#not that I even expect an apology from any customer ever

[icedteaandoldlace]

One of the weirdest flavors of rude customer interactions you can have is when there's the customer who's just an absolute ass from the moment they walk in, snapping at every turn, getting huffy and rolling their eyes all dramatically when you ask them to repeat something, or ask a very normal question that you need an answer to before you can help them any further ("And what's the address you'd like to have this delivered to?" for example). And there's also the person they walked in with, usually a spouse or otherwise significant other, and you're a little wary of them, too, at first, 'cause you're not sure if they're both grouches or not, because the first one is doing most of the talking. But then you see them react to their partner's bitchiness, and for a moment, you wonder if you should feel sorry for them, having to live with this person. But then eventually, the first person sighs a little, and apologizes to their partner, and explains that they're just hungry, or stressed, or tired, or whatever, and the partner says something soft and reassuring in return—and no one says jack shit to you, the person the majority and the worst of the bitchy attitude has been unleashed on. They'll apologize to their partner right in front of you for treating them not half as bad as they've been treating you, but there's no apology directed at you, not even a sidelong glance your way as they're apologizing to their partner, not even their partner apologizing on their behalf—not even a slight improvement in the way they treat you afterward. They're both clearly capable of recognizing this behavior as inappropriate, they just don't give a damn how it may make you feel, because servers and cashiers and all manner of other customer service workers just aren't people, apparently.

[divinesolas]

The lady of Volantis | 1k celebration

Summary: Based on a request; You have been betrothed to Jacaerys for years now and you two have never exactly been close. He does not expect to see you anytime soon after your first couple meetings, but when Lucerys trial is happening you are suddenly in the keep. What are you doing there? Are you to be trusted?

w.c: 22.3k (i know... crazy right)

c.w: i will not include any bc they would include major spoilers for this fic,, all ill say is this includes things about Volantis culture, an alternative timeline, inaccurate westerios history, COLD READER and smut (a fair share of it). nothing too dark bc that's just not my style but be warned.

Jacaerys has been betrothed for years now. He has only seen the mysterious lady of volantis a couple times now. When her father answered lord corlys call for help with the stepstones with the terms that corlys offer them something in return. They knew they had nothing that could be even close in value to the mighty powers of volantis but in a desperate effort they offer him, Prince Jacaerys velaryon, heir to the heir. They expect volantis to say no, what good would having good relations with Westeros do, they have control of the largest trades and market in the world.

After no response for a good while they expect them to just have disregarded the letter and have given up. But when one day over 20 sea ships show up the flags of volantis on them and a young girl trails behind her father who introduces himself as the man they were writing to they were over the moon. They had only really got to meet the girl one time before she went off to join the effort in stepstones though she did pop by a few times they were few and far between. Her father had warned them his daughter was a bit cold. He gave no reason as to why she was the way she was other than that was just how she was raised to be.

Jacaerys attempted to play nice with his betrothed but due to her cold, off putting personality nothing truly came from it. Instead all she would do was stand and watch him, barely saying more than a few words to him. Every time was the same routine, she would come and leave, leaving jacaerys to worry for the future. He is well aware most marriages don’t contain any love, but he had atleast hoped the two of them could be friends but it seemed like the lady of Volantis wanted nothing to do with him. He had not expected to see her for many years in the future, For their marriage arrangement is not meant to take place until after rhaenyra ascends the throne.

“it is an honor to see you.” The girl nods, still an ever blank look on her face as she grips a square wooden box in her hand. The queen glances at rhaenyra and daemon who manage to hide their shock at seeing the girl in the keep. “It is a nice surprise to see you again y/n.” Another acknowledging nod is the only thing the younger women does before thrusting her hands that were holding the wooden box towards the queen. Alicent looks at it in shock and hesitantly reaches her hands out and grabs in from her. “A gift.”

Shaky hands slide open the box and a light gasp follows suit. A completely custom cyvasse set sets inside the box, alicents hand reach inside and pick up one of the pieces, the dragon, and brings it closer to her face to admire it. “Hand carved and painted.” She looks back towards the younger girl. Her heart warmed at the gesture. Nobody had gotten her a gift so nice, ever. “This is so lovely.” “I had heard you enjoyed to play.” A small real smile graces alicents face as she lightly nods, “Do you enjoy to play?” “You are asking if a citizen of Volantis enjoys playing cyvasse.”

It was not a question, as volantis was the origin place of cyvasse it should be no question she a member of one of the royal families of volantis would play. Embarrassment fills alicent and she places the piece back in the box swiftly, closing it up and turning away placing it on a table. “Of course my apologizes i have no clue what i was thinking.” She maybe expects some sly comment from the girl or maybe no response at all, maybe her scoffing or tsking but instead when she looks back over she sees the girl bring her head towards the ground and twist her foot as if she was squishing a bug. “I was jesting…”

A simple ahh is all that can escape alicents mouth as she looks away bashfully. She hadn't expected her to be so, kind? maybe that was not the right word and it certainly did not fit the look of the warrior that stood in front of her. Laced in black leather covering even up to her neck down to the soles of her feet. The only color added from the silver chains wrapped around her legs attached to the belt loops on her waist, a sword at her hip so close to her hands she could whip it out in mere seconds, her boots look so heavy like she could squish someone’s skull should she want to.

"ziry iksos unexpected naejot ūndegon ao.” (it is unexpected to see you) A voice cuts through the rooms now awkward air and Alicent just watched as the girls head rises and she's back to standing sharply and coldly as she was mere moments ago. "Skoros issi ao doing kesīr hāedar?” (what are you doing here girl?)

“Iksos ziry pirta hen issa naejot māzigon.” (is it wrong of me to come.) Alicent, though she had no clue what they we’re saying, had never seen someone speak and look at the rouge prince so bravely. If any man we’re in her place they certainly would not even be looking him in the eyes but you do not look at him with fear, if anything you just look at him with annoyance straightening your shoulders and you fold your hands behind you back.

“Skorkydoso gōntan ao gīmigon naejot māzigon?” (how did you know to come?) rhaenyra by his side pinches his torso and tries to shoot him a look but his gaze is locked onto you. All the girl does is shrug and turns her attention back to alicent. Daemon is not dumb. He knows this is all timed too well, arriving to the keep the exact day they arrived here. She must have begun her trip way before they had even received word of the trial. He stares daggers into her but she does not look back towards him, rolling her her neck as alicent attempted to come up with something to say.

“I believe i should attend to some things.” With a bow of her head and a goodbye she grabs the box from the table and before she opens the door she turns back to the younger girl, “We should play.” She does not expect a response from the girl, so when you nods a delighted look graces her face before she turns and leaves. Right as the door closes her face falls as she's greeted by a squire who was sent by her father to grab her, most likely interested in speaking about the volantene girl.

The three stand in silence for a bit. Daemons gaze has no let up and rhaenyra readjusts awkwardly. Despite the fact that she does not wish for him to question her so she has her own curiosities. “I hope you faired well on your trip, you must have been traveling for a long time.” The implications of her words are clear, if the volantene girl is annoyed she does not show it on her face instead she merely blinks a nods. “It was well.” “We have not heard from you since last year, we are merely surprised to see you now of all times.” “i was on my way to visit dragonstone, heard talks of you all traveling here. i came here instead.” You say nothing that is not necessary, no sweet talk no sugar coating just exactly what you are asking no more. Its a believable story if it is to be true, but daemon is still clearly restless. “And what would bring you to dragonstone?”

“I was planned to return back to the fight but i heard what happened to lord corlys, wanted to make a stop at dragonstone before driftmark.” Despite your young age you were more than useful to the effort. You and corlys had even formed a bond, you grew to care for the man and when you left the field for personal affairs you were horrified to hear of his condition. “Have you spoken to rhaenys?” “i am yet to see her.”

Suddenly a guard comes into the room and looks at daemon and rhaenyra. “the king is ready to see you.” The two stand and say their goodbyes to you before they leave. Out in the hallway they discuss to themselves. “Gaomagon ao pendagon issa…?” (Do you think she is..?) Daemon does not look to rhaenyra instead keeping his gaze forward, eyes glazed in though as he clenches his jaw. “daor.” (no) She would not come for no reason. The girl he knew would immediately return back to the battlefield after hearing of corlys absence. It is rather strange for her to instead make the trip here instead.

In another room sits alicent, otto and Vaemond discussing tomorrows trial. “It does not matter if the next heir to driftmark is indebted to us. Not when Rhaenyra's first born son is about to marry into the most powerful family in all of Essos.” Ottos voice cuts Vaemond off quickly. “There is something that can be done.” The two of them look at alicent, “She holds a distain for them i can see it, there is no question. Maybe she can be convinced to,” she trails off looking away, “depart from the betrothal?” “If there was a greater thing she could be offer, im more than sure she would agree.”

“It is a bad idea.” Otto cuts, “If your theory is wrong then you could put all of us at risk.” He shakes his head, “I do not approve.” “I believe it is worth a shot.” Vaemond adds looking to alicent, “She is a tigress, she is easily swayed. They are all the same they wish for war, it is the reason why she is out on the field with my brother. She has no conquest anymore in Volantis.” Vaemond leans forward on the table and looks alicent directly in the eyes, “If there is to be a war. You will not win it with her on their side.”

The sun had finally begun to set but there was no rest for the dark haired prince who stood in the keep library, a maester on the other side of the table watching the young prince struggle to recite the valyrian. “Rūsīr māzigon kustikāne se…” (with hardships come strength and…) He bites his thumb and taps his foot as he thinks. He is sure he remembers the phrase, jacaerys mentally berates himself for being so stupid. He is to be the future king, the heir of the heir, how can he let himself be so careless with his studies. “kivio.” (promise)

The voice behind him causes him to turn around in shock.“syt konīr iksis daor drēje mijegon.” (for there is no true struggle without triumph) Soon enough you are standing in front of him and he gulps. He cannot believe you are here, not expecting to see you for many years from now. He puts a smile on his face all be it a weak one as you just stare at him. “gaomagon ao lo mazeman toliot?” (do you mind if i take over) You address the maester behind him who looks between the two of you nervously before nodding and leaving the room.

The two of you just stare at one another in silence for a bit. He takes this time to admire you, you have not changed much since the last time he saw you. It had been at least a year now since you've visited dragonstone and when he got to see you. Even when you did meet you certainly never met this close anyways he takes this time to admire you fully.

The blemishes on your face, if he looks towards your covered neck he can even see a scar the fades under the fabric, he's curious about it, how did you get it? Did it hurt? When did you get it? He wishes he could ask, too fearful of your reply. He cannot mess this arrangement up. It matters too much to not only his family, but to the safety of the realm and the safety of his mothers claim to the throne. No one would dare mess with the power of volantis and the free cities, he would never be able to forgive himself if he messed up what his family worked so hard to get. Especially since it seemed like you did not care for him much.

“You are still a toddler.” You are the one to break the silent are between them. He flushes with embarrassment and takes a step back, hitting the table lightly. “You’ve merely caught me at a bad moment.” You raise your eyebrows at him, a challenging look. He knows you do not believe him, “You lie to me.” He scratches the back of his neck, You're right. “I would never, my betrothed.” He is embarrassed and he hopes by playing the engagement card you will leave, as you seemingly have no interest in it, so he can wallow in his own humiliation alone. She just stares at him while he cracks a smile at her. He wants them to be civil, for her to atleast like him, he fears that won’t be the case. He sees how happy his mother and daemon are and he feels a pit of dread in his stomach, he wants a life like that. He knows it is rare for marriages in his life to be happy ones but he wants it.

Instead of leaving you simply stare at him for a moment longer, he notices a change in your eyes if it was for a split second before you round the table and eye the book on the table. “it is because you are trying to learn from that stupid book.” “It is a book of the Targaryen history.” She picks up the book and sharply closes it before he can stop stop her, his hand lift hanging in the air as she tosses the book away. “Exactly. Stupid book.” He opens and closes his mouth in an attempt to come up with a retort but he can’t say anything before you speak once more. “lets roleplay.”

If anyone saw you right now they would feel as though they were seeing a stranger. If he were to ask anyone else they would say they’ve never heard you speak as much as you were or even the look on your face, though it does not look too different from your normal one, was an unfamiliar one. He raises his eyebrows at you, “what?” “the best way to learn anything is to practice.” “which is why i was reading from the book.” “The book is nonsense. you will learn nothing from it.” “It is how my mother was taught and my ancestors before me.” “Then they are stupid.” He groans in frustration and looks at her with a blank face. “You do not learn swordsmanship from reading you do not learn how to stitch from reading you learn from real experience.” He cannot say you are wrong.

As he says nothing you continue, “Lets say i am a jewelry shop keeper, and you are a traveler visiting my shop interested in buying something.” she presses her hands against the table and tilts her head at him. “sȳz?” (good?) a chill runs down his spine as she stares at him and a warm feeling fills his stomach. He is so screwed, but he just nods.

“rytsas skorkydoso glaesā tubī?” (hello welcome how are you today?)

“Iksan sȳrī kirimvose” (I am well thank you)

“iksis konīr mirros iksā jurnegēre syt?” (is there something you are looking for?)

You watch him struggle for a moment, unsure if he is trying to decipher your words or if he is trying to figure out what to say. He is shocked you are so patient, simply staring and watching him, not pushing him to answer.

“iā rudhy syt ñuha aderī naejot sagon ābrazȳrys.” (a present for my soon to be wife)

He watches your face change for a split second to one of shock then back down to neutral. With his confidence he takes a moment to admire your gloved hands, covered with rings over the leather. He imagines them running down his chest, running through his hair, maybe gripping on it as he pleasures you in ways hes only ever read about, maybe even wrapped around his-

You snap in his face and his head lifts back to look at you alarmed but your just looking at him blankly. “umbagon lēda nyke.” (stay with me) He would. He will. For as long as you asked him too. You sigh and roll your neck he watches the scar as it shows more of itself before disappearing once more. He shakes his head, he needs to snap out of it, he was being foolish getting lost in his thoughts, and especially since his thoughts were so,,, deplorable. He is thankful you cannot read minds as you would surely slap him across the face and never speak to him again if you knew he was thinking so terribly.

“gaomagon emā mirros qantre jaelā?” (do you have something specific you want?)

you.

“Nyke jaelagon nyke gōntan yn eman daor skoros ziry would hae.” (i wish i did but i have no clue what she would like)

She pauses for a moment and stares at him with narrow eyes. When he says nothing other than shrug she rolls her eyes, turning her head away.

“ābrar hae mirros” (women like anything)

“jaelan naejot jiōragon mirros ziry jorrāelagon” (i want to get something she would love)

“ivestragon nyke nūmāzma zirȳla pār.” (tell me about her then)

“gaoman daor gīmigon olvie yn nyke gīmigon issa kostōba se pazavor, se rovaja run naejot nyke iksis bona issa biare.” (i do not know much but i know she is strong and loyal, the biggest thing to me is that she is happy)

The air between them gets hot and he cant decipher the look in her eyes as she stares at him. He fears he’s upset her. The way her eyes and face remain unmoving or maybe he said the words wrong and she’s misinterpreting what he meant. His eyes stay locked on hers as she trails around the table to be standing right next to him once more. he opens his mouth to apologize but she begins to speak before he can say a word. “gaomagon daor tepagon qrīdrughagon aōha dōna udra sīr easily syt naejot qūvy ilagon se qēlossās se se jēdar syt ao”

His eyes crinkle and she has a content look on her face, seemingly happy he has no clue what she is saying to him. “what did you say?” Its eating at him. unlike when he hears his parents speak he does not mind much when he doesn’t know what they're talking about. even when lucerys is doing better in practice than him he does not mind it much though he grows annoyed at himself. But with you, he needs to know what you’re saying. He is latched onto your every word your every move. It makes himself sick to think about the fact he’s missed something you’ve said with the limited words you ever say. He’s shocked you’ve even talked to him this much today.

She just shakes her head and takes a few steps back. Her stoic nature has returned and she's back to not even looking at him. “It is getting late. You should have dinner.” He looks out the window and is shocked to see the had set and it had begun to rain outside. When did the sun even set? We’re they truly here for so long? He turned back to question her but she was already gone and the book placed back in front of him. The only reason he knows she was ever even here is the faint smell of her perfume in the air. Like a ghost she had up and left. Maybe she was a ghost, or merely a figment of his imagination to toy with him. He takes a couple deep breaths until the lingering smell of her is gone before he picks back up the book and leaves.

He clutches the book tightly to his chest to suppress the pounding of his heart and the ache that begins to bleed through his skin. He tries to mumble what she said to himself to try and figure out what you meant. Hes able to catch a few words, stars and the sky but he cant make sense of it all. he clenches his jaw in frustration as he returns to his chambers, placing the book down on his table and gripping the sides of it with his hands. This must be a challenge from her. She’s clearly toying with him. Maybe she did truly dislike him. But then why would she help him today? or can you even call it help? she didn’t exactly teach him anything. he grows irritated at the thought that his afternoon was wasted but then he realizes something. He had no clue he himself could even say or understand any of those words until she proved to him that he could.

Before he can even dwell on it he’s being called for dinner. On his way there he wonders if you’ll join them. His hopes are crushed when he walks in the room and you aren’t there. Greeting his parents quickly before greeting baela for the first time, the two share a friendly hug before sitting. “Did you know lady y/n is here jacaerys?” He almost gets whiplash from the way his head whips up to look at daemon. “yes i got the chance to see her earlier.” He hopes he does not seem too quick with his response. He takes a sip of his wine as daemon taps his fingers on the table in thought. He can never tell what daemon is thinking, though he doubts even his mother can tell what he’s thinking. “i am yet to meet her i am looking forward to it.” Baela turns to jacaerys, “Do you like her?”

Now this question really makes him pause. He has no clue. He is sure he does, in some way, but he barely knows her. Maybe that does not matter, especially in their political situation. It is purely a political marriage he does not need to like her. But he does, maybe it stems from him not wanting to disappoint his mother but he likes her, he wants things to work with her. but a man who is simply doing this just to keep his mother happy would not write her letters while she was out fighting even when he would not receive a response, he would not be overthinking what gifts to give her because sure he could go out and get her the most expensive gem in the world or the most finest silk but she is not the type of lady to like that type of stuff and this man would be imagining her underneath him withering with pleasure. Well, maybe they are but not a man like him.

“She is pleasant.”

The raging storm outside leads most of the hallways empty as people try to remain dry. but solely in one hallway sits a girl sitting with her thighs clenched tightly to keep the torch she has lit ablaze steady as her hands cup in a prayer. Its dead quiet expect for the storm outside and the quiet mutters leaving her lips, until footsteps walk down the hall and the spot next to her grows warm with a body sitting there.

“Lord of Light, shine your face upon us.” the person next to you says nothing as you continue in your prayer. “Light your flame among us, R'hllor. Show us the truth or falseness of this man. Strike him down if he is guilty, and give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom.” “For the night is dark and full of terrors” the person next to you finishes. A long looming silence hangs in the air as you do not dare move your position. “Are you going to say anything?”

“I thought you were praying.” You finally look up at the women besides you who gives you a curious look. “Is it impolite that i i finished it for you?” “No it is preferred, lady rhaenys.” “have you always been a follower of the lord of light?” “I have been visiting the temple of the lord of light before i could even walk, it would be strange if i were not.” She hums and simply stares at the storm. “it is rather cold, do you not fear of getting sick?”

“i have been through worse weather at stepstones.” There are a few more beats of silence, it is so quiet you are even convinced for a moment she will not say anything else but she begins to speak after awhile. “What would my husband think of all this?” You turn to rhaenys and tilt your head. Rhaenys laughs and shakes her head, “You are the first person i am speaking to that has had a close direct contact with my husband for the last couple years, i wish to know what you think he would say.” You do not say anything for a long moment, your gaze being stuck on the flames still sat in your lap. “I think he would say you are all absurd for thinking he is going to die from this.” Rhaenys snorts but says nothing as she waits for your next words. “But he would not want his brother to succeed him.” It is not as though she is shocked to hear the answer. Especially when it was something she already knew herself.

“why do you think so?” She wants to know why, no she needs to. Just to clear her head maybe, give her some justice in her choice, rhaenyra's offer about marrying rhaena to lucerys still looming over her head. “because his brother is a fool.” She has no clue whether they are his words or hers but it does matter much as in a funny way she seems content with the answer. or maybe she was already content with her choice and needed the extra push.

She watches as the girl stares into the flames aimlessly. “can you see things in them?” “that is the priestess job not mine. Though i can see flashes. i am no were near skilled enough to make anything of it.” “it is a shocker to hear you admit you are not skilled enough at something.” “I am honest.” she nods though you don’t look in her direction. “What do you see?” “Myself mostly. sometimes he is with me.” “who?” There is no answer from the girl which causses rhaenys to sit up straight. “Jacaerys?” A light hum is the only answer she is given but it is all she needs before she lets out a surprised scoff. “i thought you hated the man.” You rip your gaze away form the flames and look at her with a confused look. “i hate him?” “that’s what everyone says dear.” rhaenys looks at her.

“Do you not hate him?” she looks away and stares back into the flames, her face now solemn and she watches the flame slowly wither away to nothing. No more words are said between the two of them but they don’t need to be as rhaenys gets up. “i bid you goodnight.” Even if you wanted to reply you are not given the opportunity to as she quickly turns away from you and leaves. You are once again left alone but this time you cannot distract yourself with prayers. You lean your head back against the cold wall behind you, hoping to let your mind be flooded with mindless water like the grounds are outside.

You cannot fail this. For there is far too much at risk. The words of the priestesses ring in your ears. This is too important. the gnawing feeling in your chest grows as you think of him. Failure is not an option. As much as you wish you could sit and wallow here for the night in your thoughts there are still things you must get done. Still people you must talk to. Maybe you should go to sleep earlier for tomorrow will make or break everything. But you know thats not an option. You get up for the first time in two hours and head towards the opposite direction of your room, for there is something you must do first.

Dinner has finally ended and jacaerys is more then eager to go to his room and take a nice hot bath before he goes to bed but he is instead walking lucerys to his room who looks like he’s gonna throw up. “I am nervous.” Jacaerys sighs and grabs his shoulders making lucerys look straight at him. “It shall be fine brother. Mother will take care of it.” Lucerys looks at the floor, “So i am making it difficult for her.” “No. family is about taking care of one another. It may be tough but it is worth it. because we are family.” Lucerys take a deep breath and opens his mouth as though he wishes to say something but he simply shakes his head before whispering a goodnight and closing his door.

Jacaerys lets out a shudder and closes his eyes for a moment. He feels bad he cannot do more for lucerys. He cannot truly reassure him everything will be alright because in his mind and how his parents talk of the hightowers he is convinced tomorrow will not work on in their favor. He stands in his spot for far too long, His mind far away from his body, He does not know what will happen and that scares him. What does happen if driftmark is taken from lucerys? What happens to his mothers claim? He feels as though this is his fault though the more rational side of him tells him this was something completely out of his hands.

He knows what he is. it is no secret. He knew. But there is nothing he can do about it. He must live with it. It does not matter what anyone else thinks. He runs his now sweaty hands down the front of his tunic before turning and walking away from lucerys room. He cannot stress about this now or else he will not be able to sleep. He is not paying attention in front of him so when hands press on his chest to prevent him from moving he gasps and takes a step back. “My lady.” He feels like he’s imagining you. Maybe he thought about you a bit too much he’s starting to see things. You just blankly stare at with your eyebrow raised. His stress must be showing on his face. he sighs and runs his hands down his face. “I apologize i was lost in thought.”

He had thought you were waiting around for him to apologize to you. “you should not be upset. what is it now.” He grows irradiated. His face turns anger and his blood begins to boil. You were mocking him. it is the way you say it, the monotone voice you hold makes his skin itch. The cherry on top is the fact that you roll your eyes. His jaw clenches and begins to speak through his teeth. “i am sorry i am not allowed to be upset my lady. I know you hold your own anguishes against me but please save it for another day. Goodnight.”

He swiftly moves around you and does not look back as he storms off to his room. He cannot believe himself. Deluding himself into thinking the two of you could even be civil. You don’t like him. That much is clear to him now. He does not notice the fact that you have not moved a single step. There is no noise in the hallway it is as if you are not even breathing. For the first time all day you truly let you face fall. Fingers twitching at you side as if you wished to reach your hand out and grab him but he is already to far away. You have messed it up. of course.

You don’t know how long you’re standing there until a hand touches your shoulder and you turn your head. “Are you alright?” You immediately straighten back up and no one would have even known you we’re frowning before now that your face has been set back to neutral. “I am alright my queen.” “Are you lost?” No. “Yes. I seemingly have lost my way.” She offers to walk you and you finally fully get a good look at her. She is in her nightdress and you eye the box you had given her earlier in her hands. She notices your gaze and perks up. “ah in truth i had actually head to your room to look for you. It is late but, are you up for a game?”

Jacaerys attempts to contain his anger as he asks for the coldest bath he can have that night. They do not question him as they see him furiously unbutton and tear at his clothes. He does not even hiss as he enters the tub. His blood still boiling hot and the cold bath does nothing to soothe him. “You are dismissed.” “But my prince-” “I am capable of cleaning myself.” The servant bows before stating he will leave his night clothes on his bed before he swiftly leaves. For the first time today he is alone with his thoughts for the first time today. he leans down and submerges himself low enough in the water until his nose is just barely above the water.

He is sure the water is warming up quickly because of how hot his skin is right now. He does not even know why he is so annoyed. He does not know you. You do not know him. Maybe he is annoyed at himself for attempting to put in an effort that is not going anyway, maybe it is due to the fact that he is going to be stuck with you for the rest of his life. He doesn’t know. Maybe he is annoyed that he is so enthralled by you. Were you always so inconsiderate? He should have known, gods you never even answered his letters or even so much as tried to speak to him before today.

The stress of lucerys trial and his annoyance with you all builds and all he can feel is a pure ache. Throbbing and aching and throbbing. Fuck when did he get hard? He stares down at his errection with furrowed brows. His hot blood boiled until it all spilled down to his cock he guessed. He throws his head back in anger. Maybe he should just ignore it. He should call a servant in and ask him to throw as much ice as he can possibly take into the tub.

Or maybe he just needs a good stress relief. He is a man and tomorrow will certain be a tough day and he will be overthinking. Maybe he just need to get it out now? He sits all the way up and eyes his throbbing dick angerly. He rarely does this. His sex drive is not high enough where he gets hard everyday but every once and awhile a guy has to relieve himself. He leans his head back to lay against the edge of the tub and closes his eyes. hands sliding down his chest before they settle on his balls. He lets out a sigh of relief as he fondles them lightly in his hands, his thumb rubbing circles on the sensitive skin.

Suddenly the smell of a familiar perfume fills the air. His movements do not halt but his pleasure is increased when it begins to feel like a second set of hands lay over his, adding harder pleasure to his thumbs. He lets out a couple puffs of air and its almost as if he can feel the another hot breath drifting onto his face. His eyes flutter open slowly and he sees you. Staring at him how you were in the library and he whines, “please… y/n.” As if he is high on your smell he feels as though his hands are being guided by yours, they slide from the base of his dick to the tip causing him to curse and clench his jaw as his thumbs are instead pressed against his tip, rubbing in small circles.

He presses his lips together tightly to stop himself from letting out a loud moan. He wants to bring one of his hands up to his mouth to silence himself but it feels like their stuck where they are. Your hands holding his down tightly. “Jacaerys.” He can hear you, smell you, feel you. Its as if your hands have switched and he can feel the harsh leather your hands are covered with. “Please y/n i cant take it please.” Finally sliding down from his tip and down back to the base, it slides back up slowly, her pointer finger is tracing along one of the veins, this continues like a slow painful torture until each and every single vein has been drawn and pressed against the skin, Jacaerys does not know how loud he is, with every groan, hiccup, mumble and moan he can’t even be worried he’s getting louder and is instead completely and utterly consumed by you.

“y/n do not tease me please, please.” The hands suddenly begin to move faster and he throws his head so far back its basically outside the tub. His cock so painfully sensitive from the teasing he feels like he might burst any moment. But he needs something else, something more. Suddenly it's like he can feel your ghost lips kissing along his jaw, slowly working towards his ear, giving it a long lick and he shudders, “Jace.” He cannot take it, his balls begin to ache and he can feel an overwhelming pressure build in his stomach. “I need you y/n” Suddenly a long lick on his collarbone is what has him shaking and moaning out your name while white webs flood into the now very very very dirty bath water.

The only sounds that can be heard now are the light swaying of water and his deep heaving breaths. After many moments he finally lifts his head and slowly opens his eyes, blinking slowly he sees no one in front of him. Of course it was not real. he lifts up his hands and feels how his arms and hands ache from how long he was working himself and there is no smell of you in the room. For a moment he is disappointed until clarity hits him and he's suddenly very quickly standing up, well as best as he can his legs begin to rapidly shake and he hisses as his dick is met with the cold air of the room severely overstimulated.

What had he done? It was a one time thing. It was merely his mind running amok. Yes that's it. He dries himself quickly and attempts to suppress down any thoughts he has. All of them. all he wants to do is slip into bed and fall asleep, acting like today never happened. If he was lucky she wouldn’t be at the trial. Maybe she would head to stepstones tomorrow and they would go back to being strangers until they must marry. Maybe she would die in the war, he ignores how much his chest aches at that, and they would never see each other ever again. He just wants to rid of himself of all his thoughts. He tosses and turns in bed, sleep alludes him, or maybe its his own fears that once he falls asleep he’ll dream of you.

The library you reside in is cold, devoid of all light other than the two candles lighting up the board in front of you and the occasional light from lightning striking outside. “It is rare i meet someone who is good competition.” Alicent is enjoying herself. a small smile on her face as she places down another piece. Aemond is always far too busy to play, Aegon obviously won’t play with her and helaena has no clue how to play. She watches you closely but you face is unmoving, leaning far back into your seat with you arms crossed in your lap all you do is dart your eyes around to look at the board.

When you say nothing in return she is not surprised and says nothing more until you move a piece on the board. “I’d like to ask you about something.” she twists one of the pieces in her hands, eyes flying back between the board and to you. You make no noise or even so much as look up at her like she takes this as her queue to continue. “What are your thoughts on your betrothal?” Though it only happens for a split second she catches it, You tense.

She believes she is right. You are unhappy with your betrothal. She watches as you stare at your dragon on the board, lifting on of your hands to twist it to face you. “It is a fine match.” She hums and nods, “agreed.” Though for the first time you look at her and raise your eyebrows at her. you know there's something more to this. She feels a chill run down her spine as you don’t take your eyes off her while she's moving another one of her pieces on the board. “I hope this does not offend you, however i am truly just curious, is there anything keeping you in this engagement?”

Your gaze does not waver nor do you move to move one of your pieces and she begins to pick at her nails, a pit forming in her stomach. “I do not understand.” “It is simply curiosity. and if you would stay, if there was no longer any political benefit?” Your gaze does not stray as you pick up a piece and place it on the board. “No more political benefit?” You trail off for a moment, she expects you to say there would be no point then or maybe something along those lines. “What political benefit is there for me now?” Alicent freezes and looks at you confused, “What?” You shrug and fiddle around with some of your pieces on the board. “Am i supposed to be getting something out of it?”

All alicent can do this blink. What did you mean? Were you trying to mock her? What did you mean what benefit were you getting? “Your future husband is to be king one day….” She watches as you scratch your jaw and move one of your pieces. “Ahh,,,,, I guess you’re right.” She looks down at the board, she sees the clear path in front of her and tries to suppress her smile, maybe you were not as good at this as she had though, purposefully taking longer to continue to speak to you.

“It would be better if a marriage had benefits i suppose, so no?” Alicent picks up one of her pieces and places it down. Maybe this is her opportunity, there is a small voice in the back of her head telling her this was a bad idea, it was her fathers voice, but she must try no matter what he says. She could be in danger or even worse children could be in danger.

She knows how dangerous and cruel the people of Volantis are. If there truly is to be a war if she does not gain her as an ally they are doomed. and worse they would be fighting against her family, so the punishment and pain she would inflict would be far worse. It would be treason.

“So, would you consider another option, should you be presented one?” She sees the look on your face and panics a bit but manages to remain calm, “Purely hypothetical of course.” “Like what?” “Say if i told you my son aemond remains unmarried.” “A second son compared to a future king? A ridiculous proposition.” For someone who just seemed to have no interest in the political side of things your attitude sure has changed.

“but what if he was not just a second son, but the prince regent to the king” You just blink. you would be blind to not get what she was referring. she fears you will confront her, ask her what she means by her implications, but she is good to remember you are not that type of person. “a prince regent is still not a king.”

