#without regret or relinquishment

[saltedsalads]

its finished :) i hope its not awful

i wanted to do a lot with this chapter, there were a bunch of things i just completely removed and the order was very different as well. there will be spoilers below so.. BEWAREEE

answering some questions ahem

1. So in what life times did Temari remember shikamaru in?

temari did chose to remember shikamaru when they died in the second life time. so yes, in the 3rd, 4, and so on she remembered him. she wasn’t exactly immortal? its the sort of thing i wanted to go more in depth with but just started to overcomplicate things. In short, when temari turns a certain age lets say 13? she regains all her memories, so when she killed rasa, in that moment she remembered everything he had done throughout every life time. so, if you reread that bit.. it might make more sense.

2.Why was it set up like this?

i chose to set it up this way to sort of keep the reader interested? at first i didnt like it, every chapter was originally gonna be different life time— however it seemed too repetitive if i did that so my friend elise went, "why dont you just sprinkle in moments from the life times?" and wallaaah :]

3. Kotetsu and Izumo

kotetsu and izumo do know, yes! thought it would be cool there was no real reason behind it lolol

4. Kenji

kenji is an oc? i was looking through all the technical "gods" in the naruto verse and none of them made sense within the plot. im not even joking i spent like an hour reading about every otso idek how to spell it— but yea, none of them really made sense for what i was going for :]

5. Their limbos

ok ok im gonna start with shikamaru's because his isn't exactly.. specified i guess? His limbo is a beach, it was meant to represent how he enjoyed relaxing and just being able to stare at the clouds. It's a limbo made specifically for him, due to the fact he was mostly doing what he was told in the first two life times. Shikamaru is someone who doesn't willingly put himself out there for anything, if he's told to do it, he would— so in reality— he was sort of excused from his actions? but also not? i mean hey, he was just a puppet, sooooooo

Temaris

Temari's was meant to drive her insane. It didn't work that well. In the first lifetime, she was a general, who killed literally to prove a point that she was worthy of life. The second, is basically the same thing. The first lifetimes she was in her fathers hold to the point she would do anything to prove him wrong, to prove she was worthy of just existing. Her limbo is a representation of that. She was trapped in a room with the same melody playing over and over. Just as she made the same mistake, the mistake of letting rasa get the best of her.

6. r u ok

no ^^

anyway yes i just dont know how to write anything other than angst someone help plea

7. inspiration?

uh my dreams lol

my brain is constant dialogue, so when i try to sleep i have to plan an hour ahead because my brain will not shut up :D i started to write down ideas i got from trying to go to sleep and i swear there are like 18 different notes on my phone of just random misspelt ideas :p

[yanderehsr]

Thinking about the "veronica open the door please!"....What if reader was to lock themselves in the bathroom to get rid of the yandere after a break up? Could I please have this scenario?^^ Ooooo make that be hibiscus lunae, Venti and Aether! Also, how r u? How have u been? Do you mind the fact that I send quite a few requests? Anyways, ty for reading my request <33

Ah yes, Hibiscus Lunae🤣. And no need to be worried, you can send in as many asks as you want.

Anyways, hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Imbibitor Lunae: He bangs on the door over and over again, hoping to break it down, to get you back, he can hear your whimpers of fear yet cannot bring himself to care right now, you are HIS, he must have you back. He just needs this stuped door down.

When Imbibitor Lunae finally breaks down the door and sees you on the ground, crying and trying to push yourself further back, he can't help but to be happy, you are here and you are coming with him, whether you want to or not.

"I regret ever agreeing to this break up, what I have said before holds true now as well, you are mine, always has been and always will"

Venti: Come out, Comeoutcomeoutcomeout, don't you trust him, why do you lock yourself away from him, the boy is desperate, he will punch, kick and scratch the door, please come out, he wants you back, no he needs you back.

Venti begs you to come out, he needs to see you. He may be an archon but he wouldn't hesitate to grovel on the ground as long as he gets a second chance, should he not get that second chance then he would break the door down and tackle you into the ground, Venti will cry and hug you, now don't struggle, he will just take you somewhere only he will ever gaze upon you again.

"Honey, please talk to me... I-I need to hear your voice, can you not do this for your boyfriend... what do you mean break up, we never broke up, stop spouting lies"

Aether: You can hear him from the other side, banging on the door and screaming at you to open, he doesn't sound angry, more worried than that. You didn't think your ex boyfriend would show up to get you back, much less try and force you back into the relationship, it seems his possessiveness hadn't relinquished.

You can see Aether's efforts is starting to crack the wood in the door, you curl up to protect yourself, it may be useless when it's the Traveler of all people trying to get you, but it makes you feel safe, you hear the door break open, all is quiet until you feel his warm embrace around you, he hugs you and says nothing until...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you... why did you have to break up with me, all I wanted you to be is safe... now hold on, I'll carry you somewhere better, somewhere without any people who will steal you away"

[bts-hyperfixation]

What do you think the boys would've done on their last nights with their significant others before joining the military?

Some of these are last nights, others are full days. Also only Taes has explicit smut mention, although most mention sex in some fashion

Please send me asks to keep me motivated while I'm off work! Thirsty thoughts, Most likely to, reactions, life updates, and general gibberish welcomed!!

Namjoon: 

I think Namjoon would've wanted a quiet night. He was probably stuck at work trying to finish plans on that Instagram account that's still posting and maybe fiddling with the album we know he started. But he would have tried his hardest to put it down and return home by nine to spend time with his loved one. His partner would be waiting for him with a simple takeaway on the table and maybe a TV show they had been watching together queued up. They'd stay cuddled on the couch for the longest time. They'd maybe fall around but not get anywhere (Something Namjoon regrets by day 3 in the barracks), maybe they intended to have sex one last time before he left but neither wanted to acknowledge it was actually the last time. He would talk about how this was ridiculous, it's not like they'd be 18 months without one another, just a couple of months at a time is all... And then he'd get sad and introspective. They'd fall asleep on the sofa because going to bed would bring their last night to an end and Namjoon doesn't want to willingly relinquish that time. 

Seokjin: 

I think he hired out a restaurant he and his partner like, maybe even their first date restaurant. The partner actually panicked that Jin was going to propose the night before he left and was ready to yell at him if he pulled out a ring. Jin sets up multiple proposal cliches throughout the evening giving his partner a heart attack each time while he acts nonchalant about it, pretending he doesn't know why they are getting worked up. This is stuff like a jewellery box on the table (It's a necklace), A gem in the champagne (It's tiny ice), He kneels by the table (and ties his shoe). They take a long walk by the river after dinner, his partner increasingly exasperated but still very fond. He finally does pull out a ring, but he insists it's only a promise ring and the real ring will be given to them on June 14th 2024 (Doesn't want to share the anniversary). The evening probably ended with some very slow, heavy eye-contact, love-making

Yoongi:

Disclaimer - I'm not 100% sure if Yoongi had to go anywhere for any length of time... but this is written as if he were doing the same as the other boys. 

He cooked dinner, something he is gonna claim is simple, but he took all day to make it. He also lay the table with a white tablecloth, dimmed all the lights and set out candles. Flower petals lead you through different stations of the apartment. First appetizers and cocktails on the sofa so his partner can talk about their day, then to the table for the main course, to the bathroom where bubbly and strawberries await next to a warm bath for two, and finally to bed for dessert. Which actually meant dessert, there's a snack platter of sweets in the centre of the bedspread and a movie queued up on the TV. the movie wasn't really watched... but the thought was there.

Hoseok: 

I feel like Hobi made an entire day out of it, he set aside time to make sure he only had his significant other to focus on and made sure his SO did the same so they were uninterrupted. Then he locked them into their apartment, only opening the door to bring in food deliveries. The day starts with lazy morning sex. Then breakfast. Then lazy shower sex. Then maybe some TV time, where his hands remain firmly on his partner as if they are going to disappear the second he lets them go. The SO convinces him to go for a walk at lunchtime, they hold hands the entire time. Hoseok has them sit in his lap when they return home. Just wants to be permanently close. The third round of sex is definitely more driven, like he has a point to prove and doesn't want his SO to forget what exactly it is they are going to be waiting so patiently for. 

Jimin: 

Jimin took his SO back to his home town a couple of days before. Maybe spent some time with his family in Busan, had a very nostalgic craving for his parents cooking and took his SO along for the ride. They do stuff he liked to do as a kid, visiting places that he wouldn't be easily recognised. He's anxious, and jumpy, and clingy a lot of the time. He keeps asking his partner if they are going to be okay when really it's his own insecurity. Jimin had someone drive them in a nice car back to Seoul in the early afternoon so they had the evening together, they probably fooled around in the car as he tried to keep himself occupied. He let them hold his hand while he had his head shaved, needing the familiar reassurance. He took a break to show Army his hair, but the SO is hiding behind the camera. Then the evening is spent quietly, wrapped together to enforce the fact that they aren't going anywhere.

Taehyung: 

He came up with so many different plans for what he wanted to do that by the time the day came around he hadn't actually implemented any of them. And sure he is Taehyung of BTS, if he had made a couple last minute phonecalls he could have made anything happen but he decides the lack of plans is exactly what was meant to be. He runs on pure unplanned whims and ends up taking his SO to absolutely anywhere that pops into his mind in the most chaotic fashion. They go to the movies (Something everyone's already seen so no one else is there) (they may spend most of it making out in the back). They go to an arcade (An old buddy of Tae's owns it and makes sure they get an hour uninterrupted). They eat lunch at the SO's favourite restaurant. Eventually, they go home and Taehyung spends hours between his lover's thighs, trying to immortalise the taste of them in his brain before he no longer has the access he so desperately craves. They probably also have a lot of sex. He falls asleep insisting on cockwarming, convincing his partner the UTI will be worth it with the Tata mic face. 

Jungkook:

It takes a while for his SO to convince him to do anything at all because "What's wrong with in my arms in my bed forever?" (And he's right, nothing wrong with that and if his SO don't want it I volunteer). He convinced them to snuggle back down with him at least three times until lunch rolled around and they insisted he get up with them to go somewhere. They never end up leaving the house. Every time his SO goes to put on a shirt, Jungkook grabs it and throws it somewhere it can't be easily recovered. There was one in the sink with the dirty dishes, one mixed with the already dirty laundry, and another hanging from a light fixture they would both need a ladder to reach. Eventually, the SO has to relent because they won't have any shirts to say goodbye in the following day. So they succumb to his wishes (Although they make him go out to fetch food first). He holds on to them possessively throughout the day, pulling as much of them against him as is reasonable at any given time. I fully believe Jungkook would crawl into the skin of an SO if he thought it was possible. 

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ ITOSHI RIN ; — he promised he would never make you sad. even new promises can be born out of broken ones.

࿄ ! warnings — gn!reader except for the usage of ‘girl’, angst & lots of comfort. sfw! / note. my first time writing for rin so go easy on me :,} he makes my heart so warm. enjoy lovies <3

arguments with rin were akin to a battlefield. it hurts more than anything when he spits venom in your face, relaying words that should never be said by a man to his woman.

perhaps it’s the fact that you know him so deeply that reassures a hopeful part of you - a part of you that loves the dark, teal-hued haired man. it’s so tumultuous the way rin can go from zero to a hundred in seconds and suddenly, you’re walking on egg shells around him.

this time though, he knows for certain he’s fucked up. he can see it in the way fat tears run down the softness of your pink cheeks, and in the way that you relinquish all your weaponry, baring only a white flag and your soul:

“you’re right, rin. what do i know?”

it’s been a day and half and rin feels like hot garbage. he’s taking advantage of every half time to see if you’d message him first and his fingers always hover and twitch over the keyboard before the screen inevitably turns dark at his lack of activity and all he can see is his own tired and regretful face staring right back at him.

it was always you who'd reach out and, while he would seldom admit this to anyone, you were a constant in his life, the one person who understood him better than even himself. and now, he could feel you slipping out of his grasp, feeling a sense of despair creeping in.

he’s moving like he’s on auto pilot for the tedious remainder of his practice and he’s realised that you both haven’t gone this long without speaking in a long while and it sucks. why wouldn’t you understand that he’s a working man? he - you both knew that this was complicated. he was a professional footballer now - on the precipice of surpassing his older brother, and could you truly understand all the pressures and expectations that came with it?

rin doesn’t even know the answer to that anymore. though, what he does know is that he’s treated a good girl bad. and he’d be damned if he let his inferiority get in the way of loving you like you deserve.

