#Also If you're seeing this hi I'm future me fixing the tags now that these fuckers have their on tags now
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Chat, would you accept the offer?
#north's art#Zero Zero#<the fact that's his actual tag is so funny to me#Also If you're seeing this hi I'm future me fixing the tags now that these fuckers have their on tags now#I still don't know how to tag the comic itself#does not help that 'zero' can refer to the comic the person or the species#block this tag to make North stfu about zero#< it'll work for now#Im going to have to go back and add that tag to any other zero shit fuck#anyways look at the funny guy with funny horns
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HIYA GORGEOUS!! I absolutely adore all that you write and here I am once again to request something (tbh I’ll always be here to request things 🤭). So I’d like to request…
y/n (aka me) is Elijah's best friend but she's never met Klaus, only heard about him. one day she surprises Eli for his birthday so she walks in the compound, not knowing that Klaus is there too. she and Elijah exchange hellos then talk for a bit and before they can leave (Elijah is subtly trying to rush her out), Klaus hears her voice and comes downstairs. I'll leave the details to you but she and Klaus instantly hit it off so much so that it makes Elijah jealous (he's always had a thing for y/n but never said anything be he's afraid of losing their friendship). again, leaving the details to you. can we make it a 2-parter? 1 is jealousy/angst w/ implied smut between y/n and Klaus & 2 is Elijah confessing to y/n his feelings which lead to their first time sex and possible future relationship.
Sorry love if this is too much, it's okay if you're not up for it though! Thanks for even indulging me! 🤍
Mine
THIS SCENE MAKES ME GO FERAL
18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}
Part One
A drunken hookup with Klaus complicates your friendship with Elijah, leading to an awkward morning after.
♡♡ Thanks for the request sweet Aurora!! This one was a blast to write. But implied smut with Klaus??? Nahhh. No half-measures here. This is for all my Klaus girlies. You can't fix him, but you sure can fuck him. ♡♡
5k words - Warnings: smutttt {with Klaus}, rough sex, mild choking, Klaus being the drama, Elijah hiding his feelings & Rebekah judging you.
{Part Two}
You came rushing through the gates of the compound, carrying so many shopping bags that you could barely see. Your arms felt on fire, but a little strain was worth it all when you remembered who you were doing this for.
Tonight was Elijah's big birthday bash, put together by you and Rebekah, and you wanted everything to be perfect. Elijah had become one of your closest friends, and this celebration was your chance to show him how much he meant to you.
"Eli, I have so much stuff for the party. Where should I put it all?" you ask once you got far enough into the house.
Elijah emerged from the grand living room and came into the foyer to help you. He had an odd look on his face, but you couldn't really pinpoint it exactly. He took the bags from your arms and carried them himself.
"Don't look in them! I want it to be a surprise!" You said, putting your hands over his eyes and guiding him towards the table.
Elijah chuckled, "Fine, Fine. Are you sure all of this is necessary?"
"Absolutely." you said, uncovering his eyes. "You only turn 1040 once," you joked, causing the pair of you to laugh.
It was over-the-top as shit, but a girl had to take any opportunity to give a Mikaelson a birthday they would remember, and then some.
Elijah's smile faltered a bit as he looked around the courtyard nervously. "Will you be returning home to get ready for tonight?" He asked, trying not to sound hopeful.
"I'm actually getting ready here with Bekah, why? Have a hot date you are hiding from me?" You teased, unaware of the way Elijah's body stilled at your words.
"Oh no darling, no date, just a brother he wants to hide," said an accented voice from the second level balcony.
Elijah let out a rough sigh as you turned to see Klaus stepping down the stairs towards you both.
You had heard of the legendary hybrid of course, but since you met Elijah you had yet to run into him. In fact, this was the first time you had seen Klaus in person and were unaware of the true look of him. Which made you almost go weak in the knees.
He was hot, like 'fuck me right now hot' and it took everything in you not to drool. It didn't surprise you, all the other Mikaelsons were extremely attractive, so it only stood to reason their infamous hybrid brother would be also.
You could tell by the look on his face he found you just as attractive, and with a devilish smirk, he seemed to say ‘I will fuck you right now if that's what you wish’
"Hello love, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he drawled before bringing your hand up and kissing it softly.
You wanted to hate him. Klaus had been notorious for so long for his tantrums and viciousness. But one look and just a touch from his lips and you knew you were doomed.
"T-Thanks," you said, pulling your hand back.
Klaus tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and ran a thumb across your cheek.
"Are you blushing for me? Can't say I blame you, love," he said cockily.
Elijah rolled his eyes at his younger brother's antics, but as Klaus lingered on your skin he felt a stir of possessiveness settle in his bones. He cleared his throat, shooting his brother a glare,
"I would love some help setting up the party for your brother," you asked Klaus, hoping to spend more time with him, his charm quite intriguing.
"It's alright, I can help you," Elijah insisted, not wanting Klaus to interact with you for a multitude of reasons.
"It's supposed to be a surprise for you Eli,” you pouted, which caused Elijah to soften at your cuteness.
"I've got it handled, Eli," Klaus teased, emphasizing the nickname you used for him.
Elijah looked between the two of you, clearly wanting to decline your request and keep you both apart. But alas, for some reason, he couldn't come up with a legitimate reason.
Klaus grabbed your bags and walked off, you began to follow, turning back to give Elijah a wide smile. "See you tonight, birthday boy," you exclaimed happily before hurrying off after the younger Mikaelson.
You spent all afternoon decorating with Klaus, who insisted you call him Nik. He was somewhat sweet but full of himself. Yet, you enjoyed his company, he had a good eye for décor and matched your vision effortlessly.
"Have I accomplished my mission?" he asked. He brought a champagne bottle up, pouring two glasses and giving you one.
You leaned against the pillar with him and clinked your drinks together. "I'd say so, yes. Thank you so much for helping me."
"It was no trouble at all," Klaus said, then smirked at you over his glass. "You are quite stunning, love."
You grinned at his comment, "you should see me after I get all dressed up for tonight," you flirted, even though it sounded more like a challenge to him.
Klaus downed his drink then placed it on the table. Without warning, he pinned you to the pillar and trapped you against him. "Oh I plan on doing more than looking tonight," he said as his hungry eyes traveled over your body.
"I see you two have finally met, how wonderful," Rebekah commented, disrupting the moment.
You laughed nervously, glad for the interruption, gently pushing Klaus off of you. As much as you wanted to jump Klaus then and there, something held you back. And you knew what, or rather, who was keeping you from acting on your desires...
"We were just having some champagne," you tell her, taking another drink.
"I see that, the decorations look amazing by the way," she complimented as she poured herself a glass as well. "Catering has arrived, they are setting everything up downstairs," she informed you, letting you know you should probably get ready.
"I'll go get dressed then. Thank you again, Nik." You smiled at him again, and he grinned in response.
"I think I'm owed a dance for my hard work," he told you as you walked away with Rebekah.
You looked over your shoulder at him and gave him a wink, excited for the party to begin.
Once you were upstairs and away from Klaus, Rebekah spoke quietly to you. "Be careful with him, he's not like Elijah," she warned you.
"No one is like Elijah," you chuckled a bit, ignoring the pang of sadness you felt at the realization you would probably never be with the older Mikaelson.
The two of you spent your time getting ready, sipping on champagne and discussing the numerous guests who would be arriving. You got a little too buzzed, but you were excited and also needed some courage to face an unknown quantity of vampires.
Rebekah always had impeccable taste, helping you pick out a skin tight dress that came a few inches above your knees and accentuated every curve on your body. Adding even more with the tall black heels you slipped on, showing off your legs.
"I'm afraid I might have gone too far," Rebekah chuckled as she applied your makeup, making you look smolderingly hot.
"You think?" You asked sarcastically.
"You look like vampire bait and I'm sure it's going to drive him mad," she snorted, taking another drink.
"Who?" You looked at yourself in the mirror and fixed a smudge of lipstick.
Rebekah gave you a knowing look, but stayed quiet and you just smiled back at her innocently.
When everything was ready and all the guests started arriving, you and Rebekah made a grand entrance into the main parlor. Elijah was talking with someone when his eyes caught you across the room, you wandered over to him and gave him a big hug.
"Happy birthday," you whispered in his ear, as his arms pulled you tighter to him.
"Thank you so much," he said, pulling back just enough to smile at you, his face growing even brighter when he really looked at you.
You noticed the way his eyes traced your figure, taking you all in. The way they darkened a bit with pure desire, making you instantly become hot all over. But it was probably just your imagination, brought on by all the champagne you've been drinking.
You almost made a move right then, but the person he was conversing with interrupted and you found yourself drawn away by Bekah and her friends. Leaving Elijah to watch you from afar as you conversed with them, laughing and drinking.
Hours later, you were still in the middle of the large group of people, even dancing to the music that was blaring through the place. You saw Elijah dancing with a beautiful woman and you wanted to be happy for him, but then the woman whispered in his ear and touched his chest, and your mood immediately soured.
You went to the bar to get a drink, deciding more alcohol might be what you needed to wash away all your confused feelings.
"Thirsty, love?" Asked a familiar voice in your ear as your body was pulled back to collide with a strong chest. You could smell the scent of Klaus's cologne and instantly felt turned on.
"Very," you said, downing your entire shot.
He spun you around to look into your eyes, both of his hands on your waist, drinking in your appearance.
"You didn't have to do all this for me," Klaus teased, his eyes on your chest as he licked his lips. "I'm a sure thing, darling, you know that,"
You couldn't help but laugh. He may have been a lot of things, but he was definitely entertaining. You shook your head, but smiled all the same.
"I only ever dress up for myself, Nik," you sassed back to him, looking up through your lashes.
A slow smirk came to Klaus's face as he leaned in and captured your lips in his. He hummed into the kiss and his grip tightened on you. He pulled away, your lipstick was still on his lips.
You giggled and wiped it off, as he ordered you another drink. Not that you really wanted one but damn, he was good at persuading people.
"I recall that you owe me a dance," he reminded you, taking a sip of his own beverage.
"Oh?" You said innocently, fiddling with the many necklaces he was wearing. "I don't remember agreeing to anything," you flirted.
"Well, perhaps a private dance then," he teased, giving you a mischievous smile.
"Maybe I'll surprise you later," you whispered, leaning in and sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and playfully biting it, loving the look of surprise and arousal on his face.
Then you turned and sauntered away, leaving him standing there at the bar to watch you. You were definitely going to end up in his bed tonight, but you wanted to make him squirm a little. Or rather, a lot.
You moved through the crowd to see Elijah and the woman dancing close, whispering things to each other. Well, actually, only she was talking. He seemed like he wasn't paying too much attention to the conversation she was having with him.
You gave him a wave and a smile, pointing at the woman and giving him an encouraging thumbs up. You don't know why you did it. Your chest did funny things seeing him with someone else though.
He returned your smile but didn't do much else before she spoke in his ear again and he allowed her to lead him out of the crowd.
You guessed Elijah was tired of his own party and went off to have some fun, and you were determined to have the same.
Klaus found you sitting on the couch, a cocktail and a plate of various snacks in front of you. You were thoroughly bored as you couldn't find him again.
He came from behind and crashed beside you, taking the glass out of your hand and finishing it, then set it aside.
"Hey! That was mine," you scolded playfully.
Klaus put his arm around you and kissed your neck. "How about you stop pretending you're enjoying yourself and come upstairs with me?" He suggested.
You laughed, and then he abruptly pulled you up and practically carried you through the door leading upstairs, pinning you to the wall at the top of the steps.
"Nik," you tried to say while laughing. "You can't just haul me off and have your way with me," you protested as his lips got closer to yours.
"Tell me to stop and I will," he taunted, bringing his lips to yours in a rough kiss.
You felt like you couldn't breathe, everything moving so fast. Klaus didn't even give you a chance to respond, lifting you so your legs wrapped around him.
He walked into a room and shut the door, setting you down on his desk. You realized that you were in his infamous art studio, looking around as Klaus hovered over you. You felt his lips on your neck, kissing every inch until you moaned.
Then he found the tiny zipper of your dress and slid it down, exposing your breasts. He smirked, reaching to tweak your nipple as he took you in. "Well then, love. Now I truly see why my brother has hidden you from me," he said huskily.
You giggled at his compliment but then you couldn't form words as he yanked the rest of your dress off you. You sat on the desk naked, save for your heels and nothing else.
"Dear lord, you are gorgeous," Klaus muttered, touching you everywhere.
You pulled him close by his shirt collar and locked lips. You bit his bottom lip harshly and he growled, his eyes flashing gold. The way his eyes changed on you was the hottest thing you've seen.
You pulled his shirt off him, tossing it to the floor before unbuckling his belt, wanting him as naked as you were. Once you had him bare, you raked your nails down his chest and he chuckled.
"You want to play rough, don’t you love?" He whispered as he nipped at your neck.
"Maybe," you teased, "what are you going to do about it?" You questioned, leaning back on the desk a little and spreading your legs for him, getting wet at the promise of a wild night.
Klaus's breath hitched when you touched yourself for him, his eyes completely transfixed on you. He was definitely intrigued by how confident you were.
"Well then," he growled before he roughly pinned your legs open, his hands squeezing your thighs harshly. He brought your body to the edge of the desk, kneeling in front of you as he ran a thumb over your dripping wet center.
He hummed at your scent as he pulled you forward a bit more to devour you, making you yelp in surprise, your hands tugging on his curls.
He was good, really good, and your toes curled at the pleasure you were receiving. It only got better when you saw his golden eyes as he gazed at you with a possessive glint, the vibrations from his own groans of enjoyment hitting you just right.
But before you could climax he pulled back and stood up, making you whimper and sit up on the desk, wanting him to continue.
Klaus chuckled at your impatience, pulling you into another searing kiss as you moaned. He broke it and gave you a smug smile, before wrapping his hand around your throat.
You were panting with need, your hand moving down to his cock and he hissed at your touch. He moved forward so he was resting between your thighs again as you stroked him slowly.
You both stayed this way for a moment, staring at each other. Until finally Klaus couldn't stand it any longer and roughly turned you around to face the desk. He pushed on your back until you were bent over on the wood, making you giggle with anticipation.
He smacked your ass hard, turning your giggle into a gasp as you looked back at him. He did it again and again until it was stinging. You wanted him so badly, it was unbearable.
You reached back for him and he lined up his cock to your entrance, sliding it up and down a few times until you were nearly shaking. He finally gave in and pushed into you, his hand tugging your hair until you arched into him, and he sank into the hilt.
He hissed at the sensation and you were about to tell him to move but he started fucking you without you needing to, hard and rough and perfect. He had you moaning with each thrust as you grabbed onto the desk, holding on tight as his body collided with yours, skin slapping as you got closer to climaxing.
It was hot and a little dirty, just what you had needed. Your moans only spurred him on as his hands explored your body while he took you from behind. The force of his thrusts causing items on his desk to clatter to the floor, but you both were far too gone to care.
He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you back into him, making you stand so his other hand could roam your front. He moved up to massage your breast while pinching and tugging on your nipple until you moaned. He was clearly determined to make you come first and was going to enjoy doing it.
"Nik!" you whined his name when he pinched you a bit too harshly. You felt his lips on your neck, his fangs grazing the skin as he left hickeys.
You tilted your head for him and he smirked, licking your pulse point and gently nibbling. His thrusting becoming erratic as his hand slipped to your clit to rub fast circles until your legs started trembling and you let out a scream as your orgasm crashed into you.
He hummed in approval and thrust into you a few more times before you felt him filling you up with his cum, and you giggled from the sensation. He released you from his grasp and you leaned back down on the desk, turning around to face him.
You both were sweaty and exhausted but extremely satisfied. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, placing soft kisses all over your face as you giggled again, trying to move away from him.
He grabbed your dress and handed it to you before slipping on his pants, leaving his shirt off. He gave you a soft kiss on the lips and then turned away, starting to pick up the fallen objects from his desk and placing them in their correct places.
You watched him in a daze, your body tingling as you pulled your dress back on.
"So, love, my room is right next door, if you care to continue our celebration?" He said with a smug smirk, giving you a wink.
You giggled again and nodded, knowing it was probably the alcohol giving you your confidence, but you were going to ride the wave (and him) until the end.
Klaus woke to find you peacefully asleep in his bed. He leaned down to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead as you stirred slightly.
It was quite a night.
He took his time to admire your body and then your beautiful face. The way your eyelashes brushed your cheekbones as you slept, and your lips were parted slightly.
He got out of bed and got dressed, heading downstairs to find some blood and coffee. Elijah was in the kitchen reading his morning paper and looking every bit as dignified as always.
Klaus poured himself some coffee and started drinking it. He glanced around and saw there was no one else there but his brother, and he was smirking before he even opened his mouth.
"How was your night, Elijah?" He asked teasingly.
Elijah took his time to respond. He folded his paper up, placing it beside him as he eyed his younger brother suspiciously, he always had an innate sense to when Klaus was up to something.
"Quite fine. Why do you ask?"
Klaus's smirk grew bigger. He didn't say anything else and went about making himself something to eat. He felt Elijah's eyes boring into him the whole time, knowing that he wanted an answer but Klaus wouldn't give it to him just yet. He just loved torturing his big brother, even after a thousand years it was still highly entertaining.
"Your friend is an excellent host," Klaus started off with, his back turned as he chopped some fruit to put into a smoothie. He could almost hear the wheels turning in Elijah's mind as he tried to figure out where Klaus was going with this. "You really should have introduced me to her sooner."
Elijah sighed heavily. Klaus glanced behind him, and he had an annoyed expression on his face. He wasn't getting anything from Elijah so he turned to face him, his smirk returning.
"I showed her how much I appreciated her hard work last night. Several times actually, in my studio, a few times in my bed and then in the shower," he added as his smirk got wider and his tone became suggestive. "I dare say I've never been ridden so spectacularly before in all my years,"
Elijah abruptly stood, opening his mouth to say something, but that's when Klaus turned on the blender. Looking at Elijah apologetically and holding a finger to his ear and shrugging his shoulders.
"What's the matter brother?" he shouted over the blender. "You look a bit upset. You know it's not very healthy to bottle up all of your feelings,"
He stopped the blender and poured himself a glass, then another for Elijah as he handed it to him. Elijah just glared at him and poured the smoothie down the drain, setting the glass in the sink.
"That's rather rude, Elijah," he scolded teasingly. "I made that just for you,"
"Have you no shame, Niklaus?" He asked harshly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Noooo, shame is for boring people," he taunted. "Why are you so upset? Aren't you happy for your friend? I can assure you that she enjoyed herself immensely,”
Elijah snapped. He couldn't take anymore. He walked over and grabbed Klaus by the shirt collar, and shoved him against the wall roughly, holding him in place.
"You know how I feel about her and yet you slept with her anyway," Elijah seethed.
Klaus raised his eyebrow. "If you want her, then you should of taken her yourself," he snapped, his eyes flashing gold in challenge. "It's your loss anyway," he added, shoving him back and adjusting his collar, then smoothing out his shirt.
Elijah was livid. He knew it was just Klaus's way of being obnoxious, but that didn't make it any easier to handle.
"I can't get the vision of her tits bouncing in my face out of my mind, Elijah," Klaus taunted him again. "Perhaps if you're lucky, you'll get to experience it for yourself," he said, brushing past his brother and walking away with a laugh.
You woke in Klaus' bed with a terrible hangover and an empty spot beside you. You sat up, your head spinning a bit as the memories of the night before came flooding back.
Oh God, you slept with Elijah's brother.
You covered your face in embarrassment. You got drunk, got laid and it was with the worst person you possibly could of picked.
Elijah was going to kill you. He's been protecting you from his brother and here you go, having sex with him in his bed. You could imagine how disappointed he was in you right now.
You quickly got dressed and made your way downstairs, needing some coffee and possibly a few pain pills to try and take the edge off your headache.
Klaus was walking away from the kitchen, a devious smirk on his face. When he saw you, his grin got even bigger, but he said nothing, just gave you a wink.
You turned red in embarrassment and dashed into the kitchen, finding Elijah sipping his morning coffee while reading his paper. He looked up when he saw you enter and then he folded the paper and placed it on the island.
"Morning," he started off in a professional tone. You hated how he sounded.
You grabbed a mug and poured the liquid into it. Elijah was silent as he waited for you to face him, and once you had taken a few sips, he was standing in front of you.
He pushed your hair off your neck and a flash of Klaus' mouth sucking and nibbling on you last night, appeared in your mind. You were definitely covered in marks and hickeys.
"I see you had fun," Elijah muttered, and you saw him look over your appearance, the slight smudged make-up, messy hair and rumpled dress from last night.
He wasn't usually one to judge someone else's life choices, but this was his brother and you. It seemed more personal.
You blushed and pushed your hair back over your shoulder, so his eyes would stop staring at your neck. You needed a cold shower or something, the entire night was still feeling extremely vivid.
"Look Elijah, I'm so sorry, he just caught me at the right moment and I got a little drunk and..." you trailed off, taking a drink of coffee to calm your nerves. You really didn't have any good excuse to give him.
"It's alright, you can be with whoever you choose," Elijah stated in a collected tone.
You frowned and saw him adjusting his cuff-links. A sure sign he was upset. He always did that when he was angry or hiding what he was truly feeling.
"It was just a one time thing," you added, but you felt like he wasn't listening to you anymore.
Elijah was acting strange. Sure he could be an enigma sometimes, but this was different. He looked determined but a little annoyed, and you weren't quite sure how to read the situation. You decided to steer the conversation away from Klaus and what had happened between you two.
"How was your night?" You finally thought to ask. "I saw you leave with a woman, you looked like you were having fun," you said it teasingly, hoping it would lighten up the mood.
But now it was his turn to blush.
"Fine, really. It was fine," he muttered, fixing the already perfect knot in his tie. Now that was definitely something. Elijah rarely ever got tongue tied. "We kissed and I walked her home," he added, his lips pressing together in a firm line.
"That's all? You didn't...well, you know?" You questioned hesitantly.
"One night stands aren't my forte," he replied, giving you a soft smile. "When I take a woman to bed, I make her mine," his words were possessive and he hadn't taken his eyes off you.
The two of you weren't the kind of friends who discussed your sex life with each other. So when he said this, your cheeks turned hot and your imagination went wild. The idea of him holding you down and having his wicked way with you was something you were definitely interested in.
You both were staring at each other, the tension growing by the second. Then you looked away, you couldn't possibly fuck another Mikaelson in the same twelve hour period. Besides, Elijah meant far more to you than Klaus ever could. Sex with him would probably lead you somewhere complicated, and you didn't want to ruin what you had right now.
The situation was way too weird.
"Do you want to hang out tomorrow?" You decided to ask, breaking the silence and steering the conversation away from sex. You just wanted to spend some time with him. "Maybe come up to my place? I don't work the next two days," you added, hopeful he would agree to spend time with you, even though he always did, but this time you felt more nervous about it.
It would help things get back to normal, as normal as they could be after what happened with Klaus.
"Sure, Klaus and Rebekah won't be home tomorrow if you would like to come over here instead?" He suggested, your eyes meeting his again.
He had such an intense way of staring into your eyes, that it almost felt like he was looking into your soul.
"Well, it's your birthday so whatever you would like to do," you stated, giving him a sweet smile.
Your phone buzzed, breaking the moment. You grabbed it from your purse and opened the new text from Klaus:
- I'm available if you ever need something to ride again.
You quickly put down your phone, forgetting you had given him your number. You decided you were going to ignore it. There was no way you were going there again.
Elijah looked curious but didn't press.
"I better go home," you said, finishing your coffee and putting it in the sink.
"See you tomorrow," he replied, stepping closer and giving you gentle kiss on the cheek.
You said bye to him and walked out of the kitchen to the courtyard where Rebekah and Klaus were arguing. They both looked over at you, their argument stopping when they noticed you.
"Hello darling," Klaus greeted, his eyes raking over you. Flashes of your evening together running through your mind, and you quickly looked away from him.
Rebekah looked between the two of you and you could see her trying to figure it out, her eyes widening as she stared at you. You quickly hurried out of the compound before either of them could say another word.
