#none of my ocs can be fixed. i apologize

[serxa]

SUN AND MOON — OC — TWELVE

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Apollo, purposely does a bad job on his sun taming so his beloved work colleague, Esther, would call him over to fix his job and spend time with her.

Pairing: OC!Esther x Apollo

Warnings: none

𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎, 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, usic and the Sun. A well known God that is now with the Olympians for his status. Never imagined that be would ever be attracted to someone almost so different in looks, characteristics, and abilities.

As Apollo was at Mount Olympus with his half brothers, Hermes suddenly swooped in with them, happily clapping his hand as he give Apollo a letter. "It's adressed to you, light." Hermes said, floating near Apollo. "From?" He asked, looking at the letter.

It was a Navy blue letter with a stamp that looked like a crescent moon. "Isn't the letter already enough details?" He grumbled, looking through the other mail and messages he needed to send to other mortals and God's. "Ah.." Apollo mumbled, before opening the letter to read what's inside.

'Adressed to the God of the Sun, Apollo'

'I'd like to inform you that the sun is too close to the moon. I saw it this late evening while I was guiding the celestial stars to not burn into one. It's dangerous to slack on your job, Apollo. Please fix this in an instant, our nights are days and our days are nights because of your accident.'

'Your regards, Esther'

Apollo immediately perked up and rushed to an open part of the mountain, and did in fact see that the moon was too visible during the day. "No wonder it's so bright when it's night." Hermes yawned as he read the letter while Apollo was staring at the sky.

He immediately yanked the latter away from Hermes' vision and glared at him. "Just, hold on." Apollo took flight and went to his temple, where he took his charriot that helped him steer the moon in its direction.

"Can I come with you in your adventure?" Hermes laughed as he watched Apollo preparing himself. "No." He flatly answered, and got on one of the horse's back. "Why? Because you don't want father to know you steer the sun close to the moon every month so you could go see her with a reason?" Hermes grinned, making Apollo give him another sharp glare.

"Oh shut up, Hermes." He started to make his horses move, and it flew up towards the sky and to the sun. Once he tamed and moved the sun, he looked around the vast dark blanket full of stars, and saw Esther, beautiful goddess of the moon, celestial guides and the stars, guiding the celestials to their places, fixing the constellations into their desired groups and shines the stars that were important for that decade.

"At least you finally did your job." Esther said as she fixed the moon halo on her head, floating towards Apollo and his charriot. "This is the 4th time, Apollo. Stop slacking." Esther crossed her arms. "I know, I apologize for the 4th time." Apollo clasped his hands together, smiling innocently at Esther.

"If this keeps happening, I might have to send you a letter just as a reminder to do your duties." Esther sighed. Apollo hummed. "I wouldn't mind that, moonlight." He reached over and took a hold of Esther's hair softly. The top part of her hair was as black as the blanket of the universe, and the bottom part, was shining silver and white just like the stars she guides.

Esther pulled Apollo's hand off her hair with a soft push, before turning her attention back to her scroll where it showed the stars that needed to be illuminated for later night. "Are you going to stay here once again?" Esther said softly, glancing at Apollo with his shiny blonde hair. "If you let me." Apollo gave her a small grin, making Esther chuckle.

"Sure, but let your horses rest first." I pet one of his horses that huffee against my hand as it closed it's eyes. "I will. But tell your wendigo's to stop eating my horses. It's hard reviving them, you know." He crossed his arms and Esther smirked, remembering the times him and Esther fought because her Wendigo's, the blood thirsty monsters she creates, killed one of his horses, twice.

"Fine, fine, I promise. I'll tame them better." She said softly. "And I'll put them all in my island. Zeus is not a fond of it walking around mount Olympus either." She sighed. "I wonder why." Apollo teased, making Esther glare at him. "I'm speaking the truth." He raised his hands in a mock defense. "They may be scary, but they have advantages of protecting the land, you know." She stated. "They're nice if you show them you're nice."

Apollo's horses suddenly started to doze off, making Apollo pull the reins to wake the up. "Alright, I'll bring these back and I'll come right back. Want me to bring my lyre?" He asked Esther, knowing she enjoyed working while he played his lyre. "Of course." She smiled, as she closed her scroll. "I'll be waiting."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Once Apollo was back up there with Esther, he floated around as he watched Esther fix the constellations, playing his lyre as he stared at her. "... You should have breaks too, you know, Moonlight." He strummed his lyre, creating a peaceful melody that Esther hummed with. "I know, but I just have to do this." She said, glancing over at Apollo.

Apollo smiled, his blonde hair shining gold in the dark vast of the universe, which her silver white hair did the same. "I invite you to my temple, you can come after if you want." Apollo stopped strumming his lyre, and Esther noticed a soft pink tint on his cheeks and ears.

"Of course, I'll come." She answered and fly turned towards Apollo. "Wait- really?" He blinked as he smiled like an idiot. "Yeah." Esther giggled at his reaction, looking at him like a thousand teasing sentences were overfillubg in her mouth, but she quickly swallowed them down, knowing Apollo having the temper of a small child, would immediately pout and be stubborn for a whole while.

"Uh- cool." He continued to play his lyre, humming with Esther as they harmonized with the melody. Apollo closed his eyes and sighed softly, letting Esther hum on her own. He opened one of his eyes to admire her glow and smiled like a baby with candy. Esther saw in the corner of her eye, and she turned towards him. He immediately looked away, playing off like he wasn't staring.

But Esther knew. She chuckled softly and closed her scroll, finally done with her duties. "Well, I need to rest. Let's go back to your temple, shall we?" She face him and Apollo stopped strumming once again. "Uh, yeah! Let's go." He smiled, practically buzzing with excitement.

When they were back in his temple, Apollo and her immediately crashed onto the bed, cuddling each other. "... Is this a normal thing 'friend's or 'work colleagues' do?" Apollo asked, looking up at the ceiling. "... I think not. Why, planning on putting a label?" She teased, making Apollo immediately scoff and turn pink.

He stumbled on his words and just shut up once he couldn't let out a simple sentence of denying it. "Oh yeah, it's definitely not normal." Hermes suddenly appeared with a small bowl of popcorn. The two sat up and Esther was enraged that Hermes saw how intimate they were. Esther and Apollo quickly sent a fire meteorite at him, and he quickly teleported away, without laughing loudly.

"Woah.." She murmured, realizing the fire meteorite they sent. She chuckled and looked at Apollo. "I was supposed to send a fireball." He said softly, holding on Esther's waist. "I was sending a meteorite right at him." She answered back. "... Never knew we could be a powerful duo." Apollo rested his head on her temples. She chuckled and hummed.

"Guess we're meant to be? Sun and moon." She murmured, attaching her lips onto his neck. "Sun and moon." He pulled her flushed against his side and laid back down, continuing to cuddle each other.

This was rotting in my notes, and since people like my Epic the musical work, I'll post it

[glitchy1938]

Vee Version 1 :

• She slightly grained feelings for you when you decided to show up every time in her game shows. ^^

• She pretends to hate you since it's embarrasses she a lot when others tease her.

• Call you "My virus", "Affectionate loving Devic" and "Loveable Deadly virus"~

• Either kisses you on your neck, cheek or knuckles. (Are you asking how the hell can a TV can kiss ?.... IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS !!)

• Give you all her merchandise (including a shirt she made with the help of Sofie "my OC")

• She love you a lot, tho, has trouble saying it since she might over heat ^^'

• She also take you sometimes to her gameshows for you to participate.

• She really HATE Dandy, and the feeling are reciprocal, but if he EVER start to yell at you or insult you.... Oooh boy~ she's not mad, SHE'S PISSED !!!

• She'll jump at him and start grabbing him by his petals and yelling at him to apologize to you, and if he refuse....

• hmm.... Let's just say that, Astro and Sprout would need to pull her away from him 'cuz, she's gonna beat the leaving-HELL ou of him...

• She'll never admit it but, she LOVE the sleepovers you AND the girls do, she'll just play cool

• Don't tell jer, but you and some of the girls found out that ehr screen can show what she's dreaming~ but it's SOO funny to watch !!

• Lien, one night, you came back with some snacks, and you saw the girls trying so much not tu laugh too loud, you ask them what's going on, and then, you saw on Vee's screen what she's dreaming...

• It's was her and Finn swimming under the water and her saying " YES I'M NOT SCARED OF WATER ANYMORE !!" it was o cute and funny !!

Glisten the mirror :

• How can I say... Congratulation with this diva !!!

• This man LOVED attention, it's not a secret, he genuinely enjoy if you are clingy. Not only does it inflate his ego to have someone devotedly following him, but it also secretly boost his Confidence -

• He'd admit his insecurities to you sometimes... Just like Rogue... But he's happy to have you by his side...

• no matter what Glisten need help with, you're constantly at his side- helping him fix his makeup, fetching anything he requests without hesitation, and action as his personal assistant

• He call you "Darling", "Princess" or even "Sugar" (it's sooo cute !!!)

• He love you so deeply that he constantly saying to other toons how awesome and great you are

• He parades you like a prized gem, strutting through Gardenview as if to show off your unwavering devotion. You're simply content knowing he's safe and by your side.

• If you have a nightmare, he's right next to you and comfort you, even when it's really late. He doesn't care if he have to stay up ALL night to comfort you, he love you

You were crying on his chest again... clinging up to him as if you let go, he would disappear... He keep running his hand through your back, he hate it when he see you crying or scared... "Sorry... I-I keep ruining your beauty sleep..." You say, trying to stop your tears, he gently caress you cheeks as he look at you softly. "I love you Darling, I don't care of anything else but you and your safety"

• He really love you to do your makeup, like if you need to look good for something special, then he'll gladly do it for you !!

[xenyasplacex]

Baby Trapped — Chapter 1

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!OC

Summary: Chris is in a toxic relationship and the only thing keeping him there is his daughter.

warning- Toxic relationship, Miserable Chris, Shouting, Abuse, Physical Abuse, Talk of miscarriage

A/N : This is so bad it’s concerning but oh well, i’ll fix it later. Enjoy xx

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Prologue <—> Chapter 2

It all started on a quite joyful note. Nate was in town visiting the triplets and they had gone to a bar the night before he left back to Boston

“Alright,” Nate said over the loud music to Chris, looking around before spotting someone.

“I bet you $40 you can’t pick her up.” He said turning to Chris. 

Matt who was next to the pair laughed while shaking his head. “Her? i’m surprised she even got in here. I’ll bet you $60”

The girl was tall, not taller than Chris but still fairly tall, She had almost perfect skin with curls falling on her shoulders beautifully. She was definitely Chris’ type however it was rare that you saw Chris hit on a girl and even more rare that he hit on a girl and succeeded.

Chris turned to face his brother astonished, “What? You don’t think i can do it?” 

“Girl your age, not staring at you like you’re  a dancing monkey, that pretty. Good luck buddy.” Nick interjected before taking a sip of his drink.

“You know what,” Chris started, quickly downing his drink and stand up, “I think i will got talk to her.” 

That night a slightly Tipsy Chris went to talk to a very pretty girl, a girl that he didn’t know was actually as safe as poison. That night marked that everything changed. From that exchange of phone numbers led to a toxic relationship, an unplanned pregnancy and a whole load of problems that none of the triplets had even thought could happen.

To be completely honest it had all happened at an unusually fast pace. Within 2 months of talking they were together, the honeymoon period lasted for about a month before the relationship started to turn ugly. What used to be simple taps turned into being hit with hard object which turned into being left on the floor, bruised and bloody. After about 6 months Chris had tried to break up with her but he couldn’t. She threatened to stop eating, to cut herself, to kill herself, and even the possibility of her going through with these things because of chris was enough to make him stay. When he tried to leave again she made the same threats but Chris stood up for himself and that’s when she told him she was pregnant. That night was still foggy for Chris but after a few too many drinks, a couple of kisses, apologies and a plane ticket to vegas later, Chris woke up hung over and married, and 10 months later his daughter, Adriana was born.

Adriana was the one thing that kept him going all these years, the idea that he finally had a daughter to love and care for, a daughter that was all his, a daughter that loved him as he loved her. His daughter. He didn’t want to leave Aaliyah because he knew if he did she could be taken from him and that made him stay. It made him put up a fight. It made him strong.

It started when they came back from tour. Late. 

“Daddy!” Adriana cried out as Chris fell to the floor, Aaliyah stood over him.

“You were supposed to be back at 3 o’clock Christopher, 3!” She screamed adding more punched to his face.

It was currently 6. In all honestly, Chris had just come back from tour and their flight home had simply been delayed. However, in Aaliyah’s eyes Chris staying out late just meant that he was cheating and she couldn’t stand for him cheating. 

“Daddy!” Adriana cried again this time leaving her safe spot behind the door frame and coming to try and stop her mother. That had never happened before. Usually when Aaliyah went crazy on Chris she was like hide under her bed in her room and wait for Chris to come and and rock her to sleep saying everything was fine however this time things were different, Aaliyah was hitting harder and faster. Adriana has to protect her dad the way he protects her. It was only fair.

“Adrian get back!” Chris yelled as he watched his daughter toddle over to her mother. It was only when his wife’s elbow connected with his daughter’s nose that Chris fought back. He quickly grabbed Aaliyah by her arms and pushed her off him. Hard. Hard enough to knock her into a shelf that was near them and had some of the books fall on her.

In that moment Chris quickly got up, ignoring the immense pain he felt. He quickly picked his daughter up and ran downstairs to her room before locking them both in it. At that point Adriana was still crying saying her face hurt and Chris was trying to pack a bag of everything she needed. Her clothes, her night time dipears, her kindergarten uniform and her favourite stuffed animal, Jeff the 

giraffe. As he started shoving everything in a bag he heard Aaliyah starting to move so he quickly put his shoes on, put adrian’s shoes in his bag, picked her up and ran for the door before quickly putting her in her car seat and driving away from the house.

Chris was speeding, running red lights, cutting people off and breaking almost every rule of driving to get them away from the house but at that point he didn’t even care about himself, he needed to get Adriana out if there. After a while Chris finally parked his car at a Mcdonald’s around 20 minutes from his brother’s house. If she went straight there she would find him. He finally turned to his daughter who was still breathing heavily from how she had been crying. 

“Oh baby,” Chris said softly as he got out of the car and went over to the back of the car to pick her up and hug her tight. Adriana started crying into Chris’ shoulder again, gripping his hoodie tightly. Chris simply rocked her, humming soothing tunes and playing with her hair, the same things he used to do whenever Aaliyah would be destroying things around the house and so Adriana couldn’t sleep. Eventually, she stopped crying and was simply sniffling. 

“I’m sorry Adi I’m really sorry. I love you so much i’m sorry you saw that. How’s your nose huh?”

“Better”

“I’m sure it is you brave brave girl.” Chris said ticking her side finally making her giggle. “There we go, you’re laughing now.” He said happily before kissing her cheek. “Let’s get something to eat okay?”

“Chris?” Matt spoke through the phone gently, “Where are you?”

“I’m at Mcdonald’s, the one near your house,” Chris replied rubbing the exhaustion of his eyes. They had been at that mcdonald’s for no around 5 hours now and the realisation from what had haken had started to kick in. Now Adriana was asleep in her car seat and Chris was trying to stop his hands from shaking.

“Chris!” Nick yelled faintly before grabbing the phone from Matt. “Chris Aaliyah was just here, she’s left now but she was screaming that you left and she was going to go to the cops.” No. This couldn’t be happening. He only touched her to protect his child. If she went to the cops would they even believe him?

“Chris? Chris come here okay. Look Matts phone is about to die and i can’t find mine just come here and we’ll sort everything out okay? come here and we ca-“ Was the last thing Chris heard before thephone went dead.

Chris considered his options. He could go back and beg Aaliyah not to call the cops or he could go to his brothers house and keep him and his daughter safe.

“Adi’s asleep, she went out like a light.” Matt laughed quietly before joining his brothers on the couch.

“Chris, i know you don’t want to but you have to tell us what happened.” Nick explained as Chris rolled his eyes and got up from the couch.

“Nothing happed Nick, she’s just mourning that’s all.”

“Oh my gosh Chris I am so tired of you using that tired excuse every time she messes up. I understand losing a child can be hard.” Nick yelled before Chris cut him up.

“Shut up Nick, just shut up!”

“But if she’s doing something to you that’s so bad that you had to take your living child and run then you have to do something about it. Chris what if you need a lawyer?”

“Shut up, i said shut up!” Chris screamed, grabbing Nick by his collar.

“Wow wow Chris chill out, he’s just trying to help you.” Matt shouted trying to get in between the two. 

“Yeah well your help isn’t needed,” Chris said much quieter now letting go of Nicks collar, “my wife is mourning our child okay? And so am I.” Chris said sincerely before waking upstairs to find his daughter.

He didn’t mean to lash out at his brother, but it’s hard to do so when someone is in your head like that. Chris may not be sure if he truly did love Aaliyah but she was the mother of his only child and that was enough to make him protect her, even if it meant killing himself inside in the process.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep near his daughter, all he knew was the next morning he woke up to Aaliyah rubbing his back telling him to wake up so they could go home.

Caught. They were caught.

“Common babe, you go have breakfast with you brothers downstairs i’ll go get Adi ready okay?” She asked lovingly before pressing a soft kiss to his check and lips. 

Yes, the same woman who had been beating on him yesterday was know kissing him like nothing had happened. She was mean and manipulated by she was a pretty damn good actor.

Chris riddled downstairs where he heard Matt and Nick gossiping.

“He was about to sucker punch me in the mouth!”

“Nick, you said his wife should get over their dead son. I would’ve done the same.”

“I didn’t say it like that.”

“I’m sorry okay?” Chris said in the door frame causing his other triplet brothers to turn their heads and look at him. “I was in a bad room. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.”

“I’m sorry for what I said, but Chris, if she is doing something to you, you have to tell us. We can help you but we can only do that if you let us in. Please?” Nick begged.

Does he tell them what’s going on? Does he try to explain to them that they can’t let him leave with her. He has to. He has to save his child from her. From what she could do to her. Not only that but he had to save himself. He had to save himself from the pain this whole relationship had caused, he had to save himself from all the suffe-

“You ready to go babe.” Aaliyah whispered as she turned the corner, a sleeping child resting on her chest and her baby bag in another hand. 

“Yeah, yeah i am.” Chris stated quietly, watching as his brothers shoulders dropped and he looked down in defeat.

Chris quickly brought his brothers into a hug and whispered a quick ‘Thanks’ to them before the small family left the house. It was only when they got in the car the Aaliyah facade dropped and she turned to Chris with a serious face.

“Christopher, the next time you run of with my daughter after laying hand on me, i promise you i will go straight to the police, and take you to the cleaners. Are we clear?” She asked.

 Chris didn’t say anything, to shocked at her change in tone.

“I said are we clear?” She asked again, this time with our agitation in her voice. 

“Yes, we’re clear.” He replied quietly before staring the engine and pulling out the driveway.

That was his life, a woman who treated him horribly but who he still stayed with, because he had a child to protect, and if that meant protecting her mother as well then so be it.

Hehehe, Luv ya ~ Xenya

Chapter 2

[swimmingtimemachinephantom]

Hello, this is Gin, As in NewGin, I need to talk about what I’ve done in the Pizza tower community...

I’ve been far too parasocial, far too clingy, to the point of crossing boundaries and making others uncomfortable. I’ve never made an apology like this before; I’ll be honest about everything. I can only explain what was going through my head at that time, but none of it is a justification, it never will be, and I can only work on it to prevent all of this from happening again.

