the tribute. His jaw clenched, defining his side profile; while his knuckles began to turn white from his grip on his napkin. Gently, you rested your hand atop his, soothing the skin with your thumb.

“Ignore him,” You attempted to console him, “They only mean to anger you. Do not allow them the pleasure of seeing you so upset…”

A chuckle sounded from across the table. It came from Lucerys, as the servants placed a pig at your end from the table. Aemond’s eye flickered from his nephew to the pig and finally to the chalice.

Aemond slammed his fist on the table as he stood, raising his chalice, “Final tribute.”

You glanced up at him, silently begging that he control his anger. He looked down at you, but looked back to Aegon with a smirk, “To the health of my nephews… Jace… Luke… Joffrey…”

Tension quickly began to fill the room, drowning everyone under its waves. A part of you prayed to the Seven that Aemond would just bite his tongue this once. That he would sit down and have a laugh with you or ask to be excused for the evening.

But Aemond continued on with his tribute, “Each of them handsome, wise… strong”

The devilish smirk played at his lips, and while you usually enjoyed seeing Aemond like this, you wished for such torment to end.

“Come, let us drain our cups to these three strong boys—”

“I dare you to say that again,” Jace spoke heatedly from his spot next to Helaena. Both Alicent and Rhaenyra attempted to cut in and silence their children, only for the boys to speak over them.

“Why?” Aemond crossed away from his seat, standing rather proudly, “Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?”

Before another word could be said, Jace viciously approached his uncle and delivered a right hook to his jaw. Only Aemond’s head turned, and not a drop of wine spilled from his goblet, still in hand. The sudden fight caused a great commotion to come from yourself and others.

The next thing you saw was Aegon pinning Luke to the table, and Aemond easily shoving Jace to the floor. The Queen yelped at her sons to quit, as guards seized the younger boys.

“Aemond!” You spoke crossly, grabbing his arm.

The Queen moved to his opposite side, glaring up at her son, “Why would you say such a thing before these people?”

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother,” His gaze looked from his mother to you, as he tugged his arm out of your grip, “Though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.”

Daemon quickly stepped in between his nephews and his stepsons, glaring between both groups. As Rhaenyra bid her sons and their betrothed to go back to their chambers, Daemon turned to meet Aemond’s glare. A sigh escaped Daemon as everyone else in the room awaited for something to occur.

It surprised you, how similar Aemond was to his uncle. You wondered to yourself if the Rogue Prince was once as strikingly handsome as Aemond was. Of course, you had heard the stories, but it was hard to imagine anyone being more handsome than your friend and prince.

“To your rooms,” Alicent looked between all of her children and you, “Now!”

A moment later, Aemond looked to the door and began making his exit. Swiftly, you curtsied to the remaining members of the royal family before fleeing after the prince. It would be better to calm him now than allow his rampage to continue.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“What desire filled you to act like such a cunt?”

“I simply complimented my nephews-”

“You know what you said, what you implied… do you wish for your father to have your?” Your brows furrowed as he crossed away from you, “or for your uncle to take your head like he did Vaemond’s? You can not be so childish!”

Aemond moved away from you, his anger wishing to get the best of him. Even if his nephews had upset him so, you could not justify such words and actions after the King’s departure from dinner this evening. You stood diligently, waiting for an apology or even a plain response.

“Childish?” Aemond straightened his posture as he spoke, “Childish?”

Finally, the blonde-haired prince spun around to face you. His jaw clenched, just like his fist. You could see all the rage, the desire to scream at you, his eye glaring at you while reflecting every emotion that whirled inside him.

“Childish, that is your claim? Hmm?” Aemond sneered, “Childish is what I would call Aegon as he continues his drunken vices or the lords of the court who think silly words and flowers to tempt you into a marriage. No, childish is something I would call my bastard nephew, Lucerys, while he laughs at a pig being placed in front of me at supper tonight!”

Just as a tear escaped from his violet eye, Aemond turned away from you. You could tell from the tension in his neck that he despised sharing such thoughts with you.

“I… I understand what—”

“No, you don’t understand!” He shoved your hand off his arm, “You are a fine lady of the courts, I am a Targaryen Prince! A prince that no one in this damn family seems to respect.”

With a sigh, you began to approach him again… You were much softer and gentler with your tone and movements. At first, you placed a hand at the top of his back, rubbing simple circles to comfort him. Once the tension left his back, you tucked your arms around his waist, hugging yourself close to his frame.

“I respect you, my prince.”

Immediately, your words began to calm him, his breath evened out into fuller breaths. Then, you took your cue to continue to calm his spirit. “You are a Targaryen Prince, the most accomplished of them all. You ride the largest dragon. You have trained both mentally and physically to be the best of them. And if they don’t care about that,” You removed yourself from him and moved to stand before him. You gently intertwined your fingers as you gazed up at him loving you, “I care about it. You have my respect, you are my prince…”

Aemond’s hands squeezed tighter at your words. Though his demeanor had not shifted, you could tell that your words had affected him. He thought for a moment more, nodding as if agreeing with him.

“You have always been loyal to me,” His brow raised, “Why?”

You bit your lip in contemplation. There were many ways to answer the prince’s question. With a sigh, you began to answer him, “Since we were children, I could see your potential. Your very being exudes a type of power that Aegon nor your nephews will ever have. You are the best of them, and I have always seen that. You deserve the world and more in my eyes.”

Aemond was silent, and only a hum of contemplation showed that he had even acknowledged what you had said. Then he dropped your hands, his brow furrowing. You took this as a sign of dismissal. It was understandable that he would like to spend the rest of the evening alone.

Your steps were light as you made your way to the door. The tension from earlier has dissipated and allowed the natural sway of your gait to return. As you approached the exit to the chambers, you were stopped.

“My lady?”

At his request, you turned to face the man, “Yes, my prince?”

“Exactly how long have you known me?”

“Since we were… seven? Whenever Queen Alicent requested that I serve as her ward.”

“And how long have you been in love with me?”

Suddenly, all breath abandoned your body. Your jaw dropped in shock at his statement and a wave of nerve brushed over you. All words and movement were lost upon you, so you stayed frozen in time.

Aemond, however, seemed quite amused at your shock. His typical cool and devilish manner had returned to him as he began to stalk toward you. A smirk played at his lips as he continued his teasing, “I apologize, did you not hear me well enough?”

“Huh…” You pressed your back to the door, “I-I’m afraid I don’t understand the sentiment behind your question…”

“It is a rather simple question though,” Aemond rebutted, “How long have you been in love with me?”

A few quick strides later, Aemond stood before you, leaving no escape from his gaze. He would get an answer, one way or another, “My lady, did you think your affections would go unnoticed by me? By my mother?”

“I… I…” A blush crept over your face. How you wished to cower away and into your private chambers, wishing the conversation had never made the shocking turn.

“Speechless, are we?” Aemond smirked, dipping his head to your height, “I hope you are not so speechless when I ask your Lord Father to take you as my wife.”

At his words, your heartbeat increased once more, confusion evident on your face, “Wife?”

“Ah, she speaks…” Aemond tutted, raising a hand to cup your jaw as he admired your features, “Yes… my wife… I assume that you would enjoy such. Of course, you can still continue to prattle and dote on me as you do now.”

A giggle slipped past you at his teasing words. Finally, the realization of it settled in, “Is that eagerness, my prince? If it was, I would think you quite enjoy, if not even desire my affections.”

“That I do,” He chuckled to himself as his nose brushed against yours, “I desire you, the object of all my affections.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed and would like to see more aemond or hotd content.

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cnnmairoll · 9 months

Text

A Book Club For Two

Pairing : Dan Heng x Reader Genre : Fluff, Domestic Summary : In the intimate haven of Dan Heng's room, you both share a stack of books on his bed, the warmth of a cozy blanket draping over your legs as you enjoy each other's presence. a/n : this fic is part of The Domestic Things They Do With You so feel free to check out what other character will be there! Hopefully I could write one daily

"Good evening," Dan Heng greeted once he opened the door to his room, his voice a melodic resonance that seemed to fill the room.

"Hey," you responded, your own lips curving into a welcoming smile. "I've got tea ready. It's your favorite blend."

Dan Heng's eyes flickered with appreciation as he settled across from you, the two of you creating a serene tableau amidst the room's soft lighting. Nestled between you lay a book with gilded pages, its cover an alluring tapestry of words and colors.

"Our first book for our mini book club," you remarked, gently picking up the book and passing it to him. "What do you think?"

Dan Heng accepted the book, his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment. He glanced at the cover before meeting your gaze once more. "A suitable choice," he acknowledged, his voice carrying an air of intrigue.

You opened the book, the rustle of pages becoming a harmonious backdrop as you began to read. Night after night, the two of you embarked on a literary journey, the worlds within the book intertwining with your own. The characters became your companions, and their stories wove themselves into your conversations.

You never thought you'd see the day when Dan Heng would willingly engage in something as warm and domestic as a book club. But there you were, Nestled together in the warmth of his room, a pile of books lay between you on his comfortable bed, and a soft, cozy blanket covered both of your legs.

Dan Heng's tall figure was a comforting presence beside you, his striking blue eyes focused on the pages of the book in his hands. His fingers turned the pages with care, revealing the hidden world of the story one chapter at a time. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, appreciating the way his fair skin caught the soft glow of the reading lamp.

"Have you gotten to the part where the protagonist makes that important decision yet?" you asked, your voice hushed as not to break the spell woven by the words on the pages.

Dan Heng glanced up at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Not yet," he replied, his voice as velvety as the night sky outside the window. "But I have a feeling it's coming soon."

The two of you had picked a fantasy novel for your book club, a tale of magic and destiny that seemed to parallel your own journey on the Astral Express. As the nights went on, you found yourself drawn deeper into the story and closer to Dan Heng.

With each passing evening, your discussions grew more animated. You'd share your theories about the characters' motivations, and Dan Heng would offer his own insightful observations. His fingers would occasionally brush against yours as you both reached for the teapot on the low table between you, sending a thrill of warmth through your veins.

As you were engrossed in a particularly suspenseful chapter, you felt Dan Heng's arm rest lightly against your shoulder. His presence was a comforting weight, and you leaned into the contact without a second thought. It was as if a silent understanding had blossomed between you, a connection that transcended words.

"Did you see that twist coming?" Dan Heng's voice rumbled softly, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You shook your head, a delighted smile gracing your lips. "No, I was completely caught off guard!"

He chuckled, a low and melodic sound that made your heart skip a beat. "I had a feeling you'd react that way."

As the book reached its climax, the two of you found yourselves drawn even closer. Your knees brushed against each other, and the subtle touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You dared to steal a glance at Dan Heng, finding his gaze already fixed on you, his eyes soft and full of something you couldn't quite put into words.

And then, as the final chapter approached, Dan Heng's fingers found their way to yours. His touch was tentative at first, a gentle intertwining of your fingers that sent shivers down your spine. You looked up at him, your heart racing, and found that his gaze was locked onto your joined hands, a hint of a blush dusting his cheeks.

The last page turned, and the two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the story settling over you. But then, Dan Heng looked at you, his eyes brimming with emotion. "Thank you for sharing this with me," he said softly.

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "Thank you for being a part of this with me."

And just like that, the book club for two had come to an end, but the bond you had formed with Dan Heng continued to grow stronger. As the nights went on, you found yourselves seeking out each other's company, not just for the books, but for the shared moments of warmth and connection that had blossomed between you.