{Part Two}
♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡
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Miracle-seven
Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader
Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.
Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.
Author Note: fuck, it's almost one in the morning but here's the next part! I wanted things to be more spicey but I'm so tired so it lacks luster, my apologies.
Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo @er3nslovergirl @iamdesolate @lma1986 @jessitpwk @themodern-daywednesday @writethrough
Bringing the blanket closer to my chin, I wrapped it tighter around me as I dug myself deeper into bed. The morning rays of the sun broke through the windows of the bus showing it was well into the morning. We'd been driving for almost eight hours now, me just waking up a while ago. Last night after leaving the venue, Folio showed me around the bus before letting me get settled. Compared to the crew's bus, the guy's bus was decently bigger with six bunks, a kitchen with living space up front, and a room in the back that they used to their gaming space. I was surprised at how spacious the bunks were but figured they had to be with how tall Jolly and Noah were.
Thinking of Noah, my eyes darted to the bunk directly across from me and saw he was awake browsing his phone, earbuds in both ears. Even though we finally got past what happened that night in Chicago, there still was this weird tension between us and the only reason that could be was because what happened that night at the Airbnb.
I leaned over the edge of my bunk and patted his arm to get his attention.
"Need something?" Noah questioned while taking out an ear bud.
"Do you think we can talk about what happened the other night? At the Airbnb."
This made him drop his phone to his bed and turned on his side to fully face me, one of his arms to burry underneath his pillow.
"I thought we didn't need to talk about it. You said it was a onetime thing," Noah reminded me.
"I know," I sighed. "And I meant it. But I don't want things to get awkward between us because of it."
Noah gave me a warm smile. "It's only awkward if one of us makes it and I don't plan too."
"Me either," I matched his smile.
We watched each other for a few more beats before Jolly popped his head through the door that closed off the bunks to the front of the bus.
"Oh, good. You're awake," he motioned towards Noah. "We've got a problem."
Those words made me sit up in my bunk while Noah stood to his feet, running a hand through his sleep tousled hair to fix it.
"What's up?"
Jolly told him to follow which he did but curiosity also weighed heavily on me so I did as well, seeing that both of the Nick's were awake, sitting on the couches. Noah sat down at the table in the kitchen while I sat across from him.
"Breakfast?" Nick asked while holding up a box of cereal.
"Please," I said with a smile.
With the bowl of cereal in front of me, I listened as Jolly explained what their problem was.
"They canceled the festival tomorrow. I guess Ohio was hit with some nasty storms so they thought better to be safe."
Noah's shoulders fell in disappointment.
"Damn. We're almost there, aren't we?" He asked.
Folio nodded. "The rest of the crew arrived about two hours ago. Matt's trying to figure out what to do."
"Should we head to the next city?" Nick suggested.
"Maybe we should meet up with the others and we can all leave together," Jolly said.
Noah rubbed at the faint stubble that covered his chin. "I feel bad for the fans."
Just then, as I was sitting there quietly eating my cereal, an idea sprouted in my mind but I thought it would be best to keep it to myself. This seemed like a Bad Omens meeting, yet they were willingly talking about any possible plans in front of me.
I took my bowl to the sink in the small kitchen to wash it and once finished; I turned on my heels and grabbed the edge of the counter behind me.
"I may have an idea," I muttered.
Four sets of eyes fell on me and Noah raised a brow at me.
"About?"
I took a deep breath, gaining the courage to tell them about this grand idea.
"So you guys feel terrible about the festival being canceled because you want to play for the fans, right?"
When they nodded, I felt stronger so stood up straighter. "What if you guys do this pop up event?"
"Pop up event?" Jolly repeated.
"Yeah," I nodded this time. "I've seen a few bands do this, and it was really popular with their fans. We can rent out a place to set up a table where fans can come get autographs and set up the merch booth so they can buy merch; that way they can still see you guys. We'll sell a certain amount of tickets for this."
Noah and Jolly shared a look while Folio gave me a huge smile, clearly loving the idea.
"Do you think it's sort of last minute?" Nick asked.
I scoffed lightly. "You guys seem to forget about much your fans love you. If we announce this, I guarantee tickets will sell out in a few hours."
"I like it," Jolly admitted. "But what about the people that already bought tickets to see a concert?"
My bottom lip caught between my teeth as I thought of something else they could do. Just because they couldn't play at the festival didn't mean they couldn't play somewhere else.
"What if you guys play somewhere else?" I asked.
Noah hesitated with apprehension as he leaned his arm over the back of his seat and I did my best not to gawk at the tattoos that rippled against the muscles of his arms. I needed to stay focused so I can prove to them that my crazy, last-minute idea wasn't that; crazy.
"I don't know, Y/N. It might be hard to book something so last minute," Folio spoke next.
My arms crossed over my chest, and I tapped my foot in agitation. "You're supposed to be on my side, Folio."
He held up his hands. "Trust me, I am. I like the idea of the pop up event but the last minute show might be harder to pull off."
"Please," I waved him off. "Someone in Ohio owes me a favor, a huge one at that. Give me some time and I'll get it all handled."
"Who do you know in Ohio?" Nick wondered.
"Some guy," I shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal.
Noah, however, thought it was because a muscle in his jaw ticked as his shoulders went rigid.
"An ex?" He asked through clenched teeth.
"Aw, are you jealous, Noah?" I leaned over the table closer to him. "That's cute, but no. Someone I met while I was in college. I've never had a boyfriend."
"Really?" Noah asked.
I didn't miss the surprise in his voice.
"Yeah. I've had hook ups during college but nothing ever turned serious. None of them were worth to have a future with."
He shifted in his seat and I worried I might have said something wrong but when he pulled me down into the seat next to him, Noah slid over his laptop in front of me.
"You want to prove to us you can do this, better get started," he smirked.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You can have a little faith in me."
Noah bumped his shoulder with mine and stayed leaning into me. "I have the upmost faith in you, angel. That you won't pull this off."
Now my eyes buldged almost out of my head as a squeak of disbelieve fell from my lips.
"What do I get when I pull this off?" I debated with him.
The rest of the guys looked on amused, waiting to see what Noah would say.
"What do you want?" He shrugged.
I thought about it for a long moment, making a show of tapping my head with a finger, like how Winnie the Pooh did in the movie. Although, I put some thought to it because Noah Sebastian was asking what I wanted.
So many fucking things if they were coming from you.
Instead of something risqué, I chose something tamer and when the thought graced my mind, a large grin pulled at my lips.
"If I'm able to book the pop up and show successfully, I get to design your next tattoo."
Expecting him to say no, Noah simply leaned back into his seat to show his covered arms in tattoos then lifted his legs, not showing much space of skin.
"I have little space left but for you, angel. I'd find even a sliver of skin. You've got yourself a deal."
With that, I cracked my fingers and went to work finding not only a place to host their pop up event but also a concert. They were supposed to be playing in Cleveland so I started looking for smaller halls that could house the pop up event.
While I worked, Jolly went off to fill in Matt about my idea. Both of the Nicks retreated to the back area of the bus to play some kind of video game, and Noah moved from his spot next to me to the couch so he could stretch his long body. We didn't speak, letting the silence fall around us like a blanket, but I felt his gaze on my often. At one point, I looked over the laptop at him and noticed he was watching me with a smile.
"What? Is there something on my face?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"No," he shook his head. "You look beautiful, angel."
I blushed, the warmth vibrating throughout my entire existence.
"Right."
Noah sat up straighter on the couch so he could see me better.
"You don't believe me?" He asked.
I shrugged. "For someone who barley talked to me last tour and when this one started, you're getting pretty cheeky with me."
"You're also not as closed off as you were last time," Noah noted.
"Well, I thought you hated me," I grumbled, eyes scanning the screen in front of me.
Noah came to sit in front of me and shut the laptop so we had to look at each other. There was a dull look of hurt in his brown iris'.
"You thought I hated you?" His voice was quiet, almost broken.
I shrugged one shoulder while pulling at a loose fabric on my sweatpants. "You didn't talk to me much so I thought I'd done something."
"Angel," Noah sighed.
"Don't say it's because of what happened in Chicago," I interrupted. "I felt this way long before then."
He fell back into the bench seat behind him, a low noise crawling its way through his throat, my confession taking him by surprise.
"I never hated you, Y/N. Even what happened after Chicago. And let me set the record straight; I never hated you because of what happened that night. I was upset that you could of seriously been hurt and never realized it."
My eyes cast down to my hands that were now folded together on the table in front of me.
"I know," I whispered.
Noah reached over and linked our hands together. "I'm sorry for the hurtful things I've said and how I've been towards you. Please know I never hated you."
I swallowed thickly at his apology; it was sincere. Probably the first time I'd ever hear something so truthful from Noah. I gave his hand a tight squeeze, letting him know I accepted his apology.
Feeling better about our conversation, Noah put the laptop back in front of me and now watched me from right across of the table. My phone was set on the table next to it and it began flashing with notifications from Only Fans so I quickly flipped it over so Noah didn't notice.
It's been a few days since I posted anything and my subscriber count went up a few but still not enough to be making a lot of money. I knew it was because the things I posted were tame compared to what was already on the sight from others but I wasn't willing to change my rules. This was only a temporary thing so I could pay Lana until I was back home. Then I would deactivate my account.
"Hiding something?" Noah questioned with a knowing smug smile as he peered over the laptop.
"Nope, just stupid emails," I lied and forced my eyes to look back at the screen in front of me.
I had a message up to my old college lab partner, wondering if he still had that hook up with someone from the local mall in Cleveland. There was a decent sized space that was used to be rented out for meetings or parties. It would be perfect for the pop up event.
A notification of a new email popped up on the corner of the screen and seeing who it was from, I clicked on it.
Dear MS. Y/L/N,
I'm glad that you reached out. We heard about the cancelation of the festival because of the weather. We here at House of Blues would love to have Bad Omens play here tomorrow night. Attached is a copy of the contact that can be signed then sent over. I hope you understand that with it being a last-minute booking, extra fee's apply. Please let me know if you'd like to proceed.
Dan Sorenson
House of Blues.
"Ha!" I yelled, turning the screen to face Noah.
His eyes darted back and forth as he read the screen, his face not changing from the smug smile he wore.
"Well, looks like the show is booked but you still have to deal with the pop up event," He reminded me.
I stuck my tongue out at him while turning the laptop back to me. "Yes, I know that."
Noah groaned while griping my chin between his thumb and pointer finger. "If you stick that pretty little tongue out at me one more time, angel, I'm going to bite his so hard it bleeds."
My skin ignited with a blaze so hot it surprised me Noah didn't rear back in hissing pain. There was a slickness between my legs from his promise and I almost did it again so he could act on it. But Folio walked from the back of the bus and with a curious gaze at us, he sat down on the couch in the living area.
"What's going on here?" He asked.
Noah's eyes flashed before he let my face go and went over to sit next to Folio. As their conversation faded to the background of my subconscious, I blinked a few times to center myself and noticed a new message appeared on the screen in front of me.
Y/N! It's been awhile? How're things?
I can definitely book our event space for your friend's band tomorrow. There's a lot of us that are familiar with Bad Omens so we'd be happy to host your pop up event. What time did you need?
By now, Jolly and Nick came to join the others, and I grabbed the laptop to walk over to them, showing the message.
"I'll be damned," Folio whistled low.
"I'm impressed," Jolly said with a chuckle.
Nick smacked Noah against his shoulder. "Looks like I'll be tattooing whatever design she comes up with."
"I guess so," he winked at me. "I'll admit when I'm wrong and I was. Thanks for doing that, Y/N."
I smiled while setting the laptop on the table before falling into the couch between Folio and Jolly. "I've already posted it all to the Bad Omens social media and sent the details over to Matt so he can get his end tied up."
"You should be our social media ambassador," Folio said.
Immediately I shook my head. "No, that seems like a lot of work I'm not qualified for."
Nick snorted. "You booked two huge events on last-minute notice and got it spread like wildfire online. Tickets are already being bought."
I peered over at his phone that he titled towards me and sure enough, ticket sales were already booming for both events. But I still wasn't convinced.
"Don't you guys switch off posting on the Bad Omens social medias?" I asked.
"Yeah but it'll be easier if you took it over. We forget sometimes and it gets messy who was supposed to post something," Folio said.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, really thinking about his offer. It's not like it was a hard job, it was something I did on my own social media.
"Does it come with a pay raise?"
It was supposed to be a joke, but Noah responded right away.
"Of course. It's a lot more work than being the merch girl, which you won't be anymore. We can find someone to replace you."
This was not something I expected to happen when I woke up this morning, but I wasn't complaining. The pay raise would be significant and maybe I could deactivate my only fans page sooner than expected.
"Okay. I'll do it."
For the next while, the guys told me what my new position would entail and what I was in charge of. While Byran took professional photos and videos of them, I would still take some and post to their tik tok page or Instagram stories. When Bryan finished editing whatever photos he took, he would send them over to me and I would post them. I would also be in charge of dealing with messages that came through any platform.
By the time we ironed everything out, I excuse myself to my bunk, exhaustion overtaking my body. It was well into the afternoon and knowing we would be in Cleveland soon, I desperately wanted to nap before then.
As I lay in my bunk, I ended up staring at my Only Fans page and thought about ways I could revamp it to get a few more subscribers. Even with my new job title and pay, I couldn't give it up yet. Lana's paycheck was due tomorrow and while I had enough for it, it would clear out my bank account.
I pulled tight the curtain to my bunk as best as I could and stripped out of my shirt, pants, and bra. I wouldn't be able to record a video right now so a picture was the best option. Instead of covering my breasts, I kept them on display as I held up my phone, snapping a few different angles making sure my face was covered. Once satisfied with how I looked, I got dressed again and uploaded a few of the pictures to my page.
By the time that was finished, my eyes were heavy with slumber so I curled into the corner of the bunk, letting sleep encase around me. I was so deep in sleep that I barely heard Noah's phone go off and a loud groan of pleasure echoed from his bunk.
"You've got to be kidding me, angel. Right next to me."
"I can't believe how well everything turned out," I smiled as I walked alongside Folio in the mall.
The pop up event ended a few minutes ago and as mentioned, everything went smoothly. Fans were ecstatic to meet the guys and get their autographs. Merch sold like crazy and thankfully, Matt and Davis could cover my old job until they could find a replacement. Matt thought my new job was a great idea, mentioning that I was always made for more than just selling merch.
"You did that," Folio bumped his shoulder into mine, a proud smile on his face.
Jolly and Nick were in front of our group, leading us to a restaurant so we could get something to eat before the show tonight. Another event I threw together. To say I was proud of myself was an understatement. I wanted to so badly call my mom to tell her but knew that she would only respond with three words.
"Who are you?"
I hadn't heard from either my mom or Lana today which made me worry because with how the last phone call conversation went, I could only think of the worst.
Noah made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat and I looked up to him as he walked next to me. From the second he stepped off looking like that, I was so wound up and turned on that I kept squeezing my aching core between my legs to curb that itch. Noah had the top half of his hair up in a bun and wore a baggy shirt with an anime logo and name across it and a pair of black shorts.
I wanted to lick every inch of muscles on his thighs; he looked that delicious.
But something was different with him today. Noah made sure that he never strayed far from me and during the event, his eyes were almost always on me. He refused to let me out of his sight. The brown of his eyes drank in every inch of me as well and if I didn't find a corner to rub one out, I would explode.
We found a restaurant inside the mall and all slide into a corner booth at the back of the large room. With how we sat, Noah and I were seated alone on one side, kind of away from Jolly, Nick, and Folio. The three of them chatted about what they were going to get and as I was about to ask Noah what he wanted, I felt his hand grasp the inside of my thigh and I sucked in a breath.
"Angel," he breathed in my ear.
I hummed when his fingers slowly moved higher between my legs. Our actions were underneath the table so no one could see.
"I can't stop thinking about your face when you cum," he admitted. "Can you do that for me again, please?"
I shouldn't do this. It was only supposed to be a onetime thing. But I was also so fucking horny, I needed this so bad. And he asked nicely.
My eyes fluttered shut when his finger slipped between the waistband of my leggings and without thinking, I spread my legs wider for him. If he didn't understand that, I gave a firm nod while keeping up the facade of looking over the menu.
Noah did the same, his eyes scanning his menu all while his finger slipped between my panties and pussy.
I bit down hard on my lip to keep the moan quiet when his finger brushed along my folds, knowing he felt how wet I'd been all day. He turned his face slightly towards me, his eyes sparkling with arousal.
"So wet already," he mouthed.
Not trusting myself to be quiet, I nodded as his finger pushed inside of me, pumping slow at first to work me open. Then another finger joined, and I nearly dropped my head on the table. Noah's fingers were long where they could reach that spot with ease.
Noah leaned closer to me making it look like he was talking about something so normal. "You're so tight, angel. Are you going to cum already?"
"Yes," I whined.
"Have you been wet all day for me?"
Always.
I nodded which made Noah smirk. "Be a good girl and don't make a noise. I can't have the guys knowing what I'm doing to you underneath the table."
Fuck; Noah Sebastian was going to kill me.
As he talked to Folio, giving nothing away, his fingers worked inside of me fast and when his thumb pressed against my clit, I nearly came with a scream. My hips bucked up into his hand and I ended up setting the menu up to it could cover my face as my lips fell open in a silent moan. The orgasm was so close, a bright white light brushing over my vision and heat spread at the base of my spine to my scalp. I shook in Noah's grasp as my pussy walls clenched around his fingers.
"Noah," I breathed when the orgasm washed over me in a tidal wave.
I shamelessly dry humped his hand to ride over the last little of the aftershocks and almost whined when Noah turned to look at me. He pulled out his fingers, the sudden loss of warmth making me go slack against the booth, and brought them to his mouth. I watched in my post orgasmic haze as he licked them clean, his eyes blown wide with blackness of his own desires.
"What do you guys think of this place? We tried it back in Iowa, figured it was a good choice," Nick said.
The three of them were still oblivious to what happened.
"Best meal I've ever fucking had," Noah hummed, my arousal glistening his lips.
#noah sebastian#noah sebastian and reader#noah sebastian x reader#noah sebastian reader insert#noah sebastian smut#forced proximity#enemies to lovers#slow burn
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Teasing Him ft. Heartslabyul
Character(s): Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce
Summary: You're trying to tease him
Tag(s) and warning(s): GN!Reader, fluff, romantic, established relationship, mutual pining, cringe pickup lines
Note: This is inspired by some pickup lines that were once famous in my country. Many people say it's a bit cringe, but personally I think It's kinda cute though ╮(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)╭
1. Riddle Rosehearts
You and Riddle are studying together in his room for tomorrow's test. In the middle of studying, you feel your neck a little sore, so you intend to take a short break. When you raised your head, you found Riddle very seriously reading the book he was holding. It should be nothing but an ordinary sight, but in your eyes, Riddle seems even more attractive like that. His eyes trailing down following sentence after sentence in the book, his slender fingers that gently turning the pages of the book, all of it seem to shout ELEGANT.
Noticing the way your eyes keep staring at him, Riddle's face would blush slightly before finally he will clear his throat to snap you out of your reverie. Caught red-handed staring at his face, instead of stuttering or looking away pretending to be busy, you just smiled mischievously.
“Riddle, do you know the difference between you and books?”
Riddle's brows furrowed in confusion at your out of blue question. Nevertheless, he still answered your question just now with a shake of his head.
“I don't know. What's the difference?”
Your smile grew wider when you heard Riddle's answer, “I can see the world through books, but through you, I can see my future.”
Your answer succeeded in making Riddle's face blush perfectly. His mouth gaped open as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.
Not knowing what to say, Riddle then tried to cover his embarrassment by reprimanding you.
“Stop talking nonsense, (Name)! Focus on getting back to your book if you don't want to get a bad mark on tomorrow's test!” he said, then immediately covered his face using the book he was reading earlier, not realizing that he was holding it upside down.
Your boyfriend's reaction is so cute! You want to keep teasing him, but then you two won't be able to focus on studying for the test tomorrow. So, you decided to end your teasing for today.
“Riddle, can you please explain this part for me?”
“O-only if you promise not to tease me again!”
“Hahaha, yes, yes. I promise, don't worry~”
“Hmph! That's good then.”
“... only for today, though….”
“(Name)!"
2. Trey Clover
Soon, Heartslabyul will hold another Unbirthday Party. Trey once again gets the job of making cakes that will be served at the party. And since you're his lover, you volunteered to help him in the kitchen. Besides being able to ease his workload, you can also spend more time with your boyfriend. It's a win-win situation.
Trey, being the kind soul he is, always offers you to taste his homemade cakes fresh out of the oven. And every time you taste Trey's cake, the young man himself will look at you with a satisfied smile, glad you enjoyed his cake. It always makes you feel embarrassed while he just laughs at your blushing cheeks, and so, today, you try to tease him back.
When the cake on your plate is half left, you suddenly stop eating and turn to look at Trey, who's still smiling while watching you.
“Trey, don't you think I've gaining more weight recently?”
Trey's smile instantly disappeared, replaced by a confused frown on his forehead. Seeing your (fake) worried expression, Trey began to observe your body carefully.
“From my observation, I didn't see anything different from you,” he said as he fixed his glasses in position, “Why did you suddenly ask that?”
Here comes the question you've been waiting for!
“You see, every day you always give me your love, so I'm afraid my heart, that has been filled with your love, will make me gain weight,” you say with a sigh, a little dramatic.
Trey was silent for a few moments, trying to process the meaning of your words. When he finally caught what you meant, a blush slowly appeared on Trey's cheeks and he chuckled happily.
“Then, should I take the responsibility for that by loving you forever?”
3. Cater Diamond
When you and Cater are on a date in the park, as usual, Cater will take many pictures of him and you for later he posts on his Magicam. Of course, he won't forget to tag your account so that people know that he has a wonderful lover.
Looking at your account details, Cater is quite surprised to find out that his lover has a fairly large following, even though they rarely post something. And being an avid social media user he is, Cater sometimes tries to persuade you to post more often so that you two would be a famous Couple Goals. Also, so that people know that you are his, and he is yours.
“(Nickname)-chan, why do you rarely post things? You're very photogenic, you know. Surely, many people will like your photo,” he asked while editing the photo he just took a few moments ago, his head resting on your thigh.
You, who were playing with his orange hair, couldn't help but chuckle, “Honestly, I feel like I don't really need social media.”
“Huh?!” Hearing your statement, Cater spontaneously stopped his editing and looked at you incredulously, “Why do you say that, (Nickname)-chan?”
Seeing the shock adorning his face, you can't help yourself and reflexively lower your head to kiss his forehead.
“You see, I've been following you and like what I see,” you said, smiling playfully at Cater, whose mouth was still gaping from the sudden kiss earlier.
“O-oh…. Is that so? Hahaha…. I see, I see.” A blush began to appear, coloring Cater's face red. Realizing that it was impossible for him to get rid of the flush that had filled his cheeks, Cater chose to go back to editing the photos he had taken so that his phone could hide his face. But his plan failed miserably as soon as his eyes saw you in the photo smiling brightly at him, and again Cater felt the blush had spread all the way to his ears.
4. Ace Trappola
Today, the basketball club is holding a match to determine who will represent the school at next month's tournament. Ace being Ace, of course he tried to participate in that match as well. And of course, he lost against seniors who had more experienced than him.
Annoyed, Ace chooses to join you sitting on the side of the court. He'll grumble about his defeat to you, while you retaliate him with your witty remark. In the end, you two will start bickering at each other like usual.
“You know, Ace? Sometimes I feel like the two of us are like water and oil. We are different, and we can't be one,” you said very suddenly, looking straight into your boyfriend's eyes.
What you just said was instantly making Ace's body tense up. You two often bicker each other, so he is used to letting his mouth loose so easily around you. But perhaps he has subconsciously said something that crossed the line?
“What are you talking about, (Name)? If we are both water and oil, surely the two of us can't be together like this, right?” He gently elbowed your arm with a big smile, trying to break the awkward atmosphere that has covered the two of you.
But facing your serious face, Ace immediately stopped joking around.