My previous account was deleted out of guilt and panic, and I kept checking others accounts then in late March, only to see what those who blocked said about me, I wanted to know what I was doing wrong then, but it only crossed boundaries again. And it led to further spiraling until someone sat down and spoke to me, I was too upset to think, I hurt so many fans in the community, and I wanted to fix things fast then than give it more thought and time. I was too impulsive and panicked, and it only made things worse.

For the last several months, I’ve been talking and thinking about what happened with professionals. The majority concluded That there was no malice involved, but I suffered from “dependency disorder”, a disorder in which you constantly rely on others for assurance or fear of being alone. And I was afraid of being alone more than anything. This has gone undiagnosed for years, and considered to have maladaptive skills. I’m currently still in group therapy to practice better boundaries, learning how to manage stress, anxiety and panic. Better coping skills I never bothered to learn out of fear of change. I never wanted anyone to be emotionally hurt, I constantly fear accidentally hurting people because of my social skills, I’m aware how damn oblivious I am, and it hurts how so much of this could have been avoided if I bothered to learn healthier skills sooner, it’s my fault everyone is hurt, It’s my fault I’m like this. No one else is at fault.

I kept breaking boundaries in thoughts of “maybe like this its ok?, maybe this can be an exception if I can make it work like this?” And other times it is just barging in freaking out without considering the person’s feelings. None of what I did was healthy for those involved.

I’m horrified with how many I’ve hurt, I gave so much trouble to everyone, I’m sorry for putting so much pressure on you when I struggled with communicating to others, I’m sorry for coming into your dms when I was panicking, and used you as a therapist, a sort of security blanket. I’m sorry, I took so long to get help. I thought that after getting advice, I would instantly know not to make that mistake again, but I’ve should have taken time to sit down and think about it more than panicking to fix things or avoid my own uncomfortable thoughts. I’m so sorry I put you through so much crap instead of looking to a therapist, you told me multiple times to take it to them, but I feared so much they wouldn’t understand, I…I never bothered trying out of fear and ended up hurting you more. I kept crossing your boundaries when you were so patient with me, and I took it for granted rather than getting proper help. I’m still getting help, and its been a good progress but I still need more to do with the program. I understand if you don’t forgive after my behavior. I hope you’re doing alright. And I hope the future is kind to you.

I’m sorry Dingle, for getting you involved. I’m sorry for putting gore in your fic, I didn’t think at the time it would hurt, because to me, it was mild...but it still hurt you. I really did think at the time that peppino sacrificing his own chance at a cure to cure his adopted kid ( dingles oc) while getting himself injured showcased how peppino is willing to go through hell to help his kid. a character going through hell but having a happy ending, but in my excitement, I didn't realize how hurtful it was to write such angst of their comfort character without their permission. I’m sorry I vented my fears to you.  I really shouldn’t have interacted with them as nervous and panicky as I was, I shouldn’t have said “oh your uncomfortable? Maybe I’ll cancel the fic then :(“ though that wasn’t meant to be guilt tripping but me being sad because I liked the concept, but I said it guilt trippy. I shouldn’t have interacted with my self-esteem and emotional instability. It got them hurt, confused, and traumatized. I never wanted them hurt or feel used. I thought I was being a friend with sharing small vents. But I should have stepped away. They probably wouldn’t be as hurt today. And it wasn’t exclusive to them, my instability and low self-esteem made others “emotional care givers” I’m sorry I went in others dms and get others involved, adults and teens alike in my nervous breakdowns, and constantly seeking validation. I honestly thought it was normal to share distress to a certain extent with people you knew, but I was too over trusting, and it put pressure on the same people I looked up to. I was maladaptive.

I’m also sorry for sharing private conversations with others in forms of text or screenshots, the intent, in my perspective then, was to avoid misunderstandings, as I felt I poorly explained things or poorly understood what the messages were saying due to be aware of my own autism, a part of that reassurance aspect handled in the worst way. It made people instead feel they were only getting side of the issue, not to mention a breach of trust and privacy as they did not consent to these. This was not the correct way for me to handle those situations at all, and I will never do it again, I’m sorry.

I never wanted drama, slander or harm. I just wanted to be a part of the Pizza Tower community, I saw people sharing art and making art for others in the PT community, and I thought, hey I like their characters and ocs and art. Maybe I can write for them, I can’t draw so why not write for them. I want to do nice things for others fans, make friends with people share my creations and make people come together and be happy.  I wanted fans to get along with each other, I wanted to bring everyone closer together as a fandom, I wanted to be part of it.  But all I ended up doing was being parasocial and clingy and hurt everyone, I just wanted to make friends, I just wanted everyone happy. And I was stupid about it.

 I thought I was making friends by writing those fics, but despite truly liking those ocs , and respecting those artists, was more of a seal of friendship than building a natural friendship. What I thought was a kind gesture was crossing a boundary. And it put those creators in uncomfortable positions. Not on

This fandom made me so happy that whenever I saw someone lose interest or leave, I felt scared I would lose that happiness. It’s also why I reacted to people leaving Rads server. I also tried to make sure people got along and felt scared when people fought or were angry with each other and would share it with those who knew another, out of fear of people breaking apart. To keep the peace, I didn’t want people to misunderstand each other because I knew how scary that feeling was. And I saw myself in turn, being so intent to be happy and checking on people if they were ok, as annoying.  None of this is an excuse, I got too invasive and involved. In wanting to make friends and felt liked and belonging as well, I got too nervous that I was stressing people out and panicked, asking if I was annoying them. And yet I kept doing it just to be liked and validated. Because I feared being disliked and alone more than anything in the world, and developed unhealthy coping habits I feared to stop, afraid to develop healthy ones only fearing “what if the healthy ones won’t work? The current one can’t be hurting anyone.” They did, and it snowballed to what lead up to this.

I was selfish in trying to avoid paranoia and keep myself happy without taking another’s feelings into consideration. I will no longer be doing such and will keep it completely between my therapists. And the reason I didn’t before, is I feared they wouldn’t understand fandom or my fears well.

I kept wanting others happiness but also my own, and it conflicted with each other, and I got selfish. Sometimes you have got to sacrifice your own happiness to make others happy, but I wanted both. And it made me controlling just to have both.

It’s been scary writing this all out, I have autism, anxiety disorder, but its not an excuse. I can’t undo what I did, I wish I could, knowing how many people I hurt, But I can move forward with healthier skills I’ve gained and learned from Group therapy and the therapist. Though I tend to fear the unknown when it comes to the future. I won’t be doing what I did before for certain. After all what happened, I understand if you guys don’t want to forgive me, I still can’t forgive myself. But I never want to hurt anyone like that again. I want to be a better person.

I don’t know what to do from here, I'm still in group therapy for healthier skills so I can be a better person and never do this again. I don’t know if I’ll come back here. I understand if I’m wanted gone. I can only say sorry so many times. But I hope everyone can be at peace.

[evans23]

RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 19 - A HELPING HAND [C2]

Pairing : Elliott Marston x OC

Summary : Can Elliott be forgiven ?

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Arranged marriage. Some rude words. Racism. Racism towards aborigines. Tell me if I forgot anything.

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

The cold, calculated words hurt you more than any pain. You stood there in front of him, your eyes expressing a pain you couldn't verbalize while Elliott, for the first time in a long time, was destabilized.

"I don't understand why you're so angry. I didn't send it," he tried to defend himself clumsily.

"BASTARD !" you yelled, throwing the letter at his feet.

"I... Please, [Y/N], I didn't send it! I meant to, but I got to know you and I... I was going to destroy that letter."

"You're just a bastard, greedy, greedy! I thought, I really thought that under your faults there was a heart, hope for you, but there is none. You used me, the friendship and respect that my uncle has for you. You think you're a man with your weapons, your wealth and your lands, but all that is worthless if your heart is prisoner of your wickedness."

Elliott tried to apologize again, but you turned away in the face of his empty words, leaving him alone with his guilt.

You locked yourself in your room, going around in circles. You didn't know if it was better to run away or wait for your uncle. But where would you go anyway, here in the middle of nowhere?

The safest choice was to wait. Your uncle wouldn't abandon you, you were sure of it.

For his part, Elliott, alone with himself, felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: regret. And for the first time, he began to doubt the man he had become.

"You weren't supposed to see it."

"I didn't send it !"

"You don't let me explain it to you, [Y/N]..."

All those sentences that Elliott had said to you and that were now going round in circles in your head. Just words. Just wind.

That was all he knew how to do, say nice words, play with people to get what he wanted. He had hurt you by betraying you. A pain increased tenfold by the fact that you had started to have feelings for him.

You had decided to keep your interactions with him to a minimum, which meant pretending he didn't exist, which was somewhat complicated since you lived in his house.

Whenever Elliott tried to talk to you, you remained cold, avoiding answering when you could. The rest of the time, you were locked in your room, reading or getting bored.

Elliott's workers didn't know what the nature of your relationship was between him and you, but what he did know was that he had become unbearable. Your argument had shaken him and he didn't know how to regain your trust.

"[Y/N], please," he stopped you as he passed you in the hallway that led to the kitchen where you hoped to be able to get something to eat before he returned.

"No."

"Please, I know I hurt you, but... let me fix this, let me...

"Elliott, please," you said like a plea, "I just want to be alone."

He didn't insist, much to your relief, but also to your annoyance, although you couldn't explain all the conflicting emotions you were feeling.

But maybe the fact that every morning you found a hot cup of tea on your doorstep, or that little gifts were left on your dresser like that pastel-colored scarf that had mysteriously appeared in your room after Elliott visited town contributed to all this confusion. Except that it was too easy. He couldn't make up for it with little intentions and gifts, not after betraying you like he had.

Ruminating, you walked to the porch to look at the starry sky. It was then that a deep voice made you jump.

"It's beautiful, all this quiet, isn't it ?"

You turned around, your hand on your heart, to see Elliott sitting in the darkness, watching you.

"The quiet scares me sometimes. I don't like to be alone with my thoughts."

"Why ?"

"Because sometimes, they torture me."

Elliott nodded without saying anything and a quiet silence settled between you until he decided to break it again.

"I'm not good at apologizing. But I'm sincerely sorry for that letter."

He didn't say anything more and you didn't speak either, but you stayed close to him until he declared that it was time for him to go to bed.

This situation that wavered between coldness and a moment of complicity lasted another three long weeks, when finally, your beloved uncle returned. Except he didn't bring the news you were hoping for.

"Your father is determined, [Y/N]. I offered him a fortune, but he won't hear of it. He says that at your age, you should already be married and a mother, that it's high time."

"Uncle !" you exclaimed, horrified.

"Don't worry, we'll find a solution. I have friends in the United Kingdom, they can welcome you."

"But by the time they get your letter, it'll be too late. My father will come here with my fiancé and... the trap will close without me being able to do anything about it and after that, I'll be confined to my house for the rest of my life for daring to run away," you said, feeling panic invade your entire being.

"You could just run away," Elliott said, who had been listening without saying anything until now.

"To where ?" you asked, not even trying to hold back the tears that burned in your eyes any longer.

"Anywhere. Your uncle could give you money and you could go anywhere you want. To America. You could start a new life, with a new identity if you wanted."

The idea was tempting, but also frightening. You had few resources on your own and life was not kind to women, you were well aware of that.

"Men are going to come looking for you, [Y/N]," your uncle said, "you have to decide what you want to do, but quickly."

"I... I'm going to run away. Get everything organized, uncle, I'll take the boat to America."

You were devastated, but this was your best chance to escape this arranged marriage and you knew it.

Everything was planned. Your uncle had given you a considerable sum of money to start a new life and Elliott would drive you to the city so that you could take the boat. She had hesitated to tell her uncle that she did not want to be escorted by Elliott, but that would have forced him to reveal the tradition of the man who was trying so hard to redeem himself. She also could not deny the fatigue that marked her uncle's features. He would not have the strength to drive her to the port.

"Why did you offer yourself ?" you asked Elliott one afternoon when he was tending to a young injured colt.

"Because you would never survive alone in this desert."

"What if it was a trap ?"

"[Y/N], trust me, I wouldn't have waited this long if I really wanted to trade you for money. You'd already be married by now. But... that's not what I want."

He was about to say something else, but he stopped himself. The intensity of his gaze made you shiver and deep down, you wanted to believe him.

"I'm not sure I can forgive you," you whispered.

"Give me a chance," he said in a breath.

He straightened up to tower over you and slowly advanced towards you.

"Why ?"

He brought his face close to yours, so close that you could feel his hooked nose caressing your face.

"Elliott?" you asked in a whisper.

Slowly, as if to give you time to pull back, to refuse him if you wanted, he moved a little closer until his lips were on yours.

"That's why," he said as he straightened up.

You watched him walk away to go back to tending to the foal, your troubled mind and heart ready to explode making you doubt your choice.

That's when you knew what you had to do.

"Elliott," you called out to him.

"He turned to you, a questioning eyebrow raised.

"I... I'm not sure I want to run away anymore," you confessed.

"Then don't!" he replied firmly.

He reached you in two strides and his rough hands captured your face.

"There's another option, [Y/N]. You could marry me. Your father won't be able to do anything, it would be legal and he wouldn't be able to force you to go back there anymore."

"Marry you ? I.."

"I wouldn't force you to do anything. After the wedding I mean. I would wait as long as you want. But you'd be safe, you'd have a roof over your head, food on the table and everything you need."

"Elliott..."

"Say yes."

"We barely know each other," you pointed out.

"We've lived together for two months, that's enough for me to already know what I like about you and what I can't stand. I hate it when you're right and prove me wrong, I don't like your cooking and you sometimes snore at night."

"I don't snore!" you exclaimed in outrage.

"Oh yes, you do," he said with a laugh, "almost every night."

"Rubbish !"

"I assure you, a charming little sound. I don't understand how the dingoes still dare to come near with all the noise you make."

You punched him on the shoulder, which made him laugh harder.

"I don't like your arrogance, the way you think you're superior to others, and I don't like the way you treat the aborigines.

Elliott sighed.

"I can... improve. If you help me," he said with a glint of vulnerability that threw you off.

"What do you expect in return ? My father won't give you a cent."

"I don't need your father's money, I have enough already."

You looked down, torn between your distrust and your desire to believe him.

"[Y/N], I'll protect you. I'm not an easy man, but I'll never force you to do anything. Not something you don't want. You can give your opinion, challenge me, be yourself. I might not be able to offer you the luxury and opulence you grew up in, but I can offer you a good life."

"What if we weren't meant to be together ?"

"What if we were meant to be together? What if I could give you what you need, and you what I need?"

"Elliott, we're so different..." you said, biting your lower lip.

You weren't sure. Sure, you knew what you felt, but how could you know if it wasn't just passing?

And you were as different as the moon and the sun. He was so dark, manipulative, proud, where you were nothing but vulnerability, shyness, and light.

"That's right, we complete each other. I'll teach you to be stronger and you'll teach me to be better."

He moved closer, his gaze searching yours.

"I'm scared, Elliott," you said, unable to tear your gaze away from his.

"With me, you'll never have a reason to be afraid again."

Your uncle, although surprised, immediately gave his blessing and with the help of the local pastor, you and Elliott were married in the small chapel in town. A prostitute who served as company for Elliott's men had managed to find you a pretty dress and despite your doubts, you were radiant. Deep down, you felt that you had made the right decision.

And when your father arrived with your fiancé and two of his men, it was your husband who greeted them with his gun... and all his men ready to defend the new Mrs. Marston.

"MARRIED !" yelled your father, "how dare you dishonour me like that? You little slut! You're not worthy of my name."

"That's good because she's mine now," Elliott replied with a predatory grin.

When Armand tried to attack him, Elliott made him back off with a bullet fired near his foot.

"It's going like it's for nothing," Elliott said, twirling his pistol between his expert fingers, "one more step and the next one could well be for your heart."

"She's mine," Armand yelled.

"She's never been anyone's and now she's my wife. I don't know how it works in your big coastal cities, but here, no one ever gets in my way, not even the army. So go back to your pretty houses and drink your tea and do your hair. [Y/N] chose a man, a real one."

Armand was so angry he was almost turning purple. Your father didn't say anything to him, but you could see the disappointment etched on his features.

"Keep her, Marston. I deserve much better than that little slut who gave herself to the first guy she met."

This time, Elliott's shot grazed his ear, causing a little blood to run down his face.

"Don't ever insult my wife again ! And now, off my land !"

Elliott whistled and several of his men stepped forward to chase Armand away. Your father approached you under the cautious gaze of your husband who was still holding his gun in his hands.

"Are you sure, [Y/N] ?"

"It's too late, father, I'm already married to Elliott."

"[Y/N], I won't make you believe that I'm not disappointed, because I am terribly. But if one day you want to come home, my door will always be open to you."

You smiled shyly, recognizing your father there.

"Thank you, father. But I love Elliott. I'm going to be happy here."

"I wish you that, my girl."

He kissed you on the forehead before turning to go back to Sidney, leaving you now alone, here, in the middle of the arid lands, with your husband.

"Do you love me ?" Elliott asked, holding his hat with one hand to keep it from flying away.

"Maybe. But just a little," you answered with a mischievous glint in your eye.

He burst out laughing before taking you in his arms to give you a passionate kiss.

"And here I was, thinking that I would never deserve a second chance. But here you are, in my arms."

"In your bed," you added, kissing him on the nose.

Elliott's smile widened, and with a smooth gesture, he lifted you up to take you to his room. Your room. It was high time, after this helping hand, to consummate the marriage.

[saiilorstars]

Curing the Brokenhearted

Bucky Barnes x ofc || One Shot Masterlist 

Summary: Bucky can't stand seeing Chloe through another break-up and decides to fix things for her. He does everything except telling her the truth about his own feelings.

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​ ​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​​​ @gloryekaterina​​ @lenonizi​ @averyhotchner​​ @foxesandmagic @kmc1989 @caplanbuckybarnes​​​​​​​​​​​​

• Chloe’s Masterlist •​​

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

Chloe was a terrible mess. She was a loud, sobbing mess. It was embarrassing and everyone in the compound could hear her. Later in the future, she would be absolutely mortified by this moment but for now, she didn't have a head for anything else. Her best friend Seren was doing everything she could to console her. She had boxes of tissue at the hand, her best comforting words and hugs available. As the hours ticked by, the tissues ultimately ran out, much like Chloe and her tears.

"I'm gonna get you something to eat," Seren decided, though Chloe explicitly declared she didn't have an appetite for anything. "You gotta eat something. It's not good for you!"

"What's not good for me is to keep trying at this relationship stuff," huffed Chloe. She grabbed one of the last tissues to blow her nose. "Look at how they all end? I can handle being stood up, being dumped, but to be cheated on? What is that?"

"It's awful," agreed Seren, "but he does not deserve any of your tears."

"This is what I get for lying to myself," Chloe muttered, tossing the used tissue to the floor. "For thinking that I could…that I could love someone else…"

"Oh, Chloe, don't do that to yourself," Seren said, trying to fix some of Chloe's hair away from her face. "This is definitely not the moment to think about that."

"I think it's the perfect moment considering this is my umpteenth failed relationship," Chloe retorted bitterly. "I'm tired of it, Seren."

Seren knew that she was. It couldn't be easy trying to hide your real feelings. "I'm going to get you something to eat," she insisted. "Don't move."

Chloe scoffed. "Not like I'm presentable enough to go anywhere but the four walls of my bedroom."

Seren left the room with the promise that she would come back with something that would make Chloe want to eat. On her way back with a dinner tray in her hands, she came across Bucky in the hallway. He seemed to be lingering close to the lounge room where Chloe was (hopefully) waiting.

