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ashfae · 9 months

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The thing about romance is, it makes a good story.

As soon as Neil described season 2 as "quiet, gentle, romantic" I figured we'd be in for it, because as he's the first to point out, writers are liars. And the best way to deceive is with truth.

Season 2 is romantic. The trappings of romance are everywhere. Crowley tries to set up Nina and Maggie by trapping them under an awning during a rainstorm, a classic cinematic bonding technique. Aziraphale's chosen method comes from his beloved books: the ball, the dancing, appearing as a pair in public, hands held as you twirl gracefully with your heart thrilled and racing. If they can set up a sensational kiss that will unlock the happy ever after. They've lived on earth, they've studied the tropes, they know how romance works.

The problem is a story is only a story.

Nina and Maggie had the classic romantic setup completely by accident before Aziraphale and Crowley ever began trying to interfere with them. They get locked in Nina's coffeeshop. They can't escape or communicate with anyone else, they end up talking by candlelight because there's no electricity, Nina offers wine. Maggie mentions how she'd hoped for a chance to talk to Nina, and now here they are. It's every bit as much a standard as what Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to arrange. Blanket scenarios galore exist because of that starting point. We love that story. And there's nothing wrong with that.

But it's still only a story, it's not enough. Because once that moment of connection is over, however lovely it was, all the rest of the world comes flooding back in in the form of dozens of angry text messages. Nina's messy entrapping relationship hasn't magically gone away just because she and Maggie shared a romantic encounter.

And it's so tempting think oh well, that's easy. We'll just give them more romantic encounters and eventually those will overwhelm the rest of the baggage. Must do, because it'll make them fall in love, and once they realize they're in love that trumps all other considerations, right? So it'll be fine. Love Conquers All.

Neil also mentioned Pride and Prejudice.

Darcy knows he's in love early on and makes a disasterous proposal that shows that he has no understanding of Elizabeth's perspective, possibly hasn't even thought about it. They've been meeting in forest lanes for walks, conversing, had tete-a-tetes in the sitting room, danced at a ball. And while his turn of phrase isn't as flattering as he thinks, he's still offering her everything he thinks she wants and needs: affection, security, his good name, wealth, an escape from the embarrassments of her situation, the world. How can there be anything to object to? Why would anyone ever refuse so much of value?

Elizabeth quite rightly cuts him to pieces. He lashes back with a few hard truths of his own and they separate. During that separation, he thinks and he learns. He takes to heart the criticisms she offered, re-examines his assumptions, opens his eyes. Thinks about her perspective and how sometimes the only difference between pride and arrogance is where you're standing. He does the work. When they meet again he tries to demonstrate that he's learned--not in order to court her again (yet), but because the only real apology he can offer, the only one that would have weight, is to show that he's grown, he listened to her. He changed.

Elizabeth of course has her own journey, accepting that many of her own conclusions about Darcy were erroneous because they were formed without her having the full picture to hand, and once she's done that she has to apply it to her own situation as well. She loves her family, but they do place her at a disadvantage on a number of levels, leading eventually to full-out disaster as her younger sister carelessly ruins all of their reputations. It's hard to admit, it's mortifying, but Darcy was offering her a great deal she needs. His offer did have worth for all that she dismissed it as an insult. And as she learns to value his own character more highly, and then as she sees that he did listen to her even though she insulted him so thoroughly...well, she grows too. And when they do eventually come together it's not because of courting and balls. There's a big romantic gesture in his rescue of her sister but even that isn't why they'll get their happy ever after. It was just the catalyst for the conversation. They win because they've learned how to understand each other and how to communicate for the future. How they can strengthen and support each other, how to balance their strengths and weaknesses. The films leave them at the wedding, but the book shows a bit of their marriage too, and during it they keep learning from each other. Their relationship is held up as a superior love story for good reasons.

The end of season one was romantic too. Crowley stopped time rather than face a world where Aziraphale would never speak to him again, Aziraphale walked into hell to protect Crowley, they dined at the Ritz and toasted the world. But then they stopped. Sure they spent time together, talked, enjoyed each other's company. But if they were talking about important things would Crowley still be living in his car? They had a bit of respite but all that real world baggage that exists outside of the romantic moment hasn't been faced, none of it. Four or five years sounds like a long while but for beings who are quite literally older than the earth? That's just an intermission.

Nina's relationship ends, leaving her with a tangled mess; Maggie realises the sweet dream of love she's been longing for isn't as important as the real Nina. They talk. They plan. Nina will sort through her life, get closure, figure out what went wrong with Lindsay and what she wants from a relationship, learn how to ask for respect instead of just bending under her partner's demands. Maggie will support Nina the way Nina needs, which sometimes means helping her get oat milk for the shop and sometimes means giving her processing space. They're on the same page; they're going to do the work. That's why most likely they'll succeed. To quote one of my favourite fanfics: it's not happily ever after, but it's a chance. It's all going to be okay. (The Profane Comedy by Mussimm, who absolutely nailed this theme)

The romance is nice, it's lovely. We need it to keep ourselves going. To give ourselves the dreams that help us get through the days and nights. But it's not the relationship. It's not enough on its own. The wedding can be the grandest most beautiful ceremony ever with doves flying and sweeping music and bells ringing, but that doesn't guarantee the marriage will last.

Crowley and Aziraphale have had their romantic gestures, oodles of them. One wing raised to protect the other from falling stars, another from rain. Shared ground, shared interests, hands offered in friendship and held on a bus. They've tried to get to the same page, they really have. They just aren't there yet. The biggest most important things still haven't been talked about, and season 2 showed there are even more of those big important things than we'd realised.

The show paints Maggie as Aziraphale's foil and Nina as Crowley's, even to the point of Nina casually calling Maggie 'angel'. But Aziraphale's baggage is Nina's. The toxic relationship has to be processed and understood and closed, and it hasn't been, despite season one. Lindsay never really liked Nina very much, for all that they tried to keep her trapped; Heaven never really liked Aziraphale very much for all that he believed in it. They both let themselves be used. But Lindsay left Nina and went to their sister's, whereas now the head of Heaven has reached out to Aziraphale and said here, we can fix this, you can fix this, don't you want to fix this? Others are already writing about that and maybe I'll add to it later, not sure. And Crowley, like Maggie, has had a sweet dream that he has to set aside. Maybe he'll be able to pick it up again eventually, maybe not. But sometimes you offer support by buying oat milk or rescuing your beloved from the legions of hell, and sometimes you do it by standing back while they sort through their shit.

Quiet, gentle, romantic. It was.

But that's only part of the story. Now they have to do the work. They thought they had, but they were wrong, because there's so much they just hadn't touched yet and tried to cover over with relief and sleight of hand and alcohol and forgiveness. The apology dance doesn't mean much without showing that you listened and learned. They've faced so much trauma already and that should have been enough, we wanted it to be enough and so did they and it's such a blow for it to turn out that there's still more to do, that the baggage hasn't just gone away and can't be hidden under blankets or soothed with cocoa. The texts are still coming in and demanding answers.

But it'll be okay. It will. It's still a chance. And one that in the long run makes them better, builds something real that lasts.

The best stories, the ones that last longest and become classics, are the ones that don't end with the kiss under the awning or the blanket scenario or the wedding. They're the ones that heal us while the characters heal themselves. It's hard to accept that there's still more to do. Harder to imagine how it can possibly work out. And yes, bloody frustrating to wait and see.

And we'll get through that interim by telling even more stories. Because the story is never just a story. It's how we get through the work, it's what we tell ourselves so we can do the damn work. Stories are what we cling to and how we remind ourselves we're human and connect. A book is a person you can carry with you. We're not alone, none of us, stories connect us because we love them and see ourselves in them, which means we see each other.

Aziraphale's back up in Heaven to deal with his unfinished baggage; Crowley left his behind long ago and it's clearly going to come back and bite him in the arse however much he tries to go his own way. And they can't help each other with that. Not yet.

But they'll get there. So will we.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #nina #maggie #nina and maggie #stories #romance #relationships #am I projecting here #of course I am isn't that the whole point?#pride and prejudice #elizabeth and darcy #quiet gentle romantic #good omens meta

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sttm99 · 1 month

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Only Ever You and Me

Prince!Bakugo x reader.

Part 2 of Till Death Do Us Part

After the wedding ceremony, you and Bakugo retired to your chambers for the night. He sat at the edge of the bed, faced away from you, his elbows on his knees as he tried coming to terms with everything.

He'd just gotten married. He'd just been wed... to you. He turned back to look at you, watching you as you sit by the large vanity by the windows, pulling at all the pins that held your hair up.

You seemed so calm with this, so at ease despite the fact that you'd just gotten married to a man you'd met no more than 3 times before. Despite the fact that you'd practically claimed ownership over him just moments ago, despite him confessing to you that he loved someone else.

Your possessiveness had thrust him into an unfamiliar playing field. He'd expected someone timid, meek, a woman whom he could intimidate into keeping shut whilst he snuck around with the maid.

But you? Frankly, you intimidated him instead.

He'd realised what he found off about how perfect and regal you seemed. Sure, there was the fact that you may have slight obsessive tendencies laying claim to him like that. But before then, he'd realised that you just intimidated him.

You were the perfect royal, the perfect ruler his people deserved. From all he'd seen about you; you could reassure people, play court so effectively, and you had an energy that made people want to serve you.

He watched, breath hitching as you stood and began untying the sashes that held your dress up, walking towards the divider at the other side of the room, where your wardrobe was.

Even the way you walked was perfect.

You were so... perfect.

The perfect queen for his people.

He frowned as he stood from the bed. He pulled off his coat, threw it into the hamper at the edge of his bed, and then pulled his undershirt over his head and did the same.

"I've been thinking..." he turned his head to face you as you stepped out from behind the divider, now dressed in a flimsy, pale nightgown stopping just below your knees.

"About what?" Bakugo asked harshly with furrowed brows as he sat back on the bed.

"That servant girl you were looking at." You say as you go over to the bed, sitting atop it, a few spaces away from him. "How long has it been going on?"

He frowns deeply at that, glaring at you. "Of what use is that information?"

You shrug, leaning over to him. "These women, you know.... what if she's keeping your child or something-"

"Excuse me?" He spits out, growing angry at your words. Not only had you called her 'this woman', but also insinuating that he'd father a child out of wedlock.

He had some honour, at least. He wouldn't do that to her, to his love. He wouldn't have her keep a child who couldn't even call him his father.

But you just scoff and roll your eyes. "Oh, please. I'm being cautious. I don't need some bastards contesting the crown with our sons when the time comes."

He glares, a brow raised. "Our sons? Contesting the crown? You're thinking too far ahead."

"Far ahead? There's no far ahead with us, Katsuki. We're husband and wife, we should think of our chil-"

"In paper only." He cuts you off. "We're wed on paper only. The history books? Paper. The marriage contracts? Paper! My heart will always be with someone else! With her! You? You're just a position. Even if not you, there would have been another princess for me to marry!"

His words have you glaring, and you're standing, facing him from the other side of the bed. "We've been promised to each other since birth. There is no other princess to marry, Katsuki. It has always been me for you, and you for me. I was always going to be the one you end up with."

There's a glint in your eye as you speak, a sternness and finality in your voice that has him faltering in imagining a reality where he wasn't married to you, as though there really was no one else for him.

"This- this thing you have with that woman is nothing. It's not real. But us? We have the opportunity to create something real, okay? We're married now. We have all our lives to learn to love each other!"

"You're delusional!"

"I'm real!" You yell out. "What's delusional is you going ahead to cultivate a romance with a girl you knew you'd never be with. You've always known you had to marry me, and yet you went ahead to start something with someone you could never have!"

You pause then, taking small breaths as you look at him. "I've always known I'd end up with you. So I didn't bother giving my heart to anyone else." You glare. "You think I'm delusional. But here you are, tricking yourself into believing you could ever be with anyone other than me. If that's not delusion, then tell me what is."

There's silence for several long moments. Bakugo's frozen, hands clenched by his side, chest heaving and lips parted.

You're right.

You're obviously right.

He's always known he would end up with you. He'd always known he'd have no one else but you. Yet he went ahead and started something he knew would have no end. There was no future for him and the other woman.

Because that's all she'd ever be.

The other woman.

The only one he could be with was standing right in front of him.

"I-" He tries to speak, tries to find the words to convey how he's feeling.

"You should send her away," you say as you climb into the bed, settling under the covers. "You'll only break your own heart, allowing her to continue to stay here."

You try to drift off to sleep, try to block out the sounds of Bakugo shuffling into the bed. Until he's pressed up against you from behind, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"What- what are you doing?" You whisper, still facing away from him.

But he just sighs into your neck and pulls you closer to him. "You're right," he murmurs into your skin. "It was only ever going to be me and you... there's nothing else it could have been."

You hum, letting yourself relax in his hold. He's warm, and he's big, his large frame practically folding over you.

"I'll send her away," he says softly, pressing his lips to your neck.

"Good," you murmur, letting your hand rest over his on your stomach. "It'll only be you and me."

And he nods, "Only you and me, my wife."

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bnha x reader #bakugo fluff

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utterlyotterlyx · 2 months

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White Flag

Cassian x Rhys!Sister Reader

Summary - There had never been a moment where you and Cassian had seen eye to eye, despite his attempts to make peace and make a friend of you, it wasn't something that you wanted.

Warnings - angst, swearing, teasing, back and forth banter, mentions of blood

The Day Court had become your home from the moment you had decided that you couldn't bear to be around Cassian any longer. Luckily, Helion was a good friend of yours even if he wasn't overly fond of your brother and his inner circle. and granted you sanctuary before you had even finished asking him the question.

A part of you didn't even know how it had all started, that outlandish flare of dramatic hatred that passed between you whenever you were too close. Maybe he was threatened by your athletic prowess and strength, maybe you despised how often a new female ended up in his bed

Things had come to an abrupt head when you had punched him square in the nose for making a comment about your mood, asking if your cycle was drawing near. Blood gushed from his nostrils and he stuttered back a few steps, cradling the now broken bone and groaning as blood dripped onto the floor.

"Why is he bleeding?" Rhys had enquired after entering the room, sensing the stench of blood through the closed door of his office.

Cassian stood by the sink, bloody rag clasped around the injured affect, "Because he's an idiot," you replied with astounding calmness, feet propped up on the arm of the chair and your fingers flipping idly through the pages of your book.

"I didn't know that idiocy caused people to just start spontaneously bleeding from the nose."

You had hummed, a smirk pulling at your lips when you noticed Cassian's hazel gaze ripping through you, "I think it's a new phenomenon."

Rhys had usually kept out of your spats, like the rest of the inner circle, they knew your sass was not something to play with, it was unfortunate how Cassian skipped over that fact.

Then there were the countless family dinners that were interrupted, and sometimes ruined, by your joint fire.