“rin? you good, bro? you look like shit.” says isagi and rin scoffs before grabbing the black haired man by his shirt and pulling him close.

“what the fu-?!”

“tell coach i’ll be right back. something’s come up.”

rin speeds out the building before anyone can protest, taking nothing but his desire for you. he just hopes he gets there on time.

but it’s not like you’re doing anything particularly profound yourself. having called sick from university for a second day in the row, you’re eating leftover curry from the nights before... the nights when you and rin were cuddled up and you were spoon feeding him this exact meal.

you couldn’t stop the tears from dribbling down your face and right into your bowl. you hate that idiot. you hate that your heart beats for him and him only, even though he makes you feel like this on the bad days.

‘but there shouldn’t be any bad days,’ you think and the wrists of your sweater mop up any salty tears and snot from your face.

you can’t help but wonder if this was a sign from the universe - if you were destined to go your separate ways, to become nothing more than distant memories of a simpler time, a time in which rin would’ve ate glass if it meant he’d never see you cry again.

“you don’t have to do that, idiot,” you giggle, “though it would be a good punishment. are you manifesting that for yourself?”

rin shakes his head that’s kneading against your bare tummy, your t-shirt having been ridden up so he could press his cheek against the warm skin of your belly.

“just shut up… i would do a lot of things so that you’d never cry,” he grumbles cutely, ears red and you run your fingers through his hair as he lets out a puff of air.

“i’ll hold you to that, rinnie.”

three hard knocks against your front door throws you out of your reminiscing and you quickly wipe and pat at your face as hard as you can to brush away any remnants of a sadness-fuelled crying session before padding away to open at the door.

“hi - oh.”

you don’t know why you’re so surprised to see him but to see him like this? all sweated up, out of breath and pink in the face were all symptoms that were reserved for his football practice. the rin you knew would never sacrifice his prime training hours just to see you-

“just give me a minute. you - you don’t have to let me in. but i just wanted to say i love you, y/n. and you deserve better than - than, i don’t even want to say it,” rambles rin, who’s short of breath and he doesn’t know if it’s from running all the way over to see you or if it’s from trying not to get distracted by how devastatingly gorgeous you look, even when he’s the reason for your heartbreak. you’re wearing the sweater that he got you and your eyes are all doe-eyed and glassy and your plump lips are pursed together.

“but i’ll say it anyway because it needs to come from me. you deserve better than me. and i’ll still want you regardless, even though i don’t deserve you. and i’m sorry. i’d still eat glass even if you want me to but it still wouldn’t be enough. i’m sorry.”

rin exhales loudly and closes his eyes for a moment so he doesn’t have to see the hurt on your face but all it does it prevent the anticipation of seeing your arms fly over his waist.

“you’re such an idiot, rin,” you sob, face stuffed in his jersey and he all but wraps two strong arms around and rests his face into your hair, wanting - needing to be engulfed by everything that you are.

“i still hate you for making me sad,” you say, all muffled and sniffly and he breathes out a little harshly at that, wincing but he knows he deserves more than a few pointed words from you.

“i hate myself for making you sad,” he murmurs and you sniffle even more.

“you should definitely eat glass after this,” you mumble and rin presses his lips into the crown of your head and hums.

“as long as it’s made by you.”

“shut up… you should, sniff, go back to practice,” you whisper after pulling your face from the comfort of your boyfriend’s warm and toned body.

“you’re sure you don’t want me to stay?” rin frowns and for the first time in almost three days does he see a beautiful grin take up your face and he has to stop himself crumbling into the floor while you nod fervently.

“seriously, you should go. i don’t want to be the reason why bachira and isagi start going off on you,” you giggle and rin’s lips upturn slightly and he lets out a half chuckle.

“yeah, you’re right. but i won’t be too long so… wait for me?”

“…ok,” you bite your bottom lip and rin holds back the dire urge to kiss you but given the circumstances, he decides not to overstep, already elated that you still want him in spite of his behaviour.

he nods again and goes to leave the vestibule of your home when you pull his arm back.

the dark haired man turns to look at you in confusion, “what-” but he is merely interrupted by your hands that grab at his neck and the push of your lips onto his own.

the way rin kisses back in reciprocity is almost instantaneous and too wild for you to keep up as his hands splay themselves across the small of your back to your waist. your mouth tastes like a faint hue of katsu curry and even so, rin can’t help but slot his lips over yours. you eventually throw your arms around his neck to get impossibly closer to the man and even though he’s smells vaguely sweaty, you can’t help but be addicted to the scent anyway. especially when he holds you like he can’t get enough of you and it makes a fire rumble in the pits of your belly.

“i don’t hate you by the way,” you say when you break apart the kiss to whisper on his lips and he hums, all placant and appeased from being in your arms.

“i know,” and rin leans down to kiss at you one last time and you push him away playfully.

“you should definitely go now. they’re gonna be on you when you come back,” you twinkle and rin can’t help but mirror the soft expression that sits on your face.

“i’ll see you later, y/n,” he nods, taking your knuckles to his mouth, and the action makes you roll your eyes and he smirks this time around.

“okay, okay, i’m gone.”

when you finally get to shut the door behind you, you saunter off to the couch to see a notification light up your phone.

rinnie <3: on my way back. i love you.

a salty droplet hits your phone screen but this time, it’s not a cause of sadness; more so, a cause of adoration for the idiot. your idiot.

you: i love you too, rinnie :) have a good rest of your practice!

the striker has missed approximately 30 minutes of practice by the time he languidly strolls through to the pitch and multiple sharp eyes land on him - despite his attempt at blending in to make it seem like he never left.

to say that the guys on the team lambasted him would be an understatement. rin makes a mental promise to never induce sadness in you again, lest he face the wrath of his annoying teammates. though he doesn’t really care what those idiots think.

he’d run out of a million more games if it meant he needed to make things right with you.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © moominsuki. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[websterss]

CUDDLE COMFORT — ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

SUMMARY: Evenings with Anthony are what you look forward to the most when given the chance to finally rest, especially after long cases.

WARNING(S): Slight insinuation but that’s it really, fluff

WORD COUNT: 2,222

PAIRING: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

After you had bid Lucy and George a goodnight. You hurriedly follow Anthony into his and yours shared bedroom. He was not in the mood after tonight's case, especially after having Kipps and his crew lend a hand. It didn’t take long for him to burst out of the stopped taxi and make his way inside. Now here you are, watching him try to wind down from the built up rage and exhaustion inside him.

You lean back against the door, it closes with a click. You tuck your hands into your back pockets. You lean your head back against the wood watching as Anthony furiously tries to undo the knot of his tie. He clenches his jaw as he pulls against the material. When it doesn’t budge he moves on to take his shoes off instead. One after the other being thrown off to the side carelessly, something you know he’ll regret doing by the morning. He lets out a sigh and tries to control his breathing. You take notice in the way his fist clenches.

You push off the door and make your way over to stand between his legs. He subconsciously widens his spread to allow you to get closer. You hum as you reach forward and gently work on the knot he couldn’t get undone himself. He finds comfort in your serene stature, your shoulders slouched and fimble hands moving swiftly and slowly. He envy’s the way you’re not nearly as bothered as he was. Kipps’ stupid face slowly starts to dissolve from his memory as your fingertips brush against his jaw. He reaches forward to pull you closer in by the waist. His fingertips lift the hem of your shirt just enough to graze your skin. It had been a long day and all he wanted was nothing more than to feel you under his fingertips. To revel in the linger of your soft touches and your lavender scent. You pull out the tie from around his neck and begin to wrap it around your hand. It doesn’t take long for his head to fall against somewhere along the area of your stomach. You glance down and start to thread your fingers through his locks. You add in the occasional back rub to help him further relax. He hums, enduring in the pleasure you relieve on his back muscles. You knew that Anthony needed to find tranquility within the four walls of his and yours bedroom, and fast, or else he’d spiral into madness.

He pulls back slowly. His tiredness was clear as day. His dark black circles only make his lack of sleep more apparent. He keeps his hands at your waist. Letting you take over. Your hands now work on removing his dress shirt. A few smudges of dirt coating the once white fabric. You mindlessly work your way down the shirt, finding solitude in the silence that washes over you two. His eyes watch your every move with attentiveness as you help him undress. A dynamic some wouldn’t understand but one you both relinquish in. It’s intimate…private. It was your thing.

You stand back up after undoing the last button. Anthony closes his eyes in delight as you push his disheveled locks back. “Pajamas tonight or…“ You trail off to allow him to ponder his choices. You smooth your hands over his collarbones and under his shirt to slide it off his shoulders. Anthony lifts his chin as he helps you maneuver the sleeves down to his wrist. You can feel the knobs turning in his head upon seeing his signature grin showcase itself. A glint of mischief glosses over his brown eyes.

“We could do without them tonight, no? Besides, they would just get in the way like always.” You throw your head back laughing. Only he would be in the mood after a horrendous day. You adored your boyfriend with a passion. He never fails to make your nights after a long ass day of ghost hunting. His stomach flutters hearing his favorite tune. It only makes him laugh along with you cause your laugh was incredibly affectionate.

“No.” You groan. Your face pinches into a pout. You hang on to his shoulders loosely, head still thrown back.

“Come on.” He tilts his head. Though he knew just from the shit day you’ve all had that you both would not last very long. He’d be surprised if he even lasted enough for a make out. He was barely surviving off of what little bit of energy he did have left. No way he’d be able to put in the energy to tango with you. You likewise. You weren’t any better. He could see it clearly on you just how exhausted you were. If his dark circles were anything to go by, it was the fact you weren’t even trying to hide how tired you were anymore. Your eyes weren’t far from drooping shut. You were ready for bed. You had allowed yourself to finally relax the minute you stepped foot inside the house. You were physically drained and yet you somehow still remained on your two feet. Your features are relaxed now. No lines visible. Just the crinkles from your squinted eyes. “We will not last a second, my darling.” He admits with a light laugh. His eyes begin to droop and fall shut for a split second. The hand in his hair was not allowing him to stay awake.

“A millisecond more like it…Anthony, I’m as dead as-“ You began with a complaint. Your brows furrow in thought. Your brain falters as you can’t manage to come up with anything to compare being as dead as. “Well…I’m not exactly sure now, but what I do know is that I am incredibly tired and on the verge of passing out.” You breathe out a laugh. A boisterous laugh emits past Anthony’s lips as you take off your jacket and shirt rather hastily. You blow a raspberry as you let the clothes hit the carpet. Your hands flop to your sides as you stand in an unflattering way. You might as well resemble the hunchback from Notre Dame. “Where’s your shirt?” You begin walking around the room to find your version of pajamas. Underwear and a big tee always do the trick for you. Anthony leans back against his hands. He arches a brow, amused as you shuffle back and forth. Your hands pressed against your bra covered breast as you searched for his shirt. An adorable habit of yours he loved.

“I think you forgot another layer.” His implication behind his smirk isn’t missed by you. You just choose to ignore him.

“Nope, I’m good.” You hum as you start throwing loose clothing around. “Where is it…” You mutter under your breath.

“Would you like me to assist you?” He begins unzipping his trousers, opting to exchange them for a pair of sweats.