In the quiet corners of the room, you and Dan Heng continued to write your own story, one that was filled with whispered conversations, stolen glances, and touches that spoke volumes. And though Dan Heng's exterior remained cold and reserved to the rest of the world, you knew the truth—he was only soft for you, a warmth that he shared in the quiet intimacy of your shared space.

#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ mai writes #honkai star rail #honkai fluff #hsr #hsr x reader #dan heng #star rail #dan heng x reader #hsr dan heng #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you

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nintendo-b1tch · 5 months

Note

hiya! can i request reactions to a reader/ player humming songs- which they probably shouldn't know [at least in the eyes on the chain, As well as other themes,] like- the ballad of the goddess, or epona's theme. maybe zelda's lullaby. song of storms etc.

I’m making this a series with each person! This one is with Legend!

Hope this is good, I’m not very confident about anything I write!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As you began setting up the stage, you couldn't help but notice a group of men nearby. A small smile crept onto your lips, knowing that you would have an audience to share your musical gifts with. Delicately rummaging through your satchel, you retrieved a worn and weathered notebook—a treasure chest of your innermost thoughts and inspirations.

Carefully opening the notebook, your eyes were greeted by a sea of meticulously crafted words and hauntingly beautiful melodies. This notebook held the key to your dreams, capturing every detail and emotion that flickered through your mind. Each song was carefully composed, with melodies that echoed the very essence of your dreams. It was a tangible representation of your imagination and creativity—a cherished possession that held the power to transport you and your band to magical realms.

Last night had been no exception. In the solace of sleep, you had experienced a dream so vivid and extraordinary that it had become the foundation for the song you planned to share with your audience. The dream had woven a tapestry of vibrant colours, intricate plotlines, and ethereal harmonies, all of which you had painstakingly transcribed into the pages of your cherished notebook.

As you sat down, the warm sunlight gently caressed your face, illuminating the words that spilled forth from your pen. With each stroke of the ink, you imbued the song with a piece of your soul, allowing the audience to experience the very essence of your dreams and aspirations. The notebook served as both a conduit and a sanctuary, capturing the delicate balance between reality and imagination that fueled your musical genius.

In this moment, surrounded by the sights and sounds of preparation, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude and purpose. The group of men became silent, captivated by the sight of you pouring your heart onto paper.

As you stood amidst the bustling stable, your observant eyes keenly captured the men engrossed in their own individual tasks. Amidst this sea of faces, your gaze effortlessly homed in on a certain man, his presence seemingly emanating a captivating aura. It was in that moment of connection that your eyes ventured towards his unique attribute—a whimsical pink streak, playfully intermingling with his tousled blond locks. A sense of intrigue filled your being, prompting an involuntary smile to grace your lips, which he quickly averted in response.

A tinge of disappointment subtly crept upon you as he shifted his attention elsewhere. However, just as reality began to quell the excitement within you, your dearest friend, Violynne, materialized, her familiar touch landing on your shoulders. A melodic laughter escaped her lips as she delighted in your startled reaction.

" Hello there, dear dreamer! Our setup is now complete, and we eagerly invite you to partake, " she announced, bearing a radiant smile that transported you back to those cherished childhood memories. This endearing nickname had been affectionately bestowed upon you by your mother, recognizing your innate tendency to wander in the realm of dreams. Through your enchanting melodies, which were born from the depths of your slumbering mind, you effortlessly weaved tales that spoke to the hearts of all who listened.

You stepped onto the stage with a smile as you adjusted the hair pin that held your bangs back. The hair pin was a blooming flower, and adjusting your hair pin was a nervous habit. You closed your eyes to listen to the melody your band mates began to play. You slowly swayed to the melody before you began to sing happily.

" Sleepers wake, dreams will fade...

Although we cling fast...

Was it real, what we saw?

I believe... "

Your eyes locked onto the group of men, and you noticed the one with a pink streak in his messy blond hair was extremely tense as you continued to sing.

" Lost in dreams, we sleep on…

Tossing and turning…

Stay with me, by my side

Never leave... "

As you poured your heart into the song you sang, it was evident that this particular melody held a special significance for you. Its origins traced back to the ephemeral realm of dreams, where your subconscious vividly painted a tale of a heroic figure who unwittingly stumbled upon an enigmatic island. This island, as the mysterious whispers revealed, was not a tangible reality but a mere fabrication conjured by an omnipotent deity.

As the narrative of your dream unfolded, you couldn't help but empathize with the protagonist's emotional journey. The pain that he had endured upon discovering that the object of his affection, the girl he had fallen deeply in love with, was naught but a figment of an otherworldly imagination cut deep into your soul. The sheer disappointment and heartache that he must have experienced mirrored your own heartfelt emotions as you belted out the lyrics, punctuating the tender chords strummed by your bandmates.

Together, your collaborative efforts infused every note with an intense and bittersweet melancholy, painting a vivid sonic landscape that encapsulated the essence of the hero's tumultuous odyssey. You moved in perfect synchrony with the music, swaying and letting the rhythm guide your emotions as you embodied the pain and longing that permeated the hero's every breath.

Within this extended rendition of the song, you found solace in the knowledge that your heartfelt performance resonated with the universal human experience of confronting illusions and facing the inevitable moments of disillusionment. The immersive power of music allowed you to capture the essence of the hero's struggle, giving voice to the unspoken depths of his sorrow and regret. With every carefully crafted lyric and expertly executed musical phrase, you sculpted an auditory masterpiece that touched the hearts of all who listened, inviting them to dwell in the nuanced tapestry of emotions that you wove into the very fabric of your performance.

" What if the worst comes?

If someday this sweet reverie ends

We too, our memories, for real

Fade us by... "

Your eyes were intensely fixated on the group of men who seemed to be in a state of desperate flurry; their efforts to comfort the distraught individual with the unmistakable pink streak in his hair were apparent. It was evident from the violent tremors that ran through his body that he was grappling with an overwhelming sense of distress.

Intriguingly, you found yourself making eye contact with one of the men in the group. His eyes spoke volumes, silently pleading for assistance, as it became increasingly clear that their efforts were falling short and they were unable to assuage the inner turmoil of their comrade.

Without a moment's hesitation, you swiftly descended from the stage, propelled by a potent mix of concern and empathy. Though you were unaware of the exact cause of their distress, a resolute determination to lend a helping hand coursed through your veins, urging you forward.

" Excuse me, could I try? " you uttered softly, gently tapping the shoulder of one of the men who had been valiantly striving to bring solace to the troubled hero. Sensing the urgency in your voice, he stepped back, granting you an opportunity to offer your aid. You instinctively pulled the distressed individual into your embrace, guiding his head to rest against the comforting warmth of your chest.

As the haunting melody you had just performed on stage lingered in the air, you slowly resumed singing, the melodic strains weaving their way around the tense atmosphere. With every dulcet note resonating through the space, a sense of tranquility descended, wrapping its soothing tendrils around the agitated man. A tender smile graced your lips, highlighting the genuine affection that emanated from deep within your soul.

Your fingers, seemingly guided by an invisible force, caressed his dishevelled blond locks, gently untangling them with each tender stroke. The delicate touch of your fingertips served as a calming balm, soothing the frayed edges of his distressed spirit.

As you reassured him, " You're okay, you're okay now, alright? " In a gentle and soothing tone, a warm smile slowly formed on your face. Looking into his eyes, you noticed a faint blush appearing on his cheeks, indicating that your comforting words and touch were having an effect on him. He leaned towards your touch, seeking solace and support in your presence, and it melted your heart to witness his vulnerability.

However, it was the heartbreaking mumble that escaped his lips next that truly struck a chord within you.

" Don't leave me too... " The desperation laced in his voice made it clear that he not only craved reassurance in that moment, but he also dreaded the thought of being abandoned or left alone. His fear and vulnerability resonated deeply with you, igniting a sense of empathy within your being.

In response to his plea, tears of empathy welled up in your eyes, but you quickly composed yourself, determined to provide him with the reassurance and support he needed. Your smile softened even further as you leaned in and gently pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, aiming to convey your unwavering presence and commitment to him.

In that simple, intimate gesture, your intention was to assure him that you would never leave him. The gentle warmth that your lips offered to his forehead was a physical manifestation of your emotional connection and promise to stand by his side, even through the darkest of moments.

As the vibrant sun gracefully descended beneath the horizon, casting a warm and gentle glow over the surroundings, you found yourself in a position of comfort and solace. It was in this serene moment that you gently aided the man, now affectionately referred to as Legend, in finding peaceful repose. With utmost tenderness, you supported his head against your thighs, a gesture that invoked a flicker of contentment within your heart. A soft smile adorned your face as your delicate fingers mindfully glided through his silky strands of blond hair. Seemingly lost in the tranquilly of the scene, his hat lay peacefully nearby, a testament to the connection you both shared.

Yet, as your eyes wandered beyond the partnered hush, you couldn't help but notice the penetrating gaze of the other men. Caught off guard by their unspoken curiosity, you broke the silence and sought an explanation for their inquisitive stares.

" What? " you inquired, a hint of puzzlement lacing your voice. Uncertainty lingered as to why the sight of you and Legend together seemed to evoke such intrigue.

One of the men, his countenance adorned with distinctive facial markings, stepped forward, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and intrigue. " It's just, " he began, a hint of awe colouring his words.

" We've come to know Legend as a man who rarely succumbs to the solace of sleep. " This revelation nudged your curiosity towards the forefront, urging you to delve deeper into the intricate layers that made up the enigmatic character that was Legend.

With a thoughtful gaze, you studied his slumbering form, tracing the contours of his face with gentle admiration. It was then that your observations brought forth the telltale signs of weariness etched beneath his eyes, appearing as delicate lines reminiscent of the weight he undoubtedly carried. The realization of his sleep-deprived state deepened your understanding of the complexities woven into the fabric of his being.

A second man, adorned in a tunic blending shades of green and brown, broke the silence, his voice carrying a trace of vulnerability and compassion.

" When he does finally surrender to sleep, " he confessed, a hint of trepidation present in his words, " it often leads him down a path plagued by haunting nightmares. " The gravity of this revelation hung heavy in the air, painting a vivid picture of a man who stood on the precipice of sleep, forever entangled in the clutches of his past.

In that moment, the significance of your presence and the solace you provided to Legend transcended mere comfort. Through your touch and unwavering support, you symbolized a sanctuary from the terrors that beset his slumber. And as you continued to tenderly caress his hair, you understood the profound impact of your actions. You had become the guardian of his blissful reprieve, a silent protector ushering him into the realm of restorative dreams, free from the relentless grip of his haunting nightmares.

" I see... " you mumbled, absorbing the information given by the group. They had just discussed their plans to leave the stable tomorrow, but the mere thought of your companion experiencing a violent breakdown during a nightmare tugged at your heartstrings. It was in that moment that you made a firm decision—you needed to stay by his side.

Unable to bear the thought of him suffering, you mustered up the courage to ask, " Can I come along? I can't stand the thought of him enduring pain alone. Please, allow me to join. I may not have experience using a sword, but I have received some basic self-defence training. " As you glanced around the room, your eyes fixated on the swords that were positioned beside each of the men. Their presence intimidated you, yet your determination outweighed any fear.