"You know, Cassian," his ears pricked upward but his eyes narrowed, he'd like to believe that maybe for once you'd say something nice to him, to stop this feud between you, "Remember that one time I said that you were cool?" He nodded, falling victim to another one of your games as the room held a collective breath, Rhys already pinching the bridge of his nose, "I lied."

Cassian growled, slamming his fork down on the table and standing from his seat, the chair skidding along the wood with his brute force, "I can't help imagining how much more awesome the world would be if your dad had just pulled out."

You were smirking, that shit-eating smirk you always wore when you managed to get him to bite, "Please, save your breath, Cassian," you cooed obnoxiously, popping a honey soaked carrot into your mouth, "You'll probably need it to blow up your next date."

Azriel had choked on his wine and you spared him a sidelong glance, convincing yourself that if Cassian's red face turned one shade darker then he'd surely erupt in flames.

Then there were the missions that Rhys had assigned you and Cassian to, he thought forcing you two to work together would put an end to the nonsense that was your tiff. Azriel was the unlucky one who had to accompany you both so that you didn't wind up killing one another.

An ash arrow hurtled past your face, grazing the tip of your pointed ear, you had dodged its full puncture successfully and heaved out a sigh as you took cover behind a nearby tree, "Oh my gosh, did you see that?! I almost just died!"

Cassian had sauntered past you, sword coated in the blood of your enemies, strands of brown hair falling from his bun, and dirt dusting the side of his face, he grinned at you, "Tragic that you didn't."

Azriel audibly groaned, sick of both of you, it had been three full days of trudging around the outskirts of the winter court, he was freezing, Cassian was making his head pound with his constant complaining, and you were certainly catching a cold.

The Shadowsinger had finally had enough when he had heard you and Cassian arguing at the edge of the clearing, the latter had gone to bathe, to wipe away the blood and dirt from his skin, only to turn around and find that his clothes had been plucked from the bank.

"I didn't do it," you told him through laughs as Azriel approached, Cassian was stood in the water up to his impeccable v line, fists clenched and seething through his teeth as his body shivered from the cold.

"Then why are you laughing?!"

You were leaned against the trunk of a tree, clad in your warm clothing that Rhys had insisted you wear, badass or not, you were still his little sister, "Because whoever did it is a freaking genius."

Rhys had had enough of it. Of all of it.

An ultimatum had been delivered to you both, after being pulled into Rhys' office by the scruffs of your necks by Azriel, you had been told that one of you had to move out of the House of Wind permanently. Though, Rhys' plans of keeping you apart had completely backfired when you had stood up and told him that you were leaving the Night Court altogether, the words shaking the room enough that even Cassian felt guilty that your feud had become so severe that you actually wanted to leave your home court.

"And go where?" Rhys had rose, that power pulsating around him like a heartbeat, a drowning effect that made you all feel dizzy as his eyes darkened and jaw clenched.

"The Day Court," you stated like it was already decided, "Helion has offered me a place within his court and I accepted. I leave tonight."

"Over my dead body!" Rhys rumbled, it was deadly enough for even Azriel's shadows to cower behind him whilst Cassian looked at you bewildered.

Ticking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you quipped, "Well, go lay down and die then because I'm not going to be told what to do, especially not by you."

"You are my sister. You are a Princess of the Night Court."

"And I am allowed to make my own decisions regarding my life and future," you looked to Cassian and frowned, your eyes dipped with an emotion he'd never seen in you, "And, right now, my life is not here."

That was how you found yourself within Helion's court, doused in white and gold, with tanned skin from the bright never-ending sun, with your toes dipped in sand and the ocean breeze drifting through your hair.

It had been a year since you had left Velaris, and gods, you missed the City of Starlight so much. The Day Court was wonderful, beautiful in its own incredible way, but it wasn't Velaris, your home.

Helion had found you walking along the sandy shores when you should have been readying yourself for the ball starting in a few hours. Rhys and the entirety of your former family were visiting to celebrate the announcement of Feyre's pregnancy, stopping in every court bar Autumn and Spring to spread the joy, to signal a new age for Prythian after all of the torment they had been subjected to.

"I would have thought you'd be ready by now," Helion noted, watching your cream coloured dress float in the breeze, you held your shoes between your fingers and gazed outward to the ocean.

You hummed, "Part of me isn't looking forward to it," you admitted.

The time you had spent in the Day Court had made you softer, had given you a new perspective. There was much more to love in life than arguing and feuding, and you had spent a little over two weeks trying to figure out why you and Cassian could never seem to get along.

Helion draped an arm over your shoulder, his golden crown shimmering in the sunlight that was usually focused on you, focused on making your skin glitter and smile, "It's been a year since you left, I'm sure they're all looking forward to seeing you."

"Or telling me how much easier their lives have been without me," you laughed sadly, slumping into his side softly as he turned to lead you back up to the palace.

"You're a changed woman now, Y/N. I think that more than anything they'll just be happy to see you thriving."

Fuck.

You were so late. So late that it would be noted as disrespectful no matter how much longer you took. Helion was right, you should have been readying yourself much earlier rather than trailing your toes in the sand.

Helion had gone to great lengths to secure you the most spectacular dress anyone had ever seen. A rich gold garment that snaked tightly around your breasts and curved perfectly over your thighs and ass, no sleeves attached to it, but he had gifted you a set of matching arm cuffs and one for your thigh which was exposed by a high slit, as well as ear cuffs which gave a subtle nod to the Day Courts abilities to hone their gifts of invention.

You were practically running down the halls whilst putting your heels on and clasping your necklace around your neck, taking a sharp left which you knew would lead you to a more secluded entrance where you hoped you could slip in unnoticed.

Sliding through the small opening in the wall, you ducked your way along the length of the room, popping up and smoothing your dress out before reaching for the nearest passing tray of flutes, downing half of the liquid to make it seem like you had been there for longer than you had.

"Very smooth, Y/N," A familiar voice purred with amusement laced in his voice, you turned to find Azriel stood behind you, he looked surprised as he took you in, acknowledging the tanned hue and glow that had possessed your skin, your violet eyes seemed a shade or two lighter than Rhys'.

"Az," you breathed, placing your flute down on the table beside you and throwing yourself into his open arms, you both laughed, and he inhaled your scent, salted summer oceans and velvety rose petals.

Pulling back, you smiled up at him brightly, showing all of your teeth. It was like Day had thrown up on you, though, Azriel couldn't deny that gold most certainly agreed with you. Another force jolted into your side and you lifted your arm to find Mor bundled into your ribs, squeezing you tightly and refusing to let go to the point you had to physically unwind her from you.

"I've missed you so much," her bottom lip wobbled as tears gathered in her eyes, you reached for her, wiping the stray droplets with your thumb.

"You know I'm only like ten minutes away from you, right?"

"Not the point, Y/N," a deep voice drawled, it made you shiver, and before you could even properly move to find the owner, you were already gathered up in his arms, "Hello, little sister."

"Hi, Rhys," your eyes found Feyre stood a few feet away from you, a hand cradling her swelling bump, you moved to her, looking down at that bump, "Congratulations, I'm so happy for you."

Rhys couldn't deny that you seemed different, that you had changed since the night you had left Velaris after your argument, after the ultimatum he had wrongfully forced on you. Feyre had told him that you would be fine, that you deserved to see what life could be outside of Velaris, that you would one day come home to them a different woman than the one who had left.

They all watched as Feyre guided your hands to her stomach and you felt your nephew wriggling around and kicking, "Hey, stop kicking your mama," you had bent down to whisper, "She's been through enough," and the little thing within her halted, settling into a comfortable position and Feyre sighed with relief.

Straightening your posture, you took your flute and took another sip, feeling overwhelmed by all you had missed, "I'll be back in a minute," you told them, Rhys moved to follow after you but Feyre stopped him, she knew how much it must have been for you, she was always the understanding one.

Your usual haven was empty when you had reached it, a white stone balcony at the end of a secluded hallway that looked out onto the lapping waves colliding with the mountain upon which the Day Court Palace lay.

A single tear flowed down your face and you heaved in a breath, trying to control yourself by clutching onto the stone railing. Your hair whipped around your face, and the fire lanterns flickered in the breeze.

"I know that we aren't friends, but if you need me to punch somebody out, you know I can and will," the voice you used to grimace at called to you from a metre or so away.

Spinning on your heels, you saw Cassian before you, illuminated by the moonlight so that you could see his unbound hair and muscular chest that peeked out from his undone shirt, "Thanks, but I'm good," you sniffled softly, grabbing your flute and finishing off the sparkling liquid inside of it before placing it back onto the stone ledge.

Cassian frowned at you, his eyes roamed over your face and figure, smiling in approval at your bright eyes and tan skin, and the masterfully tailored dress and accessories you adorned. There was something soft about you.

"It's good to see you, Cassian. You look happy," the admission tugged sadly at that ball of bliss inside of you, the ball that had been enriched and glowed like starlight.

He approached you, stepping out into the night and understanding why you had blindly led yourself there, he had followed you, noticing how you weren't paying much attention to where you were going and simply allowing your feet to carry you there.

"I could be better," he expressed, taking another step closer to you and finding nothing untoward in your expression, no anger, no distaste, nothing but warmth, "It's weird seeing you not being mad with me."

A gentle laugh pushed through you, it crinkled at the corner of your eyes, "If it means anything, I don't think I was ever really mad at you."

"Yeah?" Cassian coaxed, wanting more of an answer from you.

The lanterns scattered light over the side of your body, the small speck of glitter in your jasmine body oil shimmering softly, "I think I was jealous of you if anything," you had turned away from him and propped your elbows up on the stone platform, staring up at the stars longingly, "You're a true Illyrian and I'm not, not since I lost them," your shoulders rolled, and Cassian saw the faint crescent moon scars ripple at the movement, "I think I saw you as reckless, you were making so many stupid moves that could end up with you being hurt or losing your own wings," you flinched at the thought, "I'm sorry."

"I get it," he told you, mirroring your stance and looking upward at the sky which held nothing on Velaris, "I think I'd be the same if I were in your shoes."

Cassian on some level had always known that you harboured some resentment toward them, for their privilege of not having to worry about having their wings clipped. It had broken them all when it had happened to you, that was the moment you'd turned cold toward him, causing more arguments than anything else.

"This court has changed me, I'm not that person anymore. I hope you know that."

Cassian grabbed your wrist as you moved to walk away, pulling you flush to his chest and tensing as his rough fingers ghosted over your cheek, "I never thought you were that person. I tried to fix it, you know, fix whatever I had done wrong. I was the one who made sure you always had enough strawberries in the house and made Feyre swear to take credit for it. I was the one who made sure your bathroom cabinet was always stocked full of bath oils and healing creams, not Mor. That gift three solstices ago you loved so much, the blanket made from the dresses of Selene and your mother, that was me too, not Az."

"But why? We hate each other?"

"I never hated you, the truth couldn't be more opposite," you could feel his heart beating through the silk of his shirt, through the satin on your dress, he grazed his fingers around the cuffs on your ears, "I love you actually, a lot, and I stupidly thought that if all the words I could get from you were teasing jabs then it would be enough, just to hear your voice."

"You love me?"

Cassian grinned, lowering himself and stopping only millimetres away from your lips, sparks of fire sparking between them, "Always have, Princess," when you didn't move away, he closed that gap between you and allowed the world to explode into a kaleidoscope of colour around your forms, you fisted into his shirts, pulling him closer, and his hands found the small of your back, leaning into you.

Panting, you pulled away, opening your eyes to find his hazel spheres pressing into you, his nose touching your own. You laughed, a laugh that send shivers of joy down his spine, "I can't believe we were in love all this time. I swore I would never become this trope."

Cassian chuckled, a rich a deep thing that made you yearn for him, he kissed you again, with more hunger than you had ever felt, "Who doesn't love a good cliché, my formiddable mate?"

Authors Note

I'm happy now x

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dmwrites · 8 months

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“Pearllllll, I’m bored.”

Gem all but draped herself over a nearby chair in Pearl’s living room, dislodging Olive the cat as she did so.

Pearl looked up at her from her notebook. “So I see. Tragic.” She looked back down at the pahe in front of her, underlined something.

“Pearrrrllll! I’m so bored!”

“You could go play a few rounds of decked out.” Pearl suggested, flipping a page.

“I already used all my shards for the week. And two of yours.” Gem complained, face-down in the seat, legs flailing out over the arm of the chair.

“You what?” Pearl looked up at her friend again, eyes wide.

“Nothing!” Gem coughed. “I just wanna annoy someone, cause some havoc.”

“Well you’re already succeeding at that.” Pearl muttered, putting her notebook to the side and looking at the mess of limbs that was Gem.

“Ugh. Impulse isn’t even around for me to bother, he’s too busy ‘hunting ghosts’ with Skizz and Scar and Grian. Why didn’t they invite me? I wish I could, like, haunt them or something. Possess one of their bodies and scare them.”

“Possession is easy.” Pearl said offhandedly.

“What?”

“Pearlescentmoon! Do you know how to possess people?” Gem gasped, scrambling to a normal sitting position.

“Maybe…” Pearl giggled. “Who do you wanna possess?”

“Oh my god, Scar would be so funny to possess!” Gem said.

“I think we could manage that…” Pearl grinned, holding up a vial with a few bits of dark brown hair inside.

“How did you- actually, I don’t wanna know, I don’t want to have to go to court as a witness one day.” Gem said. “So, okay, how do we do this, then?”

Pearl pulled out a small, stained book from her bookshelf. “Leave it to me. Come back tonight.”

——

Gem and Pearl were sitting on Pearl’s floor in the dark, surrounded by candles. Gem was spooked already.

Pearl checked the time. “Alright, they should be there by now. You ready, Gem?”

“You still haven’t told me what we’re gonna do to put me inside of Scar.” Gem said.

“Simple. Drink this.” Pearl held out a bottle with a dull-looking potion sloshing around inside.

“What is this?” Gem took it and swirled it, frowning.

“Well, if you asked Scar when he downed the bottle I gave him earlier, it’s an energy drink. But it’s actually an awkward potion with a lock of your hair in it.”

“What? Ew!” Gem exclaimed.

“And you have the other, the one with Scar’s hair in it. If you want to possess Scar, that’s how you do it.” Pearl pointed at the bottle. “I’ll guard your body, as I’m sure Scar will be quite frightened to be so short.”

“Wait, he’s taking over my body? I don’t want him in me!”

Pearl snorted. “Ignoring that, what do you think happens to the other soul? It just hangs out? No, silly, it’s got to have a place to go. Scar’ll be fine, trust me. So, are we doing this or not?”

Gem took a deep breath. “This is insane. I should have just gone and killed Etho again. Whatever. Cheers, you weirdo.” She raised the bottle towards Pearl, and drank the entire potion down. For a moment, she and Pearl stared at each other. Then, darkness.