“To find your shirt? Yeah that’d be nice!” You stifle a laugh watching his smirk fall. “Ah, there you are- haha.” You boast in victory. You let out a monster like growl, close enough to have you mistaken for the Cookie Monster. You slip the shirt over your head and through your arms. You reach behind you and unclip the bra from under the shirt. You slide the straps smoothly down each arm and take it out from the front of your shirt. Your smirk grows as you hold the bra in front of Anthony’s face. The strap dangling from your finger.

“I don’t know why you choose to remove it under the shirt. It’s not like I haven’t seen them before you know. Gorgeous might I add, they deserve to be freed.”

“I know they do…” You nod in agreement. “And I know you’ve seen them, but I’m tired. If I free them and show them to you, you’ll go primal on me. We’re tired, let’s just rest tonight, yeah? Sleep in. Also it feels a little bit exposing at the moment especially when I’m not in the mood.” You poke his stomach causing him to flinch away. “I felt the need to take my bra off this way-“

“No, no no. It’s okay. I get it. You don’t need to further explain it to me. I shouldn’t have implied or suggested that.” He holds you by the arms. A faint tired smile mirroring your own. He rubs his palms up and down your skin. You sigh and let your eyes fall shut. It doesn’t take long till he’s tugging you into bed with him. “No more further implications. Let’s just get into bed.” He crawls in through his side, while you crawl on the bed to get to yours. The covers are thrown back. Each of you taking to your preferred sides. You both settle under the covers after a passing of wiggling around to get situated. Anthony extends out his right arm, and you find your place cuddled up into his side. You sigh heavily. Groaning out a moan as the mattress and covers invite you with a warm embrace. You can feel the heat radiate off Anthony’s chest. He lets out a soft chuckle as he nuzzles his face into your neck. A tender kiss pressed against your skin. You hum in delight as he goes for your hands, intertwining them together. He brings your hand up to his lips, giving them a kiss which he transitions into draping your intertwined hands over your side. You occasionally switch up the spooning but it looks like he preferred to be the big spoon tonight. Who were you to argue with that? A beat passed then you started up with a softness in your tone. You both liked to converse about your days before sleep overtook you.

“I cannot believe that Kipps' crew came to the rescue once again.”

“We were not rescued.” He pulls you closer, a scoff falling in your ears. You roll your eyes. You know how prideful he grew to be. Too cocky to admit that this case was way out of your control. 

“I don’t know...” You argued. “Having him pull you back over the railing seems like he rescued you.” You turn your head a tad to meet his eyes. He now rolled his eyes.

“I had it handled.” 

“You were dangling from one arm.” You quirked a brow at him. “Your hand was slipping...” 

“A mere moment of weakness.” He brushed it off. “Given another minute, I’d been able to pull myself over.” He gave his signature grin.

“Anthony.” You sighed. “You were rescued. They rescued us. Thank god they came when they did.” You settled your head on his shoulder. You raised your intertwined hands up to your lips to seal your love upon his knuckles. “I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you had they not. You’re here because of him whether you refuse to acknowledge that or not. We’re here, on account of the many times Kipps crew have saved us. You may hate him for showing up and granting us our lives again, but I’m grateful for that bloke alright. Thankful he’s given us another day to lay here...to cuddle and all.” You breathe out a shaky laugh. Tears brimming your waterline. You only lightly laugh further as he wraps his arms around you more securely. 

“I do...I do acknowledge that the walking appendix has rescued us.” You scoffed at his attempts to compliment him. “I am grateful. I promise you I am.” He presses a kiss against your temple. “I cherish our cuddles entirely too much...”

“But?” You edge on.

“I am not admitting that we were in fact vulnerable nor thanking him.” 

“I expected nothing less from you.” You pressed your cheek against his chest. Your eyes flutter. Sleep overpowering your bodies as you're wrapped in each other’s embraces.

“You’re gonna write him a letter and have us all sign it aren’t you?” He groans, his eyes closed shut, and his mind still awake at this point. 

“Might even send a goody basket. Think he prefers doughnuts or strudels?” You hum out. 

“I don’t care.” He shifts again and settles into a comfortable position. You hummed, finding comfort as silence fills the room again. A beat passes, then... 

“Strudels.” He huffs, giving in. If he couldn’t stop you, he’d join you. 

“Really? I saw him more as a pie sort of person.” Your face scrunches in question. Your eyes still remain shut. 

“Strudels. End of discussion. Now go to sleep.” He groans as you get pulled flushed against his skin. His hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt under the covers. His hand doesn’t stray lower than the hem, only lifting it a bit to meet the skin of your stomach. You stop shifting and relax your muscles. Reveling in Anthony’s soft touches. He thought peace finally overcame you. That you both would fall asleep, which would put an end to this night, and wake to begin the start of the next day. He knew better than to welcome your silence so suddenly.

“I think I’m going to make him a pie instead.” Your eyes open, focused on the ceiling. Anthony groans, hiding his face in your neck. 

“Go to sleep...” He muffles out.

“Strawberry or apple. Think he’d like apple?”

[prophecyofwinter]

Se Riña Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | IV

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen daughter of Jaehaerys I ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | Slowburn, TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed, tags to be added

Prologue | Chapter III | Chapter V | Masterlist

Chapter IV | First Day of the Rest of your Life

“Pull yourself together and present yourself properly. This is my mother, the Queen. Do not make anyone regret allowing you here.”

His voice shocked you, the way he gripped your arm shocked you. Nothing like the way he caressed your hand and spoke low compliments into your ear less than half an hour before. You’ve done nothing to offend him and yet he’s holding you like a parent scolding a child. Looking at his expression all you can read is a slight annoyance, otherwise it’s a look of indifference.

Allowed? You were not ‘allowed’ you were asked, if anything you allowed yourself here.

“Release me! Is this how guests are treated in Westeros?” You say through clenched teeth roughly tugging yourself out of Aemonds grasp.

If this is how it shall be, so be it.

Aemond looked shocked by your sudden aggression, a momentary slip of his mask. His jaw tightened and let out a huff like a little boy.

“I am treating you far more kindly than what others will. Heed my advice.” Aemond ends the conversation there by knocking on the carriage door with the back of his hand, not breaking eye contact.

The door opens and Aemond moves to leave first, extending his hand to help you out of the carriage.

You take his hand hesitantly, there is no other choice for the sake of appearances.

You gaze up once you are standing on solid ground and without obstruction you see the Red Keep in all its glory. The red stone and towers that blocked the sun to the point where you were surprised the town didn’t spend most of the day in darkness.

Your mother told you many stories about her nefarious ‘activities’ she got up to while living here. Of course for most of these you spent covering your ears and begging her to stop.

Aemond linked his arm with yours, leading you forward across the dirt floor of the courtyard. You stopped your gawking in favor of looking towards the Queen. You haven’t seen many people with red hair before, it must be common here. She holds herself with impeccable posture, something your mother would imitate to mock Westerosi women for their piousness.

“Welcome to King’s Landing, Y/N, I hope the journey went without trouble. I know the sea can be moody this time of year. I’m glad Aemond got you from the port in one piece.” Alicent greeted you with a soft smile. You could see her eyes glancing over your clothes. It made you feel as though you were standing in front of her naked.

“Thank you Queen Alicent, I am grateful for the invitation. The sea has treated me well, as has Prince Aemond.” You gave a curtsy to her, gripping Aemonds bicep harder. You could feel every function in your body working at full speed, embarrassing yourself is your worst fear right now.

“Thank you, my Queen.” The armored man next to Alicent spoke up. He was clearly a guard of some kind, with black hair, facial hair, and a judging expression directed at you. “You live in Westeros now, she is your Queen.”

A silence fell over after the man’s words, both Alicent and Aemond gave him a short glance of confusion while you froze up.

“Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it I swear-“ You said trying to save yourself.

“Do not worry sweet girl, Ser Criston meant nothing by it. He is just bothered that Aemond is late to his training session. Why don’t I take you while Aemond trains?” Alicent steps forward to rub your upper arm and give a slight tug to signal you to let go of Aemond.

“That would be very lovely, my Queen.” You smile and relinquish your hold on Aemond in favor of standing closer to Alicent. She begins walking expecting you to follow, and you do. While walking you glance back and notice Aemond staring back at you while walking his own way.

—————

Alicent makes small talk with you about small things like foods from Essos, what Volantis is like, how your mother is fairing and so on.

The halls of the keep are long and filled with many trinkets along the way. You gaze out the windows when you pass by, you can see a rather large forest within the walls and out another you see the ocean with a garden with gazebos and walkways. The scent of fresh flowers passes through your nose making you feel relaxed.

“Excuse me my Queen. As much as I love this tour, I am rather tired from my voyage.” You say trying not to sound rude but you were feeling really tired. Alicent so far has been kind so you thought it would be alright to request to be shown your quarters.

“Of course you are. I don’t mean to keep you for much longer, but first we must get you checked by one of the Maesters.” Alicent said while leading you down a cobblestone staircase deeper into the bowels of the keep.

You hadn’t even realized how far down you were, surely this was the last level of the keep with windows. You knew exactly what she meant. Your face started to heat up and your heart was beating fast just by the premise.

“By getting me checked, do you mean…”

“Checking to make sure you’re still intact. Unless that is an issue…?” Alicent stopped at the bottom of the steps looking at you from the side, her demeanor unchanging.

“No of course not! It just sounds… uncomfortable.” You twiddle with your hands to ease your nerves. You can’t quite think of a word to describe how having an old man look at your most intimate area makes you feel. If there is even a good word to use.

Alicent, seemingly happy with your response, begins walking deeper down the stone hall and you walk fast to catch up.

“Maesters are men of the faith, they have no care for intimacy. They have seen hundreds of women. Our current Maester helped me birth all four of my children and will help you birth yours.” The way Alicent explains it makes sense but, men without desire? Every kind of man everywhere has visited a brothel at least once, no? You shake the thought from your head for your own comfort.

She stops at a wooden door and grabs the handle but doesn’t open the door.

“If it helps I will be in the room with you.” Alicent gives you a small smile and opens the door. You follow her in, trying your best to not let your gaze wander to the floor.

“Maester Mellos. I believe I informed you some time ago I would need you to make sure Aemonds betrothed is intact.”

You saw what you had expected to see, an old man dressed in bland clothing. The shelves lined with all kinds of medical devices and other things you couldn’t even guess the purpose of.

“Ah yes, I do remember. Have no worries I have been doing this for longer than you’ve been alive. I even saw your mother for a time.” The Maester went on for a little too long. You don’t think you needed to know that last part, everyone knows how that went.

You were guided to remove your lower small clothes and lay on the table, resting your head on a pillow. Alicent assured you it would only take a moment. Still, you laid there with your hands clasped together digging your nails into your skin. You began to count the pieces of stone on the ceiling to ignore whatever was happening on the other end of the table.

“All is well on this end, perfectly intact.” The Maester stood up and declared his final result. The second the words left his mouth you instantly got off the table and moved to put yourself back together.

“Fantastic news, thank you once again Maester, that’s all. Come Y/N.” Alicent states bluntly and once again begins to move without waiting. You rushed to finish putting your small clothes back on and chased to catch up.

————-

“Your chamber is fairly close to Aemonds, there should be no trouble navigating between rooms once you are wed. Two handmaidens have been assigned to you, they will wake you in the morning and make sure you’re dressed.” Alicent stood by the door while you wandered around your chambers, checking out every square inch.

“This is more than enough! I don’t even know how to thank you for your kindness, my Queen.” You walked up to Alicent with a big smile on your face. Everything was perfect, you could almost forget the hectic day you’ve had. There was even a wide balcony that looked over the gardens.

“It is just one of the many duties of being Queen. I fear I’ve kept you far too long, get some rest. I will send for you in the morning.” Alicent said before taking her leave, leaving you alone in your chambers.

You fell back first onto your bed and let out a big huff. You pray you made the right decision, who knows when or if you’ll go back to Volantis. You can’t expect to be liked instantly, being legitimized won’t change much if you don’t make the effort. You can already tell Prince Aemond and Queen Alicent aren’t too fond of your origins. Alicent is very good at hiding it which you can at least appreciate.