After a brief pause, one of the men responded, " Well, if you're willing to fight the monsters we encounter on this journey, then sure, you can come with us. "

Relieved by their acceptance, a smile formed on your lips. However, curiosity got the best of you, and you couldn't help but inquire about their names. It was then that Time took the initiative to introduce the group, pointing to each man as he spoke. " You can call me Time. This is Sky, " he gestured towards a man with a cloak and green tunic " Wild, also known as Chef, " he continued, indicating a man who had a blue tunic and ponytail. " Four, or Smith, " Time pointed to yet another member, whose steady gaze exuded a sense of reliability. " Hyrule, or Rulie, " he said, motioning to a man with a brown and green tunic. " Twilight, or Rancher, " Time indicated a figure with a mysterious aura. " Warriors, sometimes referred to as Captain, this is Wind or Sailor " he spoke of a man who emanated authority with a flowing blue scarf and a teen with a blue shirt. Finally, he revealed the man you were holding onto, saying, " And the one you're holding is Legend, though many call him Veteran. "

As the names of these individuals echoed in your mind, you began to piece together the diverse group before you. Each name held significance, representing facets of their personalities and strengths. It was clear that you had joined a band of resilient warriors, ready to face the perils that awaited them on their journey.

With a smile and your heart brimming with anticipation, you eagerly embraced the upcoming adventure. The anticipation was almost palpable in the air. But as excitement engulfed you, your joyous mood was abruptly interrupted when Warriors unexpectedly clasped onto your arm and forcibly guided you towards the stable. The suddenness of this action caught you off guard, resulting in a surprised squeak escaping from your lips.

" Wa-Wait! What about Legend!? " You blurted out, your voice filled with concern, as you were whisked away into the stable against your will.

Inside the stable, as Warriors began examining your attire and diligently taking measurements, you were left puzzled by his actions. What was he doing? Why did he seem so focused on your outfit? These questions swirled around your mind, only adding to your confusion.

" Since you are joining our ranks, wearing a dress simply won't do. Your movements must be unhindered, and you must be prepared for combat at all times, " Warriors explained earnestly, his voice carrying a touch of authority. His words resonated with you, triggering a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. As your mind raced to grasp this sudden change in attire, Warriors assured you that your new outfit would be ready by the following day.

With these words ringing in your ears, you swiftly made your way back to Legend, who lay anxiously in the designated area. His distressed state was evident as he trembled, tossed, and turned, desperately reaching out for your presence. It tore at your heartstrings to witness his unease.

Determined to soothe his worries, you hurriedly approached and embraced him. His trembling arms clung tightly to your waist, seeking comfort and reassurance. As his head nestled against your stomach, his once-tense body gradually relaxed, surrendering to the familiarity of your touch. A genuine smile delicately crept upon your lips as you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, ensuring him of your undying devotion.

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kookie-doughs · 2 months

Text

Evermore

Dracule Mihawk X Reader

-Your evermore with Mihawk is a story to be told

Chapter 2: I Never Needed Anybody In My Life, I Learned The Truth Too Late

Time flowed like a gentle stream within the walls of Mihawk's grand castle, carrying with it a sense of familiarity and routine. The initial weeks of your stay had seen you seamlessly settling into the rhythm of life there, each day bringing a new layer of understanding between you and the enigmatic swordsman.

In the expansive library, you sat on the polished marble floor, nestled between Mihawk's legs. The soft rustling of pages turning mingled with the occasional sound of your voice as you shared snippets of your reading with him. His presence was a constant, a comforting backdrop to the world of words and stories that enveloped you both.

"Did you know," you began, your voice breaking the silence like a delicate melody, "that in the ancient tales of the North Blue, there's a legend of a sword said to be imbued with the power of the winter winds?"

Mihawk's eyes remained fixed on the pages before him, his tone nonchalant. "Indeed, legends often take root in the echoes of truth."

Your lips curled into a playful smile as you continued, undeterred by his lack of overt engagement. "They say that the sword's blade is said to shimmer like ice in the moonlight, and its strike can freeze even the mightiest of flames."

Mihawk's lips curved ever so slightly. "An intriguing concept, if one considers the intricate craftsmanship that could give rise to such a blade."

As the afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the library's arched windows, you found yourself entranced by the book further, your conversations serving as a bridge between two souls who communicated as much through silence as they did through speech.

Eventually, the passage of time prompted a change in rhythm. Mihawk closed his book, his gaze meeting yours with a knowing glint. "It seems hunger has taken its toll. Shall we prepare lunch?"

Your eyes lit up, and you rose to your feet with an eager nod. "Yes! Yes! I'll help."

The journey to the kitchen was a delightful interlude, your steps echoing through the castle's corridors. Mihawk's imposing figure moved with an effortless grace, his strides long and purposeful. And yet, you couldn't help but notice the subtle smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

In the cozy warmth of the kitchen, you moved with practiced ease, gathering utensils and ingredients. Mihawk's attempts to send you back to your previous activities were met with playful defiance, your determination unwavering. "No way. I'm here to help, and that's final."

With a bemused sigh, Mihawk conceded, and together, you embarked on the task of preparing lunch. The kitchen buzzed with activity as you chatted animatedly, your words flowing like a lively river.

"Pasta, again?" Mihawk remarked, his voice tinged with mock exasperation.

You giggled, unfazed by his tone. "Of course! You can't expect me to go a day without my favorite dish, can you? You have to make sure you keep them in stock!"

As the pasta boiled and the aroma of the sauce filled the air, you went on a gleeful tangent about the different types of pasta, the history of Italian cuisine, and the importance of always having pasta in stock.

Mihawk's gaze softened as he observed your enthusiasm, a faint smile gracing his features. "Very well, I shall endeavor to keep an ample supply of pasta on hand."

Your grin widened. "You better!"

As the final touches were added to the meal, Mihawk glanced at you with a mixture of amusement and fondness. "You truly have an uncanny ability to make even the simplest things fascinating."

You beamed at him, your heart swelling with a sense of pride. "That's the magic of pasta, Mihawk."

As the meal was savored in the castle's elegant dining hall, the unspoken bond between you and Mihawk seemed to envelop the space, transcending words and actions. Amidst the shared laughter and the clinking of utensils, a connection had blossomed—one that defied expectations and brought together two souls who had once been strangers.

And as the meal drew to a close, Mihawk's gaze met yours, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "In a few days, we shall venture beyond the castle."

Your curiosity piqued, you leaned forward. "Oh? Where are we going?"

Mihawk's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I have yet to figure that out but, were going out to acquire not just pasta but also clothes and other essentials."

Your eyes widened with a mix of surprise and excitement. The prospect of leaving the castle, of venturing into the outside alongside Mihawk, sent a thrill through your veins.

The candles flickered, casting dancing shadows upon the tapestries that adorned the walls. The aroma of a sumptuous feast wafted through the air. Mihawk calls for his guest to join dinner

As the duo settled into their seats, Mihawk's gaze flickered between the two. "I thought it would be a good opportunity for us to share a meal together."

Perona, who had materialized at the doorway with her characteristic flair, let out an audible groan. "Ugh, not pasta again!"

Mihawk shuts her complain, "Consider it a delicacy, Perona."

She pouted, her incorporeal form floating toward the table. "You always say that, but I'm pretty sure I've had enough pasta to last me a lifetime."

Zoro, his usual stoic expression in place, took his seat and shot a wry glance in Perona's direction. "Just eat it, Perona. It's not gonna kill you."

Perona scowled at him, her annoyance palpable. "And you! You're the last person I want to hear from."

Mihawk's gaze shifted between the two of them. "Let us try to have a peaceful meal."

As the plates were served, the trio began to partake in the feast that had been laid before them. The clinking of cutlery against plates was accompanied by the soft murmur of conversation—a harmony of voices that resonated through the hall.

Perona's displeasure with the pasta seemed to be outweighed only by her distaste for Zoro's presence. "You know," she began, her tone dripping with sarcasm, "I've been stuck with marimo over here for a while now, and let me tell you, it's been a real treat."

Zoro rolled his eyes, unfazed by her remarks. "Yeah, yeah, I know you can't stand me. You don't have to keep reminding me."

Perona made a face of exaggerated disgust as she toyed with her pasta. "And I can't believe you're actually eating that. You'd probably eat anything."

Zoro's response was nonchalant. "It's food. What's the big deal?"

Amidst Perona's grumbling and Zoro's retorts, the meal continued. Finally, as the last bite was taken and the meal drew to a close, Zoro pushed his plate aside and offered a genuine smile. "Thanks for the food."

Perona's annoyance seemed to waver for a moment, replaced by a begrudging acknowledgment. "Yeah, I guess it wasn't as terrible."

Mihawk inclined his head. "Perhaps, Perona, you'll find that new experiences can sometimes lead to pleasant surprises."

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @nykie-love-anime @khaleesihavilliard @littleleelee

#x reader #fanfiction #y/n l/n #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece mihawk #one piece dracule mihawk #one piece hawkeye #mihawk #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #op mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader

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manicpixiefelix · 2 months

Note

oliver l/n is so delicious to think about because it changes the dynamic between him, felix and y/n. will oliver still be as obsessed to felix? probably, i think that is a constant in every iteration of this trio but i do think that felix will be the oliver quick in the dynamic. felix vying for their attention? oh my god.

it changes their dynamic so considerably, but in such a new and fun way. oliver and reader both thinking felix is pretty and vaguely interesting, but they have rich friends, and they have pretty friends, so he's on the back foot for the first time in his life trying to keep their attention.

people tend to give the reader more attention just because they're the more outgoing of the pair, but the reader and oliver are both well aware of this and, despite how cruel it sometimes is, they both find it entertaining the lengths the reader can push clout chasers to before they realise it's all a game. felix is like this at first, vying for the reader's attention in the way he best knows how, by hitting on them with very little subtilty.

except there's something about felix that oliver specifically finds intriguing, and your brother's interest has you paying more attention to the latest of your fawning friends. felix is delighted. he also finally realises the key to work his way into both of your good graces is to pay you and your brother equal attention, rather than just default to you, like the rest of the world likes to. that attention does, at times, turn obsessive, especially when he worries if the two of you are cooling off on him; he already has your class schedules memorised, and your MySpace pages bookmarked on his laptop that he checks like the morning paper, he knows your favourite foods and what the two of you drink at the pubs and clubs and the drugs you prefer when partying. if he put half as much effort into studying he wouldn't be doing nearly so bad in his academic career.

he's just learning how to watch, instead of being watched, so it takes him quite a while to realise that you both know he's been obsessing over you. he shouldn't have been surprised; both of you have years of experience being observant of the world around you. what he was surprised by was realising that you two were enjoying watching him on this journey, that you were allowing him to gather all this information, to obsess about you. there's an unspoken game with voyeuristic intentions that begins to play out between the three of you, all at once watching and watchers, baiting each other into getting glimpses of each other in moments of vulnerability or intimacy that would otherwise be hidden from the most prying of eyes. Which, well, you all were now.

there is definitely something very 'venetia-sitting-on-felix's-lap-at-the-party' about you and oliver, your closeness, how comfortable you are in each other's spaces, how you use each other like furniture, how clinging together seems to bring you both an unspoken comfort, but considering how felix is with his own sister, it's probably a rich person thing, and he doesn't give a fuck one way or the other as long as you're looking at him the rest of the time.

and you and your brother were very good at sharing.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #head heart hand fic #oliver ln au #it shouts back

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xxkitty13 · 3 months

Text

Circus Freaks

LA Buggy x Fem Reader

NSFW

Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 7

Next Chapter: Part 9

Previously: After years of avoiding the cemetery, Y/n decides to finally make a visit. Accompanied by Buggy, they come across a spirit that lures them to a particular tombstone. It happens to be the temple of the island's founder, Febe. There, they find a hidden room inside the old building and discover ancient writings. Meanwhile, Abask Kija, is making a move.