——

“Scar? You okay buddy?” Gem felt a cool hand on her face, gently slapping her awake.

Gem opened her eyes to find a dark haired man standing entirely too close to her face. His own face split into a grin.

“Scar’s alive, guys!”

“I knew he’d faint out of fear.” Grian’s voice came from a corner, not entirely hiding mild distain.

“Come on, man, let’s get you up.” Another voice, Impulse’s voice, came warmly from her other side, and Gem felt herself being picked up. She was set into a chair, and looked up at Impulse, Grian, and Skizzleman.

“Hi guys!” Gem said in her cheeriest voice.

Skizz screamed. Grian screamed louder and higher, clutching to Impulse’s arm. Impulse jumped backwards, falling on Grian, and they both hit the floor. Gem found the wheels of her chair and began moving around.

“Gem?” Impulse finally managed to stutter out, with Skizz and Grian hiding behind him. “Where’s Scar? And how are you… him?”

“Scar’s safe, don’t worry. Let’s go hunt some ghosts, boys!” Gem chirped, leading the way into the haunted house.

——

“Wha- Grian? Impulse? Rizzleman? Did I die? Hello?” Scar sat up, looking around the candle-strewn room in confusion. There was a movement in front of him, and a shadowy figure moved into the candlelight.

“Hello Scar. This is your own personal hell, where you have to pay for the sins of your shulker monsters.” Pearl said in a creepy voice.

“Nooooo!” Scar screamed. “I always knew it would end like this!”

#team gigs #geminitay #pearlescentmoon #long post #based on the sillies of today kinda not really

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 2 months

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"Luxury"- a Loki/Reader Drabble

You wake up next to Loki with not a care in the world.

Genre: Fluff/Lust Pairing: Loki x F!Reader Content Warning: brief mentions of fingering and sex at the end Word Count: 1.3k (I know, not really a drabble but for me it is)

The light sound of delicate pebbles hitting the windowpane roused you from the perfect dream. At first, it was as if the gentle rain sounds were part of the scenario in your head. Then, you blinked back into the waking realm and understood that the weather outside your window had shifted to a steady shower, raindrops heavy and round as they fell onto every surface with a tiny ‘plop.’

Dark and gray, yet calming and gentle on your adjusting pupils, the room still betrayed the morning. Light from the open-curtained window illuminated the walls. The room, bigger than most, was still full to the brim with photographs, art on the walls, as well as your robes and clothes from the night before. Your garments were splayed on the floor after you’d ripped them off in a rush to climb into bed together and make love for hours, Loki’s stamina still the strongest in Asgard (according to him, of course).

You were aware of your immediate surroundings: plush, luxurious silk bed sheets in shades of green, warm from yours and Loki's shared body heat. It felt like a cloud against your skin. Every fold of the fabric was tucked around you in the optimal place, cocooning you, protecting you from anything that could offend you while you slept.

When you expressed your deepest wish to quit your horrendous day job and focus on the things that made you happy (writing, particularly), Loki helped you work up the courage to tell them all off. Once you found yourself in his sights, he made it his business to see that you wanted for nothing. You had servants attending to your every wish with the pull of a rope. You only ate the best foods, both healthy and delectable. Even the barest vegetable dish was like sampling an appetizer at a five-star establishment back home.

Your days were spent indulging in the work that you loved while Loki held court with his brother the King and couldn’t be with you. Loki’s first gift to you after sweeping you away was a writing desk. Well, it was less of a desk and more of a ‘center.’ A whole corner of the parlor attached to the bedroom was set up with screens, keyboards, notebooks and sketch pads, a corkboard for memos and things to remember, dim desk lights, a pull-out tray for food and drink that kept it away from your equipment, and a plush leather chair. Books lined the space. He vowed that the moment you finished a transcript that was to your satisfaction, it would be in every library and bookshop in Asgard, read by anyone with literary taste.

You don’t know what you did to earn his love and his lavish gifts, but did it matter? Dare a mortal question paradise in the palm of her hand?

Slowly, you walked to the window, opening it despite the weather. You had always secretly loved the rain, but you typically kept that to yourself for fear of the strange looks people gave you for confessing such a quirk. Yet, when you felt the gentle rush of warm wind caress your face like Loki’s sweetest kisses, you felt invigorated.

Petrichor flooded your nose, the earthy smell radiating up from where the water was gathering in the palace gardens below your terrace. Watching the rain douse Asgard in a coating of precipitation, you felt you could fly out the window into it, spiraling about the towers, buttresses, turrets, and rooftops, thanking the Fates for your lot in joyous aerial acrobatics.

However, there were some things even Loki couldn’t bless you with, and your silly little mortal legs stayed on the floor. Your heart had to do the thanking for you, and it always sang in a rousing chorus whenever Loki held your hand.

Instead of flying out into the morning storm, you decided to take a moment and freshen up before Loki stirred, inevitably wanting to run his wandering hands over you.

Your bathroom was larger than the entirety of your last apartment in the mortal world, and the bathtub was more akin to a pool, like the communal baths of the Roman era. Alas, the bathing pool belonged to no one but you and Loki. Once you’d mentioned that the sound and feeling of running water always soothed your nerves and brought you to a peaceful state, he arranged for an artificial waterfall to be built over the pumps, so it could fill the pool while you waited, and continue to fall while the water didn’t overflow. It was your favorite spot in the world.

However, not wanting to waste the water on yourself (you naturally bathed with your consort), you stepped into the shower instead, covering your body in thick, rich soap bubbles. You couldn’t help but begin humming aloud as you stood in the marble stall, blissfully shallow in thought.

Back home, everyone ran too quickly, thought too deeply, and always ended their lives in regret. It felt almost unnatural to have the luxury to be brainless, to just be in your body and soak in the moment. You could daydream instead, if you wanted. Oftentimes you filled the lonely hours while Loki held court in these fantasies, some of which you wrote down, others you kept behind your secret smile. Only Loki would ever know the most daring of your dreams.

Taking your time, you got into a robe and decided to ring for a tea tray. You would read by the window and dry off--

--Loki stirred every so slightly as you passed by the bed. He hadn’t awakened, but you couldn’t help but notice him the minute he moved. You turned to the canopy bed you shared with your lover, who was still oblivious to the world. The dawn nor rainstorm woke the god. He was a notoriously heavy sleeper, after all.

The Asgardian Adonis was sprawled amongst the pillows as if deliberately showing off his sculpted muscles in his slumber. Raven black waves fanned out across the silk pillows, their light piney scent kissing your nose from several paces away. The covers were tussled about his hip, obscuring the little piling of hair that trailed from his navel downward. Two gleaming pectorals steadily rose and fell with each breath, taking yours away.

You lost your interest in reading or tea immediately.

Choosing to leave the window open, letting the warm breeze fly in through the gossamer curtains, you let your robe slip to the floor. You rolled back onto your side of the bed, still naked and wet all over.

Loki finally awoke, his eyes fluttering open just as you settled in on your side facing him. He smiled softly, the heavy fog of drowsiness still hanging over his face.

One of the funniest quirks about him that surprised you at first, was that Loki’s favorite time of the day to have sex was just after waking in the morning. Sure, he was ready for you any time you needed him, but something about the stillness of the dawn motivated him, stirred his longing. You loved it.

Without speaking, he drew a hand over the curve of your hip, over your belly, and finally down between your legs. He chuckled at what he felt there--it gave him pleasure to know how easily he turned you on. Hel, he didn’t need to be awake!

“Mmmm, did you just take a bath, or are you happy to see me?” he whispered, his voice full of mischief and lust.

You giggled as you began to feel your thighs (and the lips in between) pulsing with aching need. Loki loved teasing you in the mornings.

It was a small price to pay for being the richest person in all the Realms.

No lie, mentally I’m in absolute hell right now. I wrote this as a brief sensory meditation to try and bring myself to a functional place. Literally, this is just a tableau of what I want right now. No plot to speak of, but if anyone else is being tossed through the anxiety shredder the way I am, hopefully this brings you a moment of repose.

@lokisgoodgirl @holdmytesseract @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @muddyorbsblr @smolvenger @gruftiela @glitchquake @joyful-enchantress @gigglingtiggerv2 @loopsisloops @maple-seed

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki fluff #loki/reader

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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 8 months

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God made girls lethal, when he made monsters of men.

Jonathan Crane x psycho!reader PART TWO

PART ONE

warnings - blood, gore, attempted sexual assault, death.

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

*************************

You’re sessions with Jonathan began to dwindle. No matter how much you screamed, bit, scratched and attacked the other shrinks, demanding to see Jonathan, no one would let you. Always claiming that he had other patients he deemed more severe.

“BULLSHIT!” You screamed. If he wanted dangerous, boy, was he gonna get dangerous.

That was how Jonathan Crane sauntered down the hall and into your cell where he saw you, straight jacket on, strapped down to a wooden chair, held by three guards. Your smile dribbled blood out of your red mouth.

“There are easier ways to get my attention than biting off a guy’s ear.” He sounded almost bored and this made you whimper.

“Well they clearly weren’t working as I asked for you a million times and you NEVER CAME!” Your voice rose into a shrill scream for the last words. But he didn’t even flinch. Instead he kneeled down in front of your shaking form and stroked your soft cheek.

“Now, now darling. There, there. I haven’t been a very good psychiatrist have I?”

“No.” You softly whimpered out.

“No. I’ve been neglecting you haven’t I?" He cooed. Your body softened at his caring words. You meekly nodded.

The guards around you were confused but one sharp glare from Jonathan shut them up and they daren’t look at your intimate moment any longer.

From then on, Jonathan allowed the two of you to have weekly meetings. But they weren’t designed to analyse you, but rather to court you.

He would come and sit down with you and you would talk for hours. About movies, books, games etc.

Some days he would bring you little treats. Secret chocolates, a teddy bear. One day he even brought a hairbrush and he sat behind you and the whole session consisted of him lightly brushing out the tangled locks of your unkept mane. No words were said. But it was ecstacy.

Your favourite gift was when he presented you with a white rose.

“What are those red splotches?” You enquired looking at the streaks which littered the pure base.

“You see I cut myself on the thorn and some dropped on the rose. I was going to get you a new one but I couldn’t help but be so intrigued by it. It really adds something, don’t you think?”

In lieu of a reply you merely reached forward and grabbed his hand where you could see the healing scar. Without breaking his gaze you leant forward and took the whole finger into your mouth. Jonathan struggled to hold back a moan as you salivated at the still iron taste.

In his time with you, Jonathan had noted the keen interest some of the male guards had in you. He sometimes laughed it off believing their stupidity knew no bounds if they were willing to take you on. But he couldn’t help but worry for you.

“God I wouldn’t mind taking a bit of that ass.”

“Are you serious dude? That bitch is crazy. Proper stone cold psychopath.”

“Don’t worry, she’s being sedated well enough, or at least she will be soon. She won’t give us any problems.”

Jonathan overheard the guards from the outside of the break room door.

Since meeting you he had become enraptured. Enchanted by your very being. He viewed you as the most sacred relic he could ever dare to possess. He knew your strength was unimaginable. But you were his. And no one messed with his Queen.

One day you were being transported from your session with Jonathan, who had now deemed it fit to have the sessions in his office rather than your cell. The two guards, who flanked your sides, spoke over you in silent code. Once they had deemed the corridor completely empty. They grabbed your sides, still held in the straight jacket, and began to drag you towards an abandoned closet. Taking your pants and underwear off on the way. Their intentions clearly immoral.

It took you by such surprise that you barely had time to react. You were not used to being manhandled but the shock of the moment meant you couldn’t clear your head enough to launch a good enough attack.

Before the three of you were over the doors precipice, a loud voice announced their exit from their office.

Jonathan called out to ask the two men a question, to which they responded after manoeuvring you out of a compromising position. He shot you a single glance before explaining how he would prefer to walk you back to your cell as well, as, in his words,

“I don’t want her to give you any problems.” with a knowing glint in his eye.

That night the two same guards were summoned to your cell.

They stood to the side of where you sat slumped in your chair. The previous encounter had scarred you and weakened your own sense of self. They were just men, you had killed them before. Why was it so hard now. What was this weak feeling and why did it make you want to scream.

However, your self-sabotaging thoughts were halted the minute Jonathan’s lean frame entered. His soft smile landed on your frame which appeared to have shrunk in the presence of the two guards. This lit a fire deep within his heart.

He brought his briefcase up to the table and popped it open. He pulled out a macabre clown mask, decorated with black and red. He walked forward, whistling as he went, and placed it on your face. You were unable to resist, but deep down you didn’t want to. You trusted Jonathan.

He returned to his briefcase, sat down, took off his glasses, and looked deep into your eyes.

“Would you like to see my mask.” He condescendingly teased.

He pulled out a ratty burlap sack which you noted had stitching which resembled a face. He placed it on his head and immediately pressed a hidden button which released a sulphuric green gas into the air. It was then you noted the breathing device attached to your own mask.

Jonathan bared his knuckles on the table and used it to raise himself into a godlike stance.

You were startled by the bloodcurdling screams which erupted from the two men behind you. You whipped around to see them collapse to the floor, writhing about in pain. Both looking and pointing up at Jonathan in pure god-fearing terror.

Suddenly, they both seized. Their last moments of fear etched onto their faces like stone. Their hearts had gone.

You tilted your head to look down, interestedly, at the two corpses. You turned back around when you felt a presence at your back.

Jonathan stood over you, masked and all. His hand outreached.

“Scarecrow will never hurt you, my love.”

You carefully lifted up your own mask to reveal a teeth-chattering grin plastered over your sadistic expression.

*************************

PART THREE

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog @bloodcanbehot @lazybot @raineeace @thearieunhinged @multifans-things @queenofterrasen418 @bey0ndne0 @justanotherkpopstanlol @iamliterallyspidergwen @frozenhuntress67 @alice2612 @slut4thebroken @akiratoro420 @astheni-a

#cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #jonathan crane x psycho!reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x fem!reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane imagine #jonathan crane #dc scarecrow #arkham scarecrow #batman nolanverse #batman begins

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prolife-is-prolie · 8 months

Text

I celebrated Roe V Wade being overturned. I am now being investigated for having a miscarriage.

"The happiest moment in my life was when I said "I do" to my husband seven years ago. My second happiest moment was at the Supreme Court building on June 24, 2022. Seeing an endless sea of happy, cheerful faces, the champagne bottles being popped open, watching as bubbles floated on by, the feeling was electric! Babies were going to be saved!