“W-why did you suddenly say that?” Ace puts his hands in his pants pockets, trying to look calm, even though his heart has begun to panic when he hears you say that.
Realizing his panic, you then laughed so hard that it made Ace instantly confused.
“Although the two of us are like water and oil that cannot be united, but fortunately, there's love between both of us that acts as the emulgator.” You finish your sentence and smile mischievously at him.
It took a few seconds for Ace to understand the meaning of what you said just now, but once he understood, a faint blush would decorate his cheeks and he would pinch your cheeks together to cover up his embarrassment.
“Goodness, I didn't expect you to tease me using a science pickup line. If Professor Crewel heard that, he would definitely not be happy about the way you implement his lesson.”
5. Deuce Spade
Weekends should be spent relaxing away, but not for you and Deuce who have to dwell in your room doing homework. It's annoying indeed, but at least now you can spend some time alone with Deuce without worrying about being disturbed by his other first year friends.
When you finally finish your homework, Deuce has only done a third of it. You offered to help him finish the homework quickly, but he refused because he wanted to try to finish it all on his own. And so, you choose to wait for him by playing your phone. Opening your Magicam, you see people making videos about their lover's reaction when they say romantic words to them. Seeing the adorable reactions they show, you also want to try it on your boyfriend.
“Deuce, do you still use this book? If not, then I'll read it, alright?”
“Sure, no problem, (Name),” he replied as he turned his attention away from his homework to look at you, who were now reading one of the books he borrowed from the library.
“But why do you suddenly want to read that book? Isn't your homework done?” Deuce asked, tilting his head slightly, “Ah! Don't tell me that we have a new homework again?!”
Seeing you shaking your head, Deuce breathed a sigh of relief. But your next words once again made him surprised.
“You know, Deuce, ever since I started going out with you, I feel like I want to keep learning more.”
Wow, that was the first time Deuce heard someone say they used him as their motivation to learn. What's more, it's not just anyone who said it, but you, his lover.
“U-um…. I-I'm flattered?” Didn't know how to react to that, Deuce rubbed his nape and shifted his attention to the book you're holding, “A-anyway! What did you learn?”
Smiling broadly, you showed Deuce the pages of the book you were reading. When Deuce read the chapter title, his cheeks immediately flushed red.
'Courting Tradition From Time To Time'.
“I'm learning to be the best for you, Deuce!"
If Deuce's face had turned red before, now he has become a blushing mess after hearing what you said just now. Putting his hands over his face, Deuce took a deep breath before finally shouting with all his might to ease his embarrassment.
"ARGHHHH!"
"Deuce, are you okay?!"
#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst wonderland#twst x reader#twst imagines#riddle rosehearts#trey clover#cater diamond#ace trappola#deuce spade#riddle rosehearts x reader#trey clover x reader#cater diamond x reader#ace trapolla x reader#deuce spade x reader#riddle x reader#cater x reader#trey x reader#ace x reader#deuce x reader#gado-gado#🍴_comp
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Hi Nina! I hope you’re doin’ well! Whenever you get time, can you write about Rusty Nail (preferably joyride 2) and Bo Sinclair meeting their future s/o who is just like them? Not like a copy and paste but they have similar likes/dislikes/personalities/etc. Maybe Rusty meets a reader is who also a trucker? Maybe Bo meets a reader who is also into cars or likes guns? Preferably reader be afab or gender neutral (whichever works best for you!). You can also put it in whatever format you think would be best or is easiest for you. Headcanons, short fic, etc I don’t mind either way. I know this is a lot but I think you can make it work and if not that’s perfectly fine and okay! Hope you have a great day love! 🥰🖤
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Bo Sinclair x reader
Rusty nail x reader
I finally have request!!! Happy to tears😭 your request make my day more better🥺💜 and thank you hope you have a wonderful day too!
I plan to write a short fic but seem like I write to a real fic lmao, anyway hope you enjoy!!!
Special tag: @sh1n0o @12gaugefalls
Bo Sinclair:
The opportunity you can meet him first time is your car broken, of course you can fix it yourself but you don't have tool and replacement parts, so you give up and try to find a place have single or have people can ask for help.
You heard the truck sounds near, you look toward the sounds source, a truck parked beside you "Do ya need help?" A man show a kind big smile ask "Can you drive me to the nearby gas station or something like that?" "Sure, Bo run a gas station in Ambrose." "Bo? Ambrose?" "Yea, just at nearby, I can drive you over." "Okay, I really thanks a lot!" You hop on the truck and sit at the passenger seat.
"Name Y/N, thanks for the ride." "Lester and no problem." "Is this your truck right?" "Yea." "I like it a lot it's Chevrolet C Series right?" "Yea, it is!" Then whole roads you keep talking about cars with Lester.
You arrived the gas station, when you get in you found a man are dealing with a truck now "Oh! Is this Jeep Cherokee XJ 1998?" The man stop and looked up to you "Sorry, I just very love car, I need to find a guy name Bo, is that you?" "Yea, I'm Bo, wha' can I help ya?" "Oh I need a fan belt, 16 inch." "Well, 16 inch at my house..." "Oh it's okay so we go to take it?" "Wait me finish diz." "sure, you need help?" "Help? Huh I can do it myself." When he dealing with the car you both keep chatting, when you talk about like you two find out you all like cars and guns these kind of stuff, then what Bo think? He might be attract a little, and look you beautiful so he specifically add more points at you, and keep a interesting person at Ambrose not too bad right? Also it's not the first time he keep a girl beside him, he must can control all things like usual.
You at his house front door, he decided keep you at Ambrose a few days to see it's good or not "Oops 16 inch fan belt run ou' you wanna keep her' a few day?" "If you don't mind." "Of cours' I won't mind keep a interestin' beauty beside." So when you stay at here mean you have more chance to more chat and more understand each other, and you feel bad about keep staying here but don't do anything so you help do the house work sometime you will go to the gas station help Bo to fix car and Bo think you very interesting and you have so many points like him so he keep find some excuse to keep you, of course you not silly so you know these all just excuse but you can't say you didn't be attract by Bo right? Plus Lester, Vincent and Jonesy like you too, you're very helpful and kind, so gradually you and him didn't talk about the fan belt thing...
Rusty nail:
Today your plan can finished your work then tomorrow you can go home and have a real rest, you feel very boring so you use the CB like usual, want to find a guy to talk let the road not that boring "Have anybody here?" Then you heard a deep voice "Hey." "This is Y/N how to call you?" "Rusty nail." "Want to chat?" "Sure." Then you try to find a topic talk with him, you both talk many things.
"I really hate some people pranks too over then call it just a 'joke' what a asshole." "Same." "Like one time a guy say if I prepare thing to designated place then he will consider date with me, then he freaking take advantage of my affection even make fun of me, I feel so shame." "It's oka'...one time hav' a guy name Candy Cane... play trick with me..." "Seem like we all be tricked." "Yea." Both of you just keep chatting to the night, you need to rest at the motel "Hey Rusty I gonna rest at the motel so maybe see you tomorrow?" "Sure." "Okay bye." Then you parked into the motel and ask a room to rest.
Next day come you wake up early because you want to go home as fast as you can, when you open the CB you heard a familiar sounds "Y/N?...Y/N?...Is Y/N here?...Who knows where Y/N?" "Morning Rusty nail! I just prepared to go on road." You heard he chuckles "Morning." "Today I plan to go home, I'm not sure next time we can meet again or not." "Well... Then cherish now." "You're right." Another joy ride pass, another bid farewell come.
In Rusty side, he never talk with someone so long on the CB and he still want to chat with you, he find out he want to more understand you and want to spend more time with you, chatting with you make him not that boring and feel very comfortable, so he ask other people about your information, of course include your next ride date.
You check the things all prepare ready, you ride on the road then open the CB "Seem like today it's a good day, everybody good?" "Yea... Good." When you heard the voice you unconsciously smile "Oh Hi Rusty nail, good to meet you again!" "Me too Y/N." Then you start chatting again, you both keep this about few months, you both all more understand each other, then you can't deny the truth that you obsessed with Rusty and Rusty can't deny he have feeling to you too. You decide take out your brave to ask him have a lunch with you then he accept, when you go to the restaurant that you both decided he haven't come, when you start worry about you be trick again he's voice appears "Y/N?" You turn to the sounds source, a huge male in front of you "Rusty nail?" "Yea it's me." "You come! I thought I be trick again... Shall we go in?" "Sure, pretty lady first." He open the door then let you walk in first, when you walk in you thank him, then you have a lovely lunch times, you both more hang out to have meal then more closer, finally you confess your affection to him then you both together, such a perfect couple, both are trucker can work together and use CB chatting, and so many points so similar... But you never will know he's killing secret, and you didn't know he already have a 'joy ride' with the guy who tricked and make fun to you...
#house of wax#house of wax (2005)#bo sinclair#bo sinclair x reader#joy ride 2#joy ride#joy ride 3#rusty nail#rusty nail joyride#rusty nail x reader#rusty nail joy ride 2
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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Fourteen
Rating: Explicit
Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen
Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.
Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm
no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3
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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen
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Author's Notes: Back from hiatus on April 26th! (Chapter 16 is just about polished and I finally made progress for chapter 17). I'm sending huge, huge thank you to my beloved beta and co-pilot, @vampire-exgirlfriend for all her love and support and kindness. There's been a lot of times that I've thought about stopping, about not continuing this story, about maybe just keeping it to myself. It's been her love and very aggressive 'that is DUMB' affection that has brought us close to the end of Arc I.
And a huge thank you to the people who have liked this story. I genuinely would love LOVE LOVE to hear your thoughts. In inbox is open, reblog and tag me, however you want to let me know that you're here <3
we are now entering the 'oh my god these too are so fucking into each other they want to fuck so bad it makes them look stupid' era
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Love the World Like I Should
Grandfather Rodrik shows up with love and gifts, and there's some smooching on the dance floor at Aegon's nameday feast. Also some political anxiety.
King’s Landing was filled to bursting in the days approaching Aegon’s nameday celebrations. Never had Abby seen so many people crush themselves into the Red Keep. ‘More will be at Harrenhal for the wedding’, Helaena had said, their small group seeking solace away from the gaggle of the court for a while. Baela had come with them, overwhelmed with the crush of noise herself, even if she did not admit it. The Princesses Targaryen, Abby, Wylla, little Floris, and Baela’s two ladies had all sought the quietest part of the gardens to hide from the increasingly aggressive attentions.
Now, though, Abby could not hide from the crush of people.
The Reyne retinue arrived in the early afternoon, and while an ancient and powerful house as theirs deserved their pomp, the familial presentation was for Rodrik Reyne, uncle to the Queen Alicent Hightower, and grandfather to the future Princess Abrogail Strong.
Grandfather to the potential future queen, as the whispers and rumors flew around the Red Keep with the coming celebrations. Rumors that Abby wasn’t sure would come to pass, but could not deny that the king’s wishes still might change. That was a future she wasn’t sure what to think about.
His hair was more gray than auburn, thick and wavy as if he were a man of twenty instead of near seventy. Lord Rodrik was tall and broad, an imposing figure on his gray and white courser, its fine white mane braided into little knots along the elegant arch of its neck. To see him and the king that was only feet away from her had a curl of unease snaking through her belly. To look at the king was to see a man wasting away, a man at death’s door. To see Rodrik Reyne dismount with fluid ease was to see a man who, while past the prime of life, clearly had so much left in him.
“Your Grace.” Lord Rodrik mounted the steps, arm clapped to his shoulder in the Westerland sign of fealty as he bowed. “It is good to see you in fine spirits, my king.”
“No finer time than to celebrate such a joyous occasion, Lord Rodrik,” the king said with a smile. Rodrik clasped Uncle Otto’s arm in a firm grip, pleasantries exchanged and his smile broadened as he bowed lower before Queen Alicent.
“You are the light of the seven, aren’t you, my dearest,” he complimented her, genuine to the core. The queen’s cheeks pinkened at the praise and she readily embraced her uncle, fingers grasping his arms.
“We are so glad you are here to celebrate, uncle,” she said. “I am pleased to see you in such fine health and I’m so sorry Aunt Dalla could not come.”
“It is a long journey and she is not as quick as she used to be. She was quite happy to stay back with Daerion and enjoy the children. I am their favorite, after all. It’s only fair that I give everyone else the opportunity to receive some attention.” Alicent blinked as she registered the joke, a chuckle spilling from her as her uncle pressed a kiss to her hand.
Aegon stood between his mother and Abby, and she felt more than saw him straighten up as Lord Rodrik turned his cool blue eyes on him. Age had not shrunk the man, and Lord Rodrik stood as tall as Uncle Otto, and though there was a far less threatening air to him, it made him no less intimidating. Aegon’s chin tilted up to meet the man’s eye and he inclined his head.
“It is good to see you, Lord Rodrik,” Aegon greeted, his voice polite and steady, when not two hours before, he’d been with her in the alcove behind the tapestry of Jonquil Drake frantic with nerves at meeting her grandfather. It seemed like the kisses she’d given him, as well as the growing bruise that was barely visible above the collar of his deep green damask doublet had not eased his worries. “I hope your travels were easy and without issue.”
The last time they’d seen any of the Reynes had been near a decade ago, at her mother’s funeral. They had spent time with her and her father at Harrenhal before coming down to King’s Landing to spend time with the queen and her children, and that event was entirely different than now.
“Good tidings on your nameday, nephew,” he returned with all the formality as if he were addressing him by princely title. “Our travels were well, and it’ll be good to be off the road for some time.” An expression of mischief danced in the pale gray-blue eyes of Rodrik as he assessed the prince before him, eyes catching on the bruise on Aegon’s neck and then glancing at Abby and the arm she had laced through his own. He raised a brow. “It would appear that your betrothal has made a man of you yet, my prince. I might even say you’ve grown an inch or two since I last saw you.”
Heat flushed through Abby’s face and Aegon’s own, his sputter brief and confused as the Lord gave him an amused look, as if he might ruffle his hair had Aegon been a decade younger. Instead, he gave another incline of his head before coming before Abby.
“You are most certainly taller than I last saw you,” he said, cupping her face in his gloved hands, the scent of horse and spice clinging to him as he kissed her forehead. Her hand slipped from Aegon’s arm to clutch at her grandfather’s crimson sleeves beneath his brown leather jerkin, warmth spreading through her chest at the gentle affection.
“Not much taller than this, I’m afraid,” she said, a light, awkward laugh. Her grandfather reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, where the rest of her hair hung in a long, simple braid down to the small of her back. He cupped her cheek, and she caught a shine in his eyes, a slow exhale as the familiar look of grief she knew well crossed his features, aging him in the moment. “I’m very glad to see you, grandfather.”
Rodrik Reyne nodded, pushing past the emotion before moving on to greet the rest of his nephews and niece, and she felt Aegon’s hand slide around her waist, fingers bunching slightly against the crimson and silver damask against her hip. She hid her hands in the belled sleeves, knotting them together and taking comfort from Aegon’s touch. Her chest ached painfully but she gave him a smile when he murmured her name.
“I am well,” she assured him, leaning into him momentarily before their party went inside, her grandfather speaking of the gifts he had brought for all of them.
Over the past days, it had been a bustle and flurry of becoming reacquainted with her grandfather, of suffering through her sister’s company. The apartments that she technically shared with her brother had served as the hub for the activity of their family. Houses Strong, Reyne, and Lannister moved in and out of the modestly decorated space. It had been overwhelming, but with the arrival of her grandfather, Cory’s acerbic tongue and judgmental looks had been averted, and Abby wondered if there was jealousy hidden beneath all that venom. She had fallen into her own acquaintance with the Queen, whom she had known when she’d served as one of Rhaenyra’s ladies when they were young.
Abby also had to organize the gifts brought from the Westerlands that would be sent back with Uncle Simon. Bolts of fine cloth of gold and silver from the expansive Reyne mines, a peregrine falcon, lovely cream and gray with black specks and bright black eyes she’d named Caelus. There’d been books too. A small chest carved with mountains and flowers contained five books, mostly from Myr, and some from Braavos, including what looked to be an interesting treatise from a Volantine woman who advocated for the importance of women’s contributions, and another on teaching woman to cultivate what she had determined as useful qualities, to achieve worthy acts in their lives.
‘A woman’s success,’ it read, ‘depends on the ability to manage and mediate by speaking and writing eloquently and effectively, for men so easily dismiss the thoughts of women, especially when their power is threatened by them.’
Perhaps she should look to promoting more copies of the sumptuously illustrated work. Perhaps she might even try her hand at replicating some of the images therein. There’s been a box of paints and new charcoal among the gifts, as well as a newly bound book for her to sketch in. Abby smiled at the idea, and had tucked it away for later.
“Mind the dress,” Wylla’s voice came from behind, already dressed for the feast and bossing about the red-clad maids of the holdfast who had been helping Abby as she worked to put together her household. Theraxis lay reclined along the end of the bed, his great yellow eyes watching the flurry of maids with such focus as if he too were supporting Wylla’s orders.
“Only a single lady?” Grandfather had balked, perceiving insult before she’d hurriedly cut in, explaining Wylla was more than enough, she did not want to be demanding, and hadn’t needed anyone else.
Wylla had snorted, eyes flashing in the familiar argument. “She’s meant to be looking for more ladies over the course of the festivities,” with all the same annoyance aimed at her as she had aimed at Aegon in the courtyard so long ago. “She needs six at least, but will she listen to me? Nay, she’s a wee stubborn thing and Lord Larys doesn’t seem to push it either.”
The gifts had not stopped there, and she was currently staring, wide eyed, at the most recent one.
The ornate wooden box before her was made of varnished rosewood, with inlays of silver decoration along the edges, and an equally delicate lock that her grandfather had carefully opened with a tiny silver key. The tiara that lay inside was fit for a queen. Ten citrine sunbursts wove together like flowers, the colors of them running from red to gold to orange and in the center of each, diamonds glittered. It sat in the center of the box, resting on a cloth of silver pillow and her mouth went dry.
“Th-this is too much. Grandfather…” Abby’s voice faltered and she lifted her gaze to meet his. Never had she felt so spoiled, so doted on. She felt guilt for it, the way it warred in confusing uncertainty. So long she had never asked for more, and it wasn’t as if Larys was a doting brother who snuck her sweets and trinkets the way Harwin had.
Her grandfather’s gaze was a mixture of annoyance, affection, and more that she did not understand. “It is most certainly not too much, dear child,” he said with a casual wave of his hand. Wylla slightly raised her eyebrows when he wasn’t looking and gently lifted the tiara from the box. “You are the blood of Castamere. You are my blood, my granddaughter,” he had said, cupping her cheek in a warm, rough hand and pressing a loving kiss to her brow. “The realm would do well to remember that you are a Reyne just as the queen is. It is not simply Hightower blood no matter how much my good brother likes to pretend.”
At least her grandfather was honest and she could not blame him for that. This was how the game was played. This was how power was brokered, even Abby understood the simple truth of it. Unlike most, Rodrik Reyne did not hide his motives, and the care that he expressed towards her since his arrival a few days ago had proven genuine. He did not ask her for favors, had inquired about her wellbeing and made sure she had what she was owed to her station.
Wylla’s nimble fingers had ensured the tiara was settled in her hair, twists of braids securing the citrine that matched her hair. The Riverlands style was one that she was glad not to give up and she would not have anyone thinking she was anything but the daughter of the rivers, and now a child of Castamere.
Her grandfather had escorted her down to the queen’s party. The king and her brother and uncle were already in the throne room and she could hear and feel the buzzing of growing anticipation as they approached the antechamber. Her hand rested in the crook of her grandfather’s elbow and her fingers spasmed with nerves. His hand found hers and she looked up at him, mouth parted as if to speak. He smiled at her instead.
“You look so much like your mother,” he said softly, his blue eyes misty and his smile warm. It took Abby aback. She had not seen the Lord Hand smile so openly and honestly. Larys barely smiled and when he did it made her wish to avoid it more often than not. The last man who smiled at her in such openness was her father. “She is here with us and she would be so proud of you.”
“Would she approve of this?” Abby asked softly. It was a silly question, the kind of question a motherless child who could barely remember her own mother asked. She could see the queen through the doorway at the end of the hall, hear Helaena’s laughter echoing along with Daeron’s.
Her grandfather paused and seemed to steel himself. The emotion was plain on his face. The grief was palpable and he did not meet her eyes as he composed himself. “Your mother was in the very fortunate position where I could let her choose who she wanted to marry. She could wait, and find a match that she got along well with. Lord Jason was a possibility, but even if your mother wanted to marry him, I couldn’t let her resign her future to a foppish imbecile like him, Lannister seat or not. She fell in love with your father and he did not demand heirs of her or money or prestige. He simply wanted someone to spend his days with and they found that in one another. That is what your mother wanted for you. A world where you were safe and loved.”
He cupped her cheek and Abby lifted her hand to hold his, feeling her own tears threaten. “The future has one certainty and there will be hard choices to make. Know that your family stands behind you, and that you may be a Riverlands girl, but there is a lion inside of you. They say in the north wolf packs survive together. You are part of a pride and are just as fierce. Dragons could not take the Westerlands and fire cannot burn the rivers.”
“He won’t burn me,” Abby said softly. “I trust him. I… care for him. I want him, not for a title, not for whatever the future may bring. I simply want him and he wants me and we just want to be happy. I think we can make each other happy, Grandfather.”
“Good,” he said and dropped his hand. “Then should the Stranger take me this night, it will be knowing you will be happy.” He gave her a watery laugh, amusement on his face. “And should he mistreat you, then I will haunt him to madness.”
When they entered the antechamber, Lord Rodrik pressed a kiss to her hand and went to join the rest of the gathering in the throne room. Helaena was in conversation with Daeron, and Aegon…
Aegon turned to look at her upon her entrance and his face went slack. She blushed, smoothing her hands over her gown, watching as the candlelight shimmered over the green and blue layers of the skirt, the fabric diaphanous, like currents of water around her legs. Her fingers found the golden dragons embroidered over her waist, intermingling with the glittering red weirwood leaves, worrying at the material. Her slippers were as gold as the dragons on her bodice, peaking out beneath her hem as she closed the distance between them. Aegon reached for her and she slid her hand into his and watched the smile spread slowly across his face.
‘I think we can make each other happy.’
Abby was not meant to be on Aegon’s arm as they entered the feast. He should have been escorting his mother as protocol dictated since King Viserys had entered the feast already. It was a heady feeling to know Aegon would not let her go, even as he was forced to drop her hand so she could tuck hers into the crook of his arm. A thrill that continued down her spine and coiled in her belly with the rest of the bursting butterflies dancing inside that gave her the strength to tilt her chin up as all her lessons instructed her to do. The perfect posture, the perfect gait all came rushing to her in a way that she finally understood why it mattered.
The pride that she felt wasn’t about being Queen Alicent’s pet project, or even that she had somehow snagged a prince for a betrothed. She was Lady Abrogail, heir to Harrenhal, the legacy of her mother’s fierceness and her father’s wisdom. As they walked behind the queen and Lord Otto, Abby squeezed her hand along Aegon’s bicep. She was the daughter of the Riverlands, and Aegon was lucky to have her, for there were many others that she could be with.
He looked at her with clear and bright eyes, the lilac full of mirth in a way she hadn’t seen from him in so long, and there were broad smile lines around his mouth, the flash of white teeth as he grinned at her. His hair was freshly washed, the silver curls gleaming gold in the sea of candleglow. His doublet was new as well - a fine, black silk brocade with a pattern woven in that evoked a shimmer of dragon scales. Golden clasps in the shape of dragon heads gleamed down the center. The seams were piped with red silk, and red silk trim embroidered with golden dragons wrapped around from the center and over his back. The same embroidered trim encircled his sleeves, which were slashed open along the back of his arms from bicep to the buttoned cuffs, the Targaryen red brocade of his shirt beneath poking through.
For the first time, he wore a crown upon his brow. It was a hammered circlet of gold that rested gently around his head, interspersed with seven circles stamped with dragons. Before the realm, he truly looked like the prince that he was.
A son who was celebrated by his parents.