"What's going on?" he asked Seren, his face filled with nothing but concern. "Why's Chloe so upset?"

Seren sighed and answered in a quiet voice. "Chloe went to see her boyfriend this morning."

Immediately, Bucky rolled his eyes. "That guy…"

"Yeah, 'that guy,'" Seren mimicked his tone, "wasn't exactly alone when Chloe surprised him in his apartment."

Bucky blinked with surprise. "Excuse me?" His eyes settled on the ginger in front of him. "What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean, Barnes," Seren said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

It was no secret to anyone that Bucky hated just about anyone who dared to date Chloe. It was also no secret to anyone why he hated them. It was an endless cycle; Chloe found someone new to date, Bucky would hate them, the relationship ended (sometimes good, sometimes bad), and then it would start all over again. However, none of these relationships' endings ever made Chloe this upset.

"What the hell did he do to her?" came the sharp demand from Bucky.

"Turns out you were actually right about this one," shrugged Seren. "He's an ass. He cheated on Chloe, what else? She went to surprise him this morning and she had a key to the apartment. He was busy. Got it now?"

Bucky's jaw clenched. "Got it," he muttered.

"He didn't even have the decency to apologize."

"He didn't?"

"No, but really what guy ever does? Poor Chloe, she's taking it really hard. It's definitely brought her confidence down."

"Where does this guy fucking live again?"

"Oh, I'm not gonna do that," Seren shook her head and went around Bucky to continue her way to Chloe. "You'll go over there, make a bigger mess, possibly murder the guy and then Chloe will cry all over again."

"You think she'd cry over him again?"

It was the way the stupid question was asked that made Seren spin around, nearly spilling Chloe's dinner. "Are you that dense? Why would she cry over someone she doesn't love?"

Bucky straightened up and stared at her. "She's crying right now…"

"And you think it's all gotta do with him?"

Bucky understood the question, but he didn't dare to answer. Answering it would mean nitpicking until the truth came out and to admit the truth out loud...well, he didn't want to cause a bigger mess.

Sensing his inner turmoil, Seren walked up to him and pushed the dinner tray into his arms. "You really want to help her? Get her to eat, and then get her to rest. I hate the guy as much as you do right now so let's make sure she gets over this fiasco already. While she's not crying about him, he still humiliated her in the worst way possible. Neither you nor I will stand for that. Do you understand?"

There was nothing else to say after that. Bucky gripped the sides of the tray and made his way towards the room.

When he entered, he found Chloe sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her hair disheveled, gaze downcast until she heard him.

"Okay, I'm ready to be embarrassed now," she mumbled and began wiping some of the tears off her face. Her confidence took another dive when she started taking count of all the tissues she had around her.

"Hey Chlo, how you feeling?" Bucky gently spoke to her and approached her slowly.

She gave him a weak shrug. "I'm sure Seren told you about my…lovely morning…"

"She, um, she told me…" Bucky took a seat next to her on the couch, setting the tray on the table in front of them.

Chloe's shoulders slumped down as a sigh left her lips. "I don't understand. If he didn't want to be with me anymore, why didn't he just tell me?"

"Because he's a coward," Bucky didn't hesitate to say. "Because he's not a real man. A real man would say what he wants or doesn't want."

And yet as he spoke these words, Bucky felt like he himself was nowhere near a real man too. He loved Chloe, he had for a long time now, and he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he resorted to watching her go out with other men. It didn't matter if they treated her nice and made her happy, he despised them all. They got to do the things he would love to have with Chloe.

"I just don't understand!" Chloe's exclaim brought Bucky back to the present. "I don't think — I don't think I deserve this."

"No, you don't," Bucky agreed with her. "You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be with someone who can give you everything you want in life."

"Hm," Chloe smiled for the first time that day, "I fear nobody really gets me like you do, Bucky."

He half smiled at her. She looked so pretty when she smiled, how could any man want to take it away? Before his thoughts really got away from him, Bucky asked her — pleaded with her — to have some dinner.

"I'm not that hungry," she insisted.

"Please, for me?" Bucky held out the plate to her, putting his best smile to encourage her.

Little did he know, Chloe had given into his request because of his oh-so charming eyes. The way he looked at her when he was trying to persuade her to do something never failed, he just never realized it.

"Okay," she mumbled and took the plate from him.

Bucky made sure she ate everything, down to the vegetables she didn't like all that much. Chloe cursed him and his beautiful eyes.

"Can I interest you in a nice rest this evening?" he asked after he'd taken the dinner tray from her.

"You don't have to be that nice to me, Bucky," Chloe said with a sigh. "You don't have to walk on eggshells around me either."

"And you don't have to pretend like everything is okay," Bucky countered smoothly, but very quickly panicked when her gaze fell.

"I guess I really do look that awful then," she said miserably. She rubbed her cheeks as if there were still tears lingering there, then retried fixing her hair a bit.

"No, no, hey," Bucky reached for her hand tugging at her hair, "That's not it at all. Hey…" He gently squeezed her hand in his. "That's not it. I just think you should rest, you know? Don't give that guy another thought."

"It's harder than you think," Chloe admitted. "It's awful — knowing that someone cheated on you. It's like…it's like you weren't good enough…it's even worse knowing that I didn't even…"

But she stopped herself there. There was no reason to overshare with Bucky about how she didn't even love the guy; that she only went out with him in an effort to suppress her actual feelings for someone else…

"It's nothing but humiliating," she whispered, lowering her head. "He didn't even try to deny it. Kind of made it my fault, you know? Why was I in his apartment? Why didn't I treat him better?"

Bucky's blood boiled with anger. "He said that?"

"Said, shouted, it's all a blur," Chloe shrugged. "I mean…I know I'm not the best but…he could have just broken up. I didn't deserve that moment…"

"You didn't," Bucky said sternly. He stood up and without a warning, he pulled Chloe up as well.

"What are you—!?" she yelped as his arm swung behind her and she was picked up. "Bucky!? What are you doing!?"

"You're sleeping!" he declared. He held her bridal-style and walked to her bedroom with zero regrets.

Chloe knew better than to try and fight her way out of his arms. His strength was unmatched. And maybe…she didn't really want to fight anyways.

He brought her into her room and put her down on the bed.

"Can you stay for another moment?" She asked him as he backtracked from the bed.

Bucky had not been expecting the request and it showed. "Uh, are you sure?"

"I fear what my thoughts might turn into if I'm alone again," she admitted. "You know what they say…sometimes you are your worst enemy…"

Boy, did Bucky know that. He ultimately agreed and with her guidance (and more reassurance), he climbed into the bed with her until they were laying side by side.

"How pathetic," Chloe mumbled, then turned her head towards Bucky, "Isn't it Friday night?"

"Yup…" Bucky said, turning his head towards her.

A large smile spread across her face. "And we're here…so we're both pathetic?"

"I don't want to kick you when you're already down but—"

Chloe laughed and turned her head away. Sometimes, his blunt sass was the best medicine for her struggles.

"You should rest, Chlo. I'll come back and check in on you later."

"No!" Chloe had stopped him before he even moved a muscle. "I'm — you think you could stay for just another moment? I-I just need…someone here…" Had she been braver, she would have said he was the one she needed. "Unless…it's Friday night…" she closed her eyes and smiled, feeling very dumb for a second, "You have places you want to be at…of course…"

"No, no, no, what are you talking about?" Bucky touched her cheek before he thought of it. "I don't have anywhere else to be except here, I promise."

"Are you sure? Weren't you making plans with Sam or something to go out? I heard something about some dates…" She lied. She heard exactly about the dates. It had only been a few times that Bucky had been seeing some girl — Sam's friend or whatever — and while the girl was absolutely great, Chloe was not happy about it. It was actually right around the time she started going out with this guy…

"Nah," Bucky said without hesitation. "I didn't have any plans."

"Really?" Chloe couldn't ignore the little flutter in her heart at the news.

"Really," Bucky promised her again. "I'll be right here for you, it's okay."

"Thank you," Chloe said genuinely, then scooted closer to him. She appreciated him more than he knew. "Do you think I'm an idiot for not seeing the signs sooner?"

"What are you talking about, Chlo? Him cheating on you is not your fault." Bucky feared he would have to repeat that line at least another ten times before Chloe's hard head finally understood.

For now, she would be self-doubting until she fell asleep. It only infuriated Bucky more.

~0~

Seren was clearing up the kitchen when she saw Bucky striding past the doorway, and right behind him went Steve. She dropped everything and ran after them. "Hey!" she stopped them in the hallway. "How was Chloe? Did she—?"

"She's asleep," Bucky answered hastily, looking the part as well. "We gotta go."

"Go?" Seren scrunched her nose. "Where? It's like 10 o'clock in the night. What, a boy's night?" She was smiling jokingly until she saw the look on Steve's face, and the ire-filled one on Bucky. "What is going on? Where are you going?"

"Just out," said Bucky, shrugging.

"Where?"

"For a drink, what else, Seren?" Bucky said, clearly annoyed she was holding them up.

Seren's eyebrows couldn't go up any higher. "You guys know I'm not buying this for a second, right?" She looked more specifically at Steve. "Don't let him do anything stupid."

Steve gave her a mock salute. "I'll try my best." But he truly couldn't do anything except just go along with Bucky's idea, no matter how crazy it was. It was definitely some sort of payback for everything he put Bucky through back in the 40s.

Bucky had found the address of Chloe's ex with JARVIS' help and had the wonderful idea to pay him a visit. Steve's intervention only allowed for Bucky to just knock on the front door rather than destroy it. In five seconds flat, Bucky had slammed the guy face-first against the wall, hands pinned behind his back.

"Argh! What the hell!?" No matter how many times he fought, Bucky's grip wouldn't budge.

"Let's talk about your to-do list for tomorrow," Bucky said very matter-of-factly. "You're going to call Chloe tomorrow morning and apologize for being a complete ass."

"The hell I will!" snarled the guy until Bucky gripped one of his wrists so tight that he broke a bone. "AGH!"

"Bucky," Steve began to try and intervene again, "maybe you shouldn't—"

"Stay out of it, Steve," warned Bucky. He tilted his head at the guy. "So then — you'll call tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, yes, fine!"

"And you'll apologize—"

"Yes!"

"—and you'll send her a little gift—

"What!?"

Bucky twisted the man's already broken wrist and elicited quite a scream from him. Steve winced behind them but didn't try stopping Bucky anymore.

"A gift to apologize," Bucky reiterated loudly and slowly as if he were talking to a child. "Do you understand?"

"YES!" cried the guy.

"Good," Bucky grinned rather maniacally, "and don't you dare step foot anywhere near Chloe. You call and send the gift. And it better be good or I'll be back."

As soon as Bucky released him, the guy spun around and clutched his broken wrist.

"You're crazy!"

"I'm worse than that," Bucky promised him. "So you should try and follow along before I'm back without him," he made a gesture towards Steve. "Got it?"

As soon as he got the 'yes', Bucky was out of there.

"You don't think you overdid it a bit?" Steve asked him on their way out.

"What do you mean? I didn't even kill the guy," Bucky muttered. "She'll never hear a word about this, right?"

Steve bobbed his head, a smile coming to his face. "Yeah, Chloe's not the one I'm worried about."

~0~

Seren brought Chloe a nice breakfast in the morning and used it as an excuse to see how she was doing today.

"I haven't cried, I swear," Chloe said, eyeing the meal prepared for her. "I think I'm all done, you know? No more tears in these eyes."

"That's good…I think…" Seren said slowly, "But, really, you shouldn't be crying for that guy. He's not worth a single tear."

Chloe nodded fervently. She had told herself that all night. "Yeah, I know. It's just the…the shock, you know? I've had bad relationships before but no one's ever humiliated me like that. Like, I know it's my fault—"

"It's not your fault," Seren said flatly.

"No, no, listen," Chloe motioned for her to wait, "I'm not — I understand that, I do. But let's face it, you know my secret. You know that I never even really liked him in the first place…"

Seren sighed, but agreed.

"So…I really could have avoided all this if I hadn't gone out with him…"

"Well, I hope this is your wake-up call," Seren said, reaching for the fork next to the plate. "Get yourself ready, and just go talk to—"

Chloe's cell phone went off at that moment. She reached over for the night stand and picked it up, answering without checking to see who it was.

"Hello?" she took the fork from Seren.

"Chloe, I'm sorry."

Chloe dropped her fork on the meal tray. Seren raised an eyebrow at her.

"What are you doing?" Chloe frowned. "Calling me like this? What? You think I'm going to forgive you?"

"No! I — I'm just calling to say sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I-I shouldn't have—"

"Cheated? Well duh. That should have been obvious," Chloe rolled her eyes.

"Chloe listen to me, please, just…just know that I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Chloe detected something off with his voice, but before she could ask about it, he hung up. "Huh…that was strange…"

"My thoughts exactly," Seren said. She had picked up Chloe's fork and eaten some of the food.

Chloe was thoughtful for a long moment.

"You okay?" Seren asked after a while.

"Yeah…I…I think I am…" Slowly, Chloe reached over and took her fork back. "I mean… I didn't really need this apology…"

"Yeah, you did," Seren nodded, "because you deserve that and more. Eat."

~0~

It was noon when Seren found Steve and Bucky in the training room sparring together.

"Who's winning?" she called, letting them know of her presence.

"I am!" They each said then shot each other the same looks.

Seren laughed lightly.

Steve gave up the sparring and went to Seren to greet her with a hug and a kiss. "Where've you been?"

"Just looking after Chloe," she said, then looked over at Bucky. He'd gone towards the weaponry for a change of training.

"How is she doing?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, you know, better than yesterday." Seren cleared her throat before speaking again. "Funny thing, we were having a little chat in the morning having a chat and she got an interesting call." She felt the lightest little move of Steve's hand on her back.

"She did?" Bucky turned around with a staff in his hand.

"Yeah, apparently, her cheating ex-boyfriend had a change of heart this morning…"

"He did?"

"Mhm," nodded Seren, looking up at Steve innocently, "He called to apologize to Chloe, can you believe that?"

"That's…that's great," Steve smiled, as did Seren.

"Yeah," she agreed with a light chuckle before meeting Bucky's gaze, "Who would have thought, right? I mean yesterday he was the world's biggest jerk and now today he grew a conscience? If only all guys were like that…the world would be a much better place."

"It would," Bucky agreed, walking over to them. "Good for Chloe."

"Mhm…" Seren made a point to look between the two men for a dramatic minute. "You guys understand that I'm not buying this, right? Like not even close."

Steve snuck a glance at Bucky with a 'what do we do now?' look.

Bucky remained absolutely cool. "I don't understand."

Steve almost punched him on the spot.

Seren's face fell flat. "You know, being an ass to the best friend of the girl you're in love with isn't really the way to her heart."

"I didn't do anything, Seren. If the guy grew a conscience, who cares. It's the least Chloe deserved, right?"

"Right," agreed Seren casually, "oh, and by the way, next time you guys want to lie with a shred of credibility, you might want to go with a better line. It's hard to believe you went out for drinks when neither of you" — she looked between them again — "can get drunk. You guys are shitty liars."

"She used bad language," Bucky pointed at Steve, the latter rolling his eyes.

"He likes it," said Seren nonchalantly. "But my point stands."

"I didn't do anything," Bucky insisted. Not even Steve was willing to continue with the lie.

"Buck, c'mon…"

"This was dropped off," Seren declared and pulled a small box from her jacket's inside pocket. "For Chloe…so strange, right?"

"I don't know how you take her stupid smirk," Bucky muttered to Steve.

"I think she's trying to make a point," he told Bucky.

"I am," confirmed Seren with a fervent nod. "What I'm trying to say is, instead of going behind Chloe's back to do all these things for her, why don't you just face her and tell her the truth? That you love her. That you don't want anyone to hurt her the way that this guy" — she made a gesture to the present in her hands — "did. I think that's good, right honey?" She gave a light whack on Steve's arm.

"Perfect, actually," he agreed.

Seren pushed the present into Bucky's hands. "Don't think Chloe's going to want this, by the way."

"That wasn't the idea," Bucky said, earning identical smiles from the pair. He rolled his eyes at them. "You guys are annoying, you know that?"

"We think we're alright," Steve shrugged, and Seren chuckled as Bucky took off.

~0~

Chloe was humming a little tune under her breath while she finished the last bit of her make-up in front of her mirror. Her spirits were a lot better than yesterday, and she even felt a little motivated to go outside. Someone knocked on her door and she shouted that it was unlocked. If she moved now, her eyeliner would be ruined. From the corner of her eye, she saw the door open and Bucky standing on the other side.

"Hey sergeant," she greeted politely, "what's up?"

"Uuh, things…" Bucky replied slowly, gazing at her fondly. She looked a lot better than last night. "What are…what are you up to over there?"

Chloe smiled at her reflection. "Well, not that you needed to know but I got up and I felt like showering, taking care of myself, you know?"

"I can see…does that mean you're feeling better then?"

"Yup!" Chloe popped the 'p' in her answer and turned around with a dazzling smile that soon became a confused one. "What are those?"

Bucky was holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands. "Oh, you know…" he cleared his throat, his miserable attempt at being casual was actually killing him on the inside, "I thought…maybe, uh…you'd like 'em?"

Chloe's smile returned, although the confusion did not waver. "Seriously?" Bucky nodded, clearing his throat again. "I mean…they're beautiful, Bucky. I can smell them from here!" She also wondered if he could hear how fast her heart was going right now. That's embarrassing. "What's the occasion?"

"You," Bucky said without skipping a beat. He saw a faint blush across Chloe's face in the next second and relaxed.

"Me?" Chloe pointed at herself.

"Yeah," Bucky looked her over once, and then twice. She was in a very pretty dress and the light make up on her face was perfection. She was perfection. "With you, there's always an occasion for flowers, don't you think?"

"Well, if my confidence was off the charts, sure…" Chloe chuckled nervously, "Is this your way of cheering me up from last night?"

"Before I answer, how are you doing, Chloe? Really?"

Chloe's eyebrows raised at the question. "Interestingly enough, I do feel better. Honest. I, um, I got a call from him, actually."

"Oh, really?" Bucky feigned surprise.

"Mhm," nodded Chloe, "He apologized, can you believe it?"

Bucky raised his eyebrows as he fully committed to the role of someone in the dark. "Wow, no, uh…I'd never expect him to do that."

"Yeah…" Chloe crossed her arms, her lips spreading into a very, very wide smile.

It took Bucky a moment to realize she was staring at him with purpose. "What?"

"You know that I know you're lying through your teeth, right?" Chloe tilted her head at him, waiting for him to unravel from his obvious lie.

"Wh-what!? Why would — what are you talking about, Chlo?" As much as his best friend loved Seren, he was going to kill her for telling Chloe everything.

"James," Chloe's gaze sharpened, "if you know what's good for you, don't make me government name you right now."

"Government name me?" Bucky laughed nervously. "What's that even mean?"

"Cut the bullshit! I know you had something to do with that call!" Chloe inched towards him and pointed with a sharp finger at him. "You can be the honest sergeant I know you are and just own up to it. I think…it was pretty sweet of you."

Bucky stopped completely. "Really?"

Chloe chuckled at him. He looked adorable (well, more than usual anyways). "Mhm…so…if it was you…"

"No, it was," Bucky said instantly, eliciting another laugh from Chloe. Bucky exhaled deeply and apologized for his interference. "I just couldn't take what he did and the fact that he blamed you for it? He's lucky I didn't punch him with this," he raised his vibranium hand.