“but what if your first daughter would be promised to the next king, your line on the throne after you.” more blinking. She doesn't know what you’re thinking, your face as blank as it always it. “simply just something to think about of course. If tomorrows trial goes well, maybe there could be something.” She begins to sweat under your blank stare. Maybe her father was right, this was a bad idea. You are going to declare war on her and her family for treason. But you say nothing at all for a good while. She decided against opening her mouth again in fear of ruining it more than she already has.

But you make do not open your mouth to speak, instead you just push yourself to stand up and her heart drops but you just place one of your pieces before snatching her dragon and placing it on her side of the board. “I shall think about it. Goodnight.” She simply watches as you leave the room before looking at the board in shock.

you had won.

He’s kissing you. All over your hot skin. Occasionally leaving a trail of his own saliva when he stays in one sport too long. He makes sure to keep his ear right next to your mouth to hear every little whimper and moan you let out. His hands running up and down your sides, you were wearing a red silk dress, a night gown if he had to guess. but he has no room in his mind to think about it as he slides his hands under your dress kneading your ass with his hands and uses his knees to push open your legs to slot himself between you, lifting up your dress to expose you, you weren’t wearing anything underneath it. His lips are surely going to be sore with the force he’s kissing you.

The two of your hips thrusting each others with fever even through his clothed pants he can feel your wetness soak his trousers and onto his hard cock. His lips leave yours and they begin to suck down your jaw to your neck. His hands sliding up to your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your nipples, feeling as they harden against his skin.

“my prince.” He ignores this at first. continuing his assault on your skin and the rhythm of your hips getting faster. “my prince.” but the voice gets louder and louder and louder until-

“my prince!”

Jacaerys eyes open and he shoots up. He is breathing heavy as if he just ran all the way from the north to dorne. He runs his hands down his face and he looks at his hands with disgust as he feels the amount of sweat.

fuck.

“my prince.”

“What is it?” He is basically snarling. He is furious he was woken up. He can feel his cock throbbing under the blanket as if he was on the brink of climax. The servant shakes at the dragon princes hard glare. “It is morning my prince, we must get you ready for morning fast.” His head whips to look at the window. The sky bright blue contrasting the stormy weather it had been last night. as if the storm had to happen last night for the sky to be blue. He runs his hands down his face and apologizes, “I'm so sorry, i had a bad dream.” the servant merrily nods with a grateful smile on his face before he begins to help jacaerys get ready for the day.

Jacaerys cock throbs under the cold water. “my prince if you need a few moments alone-” “I do not.” he spits out. He certainly cannot do what he did last night. As much as his hands itch to touch himself he knows he would only be greeted with images of you. He cannot allow that. The servant says nothing more for the rest of the morning, his hardness dies down a little through out his routine but he knows once he is alone his mind will begin to race once more.

So he is more than thankful you are not there when he joins his family. Though his mother mentions she had tried to invite you but apparently you were no where to be seen. Seemingly not having gone back to your room last night. He wishes he was relieved, that he were happy you were gone from him and he could not have to see you for a while. but he is not. He must be so annoyed about it even Joffrey asked him why he had such a sour face.

They all assume you have gone to stepstones, not believing you would be interested in staying for the trial. He says nothing in return. A thought pops up into his head. Maybe he had upset you, he had lost his temper with you last night, maybe that is why you had left. He tries not to dwell on it but a pit grows in his stomach, he does not wish to think about you any longer.

He does not expect you to be there. He had thought you left just like the rest of his family. But as his family was being led into the room he sees you already leaning against the wall near where his family was standing. He could see the way the people were looking and whispering about you. This must be the first time for many people in this room seeing her before, even seeing someone from Essos before. You do not seem to care as he expected. He can’t take his eyes off you. Instead of your black leather outfit you were wearing a completely grey leather outfit still paired with your large boots and silver chains. You have a dagger in your hands fiddling around with it not taking your eyes off of it.

He does not like you he is certain of it but then why can he not remove his gaze from you? why does he wish to go over to you and compliment you though he knows your response will be something like a nod? Has he ever even complimented you? He can’t remember. Maybe he wrote something in one of his letters. But why does it matter why should he complement you if you do not even care. Maybe he should do the right thing and go greet you despite his grievances.

Your gaze suddenly lifts and you're looking in his direction so he swiftly turns away to glance at lucerys who look's more nervous than ever. He wishes he could offer lucerys any sort of comfort but he has no clue what to say. It is certainly not because he is using all his willpower to not look at you. He can feel your stare, your burning gaze staring into the side of his face. He does not allow himself to look. he only does when he sees otto sit down on the throne and it is almost as if you were not just looking at him. backing to fiddling with you dagger, was it really your gaze he felt on him? He has no time to truly dwell on it, not when Vaemond begins to speak.

The trial begins without a hitch. Jacaerys find himself growing more and more irritated as the trial goes on. Vaemond’s voice and the backhanded insults Vaemond is insinuating about his mother anger him beyond belief. Daemon places his hand on jacaerys back to attempt to keep the young boy at bay. Daemon looks over at you and sees you spaced out, as if you were not even listening to the trial at hand., neither really was he if he was being truthful, he knew this trial would work on in his favor, whether he would have to pull out drastic measures or not.

“Why don’t we get the lady Maegyr’s opinion?” Daemon chuckles as he watches your head raise and look to Vaemond with your blank stare. “You are sure to know better than anyone else about my brothers wishes.” Every head in the room is turned to look at you now.

Alicent feels herself praying in her mind. You must take their side, they can’t risk you having aligned yourself with the blacks. She glances at otto who looks to her for a beat, she does not miss the awaiting look on his face. She knows he will be furious with her should you not side with them, she looks at you hopeful, praying to the seven, praying to the father the mother anyone who would listen to her.

Jacaerys watches as you push yourself off the wall and walk towards where Vaemond is standing, stopping for a moment to glance at jacaerys. He does not turn away this time, allowing himself to look at you. He is desperate, he worries as he knows your distain for him he fears that will transfer over to your feelings on this whole affair. He has a look of desperation as your gaze does not leave him, please he finds himself begging in his mind. You must defend them, his mother, his brother. Him. His fists clench at his sides and your gaze drops to look at them before you look back up one more time and walk away.

Standing in front of the throne the room is dead quiet, every person in the room eager to here what you have to say, anticipating it.

“I think this whole ordeal is ridiculous.” You stop to glance at alicent who looks at you with wide eyes, you can see her picking at the skin on her nails. You look back at Vaemond and sigh. “worst of all i think you are nothing than a power hunger pig who cares not of his brother nor his family but only of himself.” There's a couple gasps around the room and Vaemond opens his mouth to speak but you are quicker. Daemon feels rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief and places a hand over her chest.

“Dare i ask why you do not campaign for Baela to take driftmark? by westerios succession rules she would be next in line after him if you do truly disregard corlys’ true blooded named heir Lucerys Velaryon. For you are nothing but an old rotting man no kids, no wife yet you believe you are best choice for driftmark? yet not baela who has spent the last couple years of her life on driftmark under her grandmothers wing who, as of right now, is the proper ruler of driftmark and is more suited than you, a lone man who is closer to his own death day than he is to ever sitting on the driftmark seat.”

Vaemond's face turns to anger, his eye twitches at your words and he takes a step closer to you, his voice louder than before, “You dare speak to me like this?” “You say that as if you are someone to be reconned with. I am supposed to fear a second son you dare insult me, maybe that is the reason you remain unwed, for no one wishes to lay with a second son.” Alicent feels her heart drop to her stomach. It does not help that she feels Aegon chuckling at her words next to him. She does not dare look at her father, for she fears his reaction more than anything.

“How dare you?” “How dare i? how dare you? you dare put into question the legitimacy of the princess and even worse the legitimacy of her children. Ser laenor claimed those children as his who are we to question such an act. You? A weak old man who is so bitter and resentful he must campaign in a room full of more ignorant fools who believe this should even be a question in the first place. You should be hung for treason.”

Vaemond finds his body shaking with anger at the girls in front of him with her ever so calm demeaner, her words cold and calculated like she knew exactly what she was going to say before he had even called on her. He cannot control himself. “You are a lying deceitful monster who believes she is so righteous and strong. Yet i find it hard to believe there is a fate worse than marrying someone of his blood-” “You will hold your tongue!” The room which had begun to be filled with whispers and small chatter ceases completely at the girls outburst. Her face having a look that no one has ever seen from her. Anger. Vaemond takes a step back as if her voice had thrown him back. Everyone else in the room finds themself frozen in fear.

“You dare forget yourself i am first lady Y/n Maegyr of House Maegyr, one of the three triarchs of Volantis i am not someone who is below you, i am not some family member of yours, you will not dare speak another nasty word about him or i shall watch your blood pool on the ground by my blade.” Without another words you swiftly turn your back to him and make your way back to the pillar you were once leaning against, not sparing anyone else a glance and sliding down it to be sitting on the floor with a bored look. You do not pull out your dagger nor do you look to speak with anyone else, simply all you do is stare out into space.

Before anyone else can say a single word the king is announced and he is shockingly walking in. Jacaerys can't find himself to care much however. You are the only thing on his mind. You defended not only his mother but him. You did not get angry when Vaemond insulted your own honor but his. He attempts to will away his blood that begins to pump down south. Maybe you had just done it to keep up appearances, it would be wrong if you did not defend your betrothed.

Suddenly he is rushed with guilt. He had been so cruel to you last night, maybe it had been deserved but he should not have spoken to you like that. He will have to make it up to you somehow. An idea pops up in his head. He is so distracted he does not even flinch when daemon slices off Vaemond’s head, instead turning his head in your direction to see how you react. You don’t, as expected and you do not move even as the trial is called to an end. He finds himself moving without thinking.

You look up once you notice a shadow close around your vision and see him staring down at you, offering you his hand. You eye it for a moment before grabbing onto it and he helps you up. He watches as you use your free hand to dust off your pants briefly before looking back at him. “Thank you.” He wasn’t expecting you to say anything and merely nods, he feels as though the roles are reversed, he should be the one speaking not the one silent. You make no move to let go of his hand and he does not let go either. He does not want to let go. “Are you free this afternoon?”

He watches as you look at him wide eyed, he gives you a small smile, maybe he could use this as a way to apologize. But he watches as you look down at the floor and let go of his hand. “I find myself,,,,,” You trail off with an unsure look on your face, “preoccupied with other things this afternoon until the dinner tonight.” He takes this as a clear rejection and takes a step back. Maybe you truly did what you had done for your own benefit and he finds himself annoyed at himself. You probably were not even busy, you were probably just not interested in seeing him. “of course you are. Good day then.”

You are once again forced to watch him simply just walk away from you as you have once again messed things up and merrily sigh as you watch him walk off. As much as you would like to spend the afternoon with him you have other things you must do. Things you cannot afford to miss. He will understand. But as you walk around out you begin to think about the words he had said to you last night. ‘I know you hold your own anguishes against me’ or even when rhaenys had asked you if you hated him, has you crinkling your eyes. What had they meant by that? You let out a sigh and continue walking through the streets with your hood up, You have things to do, people to meet, you will dwell on this later.

Dinner time has finally arrived and everyone had gotten into their seats, even viserys had been escorted into the room but one chair remained empty. Your chair. “The lady is no where to be found my queen.” Alicent sighs in defeat, had you left? It did not make sense. Maybe you are heading home to plan an attack on her and her family. No. She should not think so irrationally now. “If she shows up escort her here.” The guard nods before moving to leave the room. “Should we pray?”

“She cannot stand your presence so much she is missing dinner.” Aegon whispers in jacaerys direction before being shushed by his mother who begins to pray. Jacaerys has never been religious so he has no reason to pray. Are you truly missing dinner because of him? He begins to feel sick. Jacaerys had definitely not spend his whole afternoon thinking of you even when he was walking in the garden with baela or when he had found out lucerys was to be married to rhaena. It got him thinking of his own engagement. He has been trying his best to figure out what he was going to say the next time you spoke, maybe he should stop trying completely. Today was a slip up in his judgement, he should have listened to his head and not thought with his cock like Aegon.

He will not speak to you unless necessary.

That entire plan lasted all of five seconds because as soon as alicent was done with her prayer the doors to the room opened and his jaw fell to the floor. You stood in a floor length sleeved in the color of house velaryon. It had a long slit down your front down to your waist where it connected to another slit down your leg. the dress covered in detailed designs of flowers. Your hair was done, full of pins and topped with a golden clip which made it look like the sun was shining behind you. he could see the scar that was was usually hidden behind your very covered up look clearly now. it ran completely down your chest and stopped around your stomach where there was a bigger scar.

You were gorgeous. No gorgeous is not enough. you looked radiant, glorious, his vocabulary is not large enough to describe the goddess standing in front of him. He may not be religious but he believes you to be the closest thing to the maiden. A goddess that has flown down from the heavens to grace this earth.

You awkwardly readjust your dress as everyone in the room gawks at you. “I apologize for being late. This dinner clashed with my prayers.” There is a couple beats of silence before anyone says anything. “It is my fault, i should have taken your faith into account when i set this dinner up.” Otto is the first and only one to break the silence and is given a nod before you make your way towards the table.

Jacaerys quick to stand, you look at him in shock as you sit he pushes in your chair for you before sitting back down himself.

Shortly after all the food is being brought out and the chatter at the table begins. “you look beautiful. That dress is stunning, where ever did you get it?” rhaenyra is the first to speak to you, he watches as you reach your hands and readjust the slit on your dress. You are not wearing your gloves. “I had it made in a tailor shop in the city last night, i had gone to go pick it up this afternoon.” He cannot take his eyes off your hands, still covered in rings. He can see black marks peaking through your wrists but mostly hidden under your sleeves. He wants to see them. He wants to see you.

“A dress like that made so quickly? That is quite impressive.” “It is easy to have stuff done quickly when you are presented with enough coin.” more mindless chatter flows around you all. There is an awkward energy in the air but no one dares acknowledge it. Jacaerys feels terrible. You had been busy this afternoon. And he had been so rude about it. His terrible temper and sensitive feelings continue to sway him in the wrong direction.

He wants to speak to you. But he feels as though he will just screw it up once more.

“Lady Maegyr, you had mentioned you are a triarchs of Volantis, is it normal for two members of the same family to rule at the same time?” You pick at the food on your plate, “My father was not re-elected lord hand.” “That must have not gone over well with him.”

You glance up for a moment at daemon before you look down at your plate. “He was furious. So furious in fact he demanded a recount, then another recount. When that didn't work he attempted to bribe them. When that didn't work he tried to kill me. Both the other triarchs were re-elected, He had thought it was ridiculous i was elected. i had not spent a single second or coin to campaign” “but you traveled out there recently no? was that not to campaign?” “it had been to help my father campaign. Seems like it did not matter. The people wanted me to sit on the throne.”

“Do you know why?” It takes you a moment to answer but it is clear to daemon who chuckles to himself. “You are to be a Targaryen.” You hum, taking a large gulp out of your wine glass. “Every single old blood dreams of being even close to the great legacy of house Targaryen. They simply are trying to flatter me.”

There is no room to acknowledge the tension in the room. The adults more interested in learning about you, throwing questions at you left and right. Its a good thing, there's no room for in fighting between the family and you serve as the perfect distraction. “What happened to your father then?” “He had fallen off a cliff. Such a tragedy.” You do not mean that, you seem far too pleased for it to be merely an accident. “That is horrible.” You simply nod, and watch as a maid fills up your wine glass for the fourth time.

“Is your mother around?” “My mother died soon after giving birth to my brother.” Alicent places her hand on her chest, “I am so sorry.” You shrug, continuing to sip on your drink. “I was born with my twin brother, they had not expected her to live anyways.” “Twins are tough.” It is helaenas first time speaking that night, a depressed look on her face. “Birthing is not easy even with one, i cannot even imagine two. Isn't it not common to survive?”

“Yes well, my mother had not died while giving birth. She had actually looked like she was going to live which shocked the midwives in the room.” The room sits in silence and some in pure confusion, “Imagine the look on their face after my father picked up a blade and slit it across her throat.”

Rhaenyra chokes on her drink while alicent gasps and covers her mouth. “No…” “ ‘an heir and a spare’ they say. when i was pushed out first he had expected he would keep her around until she gave him another son but soon after me my brother came out and he had no more use for her i suppose.” “That's horrible.”

You simply shrug and finish off your cup requesting some more. “it is in the past. My father shall pay for what he’s done, the lord of light shall do what he sees fit to punish him. Even so he has already paid for his crimes in a sense.” It is a shock to hear you talk so much. Maybe it is the wine that is loosing you up. But there must be a deeper reason as to why you seem to be acting differently tonight.

“It is nice to see someone can keep up with me in the drinks. Maybe we should see if you can keep up with me in other places.” Aegon whispers the last part in your ear. You keep your gaze forward continuing to drink, had you even taken a bite out of your meal.

“Hold your tongue when speaking to my betrothed.” It is now jacaerys who whispers from your right. He has a venom in his voice as he glares in his direction. You look at neither man, simply blind to the stare down they are having behind you.

“My lady i truly feel bad for you. I'm sure his cock is so flaccid he has no clue what to do with it. If you ever need some real experience feel free to come visit me.”

What really gets jacaerys anger is Aegon placing his hand on your bare back that had been exposed. He swears his eye is twitching as he fights the urge to pick up his steak knife and stab it into his hand to get it off your skin. He had never even touched your skin before.

You suddenly reach behind your back and rip his hand off, twisting it lightly causing him to hiss. “Touch me or even so much as speak to me again and i shall do worse to you.” You do not even spare him a glance as you finish down yet another cup and wave down the servant to refill your cup.

Jacaerys however is too anger to say anything else just angrily shoving some of his chicken in his mouth. His other hand rests on the table clenched in the fist. He should not be so angry. He is embarrassed. Embarrassed that Aegon is most likely right. He was obviously not good at much, he could barely speak Valyrian, could barely control his temper-

A hand gets placed on his clenched fist and any thought in his mind ceases to exist. He looks over at you and he notices that they have just brought you a jug of win seemingly tired of having to walk over and refill your cup. You keep your gaze forward but he notices your clenched jaw and rapid blinking.

He has no clue if he’s right but due to your excessive talking and drinking as well as even your posture he could tell, you were stressed. Your mind was clearly not here, Which is why you were answering any questions throw at you. Why you seemed to not even mind the way the men were eyeing you down at the table. He had no clue why you were, he wishes he did. Wishes he could make it go away, he does not wish to see you so stressed.

He unclenches his fist, twists it around and hesitates before lacing his fingers with yours. He expects you to turn him away, or even glare at him but you don’t. Instead you allow yourself to grip his hand tight and your shoulders drop as you relax and let out a deep sigh.

His skin burns, like the two of your hands together rub together to create electricity which sends shockwaves through his soul. He is surprised your hands are so soft, he had expected them to be a lot rougher due to your excessive sword training but you must wear gloves almost all the time as they look like there are barely any scratches and marks on them, as if you have never even lifted your hands to do anything before. His thumb starts to rub against the back of your hand. He knows its not good to question you. Not that you will give him any answers anyways. but he hopes that you do not have to stress for long.

The tension in the room is much more palpable now. They had stopped grilling you about yourself. You almost want to leave but it would be in bad taste, you know they would fight and rhaenyra would want to leave the keep, you must prevent that from happening. “Do you mind if i ask her to dance?” You snap out of your thoughts and lightly turn in his direction. Haleana had just given a speak and looked rather down. Of course he would want to atleast try to cheer her up. but you know that is not a good idea. So you stand, letting go of his hand and his looks up at you in confusion as you walk over to the small group of people playing music.

You stand awkwardly as a cheerful jig started playing and everyone looks over at you. “Lets,,, dance?” Its a group jig. Everyone looks back and forth at one another. You reach your hand out in helaenas direction and she smiles as she stands up to grab it and jacaerys stands to join you soon after, rhaena baela and lucerys follow. Aegon shakes his head as his mother urges him to get him, she has to give a pointed look at the king before he rolls his eyes and stands, walking over to aemond who shakes his head at him causing Aegon to smile and grip his shirt to drag him with him.

Alicent and rhaenyra watch you all with a smile, even otto and daemon have a pleased look as they watch you all. Jacaerys is shocked you even know this tune, he had thought it was a westerosi tune but he guessed you have been in westeros longer than you have been in essos. The song ends and you all laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. You simply stand and watch all of them with a pleased look. Jacaerys looks at you with a smile and grips your hand tightly. He looked so happy. You wish you felt the same but you felt too much stress to share the same sentiment.

“This makes me so happy. To see you all get along. This is all I've ever wanted.” They all stand around and stare at one another as viserys speaks. Alicent stands and looks to viserys. “Isn’t this a great way to end the night.” Viserys eagerly agrees seemingly exhausted and everyone gives each other hushed goodnights as they walk out the room. You nod at rhaenyra and daemon who grabs your hand and thanks you before leaving. You can feel a gaze on you and turn to see otto staring at you. All you do is give him a dramatic bow your gaze never leaving his face as you walk off to join jacaerys who was waiting for you by the door.

“Allow me to walk you-” “No. I will walk you to your room. I don’t plan on sleeping just yet.” You grab his hand and drag him towards the direction of his room. He says nothing as he watches the back of your head, attempting to keep up with your long fast steps. Soon enough they are standing in front of his room and you do not turn back to look at him, instead breathing deeply and gripping his hand tightly. He turns you around to face him, “Please you must tell me what is wrong? Are you alright?” You shake your head and let go over him reaching down into the potted plant near his room and his eyes widen as he sees the long metal chains in your hands. “My lady..?”

“You will listen to me very closely. You are to tie these around your door, your windows and there is a shelf in the back of your room that you must secure this around as well,” He blinks at you as you shove them in his hands, “I do not understand-” “You must do this i beg of you,” “My lady-” “You will not leave your room. You will not open the door should you hear knocking you will not even answer if you hear one of your own families voice. unless it is my own. No matter what you do or see you will not you must promise me.”

You cannot falter to his puppy eyes. The clock is ticking until things start to explode and you are too worried too stressed, you cannot allow anything happen to him. You cup his cheeks and pull him closer to you, his breath hits your face and his eyes dart around your face. “Y/n…..” “Please jacaerys.”

He gulps. His past dreams and thoughts float their way up to his mind. He wants to kiss you, he is staring at your lips so intensely he is not even answering you. You notice this and sigh, shaking your head. “It is not a good time.” “If the situation is as dire as you make it seem maybe it is the best time.”

“I will kiss you later should you agree.”. Though his heart begins to race at the idea and he almost opens his mouth to eagerly agree he cannot stop the anxiety brewing in his stomach. “But what if you are in danger-” “No. You must stay. Agree to do it.” Your face turns to one of irritation at his continuous refusal. “What if i do not?” You press your face closer to him and he instinctively closes his eyes. “I guess i will just have to drag you to your bed and chain you there. Keep you there all night.” He lets out a shaky breath as you step back. That's all he wants. All he’s been thinking about.

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Would you join me?” You shake your head and look at him desperately. “please jacaerys. you must.” “Will you even tell me what this is for.” With you blank look he knows he wont get an answer so he sighs. “I will. as long as you promise to stay safe.”

You freeze. as he looks at you expectantly. He watches you look off to the side and think. He may not know what is going but he can tell you plan on doing something crazy. “I promise.” “do you mean it or are you just saying that.” You give him a flat look and roll your eyes. “I mean it. Kostan daor jikagon, mirri mēre kostagon gūrogon ao hen nyke.” He blinks and tilts his head. “Will you teach me what the things you say mean?”

You look at him once more before you begin to walk backwards, “Goodnight. jacaerys.” “Will you try to get some rest?” You say nothing and just turn your back to him walking off. He watches you until you are far out of his view and attempts to calm his pounding heart as he enters his room. His tub already ready for a bath, he does what you say after waving off a couple maids saying he has no need for them tonight and he wants to go to bed early. He is bad at tying it, he is sure you would be anger if you saw the terrible job he did.

He is unsure as to why you need him to lock up the cabinet in his room but he does it anyways with the most confusion. He strips himself and settles into his bath, its hot. Very hot actually. But it is a nice change from the cold bath he had taken yesterday. You are the only thing he can think about. He wonders what you are doing what is going on. But in a weird way he finds himself trusting you. He has no reason to. You have not shown yourself to be trust worthy. maybe it is the childish part of him or his own selfish desires but he believes you and will do anything you say.

His mind slowly drifts to your dress tonight. The way it flowed as you walked away, the exposed skin where he could see scares all over your legs and back but you still never showed your arms. Was there a reason for that? He wants to know everything about you. He dunks his head under the water as he begins to wonder what you are doing right now.

You stand in your room, back into your black leather outfit as you heart pounds. Looking at the variety of weapons on your table in front of you you hesitate before strapping them onto different spots on your outfit before you stand Infront of your door and freeze. wiping you hands in front of your armor you gulp. This is it. You cannot mess this up, what this has all been leading to. You stand and wait. and wait, and wait and wait and wait for your queue. When you hear the rushing of footsteps outside your door you open it. looking around the hallway before stepping out and swiftly making your way through the corridors with your hood now tossed up.

You were called to the temple about a month ago. it was the highest request from the high priestess herself. Only a few days after you had been elected.

‘There is something you must know. the flames have told me something of great danger.’

You sit in your chair held up above the ground with a bored look on your face. “What could be more important than ruling Essos?” You watch the priestess pace back and forth and sigh.

“The king is going to die soon.”

“That is a shock to no one.”

“no no you must understand they plan to kill the heir.”

This has you sitting up completely with wide eyes. “Whatever are you speaking of?”

“They plan to kill her, her and her children.”

You freeze, blinking slowly. “… her children.”

Jacaerys.

“They plan to gather in the keep. Should they leave war will begin, should they stay they will all die. You must go.”

You play with your dagger that you had tucked into your pocket and look at the priestess with a confident face. “What must i do?”

“They will not do it by their own hands. You must kill them.”

Viserys will be dead in minutes alicent knows this. She watches viserys mutter to himself. She feels sick, sicker than she’s ever felt when he would take her at night, sicker than he had announced to the council he will marry her. She does not want this to happen. She fears what will happen afterwards. The door of the room opens and she stands in shock looking at women who had just entered. “Rhaenyra?” Rhaenyra walks swiftly over to her father ignoring alicent completely and kneels down next to him. “Father?”

Otto walks in the room swiftly after and looks between them all alarmed and walks closer to alicent. “You will be a beautiful queen. I just, wish i could have seen it.” Otto eyes alicent who looks at him. Otto cannot allow this to happen. He already has the means to get rid of them set up, he had not accounted for rhaenyra showing up in this room right now. He can see a danger on the table and grabs it. Alicents eyes widen and she begins to steps towards her father. She does not want rhaenyra to die. That is the last thing she has ever wanted. So she is more than relieved when the door opens to the room once again and otto drops the dagger quickly.

Daemon, unlike rhaenyra who had seemingly ran in here straight from bed still in her night gown, daemon was completely dressed in his leather armor suit with his sword attached to his side quickly making his way over towards rhaenyra to comfort her as she had begun to cry as viserys retold the story of Aegon the conquer once more. Otto internally curses as he knows he cannot act with daemon around. The only real question he has is how did they know to come here? They were meant to be dead asleep in their rooms so the people he hired could come in and deal with them, but what were they doing outside of their room how had they even known to come in here?

Otto gives alicent a look before leaving the room. Alicent begins to worry what otto is going to do. She has no clue but based on what he was about to do she has her worries. But she cannot dwell on that right now she approaches closer to the other two and simply can only watch as viserys passes.

Jacaerys was unable to sleep. His thoughts filled with you, and with worry. What did you seem to be so concerned with? His eyes closed he continues to toss and turn in bed until he hears a thump against the cabinet you had him lock up. He sits up alarmed his eyes widening and heart racing. It continues to thrash until he can hear the sound of gurgling and he can hear what sounds like a body hitting the floor. He wants to get up and check it out but your words ring in his head. He can’t. He is choosing to trust you. he hopes he does not grow to regret this

Alicent is left in a room for the first time since viserys had passed. Daemon and rhaenyra had walked back to their room to mourn maybe an hour ago? She had no clue how much time had truly passed. She finally allows herself to cry. To cry about everything. She swears this is the first time she's cried in years, everything suddenly crashing into her in a sudden wave of anguish. Maybe she had a distain for the man and his blind ignorance of everything but she never truly wanted him to pass.

“Pick up your tears girl there are things we must do.” She looks up towards her father who walks in the room with a satisfied look on his face. “What did you do?” Otto simply shrugged, “What i had to do. There is nothing you can do now it is already done.” Alicent looks angry now, the tear streaks still left on her face as she glares at her father. “The king never would have wanted this!” “The king is dead. Now it is time we move. Come, let us discuss this more privately.”

Otto is horrified to walk into his room to a pile of bodies stacked in the middle of his room the one of the topic having the his back exposed with a familiar skull carved into it. The volantis currency coin honors skull. “That cunt.”

“‘That cunt’ is right.” The two of them jump and like you appeared out of thin air you approach from a far corner of the room. “You.” Otto glares at you and he notices all the blood splotches on your face and he sees the dagger you are holding in your hands, covered in blood.

“Yes, me.” “You have no reason to get involved in this. These are family affairs.” You tilt your head and alicent sees a crazy in your blank eyes she only sees in daemon. It is not clear to her. You do not have a distain for him. You are on the same grounds as him, you probably respect him more than anyone else. She has severely misunderstood you. and now she will pay the consequences for it.

“I have no reason to get involved? They are to be my family. I am to be married to him.” You walk past him and stand directly in front of alicent who looks down. “Here is what is going to happen. You two are going to stop this mindless nonsense. Rhaenyra is going to ascend the throne, daemon will take the position as hand, otto will return to oldtown, Me and jacaerys will take our place in dragonstone, baela and rhaenys will return to driftmark, and you, your children, rhaena and lucerys and the rest of her spawn will stay here.”

“The realm will never accept a women on the throne.” You do not turn back to otto as you address him. your gaze staying strong onto alicent. “They did not seem to have any complaints. Not until you and your Hightower cunts started to spread around that ridiculous rumor about her.”

“You must know it is true,” Alicent hands begin to shake as she speaks, “You cannot truly look at him and think he is of pure blood-” “You will not open your mouth to speak about him again. I let your foolish game go on for too long, it ends today.” Otto stares at the back of your head and scoffs. “You do not truly love the boy do you? You are incapable of love you are nothing but a monster-” “QUIET!” He flinches as you are louder than you've ever been, even during today's trial you had not been so loud.

“You will never speak or even so much as think about him again or else.” His eye twitches as you do not even turn in his direction and keep your gaze on alicent. “You don’t want things to get ugly do you? It would be a shame if something happened to your dear son in oldtown, hmmm what is his name?” You put your hand on your chin in a fake ponder as alicents eyes widen in horror, “Daeron..” “Daeron yes! thats it! it would be terrible should anything happen to him no?” “What have you done?” You open your mouth in a mock horror as your face remains blank, “Why i would never? what a horrible accusation? I just happen to know a few people in oldtown who happen to be willing to do whatever i say.” You get closer to alicents face and stare her down, “It would also be oh so horrible should anyone find out what happened to dear poor Dyane.” “How do you know that?” She whispers to you, she feels like her world is closing in, she feels dizzy and the only thing in her vision is you.

“You may have tried to pay her off but it is best to remember this, i have more. More of everything. More men, more money, more power. You will never win in a fight against me. I am the threat, your worst outcome. You do not wish to toy with me. For i will not kill you, that would be too good of a fate for you. I shall lock you in a room and each day present you with a piece of your children all chopped up day by day night by night until there is nothing left of them and of you because you will be nothing more than an empty shell of yourself.”

She falls to her knees in front of you and when she looks up she sees the closest thing to the stranger. Maybe this is the gods way of punishing her, for trying to change history, for deluding herself in her own self righteousness, It was not all undeserving but she is certainly no saint. She watches as you tilt your head at her and raise your eyebrows. “You will do what i say.” “You did all this for him?” It is the only thing she can find herself to say as you crouch down to be eye level with her. She sees a dark look in your eyes as you lean forward.

“I would do anything for him.”

Knocking at his door came. He does not speak, simply holding his tongue and waiting. “It is me.” He lets out a sigh of relief and quickly rushes towards the door to unlock it and hurriedly lets you in. “My lady, Are you hurt? What has happened?” “You should head to the main hall, The king has passed.” “Grandsire?” He looks over you wide eyed and he grips your arms tightly as he notices the blood. “You are hurt.” You shake your head and for the first time ever he sees you smile. “It is not my blood.” You are so beautiful. He hopes you are forever this happy as you appear to be in this moment.