Part 8: The Proposal

The candle wax drips down to the base of the vase. Each drip adds to the pool of hot liquid that surrounds the melting candle. Its flame flickers vigorously, swaying left and right. The corner is solitary and hidden from the rest of the area. One single candle is enough to light the space.

Y/n turns page after page, reading the ancient history of the island. Linguistic books stack on the small desk she sits at. So far, the library provides little information about the dead native language that was once spoke by their ancestors. Nothing appears to match the strange writing engraved on the old temple. She sighs, closing another book, no luck in that one either. Her strained eyes are dry, she closes them and lays her head down on the desk.

A clacking noise nears her isolated corner.

"May I?"

Rubbing her red eyes, she looks to see the owner of the voice.

"Yasi?"

The raven head smiles at her and takes a seat in front of her. He sits with his intertwined hands on the dusty table. His face scowls at the gray particles staining his clean hands. Y/n rolls her eyes, there he goes, too elite for some dirt.

"You're stalking me again? Don't expect me to go on a date with you."

He scoffs. "I just got here and you're already accusing me of such ill acts?"

Y/n only stares back at him. Yasi chuckles, "Ah, you know me so well. I can only blush at that fact." He reaches for her hand, but she smacks it away.

"Geez, no need to be so rude. Anyway, I came here to give you this."

He reaches into his dress pants’ pocket and hands her a white envelope. She grabs it, intrigued on what it held inside. It is sealed with a gold wax; the letter A is stamped in the middle. She carefully opens it and pulls out a red velvet cardstock paper.

"What is this?" she asks.

"It's a formal invitation to a dinner at the mansion. My father personally sent it to you."

Her eyes widened. “Y-your father? Why?”

“I may have mentioned you to him and he’s delighted to finally meet you,” he grins. He gets up from his seat and begins to walk away. “I’ll expect you there. You know my father is an important man. Do not disappoint him.” Yasi gives her a sly smirk before leaving.

Y/n looks at the invitation. The dinner is tonight. She groans, of course he wouldn’t give her time to think about it. Still, the dinner could lead to new information about the island’s past and the mysterious death of her father. With a deep sigh, she departs from the library.

.°˖✧.°˖✧

“What do you mean you’re going?!”

Buggy voice booms throughout the circus tent. His fist slams on the armrest of the wooden chair he sits on. He stands up and snatches the white envelope from her hands.

“Tsk, that brat thinks he can swoon you over with daddy’s money. Ha, pathetic,” he grits, gripping the envelope.

“But Buggy, think about it. We have no leads, this our only chance to find something.”

Buggy sits back on the large chair and angrily takes out the invitation. “The fact that it’s tonight sounds fishy to me,” he says almost crumping the paper.

Y/n heads to him and sits on his lap, facing him. Her hands cup his scratchy face. His green eyes look above and lock with hers. He lets go of the paper, making it fall to the floor. His hands hold both sides of her hips and reals her in closer to his torso.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he whispers.

“Come on Buggy. You know I won’t let Yasi get his way.” Her hand caress his left cheek as she slowly leans towards his face.

A bulge is felt underneath her, right below her ass. She allows her full body weight to press against it, teasing him. His hands grip her sides.

“You know anybody can walk in at any given moment.”

“Oh,” she gasps. “Maybe this was a bad idea.” She tries to get off, but Buggy hold is strong.

“Where are you going little lady? You have to finish what you’ve started,” his raspy voice sends chills down her spine.

He unbuttons her pants and y/n unconsciously helps him out. All is left of her bottom half are her panties. Buggy removes one of his gloves and feels under her sex. Y/n jumps at the rough touch.

“Look at you, already wet. You naughty girl.” He slaps her ass, making her yelp. His fingers slide the panties off to the side and slithers his way to touch her wet folds. His thumb makes it way to her enlarged clit, he presses his digit against the raised tissue. She mewls at the slight pressure. “Is this what you want? Why didn’t you say so earlier,” he teases.

“T-this is not what I had in mind.”

“Were you really leaning in for just a kiss?” He grabs a fistful of her hair and reals her in. “Come on baby, you don’t have to act so innocent.” His lips smashes against her own. With the deepening of the kiss, his index finger abruptly shoves inside of her.

“B-buggy, be gentle!”

He simply laughs and begins to finger her.

“What if somebody comes in?!”

“Then we’ll give them a show.” He adds a second finger inside and quickens the pace. Y/n holds her moans, not wanting to attract people to the ring. “Don’t hide it,” he grabs her throat and slightly squeezed his hand around her neck.

“B-buggy.”

“That’s more like it. Let’s take it up a notch.”

His fingers leave her wet insides. She relaxes at the lost feeling. Buggy unbuckles his belt and pulls down his leather pants. As soon as y/n sees his boxers, she knew what was coming next.

He pulls them down and his hard erection springs out. Precum oozes out of his slit and down his rosy tip. Using his hands, he lifts y/n from her bottom and positions her body with his erection.

“Buggy are we really doing this in here? N-no, someone will catch us.”

“Relax babe, the thrill turns me on.”

He slaps her tender thigh and guides her down to his exposed groin. She bites her lips, it will be her second time experiencing an intimate session with the man. The act still frightens her, but she is eager to experience the blissful pleasure once more. Buggy aligns his wet tip to her entrance. With her body coming down, he pushes the tip inside the prepped hole.

Buggy grunts as his shaft is swallowed by her tight walls. His hands are now placed on her waist, pushing her down on his crotch. Y/n controls her breathing as his cock ripped her apart once more. Her insides burn, she tries to relax her tight body.

“Fuck darling, you’re quite tense aren’t you?” He grits. His hands massage her lower back, going under her shirt to feel her smooth skin.

“Let’s fix that.” He bucks himself up inside of her.

Y/n feels her body jump up in the air and back down on his member. She feels his tip hit right at her cervix; the feeling is painful. Her body falls onto his chest as her hands hold onto his shoulders for support. Buggy grunts as her nails dig at his skin, the pain turns him on. His coarse hands cup both cheeks of her bottom and manually fucks her, still thrusting deep within.

The labor is intense, but the pirate enjoys every second of it. The stinging pain vanishes, and y/n finally loosens up to the penetration. Moans fill the empty ring, echoing throughout the thin curtains of the tent.

"Buggy more-" she audibly gasps.

"As you wish, princess."

Buggy wastes no time in pumping his swollen shaft into her throbbing pussy. The slick clenching walls surround him with immense pleasure. Sweat drips from his forehead, catching his breath becomes harder. Each thrust sends an electrifying sensation with y/n's core. Despite the harsh movements, his dick hits every spot so nicely.

His hands grip onto her reddened cheeks, absolutely violating her pussy to reach his orgasm. Hot cum suddenly shoots out, Buggy barely held off before pulling out. "Shit, that was fucking amazing," he groans, throwing his head back.

Y/n completely falls over him and buries her face onto the crook of his neck. She engulfs his musky scent, falling more for the pirate. Their pants fill the void of the area as they calm their hormones.

"Are you happy now, grumps?"

Buggy rolls his eyes. "No."

She gets a hold of his soft dick and tightly wraps her hand around it.

"Ow, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I have to attend; this is our ticket to find answers." Buggy wiggles around and tries to remove the death grip on his dick. "Fine, just let go. It fucking hurts."

He sighs in relief and immediately puts it back inside his boxers. "I'm sending Cabaji with you."

"How would that work? They're cameras everywhere."

"Don't underestimate him, he has plenty of tricks up his sleeves."

.°˖✧.°˖✧

Y/n stands before the large gate of the Abask estate. It was not easy making it out of the circus grounds. Buggy could not fathom letting her leave with a tight dress to present to the enemy. Somehow, Cabaji and Mohji calmed him down before her exit. Cabaji accompanied her halfway to the place before disappearing. She wonders how he would enter without being caught.

She hesitantly rings the bell, and the metal doors creak open. A horse carriage arrives shortly, two black stallions halt in front of the stone path. The coachman jumps from his seat and opens the small door to the carriage.

He assists y/n inside and is greeted by Yasi, who wears a navy blue suit.

“Isn’t this a bit extra?”

“Nonsense. Why must we walk when we can enjoy the luxury of a carriage ride.”

She sighs and looks outside the small window. Beautiful green magnolias line the path they travel in. Beyond that, the lush lawn expands across the large property. A waste of space, the amount of land could be used to nourish the wildlife, instead boring blades of grass cover the ground.

The horse carriage nears the mansion. It is her first time seeing the grand home, only a few are able to enter the estate. The building is old, but still in its glory.

The coachman guides the stallions to the front of the mansion and allows its passengers to get off. Yasi helps y/n out the carriage and guides her inside his home. The pillars are larger in person, meters up in the air. She is already astonished and has not taken a step inside.

The large white doors open for them, and they both enter. A large chandelier hovers above the main lobby. The spiral of white crystals glow and glimmer. In front of them stands a stone statue of a young male angel, ironic for the family to own a holy entity.

"Y/n, I have various wardrobes you can change into. The materials are of higher quality than that tawdry dress you wear."

Yasi points to the long black gown she wears. It is the only adequate attire she has for the event. "I think the dress is fine. . ." she says, adding a lingering awkwardness in the room. The young man clears his throat, already starting on the wrong foot. "Okay, if you like it. . . well, let's head to the dining area."

He extends his hand and y/n accepts it. Yasi gives her a warm smile, it is a rare expression, she only brushes it off. The pair proceed to exit the main lobby. Y/n looks back briefly, Cabaji has somehow made his way up the grand stairs, a true master of breaking in. She turns away and hopes the acrobat will find what they're looking for.

The long hallways are well lit, the white marble floors shine beautifully with its gold specs. Large paintings hang on both sides of the white walls. Each painting tells its own story, the lavish scenery of the island's landscape is depicted lividly.

"I see that you like the art, wait till you see the ones upstairs," he smirks. As much as y/n hates to admit it, she is intrigued by his comment. She wonders what other things the mansion holds.

Breaking her thought, the bright light of the large room ahead of them catches her attention.

"At last, you've arrived," a deep and hoarse voice calls out to her.

In front of her stands a large man that towers over her. She gasps, children will have similar features to their parents, but Yasi and his father are like twins. The older man reaches for her hand, gold gem rings decorate his long fingers. Y/n slowly goes to touch his rough hand, the man kisses the top of her as a sign of respect.

"Y/n, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Yasi's father, Kija."

"I-it's nice to meet you as well, sir."

Kija laughs softly, his croaky voice clearly dominant, "Noris, go ahead and seat our guest."

The main butler of the house arrives, the black suit he wears shows the prestige of his title, he's an older man who smugly looks at the new guest.

"My lady, let me guide you to your seat."

Y/n is seated at the tail end of the rectangle table. Yasi sits adjacent to her, and his father sits at the opposite end of the table. Despite being sat at the furthest end, Kija voice is able to be head across the room. A powerful voice from a powerful man. Y/n felt uncomfortable facing Kija, his piercing eyes are icier than Yasi's.

"Don't mind my father, he has a habit of studying the people around him."

"Yes, I can tell. . ."

Servants of the mansion arrive with lavish plates of gourmet meals. The aroma of each cuisine brought a grumble to y/n's stomach. Embarrassed, she hopes no one heard it.