"Yeah, it'd be hard to thank you if you were in prison," Chloe remarked then went back to smiling. "Thank you, if it wasn't obvious. You know you didn't have to do any of that for me, right?"

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it doesn't mean I shouldn't have. Nobody should have the right to hurt you. How did you know it was me? Did Seren tell you?"

"No," Chloe shook her head, "Although I'm very shocked that she let you interfere with this."

"Oh no, she didn't. I'm actually very annoyed with her for trying to stop me in the first place."

Chloe laughed lightly.

"C'mon, tell me how you knew!"

"It was just obvious," Chloe shrugged. "He would've never called me and the only way he ever would is if someone made him do it. Seren wouldn't do something like that and I just know you can be scary on purpose."

"Smart girl," said Bucky proudly. "So what if I told you that I also made him buy you something?"

"What?" laughed Chloe again, and even more when she saw him pull out a small black box. "Oh my God, you didn't!"

"I did," nodded Bucky. "Think it's a necklace or something." He opened the box for her to see and sure enough, tucked inside was a simple but nice necklace.

"Ha, you're unbelievable!" Chloe exclaimed.

"So, what do you want to do with it?"

"Honestly?" Chloe set her flowers on her dresser and took the jewelry box into her hands. "I want to return it for store credit and get myself something I actually want."

Bucky smirked. "Now how did I know you were going to do that in the end?"

Chloe raised an eyebrow at him. He was too good. "Because you know I can be diabolical?"

"You can be many things but 'diabolical' is definitely not one of them."

"Watch me make the exchange and then get back to me!" Chloe snapped shut the jewelry box and set it on her dresser next to her flowers. She looked at them both; the lengths that Bucky went to make these things happen to her made her very special. How could she not? Would he do that for someone else?

"…are you still seeing that girl?" the question slipped through her lips. It was probably more prudent as an inside thought but it was out there now and she couldn't take it back.

"What?" Bucky looked at her oddly when she turned to face him.

"Sam…he paired you up with one of his friends, I heard it," Chloe said so that he wouldn't try to deny it. "Are you going out with her? I know you went on dates with her…"

"Ah, Chloe, we don't have to talk about it—"

"No, we do! We-we really do because…it's important…" Chloe looked visibly nervous now, bringing Bucky to full attention. "Please, are you still seeing her?"

"No," Bucky replied without having to think about it. Truth is he had left that nonsense very early on because there just wasn't any point to it. "I didn't like her…"

"Me neither," Chloe said automatically and it made Bucky chuckle. She flushed and stuttered as she tried fixing her words. She didn't mean for it to come out like that. In reality, there was nothing wrong with the girl���except for the fact she was (at the time) dating Bucky. "I'm sorry, I — she was a very nice girl. Unlike me, apparently…"

Bucky continued to laugh and stepped closer to her. "Nah, I think you're funny…"

She scoffed. "Don't you think I've been humiliated enough already?"

"This is different."

"Oh?" Chloe's face was in a full scowl until Bucky touched her cheek and suddenly she was nervous all over again. "H-how's it different?" Her voice was feeble.

"It's funny watching you trip over the same words I wanted to ask you every single time you went out with those idiots in the past," Bucky said. He was actually very impressed with himself that he'd gotten all his words out in one go without sounding as nervous as he truly was.

"Excuse me?" Chloe's eyebrows furrowed together.

Bucky let out a deep exhale. "I should have said it sooner and I'm sorry that I didn't. When I said that a real man always says what he wants, I clearly wasn't talking about myself. I never told you that the only thing I wanted was you."

Many things ran through Chloe's head but for some reason the biggest urge she had at the moment was to smack him. "…you are so incredibly stupid, James."

"O-kay…definitely not the reaction I was going for…" Bucky cleared his throat and pulled his hand off her cheek. In retrospect, he probably deserved it.

"If you had told me before, we would've been on hundreds of dates already and—" she jabbed her finger on his shoulder, "—I wouldn't have gone through this hellhole of a breakup."

"What!?"

"Okay, that last one was more on me than you but my point stands!"

"Chloe," Bucky looked at her sharply, "what are you talking about?"

"You really never saw how much I liked you?" Chloe asked him with disbelief. "Seren told me I was so obvious!"

"I just thought…I mean…you know…I have a lot of baggage," Bucky said, lifting his vibranium arm to make his point.

"And I don't? We're screwed up, yeah in different ways, but still screwed up nonetheless."

"You are not," Bucky flashed her a warm smile, "You're so unbelievingly perfect."

Even though Chloe scoffed, there was a bright red blush on her face a second later. She glanced at her dresser and eyed the jewelry box again. "I've got an idea…" She picked up the box and looked at Bucky with a wide grin on her face. "Why don't we go pawn this thing and go out somewhere?" Bucky chuckled at her and for a moment, she thought he was laughing at the idea. "It's crazy, isn't it?"

"It's…diabolical…" He mimicked her and reached out to her, gently pulling her to him. "I love it."

"Yeah?" Chloe said, unable to focus completely when she could feel his arms wrapping around her waist. She swallowed hard as he neared her face to where their noses bumped with each other.

"Yeah, let this date be on that guy — it's about the only good use he's going to have…"

Chloe nodded slowly. She was transfixed with him and his touch. If she tilted her head just the right angle, she could kiss him. And why can't you? He just told you he likes you and you're going out tonight.

She tossed the jewelry box to the side and closed the little gap between them. Kissing Bucky was the perfect medicine to cure all her pain. His arms were already around her waist and little by little split so that one roamed her back and the other subtly traveled down her side.

"What do you say?" Bucky murmured against her lips, pressing a kiss between his questions. "Want to go out tonight?" He felt Chloe's smile against him.

"Absolutely…"

But for the moment, she was much more interested in finishing what they had started.

[charmandabear]

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Leather and Lace

Summary

Lady Estelle wasn't expecting to fall for her tailor, of all people. But with everything under her control during the day, she's more than content to cede control to him at night.

Pairing: Astarion/F!OC Rating: E Word Count: 5.7k Tags/Warnings: unprotected sex, orgasm denial, safeword discussion, light bondage, d/s dynamic, p in v sex, vampire sex, biting, vampire bites, blood drinking, sexual tension, casual classism, AU, (sorta, you can make an argument), praise kink

Read on AO3

Something in me turned feral when I saw Hamrikaa's tailor!Astarion art and I needed to get this out of my system. It doesn't help that I work with costumes irl and I suddenly got a lot of opinions about Astarion and sewing.

I have more thoughts on this relationship, particularly with the class difference and power dynamics. I also really want a story with a plus size protag since I'm really tired of feeling like the implication is that all Tavs/OCs are the type 1 body. So let me know if that's something that appeals to you, or if you're interested in a longer version with more than just sexual tension and smut, lol.

Fucking Arfur.

It’s sundown on a Saturday and Lady Estelle Rosewinter is traipsing through the Lower City looking for a tailor. Arfur Gregorio had shown up to her masquerade several hours early already intoxicated. While trying to shoo him off the grounds, he had stepped on her gown, ripping the seam of the thigh high slit to a nearly obscene height. Now, as guests are beginning to arrive, she isn’t there to greet them and is rather passing shop after shop putting up their closing signs. 

She could have just chosen a different gown as her handmaiden Celia had suggested, except that it took her so long to get into the damn thing. She thought that getting it fixed would take but a minute. It did not occur to her that, given the hour, finding an available tailor would prove so difficult.

Estelle is about to give up when she sees a dim little shop out of the corner of her eye. It’s not on the main drag, but rather up a quiet alleyway. But there’s no mistaking the sign.

Threads of Starlight

The door to the shop is clearly open, so she rushes in, desperate to speak with the proprietor.

“My apologies, I know you’re probably about to close, but I have an emergency, and I promise that I’ll pay handsomely for the inconvenience–” she cuts herself off as the tailor walks out from the back. He’s so much more attractive than she would’ve expected from someone of his station. His clothes are humble but understandably incredibly well-fitting, his trousers gently hugging his lean legs and the sleeves of his light linen top rolled up above his elbows, revealing pale, slender forearms. His silvery hair looks windswept and effortless, although Estelle knows it takes a practiced hand to get one’s hair just right like that. There’s a measuring tape slung around his neck and he looks briefly startled by her appearance before a practiced charm takes over.

“No need for apologies, Lady…” he leaves a gap in his speech for her to tell him her name. His voice is melodic.

“Estelle. Lady Estelle.” She tries to match his honeyed tone but her mouth has suddenly gone dry. He takes her hand and gently presses his lips to her knuckles.

“Lady Estelle. The pleasure is all mine,” he coos and a shiver goes up her spine. What on earth would a tailor need with this much charisma? Without letting go of her hand, he gracefully leads her up onto the fitting stand in the middle of the shop. She has danced with the finest nobility in Baldur’s Gate, and none of them were even half this elegant.

“Now please, tell me what I can do for you. I hope there’s nothing wrong with this beautiful gown of yours. Is it one of Galwen’s?” The way he looks at her makes her feel exposed, almost naked, despite the conversation literally being about her clothes. She clears her throat in an attempt to regain some composure.

“Yes, I’ve been going to her for years, but she’s tragically unavailable this evening.” Not that Estelle didn’t try. She sent three messengers and finally went to Galwen’s door herself, but she refused to open back up. Pity, since it looks like she’s lost Estelle’s business for good, especially if this one turns out to be as good as he looks. And gods does he look good.

“All the more fortunate for me that I stay open late,” he says in a low tone, and gooseflesh breaks out over Estelle’s arms. “Now, tell me darling,” he coughs at letting the casual pet name slip out, “pardon me, my Lady, how can I be your gown’s savior this evening?” Estelle hadn’t heard the rest of his sentence because her ears started ringing at the “darling.” Normally she would not take too kindly to someone in the working class speaking so informally to her. She’s beginning to feel lightheaded. Has she been hexed? Does this happen to any who cross his threshold?

“It’s torn,” she says in an uncharacteristically small voice. “Right here.” She lifts her skirt at the thigh slit, threads popping out of the seam. In an instant the tailor is on one knee, examining it closely. With him suddenly this close, all of her symptoms dissipate and are replaced by just one: desire.

She tries to shake herself out of it. Not only would anything of the sort be wildly inappropriate - given her status in Baldur’s Gate, an affair with a lowly tailor would be splashed all over Baldur’s Mouth within hours - this man is a consummate professional, and she’s certain that he would never return her affections. He must look beneath dozens of hems a day, this is nothing out of the ordinary for him. 

He touches the fabric as he studies it, cool fingers lightly grazing Estelle’s skin. She gasps at the sensation, and he looks up at her sheepishly.

“I’m terribly sorry, I have poor circulation. My touch is always something nasty, I’m afraid.” Estelle shakes her head and finds anywhere to look but into those piercing red eyes. 

“It’s fine, really. I have an important evening planned, so I’m a bit jumpy,” she lies through her teeth. He steps away to pick up a needle and thread from behind the counter. While his back is turned, Estelle takes the time alone to wipe sweat off her brow. This man is making her burn up inside and out.

“Oh really?” he sings as he’s back down on his knees, dangerously close to her upper thigh once again. “And pray forgive me, but I must reach up slightly in order to make this repair, if that’s alright. I promise, I’ll be the picture of a gentleman.” He looks up at her, waiting for her consent before touching her further. Estelle, worried what might come out if she opened her mouth, just nods. 

He slides his hand between the fabric and her leg, pulling it out slightly so he can tuck his needle into the underside of the seam. Estelle bites down on her tongue to keep from moaning. She knows that she’s touch-starved, it’s been far too long since anyone has warmed her bedsheets. Between running a household, meeting with politicians and nobility alike, and her position in the Baldur’s Gate arts council, she hardly has the time. But this is ridiculous. A gentle caress from a man should not elicit this much heat between her thighs, and yet here she is, keeping them pressed together tight, the slight pressure her only relief. 

His fingers move deftly, pulling the needle through the fabric with ease. He’s focusing on his work so intently, and Estelle watches him almost like he’s a dream. He begins tying off the thread, and before he’s complete, his eyes flick upward to meet Estelle’s.

“All finis-” he begins, but Estelle is so startled by the intensity of his gaze that she jumps, causing him to prick his finger with the needle. A tiny droplet of blood lands on the pale pink silk. The tailor jumps back, horrified, and immediately starts apologizing profusely.

“Oh gods, Lady Estelle, I’m so terribly sorry, look at what a clumsy little fool I am, gods on such a beautiful dress, too,” his words tumble out of him, all composure that was once there, now gone. She’s finding this flustered side of him possibly even more appealing than the cool and collected version. Her lady-of-the-house instincts kick in, and she addresses him like a new maid who has accidentally broken china while transporting it to the kitchen. 

“Darling,” she breathes and lifts his chin with a finger. She can finally look into those crimson eyes, feeling herself regain the poise she’s accustomed to. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a speck.” She swears she can hear his breath catch, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking because he recovers quickly.

“Perhaps, but I still feel terrible. This mend is on the house, as well as any alteration you might need done on another garment. And, ah. How to say this.” He looks flushed again, despite the paleness of his skin. “There is a foolproof way of getting one’s blood out of fabric, but it’s not the most, er, refined shall I say.” This piques Estelle’s intrigue.

“Really? And what way is that?”

The tailor shifts nervously, and she positively relishes in the trade in demeanors. 

“This only works if it’s the one the blood belongs to, but if you can catch it straight away, then, erm, saliva will do the trick,” he says with a chagrined smile. Whatever Estelle was expecting, this is not it. 

“Oh,” she responds, and suddenly she’s back to that lightheaded feeling. What is he proposing exactly? Whatever it may be, she’s certain it will involve his mouth in some way and she’s not sure how she’ll handle that.

“The next five alterations are free, I’m so very sorry, this is very uncommon while working on a garment. At least, I’m usually better at catching myself,” he adds with embarrassment. 

“Uh, yes, whatever- whatever needs to be done. Thank you.” She peers down at him, willing herself to find somewhere else to look but unable to tear her eyes away. He pops a thin, pale finger in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. She swallows loudly as he takes his finger out and dabs it on the slit of her dress, still achingly close to her thigh. He rubs at the spot, but evidently it’s not enough, because he then brings his lips to her dress and lightly rubs his tongue on the silk. 

“Oh gods,” she can’t keep this moan from escaping her lips. If he can hear her, he doesn’t respond, blessedly. He pulls away from her, silver hair ever so slightly disheveled, and rubs at the spot with a handkerchief to dry it.

“Apologies again, my Lady,” he says with a frown, examining the spot for any remaining blood. Then he stands and they’re face to face, the few inches of pedestal putting their eyes at the same height. “I hope this doesn’t make you think any less of my skills as a tailor.” She briefly wonders what other skills he might possess before banishing the thought from her head. 

“Not at all, er,” she falters, realizing she never asked his name, which is unlike her, she usually tries to learn the names of all of the people she contracts to work for her.

“Astarion,” he says with a bow.

“Astarion, yes,” she repeats breathlessly. “Well, Astarion, you came to my aid in a time of desperation, and I suppose there was a blood price to be paid.” He lets out a startled laugh, clearly not expecting her to make such a joke.

“That’s very clever, Lady Estelle,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “You were a pleasure to have on my fitting platform, I do hope to see you again soon. At least to make up for my absolute buffoonery.” He’s back to the confidently poised man who first greeted her when she entered the shop, and he plants another light kiss on the back of her hand. 

“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine,” Estelle murmurs, almost hoping that he doesn’t hear her. “Oh, and Astarion?”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“Please. Call me Stella.

***

Several tenday have passed since Stella’s first meeting with Astarion, and she had visited his shop nearly every evening. It didn’t take long for her to admit her feelings; she couldn’t hide them even if she wanted to. Even when Astarion confessed his status as a vampire spawn, she wasn’t deterred. If anything, it aroused her all the more. Something happens to Astarion when he drinks her blood. The humble and subservient tailor disappears, and in his place is a self-assured and dominant man. Stella is more than happy to relinquish control over to him. She’s responsible for so much during the day, making decisions, telling people what to do, so there’s an appeal to having someone else take that role for once. 

The moment she walks into the shop she’s met with the graceful gentleman. No matter how many times she sees him, that wicked smile sets a small ember in her belly that quickly spreads. Each point of contact lights on fire despite his chilled skin. A spark in her fingers as he pulls her forward, a flame on her cheek as he strokes it gently. In an instant he shuts the door and flips around the open sign. With the darkened windows and the door now closed, they’re plunged into semi-darkness and Stella feels a chill go up her spine.

Astarion wastes no time in pushing her against the door and kissing her deeply. He presses his body up against hers and she gasps into his kiss as he pulls her in closer by her waist. He slides his knee between her legs and she lets out a whimper. Astarion chuckles in her ear.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he coos, lifting her slightly with his knee putting a delicious pressure on her mound. She clutches the back of his neck and hair, wrapping her leg around him to get even closer. He hikes up her skirt to her waist and scoops her up so both of her legs grip his midsection. Keeping his lips locked on hers as she continues to devour him, he carries her through the shop and to one of the adjacent rooms where there’s a bed and two untouched glasses of wine sitting on a side table. The tailor’s quarters. 

He throws her down on the bed and she looks up at him, cheeks and lips flushed, eyes glowing. Her typically neatly coiffed hair is mussed and strands splay out beneath her head like a halo. Astarion straddles her waist, pinning her in place, as he strokes her face.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes, looking down at her with heavy lidded eyes. She grabs his shirt and pulls him in close.

“You know what I want,” she smirks, gaze flickering between his eyes and lips. He laces his fingers through her tousled hair and gently grazes his fangs over her neck, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“And you know I like to hear it,” he murmurs into her neck, and another full-body shiver goes through Stella. His breath feels chilling against her warm neck, blood pumping eagerly through her arteries. She grabs his face and forces him to look her in the eye – the last bit of control she has before she cedes it completely.

“Astarion,” she says slowly, measured and teasing, “I would enjoy it very much if you bit my neck, drank my blood, and then had your fucking way with me.” He chuckles darkly.

“Well,” he grins, a mischievous glint in his eye, “since you asked so nicely.” Stella lets out a moan as his fangs sink into her skin, the piercing pain soon giving way to a throbbing ache. His lips close around the wound, drinking in her delicious warmth, leaving her feeling blissfully lightheaded. She hums with pleasure as she curls her fingers into his silvery locks, hips unconsciously rolling into his, hungry for more contact. She can feel him growing stronger as her blood flows into him, his thighs tightly gripping her hips, keeping her locked into place. 

Astarion pulls away from her before going too far and Stella lets out a small whine at the loss of contact. He’s out of breath, chest heaving as he licks the last of her blood from his lips. He presses two fingers to the wound on her neck to stanch the bleeding as she looks up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. Once he can feel that the blood is no longer flowing freely, he takes his fingers away and hovers them centimeters above Stella’s lips.

“Open,” he commands, and she dutifully obeys. She takes his fingers into her mouth and sucks on them lasciviously, the metallic taste of her own blood filling her mouth. It’s one thing to prick her finger and to suck on it to make the bleeding stop. It’s quite another to lap her blood of Astarion’s fingers, languishing in the vulgarity of the taboo. She yearns to hear his breath hitch as she works her tongue over their length. 

He slides his fingers out of her mouth and grabs her chin, reversing the roles from moments before. He examines her face, turning it this way and that, like he’s inspecting a prized golden retriever at a dog show. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he lets out in a low tone. “Trapped underneath me, open and wanton, ready to let me do whatever I want with you. To you,” he adds on with an impish grin, and Stella squirms with anticipation. He swings a leg over her and stands by the edge of the bed, towering over her.