He is shocked when you grab his face and give him a peck on the cheek. “I told you i would reward you.” “I was thinking of a different kiss my lady.” You raise your brows at him, “I had no clue you were so scandalous my prince. Your grandsire just died.” He smiles and leans himself in to kiss you-

“Jace!” He groans as you step away from him and turn towards the door right as soon as Lucerys stepped into view, out of breathe. “Oh Lady Maegyr.” He bows and you nod your head at him before he looks up at you with wide eyes as he sees the blood on you and looks to jacaerys who is glaring at his brother behind your back. “mother is calling to gather all of us.” “I will meet you in a moment.” He says with intention on finishing what you started. “No he will accompany you there. I must go back to my room but i will meet you all there, if the queen asks for me tell her to start without me.” He glares as you give him a nod swiftly avoid his hand reaching out to grab you.

Lucerys looks at jacaerys who groans and walks out the room with a grumble. He does not even bother to check if his brother is following him. He is more than ready to get whatever needs to be done over with so he can see you again. His mother rushes over and pulls him into a deep hug upon seeing him. “I am so glad you are alright.” he smiles at his mother reassuringly, “i am alright mother, i swear.” After greeting lucerys he walks to stand by daemon who gives him a sly smile. He does not say anything to jacaerys but by the look on his face jacaerys knows he wishes to say something to him.

“Where is Lady Maegyr?” “She had said something about returning to her room. She said to tell you to start without her.” Lucerys answers her quickly. Rhaenyra glances over at jacaerys before simply nodding. She begins to speak about how today will play out, She will be crowned within the next couple hours but before then a personal family only funeral will be held for viserys which is currently being set up. He wishes he could say he is sad to see viserys go but in truth he barely knew the man besides the few times he would speak to him as a young boy.

“My queen.” You walk into the room having changed into a simply black dress, it had been a hand-me-down dress rhaenyra left in your room for you only hours prior and she smiles as she sees you, rushing over to you. “is,,, everything alright?” You know the implications of her question, her worries about the Hightower's and her half siblings and you nod. “It has been taken care of completely do not worry yourself.” She looks at you bewildered at the tone behind your words, “You are not implying what i believe you are…” Her words trail off as alicent walks in somberly dressed in complete black while Aegon trails in behind her looking like the happiest man in the world, a big smile on his face as he stands and bows to rhaenyra, “My queen.” Rhaenyra raises her bows and blinks in shock at his overjoyed appearance and simply nods to him.

Everyone in the room is looking at alicent who does not lift her head or say anything for a few moments before bowing. “My queen.” “There is not need for you to call me that, alicent.” Alicent looks at her hesitantly, the look on her equivalent to that of a kicked puppy before she nods and looks back down. Rhaenyra turns back to everyone else in the room and sighs, “You are all dismissed. You will get ready for the funeral and will be retrieved later.” Everyone floods out back to their rooms to get ready the only one who does not have a somber face is Aegon who practically skips back to his room.

You linger behind for a moment with jacaerys as you look at rhaenyra, “Do you need me?” She simply shakes her head and places her hands on your shoulders. “You have done more for my family than i can even say, please, is there anything i can do for you?” You blink for a moment, unsure of what to do with the sudden praise and simply shake your head. “No my queen. for i already have what i want.” You glance over at jacaerys who blushes at your look and turns away with a cough attempting to push down his smile. He turns around as to not have to face his mother and is instead met by daemon knowing grin and he shakes his head at the young boy.

“Then i can only as you to accept my thanks. and you stand by my family today during the ceremonies.” You nod and bow at her. “It would be an honor my queen.” “You are to be family my dear of course you shall stand with us,” she wraps you in a hug. You stand frozen for a moment, unsure you can recall the last time someone had even hugged you. You hesitantly bring your arms up and wrap them around her. “Maybe later we can discuss you and jacaerys staying at driftmark.” She pulls away after whispering in your ear and nods to dismiss you.

You bow once more before turning to leave, not turning back to look at anyone else and as soon as you step out the door you feel waves of relief crash over you. You had succeeded, they were all alive and well, rhaenyra would be crowned and there would not be any issues from the Hightower’s. You must write to the high priestesses and inform them of your successes but you are suddenly stopped by a frantic rhaenys sprinting towards you with a letter in hand. “Corlys is awake!”

Rhaenyra walks over to jacaerys and places her hands on his cheeks, “My boy. Today is a big day for not just me you know.” He nods and stands up straight. The past couple years of work he’s done to prepare and the years he knows he will have to prepare even more. “Of course my queen.” She presses her lips against his forehead, “Go get dressed.” He nods and exits swiftly leaving alicent, rhaenyra and daemon to discuss god knows what and makes his way to his room attempting to ignore his growing anxiety.

The funeral is a somber service. You stand by jacaerys and grip onto his hand tightly as viserys corpse burns he hears you muttering prayers to yourself with your eyes closed as the fire grows bigger. He does not know much about the lord of light and its religion, he’ll have to do some research once he has the free time but he knows the importance of fire to you and he pulls you closer to him. You open your eyes and stare at the flames in front of you and lean your head against jacaerys’ shoulder and let the flames take over your light of vision, the lords comfort warming you as you feel like this is a sign from R'hllor himself as the flames get bigger and bigger he is content with your work.

Unlike the funeral the crowning is a much more joyful affair, everyone changing out of their mourning outfits and putting on more regal attire as everyone stands around and watches rhaenyra be crowned. Jacaerys send a weak smile his mothers way as he watches her. Him being named her heir is inevitable at this point. He has begun to shake out of nerves. He is not good enough to do this. He cannot do this. He feels you grab his hand this time expect it is absent of your glove and he sighs at the feeling of your warm skin against his. The feeling of your cold metal rings and your comforting touch manages to calm him down until the end of the ceremony where he lets out a sigh of relief as people begin to flood away.

“You must accept my apologies my queen for i must leave.” It was the grand feast afterward rhaenyra looks over to you in shock, you had just given her your congratulations and she places down cup she had been sipping from. “Is something the matter?” “Lord corlys has awoke your grace, the situation at stepstones is too dire for me to ignore any longer.” Jacaerys walks over to from leaving his place by lucerys to stand by you, “You are leaving?” You stare at him with a sadden look before you look down at the floor. “I must.” He attempts to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach at the thought of you having to return to war. The two of you have not even gotten to discuss the rapid change in your relationship, if he can even call it one.

“I do not wish for you to go.” He grabs your hands in his and whispers to you. You look at him with a conflicted look and shake your head. “I will return to you. Wait for me?” He nods. He will, he will wait until the end of time for you to come back. So only a few minutes later he watches with a bitter heart as you get on a horse and give him one last final look before you ride off, it takes everything in him not to chase after you. Daemon places his hand on his shoulder and turns him so they can walk back inside together. “Will she be alright?” Daemon is quiet for a moment, “That is a ridiculous question. She is a warrior, she will live.”

It has been over a month since he’s last seen you. Since he’s been struggling with his thoughts and feelings about you. His mother had sent him to dragonstone to take up his place in the ancestorial seat. It was tough to be so far away from his brothers and parents but he did his duty day by day. He wrote to you once but as always did not receive a response. You confused him, You seemed to content with him but you continue to ignore him. He does not understand you.

So his confusion only grows as some of your footmen arrive in dragonstone one day with boxes full of items. “It is the triarchs things Lord Velaryon.” “You bring them here?” “The triach has requested it.” He simply nods and allows them to bring the things in, He is shocked to see how many boxes their truly was. He had never assumed you were the type to care about material goods. “A lot of them are dresses my prince.” A servant tells him as he sees Jacaerys eyeing the boxes, “It is much colder here than it is in Essos so the lady had to have many new clothes made for her to wear here.” Jacaerys lets out an ah as he roams around the boxes, of course, he head heard how hot it is in Essos, apparently Volantis is the hottest out of them all. He shakes his head as it begins to be filled with him trying to imagine what you typically wear back at home. You must not be as covered up as you are here. You probably wear anything at all.

“Do you two plan to share a chamber or do you have a separate room for the lady?” This snaps jacaerys out of his thoughts and he begins to think it over. It would be inappropriate for you two to share a chamber before you are married, but the selfish part of him wishes for when you return back to him for you to stay with him, it makes him sick a the idea of you staying in a separate room from him. But he knows he must do the appropriate thing, tell him he will have a separate room prepared for him. “We will share the main chamber.” Yet he cannot. The servants nod and begin to move the boxes towards the main chamber.

The hour turns late and the sun has since set until your people finally leave with a bow and all your stuff has been placed all over what was once just his chambers. He is at first overwhelms by the smell of you but he soon smiles to himself as he walks around the room. He did not have much stuff, he was never one for material goods but you however had many little trinkets and decorations placed all over the room. He notices a large vase in the room filled with beautiful red roses, he sees a tapestry of the symbol of the lord of light hanging near the bed, he notices the closet the once looked bare now completely filled with a variety of custom made dresses. He walks around the room with a smile on his face as he admire all the little signs of you all ober the room.

What does catch his attention however is a box places on the bedside table. It is a plain wooden box with no clear sighs of what would be in it. He should not open it. He should walk away and leave your personal stuff alone but he cannot stop himself from opening it. He is greeted by a sight he did not expect. Anything he had ever given you, from the letters, the flowers his mother forced him to pick and give to you, even his handkerchief he had lent you one time, everything laid neatly and organized inside the box. he picks up the letters and swipes through them. He is shocked that you had even opened them so much as kept them, he has sworn to himself you had thrown them away. But if you kept them why did you never respond? You continue to confuse his mind and his heart.

“And i thought it was improper to look through someone else's things.” He freezes as he hears the voice he’s been waiting to hear for over a month now. Whipping his head around he sees you, standing clad in your armor shaking your head at him with a soft smile on your face. “And imagine my surprise when the maids told me my stuff was placed in your chambers at the princes request. I never knew you were so scandalous my prince.” He quickly stands and to get a good look at you. You looked like not even a day had passed, just as beautiful as the last time he saw you. He hesitantly smiles. as you walk over to him and take the letters out of his hands and gently place them back in the box like they were your most prized possession.

“You kept them?” You nod as you close up the box and pick it up. “of course i did.” “But you never responded.” This has you looking down and turning away from him. “I did not think you wanted me too.” This has him laughing awkwardly as he watches you closely. “Whatever do you mean?” You place the box on the windowsill and turn back towards him, fiddling around with your armor. “I, am not very good at,” You put your hands back and forth between the two of you, “This. all i would do is mess it up.” He walks closer to you and he can feel his heart pounding, he wants you to mean what he thinks you mean. “Why do you think so?” “My father was a very strict man, he taught me that being friendly will get me nowhere, men don’t like talkative women. So when all you seemed to do was want to talk to me. I was scared.”

He feels his heartbreak. He thinks back onto your brief interactions that month ago and he begins to feel guilty. You just had no clue how to talk to him no matter how much you wished to. and whenever you would try he would say something rude to you. He feels like shit. “I am so sorry. What can i do to make it up to you?” You tilt your head at him in confusion, “Whatever did you do?” “I had been so rude to you-” “It is of no ones fault other than my own.” “That is certainly not true, you have been so so kind to me. to my family. and i have been nothing but a piece of shit.” You giggle at his foul language and shake your head. “Then we are both at fault.”

The two of you laugh. He is so happy. He had been feeling lonely this last month it is so nice to finally be with someone else, especially since it is you. “How is stepstones?” “The war is done. for now atleast, who knows when they could come crawling back up.” “So do you plan on returning to Essos?” “I will be staying here.” “Aren't you one of the rulers of Essos?” “They will be just fine without me, should anything dire come up you should come with me.” “truly?” “You ever been?” “no. but i have always wanted to see it.” You squeeze his hands as you stare at him, “Then i will take you. I will take you anywhere you wish to go.”

His eyes drop to your lips. He is dying to kiss you. He must. He will not live a second longer if he does not. “May i kiss you my lady?” You grip his cheeks and pull him to you. The second your lips tough he feels like he has been lit on fire. Everything else in the world fades as the only thing he can see and think about is you. Your lips move together like the perfect song, working in perfect sync in harmony to create something glorious. He does not want to pull away not even when his lungs begin to hurt from the lack of air he continues to kiss you. He never wants this moment to end. But it does when the two of you separate, breathing heavily. You look at him and he can see the wanting glaze over your eyes, it is unbelievable he is able to control himself.

He tried to pull you back into him once more but you put your hand between your lips. “If this is truly going where i believe it is going can you allow me to bath first? I do not wish to smell like fish and blood and shit.” He shakes his head as he tried to pull you back in, too greedy to even let you slip from his grasp for a second. “I do not mind.” “But i do. Please.” He groans and lets you go as much as he does not wish to. “Fine.” “Do you wish to wash me?” His eyes widen at the idea and his mouth might have even begun to water. “I do not know my lady. Is that a good idea?” “If the prince was not so scandalous it might not be but maybe i was wrong to suggest it.” “I will do as you ask.” “You are a fool.” “Your fool.” He watches as you flush at his words and he calls for the maids to draw you a bath.

He can not help but stare at you as you take off your amour. The leather pieces pilling up on the table as you relieve more and more of yourself to him. It could be poetic, but jacaerys can’t think about anything else like that right now. Not when you stand in front of him, he turns away when you begin to slide off your under clothes. “You do not wish to look at me?” “I am nervous to what i will do when i do my lady.” You say nothing in return but he hears a couple more items drop to the floor and your footsteps on the ground walking towards the bathroom. “Are you going to bath me or not?”

He quickly stands and his hands shake as he makes his way towards the bathroom. He is surprised his knees do not buckle under him as he sees you. Sitting in the tub, steam hitting you oh so perfectly and your bare arms rests against the sides of the tub and he finally sees you fully. “Pick your jaw off the floor my prince.” He can not. He wishes to get on his knees and worship you, he swears he has never seen anything as beautiful as the sight of you. he had thought the most gorgeous you could look is when he saw you in that dress but you look so much better here.

He hesitantly walks over to the bath and kneels right next to you. He grabs the soap and grabs your arm as you carefully watch him. He lightly turns your arm so he can get a full few of the tattoos on your arm. It is a beautifully intricate dragon, it almost completely covers your whole forearm and he can see you have a matching one on your other arm. “What are they for?” “In Volantis when you are of old blood it is customary for you to get dragon tattoos on your arm to symbol your relation to Valyria.” He traces the design with his fingers, admiring the art and the act of you showing this part of you to him. He places a kiss on the dragons head before he begins to lather your arm in soap.

No more words are spoken between the two of you as he washes your back, then your other arm before he moves onto grabbing your hair products and running his fingers through your hair and scratches his nails into your scalp. He hears you hum, your eyes closed in delight and he gulps as he begins to throb against his pants. He watches as you dunk your head under the water to get the product out and you sit back up, looking at him as you run your hands down your face to push away the water. “Why don’t you join me? It would be easier for you to clean me if you were also in here.” He hesitates, nerves build up in his stomach as he opens his mouth but no words come out. “Are you sure my lady?” You smile and nod at him, leaning your head back against the tub to watch him.

He stands and begins to unbutton his tunic, tossing it into some corner of the room. Unlike him you do not take your eyes off him as his bare chest comes into view or even when he begins to unbutton his pants. “My lady is very shameless.” “Is it so wrong i look at you?” He shakes his head before he hesitantly pulls down his pants and he is suddenly standing bare in front of you. He hisses as he cock jumps up to slap him in the stomach leaving you to laugh before he hurriedly moves to sit across from you. The tub is big enough for the two of you to sit side by side but he does not even dare to come that close to you. “You still have a job to do.”

He picks back up the soap and drags it over your collarbone. He watches as the soap bubbles slide down to lay on your breasts and groans to himself as he continues to scrub your down. Ignoring your breasts he instead focuses on your stomach and sides. It feels so intimate, to rub his hands all over your body especially when you continue to let out your own hums of pleasure.

He runs his finger along the long scar down your chest and stomach. “It was a gift from my father. When i turned of age and he found out i was able to be elected. People had begun to suggest i should be nominated in his place. He made sure i would be bedridden for months. They could not nominate me that year.” He leans his head down and presses a kiss against the top of the scar at your neck. “I am glad he is already gone for i would have to deal with him myself.” You reach your hand on his arm and smile at him, nothing more is said but the look in your eyes says enough.

He tries his best to not look between your legs as he washes your legs one by one, he does not allow himself to linger at your thighs before he swiftly pulls his hands away from you. His hands burning as if he had just touched the sun. The bath was now cold. The two of you simply laid their for awhile before you sat up and grabbed his face. “Thank you my prince.” “Jacaerys, jace, not my prince.” You press your lips against his and he groans. The kiss is full of much more fever and desperation this time. He barely believes this is real. He must be imaging this as he had over a moon ago.

You take your hands away from his face and slide them down his chest as he feels your tongue prodding against his mouth he pulls back suddenly causing you to freeze. “Did i do something wrong?” He shakes his head, out of breath as he speaks, “No no nothing wrong. I have imagined this far too often for it to be anything wrong. it is just, i am very sensitive and if you touch me just once i will not be able to perform again.” He hopes you understand what he means. He hopes you know you are not rejecting him, but he wishes for this to go right, and if he is being selfish he does not wish to watch his seed float around in the water but instead flow out of you.

He watches as you stand up and he cranes his head up to look at you. You are the pure image of beauty. He could die now and be content with how he lived for simply getting to breath and stand in your presence is enough for him. He watches as you step out of the tub and he cant help but stare at your ass as you turn your back and walk out of the room, you turn your neck and look at him. “Are you coming?” He quickly stands and follows after you, neither of you bothering to care about the dripping water all over the bathroom and the bedroom. You have sat down on the bed and hold out your hand to pull him on top of you.

He pulls you into another kiss as the two of your skins press against each other. He feels so hot. He hands press against your face as he opens his mouth and allows the two of your tongues to intertwine with one another. His lips leave yours as they instead they begin to trail down your jaw and down your neck as his hands move to grip your waist and pull you closer to him. The two of you stay like that for awhile, and expected to stay like that the whole time but are more than shocked when he grips your hips tightly and flips you around so you are on top and he is on the bottom, you sitting directly over his abs. When you look down at him in confusion he simply smiles at you.

“It is only right you are above me, for you are a goddess who deserves to be worshipped.” His hands slide up your stomach and begin to fondle your breasts as you throw your head back and moan. “gaomagon daor tepagon qrīdrughagon aōha dōna udra sīr easily syt iksan naejot qūvy ilagon se qēlossās se se jēdar syt ao” he easily recognizes the words. The same ones you had told him in the library that faithful day in the keep. “What does it mean?” You moan as he thumbs begin to flick against your nipples and look down at him. “do not give away your sweet words so easily for i am willing to tear down the stars and the sky for you.”

He can not respond, not when he watches as your hips begin to move along his abs, fuck, he can see you essence leaving a trail on him as you use him for your own pleasure. He would let you, use him all day, any day, if it meant he would get to hear the sounds you are currently making, the way your face twists in pleasure with your eyes closed. “Have you ever touched yourself my lady?” You let out a meek hum as you throw your head back, he's hands move from your breasts to your hips to help guild you. “I have Jace, everyday, i can not help it for i am thinking of you.” He lets out his own string of curses at your admission. He watches as you reach one of your hands to your folds and your moans only get louder.

He wants to do that. He wants to know every inch of you to be able to pleasure you in all ways he can. He wants to be the reason you get louder, he wishes for you to desire him, to have to need him like air like he needs you. “Teach me how to do that.” He is more than happy when you remove your own hand and grab his, moving it to slide under you and he curses as he feels your wetness dripping on him. “Are you supposed to be that wet?” “It is because of you Jace.” He feels you move his fingers to push past your folds and he can feel a hard bulb under this fingertips. “That. touch that Issa jorrāelagon (my love),” You moan as you feel his rougher fingers begin to press against it. “In circles, ugh yes like that, you can press harder.”

The roughness of his fingertips feel much better than your own fingers and you can’t help but move your hips faster against him. His fingers move faster against your clit and you can feel the burning in your stomach grow larger. “Issa jorrāelagon, im gonna make a mess.” He groans at your words and uses one hand to move your faster and the other hand to continue to play with your clit. “Please do, fuck, I want to see it, fuck.” Can a man cum untouched? He has no clue but the way his cock is throbbing he swears he is about to burst at simply watching your pleasure. He feels the rush of liquid begin to pool and cover his hand. He moves his fingers and moves them towards your opening as he can not get over the way it feels, the hot liquid pooling over his fingers.

You jump when he pushes two of his fingers inside of you, hissing as he shoves your own cum back inside of you as he touches your gummy walls. “Jace,,,” You moan out as your head drops forward to stare at his wrist. He says nothing but moans as he begins to thrust his fingers in out, barely pulling them out before he shoves them right in. He is fueled by your moans, the way your hands claw at his chest as he is simply amazed by you. You do not know if your walls are covered with your own essence or your own cum as he adds another finger and presses them against your walls.

He wishes to memorize you, to keep this locked tight in his memory for him to look back on. He can barely believe what he is doing and hopes he is doing it right. But when you begin to move against his fingers he knows he must be doing something right. The only words you speak are his name, over and over again as he fingers begin to move faster and faster inside you. The pit in your stomach grows once again and your begin to drag your nails down his chest in pleasure. “I am about to cum jace.” He says nothing this time only moving his free hand to play with your clit which sends you over the edge. He does not remove his fingers are stop his movements simply enjoying the withering pleasure you are feeling

“Please Jace i wish to feel your cock.” This has him removing his hands and you hiss at the sudden emptiness. You watch as he places each of his fingers in his mouth, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, like your own taste is his own personal pleasure. His eyes are cloudy in a haze as he watches you sit up with shaky knees and adjust grab his dick in your hands. He moans as you rub your thumb over his tip, spreading around his precum and pressing down against it. “Do not tease me y/n please.”

He watches as you sit right above him, you sink down low enough that just his tip is rubbing against your folds. You use his tip to push your folds aside and slowly you begin to sink down onto his cock. If he was told this is how it felt after he died he would have believed it. He has never felt a greater pleasure than he has right now. He understands why people consider this act sinful, for everyone would be doing it everyday if it were not. He watches his cock slowly disappear and he lets out a whimper as you sit all the way down.

He can see the dent in your stomach and reaches his hand to touch it. This was unbelievable. He stares at you, the way you look down at his hand and cover it with your own, pressing down causing him to groan and you to moan. Unconsciously you readjust yourself, lifting yourself on him just so slightly just to slide back down and he curses.

That felt so good, he wants you to do that again. “Can i move?” You are clearly as desperate as he is and he hears it in your voice. “fuck please my lady please.” Your hips lift and you come crashing back down onto him. The bed underneath you rocking with the action as you do it over and over and over again. Slowly at first but you begin to create a rhythm as his hands grab your tits to squeeze them.

The room is filled with the sounds of your slamming against him, the wet sounds of him pushing into you and your combined moans. If this made him a sinner so what? He was not religious and he would refuse any god that said this was not the most holy and pleasurable thing to do on earth. He begins to move his hips up to meet yours and he watches your face contort. “We must do this, ugh, everyday.” You nods feverishly as both of his hands moving to your hips to help you bounce faster as his hips begin to harsh slam up into you. “Yes, everyday, every night, ughh, everywhere,” You let out an especially high pitched whimper as he begins to toy with your clit. “All over the castle.”

Yes he would like that, so much. He can see it now, the way he would allow you to sit on the throne as he pounded into you. The way you would sit under the table during meetings and suck him dry while he attempts to maintain his composure, fuck he’ll do this everyday of his life for as long as he lives. He can feel that familiar feeling brewing ever so close in his stomach, “are you close my lady?”

You let out a rush of hushed yes’s as you begin to move faster. “Cum with me my lady, cum please.” You let out more yes’s as he feels you throbbing around his cock causing him to burst. You cry out at the feeling of his hot seed spilling webs inside you as he suddenly flips you around and continues to pound into you as your back hits the bed. “Cum my lady, fuck.” The change of angles hits you so well along with the sounds of wetness splashing below you as he cock pushes his cum deeper inside you and all around your walls.

You suddenly splash over him with a cry and your back arches off the bed. He can feel you hit his upper stomach, all over his thighs and even his chest. You looked so beautiful, the way your eyes shut closed so tight there were crinkles around your eyes and the way your teeth and jaw clenched as he feels you continue to pulse against him, liquid trickling around his cock and out to drip on the bed.

He leans his forehead against yours and the two of you just lay there for awhile. attempting to catch your breathes. He brings one of his hands to caress your cheek and you open your eyes to look at him. “Jace.” “I love you.” You smile, a wide grin fills you face as you chuckle. “I have loved you for a long time Jacaerys.” He kisses you lightly and the two of you simply lay like that until you fall asleep. sharing pecks and tiny whispers of admiration. He can barely believe he got so lucky end up with a woman like you. Someone who loved him so much they would do to the ends of the known world for him even if he had said some cruel things to you. He loved you he loved you he loved you and he was so happy you loved him too.

a.n: This is genuinely the most crazy project of my whole writing career LMAO if you've made it this far i really want to say thank you. It's because of the endless support I've gotten on my recent stuff that really gave me the confidence to write something like this. I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS i love you all so much <3

perm jacaerys taglist: <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife

[doodle-pops]

Foreign Hearts

Gil Galad x modern human!reader

A/N: At last, the final piece for the event of this year is out! I wanted to go out with a bang but I didn’t expect to write so much (ノ_･､). Enjoy!

Warnings:modern human reader, fluff, humour, modern reader in Middle Earth, relationship talk

Words: 3.7k

Synopsis: Reflecting on the secrecy of the love you’ve shared with the High King, turned into another romantic and heartwarming moment between you two.

The sun had just begun its slow descent, casting a golden hue over the serene landscape of Rivendell. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves. The melody of a distant waterfall filled the air, mingling with the song of birds that flitted through the trees. Rivendell was a place of peace, of beauty that seemed untouched by time, and it had become your sanctuary since that fateful day when you had mysteriously appeared in the forests nearby.

It had been months since you found yourself in Middle-earth, a place you had only known from the pages of books and the whispers of legends. One moment, you had been living your life in the modern world, surrounded by the familiar hum of technology and the bustle of city life; the next, you were wandering through a forest that seemed to belong to another time, another world entirely.

The elves who had found you, clad in their silver and green, had been as shocked by your appearance as you were by theirs. You were an anomaly, a puzzle they couldn’t quite piece together. Lord Elrond, the wise and kind ruler of Rivendell, had taken you in, offering you shelter and care as you adjusted to this strange new reality.

Living in Rivendell was like stepping into a dream—everything was so ethereal, so perfect, that you often had to pinch yourself to make sure it was real. Yet, despite the beauty around you, it was hard not to feel out of place. The elves, with their flowing robes, graceful movements, and ancient wisdom, seemed like beings from a different world altogether. Your modern speech, your casual mannerisms, even your sense of humour—things that had been perfectly normal back home—stood out starkly against the elegance of elven customs.

There were times when you caught the elves watching you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, their ageless faces betraying their thoughts more than they likely realised. You had tried, at first, to conform to their ways, to adopt their formal speech and graceful etiquette. But it was exhausting to maintain, and eventually, you had accepted that you were simply different. You were a visitor in their world, and while you respected their ways, you couldn’t entirely change who you were.

It was during one of these quiet, introspective days that you first met Gil-galad.

The High King of the Noldor had arrived in Rivendell on a visit to consult with his Herald, Lord Elrond. You had heard of him in passing—the Elven king who ruled over Lindon, a figure of great authority and wisdom. But you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming that someone of his stature would have little reason to notice someone like you.

You were wrong.

The meeting had been as unexpected as everything else in Middle-earth. You had been wandering through one of the many gardens of Rivendell, lost in thought, when you nearly collided with someone. Looking up, you found yourself staring into the most striking pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. He was tall—taller than any of the other elves you had met—his presence commanding and regal, yet there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put you at ease.

“Forgive me,” he had said, his voice smooth and deep, though the amused glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t at all displeased by the encounter.

You had stammered out an apology, feeling flustered and out of place in front of someone so imposing. But the King had only smiled, intrigued by your manner of speech—so different from the formal, melodic tones of the elves. His curiosity was piqued, and instead of continuing on his way, he had engaged you in conversation.

At first, you had been nervous, unsure of how to speak to someone of such high status. But as the conversation flowed, you found yourself relaxing. Gil-galad was different from what you had expected. He was charming and kind, with a sharp wit that matched your own. He seemed genuinely interested in your world, in your experiences, and you found yourself laughing and talking more freely than you had since you arrived in Middle-earth.

Over the course of his stay in Rivendell, you and the High King crossed paths often. Each encounter left you feeling a strange mixture of excitement and confusion. He was a King, after all, and you were… well, you weren’t even sure what you were anymore. Yet, there was no denying the connection that had begun to form between you. It was as though he saw past the strangeness of your situation and was drawn to the very things that made you different.

It was during one of these visits that he had gifted you the music box. A small, intricately carved thing made of mahogany, it played a melody that was hauntingly beautiful. You had been surprised, touched by the gesture, and from that moment on, the music box had become one of your most treasured possessions.

Now, as you sat on the stone bench in one of Rivendell’s many gardens, you found yourself once again lost in thought, the music box cradled in your hands. You had come here to find some peace, to escape the swirling thoughts and emotions that had been troubling you ever since your feelings for Gil-galad began to deepen.

The gardens were quiet, the air cool and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. The sun was low in the sky, casting a soft, golden light over everything. It was a perfect evening, the kind that made you forget, if only for a moment, that you were far from home.

“Does it not trouble you?”

The familiar, smooth voice pulled you from your reverie, and you looked up to see Gil-galad approaching, his expression curious and gentle. He was dressed in his usual attire—garments of silver and royal blue, the colors of his house—his presence as commanding as ever. He sat down beside you on the bench, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, but not so close as to make you uncomfortable.

You blinked, trying to shake off the fog of your thoughts as you focused on him. But your gaze was drawn to his lips, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything else. His lips, curved into that familiar teasing smile, held your attention, and your thoughts muddled together into a jumble of emotions.

He noticed your gaze and, with a smirk, leaned closer, his voice laced with amusement. “Is there something on my face, or rather, my lips, my love?” he teased, drawing out the moment, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, focusing intently on the music box in your hands. Your fingers traced the delicate carvings, desperate for something to distract you from the fluttering in your chest. “Your teasing is going to get you into trouble one day, My King,” you muttered, your voice a mix of shyness and annoyance—though the latter was directed more at yourself than at him.

Gil-galad’s expression softened as he leaned back slightly, giving you a bit more space. “How many times must I remind you? You may call me Ereinion,” he said gently, though there was a hint of playful reproach in his tone.

You kept your eyes on the music box, refusing to look up and meet his gaze. “Once more…I suppose,” you replied quietly.

Silence settled between you as he continued to watch you, his eyes tracing the movements of your hands and the way you muttered softly to yourself in a language he couldn’t fully understand. Your mother tongue, ancient and melodic, was a lexicon from a world and age far removed from his own. Yet, despite the differences, he found comfort in these moments, in simply observing you in your element, even when the words escaped him.

“You are unhappy, are you not?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with an undertone of certainty.

A smile tugged at your lips, as though his statement amused you, and for a brief moment, a crackle of energy filled the air, as if the very atmosphere responded to your unspoken thoughts. Setting the music box aside, you turned to face him, giving him the full weight of your attention. “Why would you come to such a conclusion, or rather, how?” you asked, disbelief coloring your tone. “I don’t recall ever giving the impression that I was.”

His expression softened, though there was a shadow of hurt in his eyes. “You do not address me by my name as lovers do,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that pained you to hear. “It is almost as if you were embarrassed or uninterested in being with me. Is it because of our secrecy?”

And as the question hung in the air between you, you realised that this was a moment of truth, a moment when the feelings you had been trying to ignore could no longer be denied.

The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing against your chest like a heavy stone. Gil-galad’s expression, so often the picture of composed regality, was softened by the sadness in his eyes, a sadness that you had never intended to cause. But the truth, like the stone in your chest, was complicated and unyielding.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, warm and comforting as always. “Ereinion,” you began, the use of his name deliberate, a balm for the hurt you had unknowingly inflicted. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed or uninterested in being with you. Far from it.”

He turned his hand over to grasp yours, his thumb gently tracing circles on your palm. The simple gesture was comforting, grounding you in the moment as you searched for the right words. Words that would explain what you felt without causing him more pain.

“You have to understand,” you continued, your voice soft but steady, “I’m a human, Ereinion. A mortal. And that means…well, it means that I’m different from the people you’ve ruled and loved for centuries. I’ve seen how some of the elves speak about humans—like we’re nothing more than a fleeting thought in their minds. I know that not all of them feel that way, but enough do that it will make our relationship…complicated.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, simply listening as you voiced the thoughts you had kept buried for so long.