After the appetizing meal, the servants clear the dining room leaving y/n alone with the Abask men. Kija clears his throat; his face becomes serious. Those icy blue eyes stare her down.

"Y/n I am pleased that you enjoyed the food that our top chefs prepared. Now, I want to explain my reason for inviting you over." He looks at his son, who slowly gulps, with a stern look. “Yasi here is fond of you. He rambles about you all daylong and never seems to think of anything else. Clearly, I am intrigued about the woman who has captured my son’s attention. After our short time together, I see why that’s so.”

Y/n grips the sides of her dress. She knows Yasi is obsessed with her, but she did not think he would go in details to his father. How much does Mr. Abask know?

“What do you mean? I’m just a regular person. I think Yasi just can’t get over a simple childhood crush.”

“What? Y/n, I know I can be persistent-”

“You’ve been such a brute towards me. Your behavior is strange and violent,” she cuts him off.

Before Yasi could speak, Kija interjects, “I am deeply sorry about my son’s behavior. I thought I raised him better than that.” Yasi huffs. Kija continues. “My son has grown to be a mature man and will change such ill habits. Though, he is still young, I can see his feelings are true. It is only through his immaturity that he has not expressed them in a healthy manner.”

“Dad stop embarrassing me.”

“It is true, is it not?”

He scoffs and turns away from y/n. For the first time, his eyes soften as he peaks at her. Could it be true? All this time does he feel love? It is nonsense, only young boys treat their crushes like that, but he is a spoiled brat after all. Even so, his actions have no excuse.

“With all due respect, I find it hard to believe.”

“I do not blame you. Yasi, as a man, apologize to this young lady.”

His eyes lock with hers. He fiddles around, it is unusual to see him agitated. “Y/n I,”— he grabs her hands— “I sincerely apologize for all the awful things I’ve done to you. I let myself be a horrid monster around you. Nothing can excuse my toxic behavior. I don’t expect forgiveness, but I do hope you understand that I mean it.”

Y/n looks at him astonished. Never in a million years would she have thought to hear the entitled man take blame. Taken aback, she is not able to respond to the apology.

“Y/n, with that in mind, there is something I would like to ask you. I know it is unprecedented. . .” A long pause brings tension between the two. His hold becomes tighter. “I want to propose the idea of marriage.”

“Marriage?!”

The air in the dining room becomes awfully thick. Her sweaty palms tremble. What a daring question to ask. “Y-yasi I-I. . . I don’t know what to say. . .”

Her gaze turns to Kija. The intense stare brings shudders down her spine. “I-I can’t Yasi. . .”

Defeated, Yasi drops his hold and looks down at the marbled floor like a scolded dog.

“Y/n,” Kija says firmly. “Please, rethink my son’s offer.”

Her full attention is turned to the older man.

“I understand my son has done some questionable things, but his love is sincere. Second chances often result in a beautiful blossom.”

“Sir, I don’t like the idea of marriage being forced down on me.”

“Force? No, no. . .” Kija takes a cigar from the inside pocket of his suit. He lights the large cigarette and places the brown rolled paper in his mouth. “It is a proposition of course. I want to be honest miss y/n, I proposed the idea to Yasi after finding out you are the Ti’s daughter.”

“What do they have to do with this?”

“You see, the Ti’s are in a debt. A massive one.”

“Debt? No, it can’t be.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t mentioned it to you.”

Y/n scoffs. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe you. Why would you give them a free voyage knowing they owe you money?”

Kija laughs. “That voyage happened to be my old vacation plan. I know the Ti’s were dealing with the stress of accumulating their payment and I wanted to do a good deed. However,”— he puffs out the reeking smoke— “I see no solution to their problem.”

He stands up and walks towards the grand entry of the dining room. His footsteps halt. “I thought of a way to clear their debt and only one happened to work. If you marry Yasi, they are able to keep their lovely property.”

Kija eyes trail to Y/n. A sinister intent lingers behind those cold irises. “Think about it. I am willing to forgive a debt as you should be willing to forgive my son.” He gives her a charming smile, a fake one. It drops immediately, he turns away and makes his exit.

Conflicted, y/n hastily gets up from her seat and storms out of the dining area.

“Y/n wait!”

Yasi goes to grab her arm, but Y/n pulls away from his grip.

“I’m not being forced? Bullshit!”

“Y/n, listen please-“

“Your father is only giving me one option to help my parents and it is very clear that I can’t refuse. You knew about this. You’re taking advantage of the situation to marry me, what is wrong with you?!” she spits out. “And I was only beginning to feel like I should forgive you.” She storms away, leaving Yasi alone in the empty room.

"I didn't know. . ." he says, his arms reaching out to her.

Y/n heels clack harshly against the floor, every detail of the mansion fills her rage. The materialistic items that decorate the place only reminds her of the wealth and power the rich own. She will not be the next thing to be labeled as their property. As she strode down the hallway to reach the main lobby, she noticed Mr. Abask on the second floor, leaning against the railing. He gestures her goodbye with one hand, barely hiding his smirk.

She simply ignores him and marches out the front doors. The coachman spots y/n and calls out for her. "Miss, would you like an escort to the front gate?"

"No thank you, I can walk there myself."

"B-but young lady, are you able to walk with heels?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to use their services."

The man watches the young woman march away on the paved driveway. He sighs and begins to return to his nap, but a familiar yell startles him.

"Hurry, take me to her." Yasi gets in the carriage and the coachman pulls on the reins of the horses. It did not take long for the carriage to reach y/n, she continues to walk, ignoring the large horses next to her.

"Y/n, let me explain."

"No. Leave me alone."

"Ugh, for once, listen to me."

She glares at him and snaps her head forward. "Y/n. At least get inside, it's a long way to the gate." The sound of the clacking stops, alongside with the hooves of the stallions, the door opens, and she heads inside.

The ride is silent, the clacking of the hoofs ring loud in their ears. The two keep their distance as they look outside the small windows. Yes, the estate is beautiful, everything is something anyone could dream for, but at what cost? All the blood, sweat, and tears of the poor. She'll be damned to do the same.

The horses halt, they're finally at the gate. The coachman opens the door for y/n and helps her out the carriage. The gates open and she walks closer to them.

"Y/n."

She turns to face Yasi, who sits inside.

"Be careful."

"What do you mean?"

"My father. . . he is not a kind man. I wish the marriage would be on different terms, but I realized my mistakes too late. I'm sorry I dragged you into this. Please, reconsider his offer before someone gets hurt."

The carriage leaves and y/n stands dumbfounded. "Hurt?" Regret and fear were expressed in his tone, it was genuine. Her heart pounds, he is not one to show those emotions, what will Kija do? She stares at the departing horse carriage and slowly begins to exit the estate. Finally, she is out.

"Psst."

"Huh?" She looks around to see who made that sound. A bush rustles alongside the large walls that lined the property. "Y/n, it's me." A head pops out of the prickly bush.

"Shit, that fucking hurt," Cabaji says removing the thorns off his clothing.

"Oh, I completely forgot you were inside. How did you manage to get out?"

"It’s a long story, I’ll explain it later.”

“Well, did you find anything?”

Cabaji face immediately turns pale. He clears his throat, “Let’s get back to our base. We don’t want to linger here any longer.”

Puzzled in his change of tone, she follows after him, curious to know the details of his findings.

Immediately upon her return, Buggy marches towards the center of the ring. He reels y/n by her waist and inspects every inch of her body.

“Nobody touched you, right?”

“I’m fine Buggy.”

“Well, what was the reason for your presence?”

Y/n felt her heart drop. Knowing the pirate, he will make a dramatic scene in front of everybody. “Well…” She averts her gaze to the ground.

“Well?” Buggy says back, growing impatient.

“Buggy, do not get mad when I say this, but…”

“Just say it already.”

Closing her eyes, she shouts, “He wants me to marry Yasi!”

The ring becomes silent. Y/n opens her eyes to see Buggy’s reaction. To her surprise, he looked unfazed. She sighs, it went better than expected, but it was too soon. The pirate twitched his hands before exploding.

“MARRIAGE?!”

Then all hell broke loose.

#one piece #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x fem reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #captain buggy #opla buggy #op buggy

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coeluvr · 11 months

Note

Hey Coe, do you remember that ask a while back with the three scenarios? You answered the one about the ROs finding MC crying at a party, but what about the other two? I can't link the ask as anon, but I trust you know what I'm talking about?

I'm really curious about the other scenarios and I hope you can answer them soon. You don't have to, but I'd appreciate it ;-;

I do! I was in the process of writing it but now I'll speed through it since people are actually waiting for it 😭

This is the second one!

How would the ROs (and others) react to finding a box containing letters to MC's dead family? How would they react to finding letters addressed to them? confession letter that was hidden away because mc is too afraid to say anything?

Fadiya

The weight of the emotions contained within the pages would make tears well up in her eyes. The weight of their pain would become her pain, and the significance of their grief would leave an indelible mark on her.

If she found a confession letter, the revelation would freeze her in surprise.

For a fleeting moment, Fadiya stands there, her usual chatter silenced, her vibrant spirit momentarily subdued.

Her heart pulsates with a tumultuous mix of excitement and uncertainty as if caught in the delicate balance between the anticipation of newfound affection and the hesitance of the unknown.

Helios

I think Helios wouldn't go through the box unless it was conveniently open for him to see. He values privacy and understands the importance of personal boundaries.

However, if the box happened to be open or left in plain sight, his eyes would be drawn to the letters, and against his better judgment, he would find himself skimming through them.

He would feel a lot of guilt as he reads them. Each sentence is like a dagger to his conscience, a reminder of the irreversible pain his father inflicted upon MC and their loved ones.

If he found a confession letter then I think he would mainly feel disbelief and confusion. Could he allow himself to embrace the possibility of something despite the past?

Hunter

As they read through the heartfelt letters addressed to MC's deceased family, a somber understanding settles in their eyes.

Their heart would skip a beat if they discover a letter addressed to them.

Time would feel like it momentarily slowed, the weight of realization settles upon them like a feather and a boulder all at once.

The revelation that MC harbors feelings for them stirs a tender warmth deep within Hunter's heart.

It is a warmth that seems to thaw the layers of caution and reserve that has been shielding their heart for a long time.

Soarine

Soarine notices the small things so her finding the box isn't too surprising.

Her gaze dances over the heartfelt words addressed to MC's deceased family, a fleeting glimpse of sympathy and understanding crossing her face.

If she found a letter that bears her name, she would be intrigued. Her eyes widen ever so subtly, a spark of surprise and curiosity igniting within. Soarine's fingers delicately trace the lines of the letter, her touch a gentle acknowledgment of the vulnerability it holds.

I think the letter would bring forth a mix of delight and excitement, as if a long-awaited treasure has been bestowed upon her.

Vincent

Somehow I think Vincent would know the existence of the box before seeing it. He's weirdly observant, okay? Just like Helios, I doubt he would go through the letters unless it was open in front of him. I think he wouldn't read the ones addressed to MC's family, understanding that those words were meant solely for them and their departed loved ones.

But then, his gaze would freeze upon a particular letter, one that carries his name. His usually guarded expression would soften, revealing a mix of astonishment, vulnerability, and a hint of fear.

I think he would laugh, not mockingly or dismissively, but with an overwhelming sense of disbelief at the confession written in the letter.