“Up now, on your knees,” he instructs and she scrambles to sit on her knees, still looking up at Astarion with lust-filled eyes. He reaches behind her and fully releases her hair from its loose braid letting it fall down the length of her back. He runs his fingers through her hair, humming as he does, “Good girl.” Her chest swells with the intake of breath as she leans into his touch even more.

“Undress. Quickly,” he demands. Her skirt is already up around her waist so she peels the rest of her dress off in a fluid motion. The corset provides a little more resistance, but even with fumbling fingers she manages to untie the laces and undo the hooks, letting it fall behind her. The sudden exposure to air makes her nipples go hard. Astarion smirks and cups one of her breasts in his hand, stroking her tit with his thumb. Stella bites back a cry.

“Shh shh shh. Not a sound,” Astarion whispers as he puts his lips close to her ear, continuing to fondle her. “I don’t want to hear you make a single noise, understood? Not until I say so.” He pulls away and locks his crimson eyes on her brown ones. Stella trembles, but nods silently.

“Good,” he breathes and slides her forward so that she’s sitting on the edge of the bed with her toes lightly touching the floor. He then lowers himself to one knee between her legs. He kisses up her thigh until he reaches her panties. He looks up at her mischievously as he hooks a finger in either side of the waistband, and he slips them off in a single fluid motion. Stella shudders with anticipation for what he plans to do next. 

Astarion parts her legs and she can feel the cool air on the slickness between her thighs. He leans forward and takes her nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue lightly over the tip. She takes in a shaky breath, but she manages to keep any noise she might want to make under wraps. He looks up at her while continuing to work his tongue. She clenches the sheets as jolts of white hot electricity shoot through her body. He pushes her legs apart even further and leans in, the ties from his frilled shirt lightly brushing against her folds. She gasps and shifts her pelvis, simultaneously trying to get less and more contact. He grabs her waist forcefully to hold it in place. He snakes his way up so that they’re face to face, lips a hair’s breadth apart.

“Ah ah, no moving either. Are you going to be good for me? Will you be silent like I’ve asked?” he says in a light, sing-songy tone. Stella keeps her lips clamped together as she nods.

“And what will you give me if you can’t obey?” he purrs, brushing his lips against hers as he runs a thin, cool finger along her slit. 

“Ah-anything,” Stella moans, turning her pleasure sound into a response. Astarion lets a smug grin play on his lips.

“Either way, I’ll get what I want,” he intones, and mercifully pulls his face away from hers. She releases a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. But it’s still only the beginning.

He lowers himself onto both knees and places a delicate kiss on her labia. She squirms but remains silent.

“My, you could drown a small army down here,” he says with an amused smile, and Stella just continues to breathe heavily, her chest rising and falling as she gazes down at the head of white curls between her legs. He runs the tip of his tongue along her folds, hands pushing out on her thighs slightly as he does. As he parts her legs further he exposes more of her, letting his tongue explore the newly uncovered skin. A cry catches in Stella’s throat and she slaps a hand over her mouth. His scorching gaze fixes on her and she lets herself fall back on the bed. If she watches she’ll be done for. Then again, not being able to anticipate his next move might be even worse.

Not being one to let her escape his torment, Astarion grabs Stella beneath the legs and yanks her toward him, letting her legs fall onto his shoulders as he continues to lap up her sweetness. She chokes down a whine, her breath quickening as she desperately tries to control herself. His tongue plunges into her and she bites into her hand with a hiss. With her pelvis rolled up so that he can get the best angle, he continues fucking her with his tongue, getting deep enough that the tips of his fangs press into her ever so lightly. 

That’s what sets her over the edge. The smallest pinprick of pain along with all of the filthy things he’s doing to her with his tongue tears a scream from her throat, muffled by her hand. He stops and stands over her, backlit by the low lighting, her wetness reflecting off his devilish smile. He then grabs her by the throat, not enough to constrict her breathing, but just enough to pull her face up to his.

“What was that, my sweet?” he growls dangerously. 

“N-nothing,” Stella stammers out, but Astarion just smiles.

“I don’t think it was ‘nothing,’ darling,” he breathes, acid in his voice. “I was very explicit in my instructions, was I not?” His hand tightens around Stella’s throat and she lets out a choked sound. It’s not a sound she usually makes. Astarion pulls his hand back slightly, concern creeping into his eyes. Stella looks up at him and nods.

Keep going.

They have a safe word for a reason, but if anything unexpected happens, Astarion still prefers to check in. He’s mentioned before that sometimes he’s worried that he’ll lose control, especially right after drinking her blood.

Stella finds the danger absolutely thrilling, but wants him to feel just as safe as she does.

Astarion drops her throat and pushes her down so her back is flat against the bed. Still between her legs, he pushes his pelvis against hers, pinning her wrists above her head. He’s still fully clothed, and the leather of his pants feels deliciously cool against her wet pussy. He puts one knee up on the bed, pushing her right leg up higher and spreading her even further. As unphased and indifferent as he seems, Stella can still feel his erection pressing into her, and she shifts to feel it more.

“You said you’d give me anything if you failed, correct?” he murmurs against her lips. 

“Yes,” the word escapes on a breath.

“Then hold still.” Astarion stands and the sudden loss of all contact elicits a small whine from Stella. He flashes her a playful smirk as he walks over to the bedside table and pulls out two long strips of cloth. He climbs on top of Stella again, straddling her hips and squeezing lightly with his thighs.

“Wrists, please,” he commands almost nonchalantly. Stella immediately puts her wrists together and holds them out to Astarion.

“Good girl,” he coos and the praise makes her lightheaded. He tenderly wraps her wrists up in the silk cloth, making sure it's tight enough to prevent escape but not enough to cause any lasting damage. He then takes the other strip of cloth, a sturdier cotton broadcloth, and holds it to her lips. He ties it tightly behind her neck, keeping her from being able to open her mouth at all.

“Since you can’t control yourself enough to stay quiet,” he purrs, low and dangerous, “maybe this will do it for you. And I think,” he stands and walks over to the bed stand. He looks over his shoulder and orders in an apathetic tone, “Up dear.” She scrambles to her knees, wrists falling limply in her lap. He continues, “I think you need one more thing to remind you to whom you belong.” He pulls out a fine leather collar with a silver O-ring in the middle. Stella’s excitement mingles with genuine admiration for the craftsmanship. He turns around and lovingly closes it around her neck. He then slips one slender finger through the ring and pulls it up so her head is tilted toward him.

“How does that feel, good?” he asks lightly, and she nods, still desperate to please. He lets go of the collar and strokes her jaw. “Good,” he breathes, and she can see the self-control in his eyes. He wants to fuck her just as much as she wants him to, and it’s taking everything in his power to hold out. He leans into her lips as though he’s about to kiss her but stops just short of making contact. 

“Now, before I decide precisely what I want to do with you,” he hums into her lips, “I want to make sure you can still tell me if I need to stop or slow down. If it ever becomes too much, I want you to snap your fingers, understood? Show me now.” Astarion keeps his lips achingly close to hers, but she does as he says. When he hears her snap, he grabs her face in his hands and kisses her roughly, sliding a dastardly knee between her legs once again. She longs to reach for him but keeps her bound wrists dutifully in her lap as his lips continue their assault on hers. 

Once he breaks the kiss, he remains close and slides his hands behind her head and into her hair. “Good girl,” the words rumble low in his throat and Stella is grateful for the cloth that muffles the obscene noise she makes. He steps away and she’s finally able to see all of him as he pulls off the tunic, revealing his porcelain chest. She yearns to run her fingers along it, tracing the outlines of his muscles, but instead she just grabs a fistful of sheets beneath her hands. He pulls down his trousers, letting his already hardened cock free, and her pussy twitches in anticipation. 

Astarion saunters back up to her and touches the front of her gag where a small wet spot is forming with her desire for him. He smirks and pulls her face down to his cock, running the tip of it along the broadcloth. She can feel it brush against her lips, and she again moans in anticipation. 

“Don’t you wish you could take me in your mouth?” he breathes, and Stella presses her tongue against the inside of the gag, trying to make even minimal contact. He laughs cruelly. “Gods, you’re desperate,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame, because if you had been able to follow my instructions, I may have even let you ride me on top.” He pushes the tip of his dick into the gag one more time before pulling away, leaving Stella to squirm achingly. 

“But instead,” he forcefully pushes her back so that she’s once again lying on the bed with her legs spread open for him. He crawls on top of her and teases her opening with his tip. She mewls in desperation. “You’ll have to contend with me doing whatever I want to this beautiful body of yours. I can slide in,” and he pushes into her, wrenching a gasp and whine from her mouth, before pulling out and letting his tip tease her again, “and pull out on a whim. You said I could do whatever I want.”

Stella is beside herself with lust. Unable to move her hands, she writhes her pelvis, trying to get even the slightest bit of contact. Her pussy is starting to burn from the pent up desire and she’s genuinely unsure of how much longer she can last like this. Astarion grins widely and his fangs sparkle in the low lighting. 

“Shall I give you what you want, darling? What you so fiercely crave?” His slick tip is still dancing around her cunt and tears are starting to form in her eyes as she nods. He thrusts into her again and rips the cloth from her lips before whispering sharply into her ear.

“Then I want to hear it all,” he hisses. “I want you screaming my name as I fuck you.” With his permission, she cries out, all of her stifled energy finally releasing.

“Oh gods, Astarion, fuck me please,” the words spill from her mouth uncontrollably. He starts pounding into her and she knows after all that time teasing her, she won’t last long. The heat of him sliding in and out, the stretch with each thrust, fills her with a fire that threatens to turn into an explosion. 

“Fuck, Astarion, please,” she whines, moments away from climax. She wraps her legs around his waist to get him in deeper, and now it’s his turn to let out a low moan. He continues to slam into her, the sounds of their mutual pleasure mounting.

“Look at me,” he growls, and she struggles to keep her gaze locked onto his crimson eyes. He looks so beautiful above her, silvery hair getting slick with sweat, panting as he continues his smooth rhythm. She can feel her orgasm building as her cries grow louder. He knows she’s close, too, and once again he flashes a fang-bearing smile.

“Come for me, darling,” he groans, and that sends her toppling over the edge.

“Gods, Astarion, yes!” she screams as she comes, and his follows shortly after. With a final thrust, he releases into her, his cock pulsing exquisitely. He looks down at her with an uncharacteristically shy smile and kisses her as he pulls out.

Both of them are out of breath as he collapses onto the bed next to her. Stella’s limbs feel light as though she just downed an entire bottle of dream mist. She rolls onto her side to look at Astarion, who appears to be equally intoxicated. Without a word she holds her wrists up, and he laughs lightly.

“Ah, yes, you might want those back,” he croons, and uses his teeth to pull out the knot, and the silk falls away in one fluid motion. Her hands are so close to his face that she cups his chin gently, just content to look at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, and he turns a kiss into her palm. 

“I could say the same thing,” he purrs as he looks up at her through his lashes. “Tea?” He pulls up the plush blanket that had been folded neatly at the end of the bed and wraps it around Stella’s shoulders. She snuggles into it and pulls it closed around her, then nods. He plants a quick kiss on her forehead and walks over to fill the kettle hanging above the hearth. Stella admires his silhouette, backlit by the light of the fire. He’s lithe and sinewy, his sculpted muscles built for dexterity more than strength. Her eyes rake over his broad shoulders, the dip of his lower back, the curve of his bare ass. He turns his head to look at her over his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Nothing,” she hums, “just enjoying the view.” He smiles as he leans over the blanket cocoon she’s swathed herself in and kisses her lips softly, gently. He’s always particularly tender with her after a session like that, and Stella is grateful for it. She loves being able to see both of these sides of Astarion. The affable tailor eager to serve, and the dangerous dom claiming his power. Her fingers lightly dance on the collar he put on her. She likes the idea of belonging to him. A pity she couldn’t wear something as conspicuous as a leather collar in her daily life.

Astarion returns with a steaming mug, and as though reading her mind, pulls a long jewelry box from the drawer of the bedside table. 

“A companion piece to your collar, if you so wish,” he says in explanation. “You’re under no obligation to wear it, of course, but I thought you might like a little reminder of me everywhere you go.” She opens the box and nestled in the satin is a delicate silver chain with a small ring in the center. Her jaw drops slightly as she marvels at its beauty.

“Astarion, how did you–?” she begins, but he cuts her off.

“It pays to be a well-connected artisan, darling,” he says with a shrug. 

“Will you put it on me?” Stella asks in a light voice, and he looks delighted. She lifts up her hair so that he can unclasp the leather collar and replace it with the silver necklace. His fingers brush against her neck, lingering on the puncture mark he left earlier.

“Although perhaps you might want to sport high-collared dresses for a bit,” he admits with an apologetic grin. Stella turns and kisses him, cupping his face and gently running her thumb along his jaw.

“Well thank the gods I have a tailor who can make me new gowns in all the latest fashions,” she smirks. He climbs on top of her to kiss her more deeply, their naked bodies touching in a way that’s intimate, but not sexual. She could melt into his flesh, his kiss, his breath, and never want to change a thing.

[randomcerealbrand]

What’s your favorite TMNT ship besides Timatello?

Also another question, how would you react when your online friend turned out to be a Roblox YouTuber?

Favorite TMNT ship? Uhhhh...

I don't have any other ships I like as much as Timatello. I know some of my friends' OCs that are shipped with the turtles (in a not weird way dw) but they don't technically count.

I like Leosagi, but mostly 2003 Leosagi and certainly not 2012.

Aprinardo in TOTTMNT is alright, I like them being a couple because they actually aren't weird towards eachother and it's wholesome, but I only see them as platonic.

Leochi (Leo and Yuichi Usagi) is pretty good, I love the concept of Yuichi working at the Run Of The Mill Pizza, or a crossover between dimensions.

Shellshocked is sweet, but it could never happen, unfortunately.

Donnie and Atomic Lass is just funny as hell.

Apritello is something I don't really enjoy, especially in 2012, because of the way they wrote it. If written correctly, I can see this ship happening from a platonic standpoint.

Mikey and Renet - Again, platonic.

Raph and Mona Lisa - 2012 did it and it was rather undercooked and he never actually called her by her actual name, which was odd. Overall it's very sweet but I wish they had more time to develop it. Again, I'd love to make them a thing in my Rise fanon, but my current storyline is incomplete.

Raph and Alopex - Yeesh, the age gap that some of the artists said they had was.. Odd, to say the least. But their relationship definitely did grow to be pretty good until they parted ways. I'd be down to make Alopex best friends with Raph, but the romantic aspects don't vibe with me.

Donnie and Bigfoot - Get the fuck out.

Any of the turtles in general x April - Depends on the way the canon version wrote it. (Aprinardo is currently the only good one.)

April x Irma - Sillies :]

Leorai - This is dogshit.

Baronjitsu - I mean... Sure, I guess. I like the concept.

Splinter x Tang Shen - Canon in 2012, I liked it, it was sweet. As for ROTTMNT, I like how she was one of his co-stars in the Lou Jitsu movies.

April x Casey - Depends on the iteration. 2003 is great, 2012 can go fall off a cliff. 2018 would be cute :]

Raph x Casey - Sure.

Donnie x Casey - 2012; fix the amount of toxic behavior and hostility they have towards eachother, and I'll talk to you about it.

Vernon x April - Bayverse; He's okay, I guess he just misread her signals, but she doesn't like him back and I suppose he respects that.

Donnie and Mona - IDW Comics - Very cute, I like it :)

Donnie and Irma - We don't get to see much of them throughout the franchise, but I like their dynamic in 1987 (platonically) and I enjoyed their dynamic in 2012 as well.

Leo and Koya - I like it. Not much else to say.

Frida x Casey - YES. YES.

Casey Jr. x Nobody - AROACE CJ FOR THE WIN‼️‼️‼️

Splinter and Big Mama - I mean there is some tension there, but I don't think they'd ever get back together.

Leo and Dale - I honestly really like it, they're just two guys in the apocalypse who really like eachother :]

April and Dale - I bet Dale realizes that he likes men and immediately starts apologizing to April. She forgives him and they become besties and they gossip with Sunita and Casey about shit 😭

I saw someone ship Sunita and Dale together once and cringed so 🤷

Sunita x April - I like it, it's cute, but I feel like it's pretty platonic. I'll think about it more as time goes on, but yeah.

Sunita x Raph - I once saw a friend of mine ship these two together and honestly, I liked it! Very good art, very good opinions on it.

Those are all the ships I can remember off the top of my head. But none of these compare to Timatello.

[pleasantspark]

I don’t care if it’s for your AU or rewrite, removing racial coding from a character is still wrong. Emily is stated to be Black coded in her audition sheet

https://64.media.tumblr.com/8a83eb4452e774949855ca3db49709d8/774ab433c55bf7a0-23/s2048x3072/b01ce012568499f8288b3d51d84a5631363f785c.jpg

Other artists that have redesigns of Sera and Emily include and make their Black features more pronounced, you removing her racial coding does come off as whitewashing

You’re better off creating a whole brand new character instead of using Emily :/

Someone else literally did the exact same idea. Plus, reminder. Her Redesign is nearly identical to her old design. I don't see the issue at all? I literally removed race from the equation because it's not important for an Angel to MENTION Race. This was to avoid the issue to begin with.

Also.

Her hair is slightlythe same, minus the extra stuff. It's not all about color theory. In fact. Let me show you what I look like. There is Lightskinned black people. Not all black people are black.

Semi face reveal? I'm not dark fucking skinned, and your issue is because I made someone slightly lightskinned? I am sorry but what the fuck kind of shit that is. If anything her redesigns skintone is somewhat nearly as light as mine.

If I am better off creating something else then fine. Fine, let me fix the drawing.

I didn't mean to start discourse for this exact reason, I didn't want race to be coorelated with creations that don't depict the proper race, if I was better off making my own characters I would have.

"But Orion your OC in your PFP is-"

Yes, because I made it myself. I literally am working with ANGELS. Angels that can theoretically change anything about them. I'm simply racist for making a character slightly whiter? Well guess I ain't black either. Because I ain't black enough.

Imagine telling someone they are RACIST because they went sligtly off the color spectrum for a character they wanted to not assign any race to, now imagine the person is lighter and black.

How does that make them feel? Makes me feel like I ain't black enough. You heard it folks, apparently there's a certain tone that fits the bill of being black.

No disrespect anon, but like, I literally seen others that remove black coded characters to avoid this type of allegations. But like, literally me being racist for lightening up something? That's a far stretch. None of y'all this pissed off at blackwashing so I don't know why you don't also do this amount of anger.

Yes, whitewashing is bad. But I wasn't intentionally doing it, because I am simply removing code so I won't cause any future mistakes. I sincerely apologize if I come across that.

But this is fantasy, I am simply removing something that I find to be difficult to do, if I see it's gonna be an issue in the future for me, then I should BE ABLE to, I literally told you in the post itself that it's literally not that deep, and that Angels shouldn't have assigned races. But no, we have another Rose Quartz situation.

Instead of slightly skinny rose.

It's a fucking slightly pale Emily (Lucina.)

There, you had it fixed. Guess I gotta tan out myself because apparently light skinned AA are also not "black enough" I shouldn't be told what counts as racism and what doesn't when I already question my own skin.

Sorry for doing this ig.

[srim01997]

What if! Ser Gwayne isn’t chased by Baela.