And then a year later, on June 24, 2023, the third happiest moment in my life occurred. The two faint lines revealed themselves on the pregnancy test. I was pregnant! Finally! After years of hoping, praying, and multiple IVF treatments, I was finally pregnant! Life was perfect. My husband took me out to dinner and he never left my side the whole night. He came home from work one day with a giant book of baby names. It didn't take us long to decide: Ophelia if it was a girl, and Benson if it was a boy.

I thanked the Lord for gifting me with a happy marriage and a baby that I prayed so much for. But the Lord had other plans. August 23, 2023, my world came crashing down. I woke from a deep sleep and was overcome with painful cramps. I looked under the blanket and was horrified by what I saw: A huge puddle of red. I ran to the bathroom and sat on the toilet and I cried. I was having a miscarriage.

My husband woke up and noticed the puddle of blood. I've never seen him look so scared in my life. He hugged me while I sat and bled on the toilet. We then stripped down and got in the shower, where he held me, not caring about the blood running down my legs. I scheduled an emergency doctor's appointment for later in the day. The doctor confirmed our worst fear, I had a complete miscarriage. There wasn't anything more that could be done.

I sat on the table in that cold room while I waited for the doctor to come back with my paperwork. I was completely numb. I had no more tears left to cry. My husband stood by me and held my hand while we waited. And then we heard the knock on the door. We were expecting the doctor to enter. Instead, we were met with a couple of police officers.

My husband and I were escorted to the police station. It was there that we were informed that my miscarriage was deemed suspicious. The officers told us that due to the fact that we lived in a pro-life state, this was the new protocol. My husband and I were each taken to separate interview rooms, where we were questioned for six hours. I was asked a variety of questions:

What did I do the night before miscarrying?

Did I have a fall that could have caused the miscarriage?

Did I intentionally cause trauma to my abdomen to induce a miscarriage?

Did I take abortion pills?

Could my husband have slipped abortion pills into my drink?

At first, I tried to be understanding, but that quickly turned to anger. They were accusing my husband and me of purposefully killing our baby. I told the interviewer over and over that we wanted our baby and that we would do nothing to cause harm to our baby. After six hours, the questions let up. The interviewer left the room and I instantly broke down in tears again.

I cried for the baby I lost. I cried because my husband and I were being accused of killing our baby. I cried because I felt like nobody was listening to me. And I cried because this is what pro-choicers said would happen when Roe was overturned. Everything that they said would happen was happening.

Miscarriages were being investigated as murders. Children were being forced to give birth to their rapists' babies. Babies were being born and discarded in trash cans and dumpsters. And we have not done a damn thing about any of this. My husband and I were released, but not before being told that we weren't allowed to leave town due to the fact that we were being investigated.

I read articles about the women in Texas suing the state because of the anti-abortion laws. I read about the 13-year-old girl who gave birth to a baby she did not want. I read about the 11-year-old who had to flee her home state to get an abortion, only for the doctor who performed the abortion to get fined. I felt sick to my stomach reading these stories. And once again, my sorrow was replaced with anger.

I thought back to what I thought was one of the happiest moments of my life, Roe V Wade being overturned. In my mind, the happy smiles that I saw were suddenly replaced with evil snarls. The champagne that was popped was replaced with acid. The bubbles became heavy glass and they fell to the ground. My god, what have we done?

I forwarded the articles to my husband and I saw all color leave his face. The night after our interrogations, we ate dinner in silence. After knowing this man for 17 years and being married to him for seven of those years, he didn't need to talk for me to know what he was thinking. And I agreed with him:

Overturning Roe V Wade was a huge mistake."

-Constance, 37.

#pro life #pro chocie #roe v wade #roe vs. wade #abortion #anti abortion #my body my choice #fyp #fypシ

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superprincesspea · 1 month

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Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 12 - Storm Chaser

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

The day truly began with the arrival of a scroll.

You were sitting to breakfast, and your sisters hurried to receive it, while you lingered in the background, spreading damson jam onto a slice of toasted bread.

You expected the scroll to be another invitation from Helaena, yet as Maris brought it to the table, you could see that the wax seal was black, embossed with the same Targaryen sigel as your note from Aemond.

In fact, the only difference between the scroll you’d received last night, and the one delivered this morning, was the name written across the front.

Maris Baratheon.

You get an instant bad feeling, which is only made worse by the look on her face as she unfurls the scroll, and a handkerchief flutters to the ground.

"Your favour!” Cassandra exclaims, bending quickly to retrieve it, and she’s right. It is Maris’ favour.

Bright golden marigolds are still delicately stitched into the shape of a heart, but the fabric is pristine, as though it’s been carefully laundered to remove all trace of human touch.

You can’t help but think of your own favour, dusty and ruined, but held so fiercely in Aemond’s hand.

“What does it say?” Cassandra asks, leaning in to look, but Maris shifts away so she can read in silence, her eyes quickly scanning the words, her brow creasing with every passing moment.

This can’t be good, you think, and your toast slips onto your plate, as you try to imagine what had been going through Aemond’s mind when he’d put pen to parchment this morning.

Asking for Maris’ favour had been bad enough, returning it was a thousand times worse.

Did he really know nothing when it came to women?

After her second read through of the scroll, Maris scrunches it lightly in her hand before laughing sharply and smoothing it back out to read a quote.

“Prince Aemond wants to ‘ thank’ me for my favour, and for being a ‘ dear friend to Helaena. ’ But does not wish for me to think he had ‘ any intentions’ beyond ‘honouring a friendship’ with his sister . ”

There is a long pause. An uncomfortable pause.

All those books and he really did know nothing .

“I’m so sorry, sister,” Cassandra console’s gently, reaching to offer a compassionate hand for Maris’ shoulder. But Maris explodes before Cassandra can touch her, thrusting the parchment into your face.

“This is all your fault!”

“My... fault ?” you stutter, feeling that it is, in fact, all your fault though not for the reasons she believes. You’d told him not to toy with her, but you hadn’t told him to do this .

“You are always so rude to him! To everyone! Is it any wonder nobody likes you?” she pauses, tears streaking her cheeks and, perhaps she’s wondering if she’s gone too far, yet she doesn’t stop.

“You didn’t even bother to come to the hall last night. Did you even bother to give him the remedy? Or was that too much to ask when all you’ve done all summer is hide in your room?”

“I gave it to him,” you say, your voice no more than a whisper as you try to ignore the sting of her words.

“And then what?” she demands.

You look at Cassandra, hoping for a port in the storm, but she’s waiting for your answer with as much interest as Maris.

So, you shrug and pick up your knife to add even more jam to your toast, though you can’t imagine eating it now. What you really need is time to think, to decide what to say, because what happened after you gave him the remedy will really make her mad.

Still, it is the truth, so you say it as plainly as you can without going into too much detail, or mentioning the part where Aemond had threatened every man in court who had any interest in pursuing your hand.

“I gave his grace the remedy... and the queen asked if I might stay a while to keep him company. So we had a glass of wine and played a game of Cyvasse.”

“You. Played. Cyvasse? And you did not think to tell me this until now? ” she waves the parchment around in the air as though it is a weapon, and the look of betrayal is clear on her face. But you’re growing tired of protecting her feelings from the truth.

Maris was not the only person in this family.

What of your feelings?

What of your torment these past few weeks?

You straighten yourself in the chair, meeting her temper with more steel in your voice, “I was sleeping when you returned last night, and what difference would it make? It was just a game, it had nothing to do with you and, to be perfectly honest, I think you would hate every moment of Aemond’s company if you spent any amount of time actually speaking to him.”

“We have spoken,” she says defensively, but polite conversation was not real conversation.

You stand, scoffing, “then you must know he is insanely arrogant, ridiculously competitive, completely insensitive and possesses not an ounce of chivalry. He spends almost all his free time reading, which you hate, playing Cyvasse, which you also hate, and regarding everyone at court as though they are complete idiots.”

She tilts her head, her eyes narrowed as though she has come to some fresh conclusion, “are you certain you’re not describing yourself, sister ?”

“I am nothing like him!”

“Maybe you just want him for yourself then? Is that it? Was that your plan all along?”

You gasp, more than a little dumbfounded by the accusation, “are you even listening to me?”

“Yes, and you seem to know an awful lot about a man you claim you do not like.”

Clenching your hands into tight balls, you’re annoyed that Maris is right.

You do know him; far more than you would want to know a man you despise as much as you despise Aemond Targaryen. But, more than anything, you’re annoyed that anyone could think, even for one moment, that you would ever desire him!

Yet , it’s your tone which now sounds defensive, "first you say I’m ruining your chances by being rude to him, now you’re saying I’m trying to steal him from you? Which one is it? Why don’t you decide before I tell you how stupid this entire conversation is.”

At that, you abandon your breakfast, your sisters, and your cloak, as you head towards the door and tear it open, leaving it to swing on its hinges in your haste to get away.

Seven Hells! You scream internally as you storm through the halls, the skirts of your dress kicking up with every stride as though they are trying to trip you.

You hardly thought it was possible to hate Aemond any more than you already did, yet you feel as though you could tear him limb from limb as you make your way towards the gardens, seeking refuge in the long willowy stems of the blooms.

But, like everything else in this cursed Red Keep, all you find is disappointment, as the first careful drops of rain hit the ground while dark clouds gather for as far as the eye can see.

Knowing you should turn back, you press on. Hurrying along the gravel path to where a small stone folly is nestled among the fading summer roses.

It isn’t much, but it's enough to provide temporary shelter as the rain turns into a downpour. The promise of thunderstorms crackling in the humidity.

You’ve never longed for home more than you do right now. Even if Storms End had sometimes felt like a prison with her tall, dark walls; her dusty corridors had never felt quite so desolate as the bustling halls of the Red Keep.

If you were home, there would be no sisters standing guard outside your room, no courtiers to avoid and, more importantly, no dragon prince .

Stretching out your hand, you catch cool drops of rain in your palm, and can’t help but think of the beach. The thrill of the water rushing against your skin, the pull of the tide-

“My Lady?”

Startled, you turn towards the sound.

“Lady Baratheon?” Tyland Lannister says, as though you might be confused about who he was talking to in a garden emptied by the storm. Yet, you’re so surprised he’s speaking to you, you look around just the same.

“What are you doing out here?” he exclaims, his hair soaked with water as he strips his cloak from his shoulders before throwing it over yours without question.

You're too stunned to answer, but he doesn’t wait for you to say anything. He takes your arm, guiding you across the garden to where a little covered terrace offers far better protection from the elements and, beyond the door, you can see the chambers are decorated in the style of House Lannister.

He pulls out an iron chair from under an iron table and you sit, wishing you’d removed his cloak first, as he takes the other seat.

“It has been far too long since I’ve enjoyed your company,” he says, as though the whole thing wasn’t by some cowardly design.

You don't reply. You can’t exactly ask him why he’s chosen this precise moment to risk the removal of his manhood at the hands of Aemond Targaryen- but you do wonder it.

What has changed since you last spoke?

He'd seemed so afraid then and appears so relaxed now.

He even smiles when you meet his eye, his gaze scraping approvingly across your cloaked form as though he’s very satisfied about the current situation indeed.

Then he gestures for the servant, and she pours hot tea into delicate little cups while a long silence begins to stretch across the table, its length marked with every drop of rain which taps on the roof until he decides to speak.

“How long until you return home, Lady Baratheon?”

“Three days.”

“Only three?” he shifts in his chair, his hand clenched while his thumb brushes thoughtfully across his finger, “I hear the Stormlands can be quite unforgiveable come winter.”

You pick up your cup, “only to those who cannot withstand them, my lord.”

“Casterly Rock is always pleasant no matter the time of year. You would like it, I think.”

"My sister Cassandra would like it more. She loathes to be cold, but I could not find any pleasure in the summer if there was no winter to keep her in balance.”

“And how did you enjoy the tourney?” he asks then, flitting the subject to one he hopes you can agree on, and you suddenly remember all the reasons you were trying to avoid his company before Aemond intervened.

The rigid conversations, the fawning look in his eye, and the unspoken expectation of flattery and obedience.

“I detest tourneys,” you admit, and Tyland’s gaze widens, his teacup hovering just below his lips.

“I suppose they can be quite violent for ladies with such tender hearts.”

His words make you feel a little nauseated as you settle your cup back onto the table. “It is not my tender heart which finds them disagreeable, my lord, it is my objection to idiocy in the name of glory.”

Tyland frowns, confused by your honesty and seeming unsure on how to react.

He was supposed to ask if you liked tourneys, and you were supposed to smile and say yes, before agreeing with every other remark he decided to make. But you were in no mood to fake interest for the sake of propriety or to fake anything at all.

“My lady seems quite unsettled by the storm,” he decides with a small uncomfortable laugh, “perhaps you will feel more comfortable inside, where it is much warmer?”

You glance back into the room, where it is all red upholstery and golden lions, and get the distinct feeling that this could be your life, if you wanted it.

All you had to do was play the part you’d been born to play, and he would ask for your hand, and you would birth a little Lannister baby come spring.

It would be so easy. The Lannister’s were wealthy and powerful, so you could find endless comfort and safety in this golden cloak. But were you really prepared to settle for comfort because you were too afraid of a little storm?

Tyland was old enough to be your father, and boring enough to be completely harmless, but what was marriage without passion? Only duty, and all at once, you find you're not prepared to give your life away so readily in the name of that.

So, knowing it’s likely a terrible mistake to spurn the possibility of such an enviable match, you do it anyway.

“Please,” you stand, fiddling with the clasp of his cloak before it slips from your shoulders into a pile on the chair, “do not aim to speak with me again.”

Tyland stands too, his face even more perplexed than before, as you head back into the rain like a mad woman instead of a future Lady Lannister, and you feel not a thimbleful of regret.

Nor are you content. The downpour seems relentless, your dress growing heavier and heavier with every step you take as you trudge along the winding paths.

Yet even with the rain, you do not wish to face your sisters, and feel as though there is really no place to go except one .