But, Mental crises can wait until tomorrow, you’re too tired to tackle that beast.

Simply too tired to put on any clothes to sleep in, you strip everything you are wearing and climb into bed. Rolling around in the new found comfort of such a big bed, it even had sheer curtains that made you feel even better. Sleep takes you quick, dreams of food and wine take root in your mind.

The first day of the rest of your life has come and gone.

——————

🏷️: @toodlesxcuddles @blackgirlmagicforever @yourwonkywriter

[rjthirsty]

Today's rambles brought to you by extreme thirst and a tweet of someone sobbing saying they want to see him jerk-off.

For real real.

I call this: "I Want to Watch You Masturbate" with Ikemen Prince

NSFW under the cut. MC is genderless with no mentions of anatomy. All LIs are men. Luke didn't get a part because I just don't know him well enough. Sorry Luke fans.

Sariel is surprised you suggested something so bold. He'd be up for trying, but only if you're his nude 'baiting material. He wouldn't put it so crudely. You give in before he can finish and jump on that dick. It was hot.

Jin is 100% for it. He tries to talk you into being his helper, but to didn't ask to give him a handy. You still can't help touching him, though. Of course, he also wants to nuzzle on your chest to help, and while you're sure that's just an excuse, you let him anyway so you can watch him handle himself. Jin's a good sport about it all. It was fun.

Chevalier is weak to the requests you make because you rarely make them. If you want to watch him masturabate, he'll do it, but he needs some coaxing and heavy petting with you first. Already turned on, you turn the session into a mutual masturbation session, but Chev is back on you before either of you finish yourselves. You find it just as hard to say no to him, though that's probably because he doesn't ask.

Gilbert loves the idea, but his hands are always so cold, you see. Really ruins it for him. "But you're more than welcome to have a try" if all you want to see is someone tugging on his cock. He'll even direct you. Not exactly the same thing you had in mind, but you both learned something new in the process. You can make him make all sorts of noises and faces, and he likes when you take charge.

Clavis is intrigued. He'd much rather touch you, but if you handle yourself and he can watch, he'd do the same. A man of his word, the two of you pleasure yourselves, and both end up climaxing without so much as touching each other. Round two is the both of you using all that lust you built up on each other.

Leon agrees almost too easily. He likes to be in control of the situation, and he's a tease, so it really works out in his favor. But you can't touch yourself. He purposefully draws it out and antagonizes you until you're begging to be part of it. This didn't work out how you thought it would.

Host Keith is super embarrassed that you asked. He's not sure he could do it, and it would require your coaching if you want to push him that far. He's an absolute mess of a man and once he gets into it all he can think about is fucking you instead. You won't be safe from him pouncing on you.

Alter Keith takes a very different approach. He's ready whenever you are. He tries to get you involved in some fashion, asking if you want to try touching him, or touching yourself, or maybe just settling for some teasing banter as he works you up while he works himself up. You don't get out of it without being fucked too, ain't happening.

Silvio makes a fuss but goes along with it in his tsundere way. He could do that anytime he wanted to. If you're there, it'd be better to make love to you. He asks what's in it for him, and you agree to something ambiguous that you'll surely regret later. There are many complaints, like how you're looking at him so sexily or calling you out how you're enjoying it more than he is. It probably won't be repeated, but at least you got to watch once.

Yves blushes furiously. He's not even sure how to answer. He's going to need some coaching as well. Maybe you join to get him started, but the way you make him flush and look while stroking his dick is too much power for you to relinquish. It turns into a handy, but it was so. Hot.

Licht is a little apprehensive at first. He doesn't see the point of you're there, but by promising to sit naked and on display for him, he can tell you're serious and goes for it. He craves your touch, though, so even though he's jerking himself, he's touching you in some way. I can't decide if MC would be able to hold out until the end or give into the smolder in his eyes. Licht secretly liked being denied fucking you.

Nokto says there's nothing to it, but you also have to join in. No just watching allowed. Unfortunately, it turns into the both of you pleasuring the other in a mutual handfuck. That's okay, though.

Rio isn't sure you're serious, but once he realizes you are, he says he'll give it a try. He's such a mess, though. Within minutes he's practically begging to fuck you. He won't unless you say yes, but he wants you so bad. Training this puppy is going to be difficult.

[hitoshitoshi]

Sylus & Mephisto

Wouldn't it be funny if Love and Deepspace pulled a Twisted Wonderland where Sylus made and programmed Mephisto as a way to cope with a death like how Idia did with Ortho's death?

Just imagine a tiny Sylus trying to survive the cruel world by himself, taking solace in his crow companion who stuck by him in his hardest times—only to die. Then Sylus blames himself for Mephisto's death, and tries to make up for his failure to keep Mephisto safe by making a mechanical crow in his honor.

Hmm, and how Mephisto died? Sylus not knowing anything about bird care because Mephisto died from natural causes and getting sick, but it's not like little Sylus would know that since all he's known how to do his entire life is steal and find shelter. And even if he did know what to do to cure Mephisto, it wasn't like he had the money and resources or the connections to do so.

One day Sylus enters a rundown library, and finds the word "Mephisto" on one of the pages of a book...

"1. a devil in medieval legend and later literary and operatic works, to whom Faust, or Faustus, sells his soul for knowledge and power."

Yes... yes, that was what Sylus was going to do. He was going to do anything in his power to change his circumstances. He hated life. He hated everything, and that was going to change. And from there on, Sylus vowed to know anything and everything, climbing up the ranks so he would not suffer any longer. Sylus was going to make sure that he was going to become a whole new person. Step by step, he didn't know how long it was going to take and what he was going to have to do, but he'd do it.

And the first thing Sylus does when he then runs into an abandoned warehouse one day? Makes Mephisto.

Sylus tries his hardest again and again to perfect it, to make Mephisto a carbon copy of his beloved bird. Time and time again. Burns after burns of trying to solder metal pieces and wires together.

Hours of learning how to program Mephisto to have the same squacks and the same annoying habits. And then he finally did it. He finally finished making Mephisto.

Only... it's not really Mephisto, but a shoddy and cold bionic replica. Nothing, and I mean Nothing could fill the void.

Sylus and his bird are reunited once again in a way... except no longer will Sylus be able to hold him and feel his warmth and see his tiny feathers move up and down as he breathes and flies... no longer will Sylus be able to hear any sounds Mephisto would usually make without having to program it... no longer will Sylus be able to share his food that he scrapped up with him... none of it at all will ever be the same again... and it was all Sylus' fault.

But hey, atleast it's something, right?

Sylus was going to use his loss of Mephisto as his source of ambition and motivation and to power through. To have his Mephisto by his side, a reminder of his mistake that will forever loom over him, masked as a tool to the public and masked as a tool of love to himself. A reminder of his biggest failure and his biggest regret.

Who knew that to care would leave such a bitter taste in Sylus' heart after having that ounce of happiness and relief. To relinquish that control over onself... to give that separate entity power to change you completely... for better or for worse.

A/N: Just something silly that I came up with at 3 A.M. Sylus and his most loyal companion. I like pain and suffering if you haven't already known that.

If you like otome games, including Love and Deepspace, you should join Linkon Lounge! A discord server that's LGBTQ+ friendly (only serving those who are 18+) where we all can share our interests, talk to roleplaying bots (Caleb, Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, and Sylus), and have fun game, movie, and stream nights where we stream games and/or cards that we pulled that others want to see. It would be super fun to have you as a member of our server.

Click here to join Linkon Lounge!

Masterlist

[tj-dragonblade]

[FLUFFBRUARY FICLET] Shampoo

Rated: G Word Count: 541 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, established relationship, retired Dream, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, he just doesn't speak it so plainly, scent, processing life changes

Fluffbruary 2024 Prompts Day 1 downy clinic nuance Day 2 engagement scent jam

On AO3

"Hmmmm," Hob purrs drowsily, nuzzling into the nape of Morpheus' neck, pulling Morpheus closer against him. "You smell nice."

Morpheus allows himself to be spooned into Hob's embrace beneath the blankets, nestling into the curve of Hob's body behind him, the warmth of Hob's arm around his middle. "Was my scent unpleasant before?"

"Not at all, not at all." Hob sounds languid and pleased, drunk with the lassitude of encroaching slumber and utterly content. "You used to smell amazing. Indescribable, but amazing. Clean and clear, like…like starshine and midnight frost in the middle of the forest in winter, that kinda thing."

"And now I do not." He can hear, in his own voice, the same bittersweet pang that colors nearly every thought of Before compared to Now. He is happier, of that there is no doubt; there is little to regret in having relinquished his duty and taken up a quasi-mortal existence with Hob. But that does not mean that he does not feel the loss of what he had been, that he does not feel lesser, inadequate, in small and everyday ways, in spite of his relief.

"Well, no," Hob agrees, gently, and presses soft lips to the back of his neck. "Now, you smell human. Touchable." He noses up into the downy hair at the base of Morpheus' skull and breathes in deeply. "You smell like my shampoo, and like the lotion you picked up from that little boutique last month." Hob's arm shifts closer about him, and Hob's mouth brushes the juncture of neck and shoulder, skirts the collar of the tshirt that Morpheus has donned for bed. "You smell like new clothes and comfortable old jumpers and clean sweat and just the faintest touch of rain and right now there's toothpaste in the mix too, and—mm." Hob buries his face in the back of Morpheus' shoulder, worms his other arm around Morpheus' chest and hugs him tightly, breathing deep, scenting him fully. "You smell like Morpheus, my Morpheus, and I love you."

Morpheus hums a small sound in acknowledgement, and brushes gentle fingers over Hob's upon his stomach, rests them there. It pleases him that so many of the scent elements just named by Hob are elements of Hob himself, small ways in which he might consider himself marked by Hob, marked as Hob's.

Hob, who has welcomed him into his life full-time without batting an eye, who waited for him in faith that he would return, who loves him. Hob, who treats him with more kindness than he is rightly due, who holds him while they sleep.

Hob, who thinks he smells nice.

"G'night love," Hob says then, pressing one more kiss to the base of his neck, and Morpheus settles. In only a moment Hob's breath has evened out, slow and deep; Morpheus listens, matches himself to it, lets sleep rise up to claim him safe in the circle of Hob's arms and the cradle of Hob's body.

His last thought as he slips into his old realm, a visitor, is that whatever trepidation he may continue to feel at this change, whatever he may count as lost, that which he has gained in Hob is entirely more precious, and entirely worth it.

= Started: 2/1/24 Drafted: 2/2/24 Posted: 2/2/24

[saltedsalads]

without regret or relinquishment was my first long story and while i am proud of it im also.. not? idk, i def couldve done a lot better but its okay :D

[glimmervoi]

A SEALED FATE: EMERALDS AND BLOOD - XIII Unwavering Love

masterlist

e&b masterlist

notes: hand slipped. sorry.

Taehyung could thrust his polished obsidian dagger into Rae’s heart as many times as he wished, but the pain would always pale in comparison to what she felt upon realizing that Alice had betrayed her.

The woman Rae had loved for years—the one with whom she had shared her bed and her deepest secrets—had turned against her. The betrayal was not a mistake but a calculated act. She was fully aware of the consequences.

Rae could hardly comprehend how she had missed the signs. Had her love for Alice blinded her? Alice had been a Queen’s maid all along, concealed behind the guise of a service maid. Now, in order to receive her veil, Alice had sentenced Rae to death.

Despite the overwhelming anger, sadness, and confusion, Rae did not regret aiding your escape. She had cared for you, seen you as a younger sister. She could not bear to witness yet another young woman suffer within the castle’s walls.

You still had a chance to escape the clutches of the psychotic Princes and the castle. The other maids had witnessed Rae being dragged away; surely, they would inform Joseph, who could then relay the message to you… wouldn’t they?

But what if all the other maids were with the Queen too? What did the Queen even want with you? Why had Alice betrayed Rae on the Queen's behalf? The confusion was overwhelming. 