“You’re their High King, their leader, and their symbol of everything that is strong and eternal about the Eldar. And if they knew that you had chosen a human, someone who will live for only a blink of an eye compared to their long lives, to stand by your side…” You trailed off, shaking your head slightly. “I don’t think they would accept it. Not easily, anyway.”

He started to speak, but you held up your hand, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked at him, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s not just that, Ereinion. It’s also…well, I’m happy with things the way they are. Keeping our relationship a secret, it means I don’t have to deal with the expectations and judgments that would come if I were known as your chosen one. It’s a relief, honestly.”

You shifted slightly on the bench, feeling the smooth, cool wood beneath you as you gathered your thoughts. “When I first arrived in Middle-earth—when I was suddenly…here—I was lost. Confused. I didn’t understand your world or its customs. And despite the kindness I’ve been shown, especially by Lord Elrond, I still struggle with it. I’m not like the others. My behaviour, my speech, even the way I think, it’s all…different. I’ve spent over a year in Rivendell, learning and adapting as best I can, but there are times when I still feel like an outsider, like I don’t quite belong.”

The grip he held on your hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he understood. His eyes, so often filled with the weight of his responsibilities, now held only concern for you, his secret love.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty,” you added quickly, seeing the flicker of guilt cross his features. “In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m grateful that we can keep our relationship private. It means I don’t have to deal with the pressure of being a ruler, of trying to prove my worth to people who might never accept me. I’ve heard how some of the elves speak of humans—how we’re seen as lesser, as irrelevant. I’ve witnessed the way they look down on us, dismiss us.”

You paused, meeting his gaze with a steady look. “There’s no way they would accept me as their leader. And that’s okay. I don’t need them to. I’m happy with my freedom, with not having to live up to impossible expectations or navigate the treacherous waters of court politics and finding myself crying in a corner every day of the week, anxiously. I’m content being your secret lover, someone who can love you without the weight of a crown on my head.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, making his expression softened further, the sadness giving way to a deep, abiding affection. “You are remarkable,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a kind of awe that made your heart skip a beat. “To find contentment in such circumstances…it’s not something many could do.”

You chuckled softly, the sound breaking the tension that had built between you. “Well, I’ve always been one to adapt, but not this time. Maybe if it was another human instead of me, they might enjoy the idea of being a royal more than the problems it bring,” you teased lightly. “Besides, I’ve never been one for grand titles or public adoration. I prefer the quiet moments, like this one, where I can just be myself with you.”

He nodded, a small, grateful smile crossing his lips. “It’s those quiet moments that I cherish most as well,” he admitted. “In all my years, with all the burdens of leadership, it’s rare to find someone who sees me not as the High King, but as Ereinion—just an elf who loves and is loved in return.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “And that’s exactly how I see you,” you said softly. “I fell in love with you, not for your title or your power, but for who you are—the elf who listens to my ramblings, who teases me when I’m being too serious, who finds joy in the small things.”

The weight of your conversation still hung in the air, but with it came a sense of relief—a feeling that you had finally voiced the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for so long. Gil-galad’s expression had softened, his eyes still holding that deep affection, but now there was an understanding between you that hadn’t existed before.

You broke the silence first, a small smile playing on your lips as you leaned back on the bench, your fingers still intertwined with his. “You know,” you began, your tone lightening, “I never imagined when I first ended up in Middle-earth that I’d be sitting here with the High King of the Elves, having a heart-to-heart in a secret garden.”

He chuckled softly, the sound a deep, warm rumble that you felt as much as heard. “And I never imagined that I’d fall in love with a human from a world I’ve never even heard of,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But life has a way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, a laugh escaping your lips as you thought back to the strange journey that had brought you here. “That’s an understatement. I mean, one day I’m sitting in my apartment, minding my own business, and the next thing I know, I’m in Rivendell, surrounded by elves and trying to figure out how not to embarrass myself with every other word I say.”

Gil-galad’s smile widened, and he leaned back beside you, the tension between you dissipating like morning mist. “I remember the first time I heard you speak,” he mused, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You were trying to explain the concept of a ‘microwave’ to Elrond, and he looked as though he was trying to decipher an ancient riddle.”

You groaned, your cheeks heating at the memory. “Oh, don’t remind me. I must have sounded like a complete lunatic. I’m still not sure he believes that microwaves aren’t some kind of magic.”

“Well,” Gil-galad said, his tone mock-serious, “you have to admit, it does sound rather magical. A box that cooks food in mere moments? Even I have trouble wrapping my head around it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep the grin off your face. “It’s just science,” you replied with a playful nudge. “But then again, in a world where magic is real, I suppose science might seem a little…mystical.”

He chuckled again, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he said, his voice warm. “You bring a perspective that’s entirely different from anything I’ve known. You see the world in a way that none of us do, and it’s…refreshing.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “So what you’re saying is, you fell for me because I’m weird?”

He laughed, the sound full and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in. “Well, if by ‘weird,’ you mean unique, then yes,” he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And besides, I think you’re the only person who can make me laugh like this.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, so I’m your court jester now? Should I start juggling or learn to ride a unicycle?”

Shaking his head, his laughter fading into a soft smile. “No, you’re much more than that. But if you do learn to juggle, I’m sure we could arrange a performance at the next feast.”

You playfully swatted his arm, your heart feeling lighter with each moment you spent in his company. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Only with you, my love.”

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve to keep things light slipping away under the intensity of his gaze. But before you could lose yourself in the moment, you caught yourself and leaned back, a smirk on your lips as you tried to regain the upper hand.

“You know,” you said, your tone teasing, “if this is your way of convincing me to move in with you, you’re going to have to try harder. I’ve grown rather fond of my little room in Rivendell, and I’m not sure I’m ready to give up my bach pad just yet.”

His brow raised and lips quirking into a smile. “Oh? And what would it take to tempt you away from your ‘bach pad,’ as you call it? A private suite in the palace? Endless bouquets of flowers delivered daily? A personal chef to prepare all your meals?”

You pretended to consider his offer, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, those are all tempting…but I’m not sure. I mean, who’s going to teach Elrond about the wonders of modern technology if I’m not around?”

He laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter. “You make a good point. I’m not sure he’s ready to tackle the mysteries of the ‘microwave’ on his own.”

“I don’t think he’s even ready for to learn about the internet or the blender. However, he did take learning the TV, fairly,” you laughed.

“When you do, inform me for I would be interested in witnessing his utter confusion,” he replied with equal merriment.

You grinned, pleased with your little victory, but before you could bask in it for too long, Gil-galad leaned in once more, his expression suddenly serious. “But in all seriousness,” he said, his voice gentle, “I want you to know that wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. Whether it’s in Rivendell, here in my palace, or anywhere else…as long as we’re together, I’ll be happy.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for what to say. You had always known that he cared for you deeply, but hearing it spoken aloud, in such a simple, heartfelt way, made your chest tighten with emotion.

After a beat, you managed a smile, though it was softer now, more vulnerable. “I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And as much as I joke about it…I know that wherever you are, I’ll always feel at home.”

His hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Then that’s all I need,” he said quietly.

The moment stretched out between you, filled with a warmth and understanding that words couldn’t fully capture. It was in the way he looked at you, the way his hand fit perfectly around yours, the way the world seemed to fall away when you were together. Here, in that garden, under the stars of a world you never expected to call home, you found something you never knew you were searching for.

But even as you basked in the comfort of the moment, a flicker of mischief returned to your eyes. “But just so you know,” you added with a grin, “if you ever try to get me to wear one of those elaborate court attires, we might have a problem.”

Launching into another round of laughter, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night, he shook his head. “Noted,” he said, his eyes shining with affection. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But I have to say, I think you’d look stunning.”

You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Majesty. I prefer my sweatpants and t-shirts, thank you very much.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. “And that’s exactly how I like you,” he murmured, his voice filled with a warmth that made your heart grown warmer.

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[shirefantasies]

First off, congratulations on 300 followers 🎉 I’m a big fan of your work! I was wondering if you could write about the different elf characters and how they would react to realizing they have feelings for a hobbit! reader?

Thank you & my apologies for the late response on this one 😅 but this is a fun one so let's see!

The Elves Realizing Their Feelings for Hobbit!Reader

Thranduil

Denial penetrates every corner of the woodland king's mind- such a humble creature, known not in the slightest for their ways of allure, and yet you permeate his thoughts so! Surely it was your reaction to the sight of him, the simplicity of your manner that was ever so refreshing. Thranduil knows little more than reverence to a fault, cowing and great shows and yet…you see him. You treat him as anyone else. No fanfare, but no expectations either. No doubts. Thus he works to doubt you less, to make less assumptions about your ability and even jokes about your stature. He finds as you talk that you share a love of nature, all your reverence dedicated almost solely to the earth’s growing things, the way roots seek what they need. Thranduil does the same, you point out, and ever does he endure in his place of nourishment, but sometimes any plant needs a good repotting. Astute, very astute, and yet your words strike his heart like an arrow. You, he wishes to say, are his repotting. But perhaps he should put that more romantically… all the greatest shows of elvenkind for a mere hobbit. Who would have thought? Thranduil reflects with a fond, amazed smile.

Feren

From the moment he grabbed hold of you, knife pressed to the back of your neck, Feren puzzled at the way his heartbeat sped, not yours. You were no threat to him, you were nothing in fact save an intruder in his lord Thranduil's realm, one of many his patrol took into custody. You were the smallest, he noticed, and certainly the least deadly if the startled, pleading look in your eyes was anything to go off of. Why did you keep... No, he could hardly relent, not when he had orders to- "You are afraid?" He found himself whispering to you, hiding his gaze upon you by hovering it over you and the other hobbit. You nod and he begins to whisper words of comfort to you, explaining that while stubborn, his king was nothing if not benevolent and would likely simply detain you. No harm would come your way. When indeed Thranduil sentenced your odd company to imprisonment, he found himself strolling to your cell time and time again, offering you food and drink and answering your rapid fire of questions ranging from what would happen to you to soon what customs were practiced in the Woodland Realm. "I think this place is beautiful," you told him, "I think if I were to rot anywhere, I am glad that it is to be here." "I think so, too," Feren agreed, and why he spoke the next part he still did not know, "And I do not think that shall be your fate." It was not until he walked away from you, considering what things he might bring to show you, that he realized how attracted to you he truly had become.

Legolas

Finds himself studying you, gaze unable to fall from you for too long, searching your every movement. Suddenly his interest in hobbits has increased tenfold; in fact, Legolas begins speaking more to Frodo and Sam about their customs, favorite things back in the Shire. His heart swells further for it just as you, taking in with bright eyes every spray of harebell and piping hot cup of lavender tea with scones and little gift of courtship presented to the hobbit of one's dreams. Pastoral, joyful, many delights absent from the prince's own upbringing- what a breath of fresh air you are! But what does he say to you? If possible, the elven prince finds himself even quieter than normal, simply captivated by your every motion. As a result he leans upon conveyance through action, rushing to your defense in battle and being there to catch you when you fall, enjoying in the briefest moments the feeling of his hands about your waist.

Haldir

Years have worn him. Battles have hardened him. Customs have dictated he be free of emotion as much as possible, or else suppress display of them for decorum. You, by contrast, are so innocent, almost painfully so and every sight of your wide, shining eyes has Haldir swearing to protect you. The world cannot take away your wonder, your sweetness, the good you see in all people. Oh, he cannot even wish immortal life upon you for all its horrors, and does he even wish it for himself? The small being remaining within him cries out for your life, to be swept off to your Shire and work hard at cultivating joy above all else. While that future may not lie ahead of him, he seeks it in every question he asks, every story he requests. Often does he marvel at your hidden strengths and wonders, especially in such a deceptively small package.

Galadriel

Oh, the way you charm and flatter her! Someone so small yet without any fear in the world as you spill the sweetest words before her. Galadriel cannot help smiling, especially when you gently take her hand and she sees just how small yours looks in hers. She begins to dream of ways she could hold you, how she can reach down to cup your cheeks… And then without warning she is lost in reverie. Her space is yours and you all but have free rein of her home. All from these unexpected, wildly blossoming feelings. Secretly she wishes you would still seek her out, but Galadriel knows above all that that choice is yours. She will simply have to wait and see and hope each dream she shares of simple joys like a riverside walk or even drawing closer to you in greater, deeper ways from the recesses of her mind, are shared by you…

Lindir

These unfamiliar sensations he experiences in your presence can only be one thing. The desire to run his fingers through your curls, surely soft as they appear. The way you have become his muse, inspiring more than a single song. You have a greater appreciation for arts than Lindir must admit he would have expected of the Shire-folk, and your wonder has him wishing to experience it all again for the first time. Is he to speak these things aloud? Does he dare? Whatever might Lord Elrond think if his servant were to do such a thing? Not, of course, that he has not wished Lindir great happiness. Happiness. Your smile, so genuine, sincere as your bright words. Yes, you are happiness, and such cannot go unspoken, or perhaps unsung…

Elrond

Many words have been spoken of the quiet strength of hobbits, quite a few of them by the Lord of Imladris himself. You are no exception to this, appearing before him as a little blaze of fire unafraid to make demands at council. He cannot even fight, just chuckle and hear your terms, and he wonders if you take notice of the way the others look at his soft response. Why, he wonders, is he being so giving- simple appreciation for the pastoral little folk and all they symbolize for the joy and hope of the world? Perhaps, but a part of him is forced to admit… He is attracted to you. Much time has passed since Elrond has been met with such a force, and quite simply put it stirs something in him. Much as he has endured in this world, your desire to fight for every joy you've ever known rings true to Elrond's own creation of a house of comfort...in your own special way. He cannot help but smile as he listens to you.

Arwen

Developing a little habit for teasing you, Arwen always manages to slink behind you and offer to help you reach something off a high shelf, voice low and lips curved upward. She is older than her visage suggests, wiser, thus you are not the first hobbit to cross her path and she looks upon you with no great shock. She does, however, seek to show a greater level of respect than the so-called 'little folk' tend to be shown. During discussions with her father and the other elves, Arwen smiles and waves you forward, especially if you happen to be shy, then her affection only grows, a hand falling over your shoulder and her smile widening. The more time you spend together, the more this happens, Arwen taking your hand to wish you well, sliding a hand over your waist to move past you, even playfully nudging you when you run together and always keeping pace with you. She is comfortable with you, she realizes, happiest at your side, and that is when it sinks in: she loves you.

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[takenbypeter]

Hi! I absolutely ADORE your Wonka fics 😍 can I request? I would love either a sick fic where the reader is sick and Willy takes care of her or one where she gets injured or faints or whatever

Or just a classic jealousy fic because we all know once his chocolate takes off Willy will be very popular with the ladies aha

Please and thank you I love everything you write btw

Envious; To Be Or Not To Be That Is The Question

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1164

Business was booming in the Wonka store.

People were constantly coming in and out and candy was practically flying off the shelves. Willy became busy working in his factory and his shop, but he still always had time for you and you were always grateful for that.

Honestly speaking, you expected this, I mean how could you not? His chocolate was so stupenderrific.

What you didn’t expect, or rather, what you forgot about was the popularity of not just the chocolate but of the man behind the creations.

You noticed it a few times before. The way someone would give him a look or maybe chat with their friends and giggle while staring at Willy Wonka. It didn’t bother you so, because nobody ever really acted on anything and you knew Willy only had his eye on one person.

You.

But today? Today was a little different.

Today you had decided to visit the chocolatier, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for you.

When entering the chocolate store you immediately noticed the crowd. There were people practically everywhere, left and right. But even so, you could easily spot your darling a mile away.

He was currently occupied with customers showing them around the store, no doubt explaining his chocolate to them. Not wanting to interrupt of course, you opted to walking around yourself, snacking on some of the sweet treats here and there.

Munching on a silver lining you neared your partner, while still keeping your distance. You could hear Willy as he enthusiastically explained his methods and you couldn’t help but beam at his passion.

Watching in admiration a comment nearby pulled you out of your daze.

“That Mr.Wonka, his snacks are delicious.” You heard coming from a group of women beside you. You glanced at them quickly, noticing how they were openly gawking.

“His snacks aren’t the only thing that’s delicious,” said another, before they burst into giggles.

You shook your head, rolling your eyes at the remarks. You tried to pay no mind but they continued.

“You are so bad.”

“What? She’s right,” said another, “actually I might take a crack at that.”

You frown slightly, your eyebrows knitting together.

“He’s probably taken.”

“Couldn’t hurt to try.”

“He might be tired of his relationship anyway.”

You squint, growing upset as they continue in their discussions with the occasional laughs. Who talks like that? You watch in annoyance as the group travels to Willy Wonka. Honestly you were upset, but frankly you wanted to see how this all was going to go down.

Picking up a flower dessert the woman saunters to Willy, “gee Mr.Wonka, your ideas are oh so unique. You can really see your pure creativity in each and every one.”

“Well thank you,” says Willy, always appreciative to hear kind words.

“I would love to come to your factory and…taste test for you,” comments another one of the women butting ahead of her friend.

But Willy doesn’t seem to pick up on her tone, “I apologize but I’m not hiring at the moment.”

Unfortunately the latter woman is persistent.

“No, not for a job,” she laughed resting a hand on his shoulder, while her friends watched on, “I was thinking more of an after hours sort of special taste test.”

Willy stares at her with the same smile still on his lips, “why would you want to do that?”

At this point it’s impossible for you not to laugh at how oblivious he seemed about her advances.

The woman opens her mouth once more but unable to witness any further you stepped in. “Willy!” You exclaimed, gaining his attention along with the small group.

Willy’s smile broadened, expressing a goofy grin as he shifted his body towards you. “Darling! What are you doing here?” He asks enthusiastically, while you place a small kiss on his cheek as you near.

“Oh nothing, just stopping by,” you respond before turning to the group feigning surprise at your own interruption, “oh I’m sorry. I’d like to thank you all for supporting my Willy’s dream. It means the world to me and him that he has your support,” you glance to the last woman taking note of the obscure expression decorating her face.

“Oh did I interrupt?”

“Nope. We were just about done” says Willy. He thanks the attendees before tugging you to the opposite side that’s less crowded.

“You are hilarious…Mr.Wonka,” you tease, your tone light.

His head tilts, clearly confused by your words.

“That woman,” you point with your eyes at the scene you two left behind, “she was desperately flirting.”

Willy’s eyelids lift, his eyes widened at this news, “with who?” He glances around trying to match the suitor.

“With you.”

He bends his hand placing the tips of his fingers on his chest as if questioning, ‘me?’ And you nod in response.

Willy’s lips curled downwards in thought, but then his face contorted to an even more curious one.

“Huh?”

You raise a brow at that, “what?”

“Nothing,” he brushes.

But then, “huh?”

You shake your head, a smile threatening to break through, “that’s a double huh. Spill it.”

Willy shifted to you the smile of his own widening, “did you perhaps…get envious?”

That is not a discussion you were expecting to have at this moment.

“I have no idea what you’re going on about,” you protest, yet the smile on your face expresses something else.

“See I don’t think that’s entirely true,” he pointed out crossing his arms, “because A, your face right now tells me otherwise, and B, you interrupted my tour.”

Willy had a point there. Typically when you came in and he was busy discussing, whether it be with a group or an individual, you always waited until he was absolutely free. However, this time, you did not.

But still…“you’re imagining things,” you tease, your eyes leaving his, unable to willingly admit the facts.

“Uh-huh, okay. Well…”

He leans over faster than you realize, with his lips coming in contact flush against your own. Before he retracts himself.

“It’s flattering that you feel so strongly about me.”

“Yeah, well…yeah,” is all you say bashful enough of your own feelings, “but how could you not notice her advances?” You’re genuinely curious because it all was so obvious.

He shrugged a dazed look on his expression, “I guess it’s easy to give no thought to those things, when I’ve already got something so special with you.”

Feeling your cheeks gain in warmth you glance away clearing your throat in bashfulness, “woah, I thought chocolate was your expertise not cheesiness.”

He laughed along with you, “eh who knows, maybe I can try to branch out into the cheesy side of things.”

You open your mouth but are interrupted by another inquiring customer who gains the chocolatier's attention.

Standing aside and letting him be you observe, pondering on how thankful you are to have found this man.

And suddenly gaining in curiousness…does he get jealous?

[eddieschains]

Smoke And Mirrors

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

TW// 18+, slut shaming kinda, marijuana consumption, slight bondage, oral (m receiving), humping, let me know if i missed anything !!

You and Eddie rarely ever fought. And when you did, it was always resolved within an hour or so. This time was different. You knew you crossed a line as soon as you said it, but you weren’t sure how to apologize.

Honestly, you were usually pretty calm during your arguments. You never screamed at each other, and both of you made up soon after it was over. This time though, you weren’t sure how to recover.

It was the dumbest thing you’d ever fought over, and you’d fought over some stupid shit. You came into the auto shop to bring Eddie lunch, and saw a pretty blonde girl talking to him at the counter. The way she batted her eyelashes and flicked her hair over her shoulder was all too much for your jealousy to handle.

You kept it cool at the shop, not wanting to cause a disruption. But as soon as he walked through the apartment door, all hell broke loose. You know you shouldn’t have snapped at him the way you did, but your emotions couldn’t help themselves sometimes.

“Who was that girl?” You interrogate with your hands on your hips, and your head cocked to the side.

He hadn’t even taken his shoes off at the door before you started going in. “What girl?” He scoffs, hanging his coat on the rack.

“The girl. The one at the shop. Giving you those fuck me eyes.” You walk closer to him, wanting to see how his face reacted to your questions.

He sighs as he takes his shoes off and makes his way to the kitchen for an after work beer. “No one was giving me fuck me eyes, babe.”

“I fucking saw it!” You follow him into the kitchen, hovering over him wherever he moved. “Don’t act dumb with me, I know what I saw. And you didn’t seem to want to stop it either.”

“Just because a girl comes in the shop and tries to flirt her way into a deal doesn’t mean i’m gonna stop being nice. It’s called customer service.” He groans, making his way to the couch and turning on the TV, obviously trying to stop the argument from happening.

“Customer service.” You scoff, standing on the other end of the couch. “Yeah, sure looked like you were ready to service that fucking customer.”

He slams his beer on the coffee table and turns to look at you. “Can you fucking stop? I wasn’t flirting with her, I don’t want her. I want you. If she was flirting with me then that’s on her, not me.”

“I find that quite hard to believe coming from a man who used to throw his dick around for any girl who wanted the slightest deal on their drugs in school.” The second you said it, you regretted it. It was a sensitive topic that he didn’t like remembering. He told you about that part of his life in confidence, and here you were using it against him.

His face immediately dropped, you weren't sure if it was anger or sadness, but you knew either one wasn’t good. He stood up and started putting his shoes and coat on before grabbing his keys from the bowl by the door.

“Where are you going?” Your tone is a bit softer now, knowing you’re treading through deep water.

“M’leaving. If you want to sit here and berate me over something that didn’t even happen, then have at it. But I'm not gonna fucking take it.” He walks out, slamming the door behind him making you wince.

Once you hear his van speed off, you run your hands across your face, racking your brain around how you’d fix this. You sit in bed for about an hour, waiting for him to come back before you finally accept the fact that he’ll come back on his own once he calms down. Which you also knew could take a while.

You decide to take a shower and get ready for bed, not expecting him to come back any time soon. You’re able to calm your own anxiety down a bit as the hot water rushes over your body. Once you’re done with your shower, you spend a little extra time in there collecting your thoughts, thinking of ways to apologize once Eddie does return.

When you make your way into the bedroom, you’re met with Eddie sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the TV with a joint in his mouth. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence, even though you know he’s not high enough to not realize you’re standing right next to him.

“Didn’t hear you come in.” You state as you walk towards the dresser to fish out some pajamas.

“Been here for about 20 minutes. You were in the shower.” He responds, taking a hit off of his joint and keeping his eyes on the TV.

You grab some night clothes and place them on the bed, sighing as you walk over to him. “I’m sorry… I-I shouldn’t have said what I did. I know that was a low blow and- I’m just sorry.” Eddie stays silent, not giving you the time of day with even some eye contact. He just sits there and continues smoking and watching TV. “Can you at least look at me, please? I’m really sorry, I am. Just tell me how to make it up to you and- and I’ll do it.” Eddie finally looks up at you with little to no emotion behind his eyes. You try to read his thoughts, but there truly is nothing there to work with.

“Come here.” He says flatly, spreading his legs open as an invitation for you to stand between them. You make your way over, nudging yourself in between his thighs as you hold your towel up and look down at him. He takes the joint out of his mouth and presses it against yours. You open up slightly as he places it between your lips. “Turn around.”

You abide, turning around while still holding your towel up by your chest. He wraps his arms around your upper body, taking your wrists in his hands and pulling your arms down, allowing the towel to drop at your feet. You shudder as the cold air hits your body, causing goosebumps to appear along your skin.

He lets go of your wrists, letting your arms hang at your sides as you hear him play with the buckle of his belt. Your body tenses as you wonder what his next move will be. He shimmies the belt out of the loops and grabs your wrists again, pulling them together behind your back. He wraps the belt around them, tying it in place so you can’t move out of the restraint.

He places his hands on your hips and turns you to face him once again. “Now…” He starts as he pulls his shirt above his head, and lowers his pants slightly to reveal a smidge of his happy trail. “You’re gonna sit right here, and you’re gonna rub your little cunt along my stomach until you cum all over me.”

You look at him dumbfounded. Unsure as to what kind of satisfaction this would really bring either of you, but you still decide to do as he says. You straddle his lap, pulling yourself higher up so you’re sat on his lower stomach as you feel the thick hair of his happy trail brush against your clit, sending a shiver down your body. He takes the joint from your mouth and plops it back in his, taking a long hit before blowing it directly in your face. “Go on, then.”

You start to grind yourself into him, immediately understanding exactly why he wanted you to do this. The feeling of his coarse hair on his lower stomach gliding against your clit was way more satisfactory than you thought it would be. Eddie doesn’t react at all. Even with your growing arousal pouring around him, he makes no noise, and no movement. That is until you feel his hands come up to your hips, stilling them for a moment.

He moves down to the corner of the bed, facing the full length mirror perched against the wall. “I need to see how needy your pussy is for just my stomach.” You let out a breathy moan at his words before going back to pushing yourself up and down his little happy trail.

Eddie keeps his eyes on the mirror, watching your slick coat his skin as you glide around him, and the way you try to writhe out of the belt with every shift. He keeps one hand by his side, while the other continues to pull the joint in and out of his mouth. You speed up your movements, hoping to gain some sort of reaction out of him. But, it only results in a larger reaction from yourself.

Your breathing gets heavy with every brush against your clit, your moans get raspier and more frequent as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. You know Eddie can feel it. He can always tell by the way your pussy pulses and throbs around him, exactly how it was right now.

“Eddie… I’m- I’m close.” You pant, only moving faster on top of him.

He takes a long drag, blowing it out above your head. “I said you were gonna keep going until you came all over me. So, cum.” He says completely emotionless. You bury your head in his chest, panting and moaning as you rock faster and harder into him, his thick hair creating just the right amount of friction against your sensitive bud.

“Fuck, Eddie… I’m gonna… fuck I’m gonna-” You can’t even finish your sentence before your legs begin to shake as your orgasm rushes over you. You fall into his chest as you paint his entire lower stomach in your slick.

“Good girl.” He coos, still not a lot of emotion in his tone. You keep your head buried in his chest as you try to catch your breath, before he brings his hand to your face. He grabs you by the jaw, moving your head so that you’re looking up at him. “Open up.” He taps your lips with his index finger as you open wide. He holds the joint in between his fingers, placing it in his mouth before inhaling a large amount of smoke and blowing it directly into yours.

He drags his thumb from your top lip to your bottom, making you close your mouth as he looks at you with a raised eyebrow. You look up at him, holding it in for a moment before blowing it out right into his face. He chuckles softly, the most emotion you’ve gotten out of him all night.

You start to slide off of him as you feel the growing bulge in his pants. You look up at him with a smirk, and he cocks his head to the side. “You got yourself into this mess, you’re gonna get yourself out of it. Get on your knees and put that fucking mouth to work.”

You nod, sliding down onto your knees in front of him. You try to move your hands to pull his pants down before you remember they’re tied behind you. “My hands are behind my back.”

“And they’re gonna stay like that.” He says sternly. He lifts his hips off the bed slightly, before pushing his jeans down with his boxers and allowing them to pool at his ankles. Your mouth salivates at the sheer image of his hard cock springing up to his stomach. “Well… It’s not gonna suck itself.”

You lick your lips and scoot closer to him, kissing the tip and kitten licking around it. He reaches down and squeezes your cheeks together, making your lips purse out. “Did I say I wanted you to tease me?” You look at him and shake your head. “I said suck it. So… suck.it.”

Your eyes glisten as you give him a look of agreement before he lets go of your face. You lick a hard stripe from the base to the tip to coat him in your saliva before taking him all in your mouth. You moan immediately as you're met with the taste of him, the small amount of precum leaking out of his tip and coating your tastebuds.

You look up at him as you begin to bob your head up and down, hoping to see him with his eyes closed and head thrown back like normal. But instead, he just stares as he lights up another joint, inhaling and blowing it out in your face as you take his cock as far as you can.

You try your best to keep your eyes on him, trying to gain some kind of reaction as you swivel your mouth around him every time you reach the tip again. Nothing. Usually, you’d be quite irritated by the fact that he hasn’t shown you the slightest amount of pleasure in all of this other than his hard cock, but honestly, it was kind of turning you on even more than normal.

Being tied up and used for his liking is only making your already dripping cunt grow wetter. You speed up your movements, taking him deeper with every stroke of your mouth until he hits the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

“See how much better it is when your mouth is full of my cock and not bullshit accusations?” You hum around him, not wanting to risk a punishment of letting go. You breathe deep through your nose to allow you to keep going once you feel his cock start to throb inside of you.

Turning your eyes back to his, you see them twitch as he gets closer to reaching his own high. You smirk around him before deciding to go full on. You straighten your back so that you’re able to reach the top of him easier as you take him down your throat as fast and hard as possible, hollowing your cheeks at the same time to create a tighter space for him.

Your tits bounce up and down with every bob of your head, and you feel his legs start to stiffen. You think you hear a small moan escape from his mouth, so you look up at him through your eyelashes to see his mouth slightly agape as his left hand fists the sheets below him.

“Keep fucking going.” He growls through gritted teeth, placing the joint back in his mouth as he removes his gaze from you and places it on the mirror behind you. Your head is moving so fast that it’s making the bed bounce below him.

His legs spasm below your chest as he twitches in your mouth. You suck him a few more times, squeezing your cheeks around the shaft of his cock before the taste of his cum spills inside your mouth without warning. You keep sucking, wanting to milk him for everything he’s worth as you feel spurt after spurt coating the entirety of your tongue and throat. You swallow him down while he’s still in your mouth, making him twitch again before you keep sucking.

His legs begin to shake as he squirms underneath you, groaning profanities above you and fisting the sheets with both hands now, getting ash from the joint all over the bed. You snicker quietly as you watch him struggle to keep his composure, before he’s gripping you by the hair and pulling you off of him.

“Jesus, I said suck my dick not take my whole soul.” He chuckles breathlessly, brushing your hair out of your face, finally showing you some kind of affection.

“S’too good. Couldn’t help myself.” You smile, licking your lips of his taste.

“C’mere.” He places his hand around your jaw, softly this time as he pulls you up and kisses you with more of a sense of love than lust.

You hum softly into his mouth before pulling back. “I really am sorry, baby.”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, I forgive you.” He smiles and places a peck to your forehead as he reaches behind you and unties the belt from your wrists. “This time…” He smirks with a smack to your ass.

[jenscx]

MY DARLING — jang wonyoung x f!reader

you were just living a quaint life in a bookstore, until a stranger barges in on a rainy day, evidently changing your life.

TAGS — very fluffy, princess!wonyoung, slight angst, jealousy (tiny), commoner!yn, flirty wony

WORDCOUNT — 3.9k

the 10th of august, 1820. you sigh at the raindrops splashing against the glass windows, tinted with a slight hue of blue. the bookstore was rarely this quiet but with everything going on in the royal castle, perhaps it was to be expected.

“no customers yet?” you whip your head up, frowning. eunbi, the owner of the bookstore and the one who had raised you, stood at the top of the flight of creaky, wooden stairs. you shake your head, “aren’t the nobles trying to popularise reading? i don’t think it is working too well.”

eunbi laughs. “sure. the literature we sell here isn’t too demanding of their literary skills. and the nobles only flock to poetry, maybe it’s time we expanded our small library.”

your eyes brighten at the thought of an increased variety of books. even though you adored the selection here, it was starting to get quite boring. the constant romance themes evident in every single book was rather… annoying.