#coe answers #coaaf if: fadiya #coaaf if: helios #coaaf if: hunter #coaaf if: soarine #coaaf if: vincent #crown of ashes and flames #crownofashesandflames if #crownofashesandflames #interactive fiction #interactive story

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your-local-simp-writers · 22 days

Text

Glitter and Memories

Word Count: 735

Warnings: None

Cater Diamond x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Cater flashed his signature grin, his eyes twinkling with the same mischievous spark that had first drawn you in. “Today’s the day we let our creativity run wild,” he declared, spreading an array of art supplies across the table.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the enthusiasm he exuded. “And what exactly do we have planned, Diamond?”

With a flourish, he presented a scrapbook, its pages blank and waiting to be filled with memories. “We’re going to capture the magic of our everyday moments,” he said, “and maybe add a little twist.”

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the glitter, glue, and colorful paper that surrounded you. Cater’s excitement was infectious, and soon you found yourself fully immersed in the project, cutting and pasting with more gusto than you’d ever thought possible.

As the scrapbook began to take shape, Cater paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “You know what this needs? A centerpiece that truly pops.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what might that be?”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Cater reached under the table and pulled out a miniature volcano kit, complete with baking soda and vinegar. “Remember making these in school? Let’s recreate that magic.”

The next hour was a blur of laughter and creativity as you both constructed the volcano, decorating it with an extravagance that only Cater could inspire. And when it came time to make it erupt, you both held your breath, counting down before pouring the vinegar into the crater.

The reaction was immediate, a frothy explosion of glitter-infused lava that spilled over the sides, much to your delight. Cater’s laughter mingled with yours, the sound as bright and vibrant as the sparkling mess you’d created. As the glitter from the volcanic eruption settled, Cater turned to you with a playful challenge in his eyes. “I bet you can’t make a more extravagant page than I can,” he teased, his competitive streak shining through.

You accepted the challenge with a smile, knowing full well that Cater’s artistic skills were top-notch. “You’re on, Diamond. Prepare to be dazzled.”

The two of you dove into the task, each trying to outdo the other with elaborate designs and creative use of materials. Cater was a master of color, his pages a vibrant tapestry that told stories without words. You, on the other hand, had a knack for storytelling, your pages weaving narratives that brought smiles and occasional laughter.

As you both worked, your shoulders brushed, and every so often, Cater would lean over to plant a quick kiss on your cheek, leaving a faint smudge of glitter in his wake. “For good luck,” he’d say, though you both knew it was just an excuse to be close.

The hours slipped by, marked by the soft sound of scissors cutting paper and the occasional burst of laughter when one of you made a particularly bold artistic choice. “Look at this,” Cater said, holding up a page where he’d managed to create a 3D effect with layers of paper. “It’s like we could step right into the scene.”

You admired his work, genuinely impressed. “It’s amazing, Cater. But wait until you see what I’ve got planned for the next page.” You revealed your surprise—a series of photos from your first date, carefully arranged to tell the story of that magical night.

Cater’s eyes softened as he looked at the photos, and he reached out to trace the edge of one with a finger. “That was a good night,” he murmured, and you could hear the love in his voice.

“It was the start of something wonderful,” you agreed, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature.

Eventually, the scrapbook was filled to the brim with memories, each page a testament to the bond you shared. Cater closed the book gently, his hand lingering on the cover. “This is more than just a book,” he said, looking up at you with earnest eyes. “It’s a piece of us.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words. “And we’ll keep adding to it, page by page, memory by memory.”

Cater pulled you into a hug, the kind that said everything without a single word. And in that moment, surrounded by the chaos of your creative endeavors, you knew that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

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midastouch013 · 28 days

Text

Pinocchio Situation

Wanda x Natasha (Romantic) ; WandaNat x Reader (Platonic)[Pronouns not specified for reader]

Summary: A spell goes awry, and does it reveal some feelings?

Warnings: None, just reader playing cupid

To the anon who requested this, I know you didn't ask for reader, so she's not involved romantically but just as their bestfriend and residential matchmaker. I wasn't really satisfied with how I'd gotten Nat to admit her feelings here, but I hope you like it

-----------

In a cozy corner of the Avengers compound, you watched with intrigue as Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, delved into her spellcasting. Her focus was palpable, her determination evident as she navigated the intricate pages of her spellbook. Beside her, Natasha Romanoff, the formidable Black Widow, observed with a mixture of amusement and skepticism.

"You sure about this, Wanda?" you quipped, unable to resist teasing your friend.

Wanda flashed you a confident smile, though a flicker of uncertainty betrayed her. "Absolutely. Trust me, I've got this under control."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Famous last words," you remarked, earning a chuckle from Natasha.

As Wanda began her incantation, the room filled with a crackling energy, promising magic in the air. Yet, just as quickly as it began, the spell seemed to falter, a chaotic burst of light enveloping Natasha.

Natasha's reaction was immediate, a cool mask of composure settling over her features as she felt an inexplicable tingling in her nose.

"What's happening?" she inquired, her voice steady despite her obvious confusion.

Wanda's eyes widened in horror as the consequences of her spell became apparent. "Oh no, Natasha, I think I may have done the wrong spell," she confessed, rushing to Natasha's side.

Natasha's attempt to conceal her mild panic was futile, though her expression remained composed. "What did you do?" she demanded, her voice laced with a hint of exasperation.

With a sense of urgency, Wanda attempted to reverse the spell, but to no avail. The magic seemed determined to defy her every effort.

As Natasha's nose continued to grow, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of concern and amusement, looking over at the book from which Wanda had spelled, you chuckled. "Looks like you've got a Pinocchio situation going on, Nat," you remarked, a grin tugging at your lips.

Natasha arched an eyebrow, though there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Just another day at the office," she quipped, her tone dry yet undeniably playful.

And sure enough, as Natasha attempted to deny the effects of the spell, her nose betrayed her, growing longer with each little white lie

------

With each fib, Natasha's discomfort became more apparent, though she maintained her stoic facade. "Well, this is certainly inconvenient," she muttered under her breath, her frustration thinly veiled.

As Natasha's discomfort became more apparent with each fib, you couldn't help but feel a surge of mischievous delight. There was a golden opportunity here, one that you couldn't pass up, being the Avenger's residential matchmaker, you were the reason Bucky and Steve were together after all.

"Come on, Nat, spill the beans," you teased, your tone laced with sarcasm. "We all know you've got a soft spot for Wanda."

Natasha's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, a scowl forming on her lips. "What are you talking about? I don't have feelings for Wanda," she protested, though her words rang hollow.

But as soon as the denial left her mouth, her nose betrayed her once again, growing longer with each passing second.

You couldn't help but grin triumphantly, knowing that you had struck a nerve. "Oh, come on, Nat. Your nose doesn't lie," you teased, unable to contain your amusement. "It's pretty clear that you've got a thing for Wanda."

Natasha's eyes widened in realization, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment crossing her features. "I… well, maybe I do," she admitted reluctantly, her mortification, apparent.

As Natasha's nose grew longer, her cheeks tinged red, almost like her hair, and Wanda couldn't help but feel flustered herself. The realization that Natasha might have feelings for her was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

Wanda's scarlet eyes darted between Natasha and you, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I… I didn't expect this," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

You let out an exasperated groan, unable to contain your frustration. "Oh, for the love of… will you two just admit you like each other already?"

Natasha's gaze flickered to Wanda, a nervous smile tugging at her lips. "Um, Wanda… would you maybe want to go on a proper date with me sometime?" she asked, her voice hesitant but hopeful.

Wanda's eyes widened in surprise, a warmth spreading through her chest. "I'd love to, Nat," she replied, a wide smile lighting up her face. "Just let me know when and where."

As Natasha's smile grew, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Finally, after all the teasing and awkwardness, they had admitted their feelings for each other. And as you watched the scene unfold before you, a sense of satisfaction washed over you. After all, sometimes a little meddling was exactly what true love needed to blossom.

—--

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rom-e-o · 1 year

Text

“Enact it with me? Please?” (Scrooge x OC NSFW Fic)

You know the whole Booktok trend of romance novel readers asking their partners to enact the scene where a character seductively leans against the door to flirt with/kiss their partner?

Well, when Constance and some of the other ladies get inspired by a romance novel from their new book club, she can’t resist asking him for a bit of a favor.

Of course, he doesn’t mind...obliging. ;)

Also posted on AO3. This is an 18+ fic! MINORS, DO NOT INERACT!

Fic under cut.

As soon as he walked in the front door, he heard giggling.

Scrooge smiled at the sound, acknowledging how coming how to the sounds of sweet mirth was becoming more and more of a normality for him. It was more common than not to hear his lover Constance’s musical laughter fill the hallways. It was a beautiful and energizing sound, even after a long day of toiling stiff-legged at his desk in the counting-house.

He removed his hat and coat, effectively shedding the stress of the day as he left the more formal garments on the coatrack near the door.

Prudence, who had loyally walked at his side with her usual saintly gait, charged ahead to assume a position by the fireplace. She grabbed one of her newest bones from the butcher and marched it to the fireplace like a show-pony showing off a brand-new prize ribbon.

“Ebenezer?” her voice called inquisitively from somewhere beyond the foyer. Her lightly-accented Brooklyn cadence was nothing sort of saccharine, which he knew was a sign that she was up to delightful mischief.

“I just got in,” he called to her, the timbre of his voice deep, filling the halls of the mansion as easily as the toll of a church bell.

“Oh, wonderful!” she returned, “Can you come here? Pretty please?”

Goodness, she sounded impish, and he made no endeavor to hide his curiosity about it.

“I know that tone, I’m afraid,” he started to playfully say as he drifted up the stairs. “What am I in for?”

“Just hurry!” Constance called back.

Chuckling to himself, he slipped both hands in his pockets and kept a steady pace up the stairs. “A moment, dear. Where are you?”

“The sitting-room!”

As he reached the top of the stairs, followed the sound of her laughter and, sure enough, found her curled up in front of the room’s fireplace. Instead of resting upon one of the room’s many chairs or loveseats, each one adorned with enough pillows to please a fleet of show dogs, her exquisite form was curled up on the rug before the room’s roaring hearth. Even in profile, flames licked delightful shapes over the slopes and planes of her body.

She was dressed casually in a cornflower-blue satin gown, a color that mimicked the same hue as her eyes.

“I want to try something,” she said, the bottom half of her face concealed by an open book. Even though her lips were concealed by the pages, he could clearly see from her dimpled cheeks that she was grinning ear to ear.

“Hello to you, too,” he said playfully, crossing his arms. “My goodness, I leave for one walk and come back to the most coquettish grin I think I’ve ever seen.”

Out of curiosity, he glimpsed the cover of the book as he stepped closer. It took quite a few steps (he was still fighting the internal battle about finally admitting he needed glasses) but as soon as the text became readable to him, he couldn’t resist having a tiny smirk cross his face.

In flowery script, the book’s title read: “The Dowager’s Bodyguard.”

“Well, you’ve been doing some reading,” he teased, reaching out to run his fingers along the dusty-pink spine, which was finished with golden accents. It was a very pretty book, but clearly one of a certain taste. Gently, he plucked it from her fingertips and rotated it around so he could read the text on the pages.

Almost immediately, his brows shot up in amusement, then furrowed in intrigue in response to the text on the page:

He lips sought her with the fury of a storm ravaged a coast it had spent a season away from. His body crashed into hers with twice the power, knocking his love back against the door frame. Thankfully, the wide breadth of his chest was there to catch her and keep her pinned.

“Oh, Oscar, you cannot…” Alma pleaded, although the sound was muffled against his lips. “We are not yet wed.”