She was lucky to have him. Let them see it. Let Queen Alicent see how brightly they made one another smile when they got to choose one another. Let them see she was not beholden to The High Tower, or to the Targaryens, or to anyone. Let them see that for all they may want to whisper about machinations and intrigue, she wanted him, and he wanted her.
Abby curtsied deeply before the king before they took their seats. Aegon was on his father’s left hand - the place of honor for the evening, and she was beside him. ‘How lucky we are’, came the thought again. She had not realized she had spoken the words aloud until Aegon’s grin widened into a beaming smile, his eyes crinkling with his own joy.
This was how the past weeks should have been. This is what the welcoming feast to Lord Tully and his party should have showcased: the two of them united, happy now, even as they set out to figure out what their marriage would be, what it would look like. There was enough time for that.
“You know, people like us don’t marry for love often,” Wylla had said, words that had stuck to her ribs.
The queen, her brother, and her uncle did not care for her and Aegon’s happiness, that much was startlingly clear to Abby. They had not come together in this betrothal by choice, but beneath the heart tree, they had made a promise. They had made their choice.
As her elder sister, Corynna, and her husband, Erwin Lannister sat beside her, Abby wished for the comfort of Wylla and Heleana at her side. The latter was at the other end of the table, and Abby’s gaze sought the friendly face of the young woman at the table below.
Wylla sat with Uncle Simon and Aunt Mya, looking striking in her black velvet gown. It was cut in the southern style, the neckline edged in white and silver cut across the line of her shoulders, her raven hair twisted into three rope braids woven with white ribbon and strung with pearls. She looked like a dream, Abby thought. A maiden of winter with all her pale skin and dark hair; striking in a way that many other women were not and Wylla wore it well. Harrion was beside her, his head inclined toward a lovely, red haired woman beside him. Wylla had said that his betrothed, Lady Alys Bracken, had only just arrived. She was so slight next to the northman’s bulk, her smile soft, eyes crinkling at the corners as she laughed at something he said.
Wylla caught her eye and sent her a warm, reassuring smile that Abby returned with a little wave, uncaring of decorum at the moment with how shaky her nerves were starting to get now that everyone was staring up at her. Her dear friend had not shied about her own discomfort in crowds, declaring her own relief that she was not the one who would be center of attention in her teasing, sharp yet fond way.
A harsh pinch against her left arm made Abby jump and she turned sharply to look at her sister, who was smiling serenely as if nothing was amiss. “Stop it, you’re behaving like a child,” she hissed behind a gritted smile. “I’ll not have you shame me.”
“If returning a kind gesture and a greeting to someone across the room is childish, then I cannot imagine you have many friends, Corynna, that do not cling to your skirts.” She smiled at her sister, whose saccharine falseness turned quickly to annoyance. “Do mind yourself, Cory. You are not my mother, nor my guardian.”
She caught the sidelong glance Aegon gave her and she felt his warm hand on hers, drawing it to his mouth to press a kiss against her knuckles. Abby felt the spray of heat along her throat, pressing her lips tightly together to keep from biting at her lip and being too obvious. He kept hold of her hand, thumb running lightly along her knuckles in familiar reassurance, and leaned in to speak softly against her ear.
“Lady Abrogail, if that’s the kind of behavior you plan on keeping up, as your husband, it shall be my duty to discipline you for such talk.”
Abby’s mouth went dry, her flush deepening and she glanced up at him, demure beneath her lashes. “Prince Aegon, you get ahead of yourself. I am the image of propriety.” He smirked and they both drew back. Abby reached for her goblet to calm the different sort of butterflies fluttering through her stomach now.
The echo of a staff cracking against the stone floor of the hall reverberated through the hall and all fell silent as the king rose, the queen beside him in what was meant to be a show of unity. But Abby knew that she was there to steady him so he did not have to rely on his cane. The black, red, and gold robe he wore nearly swallowed him whole, and she wondered how heavy it was for him.
Beside him, Alicent Hightower wore the colors of her house instead of a glow of green. She was as regal as Abby had ever seen, in a storm gray damask gown with white flame embroidery along her neck and shoulders. A cape of gray silk felt about her and the gray sleeves of her gown hugged her arms until they flared out at her forearms to bell around her wrists. Her auburn hair was twisted back on the sides of her head before coming to a single twisted braid down her back. Upon her head rested her crown of state. It was a gold circlet with seven points of golden flame rising from it and in the center flame was a blood red ruby that matched the gold and ruby earrings dangling beneath her hair.
“Be welcome,” the king said. His voice had rarely been a strong one, but he had found the strength behind it to let the words carry now. “It is good to see so many happy faces here, as we come together to celebrate my son, Prince Aegon’s nameday.” He turned his head to look down at Aegon with a nod and a gap toothed smile that, while fleeting, was genuine. The people clapped, thumps on tables shaking the cutlery, and Abby grinned at him. Aegon looked taken aback by the well tidings, the shouts of wishes for good health and good fortune. The hand that he had rested on her knee tightened and Aegon straightened in his seat, smiling back and giving a wave of thanks as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him.
The King continued, “The Queen and I also honor House Strong this night. Since my ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, landed upon these shores, the Strongs have been a leal and loyal house. Ser Osmund Strong himself was the longest serving Hand, and through the decades, this family has proved themselves time and again, their fealty to the throne and their dedication to the realm. It is why upon the passing of the beloved Princess Rhaena, that my grandfather, King Jaehaerys, bestowed the great Harrenhal to House Strong. It is this dedication that before he passed, our late Lord Lyonel Strong, the Seven keep him, agreed to a proposal. We welcome you all to celebrate with House Targaryen and House Strong as I announce the betrothal of our son, Prince Aegon, to the Lady Abrogail Strong, and their investiture as the future Lord and Lady of Harrenhal, under the wise and clement eye of Grover Tully, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands.”
The whispers of the betrothal had already snaked their way through the keep over the past weeks. First the servants gossip, then the unofficial talks among the lords who had, by now, sent ravens back home to their holdings in the Riverlands. It was news that had passed naturally among the realm, and while Abby did not see any surprised faces, the cheers that roared up took her by surprise. The slamming fists on the tables, the clapping, the shouts of well wishes and even some crass remarks was not at all what she had expected. She felt her cheeks burn and the flush of it snake across all the exposed skin of her gown. She yearned for the coverings of her linen gowns so none could see how red she had turned at the attention.
Yet, Abby did nothing to hide how large her smile was, so wide it nearly hurt. She met Aegon’s eyes, his own grin crinkling the corners of his eyes, and she never, ever wanted to see him frown again if this was how bright his smile could be. He then looked at the crowd and she followed suit, waving at the smiling faces, blowing a kiss of thanks to all. She did not startle when Aegon lifted his hand from her knee to tuck beneath the fall of her curls and rest along the back of her neck in a possessive gesture that made her belly roil with heat. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and saw that his bright smile had set into something darker, more firm.
The feast began, servants coming out of the shadows. Trenchers of roast pork in red wine and plum sauce were placed before them, steaming with scents of ginger and cinnamon. Shrimp cooked in fennel and white wine steamed from large platters, boiled eggs cut and stuffed with fragrant cheese and herbs nestled among salads of other fresh herbs and greens. Abby gasped, admiring the hollowed out Stormland lemons with glistening pieces of Dornish blood oranges and lemon sticky with sugar dotted the table in pops of bright, delectable color.
Aegon was eagerly filling his plate with the roast pork he so adored, and she reached for one of the sour orange treats, popping a sticky piece of fruit into her mouth and hoping it calmed the knot of nerves that were growing insistently.
“They certainly spared no expense,” Corynna’s voice was soft at her side. Abby glanced over at her sister who was commenting on the wine being poured to her husband. Her sister was as beautiful as she was sharp, resplendent in the colors of House Lannister, a ruby red gown that set off her golden skin, and an overdress of golden silk. Her brunette curls were tamed and pulled back into a low bun at the base of her neck, encased in a jeweled net of gold and rubies, a heavy lion pendant hanging from her throat. She decided not to engage with her sister’s low commentary, for it was exactly what she wanted, and instead busied herself on the treat in front of her.
“Here.” Abby glanced at Aegon, who held his fork up with a piece of pork. She opened her mouth to decline, and he popped the piece in with that dangerous smirk flashing across his mouth before going back to his food. It was good, the spark of ginger cutting through the sweetness of the plum. It had also served to get her mind off the fact that they were eating at the head table, and she let her gaze drift, ignoring her sister’s tut of disapproval.
Abby caught Baela looking at them curiously. She was beautiful that evening in the colors of her mother’s house. The aquamarine gown was cut in the Pentoshi style like the previous one she wore to their family dinner, with a deep v cut into the bodice and the layers of fabric pinned like a chiton at her shoulders. On her head she wore a silver tiara shaped into the heads of seahorses with matching gemstones for their eyes. Abby gave the princess a small smile. “You look lovely tonight, Princess. I am truly glad to have you here and I look forward to us getting to know one another.”
Baela’s violet eyes narrowed somewhat at being addressed, and Abby felt Aegon shift beside her as he honed in on the conversation. “May your futures be bright and happy, Lady Abrogail. Cousin.”
“Thank you, cousin,” Aegon replied with his tight smile. “Perhaps it will be your nuptials we’ll be celebrating next.” The words were friendly, at least somewhat so. Abby suppressed a sigh, but knew it was at least a small win. Baela did not seem to mind sitting next to Daeron, for the pair of them had fallen into a discussion about their dragons and how Tessarion had fared in Oldtown. “I heard Mother wondering if her and Jace will wed next.”
Jacaerys.
Abby chanced another look at the incredibly awkward end of the table. There was the queen, then Lord Otto, then Larys, and then… Aemond, Helaena, and Jace. The three of them were utterly silent, like mimes in a play, and it was hard to tell what made it worse: the fact that Aemond and Jace had ended up wearing near matching doublets that evening, or the sapphire sun that was Helaena between them.
Aemond and Jace and Baela should have been separated, but Jace could not sit next to her, for the rumors that would cause and so poor Helaena was stuck as the wall to separate them.
She looked every inch the beautiful princess from a song. Her silver hair hung loose and free down her back with four braids keeping her hair from her face. The twists wound themselves into the silver tiara she wore, the sapphires winking out like stars from the woven metal strands that took the place of her usual braid. Her gown was diaphanous silk, her shoulders bared. The sleeves were a light blue and the sheer fabric hugged her arms. The gown went from a lovely sky blue to a deeper shade of twilight along the hem, and the silver embroidery evoked silver flames dancing across the gown. She wore the colors of Dreamfyre, dragonrider that she was, the princess of House Targaryen that did not need to evoke her house colors to state her place in the world.
The look on her face was blank and somewhat wide-eyed, focused on the shrimp in front of her. Abby’s heart ached, wanting to go to her and get her out of the situation she was in, but there was nothing for it. Helaena already grew anxious with crowds and she didn’t need the extra stress of being caught between two petulant looking boys.
Jace tilted his head towards her, saying something that drew a small smile from Helaena, and the knot of worry eased slightly.
The course was cleared away, the minstrels along the side gallery merrily playing songs from each of the realms present there today. Currently it was a Westerlands tune, fewer drums than the melodies of the Crownlands, and Abby caught Lord Tyland’s head bobbing to the music from his place at his twin brother’s side.
The next course was brought out and it was the largest pie Abby had ever seen, along with pottage of wild hare and cabbage, roasted lamb smelling of caraway and fennel and thyme. There was roasted chicken in orange glaze. Her gaze returned to the pie. It was as big as a wagon wheel, the pastry crust browned and caramelized and surrounded by many smaller pies like a crown. The crusts were slivered all around and gilt in gold along the top, and she could smell the saffron and cloves. They were stuffed to the bursting with more eggs and mixed meats and smelled delicious, but Abby’s stomach was knotted with nerves combined with the heady twist of arousal that pulsed every time Aegon’s knee bumped hers, or the way he’d tap his fingers upon her wrist to make sure she was alright.
Aegon inclined his head towards her, waving the servant away and pushing his plate between them. “You’re not eating. We’ll share.” He even pressed his goblet into her hand, taking hers and sipping from it in such an intimate gesture that Abby’s nerves were utterly forgotten about in that moment. She took a sip from his goblet, unsure of what to say. Aegon raised an eyebrow at her. “Eat,” he ordered and she knocked her slippered foot against his boot.
“You’re eating enough for the both of us, Prince. I couldn’t possibly keep up with you.” His appetite was a voracious one, and the plate he’d pushed between them had already started inching back towards him. She stabbed a piece of meat and gave him a look as she ate. He looked only somewhat abashed and popped a piece of crust in his mouth, licking juice from his fingers. She was reminded of the lakeside picnic, and the way his lips felt against her fingers while she fed him, the blushing heat as he fed her cakes in return and the kisses shared.
It must have shown on her face because a wicked gleam flashed across his eyes, gaze drifting to the low neckline of her gown and the gentle swell of her breasts. A voracious appetite indeed. He laughed when she busied herself with her goblet.
“Everyone is staring,” she whispered, unsure if she was chastising him or reminding him. Aegon’s gaze raked along the bare expanse of her shoulders, his hand twitching along his stolen goblet as if he was keeping himself from reaching for her again.
“Of course they are, hunītsos. Let them. Let them see how happy you look.” His gaze grew uncertain for a moment and she understood what words he held back.
“How happy you make me,” she offered softly. It was finally Aegon’s turn to blush, the expression uncharacteristically shy, and Abby could not help but lean over to brush a soft kiss against his cheek. Satisfaction was bright in her chest when his blush deepened before his own satisfaction crossed his features.
Let them witness. Let Edmund Vance and whatever moody River Lord conspired against them see that Aegon was hers, claimed by the rivers.
“Prince Aegon,” Erwin called halfway through the following course - mutton and stag and boar drenched in plum and wine sauces, brown sauces, and surrounded with dates and figs. The youngest Lannister brother was a gleaming gold lion, square faced with bright green eyes. He was not lanky as Lord Tyland nor as haughty as Lord Jason. He was a third son, bred for battle, and while he did not appear to cross swords with her sister, Abby wondered if that was a battle he had no desire to engage in. “I hear you’ll be participating in the melee on the morrow. Do you wield a morning star like Ser Criston, then? Or perhaps a battle ax?”
Corynna tutted, leaning back with exaggeration so her husband might speak. “It was only a matter of time before we talked swords.”
“The Prince is admirable with his sword skills, Erwin,” Abby piped up proudly before Aegon could speak, her turn to boast of him as he had done for her.
Aegon’s hand rested along the back of her chair as he leaned over with a grin on his face. “Some could say. It’ll either come down to skill or my lady’s favor, should she grant me. Mayhaps I’ll have the good fortune of meeting you in the ring?”
“Everyone knows the joust is where one proves themselves,” Baela cut in.
“Prince Daemon was quite impressive with his blade in the last tourney I saw him in, just as he was with a lance,” Erwin said with ease and a smile. “All the bouts require their own skills and strength.”
The conversation of the small tourney for tomorrow kept on, with Daeron joining in. Abby ignored her sister’s displeased muttering and her husband did as well. Perhaps that’s how the peace was kept in their household.
As the dessert course came out, those in attendance began to move about the room. No doubt they were eager to speak of the confirmation of what had been announced, judging by all the gazes that flitted in their direction. There were her favorite strawberry and cream cakes just out of reach, but she found that she had no appetite for the rich confection with the nervous energy building. Instead, she snagged a piece of marchpane dragon off Aegon’s piled plate of treats. He playfully snapped at her as if he was going to bite at her hand before handing her a marchpane crown without comment.
She leaned towards Aegon, brushing his ear and delighting in how he shivered at the contact. Her fingers tapped against his arm. “I’m going to speak to Wylla.”
He reached up to snatch at her wrist. “Stay,” he murmured, eyes searching her face. Don’t leave me alone next to him, she knew he was asking. Abby shook her head.
“We have to mingle, Aeg, We can’t sit up here all night.” He rolled his eyes and Abby tutted. “Go rescue Helaena.”
Aegon glanced down at the miserable end of the table and they spied Gwayne having come up, a hand braced on Aemond’s shoulder as he spoke to Larys and his father. “I’m surprised Aemond hasn’t stabbed him yet,” Aegon muttered and gave a nod. “Is this to be our duty now, my lady?”
Abby scrunched her face up in amusement and took his offered hand to rise from her chair. “Aye, it shall be, my lord. Save me a dance.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and they parted, Aegon going to join his uncle and siblings at the end of the table. She tilted her head, admiring him as he walked from her before heading towards Baela.
When Abby looked at Baela, she was reminded by the statue of Visenya that Aemond favored so in the gardens, or the tapestries that hung in the upper levels of the gallery: women who rode the skies with braids twisted into their long hair, the fierce and determined looks on their faces showing their command of the world. Targaryens were the closest one came to gods in Westeros. This fact Abby had grown with all her life. Everyone in Westeros did. She saw how the smallfolk clamored for the affections and attentions of the dragonriders during parades, the furrowed brows of the septons who disliked the competition to the Seven.
“Princess,” Abby gave the other a bright, welcoming smile. “Come with me, I have someone to properly introduce you to.” There was deference in her tone that Baela was owed, but Abby also clung to the reminder that she was to be a princess too. They would be equals in a few months, and the Queen wanted her to grow accustomed to this fact.
Baela, her lovely, violet eyes narrowed in her direction, seemed to have other ideas. Abby had asked Helaena the other evening what it was that Baela had said in Valyrian, and the princess had only said that she should not worry, for she did not believe Baela would speak so carelessly in the future. The other woman held her gaze, assessing in the way Abby was sure her dragon, Moondancer, would assess and Abby swallowed past the lump of nerves beneath the gaze. She realized after a moment that it was one of uncertainty. It had initially felt hostile - which considering whatever Valyrian she’d spoken upon arrival had been clearly hostile, it made sense - but it had also become clear that the princess was uncomfortable and therefore more judgemental, Abby thought, than she might normally be. At least, Abby hoped that was the case.
“You have people to introduce me to, Lady Abrogail?” The disdain was not obvious, and Abby wondered if this was what it meant to be unaccepted by the Valyrians. The family had kept to themselves since the landing. She had studied the Targaryen family tree in her studies and knew how rarely they married out of the houses. ‘The blood of the dragon must remain pure’, was stated when they’d learned about the Doctrine of Exceptionalism that allowed the practice of incest, and outlawed the multiple wives that The Conqueror and King Maegor had taken.
Would Aegon have wanted multiple wives? Would he have wanted someone more Valyrian to make him feel closer to his heritage? The curious thought flitted through her mind, and Abby felt a stab of jealousy at the idea of such a scenario, along with an uncertainty she couldn’t quite identify, but similar to the feeling of otherness that she found herself experiencing among the company of the other Riverlanders.
“I do. I hope, very much so, that your time here in the capital will be as comfortable as possible. I understand that it must be quite the change from Dragonstone, and the company of the rest of your siblings.” Baela said nothing at first, lips pressed in a thin line before looking down the table. Abby followed her gaze.
Jace and Helaena had a series of tarts and other confections in front of them, and Helaena was laughing brightly at the marchpane tentacles rising from a plum tart. Jace plucked one of them, slathered in cream to take a bite, offering the piece to Helaena who shook her head in amusement and reached for one of the candied lemons.
Aegon had pulled his brother away with a firm grip on his shoulder and the pair of them had headed towards the floor, goblets in hand with heads bowed towards each other. They were accompanied by some of the other young men at court; the Fossoway boys, Ser Leo Costayne, brother to Lord Owen, and their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, heir to the Oldtown seat.
Ser Leo was the eldest at over twenty, his almond eyes from his mother’s Lyseni heritage striking with the silver hair of Valyria that spread across the empire. He had already earned the title of The Sea Lion, the West taking pride in their own fierce seafarer as House Velaryon did with The Sea Snake, Lord Corlys. Little Floris had found him handsome, blushing when her avid gaze had been pointed out by Helaena. Abby had found herself readily agreeing.
At four and ten, Lyonel was as tall as Aemond with the promise to be taller, with the same cut cheekbones Abby could see was a Hightower feature, while Alicent, Aegon, and Helaena shared the soft roundness of their Reyne mother. His skin was swarthy from his Dondarrion mother, a contrast with his lighter brown hair. Her eyes drifted to the group of ladies, colors of the Reach and Westerlands in their clothes, and how they clearly were eyeing Prince Aemond, who was doing his best to pretend to be above it.
Far better for their attention than that of Cassandra Baratheon, who was stoically sitting by her heavy set father, face flushed with wine and quietly hissing at his eldest daughter. An unbidden pang of sympathy pulsed through Abby’s heart at how unhappy the other woman looked, momentarily overriding her displeasure.
Abby turned her gaze back to Baela, whose own eyes were sweeping the mass of people before them. She wondered if the rumor was true of a possible betrothal between Jacaerys and Baela, the future king and queen of the realm. Dragonriders both, in the Targaryen ways of old like Aegon and his wives, like King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. She wondered if it had happened already and was simply unannounced, Rhaenyra waiting for the most opportune moment. Or perhaps the pair were simply siblings, mayhaps promises made out of stubborn pride. Would that explain Baela’s disdain for them? Did she see them as interlopers in a place that she considered her birthright by conquest and the Valyrian blood flowing through her?
Baela finally rose, fluid and graceful and confident in all the ways that Abby still found it difficult to be. The other woman stood a few inches taller - not a difficult feat by any means, but Abby was envious of the graceful turn of her neck. She was reminded of the descriptions of Visenya: comfortable in silks as she was in armor. What a sight the other would make upon dragonback with a war cry tearing from her. How confident Baela Targaryen was;in her sense of self, her place in the world, in all that made her Valyrian.
It struck Abby then how she did not feel like a child of the Riverlands no matter what she claimed. It felt as if she were spinning falsehoods into a cloak to shroud herself in, to distract from her own sense of confusion. As they approached the closer table where her Uncle Simon sat with the Brackens, listening to the conversation blend before her in the lilt and familiar cadence of the Riverlands, Abby found herself feeling like an outsider. It had not quite been like this at the welcoming feast those weeks ago, where they spoke the language of the capital. Her mother tongue had been one lost to her over the years since her father died, relegated to the dinner table and bedtime stories, of ephemeral memories of lullabies long sung. To hear Wylla’s own northern brogue share in the words of Old Tongue falling in a similar harmony, panic settled in Abby’s chest to find that she couldn’t quite keep up with the words exchanged.
The panic was frozen when Wylla turned her head, and all at the table gave move to rise and give their courtesies to Princess Baela. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw Baela shift a little, felt the whisper of silks brush against her. “This is Lady Wylla Karstark, from Karhold,” Abby introduced, her voice coming out higher than she intended as she forced past the lump in her throat. Wylla rose, nodding to her brother who was also getting up to speak with some of the other lords.
“Princess Baela, I hope you’re enjoying the festivities.”
Baela inclined her head but said nothing.
“She is my dearest friend and also far from home. Also quite the archer.” Abby reached for things that Baela might find intriguing and welcoming, hoping her instincts weren’t wrong.
Wylla shook her head slightly. “You are too kind, Lady,” she lightly teased with the use of the title.
Baela’s head cocked, the tinkling of the silver charms in her hair soft among the din of the room. “My, all that snow and ice. It’s a wonder you do not melt beneath the dragon’s heat,” Baela said and the challenge was clear in her voice.
Wylla smiled in her sharp way, ever the winter fox. “As a daughter of fire and sea, I would assume you to be well acquainted with contradictions. One must burn hot to survive the cold.”
Baela actually smiled at that and Abby took the chance. “Wylla is a far better archer than I, Princess. I hear you yourself are well acquainted with the bow.” Wylla’s storm gray eyes flitted to her and Abby did everything she could not to shift awkwardly beneath her friend’s gaze. Not in this dress, and not with the sunburst tiara that graced her head. Instead, she grinned back at her. The princess merely glanced back at her before shifting closer to Wylla.