The Crown Library.

~~~

Thank you for reading! This chapter was getting so long I had to split it into more manageable chucks but that means next chapter is all Aemond :D

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #romance #female reader #enemies to lovers #aemond targaryen x oc #prince aemond #slow burn

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meraxesmoon · 6 months

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Her Father's Daughter

Father! Aemond/Daughter! Reader

note: idk he would be the biggest girl dad ever

warnings: yandere content, platonic relationships, bullying, usual targaryen weirdness, readers mother is rhae's daughter, so, she's a strong, toxic relationship between aemond and his wife, au where he survives the war, older! jaehaera is here bc I love her sm,

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

From the moment his daughter had left her mother's womb, Aemond had adored her.

There was no love between Aemond Targaryen and Alyssa Velaryon. After the war was won, they were married to keep the peace and keep Alyssa and her two living brothers alive. However, their marriage was cordial, and they didn't exactly hate each other. Their daughter was the product of the consummation, and while they didn't love each other, they loved their sweet girl unconditionally.

Despite the amazing relationship (Name) has with her mother, she ends up being extremely close with her father, the Prince Regent. Aemond dotes on her as if she held the entire world in her hands. His little girl was as Targaryen as they came, with her white hair and dark amethyst eyes. She enjoyed learning the history of her family and enjoyed nothing more than to go flying on her dragon (one that had survived the storming of the dragon pit).

However, little (Name) Targaryen was too much like her father sometimes. She was introverted and closed off when it came to the other children of court. She was not especially well liked by the other children, though this was only known to the princesses older cousin, grandmother, and mother.

Alyssa Velaryon, however, did not appreciate the saddened expression her daughter wore whenever she came back from the gardens. Children could be so cruel. She knew this all too well, and she is reminded of how Aemond was treated by her brothers when they were children. It is Alyssa's belief that Aemond deserves a painful life. However, her precious daughter deserved nothing but happiness. She decides to bring the entire situation to her husband's attention.

"Husband."

"Hm..?"

This is usually how their conversations go, with Alyssa speaking and Aemond barely acknowledging her. However, this would be different, considering it was about their daughter.

"It is about (Name), she has been having some difficulty with the other children at court, and I am quite worried," Alyssa says, her eyes burning into Aemond as he finally looks up from his book. He narrows his one good eye at her. That's her cue to continue. "The other children pick on her, they call (Name) 'the Kinslayers daughter'... it upsets her greatly, Husband."

At this, Aemond slams the tome shut, shooting up from his chair, the mahogany scraping against the stone floor with a viciousness that made Alyssa's ears sting. She clutches her arms as she stares at the man in front of her. She held no love for Aemond, but she couldn't help but adore how he loved their daughter.

"I will not stand for our daughter to be bullied as you were when we were children... Aemond."

He let's out one more 'hm' before leaving the room to search for his daughter.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

When he finds her, (Name) is happily reading in the library with her older cousin, Jaehaera. The two girls sit comfortably in silence as Jaehaera reads some fairytale and (Name) reads the tome on Aegon's conquest. Jaehaera notices Aemond first, the older girl nodding her head at her uncle as she gets up to leave, her emotionless face almost tender as she pats (Name) on the head, bidding her goodbye.

(Name) looks up from her book, noticing her beloved father standing near her reading spot. She smiles widely, popping out of her comfortable position nestled in her fluffed cushions to bound up to the tall man. She was short, only being eleven years of age, so she wrapped her arms around her father's waist to hug him. He smiles softly, running his finger over her temple, a gesture that he has always made towards his daughter, even when she was a baby.

"Father! I'm not a baby anymore!" She would say, but Aemond never paid her any mind.

She would always be a child to him.

"Ñuha darling riña, eman mirros naejot epagon ao." My darling girl, I have something to ask you.

(Name), much like her father, was fluent in High Valyrian. However, her mind sometimes wandered, and she had a hard time getting the words out, so she often just responded in the common tongue.

"Yes, Papa? What is it?"

Her voice was so sweet and soft, like a small kitten or bird. His gaze immediately softened, and Aemond almost regrets the threats that he sent towards those boys.

"Those boys, from house Lannister and Baratheon, they won't be bothering you anymore, Dōna riña." Aemond says this as softly as his voice would allow. The shocked expression on her face was enough for Aemond to know that he hadn't gone to his brother for no reason.

They had been hurting his daughter, and to Aemond, that was unforgivable.

"Father-" "Come now, let us read together."

Aemond settled his large frame onto the cushions where she often read. This little space in the library was due to his brother. Aegon was far from a good person, but he had done many things to make sure his daughter and niece were happy. Jaehaera and (Name) were quite close despite the young heiress' emotionless disposition.

Family was a sparse thing now, so you had to keep them as close as possible.

(Name) sits next to her father, smiling faintly as he picks up her tome on Aegon's Conquest. Aemond turns to the pages that contain Rhaenys, who was (Name)'s favorite historical figure. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, coddling her as he read.

These were the moments Aemond lived for.

girl dad targaryen men are real, GRRM told me so

I've been in an aemond mood lately

#cw: yandere content #cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere aemond #yandere imagines #yandere content #yandere hotd #yandere headcanons #yandere #kay writes #rhxegal

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perseephoneee · 3 months

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𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

↳ fic masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

There was a sense of melancholy in the air, as there always was around courting season. Loki Laufeyson always looked forward to the season ending so he didn’t have to endure his father’s disappointing stare any longer. (Find a nice girl to settle with. Fulfill your divine purpose)

Currently, Loki is spread on the chaise lounge in the living room. The book in his hands was one on botany. Not because he had any genuine interest in it— he just needed anything to distract himself. It was at this moment his brother entered.

"The season is starting," Thor stated, fixing his sleeves as he boasted a bright smile. "We'll see what society offers." Loki ignores him, continuing to read. Thor walks over and takes the book out of Loki's hand.

"Do you ever listen to me?"

"Only when you're interesting," Loki winks, sitting up with a heavy sigh. He stretched his neck, sitting up like a cat as Thor, with his ever-glowing smile, sat down next to him.

"I have a good feeling," Thor chimed. Loki suffered an eye roll, being subjected to the same thing Thor has participated in yearly. Supposedly, the Queen met with all the girls today to determine the Diamond of the Season. Then, later in the week, the first ball would be held. Time spent where Loki yearned for more substantial conversation and less pleasantries. He could be charming if he wanted to be, but most of the tone was dreadfully dull.

Luckily, you felt the same way.

Waiting to be presented to a woman who had never met you did nothing to quell your nerves. Indeed, it was embarrassing for your ego to watch a woman turn her nose up at your countenance as everyone else watched. How your sister had endured the past two seasons was beyond you.

You had talked your grandmother out of using feathers in your look because even if you didn't care much about finding a husband, you refused to resemble a pigeon in public. Instead, you wore your hair half up and pinned away with a jewel-encrusted pin. Your gown was simple, but your gloves exasperated the sweat on your palms. You envied men and the ability to wear trousers.

When it was your turn to walk through the double doors and make eye contact with the Queen, you resisted the urge to grimace. Already, you could see chatter amongst the ton as you slowly walked up to the dias where Her Majesty sat. Her curious, calculating eyes watched your every movement. One of the women standing on the side, Lady Page (a snooty gossip, as your Grandmother claimed), looked at you with such distaste that you couldn't find the urge to send her a wink. The tiny gasp she let out was worth the lashing you'd experience from your grandmother later.

The Queen didn't look amused, but frankly, she never did. You broke into a curtsy as you reached the end of the walkway, averting your eyes out of politeness.

"What's your name?" The Queen inquired, lips pursed.

"Miss Y/N Chilton, Your Majesty," you responded, keeping your posture straight as your grandmother ordered. The Queen glanced towards Lady Page, a hint of a smile on her lips. She may have a sense of humor. She nodded your dismissal, and you made as quick of an exit as you could.

You (thankfully) were not named Diamond the Season. Your Grandmother contributed your "obnoxious" behavior to that decision, but you couldn't care. You already have to suffer through an entire season; you didn't also want to deal with the pressure that being a Diamond entailed.

The first event arrived sooner than you wanted. Ivy insisted on helping you get ready, citing your “total blindness for fashion” as a desperate call for help. You weren’t blind to fashion; it wasn’t your top priority.

“I wish you’d wear periwinkle more; it’s such a lovely color on you,” Ivy sighed as she messed with your hair. She had dressed you in a short-sleeved periwinkle gown with gossamer pleats and tiny embroidered Lily of the Valleys. It wasn’t too obnoxious, which you appreciated. She was curling your hair to a cascade of locks on top of your head.

“I wear periwinkle,” you sigh, opening and closing cases of rouge on top of the vanity.

“You’re so pretty, you know?” Ivy took a star-crested pin, clipping it into place. “You’ll find a husband in no time.”

“I don’t want a husband.”

“Yes, you do,” your sister sighed, patting your shoulders. She had made you look ethereal so unlike yourself. You had tendrils framing your face, sparkles clipping the rest of your hair away. You looked effortless in a way you didn’t feel. “You just don’t want a typical husband. You want someone who’ll see and appreciate your brain more than anything else.”

You placed a hand on top of your sisters, tears beading in your eyes. She was always so kind and knew you so well. She deserved a husband, not you, but she was flighty and a bit of a klutz in a way men found annoying and not endearing. You wished for her to find a prince and nothing else.

“Will Grandmother be mad if I bring a book to the function?” You whisper, a sly smile on your lips. Ivy lets out a wholehearted laugh, helping you up.

Your Grandmother was already waiting outside, with a tight-lipped look at your “tardiness.” You just rolled your eyes, climbing in after your sister and clasping your hands uneasily on your lap. Even if you didn’t care, social situations still made you nervous.

Lady Danbury was holding the ball, a grand affair everyone discussed. Footman received carriages with top-tier manners, and the inside of the event was decked in silver drapes, twinkling white lights, and an assortment of champagnes. You almost tripped on your skirts down the stairs, receiving your card from a chuckling servant. When your Grandmother wasn’t looking, you filled out the card so no men would ask you to dance.

Ivy was in her element as she floated between families, making conversation. It was too many people all at once. Still, you smiled to yourself, maneuvering out of the room and finding an alcove outside on the terrace. It was too stuffy inside, too many bodies twirling around each other. The outside had enough chill to soothe your warmed skin but not too cold to give you goosebumps. You found a bench and perched yourself on it, hiking up your skirts to cross your legs. You preferred reading outside anyway. It was a reminder of the outside world. It’s easy to get lost in your head, which is precisely what you did.

“Do most ladies hide outdoors with their nose in a book?” A voice asked, stirring you from your thoughts. You looked up to observe a man, arms crossed, an eyebrow cocked in amusement. He was dressed in emerald green, which complemented his eyes.

“Do most gentlemen spy on unassuming women?” You narrowed your eyes, putting your bookmark in your book and closing it.

“Such cheek from a lady of the ton,” he smirked, stepping towards you. “Weren’t you raised with manners?”

“I never claimed to be,” you blinked, all doe eyes as if playing the part of delicate lady and not utterly defiant granddaughter.

“Why aren’t you enjoying the festivities?” He inquired, moving to clasp his hands behind his back.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I asked you first.”

“I don’t like dancing,” you answered sincerely. He just looked at you with amusement in his eyes. He found your defiant nature funny, aggravating you more than it should. You were about to respond with a retort, but you were again interrupted by another baritone voice.

"Brother! I've been searching for you," a man said, emerging from one of the doorways with a charismatic smile. He looked nothing like his brother. While your intruder was all lean limbs, raven black hair, and a sarcastic smirk, this new man was personified by muscle and masculinity. The comparison ended with them being both devilishly handsome. "Are you harassing this fair lady?" he asked, gesturing towards you.

"Yes, he is; he's quite annoying," you smiled, enjoying the exasperated eye roll you earned.

"Loki tends to get that reaction from people," the man chuckled. "I am Thor Odinson, and you are...?"

"Y/N Chilton," you bowed your head politely. Thor took your hand, kissing the back of your knuckles. You knew the Odinsons, one of the most revered families in the ton. And you happened to be verbally sparring with one of them. Your grandmother will kill you if you discover your irreverence.

"Lady Chilton, I see your dance card is already occupied," Thor gestures to the slip of paper attached to your wrist. "Otherwise, I would've invited you for a dance."

"I filled it out myself," you admit bashfully. "Anything to avoid participating."

Thor let out a hearty laugh at that.

"Very clever," Loki tutted, and you sent him a pointed glare that furthered his amusement.

"Would you care to join me for a waltz, Ms Chilton?" Thor asked, extending his hand. You took it gratefully.

"It would be my honor," you bowed, taking your book with you as Thor whisked you inside. You had half a mind to turn around and wave brattily at Loki, but when you looked back, he was already gone.

#marvel #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic #thor odinson #thor #tom hiddleston #chris hemsworth

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lanitalay · 3 months

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One Day : Chapter 3

azriel x reader

a/n: let me know if you'd like to be on a taglist for this series!

Warningsd: fluff, pining

word count: 1.6k

Masterlist

“You're not going to spend the Summer Solstice with us again?” Azriel had just informed Rhysand he was departing for the Dawn Court, where y/n had been training under Thesan for ten years. “You know I always spend it with y/n, Rhys.”

“Didn’t she visit recently?”

“Don’t I spend everyday with you?” Rhys raised an eyebrow at his brother. “You two are adorable, really.”

“Shut up.” Azriel would never admit it to anyone, but he held a small bit of resentment towards Rhys for introducing y/n to Thesan. If he would have known that bringing her to that meeting would have ended up in her moving away he would have never done it- or at least thought twice about it. He loved Rhys and Cassian and Mor and even Amren for the unlikely family that they were. Bound not by blood but by choice. Their lives were so interwoven that meeting y/n was a breath of fresh air. He got to spend most days with her for a year before she left for Dawn. They visit each other frequently enough that the friendship hasn’t faltered in the last decade.

But Azriel missed her. Spending the holiday with her was nonnegotiable.

“I have to deliver some things to her anyways.” Rhysand gives him one of those looks “you don’t need to make up excuses Azriel, you miss the female you love that is perfectly understable. What I do not understand is why you insist on keeping her as your friend-”

“Don’t you ever get tired of listening to yourself talk? And I’m not making up excuses. Her friends always give me letters and care packages to give her since your wards don’t allow mail to go in or out of Velaris.”

“Sorry for keeping the city too safe for you-”

“I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Send y/n my love.”

Once in the Dawn Court Azriel felt infinitely lighter. There was a permanent air of tranquility that the Night Court lacked. He walked a few steps up to the the familiar cottage and knocked three times. “Az!” The pink door swung open and y/n jumped on him, squeezing tight. “I’m so happy you’re here, come in, come in.” Azriel handed her one of the two bags he carried “Bec, Nomi and Fran sent these.” Then he remembered “and Rhys sends his love.”

Y/n smile widens as she grabs the large bag of goodies. He watched her open them. Most were letters containing updates and gossip about their lives. There were a few care packages, Nomi always sent her cookies, Fran sent books and Bec sent a small portrait of her babe. “I can’t believe how big she’s gotten,” y/n turns the frame around so Azriel can see “I saw her this Spring and I swear she was half this size.”