Rae blinked slowly, her breathing growing slower as she tuned out Taehyung’s taunts and the cruel slicing of her skin. His brothers, standing behind him with grim expressions, watched in silence.

Her wrists, bound to the old wooden chair in the center of the cell, had long gone numb, as had her legs. In fact, she had lost sensation in her entire body, save for the tumult of emotions swirling in her mind after Namjoon revealed Alice’s betrayal.

Taehyung yanked her head up roughly, baring his teeth as he spoke, but Rae could only stare blankly at him. She was acutely aware of her dwindling blood supply. The pain from the knives, saws, and leather straps had faded, leaving her only with thoughts of the last, tender kiss she had shared with Alice.

Alice.

Alice…

Was that Alice?

Alice stood by Namjoon’s side, clad in the pristine white uniform of a Queen’s maid. Her veil, however, did not conceal her face. Was she real? Rae’s gaze remained locked on her, her expression inscrutable. Taehyung’s voice rose in a fresh tirade, but Rae’s focus was unwavering.

It was her. It was truly Alice. Why was she here? Was she here to apologize? To rescue her? Could she put an end to this torment?

No. Her attire was too pure, too immaculate. If she moved closer, the hem of her dress would surely be stained.

Rae blinked slowly, the pain of betrayal weighing heavily on her heart. Despite everything, she still loved Alice… so deeply. The harsh men before her might believe in soulmates, but Rae knew the truth: Alice was her true soulmate. These men thought that they knew what true love was. She did know. She had loved Alice with every ounce of her being. She would have killed for her. She would die for her. 

And now, she was dying for her.

Rae exhaled deeply as Namjoon spoke to Taehyung. The merciless Prince relinquished his grip on her hair and adjusted the dagger in his hand, positioning the tip of the blade directly over her heart. Even without comprehending the exchange of words, Rae understood that her fate was sealed.

She locked her gaze onto Alice as she finally draped the white veil over her face. Then, with a deliberate thrust, Taehyung drove the dagger through Rae's heart.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Come on! They’re playing my favorite song!” Alice called out, tugging at Rae’s wrist and guiding her towards the lively music emanating from the tavern on the city's edge. Rae laughed, letting the charming brunette lead the way.

For the first time in ages, Rae felt her heart lift. The oppressive confines of the castle had weighed heavily on her. Sanria had finally granted permission for her and a few other maids to venture into the city for a night, allowing them to spend their meager wages and enjoy a drink.

Naturally, Rae and Alice had separated from the rest of the group. Their bond had deepened recently, a development Rae hadn’t anticipated but welcomed. Although Alice had been reserved when Rae first joined the castle staff, no one could resist Rae's cheerful demeanor. It hadn’t taken long for Alice to warm up to her.

In Erydia, loving another woman was rare. Rae knew that Alice would likely seek a husband when the time came, but that did not diminish Rae's growing affection. She envisioned a future with Alice, perhaps in Esteria. When their contracts concluded, Alice would bring Rae to meet her family.

They would feast on Esterian specialties and fall asleep to the soothing sound of the waves. Their wedding would be by the sea, with their feet in the cool water, just as Alice’s parents had celebrated years before. Rae would present Alice with a pearl necklace, and they would share a tender kiss as their family and new friends showered them with crystal lily petals.

Rae’s cheeks flushed, and she shook her head, just as Alice glanced back at her. Alice stopped abruptly, causing Rae to nearly bump into her. “Are you alright?” Alice asked with a smile, her hand still holding Rae’s wrist.

“Yes, sorry,” Rae replied, laughing softly as she smoothed her brown dress. “I was just thinking about something a bit embarrassing from a few days ago.” She offered Alice a small, reassuring smile.

Alice laughed softly. “Don’t dwell on it too much,” she advised, nodding towards the open tavern door now visible. Warm light spilled out onto the cobblestone path, and Rae glimpsed people dancing and drinking through the doorway.

“Let’s just enjoy this night together, you and me. Alright?” Alice said, gently pulling Rae towards the entrance. Rae’s heart soared as she nodded and followed.

Even if Rae could never fully have Alice, she would always cherish being by her side. Her love was unwavering, even if Alice’s feelings were not reciprocated. She would never stop loving her, even if it killed her.

[ackerifle]

Yandere Levi finding out reader is pregnant by another man

a word with you!

yan. no regrets levi ackerman x fem prostitute. reader

+ CW. — harassment, coercion, delusional behavior, kidnapping, confessions of murder, threats of domestic violence/abuse, implied: slight past age-gap relationship, baby-trapping; darling’s pseudonym is galatea; not proof-read.

it was simply too good to be true, you had known it then, and you know it now. but wishful thinking and desperation will do terrible things to good people, no soul would willingly continue living in the underground should they find themselves with any better alternative. at a constant risk of disease and decay, mother nature’s evident distaste for her children dwelling beneath the surface, careless to the living that remained untouched by the sun. abandoned by its creators in favor of more ‘pressing matters,’ the people left relinquished in a forgotten city of ruins had fallen on hard times, people like yourself.

and thus, you had found yourself in quite the predicament. although nothing in your life had ever come particularly easy, and this once, just this once, you could manage all on your own. there was no shame in working in a brothel, not when the people around you were often worse off than yourself, and pride was a small price to pay for simply surviving. it was only once you had first bared witness to the frequent deaths of the other prostitutes had you ever come to the realization that the madam must have really favored you a lot— to clean you, to clothe you, to feed you, to care for you; to keep you. but the state of affairs in the underground have since changed from the time of your youth, you’ve changed. you wanted out, and you were not immune to making grave sacrifices for what you wanted.

you’ve encountered and met many clients in your time, men and women alike, and it is rare for new faces to draw your attention. but as of late, there has been one. a soldier from the surface, a military police member who seemed far too young to be venturing below the safety and security of the royal capital by himself, and far too naïve to be falling absolutely head over heels for some prostitute who only offers an hour and faux moans in return. it almost tugs at your heartstrings, almost. he isn’t as innocent as he looks, and you are reminded why terrible things happen to good people. he had held citizenship over your head since the moment he met you, through legal marriage, and one simple request: that you give him a child. after all, who was a man of his merit to invest such a scrupulous amount of time into a common whore without the reassurance she won’t leave him right away?

so you do, allowing him to touch and hold you in a way your other clients could only dream of. to whisper sweet nothings in your ear about your future together, because admittedly, you too are thinking the same thing. thinking about your future, but you find that there is nothing romantic about it. and perhaps the worst of it all, he hasn’t come back for you.

laying down on your tarnished bed of tattered sheets and thin blankets, you stare aimlessly at the darkened ceiling. without thought and without interest, it has been weeks, maybe months, and you think you’ve truly fallen ill, “dammit, i knew i shouldn't've let that prestigious prick back in here.” forever grateful and beholden to the brothel keeper, she continues to tend to your needs, even now.

“look at you. so sad, little girl.” the madam coos apathetically, but her actions say otherwise. a gentle hand checks your temperature, brushing aside any loose strands of hair with the swipe of her thumb. her frown only deepens when she just barely pushes your head back, met with complete compliance as your head tilts further into the pillow from even the slightest of movements. somehow, you’re still so tired and still so restless, “i’m sorry.”

she’s upset with you. she’s been upset with you ever since you’d been involved with that shady scumbag, but truthfully the madam is more upset with herself. and she wants to ask why you of all people are apologizing, but she doesn’t, “i’m sorry too.” there is more she yearns to say, her mouth is still open, as if to somehow keep you responsive in this one-sided conversation, but nothing comes out. and it’s too late when there are three loud and concise knocks banging on the door downstairs.

the madam is quick to pry a worried hand from your unresponsive body, storming towards the exit of the oppressive room, but not without taking a curious glance in your direction. her remorse does not last long, as she shuts the door with a shove, but is intentional in not forcing it too hard. and you are left alone. swallowing dryly, your eyes dart around the room, and you wonder just how intense that person must have been hounding at the door for both you and the madam to hear it from a story above. but that was no matter, it was already noisy in the brothel, the walls were thin because peace and quiet was no luxury anyone living there could afford; and who knows how many women you shared the small space with. and surprisingly, it benefitted you greatly to be sick, as the madam refused to work you; and you’d known girls who worked during pregnancy, it never did end well for them.

deafening commotion could be heard ringing throughout the brothel, to the point it had felt as if the walls were shaking and the building was caving in. you chalked it up to hysterical figments of your imagination, that the floorboards beneath your bed weren’t vibrating, and that the sound of a panicked woman and determined man arguing with one another weren’t getting closer, “sir! galatea isn’t well, she’s not seeing anyone right now!”

“i don’t give a shit, lady. i know name is still here, she hasn’t left this fucking whorehouse in a month.” it pains you that you recognize this voice, and it isn’t the one you want to hear.

brazenly, the door is reopened with much more ferocity and wrath than it had initially been closed with, and it startles you. despite anticipating a confrontation as the verbal fight had neared your room, it comes as a surprise when the door nearly breaks free from its hinges, revealing an all too familiar black haired man. he looks awful in the dour lighting, and he adorned a uniform that haunted your very soul. a lesser version of what the military police had dressed in, lacking the coat with their respective symbol, it was the odm gear that struck you odd. eyes averting, you had noticed madam — who was standing behind him, with a languid arm extended towards his figure as if to grab him — was somehow much worse for wear as she had a dramatic hand over her heart as she caught her breath.

you regret not locking the door, but then again, that has never stopped levi from doing what he wants. he calls to you only by your name, and your spine crawls. whipping his head around, the hand levi had placed over the hilt of one of the unsheathed blades draws it from the holder, and he wastes no time in threatening the madam. it only takes the sight of the sharpened edge looming dangerously close to her neck for you to yell at her to get out. she hesitates, and you know why, the madam has failed to protect you countless times from levi, but this will be the time it counts, and she knows it too. but the downright malicious glare levi sends her way has her halted in her steps, and she makes no effort to stop levi as he enters the room and places a deceivingly quiet palm flat on the door, all whilst maintaining eye contact with her, before he slams the door behind him.

you set your hand on the bed, forcing yourself to sit up as levi stomps his way over to you. and the closer he gets, the more uncharacteristically messy you realize his clothes are. the white shirt he so often wears is not clean, it’s rather dirty in all honesty, sullied with what appears to be sidestreet grime and dross filth. his boots are muddy, dragging in sludge and black water that hadn’t already been scraped off at the doorstep and staircase. but perhaps what was the most disturbing were the stains of blood on his gear, ranging from inconspicuous flecks to big streaks that were likely still wet. levi must’ve noticed your perturbed observation, because when he finally finds himself standing before you, he bends down and grabs your jaw in his hand, roughly squeezing your face, and leaning down until your noses are just barely touching.

“i leave you alone for a month, and you let some piece of shit from the mp’s knock you up?” it’s his eyes that are the scariest, more than his strength, and you crumble underneath his scrutinizing gaze. your retaliation is much more timid than you intend it to be, as if you were guilty and confessing your sins. sins of disloyalty to a man you aren’t even with in the first place, “you can’t expect me to want to stay here, i saw a way out, and i was going to take it.”

it doesn’t cross your mind to question how he knows all of this. you’ve simply accepted it as fact that you will never experience true privacy after meeting levi. in retrospect, it’s ludicrous that you’re even explaining yourself to him, but you are and it’s not helping your case, “and how did that work out for you?” levi spits venomously, violently shaking your head side to side in his grasp until your eyes were rattling in your skull. levi only lets go to prop his foot up onto the side of the bed.

instinctively, you lean away from his knee, which is almost parallel to your head, setting your hand on his calf in an attempt to direct his body away from yours. levi places the blade he had refused to release from his grip back into the metal box it belonged in, dropping his leg to the ground and hoisting you up by your shoulders, “groveling at the feet of those pigs, you’ve become real pathetic, haven’t you?” you want to defend yourself, to call him a hypocrite, to call him pathetic for harassing someone like you that was undeserving of his badgering.