“Do you hunt, Lady Wylla? I hear there’s to be a hunt later this week and I do so miss hawking…”
Abby released a soft breath, pressing a grateful squeeze to Wylla’s shoulder before moving on to her aunt and uncle. Her cousin, Gareth, had stayed behind at Harrenhal, and she had fuzzy memories of her Aunt Mya. The older woman was plump and warm, brushing a soft kiss with a greeting. The din of the throne room grew louder as the meal came to an end, servants dashing between the party goers, removing plates and replacing carafes of wine and small foods for guests to continue to indulge in. The music shifted to a more lively fair and the dance floor quickly filled with eager revelers.
Lythene Ryger of Willow Wood had drawn her into the shy gaggle of maidens who were standing expectantly along the edge of the dance floor, trading glances across the room at the lords and Abby had noticed the looks they’d thrown in Aemond’s direction. Lady Lythene was five and ten, soft featured with honey brown eyes, her strawberry blonde hair woven with strands of river pearls in the common half knot coil that was common in the Riverlands.
“If Lord Yorick were here, none of these men would have a chance to win tomorrow,” Melony Piper said, all dark hair and more freckles than one could count. “My sister says he was the most fearsome knight not so long ago.”
“Psh,” Lythene rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows Ser Gwayne is a force to be reckoned with. Besides, Lord Yorick never leaves Runestone and if he did, Lord Borros would throw a fit.” She looked smug with the knowledge imparted and whatever look on Abby’s face seemed to spur her on. She leaned in. “Lord Yorick is married to Lord Borros’ younger sister with a son of their own. Should Lady Elenda not have a son, it’s said his sister may push one of her son’s claims to Storm’s End.”
As one, their eyes swiveled in the direction of Cassandra Baratheon, perfectly coiffed, and everything the daughter of a Lord Paramount would be. Raven hair wild as storm clouds around her bare shoulders, her golden dress sparkling in the dancing torchlight with an opal the size of Abby’s fist nestled in the hollow of her throat. Abby’s hands twitched, smoothing over the cloud of blue and green silk organza, the golden dragons and weirwood leaves embroidered over her bodice.
A warm hand touched her wrist and Abby met the gentle, honey eyes of Lythene, who smiled up at her. “Tá cuma álainn ort, a bhean,” she said softly while the others tittered. It took Abby a moment to register the words, “you look beautiful, my lady”, and Abby smiled shyly.
“Go raibh maith agat,” she thanked her and Lythene bit her lip as if holding back a chuckle.
“Agat,” she pronounced softly, the inflection different. “A little closer to got, and less like goat.”
Her cheeks burned and she repeated it softly and Lythene took her hand, squeezing it. “I can’t imagine you get to practice with many people here in the South,” she laughed, a tinkling like bells that drew the attention of other men.
“I haven’t. I’m looking forward to getting to speak it more, but I can’t get that sort of practice teaching Aeg- Prince Aegon.”
“You mean he’s actually going to try learning our tongue?” came the aggressive disbelief of Lady Melony. “Targaryens aren’t ones to debase themselves so.”
Lythene opened her mouth but Abby cut in, a frown slashed across her face. “Aegon is a Targaryen and a Hightower, a family that traces their lineage and impact to before the First Men, some say.” She tilted her head, exhaling softly and shook her head. “The Targaryens may be above us due to the gifts of the dragon, but you can be assured that Prince Aegon will take his duties seriously.”
She was reminded of the words Edmund had sneered at her, of how none would trust a dragon coming into the Riverlands and it was foolish to think so. Lythene said nothing, watching her curiously while Melony Piper’s bright green eyes narrowed somewhat, thin mouth pursed. Abby’s grandmother had been a Piper, which made the two of them kin.
Seven and the Old Gods help her if Aegon did not live up to her promise, but Abby trusted that he would. That he would, at the very least, try.
Melony opened her mouth to speak again but murmurs danced through the crowd, attention towards the dance floor. Abby looked over her shoulder in surprise.
Jace led Helaena by the hand to the crowd of dancers as the next song started, fingers touching as they circled around one another. She was a glittering, blue dragon amidst the crowd, hair like mercury as it flowed around her. Helaena loved to dance and the joy was obvious on her soft features, Jace’s own smile a shy one, his broad frame more obvious as he circled around her. Not as tall as Aemond, but Jace would grow taller yet.
“Well,” Melony’s attention had changed. “That’s an interesting development.”
Abby’s eyes instinctively cut to the queen where she sat at the King’s right, a slight furrow to her brow, and the Lord Hand beside her, his attention also on the pair dancing. A fond smile cut across Otto Hightower’s face as Helaena laughed when Jace spun her, and Abby wasn’t at all sure what to make of it.
Helaena looked happy, though, and that was all that mattered.
Abby startled at the feeling of a warm hand stroking against her elbow and Aegon’s laughter was soft as he stroked his fingers down her arm in a way that had goosebumps flaring across her skin. His fingers twined with hers and the ladies around her bobbed curtsies, murmuring My Prince and Your Grace.
“You all look like you’re having so much fun here, but I must steal my betrothed away,” Aegon said, his voice light and amused, in his element as the center of attention and even more dangerous without drink to cloud his senses. Abby felt the heated flush creep along her throat when Aegon tugged her into him. “I promised you a dance, didn’t I, Lady Abrogail?”
Lythene looked amused, Melony uncertain and Abby turned under Aegon’s arm so that she was facing him. “You did, my Prince. Thank you for the conversation, Lady Lythene, Lady Melony,” she thanked as Aegon began tugging her away. “It was good to meet you.”
Everything else drifted away when Aegon pulled her into his arms. The contrast to the last time they’d danced together was palpable. There was no anger between them, no confusion, no fear. He twirled her as he drew her into the space as if he were showing her off, her skirt flaring around her, rippling greens and blues like the rivers of her home, the candlelight glimmering along the golden threaded dragons on her gown, and the citrine bursts along her tiara. When Aegon pulled her into him, she could feel the heat of his body barely pressed against her, the flush of it coursing through her with every hammering beat of her heart.
“I wish we were somewhere more quiet,” Abby murmured to him as they turned around one another, clapping their hands before reaching for each other again. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Aemond tugging Wylla on the floor, her friend caught between surprise and a pleased flush along her cheeks. Abby would have to tease her later, in return for how merciless Wylla had teased her.
“Do you?” Aegon asked, grinning at her, eyes full of heat. “We could, you know. It is my nameday.”
“We’ll be caught, and I’d rather your mother not find us,” she chuckled, spinning away from him to turn around Lord Tyland, who smiled down at her indulgently while Aegon politely moved around Lady Johanna Westerling, Tyland’s goodsister and dance partner. Her gaze kept pulling back to Aegon whenever they were separated in the dances, and when they came back together, there was an ache in her chest that she could not identify. Relief? Want? Longing?
Everything?
“Remind me to get you a map of the tunnels,” he murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss against her temple and she couldn’t help the bubbling of giggles that escaped her. Aegon looked incredibly pleased with himself, and as the next song started, he pulled her closer to him, hands possessive on her hips as he lifted her in the air and spun her around.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked. Then it clicked. “What, so I can sneak to your room?”
Aegon winked at her. “Clever girl.”
“I try.”
As Abby turned, her eyes caught on the furious, dark gaze of Edmund Vance across the hall, accompanied by Lord Piper and some of the other River Lords. Abby blanched, the joy she had felt abating like water on a fire at the ugly look in his eyes. So distracted, she was, that she stumbled her steps of the complicated dance, nearly falling had Aegon not pulled her to him in time. She saw his gaze follow hers, his own smile morphing into a hard look.
“I’ve taken care of it.” Abby didn’t understand, trying to find the steps again without ruining the entire dance, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Aegon’s hand brushed soothing along her arm, his other hand warm on her waist and giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Focus on me, eyes on me, hunītsos.” His voice was gentle and firm all at once, quiet and earnest and Abby focused on the sound of it, her gaze finding his, softened now. “Aemond saved me from making a scene, but I’ve handled it.” He tilted his head. “I don’t need to take his hands.”
Abby struggled to find words, a strange and unfamiliar thrill coursing through her that she could not examine too closely in the moment. “And what have you decided to take instead?”
As the dance came to a close, Aegon reached up to cup the softness of her cheek, tilting her head back with his thumb on her lower lip. He leaned in, mouth brushing against hers, and the vow he made was full of promise.
“His pride,” he murmured, and kissed her in front of the realm to seal it.
What was your favorite moment of the chapter? What's something you're looking forward to? Any fun theories!? I'd love to hear your thoughts on what you're enjoying about Maiden and any curiosities you might have! And if you're not sure what to say, just a kind reblog with a heart or something would be lovely <3
[Chapter Fifteen]
#fic: the maiden and the drowning boy#aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii targaryen fic#aegon ii targaryen fanfic#aegon targaryen#aegon x oc#aegon ii targaryen x oc#hotd#hotd fic#hotd fanfic#house strong#aegon x abby#my fics
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Lil (long) simblr gratitude day post
I wanted to make a post shouting out some of my favorite creators, storytellers, and just general simmers from over the last year, mainly focused on ts4 since that's where my attention has been the most. Long post ahead so it's going under a cut. If you're not tagged please know I did wake up late today so it's not as complete of a list as I wanted it to be!!
@adelarsims - You are an essential in my mods folder!! I love how much realism and/or character your cc adds to sims, from things like the piercing holes to the wonky glasses to the mechanic overlay... Just so many little things that I can't imagine not having in my game or on certain characters now. Speaking of characters, your sims both original and premade are always so gorgeous, and I really enjoy your interpretations of wg and jeb. & Thank you for being WCIF friendly, I know it takes time to get that info but it's so appreciated, u've help me find some very beloved pieces of CC. Also the level of dedication u have to organizing your mods folder is incredible and you've inspired me a lot to get my folder's act together finally!! Which is SUCH a QoL improvement
@bearphase - I adore the bright legacy and I admire all the little details and effort you put into your posts, like fixing clipping issues, making icons and templates for custom careers or story events, ur creativity really shines through. You've also reminded me how fun NSB can be and inspired me to get back to it and my human enough gameplay and I can't thank u for that enough, it's got me sooo excited for future simming endeavors
@daisydezem - You've been a welcome addition on my dash back since POSE, which was a fantastic first community experience for me and so much fun, & I love your gameplay & love how much work u put into rainbowsin! (I adore Venus so much btw!!) I hope you're healing well and that u have a lovely new year!!
@divinedionym - CLAIRE!!! I was SO happy to see you dipping your toes back in the community I missed you on my dash! and while I adored ur vatores and their story and ur an incredible storyteller, I'm glad you've been able to pivot into something more enjoyable for u. I hope you have lots of fun in the coming year and I can't wait to see what Aspen gets up to… or into… especially with his vampire BF. Aside from that idk if you'll ever wanna run another sims server, but I did want to give you a late shoutout and props for that bc I know from experience it can be difficult and I really loved how you ran yours! I could just be an anxious bitch but I feel like its so hard to find comfortable servers.... and esp the storytellers one was so cozy and helpful, and ur management of it was *chefs kiss* I've also really enjoyed it every time we've talked, tho I'm sorry I'm so shy 😭😭
@earthmoonz - LONG TIME MUTUAL ALERT ….. ur sims are always so gorgeous. Love the Devereauxs and... Max and Lena… WOO. I support womens and nonbinary rights. and wrongs. Wifey has been SO good and I'm pumped to see where the rest of the story goes. U have a natural talent for storytelling and I really appreciate how much care u put into your characters. Everyone read wifey today rn
@hauntedtrait - Another mutual I enjoy every time I see you on my dash!! Your Lilith is drop dead gorgeous but honestly so many of your sims are. I love ur premade makeovers and Dakota is sooo pretty I'm obsessed. I can't wait 2 see who he ends up with! :]
@horusmenhosetix - I love seeing u on my dash and every time we've talked has been so lovely!! There's been so many times you've made me want to jump back into my projects for ts2 or even go back to ts3 once I have the space to download it. I love your s2cc and god ur sims …. its been a year but I still smile whenever I think about the vatore siblings you shared jhskfdh they're so perfect its got me inspired to throw together an s4 save whenever I get my mods folder sorted. & I'm so excited to go thru ur downloads tag and fill that baby UP with ur stuff next time I work on that !!!!!!!!
@myshunosun - One of my favorite CC creators, pretty sure my folder has all of your stuff in it bc I couldn't help myself. Always impressed with the quality and I love the variety. Thank u for sharing such incredible work with us!
@nucrests - I downloaded a lot of ur cc more recently but MY BOYS!!! U'VE CLOTHED MY BOYS!!! You make such good quality content and I'm always a huge fan of those that help me give my male sims some flair and style, thank u! :')
@oshinsimblr - Long 1 incoming... While I've never been a sims 4 hater, like a lot of people I've still struggled with the gameplay aspect of this iteration, so it's been really inspiring to watch how you go about your game and immerse yourself in it, see all the care you put into your sims. I have to thank you for the videos you've made on it, like the one on how to make sims you connect to, season 1 of Lovesick where you went basically vanilla with the specific intent to show people how much you can do with imagination and what that looks like in gameplay! It's been literally game-changing for me lol and helped me to have more fun with my saves, even if they're not one of the rare few that starts out off the rails, I get more enjoyment playing it out until things do start happening outside of my control.
& YOUR CC RECS!! I've downloaded so many of the mods you've recommended and I love how much they fill out the game. On the topic of Lovesick, I have not been able 2 get enough!! I'm so hooked lmao. Watching this series has really taken me back to the days when I was a teen reading like those particularly juicy drama-filled sims 3 stories you can't help but to keep clicking "next page" on, except Lovesick is so solid writing-wise. SO excited to see where Lizbeth is going in her life!!
@simandy - Your hairs have been an essential in my CAS folder for so long, and I've been so impressed with the evolution of your creations over the years. I've always liked your work but GODDAMN the quality always blows me away these days!! & I really, really adore and appreciate the variety!
@squea - ANOTHER SORT OF LONG ONE BUT ... Your sims just POP!!! SO much character, and your edits and art r phenomenal. Corn is one of my favorite little digital guys I've had the pleasure of experiencing on line in all my years in the sims community reading stories and gameplay. If Cornelius has a million fans I am one of them. If Cornelius has ten fans I am one of them. If Cornelius has no fans I am no longer on the earth. If world against Cornelius, I am against the world. So on and so forth
TBH you've also helped me have a lot more fun with the sims 4 talking about how you enjoy your game, and have a healthier mindset about my place in the community and connect back with the reason I made this blog in the first place, which was just to have fun and archive something I love, regardless of whether it got any attention or not! I started going MIA a bit post 2019 after really getting involved in the community, for Life Happens reasons, and naturally the lack of consistent posting for a while meant less eyes on whatever I came back to share. For a while I let that discourage me esp when a lot of effort was put into something, but after you posted about just genuinely enjoying ur game and loving what you made regardless of notes it made me realize what I was doing and helped me get back to that state of mind. Now whatever I make gets to matter simply because it matters to me, even if I post it at like 3am bc I'm so excited and no one ever sees it bc of that DHKDHKHSD. & I feel like I have u to thank for that!! U turned da lightbulb on
@thefoxburyinstitute - I could not make a gratitude post without forgetting to include the foxbury institute!! I've been messing around more with making CC the last couple of months and your blog has been so incredibly helpful, and I highly recommend everyone interested in creating or just wanting to maintenance and mend their mods folder a bit check them out!
@tricoufamily - YOUR RENDERS ARE SO GORGEOUSSS and I love your take on the Villareals. I never ran into the original story so I'm really excited tbh to see whats up ur sleeve... also I love everything you've shared about two headed lamb so far, so eerie and offputting in the best way. Also everyone read this is the fall here
@void-imp I know we just followed each other a few days ago but ur trio is SO CUTE!!!!!!!!!! I love Jab's design so much and I rlly enjoy what I've read about aleksey so far. :-)
@warwickroyals - Ok so first off your clothing is a STAPLE in my folder for my more wealthy and/or fashion-oriented sims! And as for the Warwick Legacy? One of my absolute favorite simblr stories I've read. I still remember when I started it, it was pretty late at night so I was just planning on reading a handful of posts and then picking it back up the next day. That did not happen I could not stop. Straight up stayed up the entire night bingeing all the way to the latest post (which was the Big Phillip Thing. I had to get up from my computer to pace I was having a Moment LOL) I've got some catching up to do but so far I think that's been my favorite arc. Aside from that your editing is beautiful, and I've always been a character enjoyer so I'm in love with how much thought you've put into all of yours, and the fact we get to learn so much about them. I think you do a really good job of balancing the cast and I really dig your storytelling style in general.
@whimsyalien I know u post moreso on twitter but since u ARE technically also on simblr... I just wanna say I love the polaris legacy and thank you so much for all the poses and templates you share!!!
@windbrook THANK YOU for making so many fantastic builds and for sharing your saves, it's one of my absolute favorites. Also all the original sims u post are so striking, and ur cartoon-ish makeovers were so much fun!! Loving the recent builds/world pics u shared as well, and looking forward to whatever you create whether its in sims 4 or a previous game in the series!
@yooniesim Your cc is a more recent addition to my folder but there's so many things you've made and I'm sure will make that are essentials there now, like the teeth and body hair and god that necklace set for men is a necessity, but outside of that I love a lot of the other CAS CC you make you have some of the cutest hairs and I really adore the accessories! Thank you also for speaking out on certain issues within the community.
Finally,
To My Followers: thank u all for sticking with me even as I've been a biiit flaky over the years. My healths doing a lot better tho and I have so much passion for the game and I'm so excited for what I have to share with u all next, and I hope it can brighten ur dash up a bit, pull the heartstrings when appropriate, etc!! I also have a lil milestone coming up so im planning on doing some sim requests soon as a thank you when that hits. c:
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Pink Scarf - Part 19 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)
Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)
Requested: kinda
(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)
Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]
TW: References to sex. Continued ANGST. Medication/drug use/overdose mentions. Dub con mentions(sort of?). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.
Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 8.1k
A/N: Thank you for your patience, my beautiful lil mamas, Part 19 is finally here! We are back in Reader's headspace, and lordy, oh lordy, it's A LOT...just remember, I DID warn and promise y'all pain before a happy ending. And the end is coming soon. 😭 I know, babies, I know. 💖
If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Some of you have been asking about this, and of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜
I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY! I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋
If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!
I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!
Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.
(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)
Silence.
For the first time in over a week, you aren’t bombarded with images of the past or worries for the future as your subconscious desperately tries to guide you places you are not ready to go to yet. As you stir awake, you feel somewhat rested, peaceful almost. Your eyes flutter open and even though the room is dim, you still squint and hiss at the light that pierces through your eyes and seems to rocket through your head like a spear. You can’t help but groan a little at the pain behind your eyes.
The room is not familiar, however, which sets you on edge, that peacefulness of good sleep draining from you quickly. Frantically, you try to puzzle out where you are and how you got here but thinking sends a wave of nausea through you that you can’t ignore. You groan again at the feeling and crack your eyes open the slightest bit.
A man, first crouched in the uncomfortable looking chair he’s perched in, sits up ramrod straight at your movements. Despite the dark circles around his eyes, he’s a vision to behold. You know without a doubt he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on, what with his high cheekbones, lusciously pouty lips, and chiseled jaw covered in what looks to be a day’s worth of dark stubble. Raven hair frames his face, thick sideburns curling at his ears and locks haphazard on his forehead. And those eyes, dear lord, those impossibly long, dark lashes rim his eyes. His eyes, which feel as deep and dark blue as the ocean itself, cut through the fog in your head, widening and looking over you with care and concern.
You know those soulful, familiar eyes anywhere.
Elvis.
You blink and the world starts to snap into focus. Through the pain and nausea, you take in your surroundings. The uncomfortable bed you’re in. The IV in your arm. The dreary paint on the walls. The smell of antiseptic.
The hospital. You are in the hospital.
This must be why Elvis looks positively distraught, his large hand now frantically grasping at yours on the bed. You swear he is shaking, steadied only once he touches you and a wave of relief falls over his handsome yet worried features.
“Y/n. Oh thank God, y/n,” he murmurs. “Are you okay? How do you feel? What do you remember?” he barrages you with questions that you aren’t sure you have the answers to yet, especially with the way your head is pounding so distractingly. For some reason, the whole scene suddenly strikes you as silly, what with the most famous man in the world looking at you so damn seriously. You can’t help yourself.
“Who…who are you?” you croak out quietly, your unused voice cracking.
The look on his face is priceless as he rolls through shock, terror, and dismay all at once. His face falls dramatically then and there is no way you can keep up the pretense because the little boy look that comes over him is just too much.
“Gotcha,” you chuckle, cracking a smile that suddenly makes your face feel like it’s on fire and making you regret your smile instantly.
“You little minx,” he growls, a relieved grin spreading over his face before he sees the pain on your face. “You’re hurtin’. Goddammit, I should’ve killed him…” he mutters heatedly under his breath.
It takes more than a moment to process what he is saying and connect that with the burning tightness of the left side of your face. You bring your hand up slowly, gingerly touching the unfamiliar swollen, hot flesh of your cheek. You can’t help but hiss at the painful sensation that runs over you when you do so.
You close your eyes, feeling Elvis’ heavy but comforting hand squeeze yours.
What in the hell happened?
Reaching back in your memory, you attempt to piece together why you are here, why you are in so much pain. Dread fills your heart as flashes of memory come at you:
Jack accosting you in the bathroom.
Losing his mind at seeing the hickies on your breast.
Him dragging you out and humiliating you in front of everyone.
Then…then…
Oh, god.
Jack did this. He hit you.
Your head falls back, and you cover your eyes with your free hand. A wave of shock, then a wave of deep sadness overcomes you. Hot tears spring to your eyes and spill down your cheeks and you don’t attempt to stop them. The salt of them stings the abrasions on your face.
How could he? How could he?
Sobs wrack your body, each one a pulse of pain through your head, shooting red-hot through you. You knew, you knew deep down it was over, but you never expected it to come to this. You never thought Jack had it in him to truly hurt you. But you are lying in a hospital bed, living proof that the man you once loved was truly gone.
And it feels devastating, yet also strangely relieving, in a way you could’ve never imagined.
“Oh, Satnin, baby. Oh, I’m so, so sorry,” Elvis whispers at you, clutching your hand, his concern evident but unsure.
The wave of devastation crashes over you, both the physical and psychic pain nearly unbearable as it throbs in your head. You feel utterly raw. Humiliated. Gutted. Guilty. Relieved. Furious.
The sudden image of slapping Jack’s face as he knelt bloody on the floor resonates through you, the sting still evident in your palm.
Elvis had almost killed Jack, blinded by a protective rage, you now remember. You’d stopped him.
Part of you wishes you hadn’t.
It all feels quite unreal yet simultaneously overwhelming, all these flashes of memory hitting you in rapid succession. And you know there are more troubling memories waiting in the wings, ready to knock you off your feet once again. You can sense them lingering at the edges of your mind, somehow closer than they have ever been but still just out of reach.
All at once you don’t feel strong enough to bear them.
Everybody knows, you suddenly realize. Your affair with Elvis was now out there for everyone to see, for everyone to judge. You open your tear-filled eyes to look at the beautiful man before you, the one you love so much it feels as though it might destroy you, because god knows you haven’t forgotten that. You cannot bring yourself to regret being with him, no matter if it led you to be here, broken and battered in a hospital bed in Las Vegas.
But something is not right. Something besides the obvious. And it’s right there, just out of view.
Your head hurts too much to dwell on it, however.
“I’m gonna take care of you baby,” Elvis finally says after what you realize is too many moments of silence. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”
The way he says it so softly and with such righteous conviction strikes something within you. The clasp of his hand on yours is almost too tight, the look on his face both filled with remorse and determination. You know what he says is true—he will not leave you to face this alone.
Despite this, the uncomfortable elephant in the room lingers: you would not be here if not for Elvis, and you both know it.
But with the pain in your body and the ache in your heart, that is not a mountain you can begin to climb yet. There are too many unanswered questions that you need to figure out and this is not the time or place. So, you let Elvis hold your hand with that mournful look in his churning eyes and you try to heal.