“I can’t believe Bec has a baby.” Y/n gasps and tries to push down a chuckle. “She was the wildest of us, now look at her, mated and a mother.”

Azriel did not know what compelled him to say what came out of his mouth but before he could stop himself he was asking “would you ever want that?”

“What?”

He reasoned there was no real harm in asking a friend about her desires so he clarified “you know, a mate and a baby, that whole thing.”

“Oh,” she thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I think so. But not now. Well- I don’t even have a mate but with work right now I’m doing so much I’d hate to stop. But in the future, yes.” Azriel muffled the warm relief that flooded his chest at her response. “And you?”

He nodded, “same as you, one day, far into the future.” Y/n smiles as she looks through the books Fran sent. “Do you have food?” He walks towards the kitchen he knows she never fully stocks. How she keeps herself alive on crackers and nut butters he will never understand.

“I don’t like what you are insinuating. I went to the market yesterday.” Azriel opens the icebox and sees some meat and fruits. Then he opens the cupboards and sees a sack of potatoes. “We can actually make something-” knocking on the door interrupts him.

“Finally,” he hears from the other room “Az, come here.”

“Are you expecting someone?” Y/n opens the door and a male stands on the other side. His hair is light brown, almost blonde. He’s taller than her, but a head shorter than Azriel. He wears glasses and he smiles as he hands y/n a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. “Az, this is Lenus, my boyfriend” Azriel feels a stab in his gut “Lenus, this is Azriel.”

The boyfriend steps forward and extends his hand to shake Azriel’s. “I’m so glad to finally meet you, y/n has told me many things about you.”

“Oh Az, I hope you don’t mind. But since there is no Summer Solstice party here I thought we might as well celebrate just us three.” Three. He knew he needed to react well, never wanting to do anything to upset you. “Oh of course, I just- I didn’t know you met someone.”

Y/n walked to the kitchen and the two males followed. She opened the bottle of wine and Lenus fetched three glasses. “Thank you honey, we started seeing each other around the time I came back from the Night Court. But we met a few years ago, in one of the libraries.”

“I’m a scribe,” Lenus explained with a smile. “Oh?”

“Yes, I had to research an herb that one of the apothecaries wanted to add to a tonic we use frequently and- well you know me I had to double check the information. So I went to the library and Lenus spent the whole day helping me.” Azriel could throw up from the lovey dovey display happening in front of him. In all their years of friendship he had never seen her actually like someone.

She had dated plenty of people, but nothing ever lasted more than a week or two. More importantly she had never called someone her boyfriend.

Lenus prepared dinner for them. Azriel had to reluctantly compliment him on the food because it was indeed delicious and whenever he visited y/n in the past, the pickings were slim when it came to eating. He never blamed her or complained about it. She was a healer and cooking was not her priority.

He hated that this male seemed to be good for her. Knew that was selfish of him. That deep down he wanted to be in his position. His thumb drawing lazy circles on her hand. “So y/n tells me you two actually met on Summer Solstice?”

“Technically we met the day after, but yes. Eleven years of friendship today” Azriel tips his glass towards her and she returns the gesture. “Happy anniversary Az.”

Lenus looks between them “have you always been just friends?” Azriel lets y/n handle the question. “Well, he’s also been my patient more times than I can count.”

The male relaxes a bit at her explanation. “Dear, I’m sorry but I must be on my way. There is an auction in the Day Court tomorrow for some ancient texts and I was tasked to go. I’ll come find you when I get back.” The group stands up from the table and walks Lenus to the door. “Thank you for cooking” Azriel shakes his hand and leaves the couple to say their goodbyes in private.

“So… what do you think?” As much as he wanted to dislike her boyfriend he couldn’t. “He seems great, y/n.”

“Do you mean it?”

“You know I’d never lie to you. Are you happy?”

“It’s still early days, but yes.” That’s all he could ever want for her. “Then I’m happy for you.”

Y/n hugs him. Her scent has never changed, not since that first night. It’s sweet with a hint of citrus. He breathes it in as he hugs her back. “Wanna dance?”

She laughs “here?” Azriel breaks the hug and makes her spin “Summer Solstice tradition.” He pulls her close and they slow dance to imaginary music. “Are you going to stay in this court forever?”

“No, I’m only waiting on Thesan to find my replacement. I miss the Night Court.”

“It misses you too.” They dance in silence for a few moments before Azriel speaks again. "Will Lenus come with you?"

"We haven't discussed it yet."

“You know, I often wonder what would have happened between us if you had stayed.”

“I used to wonder too.”

“We had a pretty good date, remember? Before the meeting with Rhysand.” She laughs, probably remembering how much of a nervous wreck he was that day. “It was a nice date, yes. But you know this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”

“I know, and I’m so proud of you.”

“I think, had I stayed, we would have made it work.”

“I think so too.”

She breathes, “I think if we got together that first year it would have been a different story, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I was convinced you were in love with Mor and I never allowed myself to see you as more than a friend until that conversation on the boat, but by then we didn’t know it was too late.”

“To be fair, I could have been clearer with my intentions.” She laughs, “that’s true. What about you, is there someone back home?”

Azriel could have lied and said there was someone, maybe a few people he was interested in seeing, but he couldn’t lie to her “I’m a lone wolf these days.”

She pulls away from his chest to look up at his face “are you happy?”

He thinks about it. His existence has been filled with hardships and heartbreak. Scars litter his body. But, in this moment, with her so close he can honestly say “I am.”

#acosf #acowar #acofas #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar series #azriel acotar

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minaturefics · 2 months

Text

Between the Shelves

Gift for @tolkien-fantasy ❤️: Gale x librarian!Reader, and a scene where he helps her get something from a high shelf.

A/N: My first time writing Gale - I tried very hard to get his speech and his mannerisms right. Hope you enjoy it friend!

Gale x librarian!Reader

Fem reader

No content warnings

1.9k words

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It was raining again in Waterdeep. The cool spring showers were yet to give way to the more temperate summer drizzles and the wind still held the lingering chill of winter. The library, however, through arcane means, remained comfortably warm and dry. You looked up from the patron registry on the counter for a moment and surveyed the room.

There were only a few people milling about between the shelves, and one or two scholars sequestered away in the reading nooks poring over books. There was the soft whisper of turning pages, an occasional cough or sneeze, and the faint scratch of pen on paper. A slow morning, but that was a relief. At least you wouldn’t have to chase out handsy youths or deal with yet another patron accidentally setting fire to something.

Really, those wizards should know better than to mutter random incantations they find scrawled in the margins of books.

You glanced back down at the registry and your eyes lingered on one of the names. Gale Dekarios. Your fingers hovered above the neat, cursive script, and a wistful sigh escaped your lips. He had wandered in a few weeks ago and spent a good few hours perusing the shelves. He had stopped by the counter with a stack of books and, while you filled out the borrowing cards, had rambled on about how delighted he was to find such a quaint library.

From then on, it seemed as though Gale dropped by the library every few days. He would linger by the counter on his way in or out, commenting about the weather, chatting about some city gossip, or putting in a request for a new book or series of texts to be added to the library. He would lean on the counter, his robes stretching over his broad chest, and smile at you, his eyes alight with something you could not name.

But then he would be gone, and you would be left with your books and pens and the endless quiet, eyes always drifting towards the door, wondering when he would walk through again.

With a sigh, you stood up and stretched. Maybe it would be better to put the nervous hum underneath your skin to good use — there were books to sort and shelve. You turned towards the nearby cart and began organising the books, the rhythmic task pushing out thoughts of him.

Gale walked around his sitting room, gathering books into a small stack in his arms. Was that all of them? He checked their due dates to be sure, but he supposed if he missed one out it was a good excuse to drop by the library to see you again. For a moment, he was worried that perhaps he was being too obvious. But how could he not return again and again?

He had been enraptured the moment he stepped into the library and saw you in a beam of sunlight. The light had haloed your head, your auburn hair nearly gold, and your beautiful blue eyes had shone from behind your glasses.

“Off to the library again, Mr. Dekarios?” Tara asked from where sat curled up on the armchair. “You’ve been going an awful lot recently.”

“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat, “what can I say? They do house some interesting texts and tomes.”

“And also, perhaps, an interesting librarian too?” she asked with a smug smile.

“Tara!”

“I know it’s been a long while since you’ve… courted someone, but this is really no way to go about it.”

“I’m… taking things slow, just gauging her interest. If there is any. Gods, I hope there’s some.” He glanced at her. “There’s no harm in that, is there?”

“You can hardly gauge her interest when you are barely showing any. Chatting about the weather? Putting in requests? I would be hard pressed to call any of that romantic conversation.”

He looked down at the books in his arms. Was he truly going about it at a glacial pace? It had been some time since he attempted to woo, let alone flirt with, someone.

You were so lovely and funny, and he so out of practice, that he thought going slow would reduce the risk of him putting his foot in his mouth. But perhaps Tara was right — banal small talk was not conducive for anything more than a passing acquaintance.

“Wait, have you been spying on me?”

She blinked at him, eyes full of mischief, and then turned away and licked her paw, a clear dismissal. He shook his head and smiled, and headed out to the library.

“You’re looking wonderful as always,” a familiar voice said, and you turned. Gale stood by the counter with a stack of books and a smile on his face.

“Gale,” you greeted and placed the books you were sorting back onto the cart, trying not to flush at his words. “Back for more books?”

“Er, yes. I’m back for more books. This is a library after all, and a fine one at that. I say, I must commend your book borrowing system here with the cards and all that. It’s very — very —”

You blinked at him. “Old-fashioned?”

“Yes, perhaps, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing! Those larger libraries with their magical systems and arcane book tagging are at risk of interference if there are any fluctuations in the Weave. And of course, it’s quite nice to have the personal touch of one’s name written on a card and kept in a drawer.”

What was going on with Gale? He was usually quite chatty but this felt more like an anxious ramble than a casual conversation.

“I’m… glad you appreciate it,” you said, eyeing him.

“Especially in such a beautiful hand as yours. Were you formally trained at school in the art of penmanship?”

“Uh, no more than any other student.”

“Well,” he said with a slight bow of his head, “you have certainly outclassed your peers.”

A smile threatened to break over your face and you ducked your head to hide your rising blush. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“I was… hoping for a recommendation. Not for any of the arcane tomes, mind. Just… a regular book.”

“Alright,” you said slowly, taking his returned books and placing it on the desk to deal with later. You glanced around the library — it was fairly quiet and you could afford a few moments away from the counter. “We could have a look together if you’d like?”

His eyes lit up and a wide smile spread across his face. “Yes, please, after you.”

He walked beside you as you made your way down the aisle. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

He shook his head. “I’d happily take one of your recommendations.”

He had a professorial look about him. Intellectual. Maybe he would enjoy some literary fiction? Or would that remind him too much of school? You turned down one of the aisle and paused in front of the wall of books. You scanned the spines, muttering the titles, thinking out loud.

“This one was well received by the critics, and this one here is good if you like something gothic, oh, but I suppose this might be good if you’re into —”

“What about the one up there? The, uh, the one with the spine of red and gold?”

You followed Gale’s gaze up to the book in question. “That? Well, I suppose no one can resist a good epic.”

You stretched, wobbling on the tips of your toes, and reached for it. Your hands scabbled at the air, fingertips just barely grazing the shelf the book was on. You landed back on your heels with a huff and glanced down the aisle. “I’ll need to find a footstool, if you don’t mind waiting, I’ll —”

The front of his robes brushed across your back. You could feel the warmth from him, smell his scent of musk and paper, hear his voice, low and rumbly from above you. “No need for that,” he said with a chuckle as he reached up.

Pressed between his body and the shelf, you could do nothing but stand there, enveloped by him. What terrible, wonderful torture, to have him so close and yet for him to mean nothing by it. You squeezed your eyes shut, whether wishing the moment would last longer, or be over quickly, you couldn’t decide. But then he was stepping back, moving away, and the cool air of the library rushed to meet your heated skin.

“There,” he said with satisfaction. You stared at the shelves, eyes focussing and unfocusing on the book titles. “Erm, everything alright?”

“Yes, yes of course,” you said in a rush, schooling your face into something neutral and whirling around to face him.

He was no more than a step away. “Are you sure?” He tilted his head a fraction, brows knitting. “You’re looking awfully flushed.”

You fought the urge to press the back of your hand to your cheek and you looked away.

“I’m perfectly fine, really.” The bell from the counter rang out and you jumped at the chance to hide how flustered you were . “Now if that’s all, I need to head back…”

“Wait. A moment, if you will.” His hand shot out to grasp your wrist, but he withdrew it just as quickly. “Forgive me. Um.” He cleared his throat. “I must confess I did not really come by for a book.”

“You… didn’t?” You frowned at him, confused. “I mean, all we have here are books. If you were in search of something else…”

“I am in search of something else, but I rather think what I’ve been searching for is right here.”

His eyes were soft and warm, his smile tender and affectionate.

You stared at him.

“Oh.”

“Yes, I…” He gestured awkwardly, the heavy book still in his hand, and gave a strained laugh. “I realised I haven’t been particularly clear in the past and it was at the behest of a… a friend… that I thought I should speak plainly.”

Your lips parted to reply, but he carried on, a rueful smile on his face.

“Now, I wouldn’t want to make things awkward for us, for you, I mean, especially here in your own library. If, well, if you do not reciprocate my interest, have no fear — I will take my patronage elsewhere and you will not have to worry about our paths crossing.” His smile faltered and his eyes grew sincere. “Truly, I will go if you ask.”

Your heart raced, your breath hitching in your throat, and you let out an incredulous exhale. “And… if I ask you to stay?”

A grin broke out across his face. “Why, then, I find I have no choice but to stay.”

You stood there for a moment, just looking at him, taking in the grey around his temples, the way his hair curled around his ear, the creases at the corners of his eyes.

“We can’t stay here forever, you know,” you said with a playful smile, “the library closes at seven.”

“A pity, forever in such a place would be a veritable paradise.” He laughed. “No matter, I can think of at least ten other places that we could go. The gardens, if you’re so inclined? Or maybe to one of those lovely little restaurants that opened up near the harbour?”

The bell rang out again and you glanced towards the counter. “Ah, I’m wanted at the front. But maybe later…?”

“I won’t keep you,” he said with a slight bow of his head. “Shall I meet you outside by the fountain? Seven?”

You nodded, already turning away, and threw a smile over your shoulder. “Until then.”

His eyes were full of promise and anticipation. “Until then.”

---

I am 100% convinced Gale would try to flirt by complimenting you on your skills/abilities. Also 100% convinced Tara secretly keeps tabs on his attempts at dating.

#gale x tav #gale x reader #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep

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cottonlemonade · 3 months

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Just Crazy Enough

word count: 2124 || avg. reading time: 9 mins.

pairing: Tendou x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, soft Tendou

warnings: a gamer‘s rage (cursing, suggestive language), some regular swearing too, otherwise none