“how did you even know he was a soldier?” deflecting the topic from yourself to your genuine concerns, you go limp in his arms as levi twirls you around the room until he’s satisfied with your placement. positioning you in front of the windows, leaning slightly on the stool as he pushed you backwards until you could feel the cold glass frame through your nightgown. levi slovenly flicks the sash lock, holding onto the lift and pushing the window up, “where do you think i got all of this from?” you didn’t need any clarification to know that levi was referring to his equipment.

your chest tightens, constricting your airway as you stop breathing altogether to attain perfect stillness. you only look at him with vacant eyes, and it becomes too much when he doesn’t elaborate any further, “what did you do, levi?” he sticks his head through the window, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the top rail, and peering down at the ‘city,’ below. it isn’t as if he needed to, there wasn’t anyone on the streets. when levi pulls himself back into the room, he slings an arm around your hips to bring you closer, “what do you think i did? the man’s dead, do i have to spell it out for you?”

the prickling sensation underneath your skin erupts in waves across your entire body. you were no stranger to the realities of what went on around you, the hushed rumors of what men and women who had the will to do what they wanted to others simply because they were capable, and not out of survival necessity, “you’re sick, what is wrong with you?”

“call it what you want, but he has nothing for you. you want to leave the underground? hmph, well don’t we all?” levi mocks contemptuously, tightening his hold when he feels you threaten to slip away in the slightest. he moves you around like a rag doll by the sides of your body, until you're in front of him. levi closes the little space that was left between you, until you’re forced to grab onto him for support, seeing that straining your wrists to secure yourself by the windowsill was becoming too painful, “we can go wherever you want, but you won’t be going anywhere without me.”

suddenly, levi veers down. his body collapsing onto yours until you’re nearly halfway out of the window, and he, looming over you, “oh my god, what is wrong with you?!” you repeat, blood rushing to your head as you try to prevent your upper half from being upside down and being taken by gravity completely. levi guides your arms around his neck, loosely as you refuse to acknowledge you’re even embracing him in the first place, but your fear of falling surpasses your personal grudges. and in one swift motion, levi thrusts the rest of your body out of the window, and he follow suits mere seconds afterward. and you scream, as loud as humanly possible.

levi’s body never leaves yours, and you’re uncertain as to whether it’s because you won’t allow it, or because he won’t allow it. either way, the detach hold you had on his neck fastened into a tight chokehold the moment you had felt yourself even remotely lean back any further. the landing is much smoother than you anticipated, levi doesn’t let you touch the ground before he does. and if you hadn’t shut your eyes, or buried your face into the crook of his neck, you may have gotten to witness the vertical maneuvering equipment in action; what used to be a dream for you, to leave with it, but you could kiss those fantasies goodbye now that they found themselves in the hands of levi. and he’s cautious, all too cautious with you.

you’re trembling like a leaf, and he thinks that if he lets go of you, you’ll fall to the ground, “don’t think you haven’t pissed me off, now. there’s a million things i ought to do to you after getting with that sorry excuse of a man.” levi rests a warning hand on your shoulder, loutishly hauling you towards him until you just about trip over your feet. he makes sure you’re aware of the desolate area that surrounds you two; and it becomes increasingly obvious that no one would come to intervene. if not by your shrieking, then never. levi tilts his head with an unimpressed frown, “you’re lucky you’re pregnant with our kid, because i won’t even be half as merciful once they’re born.”

[muridae3]

Francis Forever | Harvey x Reader

Harvey reflects on his mistakes when it comes to the farmer.

Based on the song Francis Forever by Mitski

I don’t know what to do without you

Harvey laid awake in bed, unable to sleep but unsure what to do with himself.

I don’t know where to put my hands

He felt so small and alone.

I’ve been trying to lay my head down

Sleep had evaded him since that night.

But I’m writing this at three AM

He looked over at his alarm clock, cringing at the blinking numbers— 3:00 AM. 

He already knew that he would be miserable at work.

But, his patients were important to him, and he resolved to be the best doctor he could, even if that meant starting his day at three in the morning.

I don’t need the world to see that I’ve been the best I can be

After taking a long shower and putting on a fresh set of clothes, Harvey felt much more like himself. He knew he would probably look more disheveled than usual, but he found himself not caring what his clients thought of him. Even though it was only five in the morning, he decided to tackle some paperwork that had been sitting in a forgotten pile at the front desk. 

But I don't think I could stand to be

Harvey worked until the sun came up, satisfied at the slow but steady depletion of papers from the stack. After grabbing a cup of coffee, undoubtedly the first of many to come, he sat back at the front desk, ready and able to help anyone that needed it. 

Where you don't see me

The front door to the clinic opened, and Harvey jumped, half expecting and half fearing the farmer’s presence. But that was a silly thought, wasn’t it? After all, the farmer probably never wanted to see him again after the stunt he pulled.

It was just Maru, arriving for her shift. Harvey relinquished the front desk chair to her before heading back to his office, busying himself with more paperwork and distracting himself from the crushing weight of his thoughts. All too soon, the clock struck noon, and Harvey decided to step out. The fresh air would be good for him. 

On sunny days I go out walking

After picking up some food from the saloon, Harvey sat in the small grassy area next to the town square as he always did. The food was delicious, as always, but after he was finished eating, he didn’t necessarily feel like going back to the clinic. He decided to stretch his legs with a short walk.

I end up on a tree-lined street

Harvey wasn’t quite sure how he ended up at the bus stop. It was peaceful—the trees and flowers looked especially pretty in the fall. 

I look up at the gaps of sunlight

Harvey turned his face towards the sun, trying to avoid looking at the road leading to the farm. Maybe it would improve his mood– after all, sunlight does help the body produce serotonin. 

I miss you more than anything

As he felt the warmth on his face, he heard the sounds of nature and subconsciously thought about what the farmer might be doing. He tried to push them from his mind, but they kept coming back– their smile, their laugh, and their little gifts to him filling his mind’s eye.

I don’t need the world to see that I’ve been the best I can be

Thinking of them reminded him of his own regret. He had been so afraid of what others might think—of the gossip that might spread through town—that he had pushed them away. It was a mistake, an incredibly stupid mistake, fueled by his own self-loathing. 

But I don't think I could stand to be

He opened his eyes, looking down the path leading to the farm.

Where you don’t see me

He took a shaky breath and started towards the farm, trying to organize what he would say in his mind. He owed them an explanation, at the very least. 

And autumn comes and you’re not yet done with the summer passing by

He had spent almost the entire summer with the farmer, and he didn’t care then what the townspeople would have to say. So why was it, then, that he cared so much about what others thought now? He had held feelings for the farmer for weeks now, and he had thrown them away when they were returned, like an absolute idiot. He had tainted those beautiful summer memories with his own self loathing.

But I don't think I could stand to be

He stopped in front of the farmhouse. Even if they never wanted to see him again, he knew he’d sleep better after telling them how he truly felt.

Where you don’t see me

He knocked on the door, swallowing his rising anxiety.

“Harvey? What are you doing here?” The farmer’s voice was laced with confusion. “You don’t look well. Are you okay?”

“I had to see you,” Harvey said quickly, suddenly wishing he had tidied up before coming. “I needed to— I— just—”

“Come inside,” the farmer urged, guiding him to the kitchen table. “What’s wrong? You’re pale as a ghost.”

Harvey’s gaze drifted to the bouquet on the kitchen counter—the one meant for him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

“I came to say… I’m sorry,” he finally managed, unable to meet their eyes. “I’m so sorry.” He blinked back tears that threatened to spill over.

“Harvey…” The farmer sighed softly. “It’s not your fault. You don’t have to return my feelings just because I have them. I should have understood your signals better. This is on me.”

“It’s not that,” Harvey said, his voice trembling. “It’s not that at all. It’s my fault. I was afraid... afraid of what people might think. This amazing new farmer moves to town, and they choose Doctor Harvey, of all people? How lame is that? It could ruin your reputation. That’s what scared me.”

“Harvey… I don’t care about that, and you know it. If people judge me for being with you, so be it.”

He looked at them, startled by their certainty. “You… you really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” they replied, a small smile spreading across their face. “I think you’re pretty cool, even if no one else does.”

“...even though my only hobbies are airplanes and aerobics?”

“Even though your only hobbies are airplanes and aerobics,” they said, their smile widening. “And, for the record, I don’t think those hobbies are lame at all.” They reached for the bouquet on the counter and held it out to him. “I like you just the way you are, Doctor Harvey, and I would be honored if you’d be my boyfriend.”

Harvey blinked, taken aback. “You… you really mean that?”

“If you’ll have me.” they said, a blush coloring their cheeks.

Harvey took the bouquet, then pulled the farmer into his arms, hoping he could be everything they deserved.

[haggishlyhagging]

Several years ago, I taught an upper-level extension course in a suburban high school. The students were mostly high school teachers, required by their school district to earn periodic graduate credit as a condition of continuing employment. None of the students was very young: Most were in their forties and fifties. Women outnumbered men by about two to one. The women, who tended on the average to be somewhat better students than the men, displayed far less confidence in their ability to master the material. I found this surprising, since the female teachers, authorities in their own classrooms, did the same work as the male teachers, had comparable seniority, similar educational credentials, and, I assume, pay equity. The school in which both men and women taught had an excellent reputation. There is nothing unique about the classroom I am about to describe: I have observed in other classrooms what I observed there. I select this particular class as an example because male and female students were mature and well-matched professionally and because their relationships seemed to be free of the sexual tensions and courtship games that sometimes complicate the relationships of younger men and women.

Though women were in the majority, they were noticeably quieter in class discussion than the men. The men engaged freely in classroom exchanges and seemed quite confident—in view of the quality of some of their remarks, over-confident. Women who did enter discussion spoke what linguists call "women's language": Their speech was marked by hesitations and false starts; they tended to introduce their comments with self-denigrating expressions (“You may think that this is a stupid question, but . . . “); they often used a questioning intonation which in effect turned a simple declarative sentence into a request for help or for affirmation from without; they used "lag" questions which had the same effect (“Camus's theme in The Myth of Sisyphus is the absurdity of human existence, isn't it?”) and excessive qualifiers (“Isn't it true that sometimes, maybe . . . “). This style of speaking, whatever its substance, communicates to listeners the speaker's lack of confidence in what she is saying, and this in turn damages her credibility.

In addition to their style of speech, I was struck by the way many female students behaved as they handed me their papers. They would offer heartfelt apologies and copious expressions of regret for the poor quality of their work—work which turned out, most of the time, to be quite good. While apologizing, a student would often press the edges of her manuscript together so as to make it literally smaller, holding the paper uncertainly somewhere in the air as if unsure whether she wanted to relinquish it at all. Typically, she would deliver the apology with head bowed, chest hollowed, and shoulders hunched slightly forward. The male students would stride over to the desk and put down their papers without comment.

Now every female student did not behave in this way all of the time. Nor is this all that the women communicated. To the casual observer, the atmosphere in the classroom was both relaxed and stimulating: Both men and women took an evident interest in the material and managed a lively exchange of ideas. But, like an organ-point that sounded faintly but persistently all term, something else was detectable too: It became clear to me that many women students were ashamed of their written work and ashamed to express their ideas in a straightforward and open manner. Indeed, it would not be unusual for a student just to say, "I'm really ashamed of this paper," while handing it to me. I have no doubt that these utterances were accurate reports of feeling. At the same time, I suspect that they were rituals of self-shaming undertaken in order to bear more easily a shaming they anticipated from me: An ordeal is often easier to endure if we can choose its time and place. These apologies served also to underscore the students' desire to do well in the course, hence, to get into my good books and, by arousing pity in me for such evident emotional distress, to soften my judgment of their work. Behind a facade of friendliness and informality, two very different dramas of relationship to the teacher were being enacted: The men regarded me as a rival or as an upstart who needed to prove herself; the women, as potentially a very punitive figure who needed to be placated and manipulated.