“hm, perhaps we should close up for the day, it’s rather late and the rain is heavy. i don’t think anyone else will bear with the storm just for a quick read,” eunbi suggests and you comply immediately, packing up the stacks of papers standing tall at the counter. you were just scribbling on them to rid your boredom.

“i’ll be upstairs if you need me,” she calls out before heading up once more. you sigh again. just as you were about to close the curtains shut, the door slams open and you almost squeal.

a mysterious hooded figure stands before you, heaving up and down as quick breathes escape them.

“uhm, apologies but we are closing for the day,” you say. the figure turns and you roll your eyes. their cloak was dripping rainwater all over the mahogany wood floors that you had just polished that morning!

“terribly sorry for the intrusion,” they (you raise an eyebrow at the feminine voice) mumble, “i needed a place to get away.”

“right, i don’t really care because you are ruining my flooring, so could you take that damn cloak off?”

the person immediately does so, revealing the white fitted bodice that clung to the woman’s skin, almost translucent and you feel a blush creeping up your neck.

“you are… soaked.”

“yes, quite obviously.”

you turn away from her, eyes avoiding her own narrowing gaze as she was quite literally the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen.

“i’ll get you a cloth to clean yourself up with,” you mutter while the girl nods and proceeds to walk along the shelves.

if you weren’t so distracted by her apparent beauty, you would be more conscious of how familiar she looked.

moments later, you return with a cloth, and the stranger was peering at one of the many books that lined the shelves.

“fan of jane austen?” you smile when she jumps slightly at your sudden voice, “that is one of her most popular pieces of literature; pride and prejudice from 1813. though we do have earlier pieces such as ann radcliffe’s the romance of the forest, 1791.”

the woman nods, “aren’t you quite acquainted with books? any suggestions?”

“hm, perhaps persuasion by jane austen if you’re a fan, but do read most of her writings, it’s incredible.”

“what about playwrights? anyone that you’ve taken a liking to?” she asks.

you think for a while, “elizabeth inchbald. i thought lovers’ vows was spectacular. shame i couldn’t see it, sometimes i wished i was born earlier.”

“i always thought that it was too controversial and morally ambiguous for people to adore it. thankfully i’ve found someone of my own,” she says, a twinkle in her eye that you can’t help but feel your heartbeat race at. she daps at her neck with the cloth and you evert your eyes.

“a-anyway, what brings you here? you’ve distracted me from closing up.”

she places the book back into its original position and furrows her brows, “do you not recognise who i am?”

you tilt your head and lean on the bookshelves, “no, not particularly. am i meant to?”

“yes, but i’d rather you stay unknowing. if we were to be… friends, could i ask that you never try to find my identity?”

“could i at least know your name? or something to call you?”

“of course, i haven’t introduced myself. you can call me wonyoung.” wonyoung, you think, it’s a pretty name.

she flashes a gleaming smile at you, “could i know yours?”

“y/n,” you reply, “what brings you here?”

wonyoung’s posture slackens and you take the time to admire her luscious black hair that was tied into a bun with small curls and waves. you unconsciously swallow your saliva as wonyoung answers you.

“just running from my responsibilities. quite lucky of me to end up in a quaint bookstore with you, to be frank.”

your eyes trail down from her face to her collarbones, mouth going dry at the sight of her neck. god, you think, clenching your eyes shut.

“you all right? your cheeks are… flushed,” you spot a hint of a teasing smile on her face.

“how old are you?” wonyoung asks suddenly.

“i’m eighteen this year.”

“oh, i’m eighteen as well.”

you grin, “what responsibilities could you have at eighteen? we’re the same age, yet i’m just working at a bookstore.”

wonyoung shakes her head, almost sullen, “you have no clue how hectic it is back there. if here is shallow water, when i go back there, i’ll drown in the tsunami.”

“how poetic.”

“impressive, isn’t it?”

you giggle first and wonyoung’s laughter joins soon after. her laugh is melodic and soothing, a breather. it’s like you’ve just found your oasis.

and maybe she’s found hers.

your night is spent alone. no wonyoung to fill the empty spaces of silence apart from the occasional footsteps outside of the bookstore. you spent all day with her, or rather the rest of the day until she deemed too late to reach home. no matter how hard you try, your mind ends up wandering and you dream of rosy cheeks with a bunny smile.

you awake the next morning with a letter at your doorstep, addressed in neat calligraphy.

dear y/n,

i could not tell you how much i enjoyed yesterday, it was an eye-opening experience. i am definitely the luckiest person ever. i can’t believe how lucky i was to enter your bookstore and meet you. i hope we stay acquainted forever. send your reply to this address, i will wait for it.

sincerely yours,

wonyoung

if it were from anyone else, you would have found it desperate, or creepy. but even after a day of meeting wonyoung, you were enchanted.

hence, you quickly draft up a letter, perhaps she could see how much desperation there was in the messily scrawled handwriting for you to see her again.

it took almost no time for you and her to communicate daily through letters. even though you only met her three weeks ago, it felt like you’ve known her forever. wonyoung was your everything. and maybe you were her everything too. she was the part of your routine you looked most forward to.

eunbi had questioned you about your sudden enthusiasm and happiness. after all, she had been your caregiver since she had taken you in and you were never this dreamy.

wonyoung would sometimes drop by during the evening and you would spend a few hours together before she had to leave. it was the highlight of your week. a few hours would be all you could have, until a letter arrives at your doorstep.

my darling y/n,

how have you been? i found that book you’ve been raving about. i must extend my apologies for reading it beforehand, you were just too excited about it that i had to read it for myself. anyway, would your bed be free tonight? could i spend the night at your bookstore? my parents finally gave me permission to do so. i do hope you’re free, if not i’ll be missing you terribly.

sincerely yours,

wonyoung

you almost crumple up the letter in excitement. wonyoung was finally sleeping over? it was a joyous celebration. you swiftly write back, hoping that the letter would reach her in time. it always did, surprisingly. you weren’t sure if the post was meant to work that fast. you were counting down the seconds for when she would arrive and when the grandfather clock struck six thirty in the evening, a knock resounded on the door.

“wonyoung!” you squeal, rushing into her arms and burying your face into the crook of her neck. physical touch had become common between you and her, initiated by her at first but mostly done by you now. you could not resist feeling the warmth her body gave off.

“good evening, yn,” she breathes out, “i almost tripped on the way here. i was so exhilarated when i received your letter.”

you grin, quickly locking up the doors and closing the curtains. wonyoung lingers around you, a bag of clothes at her feet, you presume it contained her sleepwear.

“darling,” you feel a shiver go down your spine at her voice, “shall we head up?”

you nod and interlock hands with wonyoung, dragging her up the stairs and heading into your bedroom. your bed wasn’t tiny, but with wonyoung’s height, her feet would be dangling off the edge since your mattress was wider and not lengthy.

“you can change here, i’ll just look away,” you say.

“what if i want you to look?”

your cheeks heat up and you cover your eyes, “shut up, you flirt.”

“my sincerest apologies,” wonyoung says slowly, “do you not like it when i flirt with you?” you roll your eyes. she would always ask questions which she knew the answers to. wonyoung just wanted the satisfaction of you saying it out loud.

“i like it,” you mutter, embarrassed.

“you’re adorable,” she laughs and starts to untie the laces on her corset to reveal her shift under. you take this as your cue to turn away.

a few minutes pass and wonyoung finally says, “i’m done. you can turn around now.”

she was adorned in a long light blue night rail with lace linings. you still thought she was the prettiest girl to ever walk the earth.

wonyoung flops onto your bed and you join her.

“blow out the candle, won't you?” wonyoung requests. without the light of the candle, you can only see her face that is illuminated by the moonlight.

you both slip under the sheets, facing each other. your eyes trail along her features and your fingers ache to trace them.

“how was your day? you never answered me in your reply.”

“you were genuinely asking? i thought you asked as a formality,” you chuckle at her affronted expression.

she rolls her eyes, “of course i was genuine! i’m always interested in what you have to say.”

“why are you being so cheeky today? so many flirtatious remarks,” her long arms wrap around your waist and you giggle.

“i’m just naturally like that,” wonyoung smiles, “and you like it, don’t you?”

you nod shyly.

“i do.”

“then i’ll stay this way. be whatever that you like.”

“i like you,” you confess.

wonyoung blinks slowly. your words and sincere tone seeping into her heart as a large grin overtakes her face.

“and i adore you.”

your night, unlike the first, was spent wrapped up in wonyoung’s embrace. warmth covering your body and a smile across your face the entire time you slept. it was the most peaceful night you’ve had. yet, as all things go, it was just the calm before the storm.

something had been bothering you, wonyoung could tell. after that night spent together, you and her were inseparable. but the more time you had together, the more it seemed like you were drifting away in your thoughts.

“darling?” you turn around in her embrace, “are you all right?”

“yes, i’m totally fine. couldn’t be better than being here with you.”

“i feel the same but, are you certain? it just feels like something is bothering you. if anything, could you tell me?” wonyoung asks. your body visibly tenses up and even in the dark, she could still see how your face was contemplating.

“why did you ask me to never search for your identity?”

wonyoung suddenly unwraps her arms from around your waist. you miss her warmth instantly.

“why are you bringing this up now?” she counter asks.

you frown. “just remembered it. i was reminiscing the first time we met.”

“ah.”

“also because eunbi has been asking me about you and i don’t know what to tell her. i realised i don’t know much about you and i want to change that,” you explain.

wonyoung’s breath hitches.

“eunbi? have you mentioned my name to her?”

“no, i wasn’t too sure if i should have… wonyoung, seriously, what’s this whole ordeal with your identity? can’t you just tell me?” you ask.

you decide not to mention the fact that you have actually questioned eunbi about wonyoung. the amount of warning signs about her identity had been increasing daily and you weren’t so certain about how much you could trust wonyoung anymore.

“you’re lying,” wonyoung states.

“what?”

“you know my identity.”

“wonyoung, love—”

she separates herself from you immediately and sits upright. your bubble of tranquillity bursts and the peaceful future you’ve created for the two of you was ruined.

“i told you. i specifically told you not to go looking!” her voice raises, “and you still do? and i know you’re lying to my face! you know that…”

you can’t stand it anymore. “that you’re the princess? of course i do! how could i not remember your face and name plastered everywhere? are you not aware of how influential you are? the media has been going insane at how your birthday ball was going to be the highlight of this century! but this doesn’t mean i love you less!”

“it’s not about that! you betrayed my trust. how could you? it was the first thing i’ve ever told you; don’t go looking for my identity! and i… this isn’t going to work out. i apologise, but i have to leave,” wonyoung hisses and quickly jumps out of your bed. you can only stare in silence as she packs up her clothes and leaves out the door.

you sit there on your cotton sheets, stunned at how the evening’s played out. a sigh escapes your lips and your heart aches at the forlorn expression that wonyoung had.

you couldn’t believe that wonyoung had just left like that. you thought she would at least hear you out and it wasn’t as if you yourself had gone looking for her identity! her name was basically on every single piece of news article, how could you not know? and wonyoung wasn’t a popular name.

perhaps everything will be normal in the morning. wonyoung’s letter would show up at your doorstep, apologising for how she acted and you would still forgive her.

needless to say, you were wrong. there was no letter, and definitely no bouquet of tulips that normally accompanied the letter.

“i saw the princess stomping out, did you two have a fall out?” eunbi asks. you nod, sulking.

“she found out that i knew she was the princess and she wasn’t too enthusiastic about it.”

eunbi thinks for a moment. “aren’t you going to try to chase after her? wouldn’t it be right?”

“why should i? she said we weren’t going to work out.” repeating those words brought a new level of pain.

your caregiver laughs, “that’s exactly what sakura said as well and she ended up grovelling.”

you raise an eyebrow. “who’s sakura?”

“some foreign lady. anyway, are you going to write to her or not? her birthday’s coming up soon.”

“her birthday,” you repeat, “i could just go to her birthday banquet.” eunbi blinks, “i did not mean that but sure.”

you have a newfound sense of confidence. wonyoung couldn’t do anything if you just went to her banquet, right? well, she could just order for the guards to take you out but it was open to commoners. there was a dress code but wonyoung had gifted you a pretty expensive dress recently.

“august 30th, it starts at eleven in the evening,” eunbi informs you, “you do know your way to the castle? i have other plans that night.”

“yes, of course. thank you for the idea!” you smile. as you head off back into your room, thoughts of seeing wonyoung again run through your mind.

the day had finally come. your hair was parted in the middle with your bangs curled that occasionally twitched your eyes. your bust was pushed up ever so slightly by a tight fitting corset. you had a low cut violet gown and white gloves that extended up to your elbows.

the closer you got to the palace, the more your confidence dwindled. what if wonyoung orders for the guards to escort you out? it would be ironic for you to show up at her banquet, where she would have to reveal her identity. you shiver at the thought of wonyoung’s distrustful gaze.

what happened to staying together until death parts you two? wonyoung had been so romantic with her words, maybe it was all faux.

you shake your head. you couldn’t think of that! now, you just had to reassure her that her identity revelation would not change anything. and maybe you could even try to revert to the same relationship status as before. once you enter the ballroom, you’re surrounded by nobles and commoners alike, all dressed to the nines. you scan the room, hoping to see wonyoung.

“goodness,” one of the more fashionably dressed nobles say, “dukes from high society are starting to court her already. i heard that many are offering their whole family wealth for her hand.”

your face falls. of course there would be people wanting to court her. wonyoung was so angelic and there would be no reason for rich dukes to not throw themselves at her.

“good evening, my lady,” you spin around, facing an older woman with a rather disgruntled young man, “could i ask where you are from?” luckily, eunbi had trained you beforehand.

“miyawaki y/n,” you lie through your teeth, “i’m not from around here, just passing through to visit the princess.”

“splendid! i am from the house of lee and this is my son, heeseung,” the woman exclaims, “i thought you were a perfect match for him.”

your eye twitches.

“ah, yes.”

“i’ll leave you two to get acquainted, hopefully by the end of this ball, you will be dancing with each other.”

“my lady will not be dancing with anyone,” your heart leaps. an arm links around yours and you almost instinctively lean into the familiar warmth.

the woman stands rooted to the ground while heeseung quickly scurries off.

“m-my sincerest apologies! i did not know,” she bows. wonyoung waves a hand at her and turns to look at you instead.

before the crowd starts to gather around you, wonyoung turns her head and swiftly drags you by the wrist through the many nobles.

“wony— princess!” you shriek.

she pulls you into an empty room, away from peering eyes and eavesdroppers. her gaze on you is heavy with emotion and you can barely get a chance to identify them before she speaks.

“what on earth compelled you to come here?”

“i just wanted to see you. you ran off rather quickly last night, much like that heeseung boy.”

“y/n, you can’t just show up here looking like that. i… i told you once you found out who i really was, we could never truly be together,” wonyoung sighs.

you frown, “so you weren’t going to try anyway? were you just going to love me when it was convenient? what happened to all those sweet promises you’ve made to me?”

“i can’t keep those promises if the public found out we were together,” wonyoung clasps your hands together.

“so you were just loving me for the hell of it.”

“i sacrificed lots for you.”

“but you still can’t be with me.” you take wonyoung’s silence as her answer. there’s tears welling up in your eyes and wonyoung’s gaze darts to them instantly.

you tear your hands away from hers to wipe your tears falling down your cheeks.

“this has been… eye-opening. since we were never going to work out anyway, i should take my leave. sorry for taking up your time when you should have been spending it celebrating. happy birthday.”

your heart aches. the beats slow down but you feel like it’s been crushed into little bits, which were then thrown into molten lava and rebuilt. then crushed again by wonyoung.

“wait a moment, don’t…”

“i should have know it would have ended up like this. i’m deeply sorry again, your highness,” you say coldly, bowing.

wonyoung’s mouth is open, almost like she wants to say something. but you can’t be with someone who contradicts herself every time.

“darling,” the nickname slips out and you feel sobs wreck your body, “don’t cry, wait, please.”

“my love, please look at me, please don’t walk away, i was a fool. i wasn’t thinking at all,” wonyoung rambles out, “please stay and listen, which is ironic, i realise but i can’t believe i thought i could ever live life without you. i need you. i was just scared of what they would say, but it doesn’t matter to me anymore. i realised that you’re my only light and i will never find someone better than you. it was all my doing, i never meant to hurt you like this. i’m the one who should be saying sorry.”

wonyoung stares at you, affection and longing in her eyes. so that’s what it was.

“i’m not forgiving you just yet. you still hurt my feelings.”

“of course. i’ll grovel for eternity for your forgiveness.”

you sniffle and slap her cheek lightly, not enough to even hurt.

“i hate that you can make me feel like this.”

“like what?” she asks, looking down at you.

“like everything’s okay.”

“is everything not okay?”

a smile overtakes your face, tears still dripping down your cheeks but you feel contrary.

“don’t ever do that again,” you fling your arms over her shoulders and instinctively, her hands go around your waist.

“i adore you, and if i were to ever hurt you intentionally, please just execute me on the spot,” she whispers into your ear, making you giggle.

“executing the princess is illegal, i would be given the death sentence as well.”

“then we would be together in the afterlife at least.”

“you are such a dork.”

“only yours.”

(to my darling y/n,

i hope everything’s all right back at the bookstore. could i drop by sometime later? maybe we could even read belinda by maria edgeworth. i’ve heard it is quite a worthy read. your wedding gown is gorgeous, for your information, i reckon i’ll sob at the alter. as always, do tell me about your day later. i will be counting down the minutes until i can see your beautiful face. i love you.

forever yours,

wonyoung

to my princess,

of course you can drop by. i’m expecting more books to arrive later in the afternoon. unfortunately for you, i’ve already read belinda but i will reread it with you if you want. i hope you’re doing well back at the castle; how’s the wedding preparations going? tell me all about it later. i’ll be counting down the minutes as well. i love you too.

your darling,

y/n)

[thedreamlessnights]

Someone to shed some light - pt. 1

Astarion x gn!reader (Upcoming NSFW)

{series masterlist}

Synopsis: After being raised as a commoner, you find yourself as the last in a royal bloodline, forced into a marriage with someone you've never met. He's more than he seems. AKA: An arranged marriage AU with everyone's favorite vampire.

Warnings: Brief mentions of blood, death, and minor injuries. Mentions of sex, but nothing particularly graphic. Very brief, not graphic suicidal ideation.

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This idea possessed me and did not let me go. I don't know where it came from, or how on earth it's already 6k. I'm feral for Astarion, and it just... happened. Anyway. The royalty aspects are not remotely lore-accurate to the Baldur's Gate games, for which I apologize. Sometimes you just have to make shit up.

If reality is meant to be believable, then you must be in a dream. 

No one ever said what kind of dream, though. Not a dream you’d wanted, that’s for sure. Most days, this all feels like some horrible nightmare. But maybe, just maybe - if you close your eyes and stay exactly where you are, thinking about nothing at all - it could be a nice one. 

The palace gardens are beautiful, after all. Even this place can’t ruin that. 

Silver moonlight shines on the earth below, giving everything a ghostly cast. Soft, silky wind brushes against your skin, and the faint aroma of flowers fills the air. Honeysuckle. Roses. Lilies. 

Yes. If you shut your eyes tight and pretended everything else away, it would be a nice dream. But you know better. Beyond the lovely gardens and the ornamented walls, this place is a prison. And never, not in a thousand years, could you have pictured anything like this happening to you. 

Not even in a dream.

You’ve never been one to fantasize about being royalty. Riches and power simply don’t appeal to you that way, especially not when comfortable clothes and the freedom to be yourself are traded in for the sake of discomfort and diplomacy. 

Still, the reality of it is somehow even worse than you’d thought. The clothes pinch at your sides and itch at your neck, and you can’t move in them the way you want to. Everything you’ve worn is stiff and tight and ridiculously heavy, as if all your outfits were made for a doll, not for someone alive. Then again, maybe that was the intention. You certainly feel like a puppet. 

If only none of it was real. 

You still haven’t accepted any of it, not really. It’s as if you’re waiting for someone in the shadows to jump out at you and laugh, telling you it was all pretend. Of course you aren’t royalty, they’d say. Of course you don’t belong here. And you’d go back to your home, where everything is right, where you belong. 

You can still see it all in your mind, so real that it’s practically touchable. The thought of it never fully fades. Just as soon as you’ve closed your eyes, you find yourself reliving that day once more.

The smell of baking bread floods a warm room. The heat of the fire sears the air. Customers bustle in and out, laughing and drinking and picking fights. Home. The way you’ve always known it. The way you’ve always loved it.

Then the room slowly goes silent. Wary. Palace guards lurk in the doorway, their eyes sweeping over the crowd, and your fingers immediately itch for your knife. The crown hasn’t any business in this place - what could they want?

When one of them steps inside, gazing at the crowd like they’re dirt beneath his feet, it takes everything you’ve got in you to stay calm. You can practically hear Cal’s voice in your head, telling you to take some deep breaths.

As the guard stalls in front of you, he stares. His gaze runs over you slowly, like you were less than he’d expected - a disappointment to him without even trying. “You,” he says. “You’re coming with us. Queen’s orders.”

Every pair of eyes in the inn land on you. Your heart starts beating so fast and rough that you’re sure it’ll burst straight through your ribs and fall out of you. The room spins. You’re biting your tongue, resisting the urge to pick a fight, because Cal is shaking his head and tugging at your sleeve. The single voice of reason in this place. Blood slowly fills your mouth with the taste of iron. 

And you go with them. For some godsdamned reason, you go.

As soon as you’ve left, you know it was a mistake. There’s a whole troop here - enough men to tell you that you’re considered a threat, somehow. Enough men to keep your arms folded into you, wondering what in the hells you could have done to warrant this attention. 

Despite everything, you force yourself to maintain some dignity, keeping your shoulders squared until you get to the palace. You suck in deep breaths and try to hide your shaking hands. This place… it won’t get the better of you, if you can help it. But it’ll all depend on why you’re here, and furthermore - what they want.

As you approach the throne room, they stand back to let you in. When you hesitate, the leader shoves you through the open door, and it slams shut behind you with a sound that echoes throughout the room. You’re left in a large, empty place with two shadowy figures that become clearer as you step further in. You recognize only one of them.

The queen is entrancing in the flesh, all dark hair and flashing eyes. She says nothing, but her gaze analyzes you from her throne as the man - who, from the look of things, must be her court sorcerer - approaches you. A needle pricks your finger and leaves a dull throbbing in its place. 

Silence. A nod. 

“It’s true, then,” the queen says. Her voice is like wine, dark and smooth in your ears. “You’re a child of Calthir. Royal blood flows in your veins.”

You’re standing in front of her, squinting in the bright light. Her words seem a million words away. Some other dimension. Some other reality.

“I - I don’t…”

“You poor thing. You didn’t know?” she asks. “Well. Perhaps they were clever to keep it from you. Or perhaps not.” 

“It isn’t possible,” you blurt out. “What you’re saying. I can’t be… that.”

She raises a brow. “But you are.”

This time, your nails draw blood when they curve into your palms. Stinging pain floods your senses. “Then what do you want from me?” you ask, unable to mask the frustration brimming your words. “Calthir fell when I was a child. I don’t even remember it.”

“Where are your parents?” she asks.

You swallow hard. “Dead. Just after I was born.”

For a long moment, she stares down at you, her dark, intelligent eyes gleaming in the light. “Calthir has fallen, yes. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t alive.” Her words are measured, carefully chosen for the most impact. “Every day, more of my soldiers are lost to Calthirian dreamers. They want their kingdom back, their so-called rightful ruler placed on the throne. You. They’ve been searching for you. Do you understand?”

You do. “You’re going to kill me.”

She clicks her tongue. “And make the problem worse?” With a graceful movement, she gets to her feet, towering over you from her throne. “No. Their search is thorough, aided by magic. They’d discover your fate, sooner or later.” She pauses, lifting two fingers to her temples as if sensing an oncoming headache. “You’d become a martyr. Mass kindling for the zealots. I won’t have that.

“Then what?” you ask weakly. “Prison?”

She laughs hollowly. “And what good would that do?”

You can’t think of an answer.

“No,” she sighs. “Prison would be pointless. A waste. I still have use for you.”

Fear floods your gut, thick and dark. When you speak, your mouth feels like it’s full of sand. “Which is?”

She tilts her head. “I’m sure you’ll find it simple enough. You’re going to marry my son.”

In the gardens, the crickets are singing. It’s the first thing you notice when you come back to yourself, ears ringing. You’ve gone through that memory a hundred times, but it seems more real now, sharper, somehow. Your stomach churns with the urge to be sick, but the feeling fades quickly. 

It’s starting to settle in. That this is your life now. You’ll likely never see your home again. Your friends. All of your ambition, gone - thrown away for some petty diplomacy. You’re engaged to a man you’ve never met, and for the rest of your life, he’ll be tied to you.

More than anything else in this place, the prince doesn’t seem real. Even his name feels foreign in your thoughts, a muddy figure you can never put a face on. Strangely enough, the palace doesn’t have any portraits of him - which doesn’t put you any more at ease - and none of the servants will talk to you about him. You’ve been here over a week and still haven’t seen him, not even for a moment. Not even a glimpse.

Maybe you’ll never meet him. That’d be nice.

You doubt you’ll get so lucky.

The rest of the night passes by slowly, oozing along like syrup. You’re more than happy to sit in relative silence and enjoy the peace while it lasts. After all, this kind of freedom will be a rare thing, soon. Your eyes start to grow heavy, but you have no desire to head back inside. Not yet. 

When it’s long past midnight, the sound of a snapping branch behind you startles you to your feet. Your knife is gone, taken by the guards, but you reach for it all the same, cursing when you come up empty . But there’s nothing when you turn - nothing dangerous, at least. Just a squirrel, scurrying up a tree. 

Just as you’re about to return to your seat, a man comes stumbling out of the woods, scaring you half to death. He halts in his tracks as he sees you, eyes widening as he looks at you. He must not have expected anyone to be out this late at night, and you can’t blame him. It is absurdly late. And yet, here you are, and there’s nothing stopping you from taking in every inch of his clearly guilty appearance. 

The first thing you see, because it would be impossible to miss, is the blood. It’s all over him, splattered across his face and tattered clothes, staining his hands. His silky white hair curls around his pointed ears, dirtied with dirt and leaves. His dark eyes that you can’t quite make out the color of lock onto your every move.

He’s handsome. And, from the look of things, he’s probably going to kill you. 

You aren’t quite sure whether or not you want him to, considering everything. You wouldn’t have to go through with the sham of a marriage if you’re dead. Then again… are you really ready to let go?

For a moment, neither of you move. Your heart is thrumming under your ribs, and your feet are frozen where you stand. His fear turns into something else - puzzlement. His head tilts ever so slightly. Then, slowly, he takes a step back. You don’t move, because what could you do? Chase him? You’re not that much of a fool.

He chances another step away, and when you still don’t react, a third. And just like that, the man vanishes into the night, and you’re left alive and unscathed, staring out into the darkness of the woods he’d come from. 

You can’t help but feel a little disappointed he hadn’t killed you, or at least tried. It would have been exciting, at least.

After a few more minutes of nothing but silence, you turn on your heel and head back inside. The next time you see him is three weeks later, and until then, there’s not a moment he’s not in your thoughts.

As the days pass, you soon come to realize that the worst thing about this place is the boredom. It should be a thousand other things - the pinching clothes, the ache of your old life that never stops throbbing in your chest, the soon-to-be husband you haven’t even seen - but it isn’t. It’s the never-ending, constant boredom.

Gods, is it ever boring. You read every decent book in the library. You walk around the gardens at least five times a day, looking for something new. You linger around the courtyards, hoping for a bit of gossip. And every day, it’s all the same, and there’s nothing. And every day, you think of the strange man in the woods and wonder who or what he possibly could have killed. You’d checked the woods the next morning but came up completely empty.

As the wedding approaches, the air around the castle grows thick and tense. Arguments ring out from the halls about this or that - flowers, invitations, food. You’re shoved into at least twenty different potential outfits to see how they look, pinched and prodded. Servants scrub your skin raw despite your protests, even though it’s still a week away. 

The queen is almost as rare a sight as her son is, though you do catch her slipping through the main hall once. She hasn’t spoken to you since that first day. Perhaps isolation runs in the family.

Which is why it’s so surprising when, three nights before the wedding, you hear her voice coming from a passage down the hall. It’s late. You should be sleeping, but your thoughts have kept you awake, and you’re roaming the halls like an aimless ghost. Your feet stall when you hear the echoing of words - something shouted not far from you. 

From the sound of it, she’s in the east wing, an off-limit portion of the castle you’d been told was dangerous and in dire need of repair. You’d only listened at the time because no one else went in there, not even the servants. But now… 

You chance edging in a little closer, keeping your steps quiet and your body in shadow. When you manage to sneak a look, Queen Erelin is standing in the midst of floors so clean that they shine, shouting at one of the closed doors.

“Every time I do anything for you, you fight with me,” she snarls, pacing up and down the hall. “I am doing what is best for you! Making you better! Why can’t you understand that?”

When no answer comes, she stalls in front of the door, lets out a long, heavy sigh, then throws her hands into the air and mutters something final under her breath. She leaves without so much as a glance toward your hiding spot. Your breath comes out in a whoosh of relief, tension flooding out of your shoulders.

When the fear is finally gone, curiosity takes its place. The east wing is silent and open, practically begging you to take a look, and you’re not in a place to resist. When you move closer, you can see warm light flooding out from underneath a door - the one she’d been shouting at. It’s not difficult to guess who must be in there, considering the facts. Would he answer, if you knocked? Would he talk to you? 

A long moment passes in silence as flickers of movement spill their way under the door. Well, if you’re going to spend your life with him, you might as well find out what he’s like in advance. But just as you’re about to take a step forward, something stops you - a sensation you don’t recognize. The feeling trickles down your neck, plants itself deep into your chest as if it’d sunk straight through your skin - icy and dark and making you shudder as you wrap your arms around yourself for warmth.

After one final look toward the hall, you head to bed. The feeling fades. And, for the next few days, every time you look at the east wing, it’s shut tight.

Part of you is glad for it.

Despite your best efforts, the wedding rolls closer and closer, and as a horrible result, you get hardly any time to yourself. You’re escorted around, forced into fittings and rehearsals and who knows what else. The prince still never shows, but the queen is absolutely everywhere. She floats from room to room, dark circles under her eyes as she approves or denies things entry. She glances at you when she notices you, then shakes her head. 

“I’d be the happiest woman in the world if I never had to plan a wedding again,” she says. 

You resist the urge to point out that she was the one who’d wanted this.

On the day of, you’re ripped out of bed at a miserable hour, scrubbed clean, slathered in creams and fragrances, forced into yet another torturous outfit, and shoved out into the halls. People filter around you, carrying flowers and pastries and various trinkets. You stand there feeling like you can’t breathe until an arm loops around yours and starts pulling you through the crowd.

“Come,” the queen says. You don’t argue with her. She’s looking much better than before, well-rested and her cheeks rosy, porcelain skin glowing in the light. Her dress, light-blue, weightlessly flutters around her. “Given these last few weeks,” she starts, her eyes fixed in front of her. “Well. You must be curious about your husband-to-be.”

You are curious, yes. But you keep your lips shut tight. 

She shoots you a piercing look. “I expect you to be polite,” she says. “He is your prince, after all. And one day, your king.”

Only then do you realize she’s leading you straight into the east wing - but not to the door she’d shouted at before. Further down the hall, into a giant room filled with books and servants and a tailor, fussing over some clothes. A man stands in the corner, and when he turns to look at you, you stop dead in your tracks.

It’s him. The one you’d seen that night, covered in blood. His eyes widen when he sees you, and all you can do is stare at him like a fool. You don't know how you hadn’t put that together - the mysterious prince, never showing his face, and the stranger in the woods, covered in blood. But then…

The way you’d seen him then is the complete opposite of everything he is now. The opposite of everything in this place, every spotless, perfect little thing that makes you feel so wrong being here. He’d been dirty, clothes simple and torn, hair mussed and covered in leaves. Here, he’s clean, dressed in extravagant clothes, so pristine and put together that not an inch of him looks out of place. 

Of course you hadn’t considered it. Just like you, he hadn’t seemed like he belonged here. But you were wrong. He fits in the same as everyone else. 

His eyes, as it turns out, are a dark, gleaming red.

“Astarion,” the queen says, letting go of your arm and stepping away. “I trust you remember your manners?”

His gaze doesn’t leave your face, even for a moment. “But of course,” he says, his tone sultry and smooth. He steps closer, taking your hand in his, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he presses a kiss to the skin. Your stomach flutters at the action even though you should know better. 