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: NSFW, PIV, Nake Female Cloth Male, Aemond cheat on her but she cheats on him back, Uncle-Niece incest, Incest, Creampie

Writer’s note: I had an idea about Ser Gwayne not being chased off by Baela and her dragon. So, he and his subordinates could rest in the inn but only Gwayne got special treatment from the princess. Maybe it will have part two(?) of this ;)

Gwayne Hightower Masterlist

House of The Dragon Masterlist

If you appreciate work please like, comment, and reblog!

Some of Gwayne's soldiers opted to sleep in the inn rather than on the cold ground with the rest of the troops. Truth be told, Gwayne had little love for the new Hand of the King, a man appointed by none other than his nephew. The young Dornishman was nothing more than the son of a steward, who had stumbled his way into the Kingsguard and failed his duties on more than one occasion—like the night Aemond lost his eye, or the night young Jaehaerys died, all because he claimed to have been asleep after switching shifts with another guard. If anyone decided to set up camp alongside Criston Cole, there’d likely be glares exchanged—or even fists thrown—before the night was over.

Emerald eyes watched as some of his soldiers flirted with the barmaids. Others had already disappeared upstairs with them. Gwayne let it slide; he considered it a brief respite for his men before tomorrow’s battle. After all, there would be no more rest until the Greens claimed victory over the Black Queen and her pretender’s claim. The red-haired knight took a sip from his wooden cup, only to hear a sweet voice cut through the din of the tavern.

“Do you need company for your drink, Ser Knight?”

“I told you I—” Gwayne turned, only to freeze. “Alyssan? You shouldn’t be here.”

The princess seated herself beside him, her coppery-red hair tied into a low bun. She wore practical riding clothes beneath a cloak that concealed her royal status, making her look like a common traveler. A sweet smile spread across her lips.

“Aemond sent me,” she said lightly. “I was at the camp, but Ser Criston told me you and some of your men were at the inn. He offered to watch over my dragon while I rode here. I thought you might need some...relief before tomorrow’s battle.”

She tossed a pouch of coins to the innkeeper. “This should cover the cost of ale, food, and lodging for this handsome knight and his men.”

“Alyssan, you don’t need to—”

“I want to, Gwayne,” she said softly, leaning in close. “Please…”

Before Gwayne could respond, a drunken man staggered toward them, his lecherous grin fixed on the princess. “Why don’t you come have some fun with me, girl? That knight won’t satisfy you the way I can—”

Steel glinted in the dim light as Gwayne’s sword pressed beneath the drunkard’s chin. His emerald eyes burned with anger. “Apologies, but she’s mine.”

He sheathed his sword and, without another word, hoisted Alyssan over his shoulder. The princess let out a small yelp as his large hand gave her backside a firm squeeze, followed by a playful swat. Gwayne carried her to his room and kicked the door shut behind them. He laid her down on the bed, his rough hands tracing her form. “I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk for a week, little princess.”

His calloused fingers began unfastening her clothes, revealing her bare form. Gwayne’s gaze roamed over her with unbridled admiration—from her flowing red hair and violet eyes, to her alabaster skin and the delicate necklace she still wore, a gift he had given her long ago. She was stunning, her body a perfect blend of strength and softness.

If only she hadn’t married Aemond. By now, they could have had many children together.

As Alyssan reached to undo his shirt, Gwayne gently stopped her. His large hand caressed her hair. “Ah, ah, don’t be so hasty, Alyssan. I want to try something new with you.”

The princess furrowed her brows in confusion until she felt his thick fingers slip into her, causing her to gasp. His tongue followed, skillfully teasing her until her body trembled with pleasure. Just as she neared her peak, he withdrew, leaving her breathless and wanting.

Before she could protest, Gwayne loosened the ties of his breeches and guided her face toward him. She took him into her mouth, struggling to accommodate his size. He groaned, tangling his hand in her coppery hair to guide her movements. His emerald eyes darkened as he watched her, the sight of her lips wrapped around him nearly undoing him. When he finally released, the warm, milky fluid dripped down her chin and onto her chest, painting a sinful picture that only he could see.

“Come, sit on my lap,” he murmured, helping her straddle him. His strong hands guided her as she sank onto him, her body fitting him perfectly. “Just like last time, princess.”

Alyssan moved atop him with practiced ease, her bare skin brushing against his linen shirt. She gasped and moaned, her pleasure heightened by the contrast between their states of undress—she, completely bare save for her necklace, and he, still partially clothed. She rode him with abandon, like a woman possessed.

“Imagine, princess,” Gwayne growled into her ear, his voice laced with wicked delight. “If someone walked in and saw the Targaryen princess, Aemond’s wife, riding her knight like a common whore. What would they think?”

His crude words sent shivers down her spine. “But you’re the only one who can have me like this,” she whispered, grinding her hips against him. “Because I came to your bed, knight.”

Gwayne flipped her onto her back, thrusting into her with relentless precision. Her cries filled the room as he claimed her over and over, his large hands gripping her thighs to hold her in place.

“Does your husband take you like this, princess?” he rasped, lifting her legs to rest on his broad shoulders. His movements became rougher, more desperate, as they both neared the edge.

“Let me...” he began, his voice strained.

“Release inside me, Gwayne,” she begged, her nails digging into the sheets. Her words sent him over the edge, and he spilled into her with a deep groan, his seed filling her completely. She trembled beneath him, her body quivering from the aftershocks as he withdrew, his essence leaking from between her thighs.

Gwayne cleaned her with a damp cloth before shedding his own shirt and lying beside her. He pulled her into his arms, pressing soft kisses along her shoulder. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all,” Alyssan replied, her voice tender. She turned to kiss him, a sly smile gracing her lips. “You’re gentler than Aemond, but it seems he prefers whores to me.”

Gwayne’s expression darkened at her words. He cradled her face, kissing her deeply to chase away the thought.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he murmured. “I know you have a dragon, but—”

“Aemond sent me ahead, Gwayne. And I missed you,” she whispered, her body pressing closer to his. The knight groaned, his restraint slipping once more.

“It seems I’ll have to punish this naughty princess again.”

Alyssan stirred awake the following morning, feeling Gwayne's hand wandering over her sensitive areas once again. The red-haired woman turned toward him and murmured, "Haven’t you had enough yet?"

"Then why are you arching into me?" he retorted with a smirk.

Alyssan lifted her leg to allow Gwayne to position himself inside her again while they lay on their sides. However, their moment was interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

The new Hand of the King stood there, clearly displeased to find Ser Gwayne lounging comfortably in a tavern with a woman, while he and the others endured the camp's rough conditions.

"Ser Gwayne, kindly get yourself out of bed. This isn’t the time to be lying around with some whore—"

"The ‘whore’ you’re referring to is me," Alyssan cut him off, turning her fiery gaze on Criston. Her tone was sharp, her violet eyes flashing with annoyance. "And look who suddenly grows silent, Ser Hand. I’m in the middle of enjoying myself with Ser Gwayne. Do you have a problem with that? Oh, wait!"

She pressed a finger to her lips and made a mock shushing gesture.

"If you dare to tattle to my mother or Aemond, prepare to spend your days on the Wall. And don’t forget—I know all about your dirty little secrets."

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard fell silent, his lips pressed into a tight line. He bowed stiffly to her and exited without another word.

Once the door closed, Alyssan turned back to Gwayne. "Now, where were we? Actually, we really should get out of bed—"

She let out a soft moan as Gwayne shifted his hips against her, causing the bed to creak.

"Let me enjoy my princess just a little longer," he whispered.

"Don’t worry," she teased, her voice sultry as she cupped his face and kissed him. "I’ll be sure to visit your tent later. Only you have this special privilege of being tended to by a princess."

After another heated kiss, Alyssan slid out of bed and began dressing. She paid no mind to the warm, sticky substance from the previous night starting to trail down her thighs. Gwayne, noticing, got up and gently pushed it back inside her with his fingers.

"Can’t let it go to waste, Alyssan," he said with a mischievous grin. "I want to see it dripping out when I meet you again."

Once she was fully dressed, Alyssan helped Gwayne into his armor. Before leaving the room, she turned back to him one last time, her gaze lingering. The look in her eyes spoke volumes—they both knew they could never truly be apart.

The End

[oddduckthatgirl]

Title: Dinner and A Show

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x F!Lannister OC

Summary: A decision is made

Warnings: arranged marriages, typical period misogyny

The dinning hall of Casterly Rock had been painstakingly arranged for this evening. Lord Jason Lannister and his lady wife Tyla made sure no expense was spared on this evening’s meal. Everything had to be perfect.

Even the seating arrangements had to be correct. The Prince most certainly deserved to be the head of the table. The Lannister brothers and their families each took up a side. There were to be two single chairs for the daughters near the Prince.

Jasline and Jaylon were not yet in the hall but their brothers and parents had begun to get everyone near their seats. Anxious energy bubbled under Jason’s skin as he paced by his seat.

Daemon made his entrance, as if he could sense the tension in the room. Everyone bowed. He loathes formality but the bowing is something he always enjoyed.

“My Prince,” Jason gestured to the seat at the head of the table, “will you honor my house and take my seat?”

“This is your house and I am but an honored guest. I will take my seat at the opposite end,” he takes in the sight of the other Lannisters in attendance as he strides to his seat, “you are both to be commended on this day. Casterly Rock is an asset to this Realm.”

The doors open and Jasline enters. She bows to Daemon, “apologies my Prince. My sister needed some aid.”

She smiles softly to her parents as she moves to her chair beside Daemon, on the side with Jonathon’s family. The Prince rises and pulls out her chair. She sits and meets his eyes, “thank you, your Highness.”

He winks at her, “my Lady.”

Before another word is spoken, soft footsteps turn Daemon’s gaze to the door. Every head turns to see Jaylon enter the room. He drinks in the sight of her: glowing pale skin wrapped tightly in red shimmering fabric. Every curve of her body is accentuated as if the garment was made only for her. Daemon never believed in the Seven, but if he ever could, Jaylon would be the picture of the Maiden.

Jaylon can feel his stare almost as if it was fire warming her skin. Her cheeks flush and she bows to Daemon, “my Prince.”

She can feel every eye in the room on her, but none of them as intense as Daemon’s. James gives her a reassuring smile as she passes him. She is trying to remember to breathe.

Daemon has already rounded the end of the table when she gets to her seat. He pulls her chair out and offers his hand. She takes it and glides into her seat. Unbeknownst to her family, his fingers brush the back of her arm. He only whispers a single word, “Geive.” (Beautiful)

She waits for him to take his seat. She meets his gaze, “kostilos (thank you),” whispered as she adjusts in her chair.

“That is a wonderful color on you Lady Jaylon,” Jasline adds to draw attention away from the interaction.

“Not the red I would have thought,” Jason Lannister levels his gaze to his younger daughter, “both of you are lovely this evening. Let us begin.”

Dinner is served, along with a selection of the finest wines from Lannisport. There is polite conversation but Jaylon feels the weight of the eyes of the Prince upon her. Each time she looks, his gaze is already fixed upon her. She wonders if this is what the prey on a hunt feels.

“I must thank His Highness and the King for our tutor,” Jaylon squeaks out, “it was most thoughtful.”

Jasline adds on, “oh yes. We are forever grateful Ñuha Dārilaros.” (My Prince)

“You are both most welcome,” Daemon raises his goblet then drinks, eyes never leaving Jaylon.

“Would it be alright if I show you what I’ve learned,” Jasline asks, “I practiced it daily. If you will indulge me, your Highness?”

Jaylon takes a large drink from her goblet and quietly says, “Kostilus, mandia. Sagon lyka.” (Please sister. Be quiet.)

Daemon smirks at the exchange between these two ladies, “by all means Lady Jasline. Please show me.”

Jaylon listens in absolute embarrassment as Jasline recites her speech. She states how much she loves her sister and wishes nothing more than for her happiness. That her sister was born to be a Princess, to be Targaryen, if only in name. She is fierce and loyal. And she will love the Prince. She also thanks him for ensuring her own happiness.

She had wanted to say that her sister would bless Daemon but she forgets the correct word and instead picks another. Only three people in the room understand. Daemon suppresses a laugh.

Jaylon rolls her eyes, “Mandia. Jaylon ñuha Dārliaros ojehiksa. Daor naegsi.” ( Sister. Jaylon is blessing my Prince. Not sweating.)

“It was a long passage sister,” she pouts as she drinks from her glass, “forgive my mistake.”

“It was well said Lady Jasline,” Daemon attempted to diffuse the brooding, “it’s not an easy language to learn.”

“Yes sister,” Jasline smirks, “we all can’t speak seven languages.”

“Eight,” Jaylon quips and everyone erupts with laughter.

Thes rest of the meal continues without any more grandiose gestures. Jaylon feels her chest tightening with each passing moment. She nearly jumps when James taps her hand.

“Deep breaths. Can’t have you fainting.”

“This dress is so tight I’m not sure if I’m able to. I just wish this evening could end.”

James smiles, “I can help see to that.”

“Your Highness. Lord Father. We all have appreciated this time we have come together as a house. However it is nearing the hour for my children to be seen to sleep. I’m sure my brother and his lady wife also have the same need.”

“Of course Son,” Jason Lannister smiles at his grandchildren and sons, “no doubt Jonathon’s lady wife would also like to be abed.”

Daemon’s gaze shifts to the eldest Lannister, “forgive me. I often lose track of time when it is spent in such fine company,” eyes shifting back to Jaylon.

The silence in the room is heavy. Daemon pushes slightly out from the table, “today has been one of the most enjoyable ones in recent memory. I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with both of your daughters. Lord and Lady Lannister, you both should be filled with pride to know you have reared some of the most polite and kind young women in all of Westeros.”

“Thank you my Prince,” Tyla squeezes her husband’s hand.

“After careful consideration and with the knowledge of their reputations, I have chosen to take Jaylon to wed.”

Jaylon meets his gaze and quickly bows, “my Prince.”

Jason Lannister grinds his jaw, “Jaylon?”

“Yes,” Daemon tilts his head in question, “I felt that was a simple statement.”

“Everyone out,” Jason commands as the Lannister clan begins to exit the hall.

Jaylon looks between her father and her now betrothed and begins to leave.

Daemon holds his hand up. He then offers his hand to Jaylon, which she takes, “you stay here. This very much concerns you.”

“This. Does. Not,” her father spits out.

“It is her life my Lord,” Daemon retorts, “she should know what it all means. Especially as she is to be my wife.”

Jaylon grips his hand tighter when he says the word wife.

“I urged you to take Jasline,” Jason Lannister is pacing in front of the hearth.

“She is in love with Thomas Boratheon.”

“What does love have to do with any of it? She needs to do as she’s told. Unlike this one, meddling and doing as she wants. Putting herself in your way to ensure you would find her more appealing. She isn’t not suited for you. She cannot be commanded or contained. Always with a quip or an opinion when none was asked for.”

Daemon feels Jaylon’s posture becomes even more rigid. Her grip on his hand makes his bones ache. He squeezes her hand back and she looks down at him. Unshed tears shine in her eyes.

“Perhaps the lady just needs a firmer hand,” he watches the blush travel down her neck, “you insult her and here she stands. Not a word spoken. Her face is still. The very picture of a proper lady. What fear do you have?”

“She will embarrass you, your Highness.”

Daemon stands and kisses Jaylon’s fingers, “I can embarrass myself. What you fear is she will embarrass you, my Lord.”

Jason stops in his tracks. Glaring at Jaylon, “you did this girl. You’ve ruined us.”

“I haven’t done anything,” she roars back as she steps in front of the Prince, “I stayed hidden. I did exactly as you asked. This little scheme was all Jasline’s idea. I tried to persuade her to not but she is in love with Thomas.”

“He is a second son.”

“As am I,” Daemon adds as he stands beside Jaylon, “what my Lady says is true. Lady Jasline told me herself in the gardens. She told me how to find Jaylon.”

Jason flops into his arm chair by the hearth, “my daughters. Too cunning for their own good.”

Daemon pulls Jaylon with him and guides her to sit opposite her father, “it would be quite advantageous for you if you were to wed your eldest to the Boratheon. They would likely pay a more substantial dowry considering her birthright.”

“As for this arrangement?”

“It would be much the same. Plus, we are asking for your horses. That would pay a handsome sum as well.”

Jason mulls over the business of it all, “and if I refuse?”

“I can command you. I would rather it not come to that.”

Jason meets his gaze, “I would ask just one question then.”

“I will answer honestly.”

“Would you ever be able to love her more greatly than I or her brothers have?”

Daemon kneels before him, “my Lord. I swear this to you now. I will love her as greatly as you and her brothers, just in a different way. No man could replace her father or her brothers. What I can be is the strength and protection she needs. To love her as the treasure she is. To worship her. To fight wars for her honor if need be. If I would ever be so foolish as to break her heart, body or spirit I would expect any of you to seek me out.”

Jaylon covers her open mouth. She cannot believe she’s seeing the Rogue Prince bend the knee to her father.

His words hang in the air. Time seems to not move at all as Jason Lannister nods. Both men stand and lock eyes. His eyes soften, “she’s so much like her mother, my Prince. Even sitting there as she is now. It’s like my light has returned.”

Jaylon lets the tears fall. She had been right about this.

“Then I will ensure the enduring light of Casterly Rock shines for all of Westeros,” Daemon claps his hand over Jason Lannister’s shoulder.

Jason shakes his head, “my little cub. A soon to be married woman.”

Jaylon gives her father a lopsided smile, “I will always be your little cub, Father.”

Daemon stands beside her, “the hour is getting late and I must ride back to King’s Landing with happy news. Will my Lady and her Lord Father see me to my mount?”

“Of course my Prince,” Jaylon gives her most perfect curtsy.

Daemon considers stopping her but instead is lost in her appearance . He offers her his arm which she takes as they all walk towards the front of the keep. Jason Lannister keeps a respectful distance from the couple as custom would ask.

Jaylon leans into Daemon, “I thought you were going to have to command him.”

“As did I.”

They both laugh and she begins to be lost in quiet thoughts after, “Daemon. I’m not sure if I will be…”

“Be what? I want you as you are Jaylon. You need not change for me or for anyone,” he takes her hand and kisses her fingers, “you are perfection.”

“Thank the gods it’s dark or you would see my face matches my dress.”

“It is a lovely color. I do like it,” his eyes drop to her ample cleavage as he thinks something over, “I’m going to have dresses made for you befitting a princess.”

“That isn’t necessary,” she stops in front of him.

“One thing to learn right away little lion,” he captures her chin between his thumb and forefinger, “if I tell you I will do something for you, it is not a request.”

She swallows and nods, “forgive me my Prince.”

“I told you. When it’s in private…”

“Daemon,” she takes his arm again and continues their walk to his mount, “I have many dresses. So much so you might think me vain.”

“Beauty is entitled to vanity. Especially in something like this.”

“Well it’s not very comfortable. I can hardly breathe.”

“Odd. It also makes it difficult for me to breathe.”

She lays her head against his arm. He can feel the heat of her cheeks, “you flatter me.”

“As often as I can my Lady,” kissing the crown of her head, “I will keep in mind that perhaps an innocent lady isn’t used to such devotion.”

“I did not ask you to stop.”

They walk past the gates of Casterly Rock and near a clearing on the coast. Jaylon looks around and sees nothing other than the same coast line she’s seen since she was a child.

“Expecting a dragon to just be napping hmm,” Daemon teases.

“Perhaps. Where is it?”

“He, Caraxes, probably went out hunting. He does eat. I will call him back.”

She doesn’t know what to say. She wondered if there was a farmer missing livestock nearby or if perhaps further off. She watches as Daemon closes his eyes and says something softly in High Valerian.