synopsis: you can’t sleep and Tendou helps you out

____________________________________________

You wake up with a start, gasping for air. Your heart is racing and it takes you a couple of moments to realize where you are.

Evident by the small pool of drool on the table you must have fallen asleep at your desk while working on the paper for your creative writing class. You try to rub away a kink in your neck and reach for your phone to scroll through social media to find a distraction.

Tendou grins at your last message and, pushing his books aside, grabs his laptop. He turns to look over at Wakatoshi sleeping soundly. Normally, not even a jet engine could wake his best friend once he was out, but the red haired boy still decides it would be for the best to move to the common room of the Shiratorizawa dorms. There he could talk to you in voice chat without having to worry about disturbing anyone.

“Hey you.”, you greet him happily, but he can tell you are tired.

He wishes he could have been there when you had woken up and held you until you felt safe enough to go back to sleep.

“Hey to you, too. What do you feel like?”

“Hmm, just regular, I’d say. Not in the mood for ranked.”

While you two are waiting for the game to start he sends another puppy picture and his heart leaps when he hears you fawning over it.

Tendou does his best to distract you as much as possible while you queue, asking about how uni is going and you in turn want to know everything about yesterday‘s training.

You and Tendou have been good friends for about a year and he has been in love with you for about 11 months and two weeks. He met you in his second year, while you were in your third, helping out at a tournament. Having been assigned to support the Shiratorizawa managers, you handed out water and towels. At first Tendou was sure you would, like everyone else, be scared of him, avoid him or something but to his great surprise you were kind and bright and even struck up a conversation with the team when they waited for a new match and had some down time. When he found out you liked the same video games and manga as him he didn’t even notice that the team had called him away to court until Ushiwaka materialized by his side and with that silent stare of his demanded him to follow.

During the game then Tendou’s eyes had begun to look for you whenever he scored a point. He found you fascinating and really very pretty. Not to mention, he was rather surprised to meet a girl who didn’t run for the hills when he looked her way.

After the tournament he was a bit hesitant at first, hanging back in the locker room, trying to figure out if asking for your number was a good idea.

It was only when he was already taking his seat on the bus back to school that he decided to just go for it and jumped back out to jog over to where you were waiting with a few friends for your ride.

You offered a genuine smile and typed your number into his phone, giving sharp looks to a girl who made some mumbled comment about why you were giving him your real number.

Ever since then you are in close contact, meet up for movies, food or just general hangouts and you even come to his games to cheer him on.

The server finally connects you two to a game and for a while you just play without any noteworthy incident unless one would count the near heart attack he experienced when you called him sweet.

In the sixth or so game however...

Could you stop blowing your boyfriend and heal the entire team???

Tendou does a double take when he sees the words appear in the team chat. They can only be targeted towards you. You and him are the only ones in a group plus you are the only straight up healer.

You scoff into your headset and must have heard how he starts to angrily type a reply, because you just say, “Don’t. Let me do it.”

But where would be the fun in that? <3

Tendou coughs when he reads your answer.

Fucking retards, what are you doing!?

Well, we are both a little distracted.

“I’m really sorry for this.”, you say a second later.

“What are you apologizing for?”, he laughs (taking a screenshot of the exchange).

For the rest of the game, you both ignore the ongoing rampage in the team chat, the constant stream of insults and completely out of line suggestions and threats.

He feels bad that you are being attacked like this but on the other hand, you have started to jokingly call him “babe“ and he is thoroughly enjoying the experience.

At the end - of course your team won - you get the title Player Of The Game for Lifesaver and suddenly the chat goes really quiet. Both of you break out into laughter and he types a “Well done, baby. Love you <3“ into the chat sending you into another fit of giggles.

Much to his surprise you don‘t drop the new nickname and while he doesn‘t know what to do about it at first, he quickly figures out that you don‘t object to him returning the favour. As the night goes on he becomes braver and tries to see how much “pretended” flirting he can get away with. About 2 hours later he goes to bed with your “Sweet dreams, my love.” still in his ears, grinning like an idiot.

Usually sleeping in on a weekend with no extra training is a must and given that he has crawled into bed at around 4 in the morning, he easily would have slept until late afternoon. But he feels so energized from last night's events that he wakes up as soon as Wakatoshi comes back from his morning jog.

He reaches for his phone and to his surprise sees that you are already online.

Still feeling elated and confident he types.

Satori: Good morning, gorgeous. Slept well? x

And immediately regrets it. He really hopes he hasn't taken it too far. Shit, what was he thinking!? He tosses the phone away like a hot potato and groans loudly into his pillow - Wakatoshi is so used to his antics that he doesn‘t even question it.

After what is probably the longest minute of his life his phone pings with a new message and, hugging his pillow tightly to his chest, he carefully leans over to squint at the screen.

You: Good morning, loverboy ☺️ how are you already up? It‘s Saturday! Eh, sleep is optional.

His shoulders drop a little at the implication that you haven‘t managed to fall asleep after he left you a few hours ago. But at the same time a wide grin spreads across his face when you don‘t dismiss his affections.

And suddenly he has a crazy idea.

Half an hour later he stands in front of your door, freshly showered, a bag slung over his shoulder, a plan on his mind that may be just crazy enough to work.

You look surprised when you open the door but smile brightly.

"What are you doing here?“ Yawn. “I'm really sorry, but I don't know if I'll be good company today.", you say meekly, the shadows under your eyes telling a vivid story about how long your night must have been.

"Just figured I could be a supportive boyfriend and help my girl sleep."

Too tired to question any of it, you step aside and let him into your tiny student apartment.

When he takes off his shoes and jacket, you suppress another yawn, rubbing your eyes and Tendou tries not to blush at how cute you are.

"Off you go!", he shoos you further into your home, towards your bed, "Go on."

"But-"

"No buts, let's go."

You stumble for a second then shuffle over to your bed, him right behind you.

Sleepily you climb between the sheets, looking at him through heavy eyes, yet another yawn on your lips.

"So you came here to command me to sleep?"

"Not exactly.", he grins mysteriously and an understanding of his plan dawns on your face.

"You are not getting into my bed with street clothes."

"I know.", he taps his bag with a superior look.

Tendou hops into your bathroom and emerges dressed in his sleep wear a few moments later (a loose shirt with a faded charizard roaring across the chest and sweatpants), striking a pose, which makes you chuckle. And then yawn again.

For a second he stands at the foot of your bed, waiting for you to object, to tell him, he has gone too far but to his immense relief you just push a few pillows around and brush a plushie out of the way, making a space for him.

Up until now it has all somewhat felt like a joke, but as he settles into your bed inches from your warm body, he realises what he has accomplished and the weight of it sinks into his stomach. He swallows.

Taking a quiet breath he hesitates, then wraps his arm around you from behind, pulling you against his chest. You shift for a second and he loosens his hold immediately in case you want to scoot away from him again, but you only make yourself comfortable and let out a deep breath. He tightens his hug again, loving how your soft shape fits so perfectly against him. Absurdly, he wonders if you‘ll even be able to sleep with just loud his heart is hammering.

"Thank you.", you mumble.

"Any time."

When you both wake up, the sun has already started to go down again, bathing your home in a golden glow.

"Please take this exactly the way that I am saying it.", your voice was low and a little squished, "It was really nice sleeping with you."

"Glad to hear it. Right back at ya.", Tendou smirks. He is lying on his back, with your head on his chest, your hands, so much smaller than his, folded on top of each other as a cushion. At some point during his sleepover you had entwined your legs with his.

Without thinking he takes a strand of your hair between his fingers and starts to play with it. You stretch luxuriously like a cat in the sun.

"Want to sleep some more?"

"Nah I'm good, but don't you have anything better to do on your day off?"

"Better than this? Fuck no."

You laugh, relaxing again.

A moment later you shiver and he pulls up the blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders.

"You are a very good boyfriend, you know that?"

"Thanks, I try."

You fall into comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the cicadas outside your window and cars whooshing past in the distance.

After a while you begin to fiddle with the hem of his shirt.

"Everything alright?", he asks.

"Yeah I'm just wondering… what this is?"

"A shirt." That earns him a playful knock on the chest and you sit up, taking your cozy warmth with you.

"You know what I mean.", you say with a furrowed brow. Tendou sits up as well, resting his back against your headboard.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.", he says earnestly.

"You didn't. I like what you did for me, but I just don't want to worry about what it means for the next two months so I am asking.", you shrug and Tendou gives you a small smile, which you return, but then look away.

He braces himself. "It means what you want it to mean. If you want to see it as a friend helping out a friend, then great. However…", he searches for the right words, "if you… would not be opposed to the idea of making this a reality … and let me be your actual boyfriend, then that.. would be even better."

You meet his eyes and try to look for any indication of a joke.

“You know, I really can‘t tell if you‘re kidding or not.“

“Why would I joke about something like that?“

“…“

“You have a point, but, well, I‘m not joking right now.“

“Huh. Alright.“

“Alright?“

“Yup.“

“Cool.“

“Rad.“

After a moment of staring at each other with straight faces, you both break out into laughter. Then Tendou pulls you into his arms and peppers your face with kisses.

____________________________________________

art: (the little profile picture used in the texts) @BRTRmilk_ on Twitter

(the dog) by snatti on pixie.net

#tendou x chubby reader #tendou x reader #tendou satori #tendou fluff #haikyuu x chubby reader #tendou smau #hq tendou #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #tendo x reader #tendo x chubby reader #tendo fluff #haikyuu tendo #tendo satori

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lullaebies · 2 months

Note

No clue if your still taking asks for Aegon III and Jaehaera but what about one where they were secretly courting (Aegon giving Jaehaera gifts like jewels, books she likes and maybe telling her a few stories or singing songs?) they do a similar thing to Daemon and Rhaenyra in the brothel (maybe they’re in a tavern or something?). Maybe Aegon II or Daemon catch them, regardless of how they are caught both are confront and Aegon III ends up asking Aegon II for Jaehaera’s hand in marriage then and there?

Maybe Aegon II’s like: “You ruined my daughter who else will wed her now?”

Meanwhile Aegon III: “Wed her to me. I’ll take her as she is”

Maybe it causes and uproar with the Blacks and Greens both protesting against it while Alicent, Daemon and Rhaenyra hear this conversation and are like “oh no…” cause this has happened before and the chances of it happening again are so unlikely. And maybe they’re confronted like when Aemond lost his eye and everyone yells at each other?

(Also it would be funny if both the Greens and the Blacks were to absorbed in their bickering they didn’t even notice Jaehaera and Aegon III’s feelings for each other? And it isn’t until this happened that they realize how deep this runs and maybe they all overreact to this?)

A/N: I will note here before I start that I actually wrote a very similar request to this already over here. Not sure if you were aware of it but bringing it forward for any case, you may enjoy this one too. That being said, you provided a different dialogue route, so I'll still do this req too. What I linked is from Jaehaera's POV - this will be from Aegon III's POV.

—

“Unhand my son,” his mother yells at his uncle. “At this very moment!”

Although sobered by now, Aegon still feels as if the world moves too fast to comprehend. One moment he is in a tavern with Jaehaera, playing with the earrings he himself had bought her a moon prior and tasting the ale she drank from her very own lips, and in another, he is grabbed, tossed and dragged back here.

Aegon the Elder has a vice grip on his collar. The man is no towering figure, he is in fact smaller than him, but he had the very hold of death when he had caught them in the tavern’s booth. He tasted the blood in his mouth still from several punches. Tomorrow, his eyes would not be the only thing purple about him.

His uncle releases a dismissive sight. It is only when his father steps forward, clutching Dark Sister’s grip, that anything changes. Prince Aemond stands tall with his brother, and Ser Criston Cole goes to charge against his father, but before any fight can take place, Aegon the Elder throws him to the floor.

He hears Jaehaera squeaking, held aside by her mother and twin brother. The peasant garb she had worn to the city hasn’t dimmed her beauty even a smidge. Her usually pin-straight hair is a mess, and his only comfort at this moment is remembering how his fingers felt running through it. Her lips are still flushed and bruised from kisses, vibrant red because of him, for him.

His fingers twitch towards her on the floor, while his brothers surround him.If he had the strength to push them all away, he would. Let me be where I want to be.

“You dare batter a prince? In what world do you think it will go unpunished?!” His mother is still raging.

“This very one, half-sister,” Aegon the Elder yells back, sounding nearby beastly. “I’d sharply question him, but I saw for myself. He touched my daughter.”

Queen Alicent, still in shock, soon blocks his view of Jaehaera. “How long has this been going on for? Tell me now, Jaehaera,” she begins her questioning. His Haera looks the most vulnerable fawn as all eyes in the room land on her, fiddling with one of her fallen earrings. “Tell me so we can fix this.”

She sniffles hard, teary eyes glancing at him in concern. “A little more than..” she stutters. Queen Alicent presses her shoulders. “A little more than a year.”

Before Aegon could even comprehend the confession, Aegon the Elder comes forward once more, swinging his leg and kicking him straight in the face. “You fucking rat!”

“Father!” Jaehaera lets out a wail. While Aegon groans in pain, head slammed against the floor once more, it seems as if an all out war is brewing in the room. Kingsguards rush to the middle of the room, while his brothers are ready to jump his uncles. Even Jaehaerys comes to push Joffrey away from reaching his father.

Aegon the Elder, as his mother and father introduced him, had been a sullen slob with only hatred within his very core. But his Uncle stands over him and looks at him with fire that implies anything but hatred, at least when it comes to his daughter.

“More than a year... You think my daughter is a common whore for you to flaunt and kiss at taverns? You think she’s a plaything for you to call upon whenever?” he hisses at him. “You ruined her. You have been ruining her! Your mother may have never taught you consequences, but they exist, in this world. Who would wed her now?”

There are many answers to that question. Normally, in their family, it would be one of her brothers, but Jaehaera has noted she and her close family all dislike that idea. Lords that see an opportunity, perhaps; Jaehaera is the only granddaughter of the King, with a dragon to boot. Anyone with eyes, is another thought, as he remembers her round pouts, and long lashes that bat curiously whenever he speaks.

Yet the truth is, there has been only one answer.

“Wed her to me,” he pants out, the blood from his nose dribbling aside. His voice is unwavering, ever clear in the quieting room. “I will have her. I want her.”

She is mine, as much as her father hates to admit it. She is meant to be mine.

The atmosphere shifts in the room. Jaehaera is frozen in place, teary eyes begging. His brothers and mother all turn to gasping stones, but it is his father that has his eyes completely changed. He moves away from Ser Criston Cole, staring at him.

“You will have her?” Aegon the Elder nearly spits out. “Little prick. You will have her when I fade to ash.”

“That is it,” Queen Alicent then says, pushing her son away from him. “Prince Aegon will meet a maester before we all turn to speak mindlessly. I must see Jaehaera to her own maester as well.” The woman sighs.

To check if I took her, is implicit in her words. I should have. Should have wedded and bedded her before any of them could take her away. Jaehaera’s mother and brother take her away, while Prince Aemond and Ser Criston Cole both convince his uncle to step away from him.

“After we know…” Queen Alicent grimaces. “We will speak of this more, Princess Rhaenyra.”