*
“Watch your step, watch your step!” Elvis supports you gingerly, his strong arm holding you at the waist, as if just walking will shatter you into a thousand pieces.
“E, I’m okay. I promise I can walk on my own. It’s just one step,” you say, trying to keep the annoyance out of your tone. He’s been hovering as much as possible for the past two days you’ve been under observation at the hospital, only leaving when absolutely necessary to do his two shows a night. He sent the hospital staff into a tizzy with demands for your care while still managing to be charming and effusive to all the employees in a way that only he could get away with.
You’re not sure that he’s slept in the past few days, as he seems obsessed with making sure you are alright. Your pleas for him to go back to the hotel and get some rest fell on deaf ears. Hopefully, now that you’ll be in the hotel, he will relax a little.
While your face is healing, it is still covered in a nasty bruise, which you are reminded of every time Elvis looks at you because the wince that passes over his features, while nearly imperceptible to others, is quite evident to you. It serves to remind you how you got here and how he seemingly thinks him controlling everything about your recovery is going to somehow put you back together and make everything how it was before.
But it’s not like it was before.
Not with the looks that the Mafia are giving you. You can sense their pity, their judgement, their fear. Because Elvis having a known affair with you threatens them all. What if it was their wife or girlfriend? What if Elvis turns on them the way he turned on Jack? Jack was their friend, too. It’s written all over their faces. And you can tell they’ve been put on best behavior because more than usual they defer to Elvis, and they are suddenly wildly uncomfortable around you, even though you’ve been part of the group for years.
You can’t help but feel like the king’s consort. The mistress. The usurper.
The only exceptions are Jerry and Sandy, of course. And Charlie, in his usual Charlie way, has been kind and endearing. But the rest are quiet. Too quiet.
You don’t know what’s happened to Jack. You also haven’t seen Red, though you can’t say you’re upset about it. The few times you tried to ask Elvis, he brushed you off, saying you didn’t need to worry about such things while you’re trying to recover.
All of it has you unsettled. You knew there would be consequences, of course you did, but you didn’t expect it to be this strange.
Thankfully, your headaches are becoming less frequent, but when they do come, they are intense and debilitating, and weirdly, each one brings a host of images and fractured memories that you must try to make sense of. The doctor said this should hopefully get better as your brain heals from the concussion. A full recovery, he said, but it might take some time. Elvis takes this to mean you need constant care, and honestly you don’t have the energy to argue with the man about it right now, so you let him escort you into his bedroom suite as though you are frail and fragile.
“There you go, Satnin, all set,” he says, fluffing the mountain of pillows behind you, and then he gently takes off each of your shoes. You lean back with a sigh, suddenly grateful for the comfort of his huge bed in his penthouse suite because that hospital bed was truly terrible.
“Maybe you wanna to get into your pajamas?” he suggests. “I had all your things brought up, but I also went ahead and bought you some things, since I know you hadn’t planned on being here this long, and—” he rambles. The look on his face is almost childlike in his need to please you, to take care of you. It is quite the adjustment after spending a week basking in his masculine sexual dominance. You aren’t complaining at this change in him; in fact, it reminds you of when you first met, of those early years. It’s just giving you a bit of whiplash.
“It’s okay, honey, I’m fine for now,” you interrupt, trying to keep your tone light. Bringing your hand up, you pinch the bridge of your nose as another headache threatens. Overly attuned to you, Elvis grabs one of your feet and starts rubbing, using his strong hands to knead deep into the sole of your foot.
The hurts-so-good feeling has you groaning and your head falling back onto the pillows.
“That feel good, mama?” he drawls quietly.
All you can do is nod and hum in response. You’re certain if this had happened a few days ago, that statement, this action, would be laced with a fierce sexual energy. You imagine that it would last only a minute before he pounced and worked you into a state of pleasurable bliss. That latent desire is still there—you can sense it—but with everything that has happened, it takes a backseat to your pain.
This both saddens you and makes you feel grateful. You covet your sexual relationship with him, as it is the definitive thing you know he wants and needs from you. You know this for sure, and with your ever-present uncertainty about the rest of your relationship, it makes you feel off-kilter to not be able to share that with him. However, his commitment to being by your side despite the lack of sex, has been somewhat reassuring. You desperately hope it’s not just a sense of guilt that keeps him here with you.
You sigh, your eyes falling shut, and relish in the feel of his hands on you in such a comforting way as he treats one foot, then the other, to this intimate treatment. But he is uncharacteristically quiet.
He practically has you in a stupor by the time he finishes with the second foot, managing to stave off your impending headache. Opening your eyes, you catch him looking at you, those deep blues of his taking on a darker hue in the dim lighting. You can see the wheels turning, the way his hand flexes and releases over his tailored pants, how he worries his bottom lip with his teeth.
“What is it, E?” you ask gently, almost afraid it might spook him.
“I-I-I…can I hold you?” he stutters, changing tactics midway to get the sentence out, betraying his nerves.
“Of course, baby,” you respond quietly.
“I-I just don’t want to hurt you,” he says, crawling up the comforter to lie next to you. “Are ya sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” you say, as he curls into you, his arm coming over you.
All at once, you are flooded with memory. Your teenage bedroom. Your single bed. Elvis nestling close into your side, his cheeks still salty with tears. The way your heart races at his proximity and the way his touch, though innocent, burns through you like wildfire. His breath warm on your neck, tickling your bare skin.
He shows up on your doorstep such a mess, coming to you, of all people. You don’t quite understand it. (You’re still not sure you understand it—why it’s you, of all people, at that point in his life, that he’d chosen to come to.)
You fall into caring for him so easily, like it is second nature to run your fingers through his hair and massage his back as he cries in your lap, even though you’ve never touched him like this, so intimately, before. When he asks to stay, those bedroom eyes of his begging, your heart leaps in a way you are ashamed of. Your entire body feels on fire, flustering you as you consider the implications, consider just how badly you do want him to stay, and if it’s worth it to see where this might go.
It only gets worse when you find him stripped down to his underwear, waiting for you innocently in your bedroom, a place no man has stayed before. Your heart stops in your chest at the sight of him sitting there, exhausted and emotionally spent. Before you take him into your bed, he’s so good in reassuring you he would never hurt you, that he won’t touch you like that. Of course, he wouldn’t; you know this. But your trepidation isn’t because you are afraid he’ll take advantage of you—it is because part of you wants him to.
The memory makes you blush furiously. Yet another important moment you had buried so deep that remembering it now makes it feel like it just happened.
After the initial tension of him being curled so close into you wanes, you relax and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t go. Oh, how you relish in the softness of his skin against yours, the musky scent and heat of him surrounding you as he holds on to you through the night. You wake up multiple times, thinking you must be dreaming that Elvis is in your bed, but are pleasantly surprised to really find him there, his warm, lean, young body pressing into yours in various ways. The moonlight through the window lets you see just how innocently beautiful and vulnerable he is like this, like some kind of angel not of this world, his long lashes falling over his cheeks. You feel grateful to see him this way, tucking the moment away in your mind. Despite the rollercoaster of hormones coursing through you, you’ve never felt so safe before, not with Ted, not with any man.
Or felt so aroused. That terrified you, you think, as the wave of feeling crashes over you in the present. You want him with an intensity that shocks you to your core. But he is your friend, for god’s sake, and he’d come to you upset and trusted you to help him, and here you are, suddenly lusting after him like every other girl on the planet. Oh, yes, you are so very ashamed of yourself, for the dirty thoughts you’re thinking.
But, oh, how you imagine him waking to kiss you passionately, willing him to touch you everywhere, wanting him to run his long, calloused fingers up under your nightgown and into your panties. Thinking that, in an instant, he could easily slide between your legs, and you would let him. You’ll gladly give yourself to him right this minute if he wants you. You screw your eyes shut, trying unsuccessfully to block out the image of him slowly entering you, joining with you, rocking you into submission, into ecstasy.
Back then, those thoughts were more dangerous than anything, especially when the man in question was in your bed already, holding you close. It was a different time, and at nineteen, you were young and bound by propriety, and yet, in that moment, you hadn’t cared about that part.
But it is Elvis. Your dear friend. He doesn’t think of you that way. He’s on the brink of stardom and already has half the country fawning over him, with girlfriends in every town. You know this, logically. You know this, but for the first time, you allow yourself to think that maybe there is more to the two of you than just friendship. That maybe there is a reason he’d come to you in his hour of need.
A wave of heartache rolls through you as you recall that next morning. You blearily wake up from your fitfully aroused but somehow comforting slumber to him pulling you close, pressing the front of his body into the back of yours. The heat of him permeates through the thin cotton of your nightgown, which is quite a pleasing sensation in the cold of this late-winter morning. You sigh and wiggle back into him instinctually, before you can think too much on it, just needing to be closer to him. But then he jumps out of the bed in a flash, as if you were on fire, scurrying to clothe himself, and then he practically leaps out the window to get away from you.
He didn’t want you. Of course, he didn’t want you. He probably regrets the whole thing, with the way he leaves you lying there. He is Elvis Presley, after all. Your friend, but nothing more. You’d been foolish to think it anything more.
His abrupt absence leaves you cold, tears welling in your eyes, yearning for something you know you could never have from him (or so you’d thought, at the time). You pull the covers over your head, the scent of him on your sheets enveloping you. The grease he used in his hair left a stain on your pillow, but you don’t care in the slightest because it is something tangible, something that lets you know him holding you through the night had been real and not a dream.
Now it hits you suddenly that—oh, god—that was the day Jack had asked you out for the first time. You’d been sad all day, trying to push Elvis out of your mind and Jack had shown up at the diner, suddenly quite brazen in his attraction to you. While you weren’t entirely surprised, as the two of you had been dancing around each other for some time, the timing of it helped bring you out of your funk, reminding you that in the real world, a good man like Jack wanted you.
You’d quickly accepted because you liked Jack and there was no reason not to.
Elvis Presley was just your friend, after all.
Now you realize that in that short 24-hour period, the trajectory of your entire life changed. Maybe you’d fallen into Jack’s arms so quickly because Elvis’ rejection had upset you more than you wanted to admit. It had been easier and more realistic to date Jack, and it had taken your mind off the unwanted thoughts you had for Elvis.
Oh, no.
The intense discovery of this long-hidden memory and the emotions to go with it rocket through your skull with a shooting pain, causing you to hiss. Tears flood your eyes, from both the ache in your heart and the pain in your head.
“Baby, you okay? What can I do?” Elvis shoots his head up, noticing your distress, looking you over carefully.
You can’t explain, not now. “Bad headache,” you breathe out instead. “Can you get my medicine?” You didn’t want to take pain meds if you could help it, but in this moment, everything, pain and otherwise, is too overwhelming and you think maybe you just need some sleep.
So, you take the pill he gives you gratefully. You try not to think about how the way he looks at you now has that same boyish quality it had all those years ago when you’d taken him into your bed and into your arms, and he’d left you cold.
It’s okay, you think. He’s here now, taking care of me. He wants me now, even if he didn’t then.
And with that, you drift aimlessly away into welcome darkness.
*
Everything is fuzzy, the dull ache in your head muddling the flashes that are floating to the surface in your dreams.
You kiss Elvis’ forehead, the tears on his baby-faced cheeks, his pouting, full lips. You can taste the salt of his tears on your tongue.
Not Elvis now, you think, Elvis a long, long time ago.
But that doesn’t make sense. You didn’t kiss Elvis until two weeks ago.
He’s so sad, though, so alone. He needs you, he needs you, he needs you…
And you need him.
But it’s wrong, all wrong. And so right, all at once. Your body tingles through the ache in your head as you ever-so-gently press your lips to his. You’ve wondered for so long what he tastes like.
Soft and sweet, like marshmallows.
His bright blue eyes widen with shock.
“Y/n, baby, you don’t want this…” he whispers. The words echo and swirl around you.
He’s right, isn’t he? You can’t want this. You shouldn’t. Of course not…
You’re so angry, so sad, and he’s so beautiful.
Elvis. Your Elvis.
No, he’s not, he’s not, he’s not.
He belongs to no one. He belongs to the world.
Need pulses through you, a need so deep it brings you to your knees. It cuts through the pain in your head. It singes through your heart.
It’s unbearable.
It burns through you, from the inside out.
Those eyes, deep as the ocean, rimmed in black, plunder your soul. You ride the swell of the waves in them as they rise higher and higher and higher until they shatter underneath you.
The fall is blissful and terrifying, all at once, but Elvis is with you the whole way.
Free falling through the abyss, you are scared. It’s never-ending. You don’t know when you’ll hit bottom, and the anticipation of it runs like ice through your veins.
Guilt. Shame. That ache in your chest.
And then you hit bottom.
*
Your eyes pop open with a shuddering gasp. Gripping the sheets for dear life, you frantically try to piece out where you are, that you are not falling anymore.
Just a dream. Just a crazy, medication induced dream, you pray, seeing that you are in the darkened suite in Elvis’ penthouse.
But the unease remains, lurking more visibly now in the corners of your mind, trying to tell you something you don’t want to hear. Something you don’t want to see.
The door to the bedroom slowly opens and you jump, a hand flying over your chest in surprise. Elvis strides in quietly, clad in his white gi jumpsuit, sweat pouring over him. He must have just finished a show.
You had been asleep a while.
You are still amazed at how his presence fills a room, even when it’s just you here, even when there is no one to impress. He looks gorgeous and you know he’s riding the post-show high by the way his eyes sparkle and by the flush of his cheeks.
“You’re awake, baby. How’re ya feeling?” he asks, gliding over to you on those long legs of his.
You are still reeling from the dream. You shake your head, trying to clear that feeling of dread, of falling, and as he sits on the bed next to you, you are sucked into those oceanic eyes once again.
Your heart races.
“Are you okay?” He looks concerned, brushing your sweaty locks off your forehead, thumb grazing your cheek.
“Are you okay? he whispers, his thumb grazing your cheek. You sit still in his lap, saying nothing and can feel him begin to soften inside of you, the wetness of spent arousal leaking down your thighs under your dress…
The flash of memory hits you hard, because it was then, not now. Triggered by the same gesture, the same man, but it was a different time. He looked so young…
But that’s impossible. Impossible. The first time you had sex with Elvis was less than two weeks ago.
Your heart thunders in your chest because suddenly you don’t think that’s true.
You kiss Elvis’ forehead, kiss the tears on his baby-faced cheeks, and then, with a strange boldness, you kiss his pouting, full lips. You can taste the salt of his tears on your tongue.
His pants scratch at your bare thighs as you straddle his narrow hips. His tongue explores your mouth, sending searing heat through you. Boldly, you rock in his lap, feeling him grow underneath you.
You need him, oh, god, how you need him.
The flashes aren’t complete, but they are real. You are suddenly so sure that they are, and you don’t understand, not at all. You look at Elvis now, wild-eyed, silently seeking answers. How? How?
His long fingers are cold as they part your wet folds, and he pushes one, then another deep into your heat while his thumb massages that ever-sensitive bundle of nerves at the front. It stings at first, this surprising intrusion, but he’s gentle, letting you adjust around him, letting you decide when to move.
Your breath is coming fast now, and Elvis looks more than concerned.
“Satnin, what’s happenin’? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says, eyes searching you.
You screw your eyes shut. This can’t be real. It can’t be.
You sink down on him slowly, the tightness of your canal stretching around his considerable size as you try to take him all in. It’s easier now, after he prepped you with his fingers, and the discomfort wanes quickly as you bottom out. He’s hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed until this very moment.
Elvis looks utterly ethereal as you begin to ride him, his mouth open and pink, his freshly dyed raven hair falling in his eyes. Everything about him looks carved out by the gods, and his eyes drink you in in a way that strips you bare, right to the heart of you. He looks at you as though you hung the moon and the stars.
Those eyes are now looking at you in a panic.
He brings you to the brink easily and you crest the wave hard, your orgasm fracturing you into a thousand pieces as you fall. You’d never felt this way before, not with Ted, not with Jack, not even with yourself. The pleasure of it rips through you and he follows quickly, a warm, sticky heat pulsing deep as you cling to each other for dear life.
Oh. Oh god…
It was real. You know it now. You are more sure of it now than you’ve ever been.
Graceland, you realize suddenly, when he took you to see Graceland for the first time. That’s where it happened. Nineteen-fucking-fifty-seven.
Elvis and you had sex, a long, long time ago. And he kept it from you. Pretended it never even happened.
You push away from him and stagger off the bed in daze, flooded with so many emotions and sensations at once that you don’t know how to react. Dizzy, you sway a bit on your feet.
Flashes keep hitting you as you move. Waking in the hospital, not knowing how you’d gotten there. Elvis, worried at your bedside. The pills. The accidental overdose.
You think you might be sick.
“What the hell is happenin’? You’re scarin’ me. Talk to me, baby,” Elvis says from behind you. He feels so far away, but that deep seeded need to flee him is rolling through you and you walk unsteadily forward, though you aren’t sure exactly where you are trying to go.
Oh, he must have been so relieved when you didn’t remember anything about that night. That he didn’t have to take back what he’d—you’d—done. That it didn’t completely derail his friendship with you or Jack. That he got to keep being Elvis without any repercussions.
Twelve years. Over a decade built on lies and half-truths and pretending.
Tears are streaming down your burning cheeks now. You feel humiliated. Shocked at both yourself and at him. You’d cheated on Jack, with Elvis. It didn’t matter that Jack had cheated first. You’d had feelings for Elvis all the way back then, feelings you acted on in a moment of vulnerability for both of you. He’d been devastated about June, scared about his fame. You’d wanted to comfort him, but you had also wanted to prove to yourself that if a man like Elvis Presley could want you, then of course Jack should.
You’d thrown yourself at him. He didn’t stop you. And then he lied to you about it all.
If you’d have remembered…Christ, the repercussions would’ve been life altering.
Elvis grabs you then, in the present, his hot, long, ring-clad fingers circling your arm, pulling you back towards him.
And it is then that your anguish fully turns to anger. After everything that has happened these past two weeks, these past fourteen years…Suddenly, that sense of betrayal, your seeming lack of control of anything in your life, all the fear of the past, present, and future, pushes you to the brink. You feel done being at the mercy of the universe, done at being at the mercy of the lies and whims of men.
“Take your fucking hand off me, Elvis,” you hiss, venom in your glare.
You watch as his brilliant blue eyes widen in surprise, and with that, he releases you.
“Is this all a game to you?” you ask pointedly, voice shaking under the weight of your simmering fury.
“W-what?” he says, shaking his head. “Baby, I can’t emphasize enough that I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me for years,” you throw at him. A fueled rage clouds your judgement. You are quickly becoming unhinged and near irrational, but you are unable to stop it, almost like you are possessed, out of your mind, and watching your unusual behavior from afar. It’s as though a part of you wants to blow all of this up and you are powerless to stop this destructive side of yourself.
Elvis throws his hands up in surrender and begins to turn away. “That concussion has you bein’ all crazy, honey. I don’t even know—”
“That day at Graceland, right before you bought it. When I accidentally took too many pills for my headache. You know the one, don’t you?” you interrupt scathingly.
He stops and looks back at you, that pretty brow furrowing, and you think you can sense his panic truly brewing now. “I-I-I thought ya didn’t remember nothin’ about that afternoon.”
“Oh, I didn’t.” You think now you do, but you have to be sure. “You were awfully upset that day because of June, weren’t you? Going on and on about how you’d never know if a women would truly love you. And, come to think of it, you never did tell me how it was that I fell asleep,” you add, turning the knife with both curiosity and fervor, glaring at him.
His eyes truly widen now, his pouty mouth popping open and then shuttering closed again, his pallor turning pale.
And there you have your answer. You are not supposed to know this. He’d told you about June all over again after you’d left the hospital because you hadn’t remembered him telling you at Graceland. But he definitely hadn’t told you again about his insecurity of not knowing if a woman would love him for who he really is.
It’s all true.
That realization is horrible and vindicating and almost relieving all at once. You weren’t wrong when that voice in your head was telling you he was keeping something important from you. You weren’t crazy. And you even think this isn’t all he’s been hiding, but you can’t go there now. It’s too heavy a punch to the gut, and all you see is red.
A frantic, small voice in your head tries to remind you that you should consider Elvis’ feelings about that day, how he was vulnerable and frightened when he couldn’t wake you, and that your concussion has you not in your right mind and missing pieces of all this, but your rage kicks those thoughts aside and you plow forward anyway. You have too many unanswered questions.
“We had sex, Elvis. In 1957! How could you…how dare you then pretend it never happened! How could you not tell me?!” you scream at him, in a way that is utterly unlike the passive and quiet woman you’d become over the years. The woman who had learned to cower instead of speaking up for herself. The stubbornness and fire from your youth flares, driving you forward recklessly. It hurts your head to do it, but you can’t help it.
Elvis just stands there, staring, silent, using that well-honed talent of his to make his beautiful, godlike face an unreadable mask. It kills you inside, but you wait, unwilling to let him off the hook. But he still does not speak.
“Did it even mean anything to you?” you then ask quietly, tears prickling your eyes again, “Or was I just another notch on your bedpost?”
He blinks slowly and presses his lips together, and your heart sinks because you can’t tell if being with him so intimately meant anything to him at all. You should be able to tell, but you can’t, not when he’s shutting you out like this. And that deepest fear being realized both destroys you and pisses you off even more.
Finally, Elvis breaks his silence, voice low and measured and too careful for him, like he’s reciting lines in a movie, “It wasn’t…You were high. Your judgement was impaired. I was mortified...” He trails off, looking away. Then he pauses, taking a deep breath before challenging you with his intense eyes, “And would tellin’ you have changed anythin’?”
You choke at that and shake your head as you turn away from him. The words linger in the air, and you are irate at them, at him. They whirl within you, stabbing you in their coldness. He was mortified by being with you. Good god. The wound of that cracks through you like ice shattering.
You know deep down you didn’t sleep with him because you were accidentally high. You are certain of it. It wasn’t just about getting back at Jack, or just about feeling attractive and desired. No, it was so much more than that. After remembering what you have, you know you’d given yourself to Elvis willingly, medication or no, doing something you’d sworn after Ted that you wouldn’t do again until marriage.
He presses you on this, this thing you can’t believe he’s asking. “Would it’ve? You were with Jack, you loved Jack. And I’d just gotten home and was leavin’ again just as fast. What would’ve it changed, y/n, other than to make things awkward between us and ruin our friendship? Other than to ruin what you had with Jack?” Elvis asks from behind you, his gravelly voice strained.
You’re shaking now, your whole being quaking with physical and emotional toil, another headache slamming down upon you. Yes, you’d loved Jack, you truly had. And you know you’ve fallen in love with Elvis these past few weeks. But all of this craziness—these revelations, these secrets, these memories—are finally confirming something your mind has been trying to tell you lately about all those years ago, something you suspected and feared, but didn’t want to admit:
You have been in love with Elvis since the beginning. You had loved him then just as you love him now. And if you had remembered that, if he’d wanted it, if he had asked you, at any point, you think would’ve dropped everything for him.
Even if it would’ve ruined you both.
A bile of panic rises in your throat because, besides the times you truly can’t remember because you’d literally been dying, there had been all those other moments throughout the years where you’d pushed down your love for him. Important pieces of your life that you’d just forgotten, sometimes right away, in order to spare yourself the pain of this realization, the pain of Elvis’ rejection.
Maybe it started in the diner when he comforted you after Ted broke your heart, or maybe it began even earlier because god knows you can’t trust yourself or your memory. In fact, you are quite sure that there are still things he’s keeping from you, pivotal things you still don’t remember and it’s maddening. But after the diner, it feels like every moment you repressed is a missing piece to the puzzle of your life and reminder of how everything has gone so completely wrong.
Oh, and isn’t it rich that you are laying into him about keeping this naughty little tryst from you when you’ve been conveniently forgetting all these crucial moments of your relationship over your lifetime, a logical voice in the back of your head hurls at you.
Fuck you, you throw back, dread seeping through you.