His touch is ice-cold. 

In his eyes, you see exactly what you are: a threat. Maybe he’ll kill you after all. Then again - he can’t. They need you alive. That’s why they’re doing all of this in the first place. 

“Prince Astarion,” you greet. That touch has put some danger into you, a spark that won’t settle in your veins. You can’t help yourself, can’t hold your tongue. “It’s nice to see you again,” you find yourself saying. “I hope you’ve recovered from the incident in the gardens?”

For the barest moment, his eyes narrow. But just as quickly as his distaste is there, it’s gone, tucked under a pasted-on smile. “Why yes, I have,” he says, tilting his head. “Healthy and clean as ever.” He takes another step toward you, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he leans in close, so near that you can feel his breath on your cheek. 

“Not another word,” he murmurs, his voice dark and low. He smells clean and herbal - you catch notes of bergamot and rosemary, enticing and dizzying. A light hint of something else: wine, perhaps. He’s stepped away before you can fully place it.

“I didn’t realize you’d met,” the queen says, her eyes flickering between you and Astarion. 

“It was rather brief,” he answers. 

She looks like she’s about to ask something else, but a loud crash from the main hall distracts her. “Shit,” she curses, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’d better go see what that was.” Then she turns her gaze to you, nodding for you to join her. “Come along, now. It’ll be starting soon.”

You look back at Astarion. “Well, then. Goodbye, Your Majesty,” you tell him. “I suppose I’ll see you soon.”

The corner of his mouth flicks into a smile. “That you will,” he replies.

Everything else turns into a blur. 

You’re rushed from place to place, forced to recite the stupid vows over and over again until they’re convinced you’ve got them down, preened over and prodded until you’re raw. Your feet start to ache along with your head, and all you can think about is wanting to be home and… well, as much as you hate to admit it, you think about Astarion. He might as well be a plague for how much he’s infected your thoughts. 

You think of him, covered in blood, then spotlessly clean. You think of his voice, low in your ear, and his touch, and the smell of him that still lingers somewhere on your skin. Had he planned this, somehow? A ruse to get into your head? No. You’re being ridiculous. He hadn’t known you were the one who’d seen him - of course he hadn’t planned it.

If only it had been anyone else.

“Quick!” someone says. “It’s starting!”

Your heart drops straight down to your stomach as the drone of an organ hits the air. Nearby hands scrabble around for various items, clawing like animals. A stranger grabs your arm and drags you around like a doll, throwing instructions at you.

And just like that, you find yourself in front of the prince again. 

This time, instead of a dozen people or so, there are hundreds of people in the room. You needn’t have worried about being here with him. Nothing has ever felt less intimate. 

Your vows are rehearsed and devoid of any emotion, even though you really are trying. His are more convincing, perhaps, but they’re coached all the same. Still, when he takes your hand and slides on the ring, your stomach flutters. You slide his ring on with shaking fingers and just like that - you’re married.

“You may kiss,” the priest says, and your soul instantly exits your body. Gods, this can’t be real. None of this. 

But it is. Astarion leans in, his hand settling on your cheek, and kisses you. 

It’s clearly meant to be a quick, chaste kiss, but his lips are soft, and he smells so very nice, and the chill of his touch on your cheek is both soothing and strangely intoxicating. It’s as instinctive as breathing when the kiss deepens, when you find your fingers fisted into his shirt and his hand curls a little tighter around your jaw.

That is to say, the kiss is neither quick nor chaste, and when you pull away, there’s no small amount of cheering from the crowd. You want to melt into the floor.

When you finally muster up the ability to look at him again, Astarion tilts his head and raises his brows - a question you don’t at all want to decipher. You simply shake your head in response.

He loops his arm through yours, takes you down into the crowds, and escorts you through the room, effortlessly witty, devilishly charming. You don’t know how he does it. When people start talking to you, you can hardly get the words out of your mouth. You’re still half in shock, and Astarion’s presence isn’t helping.

The smell of him you couldn’t place earlier reveals itself to be brandy. 

How incredibly pretentious.

After what seems like hours of forced conversation, Astarion leads you over to the tables of food and drink, placing a glass of wine in your hand that you gratefully start to gulp down.

He sips at his wine, pasting on a smile when people wave at him, then turns his gaze to you. “You know, darling,” he murmurs, quirking a brow, “it wouldn’t hurt to make an effort.”

You grip your wine tighter, shooting him a scowl. “I am making an effort,” you hiss. 

He gives you another one of his false smiles. “As passionate as that kiss was, I’m afraid that doesn’t count.”

Shutting your eyes, you take in a deep breath. “That’s not what I meant. Not all of us are good at this like you are. Talking to people.”

“Well, my sweet,” he replies tightly, and for the first time, you can hear frustration lining his words. “I appreciate the compliment, but we still need to convince everyone here that we are madly in love. And that takes more than a kiss.” He takes the glass from your hands - much to your dismay - and places it on a servant’s tray, interlocking his arm with yours again. “So try a bit harder, won’t you?”

Gods, you can’t stand him.

When you go back to speaking, you try your best to be charismatic - but only because you can feel Erelin’s eyes on you, and you don’t dare upset her. Not that your best efforts make you succeed, unfortunately. Astarion has to swoop in several times to save you from the awkward turn of things.

When you finally get another moment to breathe, he guides you to a silent corner, puts an arm around you, and leans in close. “For the love of the gods,” he says. “You’re driving us both into the dirt with your horrid conversational skills.” He inhales deeply and sighs, collecting himself for a moment. “How about this - I will take on the heavier conversations, and you can just… pay compliments.”

“Pay compliments?” you ask incredulously, taking care not to be too loud. “How in the hells am I supposed to do that? I don’t know any of these people!”

“Oh, it’s easy,” he says, waving his free hand dismissively. “Tell the women you like the dress they’re wearing, or their necklace, or… I don’t know - their perfume. They’ll go on about it for ages, and you won’t have to do anything but smile and nod.”

This sounds much too easy to be true. “You’re sure that it’ll work?” 

“Trust me,” he replies. “The more we keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, the better off we’ll be.”

Anger flares in your chest at his words, red-hot. “Quite the charmer, aren’t you?” you ask.

“That I am,” he says, pulling you closer. “I’m so glad you noticed.”

Anywhere else, you’d have elbowed him in the stomach. Hard. Unfortunately, you’re in front of hundreds of people, and it would lead to a large number of very awkward conversations. So, instead, you paste on a smile and think of home.

You aren’t in a palace. You’re in your tavern, talking to customers. This is easy, and you definitely don’t hate it. At all. 

When the next couple approaches you, Astarion takes the lead, and you smile wordlessly and nod. When a null in the conversation arrives, you tell the woman you like her dress. Which, luckily, you do. It’s masterfully made, gold embroidery along a shimmering turquoise fabric.

Her face lights up. “Isn’t it just gorgeous?” she asks. “I searched for days when I heard about the wedding. Only the best for me, I always say. Anyway, there was this girl who ran a shop I went to - Martha, her name was - and she told me she had just the thing. And I tried it on, and it was perfect, only, well… it didn’t quite fit. But I knew I’d never want anything else now that I’d seen it, and I thought to myself, oh gods, I can’t turn up like this to the wedding! So I told my mum about it, and she said, ‘Don’t you worry! I’ll take care of it!’ And then, when I went to get it, clumsy me, I spilled half a glass of wine on it! I was just thinking it was lost forever when my neighbor came, and…”

And… what her neighbor did, you’ll never know. It’s completely lost to you, because when you look over to Astarion, he looks ridiculously smug. You can practically hear his voice in your head, saying ‘I told you so.’ You resist the urge to elbow him once again and turn your attention back to the girl, who is just now finishing her story.

“...and then, we arrived here, and saw you! And the wedding! My gods, what a sight. You two really do suit each other, you know. But Thom and I really should be going. There’s a lot of people for you to meet, and we wouldn’t want to keep you from tonight, if you know what I mean.”

She winks at you, and your cheeks go as hot as Avernus. 

“Well,” Astarion says quickly, “thank you both for coming!”

“Oh, of course,” she replies. “Enjoy yourselves, you two!” She gives a sly grin and then she’s off, leaving you feeling like you’re about to shatter into a million pieces.

Tonight. How could you forget?

It isn’t that you hadn’t thought about the fact that sex would be expected of you - it’s just that… well, it’d seemed so far away before. Back when you’d been thinking about it, you hadn’t known who it would be with, and it had all seemed like it was going to be a dream. Something that would never actually happen.

But here you are. 

You can’t say Astarion isn’t handsome, because he very much is. You can’t say you aren’t terribly attracted to him, because, infuriatingly, you are - no matter how much you hate the fact. But whether or not you’re comfortable with him touching you that way is a completely different matter, and, honestly? You have absolutely no clue how you’re going to tell him that you’ve never been with anyone. Or how he’ll handle it. 

Gods help you.

“You see?” Astarion tells you, slowly walking you over to the next group. “I told you it would work. Just keep that up, and all of this will soon be over.”

And over it soon is, much quicker than you’d like. You’d stay out chatting all night if you could avoid what comes next, but there aren’t many others to greet, and eventually there’s no one left to talk to. There’s hardly any food remaining either, which makes you want to cry. You’re starving. Your feet hurt. You want to crawl into bed and sleep for an eternity. 

Astarion, as if he can read your mind, finally leads you out of the room and heads straight to the kitchens, releasing your arm when you arrive. “Here we are,” he says. “We wouldn’t want you going to bed hungry, now would we?”

You try not to think about the implications of that statement as you eat. You try not to think about the way he leans against the wall next to you, seemingly not interested in the food. In fact, you try not to think about anything at all. 

It doesn’t work.

The food is a welcome distraction, at least. That’s one good thing about this place. The gardens are nice, the beds are soft, and the food is delicious. You never have to go to sleep without eating, which is a new feeling. You just wish it didn’t all come with a cost.

When you’re finished up, Astarion raises a brow at you and straightens up. “Well,” he says, “we’d better go find my mother.”

Erelin looks exhausted after the celebrations. She doesn’t bother with any formalities, just nods for you to follow. 

“I’ll show you to your new room,” she sighs. “Don’t forget - tomorrow, the two of you are off for the honeymoon. I’m trusting you both to keep up appearances, yes?” She gives you a pointed look. 

“Right,” you reply.

She sighs again. “This way.”

She leads you back into the east wing, this time to a large room around the corner - one you haven’t seen before. It’s gigantic. You’d thought your bed was huge when you arrived, but this? It practically takes up half the room. Bookshelves line the walls, the windows glisten in the moonlight, and there’s a large vanity in the corner, presumably for you. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Erelin says, leaning against the doorway. “Just remember: you’ve done a great service for this kingdom.”

The door closes, and for the first time today, you and Astarion are completely alone. There are no servants, no guards posted along the walls, no crowds of adoring citizens. Just you, and him. And you have no idea what comes next.

In truth, all you want to do is to jump into the huge, fluffy-looking bed and sleep. But, of course, it isn’t that simple. For one, your clothes are intricately laced. There’s a privacy curtain in the corner, but you can’t remove the lacing by yourself. Then there’s the matter of what’s expected of you. What you’re dreading. And that’ll have to come before sleep, too.

Astarion isn’t exactly paying attention to you, though. He’s mulling around the room, examining the books, looking over the vanity. You’re relieved, but you know it won’t last. And, honestly? If it comes down to it, you’d rather just get it over with.

“Would you mind giving me a hand with this?” you ask.

He finally looks at you, gaze focusing on the lacing you’re helplessly trying to undo. “I thought you’d never ask,” he says. 

By the hells, he’s irritating. Still, he comes over to help you without complaint, deftly pulling apart the lacing until the ribbons finally come free. You’re expecting him to go further - to start undressing you, or touching you, or… anything, but he just steps away. 

“There you are,” he says.

Your throat goes thick. “I… Thank you,” you say softly.

He hums in response. “I’d make for a poor husband if I didn’t help undress you, wouldn’t I?”

The word husband sends electricity through your veins. He really is your husband, isn’t he? It feels incredibly strange. 

When you turn to scowl at him, Astarion is already gone, returned to his place by the books. You suck in a deep breath to compose yourself, then grab the change of clothes they’ve left for you and slip into it, folding up your old outfit as neatly as you can. 

As soon as you take a seat on the bed, your heart starts beating thickly against your ribs. It’s an unsteady pattern, the thump of it. It gets faster when Astarion moves, then goes quiet when he simply grabs his sleep clothes and changes behind the curtain. It drums hard and rough when he emerges, but settles down when he crosses over to his side of the bed and blows out the candle.

The room goes pitch dark.

“You’d better get your rest while you can,” he tells you. “I’m sure they’ll wake us at a horrendous hour tomorrow.”

You stay motionless in the dark for a moment or two before what he’s saying hits you. As if his words have broken a dam inside you, all the tension floods out of your body. You climb into the sheets, weightless in sheer relief, and find the bed incredibly soft. You can hear him tucking himself into the space near you, shifting around to get comfortable, and it’s strangely intimate. Still, with the size of the bed, there’s not much danger of accidentally kicking him in the night.

The room is peaceful and the crickets chirp outside, and it doesn’t take long before your eyelids are closing and the pull of sleep comes. Just as you’re drifting off, you realize one thing: 

You’d forgotten to ask him about the blood.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Totally not projecting my own present emotional instability here but

Oh look hurt/comfort

Shiny 🤩

Probably going to be doing one for each Shanks, Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk, and apparently Buggy too who seems to have become a mainstay now.

I'm having trouble continuing my current WIPs, usually if I can crank out a oneshot or two I can focus and get back to it.

Sanji first.

And aaawwaaaaay we go~

Late Night Chats

Trigger Warnings: death of loved one

SFW and cloyingly fluffy

Hurt/comfort with

OPLA!Sanji X Reader

♫♬ Six Days In June - The Fratellis ♫♬

And if I could paint you a picture now it would be nothing less than tragic

I would trade a lifetime for a moment now of magic

Sanji knew full well he was a hopeless romantic. He had always known it. While his desire to work in the kitchens at Baratie had always been the greatest source of bitterness between him and Zeff, the second greatest probably stemmed from the older chef berating him for flirting with customers, no matter how respectful he was about it. He really couldn't help it—women were the gods' greatest gift to creation, and they deserved to be treated as such.

The hiring of a new garde manger had been another source of hostility, however briefly; Zeff had said he would consider Sanji for the position, and then tore it right out from under him, like always. He even had the nerve to roll his eyes and say, "You'll get over it." The rest of the staff stayed out of it, and kept a fair distance during prep hours that day, as it wasn't uncommon for such a row between the head chef and Sanji to devolve into physical violence.

But when the kitchen doors came open and you entered at a minute past eight that morning, he had frozen—and rather unbecomingly so, with his mouth hanging open, holding a sauté pan in the air, primed and ready to sling it right at Zeff's head.

He barely registered Zeff's snort of laughter at his reaction, or the gruff old chef's taunting apology for "the idiot waiter's behavior." Sanji's heart had simply ceased when your eyes met his, however briefly, as you glanced between him and Zeff in clear alarm at the scene you had just walked in on.

For once, Zeff was right—Sanji was already over it.

You had your work cut out for you, starting your two week stage that particular day—there was a party of more than twenty world government snobs expected at one that afternoon, which meant cold apps and hors d'oeuvres needed to be in no short supply. Sanji kept his eye on you throughout the entire shift, any time he was in the kitchen. Your station was right next to the break table in the corner, and oh, he could have watched you work all day, your graceful and precise movements as you piped filling into two trays full of deviled eggs, the deft motion of your wrist in cutting the chives to perfectly even half-inch lengths, carefully adding a few to each with your tweezers, ever so delicately topping each egg with a few salmon roe and a turn of your pepper mill.

Sanji stamped out his cigarette in the ashtray, and crossed the short distance to your station before you could call order up to retrieve the trays.

"Absolutely stunning," he commented with a small sigh.

You met his eyes briefly as you set to cleaning your station and checking your next order. "Just following the recipe."

"Well...." he chuckled lightly, leaning across the counter. "I wasn't only referring to the food, chef."

Your eyes locked with his a moment longer, before you rolled them and went back to work—but there was the slightest hint of a blush on your cheeks as he lifted the second tray, a hint of a smile curving your soft lips, and Sanji didn't fail to miss it.

Your stage was two weeks, before you would either be hired in fully or told to take a walk, but you melded so seamlessly with the rest of the staff that Sanji had no doubt you were on track to becoming a permanent fixture at Baratie—and god, he hoped he was right.

He was genuinely drawn to you—not only your talent in the busy kitchen, your ability to keep a level head and your spirits high under the high stress of the lunch and dinner rushes, but everything. The subtle and teasing way you returned his flirting. The late nights cooking with you, experimenting with new recipes after shift, or just chatting by the bar while you shared a drink and a smoke or two. Well before a week was out, he wanted to just grab you by the waist and kiss you like his life depended on it.

But he was nothing if not a gentleman, and for all the time he had been blessed to spend with you, there was still something distant about you. You skirted around any personal topics—your family, friends, your home before you came to Baratie, all of it was a mystery. Sanji didn't push it. He did prod at it occasionally out of sheer curiosity, how you had come to be so accomplished a chef at only a year younger than him, but he didn't push. He couldn't stomach the thought of pushing you away if he tried too hard to get you to open up.

Your eighth day at Baratie, just after the end of dinner rush, Sanji watched Chef Zeff hand you an envelope as you stood over the dish pit, your chef coat slung over your shoulder. He spoke to you quietly as you opened it and scanned over the letter inside. Something shifted in your eyes for a moment, so quickly that it was difficult to tell what it was.

Then you stuck the letter in your apron pocket and shook your head. Your mouth formed the words, "It's fine," as you went right back to scrubbing a plate.

Zeff gave you a nod, a light pat on the shoulder and a sigh as he passed.

And it was all Sanji could think about for the next hour as he squared away the dining area. He did so quickly, perhaps a bit less thoroughly than he should have, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that flicker in your eyes, a flicker of something. Whatever news had come to you in that envelope had been nothing good.

You were the last person left in the sprawling kitchen by the time Sanji returned, still making your way slowly through the stacks of dishes, a task that was normally split between a few of the kitchen and dining staff.

Yet you were still there, clearly taking your time, meticulously cleaning each dish that passed through your hands. Drying each one thoroughly before placing them lightly in their designated areas, your breathing slow and controlled, your eyes focused and yet somehow miles away at the same time.

Sanji plucked the ash tray from the break table and crossed the kitchen, lighting up a smoke and grabbing a dish towel before he reached you. You proved just how thoroughly you had spaced out when he set the ashtray down—you let out a small cry of alarm and dropped the plate you were holding.

Sanji managed to stoop down and catch it just before it could hit the floor and shatter. Your eyes locked with his for a moment, and there was that flicker again—pain, sadness, so much that it made his chest ache. Then, in the blink of an eye, you were back to washing dishes.

"Don't sneak up on me," you chided, elbowing him playfully as he leaned back against the counter, drying the plate. "You know how Zeff gets about anyone breaking dishes."

"That's entirely unfair, I wasn't even sneaking." He knew he had to be careful—had to play it safe, act like everything was normal. He couldn't outright ask you what was wrong without you either changing the subject or outright storming off. "Now, had I been sneaking..."

Ge set the plate down, and you were already rolling your eyes as he circled behind you, resting a hand lightly at your waist.

"I'd have come up behind you...maybe...put an arm around you..."

Your lips pursed, clearly fighting to keep a straight face as his hand slipped from your waist, across your stomach, his arm curled around you to pull you gently back against his chest. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, tilting his head to lean in close over your shoulder.

"Said something like, 'How about we leave these dishes for someone else and go have a drink or two, beautiful?'"

You tilted your head to meet his eyes, shaking your head a little. "I'm sure you would have," you said, giggling a little as you patted him on the cheek. Your lips lingered barely an inch from his, and for a few impossibly long seconds Sanji briefly forgot why he had approached you in the first place.

Then you reached over your shoulder and held a bowl out to him.

"Sooner we get done, sooner we can go have a couple," you said, smiling sweetly.

"Oh, fine," he sighed, taking the bowl. "But I'm going to sulk about it the whole time."

You giggled a little more when he pressed a brief kiss to your cheek, shoving at him lightly. "I wouldn't expect anything less," you laughed as he resumed leaning back against the counter beside you.

He kept his eyes on you, wondering if you thought you were hiding it well. You were far too quiet, too tense as the laughter faded from your breath and you went back to work. Your shoulders were squared, your chest rising and falling under your apron in slow, even, carefully controlled breaths, your eyes growing distant again.

Distant, sad, almost hopeless, on the verge of breaking and desperately trying to hide it.

And Sanji couldn't stand another second of it.

He plung the towel over his shoulder and placed a hand lightly on your shoulder—and before he could do more than open his mouth, you spoke up, your voice low and quiet.

"I'm...going to have to leave for a few days."

"What?" His eyes widened, his cigarette falling from the corner of his mouth in alarm. He quickly stooped down to pick it back up. "Wh—why?" he blurted out.

You swallowed, keeping your eyes on the plate in your hands, not washing it anymore but just staring at it.

"I...I have to handle funeral and burial arrangements for my father." Your voice was still quiet, still so carefully controlled, and his heart sunk right into the pit of his stomach at the slight tremor in your hands. "He...didn't have any other family so I have to...I have to go home for a few days."

That was it. The letter Zeff had handed you. Your mouth forming the words "I'm fine," when he no doubt offered to let you take the rest of the evening off. Over an hour you had stood there washing dishes, alone with nothing but your own thoughts for company, one little push from falling apart.

Sanji took one last puff from his cigarette before putting it out, before gingerly pulling the plate from your hands and setting it aside, before taking a step closer and pulling you just as gingerly into his arms. He felt as well as heard your breath hitch and stutter the slightest bit.

"I'm...so sorry, sweetheart," he said quietly, lowering his forehead over the crown of your hair, cradling your head at his shoulder. You still kept your breathing mostly level, but kept your head down, your hands shaking the slightest bit as they gripped lightly at the front of his shirt. "Was...he ill?"

You nodded shortly. "Dementia." Swallowed. "Early onset. Started around five years ago. I...we had a restaurant in Loguetown. Just a little bistro. Things...got bad a couple years ago. I couldn't keep up running a business and take care of him. He'd go down into the restaurant and try to cook, end up cutting himself or starting a fire. I had to close it and find something else. He...told me a while back that the head chef at Baratie was an old friend, so I..." Your voice cracked a little as you went on. "I had to leave him with a live-in nurse. When I left h—he didn't—he was so far gone he didn't even know who I—"

He pulled his arm a bit tighter around your waist as your sentence cut off in a small sob, his fingers curling in your hair near the nape of your neck. You had been dealing with all of this, alone, this entire week—for five years prior to that, trying to run an entire restaurant on your own and juggle it with taking care of your only family.

He was speechless—couldn't do anything for some time except lean back against the counter and hold you against him, stroke your hair and press a kiss to the top of your head while you clung to him and cried quietly.

He gladly would have held you all night, if that was what you needed—but you drew away after a few minutes, rubbing your palm into your eyes and turning to sit on the floor against the counter, glaring up at the ceiling.

"I never even really got to say bye," you said, giving a small scoff as you ran a hand back through your hair, your head falling back against the counter. Sanji took a seat beside you, and you exhaled a slow, shaking sigh as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "Not in any way he'd know. He just looked right at me and asked who I was."

"I'm sure he knows now. And that he'd be proud." You leaned your temple into his shoulder, swallowing, your eyes drifting shut. It didn't matter if you believed it right now—he still wanted to make sure you heard it. "You're...kind, beautiful, talented. To be honest, I could hardly take my eyes off you your first day."

"I know." You laughed quietly at that, your voice still choked from your tears. "You weren't exactly discreet about it."

"Never said I was trying to be."

You glanced up at him at that, and nudged your elbow lightly at his ribs...but you smiled as you shook your head, and that was all that mattered to him. Making you smile, genuinely smile, not just putting it on to mask the pain.

You rolled your eyes a little and closed them again. "I planned on making a point of not getting close to anyone here." You sighed slowly. "You made that impossible, of course."

"You're welcome."

"Would you stop?" you said, both of you laughing a little. A little more of your tension seemed to slip away as he pulled you closer. You shifted so your knees were bent to the side, resting over his leg, your temple at his shoulder. "I wasn't sure if I'd stay here after...." You bit your lip. "If I'd go back home and try to re-open the restaurant. But..." You shook your head. "I like it here. It's like having a family. I never really had that since it was just me and my dad." You drew in a deep breath. "I...still have to go back for a few days and handle his arrangements, but...I want to stay here. There's really nothing for me there now, anyway."

There it was. Without saying it outright...you were staying because of him. Sanji could have floated right off in that moment on a cloud of pure elation. There was nothing official between the two of you yet, but he had grown quickly to adore you. To savor every moment of time you gave him, every second of your flirtatious banter and your late night talks after the kitchen closed, and that only increased with everything he learned about you. Even if you had decided to leave, he couldn't say for sure that he wouldn't have just followed you right out the door like a lost puppy.

Even a few days was too long.

He laid his forehead over the crown of your hair, pressing a brief, chaste kiss to your temple.

"Let me come with you." He heard your breath catch in surprise, felt you freeze as he shook his head. "This isn't something you should have to do alone."

You were quiet, still as stone for several long seconds. He didn't regret the offer, wouldn't ever regret it. The worst you could do was say no, leave for a few days and come back.

You drew in a slow, deep breath after a moment.

"Are you sure Zeff would let you?" you said quietly.

Sanji laughed a little. "He's a cranky old bastard but he isn't heartless," he said, his thumb brushing against the nape of your neck in slow, small circles. "He'll probably tell me not to let the door hit me in the ass on the way out and leave it at that."

Your little giggle made his heart soar.

"You...really don't have to," you said softly, but you couldn't hide the hope in your voice. And that alone was enough to make him sigh softly, hearing hope after seeing the lost, hopeless look in your eyes as you stood over the dish pit minutes earlier.

"I want to," he said gently. "Besides...." He dug into his pocket, pulling out his cigarettes, and held the pack out. "Why in hell..." You took one when he offered it, and he tapped one out as well before tossing the pack up onto the counter behind both of you. "...would I want to stay here waiting tables and arguing with our most esteemed chef..." He leaned in close enough to light both his and your smoke together, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke away out the corner of his mouth, "when I could be spending a few days doting on the single most beautiful woman in the world?"

You gave a small snort of laughter, shaking your head before meeting his eyes again. "You never switch off, do you?"

"Never," he affirmed, grinning.

Sanji leaned back into the counter, resting his arm across his knee, staring up toward the ceiling as a thought struck him—an idea, moreso, one that he couldn't resist acting on.

"What," he said slowly, glancing down at you as you pressed the cigarette to your lips, "would you say was your old man's best dish?"

"Risotto," you said instantly. You smiled a little, turning your head to blow a cloud of smoke away. "His mushroom risotto was our most popular item, he could have made it in his sleep. Shallots, chardonnay, portobello, white truffle, little pinch of nutmeg and thyme to bring out the earthiness, it was...."

"Perfect." He smiled when you glanced uo at him. "Let's make it."

"Wh—*now*?" Your brow furrowed as he shrugged a shoulder. "But—" You nodded back at the counter, up toward the sink behind you. "I have to—the dishes—"

"Will still be there in an hour," he finished for you, and you pursed your lips. "Come on..." he said, lowering his head to rest his forehead against yours, lowering his voice to a light, teasing tone. "Say yes."

"I..." You sighed after a moment, shaking your head. "You are impossible." He lifted his eyebrows, waiting, as you returned his smile. "Fine, yes."

"Perfect," he said once more. He plucked your cigarette from your hand and stood, dropping it as well as his own into the ash tray before offering you both of his hands. You took them and he pulled you to your feet, your fingers lacing together with his.

And, without any warning or hesitation, you pulled yourself up onto your tiptoes and pressed your lips lightly to his.

And, oh, he could have melted into a puddle right there in front of the sink.

Your lips were even softer than they looked, and Sanji knew in an instant that he was going to be hopelessly addicted to them. A slow sigh left him as he tilted his head slightly, returning the slow, sweet kiss, his hands leaving yours to wrap lightly around your waist and draw you in a little closer, a little deeper. Yours came to rest just as lightly at his abdomen for a moment, before you looped your arms around his neck and sank right into him.

He was smiling when your lips parted, his forehead resting against yours as you bit your bottom lip. He curled an arm around your back and lifted his other hand, brushing your hair behind your ear as his eyes remained glued to yours.

"So..." He brushed his thumb across your cheek. "Would you call me an idiot if I said I think I'm falling for you?"

You chuckled softly. "Being that we barely met a week ago...yes." And you smiled, leaning in closer. "But I guess then I'd have to call myself an idiot, too."

And you pressed your lips to his again.

[deathbyathousandspiders]

omggggg can i request billingual reader and maybe peter finds it cute that when shes explaining stuff she has a thinking face of what to say next cos she wants to be sure of how to say it in english 🥹 or maybe hearing her speak in her mother tongue/native language does he find it cute or smn :(((((((

as a white english–speaking woman, i only feel comfortable writing for a bilingual reader with a language/culture that i’m relatively familiar with and could properly represent, which isn’t many :,)

so i will write an imagine for a bilingual reader with a language i’m going to school for: ✨sign language✨

i hope that’s okay :)

a/n — i am still a student and i’m constantly learning, so if there’s a detail or some information that i’m incorrect about, please tell me asap !!!

✨masterlist✨.

2.5k.

Sitting alone at cafes was a custom for you. People watching, spectating murmurs and laughter but never quite grasping it. You lacked the understanding of how the sound captured their conversing, but you weren’t missing anything. Your focus was mainly set on finishing your chemistry homework, anyways.

Midway through an equation, the light shifted over your table. You felt the dip in the booth on your left and looked up to see who sat beside you. Your eyes met the deepest brown pair you swore you’d ever seen. It was almost like the rest of the room lit up with color after you first caught a glimpse.

You certainly recognized the boy. He went to school with you, but you’d barely crossed paths other than having a class or two together. And from the way he glanced at your paperwork, you assumed that chemistry was on his schedule too.

His lips moved, and your eyes studied their shapes as best as they could. Perhaps he was nervous, or overly caffeinated, but the movement was too swift to distinguish.

Slowly, you shook your head at him, right index finger pointing to your ear. Apology and disappointment weighted your eyelids. You really did want to see what he wanted to ask you, but your expectation was for him to up and leave.

Instead, sudden understanding washed over him; a look of epiphany. Quickly after, patience overtook the presence beside you. You were shocked. He tried to slow his words of choice down, using his hands to illustrate but not really communicate. You could tell he was trying, so you didn’t want to make fun of his efforts. The smallest fit of laughter threatened to slip from your lips as you gestured at him to stop.

From the table, you grabbed your notebook and flipped to an empty page. Your pencil flew over the page to jot down a question:

‘Do you know any sign?’

You figured that was a start.

Watching the way he smiled, you nearly forgot to hand him your pencil to reply. Your eyes followed his hand as it met the parchment and scribbled so gently, it surprised you to see writing even stuck. He pushed it over to you. ‘Yes, I know one’

Your eyes met, and you studied him patiently. His right hand sat atop of his left elbow, holding a fist that excluded his pinky and index fingers; a rockstar skull. His left hand rested beneath his right elbow, opening and closing a fist with a flicking motion. It was a sign you knew all too well. ‘Bullshit,’ you watched him mouth.

The giggle bubbles through your throat with physical feeling, and your hands gently pressed his arms to make it stop. You shook your head, smiling as you corrected him.

Your dominant hand met your chin with an open hand, lightly touching the tips of your fingers to your face. As you moved your hand to the space in front of you, you closed your hand into a fist.

‘Bullshit,’ you mouthed back at him. The crinkle in the boy’s brow marked his confusion.

Pen met paper again as you wrote out the explanation. ‘Hearing people came up with a fake sign to act like they knew shit.’

He looked up at you with some disgust to his expression, and you simply shrugged at him.

Politely, he held his hand out for the pen, and you gave it to him with the trust that he’d return it soon after.

‘Then maybe you could teach me some instead?’

The grin on your lips was unbreakable, and only seemed to grow the more you kept up the conversation. You nodded your head, writing a simple ‘sure:)’ beside his note. You met his eyes again, pointing to your chest before swiftly fingerspelling your name. The boy marveled at your hand, equally lost and mesmerized.

His pointer finger rapidly twirled the air, circling near his face four or five times; you assumed that meant he wanted you to repeat yourself. So, you agreed.