-Sandra Lee Bartky, Femininity and Domination: Studies in the Phenomenology of Oppression

[angelasscribbles]

All That She Wants Chapter 11: New Love

Series: All That She Wants

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Word Count: 1,145

Rating: M

Warnings for this chapter: none

A/N: Welp, this is it, the final chapter! Thanks for taking this unexpected and crazy ride with me! There will be an epilogue.

My other stuff: Master List.

Liam spun her around the dance floor like he’d done a thousand times before. From the outside looking in, they were the perfect couple. She was Cinderella, a commoner whisked away by a handsome prince.

The truth was less glamorous.

Being queen wasn’t an easy gig. While Liam was head of state, Riley still sat on countless committees, showed up to charm diplomatic guests, had to always present her absolute best to the press and the public, attended a myriad of ribbon cuttings, and charity events, and had been a keynote speaker more times than she cared to remember.

Juggling all that with being a mother was difficult on the best days. While they used nannies for childcare, Riley refused to outsource the raising of her children to others. She and Liam were as hands on as possible. Innumerable bedtime stories had been read by her still in formal ballgowns, her shoes kicked off onto the nursery floor, getting those nighttime snuggles in between dances.

She did all of this while looking her best and keeping a smile plastered on her face. All while doing a million little things to make her husband feel appreciated.

She had earned her place by his side, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to relinquish it so easily.

Her children would be better off with both parents present and actively involved. Cordonia would be better off without the instability a royal divorce might present. Liam would be better off with his shining image untarnished.

But what would be best for her?

It’s all she had been able to think about for the past four days.

Olivia had returned to Lythikos. As far as Riley could tell, Liam hadn’t been in contact with her. Drake had continued his full court press attempt to woo her.

Liam had reverted to the attentive husband she remembered from the early years of their marriage.

But could she trust it?

After the dance ended, they returned to their table on a raised dais at the front of the ballroom. Waiters scurried around pouring her champagne and bringing her dessert.

Being queen wasn’t all work.

Being Liam’s wife had its perks. And though she very much enjoyed the privileges provided by wealth, her pride in her marriage had always been about the man himself and the family they had built. And they had built an amazing one. She could not have asked for two better children than the ones she had.

As the gala wound down, she leaned across the table to whisper in her husband’s ear. “I have an answer for you. Are you coming back to our rooms, or do you have any late meetings?”

He looked at her with hope and trepidation. “I’m coming. I’ll walk you back.”

“Okay.” Her gaze swung away from the man at her side and swept the room for another. She found him in the back, near the bar. Their eyes locked. She gave him a slight smile before returning her attention to her mother-in-law, who was prattling on about an upcoming luncheon they were both slated to attend.

Thirty minutes later, the king and queen were alone in their suite. Liam sat next to his wife on the edge of their bed, anxiety pinging through him. “What have you decided?”

“I’ve decided that I want us to stay married.”

“Oh, thank God!” that smile that used to light up her world washed across his face as he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Riley, you have no idea how happy this makes me! Thank you for giving me another chance! We’ll get rid of the Cordonian Arrangement! You won’t regret this!”

She pulled her hand out of his. “We’ll stay married for the children and for Cordonia. We will continue to present a united front in public but I’m moving into my own suite of rooms across the hall.”

Liam felt like he’d been struck. “What?”

“We will not get rid of the Cordonian Arrangement. If you want Olivia, you can have her. I won’t stand in your way. But you are not changing the rules now that they benefit me as well.”

He felt a little nauseous, but he also felt overwhelming relief that his public image would stay intact, the monarchy would remain strong, and his children would not have to divide their time between parents.

He couldn’t blame her for moving out of their rooms, and he couldn’t begrudge her taking a lover of her own.

He didn’t like it, but he realized he had no leg to stand on. This entire situation he found himself in was his own doing.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You think Drake will agree to continue a relationship with you while you’re married to me?”

Riley couldn’t help the smile that danced across her face at the mention of her lover’s name. “Already has.”

“So, you understand my reasons, and you’re good with moving forward even though I’ll still be married to Liam?”

Drake looked down at the woman tucked under his arm, her hair wild and messy from their lovemaking. “Are you kidding me? What part of ‘I want to be with you no matter what that looks like’ didn’t you understand?”

“Just making sure.” She cuddled closer, relaxing into his warmth and the security of his love.

It was an amazing feeling.

“Right.” Liam didn’t know what else to say. A sobering thought occurred to him. “But a pregnancy will out us. I cannot overrule a provision that was passed unanimously by the council.”

“Oh, that.” She smiled again, a genuine, from the heart grin that he hadn’t seen in a long time. “I’ve decided to put that idea on hold.”

“Why?” He asked in confusion. Her desire for a baby was what had started this whole thing.

“Well, the more I thought about it, the more I realized how unfair it would be to the child to be brought into the world just because I was lonely. It’s not a child’s place to fix their parent’s issues. Besides that, I’m not really that lonely anymore!”

Her smile and exuberance made his heart clench a little as the full impact of his actions crashed into him.

She used to smile like that for him, at him, because of him. Now another man put that smile on her face and he would have to live with it.

He watched as she threw a few things into a bag. “You don’t have to go right now. Wouldn’t it be easier to move in the morning?”

“Oh, yeah…no. I have… plans tonight.”

He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. He opened them again when she called his name. “What?”

“I’m sorry if this hurts you, but now you know how I felt for the last two years.”

And with that, she was gone.

Epilogue

[cassieuncaged]

All That Matters (Wyll Ravengard + Female Reader)

BG3 Reader Insert

Summary: You impatiently await the arrival of your betrothed the eve before a masquerade ball.

Warnings: None :)

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: A gift for @chadillacboseman. The Wyll lovers out there need to be fed too :) Please enjoy this offering of fluff!

p.s: i'm dabbling in reader inserts again. Do with this what you will...

“Have you heard from Wyll?” Ulder’s gaze doesn’t meet your own as he carves into a thick slice of glazed ham. While the Grand Duke has been kind enough to allow you to stay at the Ravengard Estate while your beloved is away, he remains painfully stoic. You oft try to melt his icy demeanor to no avail.

“I received a letter yesterday!” You add cheerily, swallowing another mouthful of such a lavish breakfast. Years of dwelling in the pits of Rivington has made your new life of luxury all the more rewarding. The man’s brows rise steadily, lips an unmoving line. “I was surprised you didn’t know; the foyer stunk of the cinders from Avernus itself.”

“I had my suspicions,” he hums, a smile ghosting across hard features. “Though yesterday was rather hectic for me.”

You nod, actually thrilled you can understand his plight. Rebuilding the city was no small feat. Any leader would be rightfully overwhelmed. You joined the many citizens in removing the wreckage the Elder Brain wrought across the city. It was the least you could do. Not to mention that you were the most active of the three heroes that remained in Baldur’s Gate. Shadowheart was busy attending to the many refugees with Aylin and Isobel while Astarion preferred watching you work instead of chancing a splintered fingernail.

“Understood,” you say with a full mouth, forcing honeyed ham and fresh berries down your gullet. As a child who begged for scraps on the streets, you ate as though the feasts consistently served would vanish if you didn’t immediately gorge yourself. The Grand Duke found your lack of manners primitive. “The Blade of Frontiers and the Fury of Avernus are to arrive home on the morrow.”

There was a long pause as you continued to gobble down salted meat and foraged fruit, wiping sticky fingers on the simple peasant skirt you insisted on wearing. Afterall, this grandiose lifestyle felt so foreign. You never wanted to completely relinquish your personality and had insisted on securing a simple wardrobe from clothiers across the city.

Ulder studies you silently, fingers steepled as his dark eyes follow every manic move you make. He knew your nerves were jumping ferociously, long awaiting the return of your betrothed. You still wore the woven acorn ring on one finger, refusing the finery of plated gold.

“You’ve missed him.” It isn’t a question, merely an observation. You nod vigorously, thinking about how painfully empty your chambers are when you settle in for the evening. The memory of being curled in the warmth of his tent invades your mind, a muscular arm wrapped around your middle protectively. “I have too.”

There’s a passing thought of Ulder’s years without Wyll, likely stewing in the regret of banishing his only child. Surely he had his reasons, even if you’ll never understand them. The Grand Duke’s gaze is wistful, staring through you.

“He’ll enjoy the masquerade,” you say suddenly, breaking the man’s concentration. This time a stern expression softens into a grin, followed by a nod encouraging you to proceed. “He taught me courtly dance, when we were in the wilds.”

“Rather different than the lavish ballroom at High Hall,” he chuckles before growing serious once more, pushing a fancifully etched plate aside. “Though we’re lucky the Sashenstar’s have volunteered to host the ball; it will be a long while until most of the halls and citadels in the city are rebuilt.”

“Even in ruins, it’s all more luxurious than I’ve ever known.” You remember the days of grovelling for coin, sleeping on the cobblestones of narrow alleyways to hide from the Rivington Rats that enjoyed terrorizing you for sport.

“I often forget the life you led before the rise of The Absolute.” he hums as he thinks, rubbing his chin. “See Leticia in The Lower City. She’s a dressmaker that prepares garments for practically the entirety of Manorborn. Get anything you’d like and have her forward all charges to me.”

“Really?” Your eyes widen to the size of planets, shocked by the Grand Duke’s generosity. Providing you a simple wardrobe was an act of kindness. But offering a custom gown from one of the most popular clothier’s in the city? That was astonishing. “I’ve heard she uses only the most exotic and luxirous fabrics that Faerûn can provide.”

“Indeed.” A proud smile lightens his face; it’s becoming obvious that The Sword Coast’s leader admires you greatly. “I’d like you to experience all of the finery the nobility of this city can offer you. It’s the least I can provide for the city’s savior. For my savior.”

“Thank you, sir.” You consider scrambling to your feet to curtsey before pushing the thought away.

“Call me Ulder, my dear.” He chuckles, a deep rumble ruminating from his chest. His timbre is comforting, almost fatherly. “You’ve earned it.”

“I thought you didn’t like me,” you admit bashfully, shoveling a spoonful of berries off of your plate. It’s must better than the fish head and potato stew the seven of you had once shared the morning after a particularly brutal battle.

“I must admit,” he sighs, smoothing the lapels of his doublet. “I was wary. But I’m in a position where I need to be. A street urchin and former member of The Guild Hall was the last person I thought I’d be inviting to stay at my grand estate, to be promised to my only child.”

The words stung in your ears, painful as you stared at the normally brusque man. His demeanor had softened, venom no longer lingering in his voice like when he saw Wyll’s bedeviled form. No, this was a man seeking to repent his misgivings.

“You have proved yourself a valiant defender of this city, even when it has been so unkind in the past. There are many who would’ve abandoned me in my position, to let me drown with a plethora of innocents at the command of a tyrant. But whatever prejudices you may have of nobility were swallowed as you came to the aid of those who needed you. For that, I’ll be eternally grateful.”

“And I’ll be endlessly indebted to you for such generosity.” It feels strange to accept so much from such a powerful man. But when his lips finally stretch into a pleased smile, you know you can believe his every word.

“You’ll never be indebted.” He pulled his plate close again, fork spearing another slice of ham. “Afterall, you’re practically family now.”

……

Leticia’s boutique is inviting and warm, filled with polished antique furniture while beautifully woven rugs cover the slatted floor. A bell chimes as Astarion enters the shop after you.

“I could’ve gone alone, you know.” You remind the elf who hungrily eyes the endless bolts of expensive fabrics.

“True.” He considers this for a moment, “Though I think it’s only fair you bring your most fashionable confidant with you for such an outing. Afterall, your current wardrobe leaves quite a bit to be desired.”