“He will come. He knows I want him to come to me.”

“But how does he know?”

“A dragon and their rider have a bond. Caraxes knows when I want him to come to me. He also knows when I need protection.”

Before she can ask another question, the sound of Caraxe’s wings fill the night sky. He announces his approach with a screaming roar. Jaylon jumps at the sound and Daemon pulls her against his side.

“Easy now kelitos (little lion). He will not harm you. He only wishes to let me know he’s coming to me. Nothing to fear.”

She nods furiously as the ground rumbles beneath their feet. The sight before her is both terrifying and awe inspiring. Caraxes slithers his long neck toward his rider, a rumble that would otherwise be mistaken for a growl as his eye settles on Jaylon.

“Lykiri (easy),” he commands, “let him get your scent. Give me your hand.”

She offers her shaking palm to him as he leads her toward the dragon. She hoped fear isn’t a palpable scent. After only a few moments, Caraxes leans his head toward Jaylon.

“He wants you to pet him,” Daemon lays her palm flat against the snout of Caraxes, “move in the direction of his scales.”

Jaylon begins to rub her palm against the warm scales. She is nearly toppled as Caraxes moves his head closer. A different more high pitched sound comes from him, “is he chirping?”

Daemon smiles and puts his hand over hers, “he likes you.”

“Oh,” she smiles and laughs, “Ao nykeā sȳz zaldrīzes issi.” (You are a good dragon.)

Warmth grows in Daemon’s chest seeing their exchange, “he is a very good dragon. The best of them.”

“I like him. More so especially since he made no attempt to devour me,” mischievous light danced in her eyes.

I know a dragon that would devour you, Daemon mused, “He doesn’t generally take kindly to others. I told you that you were rare.”

“If Caraxes thinks so, then it must be true.”

“I know you jest,” he stands with their hands joined in front of them, “I was serious about making you believe it.”

“I look forward to you keeping that promise,” softly smiling at him.

His eyes studied her face. He wanted, no, needed to memorize every feature. Running his fingers up her arms, he felt her trembling under his feather light touch. Her eyes were fixed on his as he rested an arm on her slender waist, “may I kiss you Jaylon?”

She nodded furiously.

His fingers traced over her lips, “Words. I need to hear you say it.”

“Issa.” (Yes)

Daemon leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers. Cupping her head in his right hand, he deepened the kiss and pulled her close to him. He did not linger too long as it would be improper.

She whimpered when he pulled away. Her breath was coming in heavy pants. He could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She felt like if she were not holding him that she very well might float.

“Daemon,” she clutches his wrists, “is it always like that?”

He tilts his head in confusion, “did you never feel this way from a kiss?”

“I….well it’s just….”

“I see,” he eases her fingers away from her hold on him, gently taking her hands in his, “I shall endeavor to not overwhelm you, sweet girl.”

“I rather enjoy being overwhelmed, I believe.”

Her breathy admission makes him chuckle. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead, “Patience. Now, I really must go. I wish you and your family a safe journey to King’s Landing. Look for messages from me along the way.”

“I shall,” she reluctantly pulls away and allows him to mount Caraxes. Her mouth goes dry at the sight of him.

She watches as Caraxes beats his wings and appears to leap as he takes flight. Her thoughts drifted to this day, what has happened and what her future holds.

A laugh bubbles out of her. She feels like she will wake tomorrow and it will all be but a dream.

….only when she does, servants are preparing for the long journey to King’s Landing.

[yewphoric]

For the Metal OC Qs!

Iron 3, Gold 1, Lead 5, Silver 2

(If this is too many questions, you can pick from what I chose! c: )

Hi hi!! Please ignore how long it took me to finally answer these!! <- is very busy

Of course I will answer them all because I love to yap about my OCs >:3c

Doing my 4 main ones, with a few cameos!

Iron; 3. Upon what does your OC draw to get them through situations of great adversity? Their sense of purpose? The thought of their loved ones? Sheer overwhelming rage? Or perhaps something else entirely?

I'm taking "great adversity" to mean something like a battle or high-stress situation. So, a few answers: For Ragnar, it's a mix of his sense of purpose and the thought of loved ones. The loved ones thing especially as his story goes on and he gets more and more friends who care for him for who he is. He is pretty in-tune with what destiny is laid out for him, though, so that's something he relied on a lot particularly when fighting Alduin. For Jenais, it's a fear of death/refusal to die. He draws upon his purpose and his work, keeping that to motivate him. With a bit of pure rage, of course. And don't tell him I said this, but he also uses the thought of Ragnar to get him through situations once he starts actually caring about him. For Hadrevan, purpose and rage. They refuse to die before carrying out their destiny, and they're also just really fucking mad a lot of the time. Leads to quite a bit of brutality from them, even if the situation didn't call for it at all. For Mazourkh, it's her loved ones and wanting to go home and relax. Typically she thinks of her mom, Martin, and all the other friends she's made along the way.

Gold; 1. If your OC was called upon to arbitrate between the nobility (or an equivalent social elite) and the common people, on which side of the table would they be sitting during negotiations?

Pretty sure almost all of them would be on the commoner's side. Almost none of my OCs come from nobility. The only ones I can think of that would willingly represent nobility/royalty/etc. would be Evyndil (my Azura demiprince OC; spends most of her time among the rich and powerful) and maybe Aureline (holds a position of great power, though she was originally a commoner). Ionya is of royal blood, but she is firmly on the side of commoners now, having become one herself after being disinherited. Plus, what thief would willingly represent nobles?

Lead; 5. How does your OC believe they will die? Peacefully in bed surrounded by friends and family? Or alone in the wilderness? Or fighting against overwhelming odds? Or perhaps they have a different notion altogether?

Ragnar believes it will die fighting Alduin, alone. Jenais doesn't believe he will die, but if he does, he hopes it's protecting Ragnar. Hadrevan knows better than to hope to die at this point, as all odds have seemed to be against them. Mazourkh hopes she dies peacefully, but fears dying violently and painfully every time she enters an Oblivion Gate.

Silver; 2. How tactful is your OC? Are they able to frame criticism constructively and give feedback in a way that protects against potential hurt feelings? Or are they blunt, or even callous, in their attitude to the failings of others?

Ragnar tends to beat around the bush far, far too much with criticism, unless it's someone he doesn't like. He does get better at this as time goes on, being tactful and nice about it but not spending 5 minutes apologizing for bringing it up in the first place. Jenais is outright cruel with his criticisms and judgement. The only person he's willing to be tactful with is Ragnar. He looks down on everyone else. Hadrevan is blunt and callous, doesn't matter who it is. All that matters to them is fixing the problem as efficiently as possible, and hurt feelings are not a thing they care about. Mazourkh is so, so sweet and usually doesn't give criticism at all. She might do the "I think maybe possibly you could change this thing if you wanted to, but don't mind me I don't know anything" sort of thing Ragnar does if she has to provide criticism.

[yet-another-deanw-girl]

Chapter 11: The Mark, The Blade and The Scribe of God

||The Prophecy Series||

She knew for 15 years that this day would come. She knew her destiny had already been written. That her death had been foretold.

She knew she would have to stop him. She knew she would have to kill him. And she thought she was prepared for all of it. But the day she met him she realized how wrong she was…

Set in Season 10

Pairing: MoC!Dean x Female!OC

Warnings: the usual SPN, language, violence

Episode mapping: During episode 10 of season 10 "The Hunter Games"

Note: The events of this story are following season 10 of Supernatural and are taking place between October 2014 and July 2015. I tried to make sure that all the references to weapons, tech, etc. are accurate with the time period.

AN: This is my first time writing a fanfic but the story has been in my head for too long and it just needed to get out. I hope you like it.

AN: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Castiel is staying in the bunker for the last couple of days. I actually like the angel. It's so refreshing how clueless he is sometimes and the fact he is trying to take care of his vessel's daughter is unexpected. He has no idea how to deal with a teenage girl, none of them has, but they are trying. It is a little unnerving the way Castle is looking at me sometimes… Not like Sam… Not with distrust… or like I’m going to flip any moment and kill Dean. No… Castiel is looking at me like he is waiting for me to realize something… like any second I will figure out the biggest secret of the universe… Maybe I have to talk to him… Maybe he knows something more about the prophecy… He is an angel after all… But… if he knew something, Sam would have already prayed it out of him. But… except those rare moments that make me uncomfortable… I do like the angel. The really interesting thing is to see how Sam is acting with him. He is considerate and kind and supportive… well he acts like he acted with me the first day we met, before he learned who I am. It's nice to see it. I always knew that he is the compassionate one no matter the animosity he feels about me.

"I crossed the line. Guys, this thing's got to go."  I hear Dean's voice coming from the library and I turn back. I'm just trying to stay out of their way and hide in the mainframe's room. The stupid thing doesn't want to make my life easy and show me the problem. "That won't be easy." Castiel replies. "Well, then, burn it off! Cut it off!"  The frustration in Dean's voice is obvious but the conversation is fading away as I'm going farther away from the library. There is nothing I want to hear less than a new plan and a new hope they desperately want to believe in. "It will take a very powerful force to remove the effect. This reaches back to the time of creation. It may predate the lore. If we had the Demon Tablet, maybe."  Castiel's words stop me in my tracks.  The Demon Tablet?  I thought It is just a rumor, a myth.  "There may be another way."  It looks like the angel decided to get involved with The Mark after all. I wonder what other way he believes he can find.  There is no other way but me.

I admit, I'm curious about the prisoner Castile has brought in the bunker. He believes that the man can help Dean with The Mark. "We need to know how to remove The Mark of Cain from Dean's arm." I hear Sam asking the prisoner. "What? He's back?" The prisoner sounds surprised. "Because of The Mark? So… He's a demon."  Wait!  Wait!  What? "No." "Okay, what then? What, did he kill a human or something?" The prisoner tries to mock Sam but Sam does not answer him.  "He did!?" The prisoner exclaims excitedly.  "He's gone nuclear! Total foaming-at-the-mouth, balls-out maniac. That's fantastic!"  What had he done now!? So that's what they are hiding.  My head is spinning.  I need to figure out how to stop Dean before it's too late but I can't do anything until I fix this damn bunker! "Buddy… I don't care what happens to you. You killed my brother."  He had killed him? This is impossible! The Mark wouldn't allow this. But it explains why the prisoner thought that Dean must be a demon.  But why is he not? And who the hell is this prisoner? And why do they believe he has any information about how to destroy The Mark? "Boy, he really is a mess. Who knew The Mark was so toxic? Well… Actually, I did. You know it is going to own you sooner than later."  This man is really annoying. I want to barge into the room and punch him in the face myself. "I have a special place in my… non-heart for you both, to which end… ta-da!... I would be tickled to help you pop this biblical zit. To do it, you are gonna need one specific thing. Your old buddy… The First Blade." They have a lot of things to explain but I decide to stick to spying on them for the time being. After all, they had many opportunities to tell me all of this so I intend to gather as much information as possible.

"The First Blade is back in play, and Crowley is the one getting it? I don't mean to be an alarmist, but you…" I hear Cas storming into the bunker. "This would be the Crowley who let the Blade turn Dean into a demon?"  Crowley?  Really?  The missing pieces are slowly starting to fit together. My old friend Crowley is in this too…

"I'm guessing you're not here to reminisce." "No, we did what you said. We have The First Blade." That's it! I can not hold my mouth shut any longer. "You have some explaining to do!" I demand, walking in the interrogation room, the devil's trap room, as they call it. "Oh! And who is that? Aren't you a cute little Warrior of the Fates?" The prisoner coos. "Why none of you had told me she is already here?" "We need to talk." Sam tells me. "Oh! Now you want to talk!" I raise my brow at him and my voice is filled with sarcasm. "Outside!" Sam demands. I follow him outside and when we are far away from the room, I explode. "So let me sum up all the things you just forgot to mention! Dean was killed by that asshole, however he is, he became a demon and hung out for a while with my old 'friend' Crowley. With Crowley! With the fucking King of Hell! You found a way to bring him back and that was what triggered the bunker's alarm that brought me here." I'm pissed. "Then Dean killed some human and you hid it from me!" "You know Crowley?" "Kind of! Of all the things I just said, is that what you want to focus on!?" "What did you expect? Of course I insisted on not telling you anything!" He yells at me "You are supposed to kill my brother!" "Do you honestly believe I want to do that? If it depends on me I would rather die before I have to do this!" I yell back at him. "I…" We both stop our screaming match when we hear the door to the interrogation room slam shut and locked.

"So… Trouble in paradise? It seems like your brother doesn't really like your little soulmate." Metatron comments when Ema follows Sam outside. "What did you say?" I ask, not sure if I heard him correctly. "Oh…you don't know about this part? She hasn't told you!?" "Repeat it again!" I demand "How did you just call her?" But he just shook his head, his lips pressed shut. "It's very lonely here, and I have little to do but think." He starts. "And it occurred to me that you really need this mark taken off of you.  And in order to do that, you really need me.  So, here's the deal…  That first little tip I gave you… a freebie, just 'cause you're you.  Every future step, every future information?  They're gonna cost you…  Big…"

GIF from Pinterest

"All right, I'm gonna ask this exactly once before it gets ugly…" I warn him, taking out my angel blade and locking the door. "What did you call her?" My mind is racing… It can not be true… Ema… No… The angels and their games… But they can not be so cruel… It can not be true… It's just Metatron trying to find a way to mess with me again… "I repeat my offer… each question costs you." "You're confused. See, each question you don't answer… is gonna cost you. And it's been a long time coming.  I mean, where do I begin?  Stealing Cas' Grace…  Casting out the angels…  Making Gadreel kill Kevin using my brother's hands, starting an angel war…  And, oh, yeah...you killed me."  "My morality is being judged by Dean Winchester? How many people have suffered and died because they believed in you? How many times have you lied to Sam, including, oh, by the way, when he was possessed by an angel?  And you say, 'oh, well, it's all for the greater good,'  But lately, buddy, that greater-good thing just went away, didn't it? Now people die just because you want them to!" With each word my anger boils more and more. "Oh!  Good, Dean.  Go darker.  Go deeper! Surely you've noticed every time you respond, when the Mark gets you all twitchy, you fall deeper under its spell. You think roughing up a few humans and demons makes it worse? Try messing with the scribe of God!" His voice is the only thing in my mind… His words… "And Kevin's death? All on you. You put him in harm's way and kept him there. Gadreel possessing Sam? Who was it who tricked Sam into letting him in? Oh, and then my personal favorite… Dean Winchester, whose entire existence is defined by a war on the dark and monstrous, bromancing his way around the country with the King of Hell!" He is right… This is all on me… "And Emilia… Oh! Her death will be on you too…" "Tell me how to remove The Mark!"

We run to the door. Sam tries to open it and yells at Dean. He tries to kick it down but when we hear screams from the inside Cas appears and blows it away. Sam storms into the room dragging Dean away from the prisoner just in time to stop him from killing the angel. He is an angel… What has he done to end up in chains? "I have to take him back." Cas announces. "Cas, this won't happen again." Sam pleads with him.  "I gave my word. I have fences to mend in Heaven, and as it is, I have a lot to explain." "If you ever ask me for help again, I will choose death." The prisoner says when Cas walks out of the room with him.  "You realize it's going to get worse, Dean. You're gonna get worse!"  He looks at me.  He is covered in blood, his lips cut, his eye swelling and turning black. Dean… What have you done… "And you, young lady, you will have to be ready to stop him. All the angels are counting on it…" I look at him with confusion. "What exactly do you think The Fates are?" He smiles at me glad that he had cached me off guard.

Dean looks at me with desperation.

Image from Pinterest

Chapter 12: I'm Not a Fucking Princess >>

||The Prophecy Series||

[deepspacedukat]

Coitarche

I wish to issue a very sincere apology. I know that I had Elnor (ST:PIC) listed for this prompt, but I have been trying for several days, and I just can't seem to capture his voice. (Usually my fics are late because I'm rly bad at time management, but today, it's because he is Incredibly Difficult™ for me to write.) I know there are often small typos in my works despite my attempts to edit them out, but typos are one thing. Low-quality, shitty work is another beast entirely. I always go back and re-edit my works for typos/quick fixes, but I cannot in good conscience allow myself to put out work that makes me cringe as much as my attempts at writing Elnor have. I want to do right by you all, and as it stands currently, I refuse to curse your eyes with my horrendous failed attempts.

That being said: today's fic will feature my Romulan OC, Major Denak (mentioned in "Praetor's Pride" chapter 3). This fic is a side commentary to "Praetor's Pride," but you don't need to have read that first to understand this little drabble. I will, once I have had more time to find Elnor's voice in my writing, release a sort of "make-up fic" about him. I don't like not being able to deliver on something when I've given my word that I will. It probably won't come out until after the SoC challenge is over, but Elnor fans, I will learn your man's voice if I have to listen to clips of him for hours on end!

For anyone who is curious, "coitarche" is defined here. Anyway, enjoy!

Day 29: Loss Of Virginity

SoC prompt list here. SoC Masterlist here. Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Denak (OC) x Unnamed Romulan OFC, mention of Hiren (ST:Nemesis) x Reader (from "Praetor's Pride")

[A/N: This is smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mild angst, lost love, arranged marriages, sexual memories, sexual dreams, loss of virginity, mention of masturbation, woman on top, biting.

(Picrew used to make ^this^ can be found here.)

~*~

"Why are you alone after all this time, Major Denak?" The calm, curious voice of Praetor Hiren called out from the balcony railing, and the man in question lifted an eyebrow.

"Sir?" Denak was far from the only guard on duty tonight, but when the Praetor took his nightly walk around the grounds, he preferred that he only have one guard with him. The palace was safe enough, he claimed, and he didn't enjoy feeling as though he was a child who required a large escort even in his own home.

"I have seen many of my guards with their partners, or I've at minimum heard them discussing their various conquests, but you..." Hiren trailed off, pausing as he turned to face the youngest member of his Rei’karansu. "Have you no romantic prospects?"

Denak knew precisely why Hiren was so curious. The pretty Federation Ambassador whom the Praetor had been chatting with tonight had put him in a good mood - a better one than he'd been in since his official appointment.

"None at present, my lord Praetor." The older man seemed disappointed, so, not wishing to sour his mood, Denak allowed a memory to tug at him. "However, there was someone several years ago."

The guard noted a small smile upon the other man's lips, and he continued.

"She was the first woman I ever truly loved. I dare not reveal her identity, though. She is a nobleman's wife, now, and I doubt she would appreciate her name being associated with that of a mere guard," he murmured taking a few steps closer to the Praetor's position and gazing out across the palace gardens. "She was sweet...just as inexperienced and nervous as I was."

Denak could recall every moment he'd spent with her in perfect detail. She'd been carved into his heart as deeply as only a first love ever could. They'd both been so overcome by their passions that despite the awkwardness that was invariably present in a first sexual encounter, both Denak and his lover had overcome their nerves and enjoyed themselves immensely.

"Ah, young love. There is nothing else quite like it in this universe," Hiren muttered as he leaned against the railing. "Were you together long?"

The Major let out a quiet, wistful sigh.

"Five years. Longer than I deserved, but...not nearly long enough," he stated, trying not to sound too much like he was pouting. "Her family arranged her betrothal, and she was forced to break off our relationship. From what I understand, her husband treats her well, but...I can't help but wonder what might have happened if...well..."

He couldn't put into words the thoughts he'd mulled over so often in the dark solitude of his empty bed over the years.

What if she'd chosen to ignore her family's wishes? What if she'd chosen him instead? What if Denak had been her husband instead of that stuffy dignitary?