Slowly, you held out each hand shape of your name a little longer, waiting til the twinkle in his eyes indicated that the letter was registering for him. It was fairly entertaining to watch.

He wrote it on the notebook once he got it just to clarify with you. ‘Y/N?’ He seemed nervous for your reply.

You signed yes, then gestured for him to do the same. You wanted to see what his name was.

Hesitantly, the boy tried his best, bouncing each hand shape to the letters of his name. It made you happy to see his attempt, and you were fond of his efforts.

Pulling the notebook closer, you jot down his name. ‘Peter?’

You’d never forget the way he smiled at you afterwards. ‘Yes:)’ He wrote back. ‘You want help with chemistry?’

And that’s how you met Peter Parker.

You were an unlikely duo at Midtown. It was nice to have somebody in the classroom to have secret conversations with, and to teach sign to. Peter picked most things up pretty quickly, especially because he had an excellent teacher. Plus, little did you know that he watched ASL courses off YouTube in his free time.

That is, his freetime when he wasn’t being Spider–Man.

He never told you that he was Spider–Man. In fact, you didn’t find out he was until a few months into your friendship. After months of study hours and movie nights, you watched Spider–Man signing to a Deaf kid on the news; the web–slinging superhero signed what like salad.

That was a classic Peter Parker mistake.

So, when were you planning to tell me you’re Spider–Man? You asked him, signing nonchalantly. You’d waited all week until you two were alone, studying like you normally did on the weekends. You sat back on his desk chair, raising a brow, calm and collected.

It took everything in him not to forget how to respond. Peter had been practicing sign, but he still wasn’t nearly as versed as you were. What? He started. Poor way to respond on his part. You pointed at his hands, trying to call him out.

That! You were so determined to catch him in his coverup, opening your laptop.

His hands flailed to try and capture your attention. However, your laser focus was something he couldn’t cut.

Having the clip ready, you played it, turning the screen towards him and showing him the fluke in his signs.

Peter facepalmed when he noticed, face red as a tomato but you couldn’t care less. You felt more than accomplished to have deciphered his secret. You owe me!

Signing, Peter got over himself a little, rolling his eyes playfully at you. Whatever, fine!

To help Peter practice his signing, you’d dismissed your in–class interpreters the second the bell rang and had Peter translate your questions to your teachers. Perhaps it was selfish to put him on the spot, but when you’d asked him about it later, he said he was more than happy to help you out.

He enjoyed learning sign, almost as much as he enjoyed his time with you. Peter had never met anyone as amazing as you; nobody that he’d met before watched the world with your eyes, or lit up a room so vibrantly. You always asked the right questions, saw straight through people’s bullshit, and put others’ needs far before your own. Don’t even get him started on the fact that you’d never even heard your own laugh before.

Peter couldn’t wrap his head around all the things he thought you were missing out on. That was how he saw it, at least, til you changed his mind. He was grateful to know how your fit of giggles sang to him, but there was more things to life than that. Sound was only one way to see the world; if you choose to act like it’s a principle more than a privilege, you’ll get nowhere. He knew he’d waste time dwelling on things you weren’t even sad over.

Instead, Peter would marvel at how fluently and beautifully you’d sign when you were passionate about something. The choreographed tangents that you’d go on absolutely mesmerized him, even though he could only pick up one or two things you were saying.

Your hands moved so fast, he second guessed whether you were actually communicating or just painting a masterpiece with the shapes of your hand.

That blissful, ecstatic look in your eyes told Peter everything he needed to know. He was the luckiest boy in the world to know you.

You were the most joyous person he knew.

That joy was a strength that you’d gained overtime, though.

Rushing down the school halls, you had memorized the rhythm underneath your feet as you pattered down the tile. You always pictured the sound like something fragile, or feathered, especially seeing as your shoes had rubber soles. Sometimes, when you walked slow enough, you could feel the rattling steps of other students around you.

Today, specifically, the rumbled pattern beneath you threw you off your rocker.

Especially as the charging steps behind you tread right in your direction.

A hefty pair of hands shoved your shoulder blades, pushing you toppling into the floor beneath you. The sound of chatter couldn’t be heard, but you certainly felt the energy in the hallway shift. Pressing off the floor with your hands, you noticed the eyes now mindful to your presence. You had an audience.

You flipped yourself around to look at the shadow towering over you. Some flimsy–looking, curly haired, short classmate of yours stood above you. His hands perched on his hips as he spewed words at you, mouth moving far too quickly to lip read. You stayed there, staring up at him with a glare, merely making out the words ‘stupid’ and ‘Parker’ from his muted speech.

You were used to bullies, but you couldn’t sit while this dickhead kept Peter Parker’s name disrespectfully in his mouth.

Just as you pressed up to rise to your feet, this bitchass shoved the toe of his shoe right in the center of your chest, pushing you back into the ground and leaving dirt all over your favorite top. You felt the gasp leave your throat, trying to fight against it.

That’s when Peter Parker swooped in and forced the boy away from you. Anger wasn’t an expression you’d seen on Peter’s face, and you couldn’t tell whether it was something to awe at or fear.

Their echoed shouts and feuds and insults bounced from the floor and into your fingertips. You could tell the words they exchanged were ugly, considering that the two were face to face and both had such crease to their eyebrows. Fists clenched, shoulders squared, you could tell they were about to brawl.

Peter threw the first punch, taking you by surprise but still sending a smile to your lips. The two boys had a displeasing fight to the eye, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to look away.

A girl to your left offered a hand to help you off the floor, to which you signed a quick thank you before both of you saw the boys getting caught by a set of teachers. All it took was a second before the two boys froze dead in their stances and peacefully walked with the teachers down the hall to the principal’s office.

In an instant, all eyes found their way to you and your dirt–stained top. Before you let them react to the heat growing on your cheeks, you rushed off, going to the one place you knew you wouldn’t be disturbed in.

Two and a half hours passed before Peter walked through the open door of his bedroom, a small smile on his lips as he greeted you. Are you okay? He signed quickly, soon shutting the door.

Are you okay? You signed right back, swift to press off your spot on his bed and walk over to him. Peter was the one with the blackened eye and busted lip. Clearly he should be the one to worry about. Your hands found his cheeks and gently cupped his face as you looked at his injuries. The sight broke your heart.

Although, you weren’t expecting to see his pale cheeks brighten with red in your grasp. You could feel the second when his breath stopped fanning your face, and that’s when you realized that his breath had been fanning your face; you were inches away from him. The atmosphere of the room changed.

‘What?’ You mouthed, brows creasing together with concern. You weren’t stupid, but you were definitely choosing to ignore the obvious. There was no way that Peter Parker was flustered by you, right? That was preposterous.

His eyes threatened a glance at your lips before you felt his fingers curl around your wrist. Peter moved your left hand to his chest, pressing against his heart. The skin beneath his shirt pulsed against you, and quickened by the second. Things felt very intimate, things felt very thick and hot and heavy. You didn’t notice it til right then that the room was getting hotter.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of his lips and you hadn’t noticed that you were staring at them. Peter’s face moved closer to your’s and that’s when you decided to be bold. You captured his lips with yours, kissing him tenderly, careful. The caress of his hands down your sides and grasp he held around your waist told you that you didn’t have to tread as cautiously.

Peter kissed you and every inch of you felt warm. You swore you’d lifted off the ground when his hands held your back, your hips, your waist. His lips against yours truly felt something like magic and you never wanted to leave this moment. A moment where his hair was silk between your fingers and his body became one with your’s.

Pulling back, Peter kept his arms around you, now taking the time and the close proximity to study you and your injuries; you learned to recognize the protective look in his eyes. His stare stopped and stuck itself to the dirt smudged between your breasts. He moved his right hand from your waist. Your shirt.. Peter couldn’t help but stare at the stain.

You couldn’t care less about it. What? You want it off? You joked, watching the immediate shift in his expression, and feeling the laughter he admitted through the tips of your fingers on his torso. Peter pulled you back into a kiss and you knew right then and there that things would be different.

Never in your life did you think you’d get so lucky as to meet Peter Parker, but now that you had him, you knew you’d never let him go.

[xpao-bearx]

"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 1 HERE

Read Part 3 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

NOTES: Y'ALL the way my jaw literally DROPPED when not even H A L F a minute after I posted the first part, you guys were already exploding my notifs which I wasn't expecting AT ALL I swear Oscar Isaac's really got us sluts in a chokehold O_o

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUU!!! 😭❤️❤️❤️ This is truly wonderful and encourages me a lot, especially since this is my first ever Moon Knight fic AND the first time a story of mine blew up this much! This is also great cuz I've been terribly sick, but of course ✨️priorities✨️ I gotta shower our Moon Boys with some much deserved lovin' and it's just so fucking nice to see that it's paying off! \(^o^)/ I was so happy and inspired that I couldn't resist and just HAD to write this second part ASAP!

Dissociative identity disorder is also briefly mentioned here and if I made any mistakes, then I apologize and please kindly correct me. And I feel like the ending may be a bit rushed, but it's the best my tiny brain could think of!

I'll shut up now and I'm very proud and excited to present... PART 2!!! 🥳 And if you'd like to be tagged for any of the next parts, feel free to tell me!

Also Marc does something very asshole-y here oop

TAGS: @autismsupermusicalassassin @ungracefularchimedes @pimosworld @ababynova @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @anapnovo-blog @am-3-thyst @harrys-tittie @zukoisbabee @wiltedwonderland

Part 2: You made me feel I've nothing to hide

After work, instead of heading home, you rushed straight to the nearest boutique to buy yourself a new dress for tomorrow night. The butterflies in your stomach were doing somersaults and you felt as if you could spontaneously burst into song like in those cheesy musicals your former college roommate was so obsessed with.

You knew the employees were all looking at you oddly as you constantly giggled to yourself like some lovesick schoolgirl while you perused through endless racks of the latest fashion. Of course you knew you were acting ridiculous--crazy--but wasn't that what attraction or, dare you say, love did to you?

Besides, you wanted tomorrow to go perfectly. In your eyes, Steven Grant was already perfect--perfectly imperfect or imperfectly perfect, you didn't know or care which was which. You just knew that you liked him. A lot.

And it relieved and pleased you to the moon and back that he actually felt the same! So, who cares what anyone else thought?

You just hoped that after tomorrow, Steven would like you enough to go on another date. And another. Then another...

Maybe you were looking--wishing--too far into the future, but you swore you could almost hear wedding bells chiming in the distance.

God, is this what happens after being a total virgin for twenty-something years? There was absolutely nothing wrong with being a virgin, but your insecurity bugged you. What if you weren't at all what Steven expected?

But another part of you, a positive ray of sunshine, clobbered all your doubts. For once, you were going to be brave! You were going to take a leap of faith! You were going to control your life!

Because, in the end...it was worth it. Steven was worth it. Sure, you've experienced various crushes throughout your life, but not like this. Not with Steven. This felt more...serious. Adult.

It felt as if right from the get-go crossing fates with "Steven with a V", your life was about to change--for the better.

Of course you were afraid, and yet you've also never been more sure of something in your entire existence. You've been waiting this long and you're glad you did, and now you were ready to jump head first (and head over heels) into whatever adventure was in store for you--with Steven.

You then squealed excitedly when you spotted the perfect dress, ignoring the judgmental stares other customers shot you as you hurriedly grabbed it like a child in a toy store.

Yes, tomorrow was going to be a dream come true.

♡•••🌙•••♡

You arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes early. It was totally embarrassing how eager you were, but you couldn't help yourself. Though at least with how early you were, you snagged a good table overlooking the restaurant's beautiful back garden strung with fairy lights and you can have some time to calm down before Steven came.

And you looked stunning. Your hair tumbled down in elegant waves, light makeup adoring your face and donning the contact lenses you rarely used. And the dress you bought fit like a glove; it was the shortest dress you now owned, stopping around your thighs. It was baby blue and had an off-the-shoulder style with some frills, and it hugged your figure just right.

You felt very self-conscious. You've always fancied clothes like this, but never actually had the guts to wear them--until now. Did it really suit you? But you couldn't deny that you were happy and, truly, isn't that all that mattered?

"Shall I get you started, ma'am?" A waitress snapped you back to reality and you shook your head.

"Not yet, thank you. I'm still waiting for my...date." The word made you blush furiously, as if sharing a dirty little secret.

The waitress smiled and nodded, leaving you by yourself once more as you sighed wistfully.

You took out your phone from your purse, checking the time. 6:45 p.m. Alright, not too long now. And you double checked that the address you texted Steven was correct, which it is.

You settled back in your chair, peering over the garden and giggling softly.

"I'm right here for you, Steven."

♡•••🌙•••♡

"It's about time, innit?" Steven murmured, glancing over anxiously at his wristwatch for the umpteenth time. It was already eight p.m., a whole hour past your meeting time (not to mention he arrived embarrassingly early). And he was just informed by one of the servers that the restaurant was closing in thirty minutes, to which a pitiful look was also casted to him.

"It's not 'about time', Steven. It's late." Marc gruffly pointed out, Steven seeing Marc's reflection glaring back at him from the shiny silver flower vase set in the middle of the table. "Face it: she's NOT coming."

"Don't you dare say that." Steven's voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a certain edge to it that one would normally not hear from the soft man. "Y/N would never do that. Not her. She's just running late, I'm sure. Traffic and all."

"Oh, please, we both know that even the traffic here doesn't take this long." Marc scoffed. "Stop kidding yourself, Steven. She's. NOT. Coming."

Steven frowned, and with a shaky hand he pulled out his phone. He should've called you since way earlier. It was the logical thing to do, after all. But he was...scared. Scared that, maybe, a terrifying maybe, Marc was right.

He found your number and called you, pressing his phone to his ear as it began to ring. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until you finally picked up, voice groggy.

"Hello..?"

"Y/N..." Steven heaved a relieved exhale. "Hey, uh, I'm at the restaurant. Guess you got stuck in traffic?" He chuckled halfheartedly.

A long, dreadful pause. And then:

"Fucking EXCUSE me?"

Steven's eyes widened, having never heard you swear before. He was just about to ask what was wrong when you continued without skipping a beat.

"Are you playing with me, Steven? Is this what it is?!" You definitely sounded angry, but he didn't miss the faint sniffles coming from you. Shit, were you crying? What the hell was happening?

"How can you be such a...such a DICK?!" You shouted, causing him to jerk his phone a few inches away from his ear. "I fucking waited for you like a total idiot until closing time, you prick! You never showed and you never answered my calls! What the fuck can you POSSIBLY gain from toying with me, huh?!"

"W-Wait, I don't understand!" Steven was nearly hyperventilating, all the colour draining from his face and his mind running a mile a minute. "I-I'm here! Right now! D-Didn't we agree? Friday night, seven p.m.?"

You were dead silent. Steven was going to check if the call was still connected when you beat him to it.

"Steven... It's Sunday."

Steven froze. Then his eyes landed on Marc's reflection, refusing to meet his gaze and it clicked.

"Y/N." Steven said slowly, steadily, despite feeling like crying himself. His eyes were still on Marc, cold and pissed. "Please. I promise I have an explanation. I just... God, can we meet? Y/N, please, I'll come to you."

"No need." Tears threatened to spill from Steven's despondent eyes at your flat response, before you suddenly added: "I'll come to you. You said you were at the restaurant, right? Stay there."

You ended the call, and Steven flared at Marc--no longer caring if other people perceived him as a lunatic fighting with himself.

"Why the fuck would you do that, Marc?"

"Steven..." Marc struggled to find the right words, and the asshole actually had the audacity to look ashamed. "Listen, she's nothing but a distraction--"

"You always think you know better, yeah?" Steven laughed humourlessly. "A distraction? YOU stop kidding yourself, Marc. This is not just your life, but mine. And it's about fucking time you stop being such a selfish bastard!"

"Um, sir?" Steven winced, greeted by a baffled waiter. "We'll be closing soon, so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave if you're not ordering anything."

Humiliated and repeatedly babbling apologies, Steven abruptly sprang out of his chair and dashed outside. He sighed deeply and collapsed listlessly on the ground, finally allowing the tears to fall.

He vaguely heard footsteps approaching until he saw a pair of worn bunny slippers in front of him. His eyes heavily dragged upwards, finding you staring back at him with an unreadable expression and breaths coming out in ragged pants.

"Y/N!" Steven jumped up, surprised you actually came despite the way he--the way Marc--treated you. Your bloodshot eyes and the dried tears on your cheeks only made him feel even shittier, much more fucked up than any beating he suffers on a mission.

Because at least with those, he can be confident that he and the boys would win no matter the challenge. But with you?

He had everything to lose.

Your hair was a total mess; glasses slightly crooked and you were in your pyjamas, a matching set of a purple tank top and shorts with stars and moons. The only thing you had covering you was a purple silk robe, drawing it closer to your chilly body as your eyes narrowed at Steven.

You should be mad at him, and you were. Still, despite everything, you hopped on to the first bus you saw and scrambled the rest of the way here as fast as you could.

But now that you were here...what in Khonshu's name were you going to do? You could scream at him with all the pain you haven't had the pleasure to release like you did on the phone, but you'd just be wasting your breath. Then again, he wasn't lying. He really is here. And it confused you more than anything.

And seeing him like this, looking so...sad. Well, it made you sad. Him miserably clenching onto a heart shaped chocolate box, fat globs of tears cascading down his cheeks as he gawked at you with his pretty doe brown eyes.

You raised your hand, and Steven shut his eyes as he braced himself for the slap he very much deserved--only to be met with your soft palm, wiping away his tears tenderly.

"Explain to me, Steven."

♡•••🌙•••♡

The travel to Steven's apartment was spent in deafening silence, but it brought upon a strange sort of comfort. Unconsciously, you hugged Steven's black jacket that he had offered you earlier even closer to your much smaller frame. It soothed your nerves, being completely enveloped in his smell; fresh soap with a hint of musky cologne.

Once you reached his unit, you couldn't help but smile. It was just so...Steven. It was a bit messy, but a good kind of messy. You didn't really know how to describe it, but it warmed your heart especially when you saw a giant fish tank with only one goldfish.

"Cuppa tea?" Steven asked to which you shook your head, facing him fully.

"No. I'm a 'get over it' kinda girl so whatever your explanation is, I'd rather we just nip it in the bud." You huffed before you halted, biting your lip. "Oh, uh, sorry... Of course, if you wanna have tea, you can. It's your home, after all."

Steven laughed, his first real laugh that entire day. "Are you always this nice to blokes you should be mad at?"

"Only if they are really into Egyptology and have beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous curls." You rolled your eyes though you couldn't suppress your grin before you cleared your throat, getting a hold of your stupid giddy self. "Now, explain."

Steven's demeanour instantly shifted, serious now and quite uneasy. But he nodded and gestured towards the couch. You walked over and plopped down, Steven sitting next to you and keeping a respectful couple inches between the two of you.

He looked down at the ground, carefully considering his words before meeting your gaze solemnly. "Have you ever heard of dissociative identity disorder?" You nodded, previously learning about it in Psychology class and researching about it due to personal interest. "That's...what I have. I'm an alter within a system, and there are two others--Marc Spector and Jake Lockley."

"Am I correct to assume that when you asked me out...it wasn't actually you?"

Steven blinked, rather startled that you were taking this so well. "Yes. Jake was the one who asked you out."

"Was he also the one who didn't show up for the date?"

"No, that would be Marc." He grumbled. "And listen, I'm truly sorry about him. He's a right twit. It may not have been me who didn't show up, but that absolutely doesn't excuse the hurt it caused you. I am so, so sorry, Y/N."

Your brows furrowed, mulling over this new revelation. But...you believed him, especially when it explained all those times you secretly caught Steven muttering incoherently to himself or staring at his reflection and quietly reacting to something. You were curious about more, of course, but Steven didn't have any reason to lie about such a serious matter. And if he was lying, there were plenty of other things he could say. But the way he acted, and just the look in his eyes--he knew the risks of opening up to you, but he did it anyway.

You clasped his hands in yours, sighing. "I know I look calm right now, but trust me, I'm freaking the fuck out." You chuckled, and Steven felt safe enough to join you. "But... I trust you, Steven. And I believe you. Tell me one thing, though. Are you...into me? Like, at all?"

"Of course I am!" He replied in a flash, making you both pause before erupting into easy laughter. "Why would you even have to ask that, love?"

"It's just... Well, if Jake was the one who asked me out, it made me wonder if you really did like me." You mumbled, looking away.

Steven gently grasped your chin, tipping your face back towards him. "I've liked you since the day we met, Y/N. In your pink skirt and the cute little pigtails you had." He smiled, eyes so amorous and gleaming with sincerity. "Truth is, I've wanted to ask you out since forever. I'm just not as...forward as Jake is."

"And that's fine. But hey, we gotta thank him 'cause Lord knows I'd just spiral into a panic attack if I ever made the first move." You chuckled. But it gradually died down as Steven continued to stare at you, and you never thought you would ever have someone look at you the way Steven did; as if you were precious treasure hidden within a sacred tomb.

Slowly, ever so slowly, your body started moving of its own accord. You were leaning closer, closer, closer--a mere breath away from his lips before he piped up.

"I'm also Khonshu's Avatar!"

"Say what?"

"Um, well, you see--" He stammered, mentally slapping himself.

'Don't say anything, Steven.' Marc warned, and it took all of Marc's willpower not to seize control and actually slap Steven.

But it was too late now. Steven already said too much, but he wanted to be honest with you. Utterly so. And since you wanted to nip this in the bud, now was the best time more than anything.

"Erm... You've seen the news, yeah?" He didn't grant you the chance to respond as he rambled. "Masked vigilantes... Moon Knight and Mr. Knight? They're actually...Marc and I."

"Steven, this is--"

"I'll show you, Y/N. I'll summon the suit."

"Summon the soup? What is happening--"

Steven stood up, and a split second later there was a whirl of white. And sure enough, there was none other than one half of the mysterious heroes you've been seeing a lot on the news recently; his glowing white eyes locked with yours, crisp ivory suit and batons clutched tightly in his hands.

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in--"

"Handsome..." You blurted out before you can restrain yourself.

"Huh?" Steven blushed underneath the mask, and you were the same as your cheeks tinted crimson. Then you rose from the couch, closing the gap between you two and removing his mask.

His curls stuck every which way and his eyes were as wide as the full moon, making you giggle. "You're so handsome, Steven. And yeah, this is a fucking lot to take in. To be honest, a part of me is still wondering if this is all just a dream." You reached up, caressing the side of his face sweetly and smiling. "But...thank you. Thank you for being honest with me."

His batons dropped to the floor, trembling hands hesitantly settling on your hips. You noticed his Adam's apple bob as he looked down at you, tears once again glistening in his eyes. Happiness, relief, adoration--how can so many exhilarating emotions crash over him all at once?

"Can I be more honest?" He whispered, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed deeply into your eyes. "I...want you to stay with me."

Your cheeks hurt from how impossibly wide your smile has stretched, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling his nose with yours.

"I'm staying whether you like it or not, Steven with a V."

[mangoshorthand]

I just saw your little post, I'm sorry I didn't clarify. Yes, I am a cis woman and I have more of a swimmer's body (I've been a swimmer for years so it's partially natural and partially conditioned) with wider hips and broad shoulders (typical swimmer long legs too). I hope this helps and sorry for such an inconvenience 😅

- birthday anon 🎂🎉

Original request, (paraphrased):

It's my birthday today and I was wondering if I could get a happy birthday from Five. I guess my prompt would be that throughout my life a lot of people forget my birthday (even my family) and often don't show up so if Five just remembered and decided to be soft and sensual and caring, that would make me the happiest person ever.

No problem Birthday Anon. Sorry this took a couple of days. Happy belated birthday! Also I made you a barista sooo...enjoy that I guess.

The Birthday Girl | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 2.8k words, Rated E

Being born at the start of the year was always a harsh reminder of the fact that you weren’t the main character of all existence, something which it took most people much longer to realize. It was worse when you were a kid, with Christmas and birthday presents amalgamated into one by relatives already stressed out from gift-buying, but it still kind of stung now. Yeah, people had lives and it was a tricky time of year, but you surely didn’t need to be the main character of all existence to have people simply show up for your birthday. 

It was a nice place, you thought, glumly as you popped the olive from your martini into your mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. Not too crowded, the music loud enough to dance to without prohibiting conversation. The drinks were cheap and good quality. It would have been the perfect place for a birthday get together. 

You sighed and rested your elbows on the bar. You should have got the picture by now. You were a full grown adult, you knew how it went, and yet you still foolishly invited all your friends and even some family out. 

You’d never imagined that all of them would come, but you thought that at least a few would turn up. Over the past week, as you’d expected, they’d nearly all messaged their excuses and apologies and dropped out. For some, it was too close to going back to work after their christmas break, some were still away, while others were still recovering from New Year and unable to face the idea of partying again so soon.

You didn’t really blame those guys, (at least they had the decency to inform you that they weren’t coming), but you couldn’t help feeling angry at the no-shows who hadn’t even bothered to inform you, leading to you sitting alone in this bar, all dressed up for nothing.

“Hey.”

You turned your head, surprised to hear any voice addressing you. 

“Five,” you said, smiling nervously in greeting.

This was not what you’d planned. He was your favorite customer, yes, he said you made the best coffee in the city, but could you call him your friend? Did two years of late-night coffee twice a week count as a friendship?

He usually came in on one of your late shifts, looking immaculately dressed but gray with exhaustion. At first, he hadn’t talked, just drinking his coffee in silence and leaving with a murmur of thanks and a generous tip, but over time he’d been more receptive to your gentle offers of conversation, and gradually he’d shown up primarily to talk, sitting at the counter as you worked, sipping endless cups of coffee and keeping you company. 

What he hadn’t told you himself, you’d put together from snippets of conversation. You knew about the Umbrella Academy and the apocalypse, but it didn’t really factor into your picture of him. To you, he was just Five: the amusing mix of pessimism, wit, and an old man’s nostalgia for times past incongruous with the body in its twenties.  

Over the time you’d known him, he’d grown into your life easily. He had you looking forward to your late shifts and spending the time between them making mental notes of things to tell him next time you saw him. Your conversations with him were easy and intimate (you’d told him a few things you wouldn’t tell your diary on your deathbed), but the relationship was still this weird, context-bound thing. He was the customer, you were the server.  

He’d surprised you into inviting him to this little get-together a couple of days before new year. It was your first late shift after Christmas, and when he’d arrived and taken up his usual perch at the counter, one of his first remarks was:

“It’s your birthday coming up in a day or two, right?”

“Uh,” you faltered, “Um - yeah.”

He looked at you doubtfully. 

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“No, it is. I’m just surprised, is all. People always forget.”

Five shrugged.

“You told me last year. You swapped shifts to go out for dinner.”

��And you remembered that?”

“Yeah.”

It touched you, the way he spoke so casually, as if he couldn’t possibly do anything but remember this about you. So you invited him to come tonight, hoping he’d say yes but not read too much into it. For months, maybe longer, you’d been wondering, and his attitude then was the thing that pushed you to find out once and for all.

You had to know for sure whether this was something: whether you and he would be the same in a different environment, or whether this thing would just crumble to nothing outside of the diner’s soft-lighting. It would be a good test, you thought, and having other people there would act as a buffer in case of any awkwardness. 

In this, you had been thwarted, because now he stood beside you, looking more smart-casual than you’d ever seen him, frowning in a gray blazer over a dark tee.

“Well…happy birthday,” he said, dumping a giftbag on the bar with a clunk that signaled a bottle inside, “it’s rum. You said you liked mojitos.”

“Thanks,” you said, nodding, as he sat on the barstool beside you. 

He took a quick glance around, intelligent green eyes taking stock of the bar. 

“Is it just us?” he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow in a way that made you chuckle.

“Yup,” you smiled, ruefully, “most people canceled, but there were three who just haven’t remembered to show up. I told them to meet me an hour ago, but no word.”

He frowned again, so you offered a little explanation:

“People forget when your birthday’s just after the holidays.” and then, with a smile at him, added, “Except you, of course.”

“Hm,” he said, with an air of contemplation, perhaps reflecting on why you’d told him to meet you later than everyone else. Seeming to dismiss it, however, he turned back to you:

“So you’re stuck with me?”

You looked back over at him, and a smirk developed on his face, one corner of his mouth turning up to complement his cocked eyebrow. 

And in that moment, you made a decision, one that was two years in the making. Why play these games? Why experiment with him? Worst case scenario, he finds another diner. 

“It’s stupid to be here with only two of us. Do you want to come back to mine? Maybe we crack open that rum and help me drown my birthday sorrows? I only live on the next street.”

***

The rum was never opened, because on the street outside your apartment, he stopped you with a hand on your arm.

He’d been silent ever since he agreed to come with you, and when you turned to face him outside your door, he fixed you with such a serious look that you took in a shallow breath.

“Sorry if I make this awkward, but I gotta know. Is this just a drink?”

You looked back at him, studying the earnest slope of his brow and his tense mouth; how the two freckles on his cheek disappeared into a small cleft in his cheek. It was a face that surrendered smiles reluctantly, but you could nearly always tease several out before the end of any shift. 

You shook your head wordlessly.

His adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His eyes, so often scowling, scathing or sardonic, fixed you now with a look of pure, open adoration. His thick lashes did nothing to shade you from the intensity of that look, from the opalescent green of his pupils that pulled at you with such fascination. 

When he spoke, his voice was very low.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to keep your eyes on his face, choosing to study the neckline of his tee, beneath which a hint of sturdy collarbone was visible.

He reached out and gently ghosted his fingers down your cheek. 

“How could anyone forget your birthday?” he murmured. 

Then, he leaned forward and kissed you.

The chill January breeze momentarily played about your neck. A shiver ran through you, but not from cold: from his gentle lips against yours; from the feel of his soft hair between your fingers; from his body close to yours. 

Sweet, chaste and cherishing, it might have seemed platonic, that kiss, but for the way his tongue slipped briefly into the fray, though pulling back quickly: showing you that he had more should you wish to take it.

And you did. You wanted it to the point that you chased his lips when he tried to pull away. He smiled at this and let you catch him, letting your lips part his and your tongue enter his mouth. 

Finally, he succeeded in breaking the embrace, though leaving his hands softly on your hips.

“Take me upstairs?” he asked, huskily.

***

His mouth beside your ear, he held you on his lap like a beautiful fragile thing. He ran his fingers reverently up and down your thighs, like a servant privileged to touch precious silverware with kid gloves. 

He kissed you again, soft and syrupy, as if he was eating fruit perfectly sweetened on the vine, trailing his lips down your shoulder, humming with satisfaction.

 “God,” he whispered, “I could kiss you all day.”

The tender hunger in his tone sent a tingle straight to your core. 

It was a shame to have your back to him. When he’d thrown off his shirt as if it was nothing, your eyes drank him in: the softly defined muscles that were outlined by his movements and the trail of sparse, dark hair disappearing below his waistband. All this time, under those sharply cut suits, there was this.

But you couldn’t focus on the regret too much, not with his strong forearms wrapped around your naked body, his smell of antiperspirant and aftershave, and not with the heat of his hard arousal against your ass and lower back. 

His fingers clearly stated their intent against your inner thigh, pausing an inch away from where you needed him most. 

“May I?” he asked, breath tickling your ear. 

You could hear a little hint of mischief in his voice; the ironic move of his eyebrows.

“Yes please,” you breathed.

“Anything for the birthday girl,” he whispered, nuzzling briefly at your neck.

And he stroked your outer lips with gentle fingers, his index trailing back up your slit, the tip skimming slickness that had already gathered there.

He made an appreciative sound at his discovery, and you moaned at the throb of pleasure from just this teasing movement, bucking against him and momentarily pressing his cock against you more firmly.

“You’re so pretty,” he rasped into your ear, fingers parting your outer lips to reach your excited nub and stroking it in smooth, luxuriant circles, “look at you. So perfect.”

You whimpered and tossed your head helplessly against his shoulder. Heat was already building in your sex, your toes curling against your sheets. The foundations for your orgasm were laid from his very first touch of your aching pussy, your body crying out for him from the moment he kissed you. Now, you were helpless to his fingers: as confident and efficient in rubbing your needy clit as in all his other movements. 

“You deserve to be treated special.” he whispered, “This good?”

“Five.” 

“Yes?”

“Five.”

You could hardly say more, brain scrambling like beaten eggs until no vocabulary remained but the name of the man whose fingers were making come slowly drool down your thighs.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered, tenderly.

You shook your head fiercely. 

“Fi-ive!” you whined again, becoming completely inarticulate now as his ankles hooked around yours, holding your legs open gently. He could sense you beginning to ride your edge, could surely sense the heat burning and coiling and tightening in your stomach until - 

You cried out when you came, feeling more come gush from you, soaking his fingers and your thighs alike. He spoke softly to you as the waves of pleasure broke on you one by one, each bringing a fierce buck of your hips backwards against his hard, hot cock, sandwiched between you.