And now your deepest fears are confirmed—Elvis hadn’t wanted you, not like that. He was mortified by it, in fact. He had a taste of you in a moment of weakness, because he’s just a man after all, and got lucky when you didn’t remember. Thinking better of it, he kept it all to himself. All these years, he’d lied by omission. And for some goddamned reason, he’d swung back around to you after all this time, destroying your life as you knew it in the process.
You spin back around to face him. Nausea rolls in your stomach because, suddenly, you’re not sure you know the man in front of you at all.
“Fuck you, Elvis Presley. It would’ve changed everything,” you say vehemently, honestly, leveling him with your stare.
And it looks like you just slapped him by the way he recoils.
You can’t stop yourself from digging deeper, too angry to care, “But I’m sure that’s not what you wanted, since you were so quick to decide that I didn’t need to know, so fucking cocksure that you didn’t even deem to ask what I wanted. No, you just got laid and got lucky and moved right on to the next girl.”
“Th-that’s not—“ he sputters, those azure eyes a little frantic.
“Isn’t it, though, Elvis? Isn’t that exactly what happened? We fucked and you decided it was a bad idea, so you didn’t bother to tell me when I couldn’t remember myself. Who cares what I thought, right?! Then you went on with your life as though nothing happened.”
As if it hadn’t mattered at all, as though you hadn’t mattered enough to bother. You can’t bring yourself to say that part, though, as the icy pain of saying the rest out loud like this sends more tears pouring down your cheeks, despite your anger wanting to keep them at bay.
As if the rest isn’t bad enough, another thought hits you sideways, “My god, you even pushed Jack to marry me, didn’t you?” You look at him incredulously, remembering how Jack had joked about it after he’d proposed. The words ache through you as you say them, as you realize the implications of that. Yet another one of your deepest fears confirmed.
Elvis looks stricken as he backs up to the bed and sinks down on the edge, putting his head in his hands.
“I-I-I w-was no good for you,” he mumbles.
“You don’t get to decide that, Elvis! You took those choices away from me!” you cry at him.
You watch as he holds his tongue, as his body stiffens at your words. His jaw clenches and his breathing changes. You know the signs by now, but you don’t care. You don’t care that he’s getting ready to explode and that it’s you pushing him over the edge. You want him over the edge. You want him to care enough to be mad about it.
“And what? Did you finally decide after twelve years that maybe you did like my pussy after all, so you decided to come back for more?” you spit at him nastily, driving him right over the threshold.
“I was protecting you!” Elvis bellows, leaping to his feet, face red with anger. His eyes darken and flash in a way that might have caused you to pause before, but not today, not after this.
You don’t let up. “Protecting me from what exactly? A bad marriage? A man that doesn’t love me?” you laugh haughtily at the irony.
He doesn’t elaborate, just bites his tongue in frustration and glowers at you, pulling himself back.
Then, another sinking realization drags you under. “Good lord—you had your hands in my relationship with Jack every step of the way. From day fucking one. You pushed us onto each other, a-a-and then you took him away from me, over and over again. The women Jack ‘dated’…Jesus, that was when he went to Vegas to see you that first time, wasn’t it? Of course. I should’ve known that’s when he started fucking other women. Because of you,” you point at him, more fury boiling in your stomach as you ramble.
God, was it all lies and subterfuge? Every fucking thing in your life related to these men?
Elvis stands there, jaw gritted so hard he might crack his veneers, his hands fisted at his sides, his leg going a million miles an hour. But you don’t stop.
“And then you came back home to find me upset, pretended like you didn’t know why, and then you fucked me?” The memories come to you too quickly, too painfully, fractured moments flashing in your aching head, weaving back together what you’d lost for so long, fueling your pain, fueling you forward. “And that was just the beginning. You sucked Jack and me both into your world, then played with our lives because…why? Why, E?” you demand.
Still, he says nothing, eyes fierce and his body vibrating with energy, letting you continue your verbal assault.
Your heart is going so fast you fear it’s going to explode, but you continue anyway, knowing that this isn’t like you, that perhaps this isn’t truly what you want. I love him, don’t I? But you are so mad, so exhausted from feeling like a plaything in the lives of the men around you, that you can’t stop. They’ve treated you as if you have no agency of your own. As if you were nothing without them. And you are done.
You shake your head. “You screwed with our lives because you could. You and your fucking egomaniacal, insane, manipulative bullshit. Nobody can be happy unless the King is happy, right? What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hiss, beside yourself with anger at him, on what he’d done to your life. In this moment, your love for him is entirely consumed by your rage, as your addled and bruised brain tries to piece together just how screwed up this entire situation is.
Elvis roars then and sweeps everything off the nightstand, sending things shattering and flying to the floor. You do your best not to wince at the outburst, unwilling to let him shake you. Then, he looks at you, like a caught, caged beast, his chest heaving and eyes dangerous. But he isn’t blacked out, and you know it because you can see the gears working in his head. You can see that the emotion in his face is not anger alone. There is a deep pain there and it confuses you.
Dread settles into a knot in your stomach because suddenly you can’t shake that terrible feeling that you are still missing something vital here, something both Elvis and your traitorous brain are keeping from you, but your head is pounding and your blood is up and you can’t think straight.
You stand toe-to-toe, staring at each other, chests heaving in the heavy silence.
He breaks first, but with an almost frightening level of clarity that you don’t expect after his outburst. “Fine. Y-you w-w-wanna make me th-the-the villain in this story, then fine, I-I’m th-the fucking villain, honey. I-I-I always w-was,” he stutters wildly, cutting, his stormy eyes narrowing like a crocodile as he levels you with them.
He doesn’t deny any of it. He doesn’t even defend himself anymore.
You don’t know what to do with that.
All you know is you hurt. Everything aches, inside and out. You feel like an absolute fool. You are infuriated with him and maybe even more furious at yourself. Then, your heart breaks, sending a wave of sorrow flooding through your chest and down your limbs.
Everything with Jack was bad.
Somehow, this is worse.
It feels like your entire world has been pulled from underneath your feet. The devastation you felt about Jack feels like nothing now compared to Elvis’ betrayal, and the weight of both together is crushing you from all angles.
There is no escape. You can’t breathe.
Somehow, you’ve lost them both. Or maybe you never really had either of them to begin with.
You silly, stupid girl. I tried to warn you.
You manage to hold back the sob that threatens to break you.
Wordlessly, you nod, clench your fists, then turn and walk out.
Elvis doesn’t stop you.
*
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The Princess & the Football Player | Chapter 8
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"What the fuck were you thinking about, Eleanor? Going out alone, without telling anyone, and with him?" David says, pacing around the room.
"Roberta knew" I say, my eyes fixed on the floor.
"Roberta" he scoffs. "She's lucky nothing happened to you."
"She didn't want to help me at first, it's all my fault."
"Of course it is all your fault! Again, what were you thinking? This could have ended so bad, Eleanor. So bad!"
The moment the taxi stopped in front of my hotel, David was waiting at the door, and I barely had time to say goodbye to Declan. He just opened the door, grabbed me by the arm, and led me to my room.
"We took precautions."
"Precautions? A hat and some sunglasses? Please. This is real life, not a movie. You know better than this."
"I'm sorry" I whisper.
"Eleanor, you can't do this again" David says, sitting next to me. "You can't. This time we've been lucky and already stopped these photos from being published, but imagine that it had happened. That someone had recognized Declan. He is playing the biggest tournament of his career so far, this could ruin it for him. For the whole team. You are the future Queen of England!"
"I... I'm sorry. I just... I wanted to be alone with him. We both wanted to be alone together. David," I say, finally being brave enough to look him in the eyes. "I like him. A lot. This isn't a summer fling like with Damiano, this is serious."
"I know it is" he sighs. "You wouldn't be this reckless if you didn't like him. A lot."
"So... What now?"
"Do you want to see him again?"
"I do, yes."
"And what about him? Does he want to see you again after what happened today?"
"I don't know. I guess. Before you dragged me out of the taxi, he asked me to text him."
"Have you exchanged numbers?"
"Just Instagram dms. I didn't want you to see a new number and start lurking."
"Clever girl" David chuckles. "You can do it now if he wants to see you again. I promise your privacy will be respected, but don't do anything stupid. I had enough seeing Damiano's... You know."
"That was all him, I sent nothing or asked him to send it."
"I know, I know. But just in case. I don't think it would benefit Declan's career either."
"He isn't like that. He's... Normal. He may be a football star and all that, but when you talk with him, he is just a normal guy from Kingston with a very loud laugh and who loves playing golf for some reason. And when we are together, he also makes me feel normal. With him I'm not Princess Eleanor, heir to the throne. I'm just Eleanor” I shrug. “He's even made me like my name, you know? When he says it, it doesn't sound so regal or serious."
"Damn... You do Iike him" David laughs.
"I do" I say, feeling my cheeks get hot. "Will you help us if he wants to keep seeing me?"
"I will" he says, taking my hand on his and giving it a little squeeze. "But you have to promise me that you won't escape and do something this stupid ever again."
"I promise, David."
"Ok, then. Text him and tell him there is nothing to worry about. He has to focus on the next game."
"I will" I say, finally smiling. "Thank you."
"You're welcome" David says, kissing my head.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"No dungeon, then?"
"No dungeon" I chuckle.
"Thank God" Roberta sighs. "Imagine Mason having to go visit me there."
"Mason? What are you talking about?"
"Well..." she says, playing with her coffee cup. "After meeting the team the other day, he might have slid into my dms."
"He what? How?"
"He asked Declan if he could ask you for my username, but they found it on your profile because you have tagged me on a photo. You know that Mason knows about you two, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, Declan told me. But you had not said a word about this! It's been days!"
"I know, I know. But you were so busy with your escape plan and then so excited about finally having green light from David to see Declan, that I didn't want to ruin the moment" she shrugs.
"You wouldn't have ruined the moment, Roberta. But tell me more!"
"He's super nice and funny. At first it was a lot of teasing and jokes about oh, imagine best friends dating best friends and all that. But, I don't know. I feel a bit like you do. He makes me feel normal, not like I'm the heir of a textile empire and a royal descendant" she says with a shy smile.
"I can't believe this is happening to us" I laugh.
"I know! Falling for a football player while on holidays in Canada? That wasn't on my list of things to do this year."
"It wasn't on mine either” I chuckle. “Are you going to meet or something?"
"We want to, yes. And we were thinking that you and Declan could join us too, have a double date after the next game. If they win, of course."
"They will win, I'm confident."
"Then we should start thinking about what we are going to wear for that double date!" Roberta says, clapping her hands with excitement. "Shopping trip?"
"I guess" I smile. I can't say no to her when she gets this excited.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
Like I predicted, England won their game and made it to the next round, Declan being named man of the match, which made me feel very proud of him. But it also took a big weight from my shoulders. After everything that happened with our kind of first date, I feared it would affect him on the pitch. Thankfully there was nothing of that.
"We must play it cool, ok?" Roberta says as we walk towards the changing room.
"Cool?"
"Yes, cool. We can't let people notice that we like some players better than others."
"Ok" I chuckle.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"Congratulations, man of the match" I say to Declan when I see him.
"Thank you, your Royal Highness" he says with a big smile. "Did you enjoy the game?"
"I did. It was the best of the tournament so far, but it won't be the last."
"Let's hope so."
"Eleanor, should we take that photo now?" Roberta asks.
"Yes, sure."
"After you, ladies" Declan says.
"You weren't playing it cool" she whispers while everyone gets ready.
"What?"
"You and Declan. You were smiling at each other like two idiots in love. If I hadn't intervened, everyone would have noticed."
"What? Nah..."
"Yes, they would have. So you're welcome, princess" she says, sticking out her tongue before looking at the camera with her best smile.
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Writing Patterns - LAST Lines!
Rules: write the last line of your 10 longest fics. What patterns can you see, if any? Which ones are your favourites?
tagged by @phdmama in that she very generously tagged everyone. if you're reading this, and you want to, you are now tagged by me. please tag me, or reblog so i can see yours, too!
Thoughts here, lines below the cut!
apparently, i love a line of dialogue to end a story. but what i really see is that whether it's a line of dialogue, or a little sentence summing up the possible future, it's that: always an eye to the future and what might happen next. and so much gentleness.
Every Day I Wake Up and It's Sunday (hermione/oliver wood; 50514 words; this is my first fic, and let me down a 90s rabbit hole that my musical algorithm will never recover from)
Hermione and Oliver had each other, and they knew they made their own luck, and were unafraid.
Biological Imperative (jason todd/dick grayson; 29499 words; omegaverse, lazarus pit shenanigans, baby damian wayne!)
“Yeah,” Dick said. “Come on. Damian needs someone to play with.”
Making All Things New (tyson barrie/nathan mackinnon, and a little jamie benn/tyler seguin; 27432 words; omegaverse, inspired by the excellent oplopanax's feral nate chapter of bits and pieces)
And Tyson wasn’t naming that sweet bonny girl after EJ…
Bang Your Head (steve harrington/eddie munson; 23868 words; fix-it fic all based on the idea "What if Eddie saw Steve on MTV in his vest, hosting the Headbanger's Ball?")
They have all the time in the world.
The Flowers and My Love (jason todd/dick grayson; 22865 words; slowburn, mistaken identity hanahaki trope subversion that also benefited from my 90s music rabbit hole...)
"Yeah, Jason, I want it.”
Home Is Some Place (jason todd/dick grayson; 19302 words; this was supposed to be a one-shot based on high rent prices in gotham that turned into a batfam story. reverse robins! including big brother damian! good mother talia al ghul!)
"Nightwing!"
Containing Multitudes (jason todd/dick grayson; 18243 words; a 5+1 exploration of identity with a little Jason Dent thrown in for fun)
"Hey, Sugar.”
A Surprise To Be Sure (din djarin/luke skywalker; 16841 words; a modern AU focused on family, found or otherwise; just a corny fluffball; i listened to kacey musgraves' golden hour on repeat writing this...)
This is the Way.
Death's Silver Lining (sirius black/remus lupin; 16814 words; exploration of the black family relationship; good mother walberga black [no i'm not spelling her name with a u; she is mine and something entirely different])
They laughed quietly together, as Sirius’s hands inched up Remus’s shirt, and brought it up over his head.
We're in for a Bad Spell (jason todd/dick grayson; 13818 words; omegaverse; magic and time travel)
“K, babe,” Jason texted right back. “We’ll be right here.”
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twilight zone | ahs 1984 ; x. plympton
TAG LIST BABES || RULES + FANDOMS || GOT A QUESTION/HC REQUEST? || MASTERLIST POST
CHAPTERS ;
AUTHORS NOTES;
I feel like I never told anybody how much I loved the season 1984 from American Horror Story. Or Xavier. This whole yen to write for him rose earlier - around July tbh, and Idk, this might be a thing and it might not be a thing. We shall see. I do know I at least wanna attempt to squeeze some filth out of this before I call it quits but who knows where this one is going bc spoiler alert, it's not me. I do not know. This just came a while back and I found it in my drafts, thought I'd share.
I guess, what i'm saying here, if you wanna see more, you know what to do? Or not? Idek, man. Legit do not know how to feel about this one. On the one hand I love it, on the other hand me is scaredt.. Me is scaredt that this could turn real fuckin dark, real fuckin quick.
-Ashes
SUMMARY;
-- trapped at a haunted camp (portal to hell) to help rebuild it is not how you were planning to spend your Fourth of July week. But here you are. Might as well make the most of it, right?
aka, this is the one where you're helping prep to reopen Camp Redwood. But that's not gonna go horribly wrong... Right?
PAIRING;
Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader of vaguest descriptors if any.
WARNINGS;
not gonna lie or sugarcoat it. Sex, drugs, alcohol, a very toxic relationship with the ex who happens to also be present. possibly murder, idk yet.. for now, we'll just go with sex, dr*gs (we*d), alcohol and being trapped away from civilization with a very toxic ex. And Xavier. Xavier is his own warning, golden retriever murder boy he may be.
TAGLIST;
There is nobody on this one. If you'd like a tag, please click the link at the top of the post. I will be writing for 84 as well as other seasons.
OTHER STUFF;
Uh... This might get a little bit dark? If I keep going that is. If I keep going it could get dark. Read with caution. I'll be more descriptive in any future warnings for posts of this. I plan to write one more part, we'll see.Also, also.. setting is now, the year of our lord 2022.
“Tell me they’re not… No, no. They better not be reopening this hellhole.” Montana’s mumbled words draw Xavier’s attention away from where you stand, leaned against the side of a lifted SUV that was driven by some asshole in a muscle shirt with a backwards facing baseball cap. You’re upset and he’s not sure how he knows, he just knows. The asshole in the muscle shirt says something about you being in a bitchy mood and he yells out loud, making his way over to a similar lifted vehicle.
Xavier knew it was coming, that fucking real estate agent blew through the week before and there was lots of whispering and talk about rewriting the narrative, making Camp Redwood a happy place and when he’d heard it, he wanted to laugh until he cried because the fucking place is evil. Tainted.
“Are you even listening to me, Plympton?” Montana asks, nudging him in the side. But then she spots him staring in the distance and her gaze settles where his is fixed so intently. “You know what’ll happen, you fucking idiot.”
Xavier finally pulls his gaze off you and drags a hand over the back of his neck. “I wasn’t even thinking about it, okay? I’m not fucking stupid.”
Montana scoffs because somehow, she doesn’t believe him one bit. Of everyone trapped and doomed to spend their afterlife in Camp Redwood, Xavier has struggled the hardest.
She places a hand against his bicep. “Come on, doofus. Lets just get you away from temptation, yeah? Before you wind up mopey and heartbroken and shit.”
But then, just as he’s walking away, you catch sight of him. And you rub your eyes as if you’re seeing things. And you shake your head. Before Xavier can come to you, Montana’s grabbed hold of him and blipped him up into the cabin farthest up in the grounds. Away from the cabins below.
Lavinia Richter knits her brows in concern. “Oh dear. What’s wrong, sweet boy?”
Her son looks up at Xavier and shakes his head. “I heard ‘em too. Stay the hell out of sight, kid. I mean it. It’s for your own good and their safety. We’ll work harder t’ make sure that bastard Ramirez stays trapped and can’t roam as much as usual.”
“It’s only a week.” Ray speaks up from the doorway and Chet nods solemnly. “Lot can happen in a week, man. Didn’t take this shit we’re stuck in more than a day or two, remember?”
“Yeah, well.”
Down below, you’re wandering around. Trying to find the guy you thought you saw earlier. Trying to blow off steam because once again, Seth is being a complete prick. You spot the dock and the sunlight glinting off the water and it’s so hot that you can’t resist taking a dip.
You make your way down and shed your cutoffs and the tank top you’d been wearing and you dive into the cool water of the lake. When you resurface, you happen to catch sight of a rundown cabin off in the distance on a high slope. And you’re almost certain you’ve seen someone standing in the window. A woman with bright platinum hair.
From the dock, Seth yells out to you and you ignore him because you’re just not ready to deal with him yet, continuing to splash around in the lake instead. Seth strips down and dives in with you, popping up while your back is turned and you scream when he covers your eyes.
You’ve heard all the stories about this place. You’re not sure why you agreed to come out and rebuild it after hearing everything that went down. But here you are.
“Jesus Christ, Seth.”
He laughs and teases you. “Such a little baby.”
“Asshole.”
“Aw c’mon. Don’t tell me you believe that haunted camp bullshit like Colin and Phoebe.”
You don’t answer because you’re too busy scanning the shore because you’re almost positive you’ve seen the same guy you saw minutes after your arrival and you’re almost sure you saw him sitting on the shore. Staring at you intently. Like he’s watching you.
Seth is starting to get handsy, his usual trick of sex to make you forget whatever shitty thing he’s gone and done and you swat his hands away, giving him an irritated look. “Stop it, Seth. No.”
“Aw, c’mon, darlin. Nobody will ever know,” he mumbles as his finger trails over your panties just below the dark surface of the water and you try to squirm away, “All I have to do is pull your bottoms to the side.” he’s trying to kiss your neck and you finally shove him off.
“You didn’t just forget a date this time, asshole. You fucked our roommate. In our bed. Fuck off, Seth. We’re done.”
He throws up his hands and calls out calmly, “You say that until Captain Morgan gets involved, babe. You’ll be back. I’m the best you’ll ever have. You even said it yourself.”
“Fucking six seconds lasting motherfucker, I hate you.” you grumble under your breath as you hurry to re-dress and get as far away from Seth as you can manage.
In your annoyed huff you find yourself body to body with him.
The guy you’ve been catching glimpses of all day long. And he’s all sweet smiles and baby blues dancing over your body. Biting his lip.
“Can I help you, sir?” you ask, stepping away a little because he’s migrated closer to you.
Xavier sighs. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah, kind of figured that one out for myself. Now I’m stuck and when I do leave, if I can’t get an Uber, I’m spending four hours trapped in that piece of shit over there,” you point to the jacked up SUV and continue as you rub your forehead, “With that piece of shit out in the water.”
Xavier shakes his head and it’s almost sad in a way because he’s just got a really, really weird feeling about the group of you showing up here. Now.
“None of you should be here.”
Your brow raises. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You can’t tell me you don’t know what the fuck you’ve walked into, kitten.” Xavier responds. Seth has caught sight of you both and he’s angry, heading straight for you.
“The fuck is this shit, huh?”
You grumble. You’re also clinging a little closer to his body and Xavier can’t help the way it overwhelms him. He’s been so long without some kind of physical touch. It’s driving him fucking insane. And you seem scared of the guy barrelling towards you both. Maybe more angry than afraid, but that fear is there and it’s got your eyes a little wild, a little bigger.
Xavier slips his arm around you and plasters on his best smirk.
“Gonna stop you now, meathead.” he speaks up, voice smooth and calm as silk and you can’t help but notice that somehow, it’s got you both a little wet and slightly afraid at the same time. Because there’s something dangerous in that voice and the way he’s smirking. “I’m taking your girl.”
Seth chuckles. “Mhm, right. You’re not even her type.”
You speak up before you can stop yourself. One wrong word and the asshole will abandon you out here in the middle of fuckin nowhere and you know it. He’s done it before.
And in that moment, you realize that you’re pathetic. You keep letting Seth sweet talk you and love bomb you until you’re back to the same vicious cycle and it’s been this way since at least junior year of high school. But you’re finally ready to call it quits. For good. Because he might’ve been an asshole up to this point but up to this point he hadn’t cheated on you. And then been callous enough that he didn’t bother hiding it after the fact.
And you weren’t going to take anymore of it.
“Actually, dipshit..” you speak up and Seth’s gaze settles on you. “Go on then, have your fun. Fuck this out of your system, get even with me.”
“We’re over this time, Seth. I’m being serious.” you respond. And it’s so calm that Seth looks just a little panicked. After he walks away to sulk, you take a few ragged breaths and collapse onto the bank. A hand thrown over your forehead. On the one hand, it feels as if you’ve lost his exact body weight in bullshit and baggage. On the other hand, you’ve managed to fuck yourself out of a way home at the end of the week.
Xavier stands there, arms folded. Gazing down at you.
“Are you okay, darlin?” he sinks down to sit beside you.
“I will be.. I think. I mean as soon as I fucking hitchhike four hours home at the end of the week.”
,, If you live til then.” Xavier thinks to himself solemnly.
You prop on your elbow and turn to the side, raising up to look at him. “Are you with Habitat?”
Xavier wants to tell you the truth but he knows that’ll do him no good just yet. Maybe in a day or two. After the usual weird shit happens and you all notice it and begin to panic and react accordingly. Then maybe you’ll at least listen to reason if he gets a little closer.
And he can tell himself this is his only plan, to keep you safe, but deep down, he knows it’s because he wants you. Not forever.
For now.
So when you repeat your question and he’s finally not distracted enough by your pillowy lips to answer, he flashes you his best charmers smirk. “Yeah.” he laughs. “I uh.. Signed up for it late.”
You smile and nod. “Awesome.” but in the back of your mind something feels off. Between the cryptic statement he made earlier and the dangerous vibe you're kind of picking up from him, something just feels off.
“My name is Xavier, by the way, darlin.” he introduces himself, chuckling because he’s been out of humanity for so long it’s as if he’s forgotten all the manners beaten into him at a young age. He stands and holds out a hand to help you up and warily, you take it.