You want to argue but know the haughty vampire is being surprisingly truthful. Astarion is rather educated considering clothing fads. Even the cloak he wears to ward off the sun is decadently embroidered velvet. Your simple clothing consists of a plain cotton blouse and scuffed leather boots. But clothing in itself has always been a luxury, no matter how homely the garment.

“Hullo!” A gnome appears from a curtained doorway, long face punctuated by pink cheeks and golden curls. She looks more like a jovial mother ready to bake a treacle tart than the city’s most sought after couturier. “What an honor to serve two heroes of the Gate!”

Your ears burn while Astarion excitedly preens at the unexpected praise.

“Th-thank you,” Never in a millenia would you even entertain the thought of stepping into such a beautiful and undoubtedly expensive shop, “I believe Duke Ravengard spoke to you on my behalf.”

“Mine as well,” Astarion chimes in with that roguish charm, ready to take advantage of Ulder’s kindness.

“He only mentioned the one.” Leticia winks knowingly but doesn’t seem to mind the ruse, “But I’d be happy to offer my services to you both. Free of charge. It’s the least I can do. My livelihood still stands because of you..”

“Are you sure?” You cock your head, earning a jab to the ribs from your companion.

“But of course!” The woman sashays further into the parlor, perusing her own inventory. “Dressing the city’s saviors for the masquerade is an absolute honor. Besides, I’ve already made a bundle for this event. Anymore, and I’d feel like a miserly dragon hoarding my fortune.”

“Yes. Let’s not question Leticia’s generosity.” Astarion adds pompously before swaggering forward, “Do you have any periwinkles? I think a generous brocade with silver stitching will compliment my pallor quite nicely.”

“As you wish,” Leiticia chuckles, obviously acclimated to dramatic and demanding customers. “And you my dear?”

“Um, I don’t know.” You shrug, fighting the burgeoning anxiety creeping up your spine. This was all so overwhelming. Destroying a bloodthirsty cult felt simple in comparison to rubbing elbows with the upper echelon. You hadn’t the slightest which color would compliment your skin tone best. Wondering where the next meal would be coming from was far more important a thought for street wise orphans.

“Hmmm,” Leticia circles you like a predator might its prey before stopping toe to toe. Her round eyes narrow, round chin resting atop a curled knuckle as she peers upwards. Astarion stands behind the woman, staring at you with amusement, “How do you feel about green? A deep, rich emerald?”

“I like green,” And you did, enjoying its beauty in the leaves decorating trees like baubles or the lush blades of grass sprouting in sprawling meadows. Small hands clasped together excitedly.

“Perfect!” Leticia practically squeals. “I could craft a matching doublet for the young Ravengard. Perhaps a lush onyx with emerald embroidery. In velvet.”

“That sounds absolutely perfect.” Astarion coos, , enjoying how pink you’d become, not unlike a ripe sunmelon. “You’ll be the most lavishly dressed couple the city could ever hope to boast.”’

“Your friend is right,” Leticia’s warm smile gleamed upon you, golden curls shimmering beneath tendrils of sun. The vampire adjusted his cloak thoughtfully; you were grateful, preferring not to sweep your friend up in a dust pan. “You and Wyll shall be dazzling together. I have his measurements stowed away. But yours I’ll need to get. Same with your rather fanged companion.”

“Have you draperies in the back room?” Astarion piped up as the gnome wrapped a warm hand around your own, propelling a rigid body forward. Leticia chuckled slyly:

“Don’t worry, dearie. You shan’t burn to cinders today.”

……

His body is tense when the threads between Avernus and Faerûn are breached, frayed edges ripping apart time and space when he and Karlach are devoured by a pool of molten darkness. Mizora’s lip quirks as his patron disappears amongst blazing hellfire. His body fizzles as though he’s on his own blazing pyre. Yet mortal skin doesn’t burn, still smooth ochre when blade and fury reimerge.

“Holy shit.” Karlach looks down at her chest, a flame inside no longer glowing. Beneath the gnarled skin is a beating heart like the one that had been brutally carved out. “This is bonkers. I can actually feel my own pulse. Not sputtering or flaming.”

It’s nothing short of a miracle, one that Mizora owed him after violating many terms of their agreement. Besides, the cambion was the closest to her mistress and was more likely to convince Zariel to accept their offer. To free Karlach from the binds of Avernus and allow her the freedom Gortash robbed her of.

Wyll continued to sacrifice his own freedom to avenge those who deserved it more than he.

“Congratulations, Kar,” Wyll smiles with a grin only a jaded nobleman could sport, proud yet lacking any arrogance. A large hand flattens on the center of the tiefling’s back, patting at her gnarled leather armor. “You deserve the best that this life can give.”

“You amazing bastard! C’mere!” she squeals before pulling her companion into a back breaking hug, easily lifting him from the ground. Their horns clack for an instant before Wyll lets out an unrestrained chuckle. “I owe you my fucking life.”

“Nothing is owed,” He gently pats broad shoulder, signifying that he was ready to be sat down. Fine leather boots collide with cobblestones outside the Elfsong. “Unless you’d like to treat me to a pint.”

“It’s a deal, mate,” an amber eye winks mischievously before her arm bent gallantly. The warlock smirks, shallowly bowing before he loops his arm in hers. A few stragglers outside the tavern gawked at the literally blazing arrival of two more of the Gate’s heroes before Karlach led the way into their old stomping grounds. Flagons of mead sounded unapetizing, especially as he longed to see only the face of his beloved.

The thought of you plagued him nightly in Avernus as ravenous imps chittered outside his tent. All he craved was to have his love safely wrapped in his arms once more. With the Elder Brain relinquished and the Dead Three destroyed, he knew no harm would come to you while he was away. So he wrote every other day, to assure his own safety.

He blinks hard, finding a gaze locking on his own. Familiar and warm, your eyes. His heart shudders with excitement; by the hells below, he conjured you. You fling yourself from a rickety chair as Astarion and Shadowheart roll their eyes. You had likely been a terror to the most emotionally witheld of the group, blubbering about his long awaited return. He chuckles at the thought of how many sending stones Gale received concerning the matter.

“Wyll!” you screech in excitement, practically launching yourself into his arms. He catches you quickly, arms looped beneath your thighs as ankles knot at the small of his back. Your own latch around a lean neck before kisses are peppered across face and horns alike. “You’re early!”

“Karlach and I were able to make a deal with Zariel and Mizora sooner rather than later.” His nose nuzzled against your own, brows plastering together as he sways beneath your weight. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I, you.” A calloused thumb swipes an unshed tear from your cheek. The barbarian silently slinks away, joining her friends at their table. Afterall, you and Wyll were lost in your own world.

……

You wake the next morning, swathed in buttery bedclothes you’ve become accustomed to. A warm figure lays sleeping at your side, chest rising and falling delicately. Its surreal to see him again, safe and plastered at your side.

Breaths are expelled through flared nostrils, arm covering closed eyes. A grin whispers across your lips, heart fluttering as you study your betrothed. He’s stunning, scars and horns be damned. A rugged prince who deigns to wed you.

I’d forgo the decadent weddings that are tradition for the noble folk of the Upper City. His gaze was wistful as you strolled the gardens, arm and arm. It was a well known fact that the blade harboured a prominent distaste for his inherited wealth and power.

Where would we elope to? You’d hummed contently, watching as nimble fingers unwound a blushing rose from a wrought iron trellis. Wyll carefully tucked the bloom behind your ear.

That clearing in the wilds. Where we camped. He leaned back, studying you as though he gazed upon a masterpiece. Our druidic friends could decorate the lands with wreaths of flowers and laurels. Shadowheart could bind our hands with ribbon and declare us one, Karlach and Lae’zel would out drink each other on fire whiskey while Gale bore us all with droll stories…

You had giggled though the image had your heart skipping a beat. You could wear a flowing dress complete with ribbons and eyelets, a crown of wild daisies and violets resting atop wild hair. A sprawling ceremony with lavish garments attended by droves of strangers sounded ghastly.

Maybe we could convince your father that tradition isn’t always necessary. You’d cooed, stroking a muscular arm covered by a simple jerkin. Sour laughter reverberated through his body.

You act as though you’ve never met Ulder. He tried to hide deep seated bitterness yet failed.

I think I’ve grown on him. You concurred sweetly, feeling that you were slowly melting the Grand Duke’s exterior. He could be convinced.

You’re as sweet as you are naive. It had been a sweet sentiment, one shared in the quiet dusk as fireflies began to twinkle to life. Wyll had brace your hands in his and pressed a kiss to a clammy brow.

It had taken a long while before returning to your chambers. Even then you only passed the time sharing stories, tucked cozily in his lap. A calloused finger traced unintelligible circles in soft skin. The same fingers that had taken countless lives for a cruel patron, the same that caressed his beloved gently.

You smirk at the thought, eternally amused by the incongruity of him. Not unlike the shallow dimples and cheeky grin offset by horns and a blazing red eye. Wyll Ravengard would never be the devil Mizora had attempted to stitch together.

Becoming a monster was an impossibility.

So you press a kiss to his upturned palm, watching as long fingers flexed.

“Tickles…” he mumbles groggily, voice gruff with sleep. So you repeat yourself, this time tracing the skin with the tip of your tongue, “Heathen.”

“Not all of us were born to high lords,” you reason before gently straddling his hips. “Some of us were raised without manners.”

“Maybe I’ll teach you some,” his good eye winks before large hands swallow your own. “Starting with not rousing your lover from a pleasant dream.”

“I’m sorry,” you groan dramatically, reeling back before careening into a broad chest. “You’re just so sweet. I couldn’t help myself.”

“I suppose I’ll forgive you,” he chuckles before burying a long nose in a nest of sleep sodden hair. “Hells, I’ve missed this.”

“We’ve never really had this.” a small hand runs a hand across a muscled chest, scars raised beneath the pads of your fingers, “At least not yet.”

“Come to think of it, you’re right.” he hums, lost in thought. “Karlach and I did leave right after the brain fell. Though I hope you’ve been enjoying your new luxuries.”

“It’s strange,” you wrinkle your brow, enjoying the steady thud of a strong heart beneath a flattened ear. “I’ve dreamt of living with such riches but it feels so out of place. I’m hoping you’ll help me adjust.”

Wyll’s about to answer when there’s a deafening knock at the door.

“May we enter m’ lord and m’ lady?” One of the servants announces cheerily, “It’s time to prepare for the evening’s festivities.”

It’s fortuitous that he arrived in time for the masquerade, that Leticia was likely up until dawn finishing his doublet. Regardless, you don’t want to leave the warmth of his arms. So you bury your nose in the crook of his neck when Wyll calls out:

“Five more minutes!” ……

You feel like a princess, swathes of emerald velvet heavy on your limbs, a string of pearls dripping down exposed shoulders. The mask hiding your face looks like a raven, accented with a sharp beak and sable feathers.

It’s a relief that no one recognizes you, no small talk required with stuffy aristocrats as you watch the dense crowd from the marbled balcony. Your companions dot the ballroom, though Aylin is the easiest to spot with golden tinged wings. Lae’zel and Shadowheart enjoy endless goblets of wine while Karlach has convinced Astarion to join her for a dance. Intricate masks enjoy their faces though your favorite is Gales: feathered and cat like, not unlike Tara the Tressym.

“My, my,” his voice is a whisper in the shell of one ear, sending a shudder up your spine. “You are gorgeous.”

You spin on one heel, grin broadening at the sight of his gorgeously gilded lion mask. It perfectly matches the deep green and golden threads decorating his black velvet overcoat. His teeth are pearlescent in the light of flickering candles, hands tucked at the small of his back.

“So do you,” you practically salivate, craving him more than you have the entirety of the day. “Utterly gorgeous.”

“You’ll make me blush brighter than the fires in the hells.” he extends a bent elbow. “Shall we, my dear?”

You say nothing, linking your arm with his, floating as he leads you down the yawning staircase. The prying eyes can hardly be felt prickling on your skin because all the matters is the man at your side.

All that has mattered is Wyll.