“That’s it.” he encouraged, “There you go. Feel good, sweetie?” 

You could do nothing but whimper and let yourself be carried by the rapture, surges exploding down each limb again and again.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

Your orgasm subsided, leaving you panting against him. 

Through your recovery, he whispered more tender affirmations and praise into your ear, kissing and nosing at the side of your neck as he tried to distract himself from the tingles going up and down his length and the precome still leaking from his tip as your movements against him teased his excited cock. 

After you’d caught your breath, you became aware of the needy way he was kissing you; of the barely-there grinding of his pelvis; of his dick rubbing against you.

“Can I -?” came the desperate, half-articulated whisper.

“Yes please,” you replied.

He laid you down as if you were fragile, like an injured dove held in cupped hands. His gentle movements offered a stark contrast to the state of his gorgeous, curved cock. The tip was an angry pink, his balls high and tight with arousal. Intrigued, you began to caress that heated, swollen part of him. He hissed as you weighed and massaged his balls in one hand, the other closing around his shaft, already slick with precome.

“Don’t judge my stamina based on this, okay?” he said, voice cracking as his neck arched along with your strokes, “How about you stop that and we can try for quality over quantity?” 

It was spoken with self-consciousness that seemed unnecessary to you, given that he’d just rubbed your clit to a thigh-trembling orgasm quicker and more effectively than anyone you’d ever been with. You let his cock go and kissed him on the mouth as he lowered himself towards you. 

When he entered you, his mouth was still on yours, and you felt his sigh or relief against your lips. 

He filled you perfectly, your plush walls immediately gripping him, surrendering him reluctantly as he withdrew. You could see the tight pinch between his eyebrows. His eyes were already screwed shut. 

“Oh.”

The whisper was small and strung out, and you kissed his cheek and lips to encourage him as he let out a few, trembling breaths. 

“That feel good?”

“Yeah,” you gasped, “it feels good, Five. 

His strokes were slow, but skillful, his hips rutting with gentle fluidity. 

“I want to make you feel good,” he whispered, stroking your cheek, “I want to show you how special you are.”

From the movement of his body alone, you would have imagined him in complete control, not even close to his edge, but his increasingly fevered whispers and messy kisses to your lips and neck told a different story.

“Your pussy is so good. It’s so fucking wet.”

You kissed him back, nodding and moaning in affirmative as that perfect curve rubbed you just right inside, the low tempo building an ache as sweet and gentle as his thrusts. You gasped, pulsing around him, and his hips stuttered for the first time.

“F-fuck.” he breathed, “So hot. So perfect.”

He tensed.

“I’m close.”

You smiled against his ear. You were on birth control and you knew enough about Five to know that he didn’t raw-dog every barista who made him a good cup of coffee. It wasn’t logical or sensible but it was the only thing that seemed right after two years of illogical, foolish denial. 

“Come inside me.”

“You sure?”

You barely had time to confirm it to him before he let out an inarticulate cry. His dick pumped hard inside you, coating your walls with his load with his head buried in your neck, still keeping you gasping throughout with controlled, gentle, sensuous pumps of his pelvis.  

***

“You want coffee?”

You lay, bare-breasted on his chest as Five combed his fingers through your hair, feeling warm, content, and glowing from his tenderness. 

“Let me get it for a change.” he said.

“Wow, it really is my birthday,” you teased. 

You heard a short exhale of laughter as he extracted himself gently from the bedsheets. 

“Sure is.”

And, with as little care for his nakedness as if this was his own apartment, he headed across the bedroom, turning back at the door with a wry smile.

“And it’s not over yet.”

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969

Oneshot Masterlist >> HERE

NOTE: I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See oneshot masterlist for request status and more.

[ourserendipity]

Shadows beneath dazzling lights

(Aventurine x Memokeeper! fem!reader)

Chatters of customers along with the clanging of champagne glasses were heard all around the casino as people wagered their bets on one another. It is suffice to say that Penacony truly is a place worth dreaming of: having to leisurely spend your time into the ravishing sights brought by the dreamscape, decorated by the illuminating towers of endless entertainment. And this night is no exception to the one and only Aventurine. He hums as he sips the glass full of tequila, relishing on the tingling pain as its aftertaste: maybe being a masochist was his thing after all, he thought. As far as he knows, nothing has yet to steal his full attention amongst the crowd of people all lathered in jewelries of gold and such, the feeling of familiarity and oddity clinging onto his back reminding him of so. Just then, as he takes a last sip on the glass, he felt a stray glance being shot to his position. 'And who might this be?' he thought to himself. Feeling enthralled by the idea of being sought by someone, it sent shivers down his spine as he eagerly gets up from the luxurious couch, ready to strike up a conversation and to hopefully make a deal with a new client friend.

You spun out your fingers at the empty glass, glancing on the blonde's position only to see him gone yet again. Seems like fate had played its tricks on you again, though not in the way you expected. Just when you were about to stand up, you were greeted by a familiar voice sitting right beside you. "Fancy seeing you here, miss memokeeper," Shit, you've been caught. " Silent as ever, huh? You sure do have ways to avoid such conflicts. Not that I would dare stir one in front of many right now," He smirks as he stares at the empty glass in your table.

"Two glasses of Cosmopolitan, please."

"Comin' right up sir!"

You stare at him in disbelief, gosh was he so sly for that one. Coughing, you briefly excuse yourself as you quickly motioned to the bartender. "No thanks, I'll have a French 75 instead"

"Ooh, quite the sharp one miss, I see. How about an icebreaker for that one? Pretty sure you don't want to embarrass this youn-"

"I said what I said," you spat out, glaring at the now smug Aventurine. He shrugs it off, silently telling the bartender to do his thing.

"Simply terrific of you. Why don't you wipe off that irk on your face and let's have a small talk, nothing fishy of course,"

"You can't even see my face, idiot."

"Ah, right. My apologies then, dear friend," he retorts, emphasizing the word 'friend'.

Silence. A long break of silence is heard between the two of you, both relishing in the awkward atmosphere lingering in the air. It may not seem like it, but you find yourself feeling a sense of peace while quietly observing the guy's figure. Sometimes, you do wonder what is up with him and his brain that piqued your interest. Was it the fact that he is a senior executive of the IPC? Maybe it was because he always seemed to win all of his games despite the odds? Or perhaps it was something about that sly and cunning facade of his? The mask he always wears in public, just like you do; in different ways that is. Whatever it is, you despise the fact that you somewhat feel pitiful around him, as if he was someone pretending who he was not meant to be, someone who is but a sheep in wolf's clothing always eager to engage in situations that would bring him thrill and adrenaline rushing through his veins. But sometimes, that pity of yours may just be in the right place at the right time.

"Excuse me ma'am and sir, I believe it's best that both of you leave this place. The bar is nearing its closing hours."

"You can leave the both of us if that's your concern. I'll rent this place for the night if that option's available"

"Sure thing sir! It's just that-"

"Dont worry, we'll make sure that we won't make any ruckus here," he chuckles, sliding some stack of freshly printed cash at the counter. Shocked by his sudden actions, the bartender takes the money and quickly leaves the place, flipping the open sign to close before fully leaving.

"You really had to do that, huh?" you sigh, shaking your head at what he did just now. Unbelievable, truly unbelievable how he could just waste his money just like that. "Why not? Thought that only two could play this kind of game?" he replies, a smirk forming on his lips.

"What kind of game you say?"

"It depends on you, miss memokeeper~"

"I'll pass."

"Aw shucks. And to think that you have something bothering you right now. Tell me, do childish games bore the likes of you? Shall I raise the stakes even higher?" he asks, ever so confident as usual.

"........."

"Ah there you are again, miss memokeeper. You're quite the kill-"

"No thanks. I'd rather have it done my way," you reply. Aventurine was so surprised to hear these words coming out of your mouth: it's usually the other way around, where he is the one always being cocky and bold. And just then as he was processing what had just happened...

"May I invite you for this... dance, Mr. Aventurine?" soft eyes meet his slightly shocked ones as you bow down, slowly placing his fingertips at the palm of your hands, leaving a soft and tender kiss on his gloved skin. There you are, standing in front of him, poised in all of your glory: body adorned with smooth silk cloth, decorated with luscious white pearls that resemble the many stars painted across the starry nights of the galaxy. Your head, crowned with an embroidered veil atop of your porcelain mask.

Oh Aeons, if he isn't already lucky enough this also happened, just when he needed something for a momentary break from his usual scheme. He ought to take this opportunity, for this is something only to be witnessed by one once in a blue moon. 'Thank Aeons I keep on winning my wagers' he muttered to himself, accepting your offer by returning the favor.

"My, my. I can't say that I would fully accept this bet of yours. But that wouldn't mean that I'd fully decline it either ~" he jokingly teases, all while standing up to meet you eye to eye.

"Either way, an offer is an offer. Regardless of its significance to you, just remember that I only take those that truly benefit me. One isn't willing to be on the losing end of every game, no?" he asks, his hands finding its way on your own.

"I'll consider that, mr. Aventurine," you hummed in response, eyes focused on his subtle movements. "However....." you look at his hands, then glance at yours.

"What is it miss memokeeper?"

"Isn't this position... a bit odd?" you question him, slightly disappointed and concerned at the same time. It seems that things are to turn awkward for the both of you yet again. He felt an awkward smile creep up to his smile upon realizing what he just did. He did not just.... Sighing, you gently let go of your hands around his to help him reposition his hands to the right place.

"This one... goes here. And the other goes... there. Perfect. Now it doesn't feel strange anymore," you replied, chuckling softly at his gesture. Repositioning both of your clasped hands on your side, you patiently wait for his response. Strangely enough, he only looked at you with a tender gaze, telling you that he is vulnerable comfortable enough to begin.

"What are you waiting for, miss memokeeper? The night is young and the game has just begun," Aventurine teases. It's not like he gets to see you like this everyday. Especially when you are always successful at avoiding his sights in broad daylight. Slowly but surely you sway your hips with him as you rock your entwined hands with him back and forth. The cold air breeze mixed with the intoxicating scent of his expensive perfume only made you feel more bolder as you tug his hands, telling him to follow your lead. It didn't help that the dim lights were making it hard for the both of you to see, but that didn't matter right now: what matters is the scene that is laid upon your very eyes, an alluring one. One that is worthy of keeping in the garden of recollection. Warm breaths fan over your neck as he brings his head down to you, putting your movement to a halt. It stayed like that for a while: Aventurine playing with the ends of your veil as he inhales your scent. Aeons was he truly dazed by your gracious beauty.

But somehow, just somehow, it would seem that empathy and pity would wash over the thrill of the moment as you unconsciously wander your hands along his back, making his body shriek a little. You let him do his own thing while you try to balance yourself, signaling to you that intoxication is starting to take its toll on your stature. It would look like that you were an emanator sent by an Aeon, and it quite is, giving how your glooming presence had taken him aback; you're going to be the death of him that's for sure.

"Tell me, does it feel suffocating?" you ask, hands lightly grazing all over his neck, looking at him with awe and concern.

"It's not like I have a say on that. I've been living on the edge long enough to blur the lines between breathing and suffocating." Aventurine replies, his breath hitching along his lines. It was obvious he was bottling up all this pent up emotions he could never truly express properly.

"....Is that so? Then.... Why don't you allow me?"

Amused by the sudden request, he chuckles at the idea. "Daring to try, I see. Remember, I don't play games with me on the losing end, friend."

"It is not a mere suggestion, Mr. IPC. It's an order," you retort monotonously, the tone of dominance lingering on your voice ever so slightly. It seems that you've got him trapped at his own game. Shrugging his shoulders, he willingly puts his hands up in the air, as if he's messing with you. "Alright alright, looks like you've caught me on that one. Do whatever you please, miss~" he responds with a sly smirk all over his face.

"............."

There is it again: the abhorrent silence quickly enveloping the dimly lit room. Only the thud of your footsteps were heard as you circle around his fragile figure, hands moving its way on his shoulder without breaking your eye contact with him. making it to his front, you slightly bow down, placing a kiss on his right hand you had just swiftly placed on the palm of your unoccupied hand. Standing up, you set yourselves in a sensual pace as you lead him to dance freely, still making sure that he was on the same tempo as you. Perfect, now's your chance to secretly pry unto his past in hopes of collecting new, unfound memories; all the while he was distracted by your moves.

Distraught by what's happening, Aventurine closes his eyes as you lead him senselessly. He expects you to use him in such ways one could not easily comprehend, but this is far better from what he had anticipated. Had he not let his guard down, this would have end up very differently. Still, he let it all happen at once, waiting for the right time to strike. And that's where it hit him: this was the perfect opportunity to flip you off your table to gain an upper hand. Just as you were about to spin, he swiftly cages you in his hands, giving him the time to clasp your hands with his while the other tightly grips onto your waist. Now it's his turn to dominate this friendly duel. It became harder for you to encapsulate his memories as he leads you in the heat of the battle: the pace turning faster and more intense. You try to break free from his grasp when you look at his eyes, gazing at you oh so tenderly. You can't help but look back at him with awe as your bodies twist and turn around each other.

"That's it, miss memokeeper. Look at me, look at me as if I were weak and pathetic. Gaze into my eyes and tell me what you see. Go ahead and strip me of everything I had, my past even, it's all yours; all yours" he whispers to you, as if he was begging.

Looking into his eyes dread of light, you tap onto the murky abyss that is his whole existence: the fall of his nation, his demise in the hands of the duke, all the constant suffering he had endured just to witness the sunset he had wished to see with his long lost sister. All of it, locked behind his eyes devoid of life. Somehow, it made you feel like you wanted, no, you needed to puke out. Such things should not be experienced by one, let alone at a young age. You feel the presence of IX gazing over you, having you on its chokehold, ready to end your existence simply by its sheer force of nothingness crushing over you; leaving you with no choice but to forcefully close your eyes in hopes of escaping death itself. You successfully escaped your fate of turning into nothing but dust. Doing so however, you also left the blonde man all alone in the dreamscape, isolated in his own world of thoughts processing what had just happened. He was all alone again, just like what he's used to.

It was truly strange how despite being in the path of preservation, the Aeon of nihility lurks over that man. Perhaps now is not the time to know the truth, but there is one thing you're very sure of: that there will be time where you'll meet him again. And whether it is in at the time of uncertainty or his demise even, you were certain that only fate itself would allow you to peek into his hollow eyes for one last time, hopefully keeping all what's left in him in his final moments.

(Totally not inspired by that acheswan animation from mihoyo themselves, no no 🫣🫣 Also aventurine's pov will be posted at some time ig)

[luci-is-a-bitch-x3x]

Obey Me! Diavolo & Barbatos with a Goth MC! : basically my thoughts on what their reactions would be, how they would handle having a goth partner, ext.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Welcome! to another part of this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Goth MC! who does the make up, the white foundation the "crazy" eyeliner, the black/grey or dark color eyeshadow and blush. Classic black or red lipstick with matching nail polish on the Mc's fingers. The saggy looking hair that matches the make up, oh so well. Goth MC! Who has the unkept look, but at second glance you can tell their well kept. At least to some extent. The Mc has raggy, ripped looking outfit but upon closer inspection its clear the outfit is perfectly kept up with. Goth MC! Who has an over extent looking outfit, looking like rags on rags, and the Mc has a dead looking apperance appearing to have risen from the grave. Almost the perfect example of a goth baddie. How will they react?

Diavolo

When Goth Mc crashlands in the Devildom, Diavolo is Fascinated! He may not understand why their dressed Goth but he still thinks Goth Mc looks adorable! Diavolo would ask all kinds of questions. "Why do you choose to dress like that? Is it a human custom? Goth?? Whats that? Tell me everything!!" This is all assuming he doesn't already know what goth is lol. Diavolo is just an excited puppy eager to learn anything about humans. So please entertain him with Goth culture or just tell him dark stories. Maybe even talk about music and how complicated that can be. He'll be amazed! "There's a whole sub-culture for Goth? Thats wonderful! You must tell me all about it!!" With those puppy dog eyes and that grin of his, Goth Mc would have no choice but to talk nonestop about goth things until Diavolo's curiousity subsides. If it ever does.

Diavolo can listen to Goth Mc for hours. Even when Mc leave Diavolo will be thinking about what Mc had been telling him. Instead of doing his paperwork he would daydream or think of more questions related to Goth culture just so he could ask Goth Mc. Barbs and Luci are banging their heads against the wall, so much unfinished paperwork. Poor bbys.

Dating Diavolo is super supportive. Diavolo loves Goth Mc's look! Humans somewhat looked down on the Goth apperance? Diavolo will make a Devildom where its the complete opposite! He wants Mc to be happy and safe in Devildom. I mean honestly, whos going to say anything to Goth Mc when the Demon Prince is standing next to them anyways? A psychopath? "No harm or hate shall come to you when hes besides you, Mc!" Diavolo will happily parade Goth Mc around formal events, arms linked proudly showing the Devildom that he's with them.

Speaking of formal events, Diavolo expects Goth Mc to dress gothic when attending an event. "You should feel comfortable being you, Mc. The Devildom is a Safespace for you." Or he'll make it one. Diavolo will gladly provide Mc with formal gothic attire if Mc doesn't have/can't afford any. He just wants to see his cute little human all dolled up! It fills Mc's gothic desires so win, win situation.

Diavolo is the Demon Prince so he is going to give Mc amazing gifts, and he'll do it all the time. No occasion needed! Diavolo may give Mc some extravagant goth item. Or maybe he'll bring Mc along to the grand opening of something spooky like. Diavolo doesn't care what it is if Goth Mc wants it he'll give it to them. As long as its reasonable. Diavolo may one day be becoming king, but Goth Mc is his ruler.

Barbatos

Barbatos can see the future so like he probably saw Goth Mc coming before they actually arrived in the Devildom. But even if he didnt,the most of a reaction Mc would see is an intrigued eyebrow raise. Barbatos is very good at keeping his composure. Nobody can know his thoughts or see how hes feeling hy his reaction.

I feel like Barbatos would enjoy the goth aesthetic. Similar to what i said with Satan's reaction, Barbs enjoys that the goth look appears to be an artistic outlit. Barbs also makes clothes so i feel like he would appreciate the Goth attire in general. Taking inspiration from it at some points.

Dating with Barbatos is pleasant. Barbs isn't always free. Hes a busy man babysitting taking care of the Demon Prince. However Barbs always makes it up to Mc. It can be small acts or even small presents just subtle ways of trying to apologize for not always being free. Barbs knows Goth Mc's favorite everything, as a butler its his job to be observant and know everything about those he looks after. So Goth Mc can expect their favorites with him.

Barbs will gladly sit and have tea with Goth MC as they teach him of Goth culture or talk about something dark. Mc's telling him about this gruesome horror movie they watched recently? He's nodding along and sipping his tea with a fond smile. He'll occasionally ask a question or add something into the conversation. "The suspense is killing me, do tell me what happens next my dear." Said straight faced, but he really is intrested!

Barbs doesnt find Goth Mc's appearance or interests offputting. Everyones fond of their own things, and he finds Mc to be very unique. Barbs is a high respected demon with a lot of power. I doubt anyone would say anything bad to Mc with him around, but if they did he would handle it very professionally. He would give them a snarky passive aggressive remark. He cant do anything crazy without "shaming" Lord Diavolo so he just handles it calmly and professionally. The poor sap that said whatever to Mc was never seen again tho. Mystery what happened lol.

Barbatos defiently gives Goth MC amazing gifts. He has connections everywhere, if he sees something goth or something that makes him think of Mc, he'll get it for them. Mc will also recieve outfits he made for them, obviously it matches their goth aesthetic. Barbs maybe a busy man but he's always thinking of Mc. He gives them gifts all the time, small or large with no reason other than- "I saw it and I immediately thought of you, my dear. I may not be allowed to be with you always, but you're forever on my mind." Barbs is unbashful and will gladly spoil Goth Mc, with compliments or presents and any other ways he can. He just wants his little human to understand he cares.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! Next up will be: Solomon, Simeon, & Luke(platonic) Stay tuned! Stay safe! & EAT YOU'RE VEGGIES! ‹𝟹

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

[arrowhawkart]

Alright what's up everyone! If you do not follow my personal blog fair warning: I have become very suddenly obsessed with Dragon Age and have been playing thru the games for the first time ever- so expect the next chunk of art from me to be very Dragon Age-centric

So Anyways here's Cedric Hawke, the fun little guy I made for my DA2 playthrough and became incredibly attached to much faster than I expected.

More incoherent rambles and thoughts on my Hawke under the cut- it's very stream of consciousness under there and also very very long you've been warned

[ID in Alt Text]

Just like.... wow.... okay so I've now played through Inquisition and finished Trespasser and I've gotta say DA2 really took the cake for me, like by far my favorite of the 3. (Like please don't get me wrong it absolutely had it's issues I'm not saying it was a perfect game or that all the writing choices were amazing) But I just really enjoyed the smaller more personal scale of the conflicts in DA2, I liked that Hawke was even more Just Some Guy, and like yeah the Warden and the Inquisitor aren't like special chosen ones or anything, but they are both tasked with these gigantic world-saving country-spanning quests, and Hawke? Hawke is just a guy trying to do right by his family. Like he doesn't have any world saving mission. He is just trying to Get By and that really made this game hit home more for me than the other two.

I said I was gonna ramble about my Hawke and I just ended up rambling about DA2 itself... whoops. ANYWAYS- Cedric- My Boy Cedric- I recognize that a purple mage Hawke is the most common route people go and I am by no means unique or original, but this game series is very new to me, personally, and I'm having fun anyways. (From here on out I will be talking about my Custom Hawke and not like, Hawke the player character in general)

And gosh I'm such a sucker for complicated and messy family dynamics, and DA2 does that so well. Like the Hawke family is Fucked Up. Bethany gets killed by that ogre while they're fleeing Lothering when she tries to save their mom from said ogre, and Leandra immediately turns and blames Cedric for Bethany's death- and then later in Act 1, Carver, best baby brother Carver, also throws Bethany's death in his face while they're having their own stupid argument which started because Cedric was trying to cheer Carver up and boy did that fail dramatically.

Like Cedric is witty and charming and sarcastic and kind of an asshole sometimes, and comes of as incredibly over confident and cocksure and that's because he's very much been shoved into the role of 'okay you've gotta take care of everything and if you don't everything bad is Your Fault, and since you're in charge of taking care of everything, everything bad is automatically Your Fault No Matter What Anyways.' So he's gotta playact like he has everything all together and under control, because what the fuck is his family gonna do if he doesn't? And underneath all of that he's an incredibly stressed out guy, who does not feel like he can ever let on that he's stressed and making everything up as he goes and just hoping that things work out well.

And like he tries to do the right thing- by god does this man try. He brings Carver with him on the deep roads mission because he and Carver work well together! Carver wants to go! He loves his little brother, there is no one he would rather have by his side than his little brother! There is no one he trusts more than Carver to have his back! Carver and Cedric are incredibly close, (yes in the game's friendship/rivalry system Carver was locked in at full rivalry but that absolutely does not mean they weren't still very close and also friends). Like Carver is the one person who actually recognizes that the way Leandra projects all of her own issues onto them, but like mostly Cedric, is really shitty! He acknowledges that after apologizing for his part in the argument I mentioned above. And then of course Carver ends up getting the Blight during the deep roads mission, because nothing can every go right for them. Thankfully Cedric brought Anders along, so Carver is able to become a Grey Warden instead of DYING, but he has to leave, and Cedric doesn't even find out whether or not Carver survived his joining for months. And of course Leandra blames Cedric for this, she begged him not to bring Carver along with him, and he did anyways and now she's never going to see her youngest son again and it's all Cedric's fault. And that's how Act 1 ends and I just.... Auaghghghghhhh-

And then we've got Act 2, and like mid-way through Act 2 is probably the high point for Cedric. Things peak for him here and then it's all one big snowball downhill from there. So like, Cedric romanced Fenris, because this man is addicted to difficulty, and of course was going to immediately be infatuated with the guy that makes hating mages half his personality. (I mean it wasn't immediate, it was more of a slow build, mutual-trust, to friendship(and yes once again Fenris was at full rivalry but I stand by what I said about the friendship rivalry system earlier), to lovers thing, especially considering three years pass between Acts 1 and 2) And yeah, Cedric doesn't hide the fact that he's very into Fenris, and Fenris definitely hasn't seemed opposed to this. So after Fenris kills Hadriana and then they have that fun little argument that ends with Fenris pinning Cedric to the wall and kissing him 😳- Cedric is like, riding the high of what was probably the first positive physical affection he's gotten since Carver let for the Grey Wardens three years ago. And then of course the following morning Fenris immediately breaks things off with Cedric, so what Cedric thought was going to be the start to a romantic relationship, just ends up being an ill-fated one night stand. And like! Cedric does not begrudge Fenris this! He completely understands Fenris's reasons, he is not upset with Fenris at all! He is still just completely crushed though. So yeah, things peaked for Cedric for like one very short night and then start speeding downhill. Because not long after that is when his mom is killed by a fucking serial killer. As if things weren't already fucked enough for Cedric, already having lost his twin younger siblings.

Also side note- I love the fact that DA2 is portrayed as Varric telling the story of Hawke's life to Cassandra, and that we know Varric is an unreliable narrator. Because like Leandra's last words to Hawke being that she's so proud of her strong boy- at least with how Cedric's relationship was with Leandra up to this point- felt so so out of character for Leandra, and I love the headcanon that that's Varric giving his bestie some closure narratively that he never actually got in reality. So like that's canon for Cedric. Because that was Leandra's decapitated head frankensteined onto another woman's body- and magicked into a reanimated corpse that absolutely did not seem like it had any conscious thought- like she was already dead before Cedric showed up. There were no final words. There was no nice narratively satisfying ending to that one. And I like it better that way tbh........

We're just gonna like skip over the whole qunari invasion subplot because I am. Not a fan of how that was handled. Writing wise. Like what the fuck was that. Like I have THOUGHTS about it but they're not gonna go on tumblr. Anyways. Moving on.

Champion of Kirkwall! Yay! Meredith knows he's an apostate mage and is just Waiting for any half-decent excuse to either bring him to the circle, make him tranquil, or kill him? Not yay! Cedric is absolutely good friends with Anders, and has been helping with the mage underground every chance he has. People in the city have been whispering about making him of all people Viscount and he has no idea how to feel about that, like he'd rather not, but who else is gonna do it? And who else would do it and actually give a shit about mages and elves and just like lower class people in general? Like this incredibly stressed out guy does not need more added to his plate, he really doesn't. But he's definitely thinking about it. I mean hey! It's not like he's got any family around to take care of at this point right? Why not just take that eldest daughter syndrome thing he's got going on and use it to fix the city?

The one bright spot for him here is that hey, at least he and Fenris get back together. That one's nice. They both deserve something positive and comforting after all the shit they've been through.

And then Meredith is trying to invoke the right of annulment and Anders blows up the fucking Chantry. And Cedric can't even blame him for it. After 6 or 7 years of painstakingly working to try to find peaceful ways to improve the lives of mages and getting blocked at every turn, with the knowledge that Meredith has been getting worse and worse and worse, and has been actively looking for any excuse to invoke the right of annulment and just kill every single mage in Kirkwall? And Grand Cleric Elthina has been absolutely no help, and has absolutely been subtly on Meredith's side the entire time. Like at a certain point, violence really does feel like the only option left. When you've been backed this far into a corner.

So obviously Cedric takes the side of the mages, doesn't kill Anders, is honestly like 'my dude, my buddy, my guy, my best pal(aside from Varric, and my boyfriend Fenris) why didn't you tell me? I would've helped you on purpose.' He's elated when Carver shows up during that final push to the Gallows, like the whole situation is absolutely shit, and it'd definitely be better if his beloved brother was no where near danger, but he's a Grey Warden now so that's not even an option anyways. So it's just nice to have him around even during such an intensely stressful moment. Honestly everything is so unbelievably fucked at this point that Cedric isn't even stressed anymore. Like things literally cannot get worse. He's kind of riding the high of things not being able to get worse. Or maybe that's just adrenaline. Who knows. Aveline and Sebastian both leave, Cedric is unbothered. Doesn't even try to convince Aveline to side with him later either, like he's never really gotten along with her, and he did not like how she treated Carver. Fenris and everyone else stick around, and that's what matters to Cedric, like all the people he was actually close friends with stick with him in this moment (Fenris, Varric, Isabella, Merrill, Anders, & Carver)

And then yeah, they save the mages, defeat Meredith, leave Kirkwall with the renegade mages. Everyone goes their separate ways due to one reason or another, except Fenris. At least Cedric does get to keep one positive close relationship around.

[v4mpgutz]

⊹₊ ⋆ CUT & SEWN JUST FOR: @ladyinbl00d

₊˚꒰🎀꒱‧ BABYDOLL DRESSES : dallas winston, 'enchanted' by taylor swift, meeting for the first time.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃, 𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧

❝ all i can say is i was enchanted to meet you. ❞

warnings — movie dallas (matt dillon), mention of armed robbery, smoking, fluff, love at first sight vibes, dallas being dallas

dallas winston had never set foot inside a bookstore — that is unless you count the one time in new york before he was arrested. at that time though, he was brought along by these guys he would hang around in the subway. he watched as they pulled a gun on the old lady running the shop, the woman cowering as she handed them the money.

dallas thought about that often, he wasn't sure why they decided it had to be a bookstore of all places — did they even make money worth taking?

he hadn't exactly planned to go into that kind of store ever again, he wasn't the kind of guy that enjoyed literature of any kind and he couldn't be caught in a place like that; it would ruin his reputation. on one particular day though, he found himself being dragged to 'the book garden' — ponyboy's favourite store.

unfortunately for dallas, today he was tasked with accompanying johnny and pony as everyone else was busy. it's not that he didn't like them, because he did, he'd just rather spend his saturday doing anything else.

the three of them walked into the store where you just so happened to be working today. you glanced up at the ring of the bell when the door opened, seeing the trio of greasers. you gave a small smile to ponyboy, recognising him as he was a frequent customer. johnny you knew from school when he came and dallas — well, everyone knew dallas — but you didn't know him.

you kept yourself busy where you were, stocking the shelf with new additions. there were lots of interesting copies in there of old fairytales, you picked up a stack of seven rather thick books and walked slowly towards the fantasy section.

you could barely see over the stack but you knew your way around the store well so you felt confident enough to walk through blind. you did feel confident walking through blind, at least, that was until somebody bumped into you and made you and your stack of books fall to the floor.

you frowned, wincing as your knees came into contact with the hard wood.

you started gathering your books hurriedly, hearing a huff from above you. "you should watch where you're goin', huh? people are tryin' to walk here."

you swallowed hard and got up, balancing the pile of books in your arms once again and coming face-to-face with dallas winston.

"i'm— i'm sorry..." you sputtered out in apology, feeling embarrassment creep its way into your gut. you really should've known something like this had to happen at some point — you just didn't expect it to be dallas in particular.

the roughed up teen chewed the inside of his cheek, his eyes noticeably looking you up and down as if examing you before he looked away for a moment. he licked his teeth in a smile as he turned back to you.

"so— so what are you? uh, a— a librarian?" he asked with a little chuckle. "kinda cute."

you blinked slowly, his words catching up with you. "no... librarians work in libraries," you told him as you chewed your lip, "hence the name."

dallas tilted his head to the side and back into place in a shrug, letting out a low hum in acknowledgement. he wasn't the brightest, okay? how was he supposed to know that?

"you work here then?" he asked, despite it being obvious due to your attire and the fact you were cleary putting new stock away.

"mhm, yeah," you told him as you slid the books you were holding into their correct places on the shelf. "been working here for two years or so."

dallas nodded and sucked his cheeks in, rolling his eyes as ponyboy called him over to the exit.

"well," dallas leant down slightly as he got closer to your face, "i s'pose you might be seein' be around here more often," he claimed with a wonky grin.

"what?" you questioned with a furrowed brow, "you like reading?"

"no," dallas shook his head, "i seem to be growing quite fond of you though, darlin'."

you were flattered despite the fact that this was your first proper meeting — you understand why so many girls from your school would talk about him now. you were definitely falling for his charm, that's for sure.

"o— okay... bye," you told him quickly before hurrying back over to the staff room and closing the door. you leant against the wall and cupped your face in your hands, letting out a little screech of embarrassment and gently smacking yourself.

dallas winston had never set foot in a bookstore — and now he would make sure he did at least weekly.

RIVER'S BLURB: DAVI listen. i know this is kinda short i am sorry 😓 but i hope you like it and sorry it literally took me a gazillion years ok byebye