He knew it was no use dwelling on hypothetical situations, but he still had moments where he couldn't control that nagging little voice in his head.

As the years passed, his feelings for her had dimmed, as was expected, but there were still lonely nights in which his dreams featured the ghost of her lips on his neck and awoke with the sensation of her fingers gripping his shoulders as she rode him. He'd take his length in hand and allow the memories to burn through him until he spilled over his stomach.

Denak still remembered the adoration in her eyes when he brought her to orgasm for the first time. She'd been his first in every respect, just as he had been hers. Elements, she was the reason he knew he enjoyed having his ears bitten!

"I have been with others since her, but none to whom I've formed a serious connection," the Major said, and Hiren nodded his head.

"I know what you mean. I've had a few encounters since my wife passed, but all of them were casual. We all need release, but...being open with someone...being truly committed after a love like that...it's difficult," the Praetor commiserated before turning to look at his guard. "I suppose we're both waiting for the one who will pick up the pieces, aren't we?"

"Yes, my lord Praetor," Denak replied dutifully, but given the sparkle in the older man's eyes, he suspected that one of them had already found what he was looking for.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani @android-boyfriends @attention-bajoranworkers @bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes @emilie786 @horta-in-charge @live-logs-and-proper @slutty-slutty-vulcans @starrynightgardens @toebeans-mcgee

[katyspersonal]

When you started drawing? And how? Your works are so detailed and you feel the perspective so Q_Q Your drawing of old hunter from DLC is incredibly cool, I am looking respectfully

Oh- You mean this ( x ) one? Haha, yeah, it was an art commission, so I tried to give it the best I could... Though maybe using something I was paid for as a chance to practice perspective was a little irresponcible :') But the customer was happy, and this is what matters!

To be honest, I've been drawing for as long as I can remember...? I have quite the regrets about having basically none of my drawings from childhood survive, because it's been a LOT. But I've been going over the top with details, colors and settings since the age of like, 4-5 I think? I recall the caretakers at kindergarden REALLY loving my drawing of underwater, because I killed it with variety of fish and seaweed, despite having no references or knowledge! Also, fun fact - the very first art criticism of my life from me was towards a girl that colored every woman in her coloring book as blonde with blue eyes! I criticized her saying that there were other colors for people and that it was boring to be so samey dsfjjdshfsd Had to apologize, but.. yeah, it was the ultimate "I've always been this way" moment if I've seen one. :')

I used to visit classes to practice my drawing in elementary school, though! But it was mostly environment and animals, when I was more interested in drawing people at that time! The period from 8 to 12 years was the one where I kept creating OCs obsessively, and stories for them, and I've had like 6 comics I've been drawing and coloring at the same time (mostly comedy + fantasy)! I think what really inspired me to start creating the comics and characters that were mostly young girls with elemental powers was the Russian comic, Rainbow Knights x) (Журнал "Юла", припоминаешь? хд) I was obsessed with it, and I was obsessed with excuse to use more colors, effects and nature/elemental aesthetic. And yes, it was all trdaitional! I love using crayons, markers, pens and pencils for coloring. My clumsy hands were never good for paintbrushes... I moved more onto digital around the age of 14. It was when I've found a summer job, and earned enough money to buy a tablet! So.. I started prioritize digital art since then! But it had the form of me first drawing something on the paper, and then scanning and fixing/lining/coloring it on the computer for a LONG time! Well, it was taking some time to get used to, as well, so I also had some drawings I did with my mouse and vector tool in PS or SAI, like this:

It is one of the only few remaining "ancient" ones, since most of them got lost forever on the old hard drive! ...I still HAVE this hard drive, I just have no idea how to extract anything from it.. It is kinda broken :U But if I get my hands on very old doodles trapped there, I will share!

^ I believe this was the first doodle that I did 100% on the computer AND with the tablet! Without mouse, without first drawing traditonally and then digitally, but just on the computer, from start to finish! But it was still hard to do, so I kept with the use of paper and pencil for some more while. Like- I hoped I'd find some old drawings for this ask, but all I found were traditional versions of some of my drawings!

You could tell that using traditional paper + pencil were beneficial for anatomy and proportions. And that I used to be better at that, VERY much better. And that it was sorta... easier to 'get lost' in the process? It was a simpler life when not only I was far less depressed and broken, not only I had more spare time in schoo/uni years, but also just... I did not feel burnt out. Or guilty over the fact of not finishing new drawing "fast enough" (and thus, looking like a loser). I also had less things online to drain my spare time, less distractions... I kinda miss that time, really...

All in all, I've never learned to draw PROPERLY. I was self-taught but not studying too hard, mostly I was just analysing art of artists I loved to improve my own, and asking advice from good artists to fix this or that! Hence, my skill used to be better! Year 2015-16 was my most productive year artistically! I've been drawing a bunch of (then) popular cartoon stuff, as well as TONS of fanart for Rick and Morty RP community, and all the things were sooooo bright, colorful and full of energy...

And now meet the man that sorta ended my art career :^) I've picked interest in Mark (Endlish localisation called him Marx and I hate it lol), and that pulled me into the rest of K1rby. Except I could not actually play anything (besides 64 Crystal Shards that I emulated), so I compensated with letsplays and anime. And Super Paper Mario was a side obsession. xD But.... yeah, since MARK, dark ages for my art started. No, no, my art was good! Awesome, even! I kept people begging me to "please draw K1rby again" for years since fandom shifting! Words like, 'no one ever cared about this universe and characters the same way you do'... But! Drawing 'creatures' for 2-3 years completely destroyed my prior (already loose) knowledge of human anatomy and proportions, and I am still struggling to recover that former skill! :')

Finally, year later, around February/March 2021, I've gotten pulled into Bloodb0rne! Badly. And thanks to Mic0lash. Huh, it is always some madman, isn't it? xD But I felt very self-consious about my art... I felt like serious, detailed, dark and beautiful atmosphere of BB deserved better than my "overly cutesy" and "tone-deaf" art.... annnnd if this sounds like something I'd never say, but rather as an unfair criticism from some antsy reddit-ish asshole? It is because it is EXACTLY what it was! :')

But in either case, the Doll was the first time I've used paper and pencil again in many years. I felt so... alive? I recall the feeling I could only describe as 'blood returned in my veins' but spiritual, you know? It felt like so much fun! To remember how to draw traditonally, to break out of my 'round cutesy' comfort zone- heck, I even downloaded brushes for my SAI for the first time in my life, just to color the characters better! Learned new coloring style, too: usually my coloring was very rigid and relying on very concrete colors for shadow and base.. but from this point on, I prioritized more 'chaotic' approach, as I felt it was more appropriate!

....and so, now we are here. x)

You could tell that some of the things I am just used to persisted, and that colorful, "childish" energy is still slipping through the cracks. Soulsb0rne games are ideal for how my mind works... but perhaps not for how my soul works. There is just something in me that craves that sillyness, overly colorful designs and settings, and maybe ER is closer to that aesthetic? Yeah, had I not been criticized on my art harshly upon joining BB, maybe my art would've been way more cute and 'free'! I always loved drawing many details, but something about the route I've taken about drawing made it very heavy. My brain short-circuits at the AMOUNT of the details I keep in mind, yet I can't rest unless I got it "at least 90% correct", even when it is a darn shitpost ;-; I will figure out what went wrong compared with the way I used to draw humans..... someday.

Thank you for asking, though! Ha! Honorable mention: tons of shitposty comics and doodles I kept drawing in classes, both school and uni! x)

[rosietrace]

『 Camellias and Hydrangeas 』

Ocs featured: Victoria Shard, Sarah Marigold(@mintychocolate04), Aldrich Edelweiss(@revolllutionary/@revivemyreverie)

Mentioned: Kiara Rhys, Cosette De Sade(Both by @littleunknowncheesecake)

Pairing: Victoria x Aldrich

Synopsis: Sarah doesn't trust Aldrich. But when it comes to whatever antics he's in, Victoria doesn't bat an eye.

Warning(s): Why the fuck is this so long, Aldrich being Aldrich, Victoria being... Victoria, Sarah being overprotective, possessive behavior, sending a literal heart as a gift, implications of murder, the word count for this somehow concerns me, potentially REALLY ooc, but hey, pretty words! Aldrich only saying ‘witch’ twice, she didn't fix him she just made him worse /j /j

{ Apologies for any out of character moments }

[ Reblogs > Likes ]

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▹     †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤† Victoria Shard, the beautiful manipulator

Sarah had just finished her assignments in Ignihyde and was ready to visit her beloved cousin in Pomefiore.

Every time she did this, none can deny the excitement in her eyes. While it's true that she isn't one to smile a lot, there's always a certain glint in her eyes that tells you just what she feels about anything.

And in this case, the glint meant that she was unashamedly excited to spend time with her cousin. Perhaps a spar was in order? There were too many options, and that only made the sparkle of Sarah's eyes brighter.

I can't wait to see Vivi-chan! Sarah thought. It has been a while since we last spent some time together…

That actually got Sarah wondering: Why was Victoria so occupied recently? Usually, she'd always have some time to spare when it comes to spending time with her cousins.

But nowadays she's so occupied with more ‘pressing matters,’ or so she claims.

Apparently, Sarah not only wanted to spend time with Victoria - but also wanted to get to the bottom of why she's been so busy lately.

When she arrived in Pomefiore, she soon got her answer.

Sarah felt her breath catch in her throat. An unsettling feeling washed over her, and Sarah had the distinct feeling that she wasn't alone.

Suddenly, she saw an arrow fly at her.

Startled, Sarah unsheathed her sword and sliced the wooden end of the arrow in half before it could pierce her.

A soft sigh was heard. Sarah whipped her head toward the direction of the sound. “Who's there?” she demanded.

“You're awfully paranoid, aren't you?” Aldrich emerged from the darkness of the forests, a bow in his hands with a quiver on his back.

Sarah lowered her sword but didn't lower her guard alongside it. “Who….?” she couldn't get the full question out, but Aldrich knew exactly what she was asking.

His expression was a smile - one that didn't quite reach his eyes. “Aldrich,” he said. “Aldrich Edelweiss.”

That name feels familiar. Sarah thought, trying to pinpoint where exactly she had heard of that name before.

And then it hit her.

“You're…. Vivi-chan's boyfriend?”

Aldrich let out a chuckle. “Oh my, ‘Vivi-chan’? I assume you mean my darling savior, yes?”

“.... Savior?” Sarah tensed up a bit. Why is this guy so unsettling to talk to?

“I assume you're one of her many cousins,” Aldrich approached her, gripping his bow a little tighter. “Sarah Marigold.”

She nodded curtly, trying to avoid showing any signs of unsettled emotions.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough. “Oh dear, are you perhaps afraid of me?” Aldrich chuckled. “Quite perplexing of a predicament for you, indeed. Do tell, what does a suspect such as yourself find so intimidating about me?”

“Listen, you're not making a fragment of sense,” Sarah stepped back a little.

Aldrich shrugged, but even something as casual as that still put Sarah on edge. “I get that a lot.”

Before Sarah could say anything else, Aldrich hummed. “I would've thought that my savior's relatives would have a lot more decorum,” he huffed in disappointment. “I suppose I was wrong, in that regard. It's actually rather unfortunate, considering how my darling savior does everything with such grace and poise.. And yet here you are, having the manners of a witch.”

“Excuse me?” Sarah's eyes narrowed as she clenched her fists.

“You heard me,” The tone in Aldrich's voice shifted. “You have no sense of decorum, and yet you're of noble blood. Most unfortunate, is it not? It almost feels as though you'd stick out like a sore thumb during gatherings between nobles.”

He dropped the bow, stomping on it so hard that it snapped in half, and walked closer to Sarah.

“And it appears to me that you don't even deserve to simply be called a ‘suspect’...” his eyes squint in irritation.

In response, Sarah felt her nails dig into her flesh while her fists clenched. What the hell is this guy on?

A hum was heard, forcing Sarah out of her trance. Aldrich walked past her, not even bothering to pick up the broken bow.

“I'm truly disappointed in you,” Aldrich told her, making Sarah whip her head in his direction.

He turned his back, smiling a bit too unsettlingly.

“All you ever turned out to be was a heretical witch.”

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

“I have not a clue what you're on about, Sarah.”

“Vivi-chan, I'm gonna be completely honest,” Sarah hesitated for a moment. “But I think you're boyfriend is batshit insane.”

“Oh?” Victoria arched a brow. “And what makes you think that, Sarah?”

“Vivi-chan, you have to admit, that guy's figure of speech is…. Questionable,” she shuddered while looking back at the memory. “A-And he called me a witch!”

Victoria giggled in endearment while continuing to embroider. “Ah, classic Aldrich….” her voice was but a gentle whisper. The sheer tenderness of the way she said his name drove Sarah up the wall.

Especially considering that, by her accounts, Aldrich was far from endearing.

“Haven't Kiara and Cosette talked about him to you before?” Sarah asked.

Victoria nodded slowly, concentrating on the golden needle she was using to embroider a camellia - Aldrich's favorite flower.

“They have,” she confirmed. “But as I have told you before: ‘I have not a clue on what you're on about’. There's nothing to be concerned about regarding Aldrich's behavior.”

That was a lie. She knew that Sarah knew that.

But why would she not do anything about his behavior?

Speak of the devil, Aldrich soon approached them, his recently polished boots clicking against the floor. Upon seeing him, Victoria smiled softly - whereas Sarah tensed up.

“My darling savior!” Aldrich exclaimed joyfully. But that smile on his face soon faltered upon seeing Sarah next to Victoria. “And….. Sarah.”

Victoria tilted her head. “I didn't think you two knew each other.”

“Well, we have, actually,” his smile didn't reach his eyes. “She was….. Interesting, to say the least.”

Sarah hummed awkwardly. I could say the same for you, you fucking maniac….

It didn't take long for her to get back up on her feet and give Victoria an apologetic look. “Sorry, Vivi-chan…. But uh,” she sent a look at Aldrich. “I suddenly remembered that I have an errand to run.”

Victoria nodded in understanding. “Understood,” she waved Sarah goodbye, and without another word, continued to embroider. Not even bothering to bat an eyelash when Aldrich took Sarah's place next to her.

“I never saw you as much of an embroiderer,” Aldrich said, revealing the box he had been hiding and placing it upon his lap. “Quite unexpected, actually. A shame that I've never seen you do this before, my darling…”

Victoria hummed in response. “I was always an embroiderer, dear. You just happen to not catch me when I do such things.”

He stifled a chuckle. “I see,” he leaned his head against her forearm. “I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Y'know, so I can see my darling savior doing something utterly adorable.”

Even something as simple as that would've felt unsettling to the students that could hear them. No one had expected Aldrich to fall for Victoria.

Not even Victoria herself.

But did she mind it? Not in the slightest.

She chuckled softly, finally completing her little piece of embroidery. “Well, you needn't wait longer than you have to,” she handed the finished product to him.

Aldrich stared at it, deeply mesmerized by the level of design. Shortly after, he soon realized that it was his handkerchief.

The one that he let her borrow when they first met - and the one she didn't bother to return.

There were two intricate designs at the corners of it. Camellias - his favorite flower.

And hydrangeas - Victoria's favorite flower. Above both, were their initials.

‘A.E’

‘V.S’

His silence was so prevalent that Victoria was under the impression that he didn't like it. She was ready to take it back.

Until Aldrich caught her wrist with his free hand. His gaze was no longer on the handkerchief.

And now on her.

“My dear….”

Victoria's lips parted ever so slightly.

“.... Aldrich?”

Upon hearing her utter his name, he smiled, gently removing his grip on her wrist to gently caress her cheek.

“My savior…” there were practically hearts in his eyes. “So beautiful, so fancifully beguiling, so perfect.. To think, someone such as I had been blessed by the face of a living saint…”

His other hand - the one holding the handkerchief - was now on the other side of Victoria's face. Aldrich stared up at her, adoration filling every piece of the gaze he gave her - As if to say that he couldn't help but feel that way to her. And only her.

Smiling, Victoria mirrored Aldrich's actions as she, too, held his face with her gentle yet slightly calloused hands.

“To be flattered in such a way by an Edelweiss prince,” she giggled, pressing her pointer finger to his nose. “I'm honored.”

Aldrich's smile widened, his face not-so-subtly leaning into her touch. He didn't say anything about it, but he moved the box to the side, so as to avoid dropping it as he relished in her gentle touch.

She glanced at the box, her gaze off of Aldrich for only a dozen seconds or so, and knew immediately that what was inside the box was one of Aldrich's…. ‘Gifts’.

The box was wrapped firmly, and the ribbons that were tied around it were almost certainly made from Edelweiss silks. But no matter how entrancing the design was to her, Victoria didn't fail to notice the droplets of blood on the box.

Small, but not small enough. Certainly not big enough to fit something like a pair of lungs…..

…. But certainly not small enough to not fit a heart.

That was her assumption. She was sure of it. Returning her gaze to Aldrich, her eye softened whilst she lifted his chin. For even the briefest of moments, Aldrich felt his breath hitch, and his cheeks soon dusted with pink.

“Aldrich, my prince….” Her gaze was soft, tender - Yet unwavering. “What is inside that gift of yours, might I ask?”

A soft chuckle left his lips. “My, dear, you and I both know what is inside, by now.”

“For you are someone anyone would steal hearts for.”

That confirmed her suspicions in more ways than one. If it had been anyone else, they'd have run like their life depended on it.

But this was Victoria. Someone who sees the flaws in a person, and accepts them for what they are.

And maybe that was the reason Aldrich adored her so. Because she saw his antics for what they were and welcomed them with open arms.

Victoria hummed, her smile and gaze on Aldrich becoming all the more soft.

Silence was what filled the comforting atmosphere around them. No matter how twisted, how warped both of their mindsets were, one thing remained absurdly clear:

Adoration was what both of them felt. No one knew how they met, nor how they came to fall into each other's arms. And that was okay - So long as, at the end of the day, they find themselves wrapped around one another's arms once more.

“My savior,” Aldrich suddenly spoke, his head now resting on Victoria's chest. “What made you come to love me? To adore me so much, you can't help but spoil me with little to no signs of it ending?”

Wanting to toy with him ever so slightly, she cocked her head to the side, feigning confusion. “I don't quite get what you mean,” she said in a tone of affectionate mockery.

He took the bait for what it was, a knowing smile on his face. “What made you love me,” he began reiterating.

“So devotedly? What was it about me that had entranced you so? What could I have possibly done, in all these many many weeks of being with you, to bring such a loving yet adoring gaze out of the set of sapphires that rest in the sockets of your eyes?”

He let her ruminate on those words, looking deep into her eyes as her lips parted, just as she was about to respond.

Before she could even say anything, Victoria leaned in, pressing her lips against his. And even though he didn't get an immediate response to his question, Aldrich held her face once more, wanting to prolong the kiss for as long as they could all until their lips parted for air.

“.... To answer your question,” she spoke finally, a smile dawning on her face. One that felt different - the kind of different where it made Aldrich's heart melt.

“It all started….” she drawled on the sentence, leaning her forehead against his.

“.... When you joined my serenade.”

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Taglist

🥥 @starry-night-rose • @windbornearchon • @authoruio • @nem0-nee • @fumikomiyasaki • @sakuramidnight15

@revivemyreverie • @revolllutionary • @twsted-princess • @spadecentral • @celiica • @geminiiviolets • @twsted-princess • @oseathepebble • @vaporvipermedia • @vivaresmala • @crazyyanderefangirlfan