“To hell with vows and ceremony,” he growled in her ear. “Bread and circuses, nothing more.”

“O-Oscar, please…” she said, though her moans betrayed her persona of modesty.

“What do you want?”

“I-I want…”

“Look at me while you answer," he growled.

“I want to make you—”

The rest was quite…salacious in nature.

“Some interesting reading, indeed,” Ebenezer said, giving his lover an amused look over the top of the pages.

“Isn’t it just fine?” she asked, standing up to meet his gaze. "Hela recommended it to me! She loaned it to me from a personal collection, too. So, please be gentle!”

“Hela did, you sat?” he asked, then sighed playfully. He shut the blood with a one-handed flick of the wrist.

Constance blinked suddenly, then blushed. “Oh, was that too much insight into your niece’s head?”

A bit, he supposed, but he was nothing if not mature enough for it to not bother him.

“Oh, worry not, my dear,” he said quickly, wanting to squash any concerns of hers as quickly as possible. “Why, novels like this are popular for a reason! Everyone reads them.”

“Everyone?” she asked. “Including you?”

He didn’t answer the second question. “It’s nothing to gawk over. Perfectly normal, I’d say."

“Mmhmm.”

He wondered if Harry knew, and if he should bless his nephew with the knowledge. Not to be a tattletale, but to provide the man some helpful insight into some lovely surprises for his wife. Then again, they already had a lovely child to call their own, so perhaps he was already aware.

“We have a book club that Ethel, Hela and I started a month or so ago,” Constance continued to explain. “Some other ladies are joining too! The two women from the Festive Fund for the Poor – what are their names? – anyway, they’re joining too! Also, Mrs. Jenkins is going to join us! Oh, but don’t tell Tom…he might combust from embarrassment.”

“A club?” he asked in intrigue. How had he not noticed that? Was he falling too much into work that he was failing to notice such obvious things as he lover’s new hobby? The thought troubled him slightly. However, he didn’t have too much time to mull it over, as Constance was quick to return to the point.

“So, you’re probably wondering why I rushed you here,” Constance started nervously, poking her hair behind her ears.

“I’ll never pass up a chance to be with you,” he said with a shrug, “But I am a bit curious about the occasion, I’ll admit.”

“Well, um, there is a part in the book…”

Oh. Ohhh.

Backtracking a bit, he drifted across the room to a small mahogany and gold end table that sat adjacent to the chaise. Ebenezer leaned against the piece, crossing his arms and ankles in amusement as he watched her. “Yes?”

“W-Where the main character, um, heroine, is in her study, and her friend—”

“Friend?” he asked, eyes sparkling playfully. “They appear to be more than friends, from what little I glimpsed.”

She swallowed. “Right, um, yes. He comes in and leans against the doorframe with his arm up. Like, um…”

Constance was around 5’7”, but still shorter than Ebenezer’s towering 6’4”. As such, she looked rather adorable when she reached her arm up and tried to mimic the pose, especially when there was nothing for her hand to latch onto it. It looked more like she was a mime trying to reach for an invisible bag of sugar on an equally invisible kitchen shelf.

He chuckled slightly, and she puckered at him.

“Hey, don’t laugh!” she challenged lightly.

“Can’t help it,” he teased. “You are a sight.”

Constance tried to eye him sternly, but there was no venom behind her stare, no matter how much she tried to play the part by squinting her eyes and furrowing her mouth. Ebenezer only stared back at her with a knowing smirk.

“Continue,” he said, urging her on with a wave of the hand. “Please.”

“W-Well, her friend—er, companion, approaches her. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, then runs a hand through his hair. Then, he gets really close, puts an arm up on the doorway, leans in, and…”

She brought a hand up to her only neck slowly. “Grabs her like this, around the neck to hold her in place.”

“Heavens.”

“Not hard! Gently. Then, um…yes.”

Of course, he could fill in the blank from there. Yet, he eyed her curiously. “And you’d like me to…?”

“Enact it with me?” she asked, her tone hiking up at the end, so it was more of a question than a request. “Please?”

She certainly wouldn’t force him, but it was easy to see from the way she bit her lip and eyed him expectantly with her hands nervously tangled behind her back, that she was very interested in the idea.

Thankfully, he was interested as well.

“I’m not sure how well I’ll measure up to a fictional bodyguard,” he admitted with a light grin as he went to undo his cuff links, “But, as always, your wish is my command.”

Ebenezer stood at his full height, starting with his left sleeve, and rolled it up easily until it settled at the top of his forearm.

He did the task slowly, making an unintentional show of it, not realizing how the simple action grabbed the woman’s interest and held it captive.

Fold by fold, the bare expanse of his forearms was exposed.

“O-Oh, my,” she said, watching and giggling at the sight. Her hands flew to her lips as she tried and failed to suppress a smile. She even giggled girlishly, like a schoolgirl who had found a love note atop her writing desk.

Upon looking at her curiously and seeing she was already a wide-eyed, simpering mess, he looked at her in amusement.

“…Truly?” he asked, eyes flitting down to the sleeves he’d simply rolled to his elbow. “This?”

“Yes,” she said, almost sounding pitiful.

To say the man was gobsmacked would be an understatement.

“…It’s that simple?”

“Yeees,” she admitted, head falling into her hands. Goodness, her cheeks were as red as her strawberry- blonde hair.

Truthfully, the man wasn’t sure whether he should he flattered or dismayed by the reaction. “Is the bar so low for men that little things like this are enough to fantasize over?”

“Yeeeeeeees,” she groaned in admission, face sagging further into her hands. Then, she gasped playfully, as if she’d been caught red-handed in the middle of committing some crime. The gasp was so convincing that Ebenezer even tensed for a moment, expecting something was wrong.

However, this trepidation fluttered away like a summer cicada when she twirled around in mock dismay, hand pressed to her forehead in faux shame.

“I’ve said too much,” she admitted, her voice nearly reaching a falsetto. “I’ve given you the keys to the kingdom. Now you can run rampant and woo all the ladies and men you want!”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the blush on his cheeks.

“A bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Ebenezer reminded her, trying to keep his stern persona in check.

“Oh, woe is me! I’ve betrayed my kind!” she cried, swaying again on her feet.

“Your kind?” he asked in spirited confusion. “Whom would that be? Overdramatic redheads from New York?”

“Those who worship the beauty of the male form,” she supplied, sweeping her arm in his general direction. “Forms like yours.”

“Mine?” he guffawed, fingers splaying over his chest.

“Yes, yours! And the Grecian gods. Same thing, really.”

Crossing his arms, his shoulders slumped in mock exasperation at her flirtatious jabs. Truly, he never tired of them, but he was nothing if not humble (even to a fault) sometimes.

“Connie, my dear, please…”

She threw her arms up and playfully fainted on the coach. She shook her head against the surface of a harlequin-printed pillow. “They’ll lock me up, I know it. My life is over. Over, I say!”

Ebenezer rolled his eyes at the adorably theatrical display. Constance was nothing if not a classic American lady, and as such, she could be a little more … outlandish than the typical English woman. Not that he minded this little cultural shift in mannerisms. Where she lifted, he grounded, and they made a nice match. Besides, her antics were amusing.

“I believe you need to be in the door frame for the rest of our enactment, dear,” he reminded her gently, pointing to the room’s open entryway. “That is, if you’re still interested.”

Constance let out a muffled squeal of excitement against the pillow before she bounced up and darted beneath the door frame. “Y-Yes, indeed! Um, here?”

“You tell me,” Ebenezer said, a soft kindness to his voice as he watched her. “I’m putty in your hands.”

He watched her as she experimentally leaned against the door frame, placing both hands behind her back and letting her spine unfurl against the polished wood. Once she caught him staring, the woman bit her lip playfully and gave her shoulders an extra push back. The effect caused her ample breasts to bob against the perilous restraint of her dress, its wetted sheen already doing wonders for highlighting the beautiful body beneath.

Once satisfied with her pose, she nodded and gave a welcoming sashay of her hips. “Okay, ready."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, sir.”

Scrooge hadn’t anticipated the effect the word ‘sir’ would have, but an alarming rush of blood to surge concurrently to his face and to anatomy below his beltline.

Clearing his throat, he walked toward her briskly. With his long legs, he was able to traverse the space between them in less than five steps. With each advance, Constance seemed to press her back further into the frame, but head tilting downward and smile widening in anticipation.

Once he was before her, the height difference between them became further magnified. Slowly, Ebenezer lifted his hand to her elbow. Not breaking contact for a second, his large hand skimmed the entire length of her arm before crossing over her freckled décolleté. Each brush of his fingertips along the sensitive skin left tingles in its wake, and she shivered inadvertently. Still, the magnetism between them pulled them closer, despite the anticipation making their movements slow and tentative.

With prolonged slowness and the utmost gentility, his hand continued its path north to the smooth column of her neck. Careful not to squeeze, his fingers had no issue wrapping the circumference, the warmth from his palm reinvigorating the pear and lily perfume she’d spritzed herself with in the morning.

“Like this?” he asked, his thumb skimming the edge of her jawline. By now, her head was angled up to meet his, her red lips parted slightly in anticipation of upcoming contact.

Constance averted her eyes shyly. “Y-Y…”

His other hand came up to clutch the dip in her waist.

“Look at me-” he commanded, voice breathy, “-when you answer.”

The sharp intake of breath that followed was nothing short of sensual.

He watched her carefully, watching the rise and fall of her chest to see the air slide in and out of her lungs. On the next inhale, he leaned in, using his hand to pull her body to his. Their bodies slotted together effortlessly, his lips covering hers in a rush of movement.

Their noses mashed together and their teeth clanged, but neither cared. As their lips met, Ebenezer’s deft fingers stroked up and down the column of her left, testing every inch of skin to make sure all the most sensitive swatches were paid proper worship. Constance moaned, tilting her head back and angling her jaw more to accommodate his skilled movements.

“Ebenezer—” she gasped, before her mouth was covered by his again. Her hands flew from their position behind her back and to his head, tangling fast in the slicked-back silver locks.

With her lips preoccupied, she could only moan when his other hand drifted from her waist and up to her chest. He gave one of her breasts an experimental squeeze, and chuckled when she arched her body in response.

“Mmm. Very good,” he purred softly.

His fingers walked upward to the low, scoop-shaped neckline of her dress. The buttons keeping the fabric clasped were small and delicate. Normally, such small clasps were infuriating to try to meticulously open cleanly when trying to undress her in a moment of passion. Somehow, he always ended up tugging one of the delicate prongs off, or unravelling a thread from pulling too hard (something she routinely teased him about). However, on this occasion, the smooth satin material that coated each little clasp made it almost concerningly easy for him to undo them. With a light pull on the fabric, the blue swath parted and revealed her ample cleavage.

One hand slipped beneath the top of her breastband to fully cup one of the soft mounds. She shuddered in delight, the press of her hips becoming more insistent against the growing bulge between his legs.

All it took was a few strokes of his thumb atop the swell to harden her nipple, causing the pebbled tip to press into the warmth of his palm.

The next time their lips parted, she was quick to untangle her hands from the back of his head. She moved them to the buttons of his waistcoat, then to the pearlescent buttons of his shirt.

“O-On the couch,” she said breathlessly, pushing the fabric to the floor. “Now, please.”

He gave a chuckle of triumph at her plea. He bent quickly at the waist to snake one arm beneath her knees and another securely about her waist. Even at his age, he was able to lift her as easily as if he’d been a man in his thirties or forties.