Something about his name sounds familiar but you don’t say anything.
Because right now, you’re just grateful he got rid of Seth for you. And he seems like a nice guy, even though you can feel the danger as it radiates off of him.
But you’re on defensive right now.
Maybe you’re just being paranoid.. Right?
#xavier plympton#xavier plymton imagine#xavier plympton fanfiction#xavier plympton fanfic#xavier plympton x reader#xavier plympton x fem!reader
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Headcanons
to motivate me to write chapter three
these all take place after they're all together and are completely separate from the plot
tags: poly relationship, Sumeru Boys x GN! Reader, sfw, fluff, slight spoilers for the fic in the future but idgaf (wanderer/scara is now involved. I can't get him oUT OF MY HEAD)
cw: cursing (mild), mentions of the reader's parents (m&f, good relationship)
masterlist
Alhaitham
I'm gonna be totally honest rn if you're hella tall good for you but I see the reader as like Cyno height so keep that in mind
Haitham here is definitely going to do that thing where he pretends not to see/hear you because of your height (half because you startle him all the time since he doesn't see OR hear you approaching)
he's not that big of a fiction reader but he loves listening to you recount the plot of your latest favorite book or fic and sometimes he actually gets really into hearing you tell the story so if you leave him off on a cliffhanger if you need to go do something he will seek you out until you finish telling him the story
if you're in his way/can't reach something he just like,,, picks you up
say you're putting away the dishes or standing in front of a cabinet he'll lift you up by your waist either to help you reach something or to put you down somewhere else
smells really nice so sometimes you take his shirts or something when you're at home all day and you look like you're wearing a tent and he notices but doesn't say anything unless he wants to get his laundry done and reminds you to put his things you took in with the rest of it
both your parents have mixed feelings on him but he doesn't give any shits
Kaveh
You two definitely spend hours alone in the studio of your shared living space sketching either in silence or having the most distracted conversations ever
he'll be designing something meanwhile you're sketching one of your boyfriends (one of the actual ones or some character from a book you've decided is cute)
and he'll look up at you and ask "what's missing?" while holding up the sketch
you'll spin around (of course you've got the spinny chairs you aren't living unless you have a nice spinny chair) and peer over at it for a while, the either describe it or sketch something down silently and he'll go "that's exactly what it needed!"
and vice versa
say you're having trouble with a pose/lighting/detail and you'll point at it and say "how do I fix it" and he'll give you a few pointers or suggestions
eventually one of the others has to remind you to leave and go get some sunlight and both of you will be shocked at how much time has passed
also y'all know that voice line where he says he's already learned to play an instrument? you learned to play along with your father at a young age and now being able to play together makes both of you so happy 🥺🥺
I can totally see him trying to practice one day but just not being into it until he hears you harmonizing to what he's playing, either with your voice or your instrument of choice
and don't get me started on the improv opportunities
like he plays one pattern and you build off each other back and forth until you're both tired and giggling
he cherishes those moments with you the most, seeing as how art is so rarely appreciated as highly as academics in Sumeru
both of your parents adore him and ask about him all the time
Tighnari
as your Amurta senior he gets on your ass about schoolwork even more than Alhaitham 😔😔😔
but you don't mind since he helps you with your work rather often
he is the most worried about your health so he checks up on you rather often. if you're inside for too long, he'll ask you to take a walk outside with him. if you haven't eaten yet, he'll make you a meal and chastise you for forgetting to take care of yourself. if you've been a little overwhelmed lately, he will sit down with you and keep your mind off what is stressing you, either by snuggling with you and talking nonsense about fungi or a grooming session for the both of you (face masks and painting of nails, the whole shabang)
of the four, he also is the most critical of the way some (*cough cough*, Scara, Alhaitham, and Kaveh's endless bickering *cough cough*) of the others act around you. If you ever need a break from them, he is more than willing to pull you away.
very open with his feelings and affections for you, almost as much so as Kaveh, who is ever such a romantic
not against PDA, but if you're not a fan he keeps his hands to himself. in public, he loves soft, quick brushes of his hand against your back or cheek, a quick kiss stolen in the privacy of your home
also top tier cuddler. of all the five, he finds himself sleeping in your bed the most often.
your mother absolutely adores him
Cyno
he definitely had some trouble getting the hang of things in the beginning, especially with being affectionate
he gets very flustered 🤭🤭 sometimes you'll say something to him with so much adoration in your voice that he'll just go silent and stare at you with the most loving look in his eyes like he just witnessed magic
he once tried to throw in a pick-up line with his usual joking, but got wayyyy too embarrassed and ended up not saying the punchline, instead just staring at his feet with a mortified look
you love to play with his hair, trying out new hairstyles and cute accessories in his hair. any time you ask he'll sit down and let you do his hair. he doesn't say it, but he loves sitting like that, with his eyes closed and your thighs around his waist as he feels your fingers combing through his hair. sometimes he even lets you cut it if it's getting too bothersome or has a lot of split ends
gets along with your dad scarily well like you didn't think he would get past that awkward "yeah I'm dating your child yeah I know it's weird yeah please don't hate me" stage but now your dad texts him every day and they go back and forth making jokes all day every day
he taught your dad emojis and now it's the only way your dad communicates with you
there are so many more for him that I can't say yet because it spoils the plot
Scaramouche / Wanderer
as the newest victim of your allure, he still is getting used to the dynamic of the group
since he's the only one the same age as you, you have a lot more core classes together. he also follows you around and glares at anyone who he doesn't deem worthy of your time.
when he's not with you, he talks about you all the time. he thinks about you constantly. it's a little insufferable, to be honest. he's a complete ass to your classmates, and he still holds a grudge against them. for what I can't tell you yet 😔
he spends the most time in your room, just observing you and being near you. he'll complain about something or other while you do your school work, and you'll listen and smile. he sneaks closer and closer until he's practically draping himself over you and you give up on finishing your work, instead opting to hold him and tease him for being so clingy
your animals won't leave him alone. they follow him around *almost* as much as you
your mother hates him, your father thinks he could bother to be a little more respectful to others, but otherwise likes him
taglist: @ratty-rat-toot @em-asian @hypernovaxx @surgeonsofazaroy @xiaosimper @i-loveyou013 @strwbrysweets
let me know if you want to be added! (if your name is in bold, it means I can't tag you)
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Nostalgia
Ship: Kazuha x April | Word Count: 1506 | Warnings/Tags: food mention (again like vague), so sappy, proposal <3
A/N: surprise? ehe~ this is the official announcement I suppose that we're also engaged <3 I'll post the art in a few minutes~~ (and come back and link where it goes in the fic, I like when I did that for scara's :3 -- also this is set in-canon around the Irodori Festival for those who have game knowledge ^-^ I hope you enjoy it~ 💞
"Well, isn't this nostalgic?" April asks softly as she takes in the dark, mystical ambience of the Chinju Forest. "I almost forgot what this place was like…"
"I know what you mean," Kazuha murmurs, a small smile on his lips. "Remember that one time we played hide and seek here and you got so upset that you couldn't find me?" His tone turns teasing and April huffs, though there's a playful sparkle in her eyes.
"You cheated! I never said you could hide up in one of the trees!" If she weren't so keen on holding one of his hands, she'd cross her arms in childish indignation. As it is, she's fighting to keep from giggling.
"Ah, but you never said I couldn't, dove. Besides, I gave you that dango to cheer you up, remember?" Kazuha asks, his smile widening a little.
"Right! I'd forgotten about that… Huh, seems you've spoiled me from the beginning," April teases, grinning when his cheeks go red, barely able to be seen in the atmosphere of the forest.
Kazuha doesn't speak, instead he leads her through the forest until they reach one of the cliffs overlooking the ocean. They sit down together and Kazuha smiles at the automatic way April curls into his side, her warmth always a welcome one.
"Honestly… I'm surprised we didn't get together sooner," Kazuha murmurs after a while of silence, drawing a little curious sound from April. "You're right. I have been spoiling you since we were kids. Mainly because I knew there was something about you… something I had to keep in my life no matter what."
"I know what you mean," April says, her heart fluttering at his words. "You caught my attention immediately and I just knew we had to be friends. Sure, I didn't imagine it would end up like this, but… I'm happy we found each other."
"Mm…" Kazuha hums, turning to press a kiss to her temple. "I am as well. I don't know what life would have been like without you, but I know it wouldn't have been as sweet as it's been. As for now… I can't picture a future without you in it. One without you by my side… it just doesn't make sense."
April laughs softly, her face heating up. Somehow even after all these years, it still takes just a few pretty words from him to make her blush. "It's the same for me. That's why I plan to stick beside you. No matter what you plan to do."
"Mm…" Kazuha trails off, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "C'mon. The wind calls for us to head into the city for a bit."
"Hah, are you sure you're not hungry?" April teases and Kazuha chuckles.
"Maybe so… Then I was thinking we visit Araumi one more time before returning to Ritou."
"Sounds good."
The two stand up and work their way back out of the forest and down towards Inazuma City. Once there, they stop at a food stall and grab something to eat as well as some desserts for the visit to Araumi.
They eat together before setting off. "You know… it is strange to be back here. I know we have been back during the end of the Vision Hunt Decree but we didn't stay this long…" April murmurs.
"I know. It is odd to be here without having to be on edge as well," Kazuha says. They're always so in sync. He'd been feeling the exact same way the whole visit, even before when they were simply staying in Ritou for the Irodori Festival. It doesn't surprise him that they felt the same way. Not when they know each other so well.
"Exactly! It is nice, though, to see everything. It hasn't changed much…" April lets out a soft laugh, both of them knowing that that is due to their archon.
Kazuha chuckles as well. "It truly hasn't… Do you ever see yourself coming back here and settling down?" He asks quietly.
"Hmm. I could see it. But only if that is what you would want. I'd settle anywhere in Teyvat so long as we're together," April muses. "Or even if we never quite settle down. So long as I'm with you… life will be perfect."
"And you say I'm the one with a way with words…" Kazuha murmurs with a soft laugh.
They fall silent again until they reach their destination. They settle under one of the sakura trees and begin snacking on the dessert they'd bought.
Kazuha's eyes sparkle as he leans closer, brushing a stray bit of syrup from the corner of April's lips. He holds eye contact with her as he brings his thumb to his mouth, licking it clean while she blushes. "Sweet. But you're sweeter."
"Kazuha," April whines, her face feeling hot.
"Yes, my sweet? You know it's true," Kazuha murmurs, his eyes sparkling playfully. April whines and hides her face in his shoulder.
"You are dangerous," She murmurs softly. The only problem about knowing each other as well as they do is that they also know the best, most effective ways to fluster the other.
Kazuha simply chuckles and they finish the dessert with no interruptions. "Come here. Let me hold you a little while before we go back." Kazuha opens his arms, pleased when April easily settles into his lap and snuggles in close.
"You know… your words have got me thinking…" Kazuha murmurs, brushing his fingers through her hair softly. "I had already been tempted, but now… I really would like to ask you something. All I request is that you don't interrupt until I'm done."
"Kazuha?" April asks, but he simply looks at her expectantly. "I… okay."
"Good. Now, my precious dove, this whole trip has my thoughts all awhirl… As I mentioned earlier, I cannot see a feasible future without you in my life. You have been there for me when no one else was and you have seen every side of me that exists, yet you love all of me without question. You know I love you the same. For all your flaws, you are perfect in my eyes. You are my muse, my best friend, my lover, the reason I wake up every day, and more…"
While he speaks, Kazuha keeps gently playing with her hair, his eyes never straying from hers. And the longer he speaks, the more her stomach is filled with butterflies, anticipation lighting up every nerve as it builds.
"April, darling, I already have some semblance of an idea what your answer will be. But I find it remiss if I did not ask you this trip. It feels like fate has led us here for a reason, for this reason… So, my dearest, my most beloved…"
Kazuha has kept her attention so solidly on him, on his eyes, that she hasn't noticed him pulling a small bag out of one of his satchels. His fingers tug open the little drawstring bag and empties its contents into his hand.
"Would you do me the honor of becoming your husband? Would you marry me?" Kazuha asks, holding the ring up between his fingers, finally catching her attention with it.
The ring itself is relatively simple: a silver band with a pretty ruby as the centerpiece. But April recognizes it. "Kazuha… have you really had this since then??" She asks quietly and Kazuha chuckles softly.
"But, of course. This ring caught my love's eye. I just knew it had to be your engagement ring…"
"When did you? You didn't buy it when we were together…?" She asks softly, her eyes widening as he chuckles again.
"You got it. Beidou distracted you the next afternoon while I went back to the stall and bought it for you." Kazuha looks so proud of himself that it makes her smile. "As for your answer?"
"Of course, I'll marry you!" April says, tears pricking her eyes at how sweet this whole thing is.
Kazuha smiles at her, a soft little thing that takes her breath away. His fingers are gentle as he lifts her left hand and slides the ring into place, taking her hand and brushing a kiss over the ring.
April's breath catches in her throat and she loops her arms around his neck, pressing their foreheads together. "I'm getting you a ring," She says softly.
He simply chuckles. "If that's what you wish. I'm simply happy you said yes."
"As if I'd say no. You're it for me, Kazuha, you know that."
Kazuha brings her in for a soft kiss at that, his eyes sparkling with delight once the kiss is over. "Now, my dove, it is up to you when we return to Ritou. We can stay here as long as you'd like… or at least until sundown." He lets out a soft laugh at that.
"A little longer. I want you to myself a bit more."
"That sounds perfect, my dove."
And so, they stay there cuddled up, relishing the joy of holding their fiancé.
#/yes/ i know i hinted that xiao would propose today but... i still need to write his fic ehe~ so sometime soon#self ship#self shipping#self insert fanfiction#self insert fic#self ship fic#self insert#canon x si#canon x self insert#si x canon#self insert x canon#blanketed by autumn leaves💖🍁#my writing#crow don't look
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fic writer tag game
@to-proudly-go thank u for the tag pal <3<3 (I very definitely love your poetic angst & your art)
How many works do you have on ao3?
25 :) 15 for hp and 10 for star wars
What's your ao3 word count?
144,107!
What fandoms do you write for?
hp and star wars, though I've definitely brought the marauders fandom habits (delusional obsession w main character's dad and his best friends) straight to the prequels
What are your top five fics by kudos?
"trust" the inscription said (hp/wolfstar)
then he came home (hp/wolfstar)
don't let's die as heroes (hp/jegulily)
the prophecies spoke of you and I (sw/obikin) (which is also my most recent work, so it's crazy to me that it's up here)
slipped back in (hp/wolfstar)
Do you respond to comments?
I always do eventually!! even if it's the smallest comment I like to send a smiley face in reply. It's just that I might take forever coming up with what to say, especially for the super nice ones ;3;
What's the fic you write with the happiest ending?
hmm I'd say don't let's die as heroes for the marauders (literally turns 3 canonical funerals into a wedding) and Designation for obikin. & I usually write happy endings (minus canon fics) even if they're more "the future is uncertain but bright" rather than happily ever afters
Do you get hate on fics?
none so far! & they better not because if I do get hate I will cry
Do you write smut? What kind?
listen. listen. this is a whole Thing. as your neighbourhood ace, smut is like science fiction/horror to me. which is to say I have written both mlm and wlw sex scenes lol. it happens very rarely, but it has happened before & will happen again.
Do you write cross-overs?
I hope you know that I'm constantly thinking about how sirius/remus and anakin/obi-wan are homomorphic creatures and I really want them to meet. but also, so far, no. except if you count the wolfstar sw au sitting in the docs.
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
not afaik!
Have you ever had a fic translated?
not afaik either!
Have you ever cowritten a fic before?
I don't think so, but I would absolutely love to try
What's your all time favourite ship?
wolfstar and obikin are the same ship actually, so both. (unserious)
What's your WIP you like to finish, but doubt you ever will?
I read back on What You Will earlier today and scared myself so possibly that. (it's a jegulily parody of Shakespeare's twelfth night, and has already been rewritten from scratch twice, so maybe mayyybe there's a sign)
What are your writing strengths?
errrrr. occasionally poetic-ish description? I like writing pretty vibes. and occasionally punchy-feely stuff. where you stand above & survey a life through tiny poignant snippets far apart. quite a few of my fics are like that
What are your writing weaknesses?
so many. definitely more than I'm aware of too. I feel I'm awful at pacing & easily get bogged down in tiny details, which is why long fics have not worked out for me lol. It's also hard for characters to feel real to me, like I'd just stop in the middle of a story and think "my darling I do not understand you at all"
Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I definitely love when I see them, but I've not tried it myself. it feels impossible to merge Mandarin and English in a way that feels natural (or write it down in English characters), even though come to think of it I do it with my brother all the time. huh.
First fandom you wrote for?
drarry! and I still wanna go back sometimes
Favourite fic you've ever written?
awh but I always like them better before they're words on the screen/on ao3. ideas are just pure vibes and potential yk? rather than a dozen annoying imperfections you're not good enough to fix. lol sorry, if I have to pick, Once Upon a Green Haze. it's unfinished & only has 3 chapters for now, but I like them.
I've seen this going around the dash for a while now, so open tag :)
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rules: pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the mid point, pick a line, and share it! then tag 10 people.
I was tagged by @ygrittebardots ages ago & I'm finally getting around to this oh god okay here goes. (this turned into an absolute roulette of definitely more than one line.)
death by honey
He knows it’s going to happen, so he keeps an easy, mild smile and his eyes fixed on Owens even as the warm pads of Sirius’ fingers curl their way around his neck and into the soft hair at the nape. He keeps his gaze fixed on Owens — not a threat, and oh-so-pleasant — as Sirius kisses him on the forehead, then the cheek, then at last so very chastely on the mouth.
civilian
For Ted’s part, three years of uni haven’t come cheap, but an apprenticeship in September at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement certainly feels like the start of a future. He wants her to be part of it. He wants everyone to know it.
marginalia
March 10th. March 10th, 1960. He’s seventeen years old. Vaguely, Remus feels like it should be more monumental, knowing that. It doesn’t. Because it’s his birthday. If what she's telling him is true, then it’s his birthday. His age. Two things that truly belong to him and him alone — that, and his name. That’s all he’s ever had. That’s all he’s ever been able to keep without someone taking it away.
a history of violence
Remus doesn’t touch. He only looks, raking his gaze over this man who he loves — this man who he trusts — that gorgeous blush rising in Sirius’ high cheeks, the hunger and the want and that knowledge implicit between them that Remus could bring him undone at any minute if he chose. That Sirius would let him every time.
pomegranates
That clenching fist in her chest squeezes tight, threatening to wring out the mortifying release of years for all to see. Every cropped haircut and boy’s school robe. Every approving nod over such proper pureblood sons. Every eligible girl her parents ever foisted on her, and decidedly not because she’s a bit of a queer anyway.
until our ribs get tough
There’s an almighty creak as the door swings open, the wet squelch of soaked boots in mud, and even with her hand slapped against Remus’ mouth in abrupt panic, Lily can only hope and pray that the briny smell of murtlap essence clutched in his hand isn’t so strong as to give the pair of them away.
commercial allure
But all at once now they’ve stopped wrestling, and Remus has somehow ended up underneath Sirius, who's hovering just above him, and oh buggering fuck, that’s what this is. The way he can’t look at him, these days. The way he can’t seem to open his mouth without making an utter tit of himself. The way Sirius radiates brighter than the sun, a warmth that Remus can’t get enough of, but also can’t get too close to for fear of burning.
the story goes
Sirius Black is not the rule. He, somehow, against all odds, has always been the exception. So Remus is naked now — in their bed, in their flat — but for that tiny gold charm and the ravaging scars of sixteen years of transformations, baring himself to the man who helps him remember how to stand tall.
forward motion
Sirius recognizes the signs. Harry was never supposed to grow up like that. He was supposed to grow up like James. He wasn't supposed to grow up like him.
yours if you want it
“I’m trying to tell you you're allowed to have things, you knob. You get to make it mean what you like. You want a Christmas tree? Let’s get a bloody Christmas tree. I’ve never had one before but sod it, I want one if it makes you happy. We’re allowed to make our own traditions. And if you like any of the poncy Yule shite you grew up with instead, we can do that, too. Because that’s still yours, if you want it. Get me? Not theirs. Yours.”
tagging @sweetpeasandlilies, @soloorganaas, @femme--de--lettres, @sliebman10, @crushofdoves, @nymphaea-auri, @squintclover, @impishtubist, @mkaugust, @lunapwrites, and @petalstofish for luck :)
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Prohibited wish haters unite
i don't know who you are............but you're so right, hold on i have things to say on this
i want to say my personal discomfort stems from my..bordering unhealthy attatchment to scarab as my f/o [as i type this the body pillow is LOOKING at me] hence why i don't and never really liked..interacting with the ship, but to each their own yaknow? if you like the pair i won't come at you. [and this still goes, pwish shipping mutuals i don't hate yall] ive just had people take my scarab yearning posts before tag it as "haha prismo coded" and its upset me before
It was only when the the whole reveal in episode 10 with scarab to me shown stuck in the time room now that the ship got very saturated which i get, But the more attention drawn to the ship the more it drew in........a really bad crowd. a lot and i mean a LOT of proshippers. I want to say its died down now as i don't see much gross scarab content nowadays [then again i stick to tumblr.] but it really bothered me how scarab was treated.
i enjoy prismo very much as a charecter i think he's a silly guy but he has not burrowed a nest into my skull like scarab has so i want to say i'm only qualified to talk about scarab in this regard. The community [i want to state casual shippers this is not you. this is very specific people] had a habit of ......putting scarab in compromising positions teetering on s/a [most of the time this was done using nightmo as prismo's "evil mode?"] and in a lot of comics and fics they water scarab down to this "NOT LIKE I LIKE YOU OR ANYTHING GRR" type of charecter..ignoring....evreything interesting about him. [i want to say good pwish fics likley exist..i just don't read them as for personal reasons the ship makes me uncomfortale.] also.....orbo got caught in the crossfire and he god DEMONIZED over a headcanon. [i like the headcanon but holy scales guys..chill on the ball dude a bit?]
I think the ships main problem is it caught on so fast that it attracted some really bad crowds and since scarab is a very new charecter to the adventure time universe, any solo enjoyment of him was swept away in favor of shipping him with prismo.,,,,,,,speaking of prismo...so many artists in this community will WHITEWASH his ass
also this....community has a problem with exposing nsfw content to minors. granted this is an issue ive only seen on twitter but in the begining of pwish getting popular i'd check the scarab tag like evrey few hours [yeah i....i love this man.] and withought FAIL i'd get what i dub "scarab pussy jumpscared" because artists would not know how to tag their porn. Eventually the pwish commuity came up with a seperate tag for their nsfw BUT THEY'D STILL TAG THE CHARECTER'S NAMES EXPOSING ANYONE LOOKING FOR JUST PRISMO OR JUST SCARAB CONTENT TO BUG VAGINA. its a lot more laxed here on tumblr ive noticed but hough was it BAAD on twitter.
It just makes me sad scarab really lacks the attention he deserves, instead being cast aside to be ship fodder....... anyways before i end this LONG rant i would like to enter into the
PERSONAL INTERPRETATION ZONE!!!
[disclaimer this is all my personal viewing of prismo ad scarab as charecters, if somebody reading this views them in a different way that is fine by me !!]
Ok...so personally i don't...... see pwish working even if it did happen, i like the idea of them being exes and even qpps in the future [in...in lymanlore they become close friends i just don't like mentioning it in fear of my thoughts being taken as me shipping them when i DON'T scarab is married to lyman in this universe get out of my HEAD.]
i just see these two ending up very bad for eachother with prismo being very depressed after jake's death i don't...think dating a man with no idea how to show sympathy as a rebound is healthy. scarab is his own bundle of issues and despite me being his husband i don't think kiss kiss will fix it </3
ALSO WHOEVER YOU ARE..WHOEVER THE FUCK YOU ARE ANON FEEL FREE TO DM ME ABOUT THIS I LOVE TALKING ABOUT MY DISDAIN FOR PWISH.
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