“We shall,” his mother says. “Do trust this will not be forgotten, Queen Alicent.”

Aegon is helped onto his legs by his brothers. Talk of concussions, responsibilities, and temporary madness all come his way from all fronts as they walk the Red Keep’s hallways. At the end, it is his father that takes him to the maester’s door. His father keeps a stern face. Aegon knows his father does not like that side of this family, he knows he hates them more than anything. However, he keeps his pride about him.

“I don’t regret it,” Aegon says when they are by the guest room assigned to him. “She is meant to be mine. I will ask it again.”

“You will not,” Daemon answers him, cutthroat. His father’s hand reaches to squeeze on his upper arm, hard.

Aegon gulps. There is something sinister about his father’s gaze.

“Ask, that is. You said all that needed to be said, and I know it will be true,” Daemon tells him. “You will have her. One way… or the other.”

His father turns on his heel, and leaves him be. Jaehaera is there at the back of his mind, sweet lips and violet eyes, with her beauty marks and her gentle voice comparing to the calm of moonlight, but the bride price may be costlier than just the blood dripping down his face.

#i felt the people's call for overprotective papa aegon ii. there u go fellows #aegon ii when he was just going to get drunk in his favorite tavern and then seeing his daughter and nephew making out it: 😱#also feel free to send any request but it might just take me time to get to it #jaehaegon #jaehaera x aegon iii #aegon iii x jaehaera #jaehaera targaryen #aegon iii targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #reqs #my fanfics #my fics #answered

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shhh-secret-time · 4 months

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Next request actually comes from AO3! I gotta admit, I was really excited about this one!

Warning: Dom/Sub dynamic, Sub!Kyle, Dom!Reader, Strong Language, Praise Kink?, NSFW

Pairing: High Fae King Kyle x F!Reader

Notes: So you noticed the Fae in there did you? So my roommate and I have an small AU where Kyle isn't just king of the elves, he's King of the Summer Court as well! Soooome of the stuff I used has a little D&D logic behind it, but you have to squint to really see it!

Art by: Leoncio Harmr - De Profundis Clamavi

Heavy boots echoed through the halls of the castle; the ivory floor polished to perfection carried the sound until it made its way to your room. You were laying in your shared chambers lounging on the bed dressed in fine silks, now the book you were reading a distant thought. Not that you were able to pay attention to it anyway. The peaceful and serene sounds of the rain outside your window didn't help any, neither did the fact the book was so incredibly boring.

With a hum you moved the sheets off your body pulling the beautiful white material away. Pulling the forest green robe off the chair next to you and onto your form, you made your way to the door. You didn't need to really open the door to know whose footsteps those were.

Your sweet husband, your darling partner, your most precious one. Kyle Broflovski, better known as the High Fae King of the Summer Court to the elves and the other Fae citizens. When you opened the chamber doors you could immediately feel how tense he was from just the doorway. It was like a wave of heat brushing off him and you could feel it on your skin.

"My love." Kyle's voice sounds so winded, like he's out of breath the moment he saw you.

You smile as his eyes roam over your body admiring your form and like a switch that raging fire turned to a gentle breeze, by his legs maple leaves began to pick up and swirl around him. There were many titles your husband held, but High Druid was the one he was the most proud of, his command over the elements was nothing to take lightly.

"My heart." You respond as you hold yourself high, gliding across the castle floor with grace.

Kyle raises his hand, dismissing the guards who were ordered to escort him. Once you reach him, he holds his hands out to gently take yours. Despite how gentle he tried to be; you could feel how tense he was even past the gorgeous, embroidered gloves he wore.

"My apologies, did I wake you?"

"No, I was waiting for you to come to bed. But something tells me that you weren't planning on retiring to our chambers anytime soon."

"Hm... it would be foolish to try and hide anything from you."

"Now when did my husband become so wise?" You joked softly, cupping his face with your hands. Smiling as he seemed to melt into your touch, the much taller man leaning down to bask in the soft affection.

"Perhaps you're finally starting to rub off on me." He whispered, pressing a warm kiss into the palm of your hand. His lips finding the wedding band, the silver band that bound your souls together.

You couldn't help but let out a gentle laugh, even after all these years being married to him, he found a way to make you blush. The day he asked you to be his Queen, to shoulder the burdens of an entire realm, to help him lead and carry him when he could not walk. Your pride in him made it easy, he was a wonderful man and right now he looked as if he were about to buckle under the weight. And you knew just the cure.

"Then allow me to continue your lesson towards being a wise man." Your voice was like the silks you wore, a cool splash of water against his raging fire. Taking him by the hand again, you lead him to the double doors of your shared room. "Now, what troubles you, my heart."

Kyle took a deep breath, his brows knitted together frustration written on his face. You knew that look all too well he was conflicted about you telling you how he felt but you'd be damned if you let that slide. All it took was a single look from you and for you to cross your arms under your chest, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle. He lets out the deep breath through his nose, the sound of his leather gloves creasing as flexes his fingers.

"I am not a child to be scrutinized."

"Did I say you were?" Perhaps you were playing with fire with that question, the way his jaw shift and his gaze darkens but if you feared fire, you would not be married to the man who embodied Summer itself.

"In fact, I believe I asked what troubles you. And correct me if I am wrong or if I step out of line my King, but you are in the presence of your wife? The very woman who swore an oath to the Kingdom and her people, and more importantly to help shoulder the burden of her husband." As you spoke, he watched you step towards him, each step felt like it was amplifying your words.

He felt the dynamic between the both of you shift, your body language speaking louder than the words spilling from your lips. Kyle looked down at you once more before closing his eyes. A silent request to take the reins and let him unburden himself. To let him just be. The very thought was enough to make his shoulders fall forward, giving you the non-verbal confirmation, you needed.

"It...is this war. It weights heavy on not only me but my men. Each battle we lose more, each fight chips away at their will. They look to me for answers, a solution to put this damned thing to rest! But I don't have the answers!" Kyle shouts as your hands cup his face once more, the wall he put up shattering at just a simple gesture. "I send my men to die over and over again, men who have families, men who I swore to protect! I'm not protecting them; I'm hiding behind them like a coward! I should be out there!"

As he continued you caressed his face, brushing the freckles that dusted his face under the pads of your thumb. The war between the Humans and Fae raged on longer than anyone thought it would, and now that the elves were involved it only added to the casualty count. It was no wonder your husband was coming to bed later and later, if at all. It was no wonder why there would be days you'd be lucky to even see him as he spent most of his time locked away in the council room. He was burning himself out, the High Druid of the Summer court fading away like dying embers.

"Hush... you are not a coward. Do not speak as if you do nothing. Our people see how hard you try."

"Do they? When I close my eyes all I can see are the faces of those I've lost. Of those that I let down." His voice cracks and so does your heart.

"The realm has already placed enough on your shoulders, do not place more on it. You don't need to carry this alone. I cannot tell you not to feel for those who have given their lives but do not take away their sacrifice by destroying yours. Worship the flame and tend to the ashes my sun." Your words, God your words were like coming up for air after being submerged under water for too long.

You call him your sun, but the light you shine on him fills him with a sense of belonging. Finally, his hands unclench from the tight fist he wasn't aware he had them in and find home on your hips. He pulls you into an embrace, one he hasn't had the luxury to have you in, in so long.

"My moon. My night sky."

"My sun. My light."

"Let me take some of that pain from you. Allow me to take care of you tonight. Will you let me?" You guide him towards the bed, sitting him down at the edge of the plush bed. You dip your head down stopping just inches from his lips, he feels your breath ghosting over his lips and suddenly his mouth goes all to dry. The smell of the wine you had earlier was just enough to make the tips of his pointed ears go red and his mind go fuzzy. "I need an answer my heart."

"Y... yes please." He knows better than to lean forward, to capture your lips in a searing kiss so he settles for a whisper.

"Then tonight you are not the High Druid of the elves, nor are you the King of the Summer Court. Behind this door and within these walls you are but my husband, a man with his heart to bare to me. Am I clear?"

Kyle could feel his face turning red at your command. What little willpower he had was used to not let his eyes flutter shut and immediately let himself melt. He responds with another shaky sigh. "Yes my Queen. I give you all I have and more."

"There's my good boy." Your voice fell to a hush as you finally, finally sealed your lips onto his.

Kyle felt your hands brushing into his hair, intertwining fingers through his curls. The feathery curls twist around your slender fingers parting as you began massaging his scalp. The golden branches that made up his crown fell back off his head and onto the bed behind him, but he couldn't care, not when your fingers felt so good. Each kiss lasting longer than the last, the sweet taste of grapes swirling between your tongues. It was only when you pulled away and giggled that he realized he let out a whimper.

"My~ you're whimpering from my kisses alone? I cannot wait to pull more of those delicious sounds from you." You purred in his ear and nipped at the sensitive flesh pulling a moan from him. "Remove your clothes for me~"

Such a simple demand, yet Kyle couldn't help the excitement as you finally gave him permission to rid himself of his clothes. His hands worked the complex material of his robes sliding it down his shoulders, the warmth from your bodies caressing the exposed skin. As he toed his boots off you stopped him by placing your hands on his shoulders, your finely done nails gently raking across his skin.

"Slowly now Kyle, we have all night." Your voice was like a leash making his body jerk to a stop.

Sliding his palms down his pants he looked up at you with such a pleading look begging you to do something. He needed to feel your skin on his, wanted you so carnally he was sure he was going to go mad. Each time your nails traced down his chest, his muscles would flex in response. Every little gesture had such an effect on him, yet he wouldn't dare ask you to stop.

"You're being very good for me tonight, I'm so very proud of you. You deserve your reward~" You whisper against his neck, trailing soft kisses down the skin.

You pulled your hands away to remove your own clothes, the silks pooling at your feet lying next to his. A small thrill rose up in you when Kyle's eyes widened, and his lips parted in awe. The beautiful corset that hugged your sides perfectly, digging into your skin in just a way that wasn't painful but made your body look so soft; the sunrise color pallet complimenting your eyes and hair.

"May I touch you, I need to feel you love." He asks because he knows better, knows better than to disappoint you, not when you've given him such a beautiful gift.

Smiling, you took his hands in yours guiding the calloused hands up to your hips. His thumbs pressing into the supple flesh, still in a trance. You weren't just his queen, you were a goddess, something to be worshipped. You could see it in his eyes, the pleading look evolved to desperation, and you knew he couldn't take much more.

"So pretty for me, my husband. My lover." Each praise was separated by a kiss as you pushed against his chest laying him back against the bed.

Your hands made quick work of his pants and the material that held his hardened cock, once freed from his constraints it bobbed and pressed against his stomach. Milky white pearls of pre-cum already leaking out of the red angry tip, leaking when you crawled over; him thighs parted enough to straddle his lap. He sucked in a breath, hitching in his throat when you took his hardened member in your hands.

Kyle threw his head back feeling your soft hands pull up against the sensitive flesh, tugging and smearing his cock with his own arousal. He didn't bother to muffle the moans you pulled from his throat, deep sounds filling your chambers. You smiled softly at how beautiful he looked under you. His face was flushed a deep red, making the freckles on his face pop, twisted in pleasure as you continued to work his shaft.

"O-Oak Father preserve me, my love please! I-I can't take much more!" He begs for a god as his cock twitches in your hands, his breathing picks up turning to erratic pants. Kyle could hear his heart pounding in his ears as the knot in his stomach began to pull taught.

"Not yet."

"M-my moon please I-"

"I said not yet" You lowered your face down towards his, pressing another kiss against his throat. Just as your hand squeezed the base of his cock your teeth sunk into his pale flesh. Sucking the patch of skin, you had to stop yourself from laughing when he bucked his hips against your hand and cried out. When you pulled away from the bruised love mark with a pop Kyle was sure he was seeing stars, making his eyes roll up to the back of his head.

You continued your assault down his chest, printing your teeth marks all over his skin, mapping it out with your tongue and the faded paint of your lipstick. From the corner of your eye, you watched his hand fist the sheets beneath him, nails digging into the mattress. With a playful purr you pulled up to admire your work, your husband looked like a piece of art. Painted so pretty beneath you.

"Keep your eyes on me. If you close them, I will stop." Your voice broke him from his daze, the fear that you would stop when he was so, so close snapped him to attention.

Gently you positioned yourself above his throbbing cock, lowering yourself down slowly taking him inch by inch. Even now as he slowly began to fill you up, you gaze down at him with such a passionate gaze; watching his chest heave up and down. Kyle's own eyes were blown out from lust, the orbs that usually held such peace and balance now glued to yours. And when you smiled down at him, his mind just went blank. Nothing else outside of these walls mattered but you.

"Oh~ you fill me so well Kyle." You finally let out a moan as you fully slid down his cock, your cunt wrapping around him. "Go ahead, touch me. Take what you need."

Finally. Fucking finally. His hands fly to your thighs to squeeze them, fingers sinking into the warm skin. His thrusts start out slow, dragging the length of his member in and out of you as if he was trying to memorize the feeling of your walls. Kyle pulled himself out of you until only the tip of his member remained around your hole and then slowly, he lowered you back down along his shaft. He needed more, had to have more. Sweat beginning to build up between the both of you, little beads of sweat tracing the outlines of your forms. Your own arousal making it easier for him to fuck up into you, the little thrusts turning into his arms wrapped around your waist trapping you against his chest.

Still, he doesn't break eye contact with you especially not when your hands grip his jaw and force his face up. The room echoed with the sounds of skin slapping against each other and both of your moans intertwined with one another. When your walls flutter and tighten around him he knows your close, he knows you're about to cum. Neither of you have to say anything, not when the sound of voice pitches. Now when you dig your nails into his flesh, adding onto the collection of marks you've left.

"K-Kyle cum in me. I want to cum with you~!" That was it. That was when Kyle saw a flash of white and suddenly his cock was pulsating inside of you. Letting out a chocked moan as he painted the inside of your walls with his thick cum. So much of pushed up into your cunt that it began spilling down his shaft and smeared across your thighs. He could feel your slick drip down and mix with his.

Pressing his palm down on the small of your back, he laid there with you on top of him basking in each other’s glow. As you both worked on coming down from your high, he rubbed circles on your back.

"Do you feel better?" You broke the silence with the simple little question.

"I do. Thank you my love, I don't know what I did to deserve you." He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You deserve to be happy Kyle. Deserve to be pampered."

"Greedy even?"

"Well, I would think so." You smile up at him as you press your cheek into his chest.

"Then I believe it was a beautiful queen that once said, 'We have all night'." He smirks down at you as he rolls the both of you over. You let out a little gasp when you feel his cock twitch back to life.

You only smirked back and wrapped your arms around his neck lazily throwing your arms over his shoulders. Your husband had that fire back, the dying embers now a roaring flame. The heat radiating from him was a different one now, full of life just as it should be.

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