With a yelp of delight, she allowed herself to be whisked away by the dashing man. After kicking the door shut with his foot to avoid any unwelcome interruptions, he carried her bridal-style over to a moss-green chaise near the fireplace. There, he deposited her body gently, positioning her legs so they dangled over the edge of the cushioned arm.

She kicked them back and forth lightly, giggling as his hands went to her knees to massage them.

There, in that moment, he took a beat to admire her.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

The prone position made it easy for him to lean over her, eyes devouring the sight of her exposed breaths and flame-kissed face. Gods, she was angelic. There were goddesses rendered in marble less perfect than her, in his eyes.

“Ebenezer, I want you,” she pleaded, her voice soft. One of her hands came to her chest, manicured nails stimulating and teasing one of her nipples. The way his gaze burned into her so hungrily spurred her on, and she reached down to hike up her skirt, petticoats crinkling.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“I need you inside me,” she said, flailing behind her head for one of the accent pillows she knew was somewhere on the chaise. Once she found one, she tried to wiggle it under her hips. “Please?”

“Yes, yes,” he agreed, his own hand rushing to meet hers. Gods, she could have asked for anything in that moment, and he would have bent over backwards to give it to her.

He helped her secure the pillow snugly under her hips, making sure she was comfortable before proceeding.

“Is this alright, love?” he asked, stroking her face with the tenderness of glassblower handling their latest crystalline creation.

“Perfect,” she whispered eyes brightening at his tenderness. “Thank you for checking.”

As she tugged up the hem of her dress, he lifted one of her legs and dropped a kiss on her ankle. His mouth then worked it was up one of her legs. Along the way, scars and bruises from past abuse coiled around the appendages like ribbons. The raised marks ranged in color from deep purple to a light silvery sheen, similar to his hair. Each one marked where someone had tried to hurt her, but she had resisted and healed. For a long time, looking at the injuries made him feel anger or melancholy that she had suffered such brutality.

Yet, so long as the scars were on her body and a part of her, he wanted her to feel no ounce of shame about hiding them from him. So, he worshipped each inch of scar tissue with his mouth, reassuring her of her beauty with thousands of kisses.

“Mmm, Ebenezer…” she keened, turning her head to giggle against the fabric. “You’re teasing me!”

“Am I?” he asked cheekily, giving one of her thighs a squeeze.

“Y-Yes,” she admitted, “And you know it, you rake!”

Her free leg lifted to give him a teasing kick on the bum. He yelped in brief surprise before seizing the other ankle, releasing another peal of mirth from her lips.

“Hm, I wonder…” he mused aloud, his voice lowering to a seductive drawl. His hand inched up the side of her leg until he was close to the apex of her hip. “These interesting books you read. You seem to enjoy them.”

After giving the supple flesh a squeeze, he gave her a light spank, which pulled the most beautiful cry from her throat.

“Do you think of me when you read them?” he asked wickedly, smirking as her face lit up with renewed embarrassment.

“E-Ebenezer…” she moaned, tossing her head back in response to the pleasure pain. He could see her hips start to work forward toward his hips, guided by lust to seek friction.

Speaking of friction, his own cock was beginning to put painful strain on the seam of his trousers.

“Tell me,” Scrooge ordered, reaching down to undo his trousers. The relief was instant as he allowed his erection to arc proudly toward his lovely, the tip engorged reddish-purple with lust. His cock spring free from a thatch of salt-and-pepper curls that, on each down thrust, always scrubbed her clit perfectly.

“O-Of course I do…” she trailed off, a sheen of perspiration giving her an added aura of radiance. “I-I always think about you touching me in those ways."

He positioned himself between her perfect legs, hissing at the heat and moisture of her vulva. Even with just the tip of his arousal pushing against her, he was having a hard time keeping his thoughts collected. "You only 'think' about it, dear?"

"I-I try to use my own hands to touch myself, but it never feels as good as you. Never—ah—!”

At that moment, he bucked into her softly. He had only plunged an inch or so inside, but it was enough for him to bite his lip in a futile attempt to stifle a curse. Heavens, she made him feel like a inexperienced teenager, even now! He felt naïve, but also...youthful. Invigorated.

He'd intended to start slowly and then add length with following thrusts, slowly working up to her taking his entire length. Constance, however, didn’t fancy this approach. Once his engorged phallus slipped between her damp folds, she needed all of him.

One of her legs rose to wrap around his svelte waist and tug him closer, her heel urging him deep by nudging him at the base of his spine. Unable to resist, he succumbed to her command and sank into her to the hilt.

“B-Bloody hell, you are magnificent…” he stammered. His head hung between his shoulders as he stared down at her, hands moving to her wrists to pin her. “Incredible…”

Bodies fully connected, both took a moment to catch their breath, savoring the pressure and heat of the moment. He started a slow rhythm moments later, spurred by the eager shaking of her hips.

Her cheeks were red, and her brow furrowed in concentration as she drew back her hips for a moment before rolling them back into his pelvis. The surge of desire and pressure on her clitoral hood from his coarse hair loosed a deep sigh that bordered dangerously on a sob.

“So good…” she said, bracing her hands against the chaise as she increased her pace. Even though his hands were upon her wrists, keeping her safely grounded to the chaise as he picked up his pace, she still arced her bare breasts against his furred chest.

Gods, he adored how she clung to him. The feeling of her trembling thighs around his core and her trembling fingertips...if it could be bottled, he'd choose to remain intoxicated off it for the remained of his days, consequences be damned. Even after multiple coupling, he still swooned over how she loved to hold and cradle him as much as he did her. How when they were together, the passion she felt was so barely contained that, more often than not, they ripped seams in the bedsheets or knocked items off desks with the pace of their lovemaking.

As usual, her wish was his command.

“S-So...ah! Mmph! I…want more of you…”

He continued his pace, angling himself in a way that he knew her body responded favorably to. For better leverage, he pressed his face down and into the crook of her neck. With each thrust, he growled into her ear, the orgasmic tension mounting inside him. The pleasure tightened swiftly like a screw being twisted tighter and tighter, until he was ready to pop.

“You’re so perfect,” he husked, teeth scraping the flesh of her throat. “So fucking perfect.”

As his pace became frantic, he plunged deeper, the tip of his cock finally finding her cervix. Her response was immediate, the muscles in her stomach flexing as she pushed her hips as hard and fast into him as she could.

“Y-Yes, right there!” she begged, tossing her head back. Downy baby hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks as passion carved the most beautiful expression on her face. “Oh, please don’t stop—r-right there! Keep going!”

He adjusted his stance slightly, grinding his hips with piston-like precision at the same angle that had made her cry out. All the while, he watched her face and body for signs; his eyes fine-tuned to the telltale signals that she was close. He could feel his own orgasm approaching quickly, and if he kept up his current pace, he would shatter soon.

“C-Connie,” he pleaded breathlessly, reaching between her legs. Reaching under her skirts, he easily found the little nub of nerves he was looking for, so engorged with blood and lust that it was poking out past its hood that usually concealed it. With the pad of his thumb, he began working tight circled into the spot, moving his hips to match the ebb and flow.

“O-Oh my god,” she panted, flexing her wrists against his grip. “Ah, hah, I’m going to come soon. Oh, my god, Ebenezer, I going to…I'm already so...”

He nodded in agreement, feeling perspiration beginning to gather at his brow. “I know, dear. Come on, it’s okay. Come.”

The signs intensified. The fluttering of her knees as she struggled to keep her legs open, the way she began to breathe steadily through her nose, and the way her pupils began to blow out. He held her gaze, wanting to stare into her eyes when she unfurled from pleasure.

Then, with a rise of her chest and one last swirl of his skilled thumb, she was gone.

Constance yelled her lover’s name as her body convulsed and tightened around him like a hot fist. Her orgasm shook her in waves, rhythmically tightening and going lax in random spurts for almost half a minute. Right after she went over the edge, he was quick to follow, how own body tightening in one white-hot moment of pleasure pain.

He growled possessively against her as he finished, muttering her name and over as he ground into her. Ebenezer continued to thrust into her as long as he could through the orgasm until he could move no longer, his brain unable of responding to anything other than the primal urge to thoroughly seed the woman beneath him. Only then did he still, allowing himself to fill her completely while they rode out the rest of the blissful union together.

Their breaths came in pants, both hearts racing in tandem.

Even so, that didn’t stop her from opening her arms and inviting him to lay atop her.

Eventually, when he trusted his legs enough to move, he pulled out of her. Moving as steadily as he could on legs that felt more like they were made of licorice rather then bone, he climbed over the arm and joined her on the chaise. Flopping into the vacant space between her and the back of the piece, both chuckled as they wound their arms around each other and embraced.

A bath would be needed, and their clothes were far too sticky and sweat-slicked to wear for the remainder of the day. Of course, neither cared.

After a minute of basking in the afterglow and silken silence that encased them like a cocoon, Constance was the first to speak up.

“I’m dizzy,” she whispered, swaying against his chest with a light laugh. “W-Wow.”

“My, are you alright?” he asked, concern creeping into his voice as he held her. “Connie? Hey…Connie?”

“Fine,” she said quickly, holding up a reassuring hand. “Very, very fine. Just…wow.”

He heaved a sigh of relief, then reached over to push some hair back from her face.

“Well, did the scenario live up to your expectations?” Scrooge asked, eyeing her with a gaze that brimmed with adoration It was the only way he ever looked at her, but still, something about the way he gazed upon her in that moment sent an electrical current through her heart.

“Oh, very much so,” she said, snuggling into him as if he was the most comfortable bed in the world. “Exceeded them, in fact. I may never enjoy romance novels again!”

He chuckled and dropped a kiss on her taffy-colored head. “Well, I’m sure we can think of some…solutions.”

She giggled again, pressing her face to his bare chest, fingers toying idly with his chest hair. He blinked down at her, hands holding her as tightly as possible.

“May I say something silly?” she asked as she caught her breath.

“You haven’t met your silliness quota yet?” he asked cheekily. “Impressive.”

She smiled at his reciprocation, appreciating it. “You make my heart beat so fast that it makes my ribs feel soft. My entire chest feels watery when we’re close, and it’s…bizarre. Wonderfully Bizarre. I’m still getting used to it.”

All the breath left Ebenezer’s lungs in a low, awestruck sigh. “Connie…”

“I…love you very much, Ebenezer,” she said, eyes crinkling in the corners as she smiled. “More than anyone.”

She reached down just enough to grab his hand, then laced their fingers. “I…will never look upon my years with Orin happily. However, escaping him brought me here, to you. So, when I think of it like that, it makes everything feel a little better.”

He didn’t know what to say. All he could do was stare down into those blue eyes of hers, as clear and bright blue as a countryside lake.

“I…don’t know what to say,” he said, his voice as fragile as a bird’s wing. “Your words humble me. I am…undeserving of them, and of you.”

She shook her head.

“I’m afraid I must disagree.”

She reached up and cupped his strong chin, fingers ruffling his star-colored sideburns. Then, she dropped a kiss on the indent of his sharply caved cheekbone. Her lips were so raw from kissing that she didn’t leave so much as a smudge of her usual red lipstick behind.

“Thank you for making me feel so cherished and loved,” she whispered. “I promise to always try to bring the same joy to your life that you have brought to mine.”

Gods, he felt close to crying. Blinking back tears of happiness as best he could, he drew her close and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

“My love,” he whispered, cradling her close over his heart, right where she belonged. “You already have.”

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