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writerinlearning · 1 year

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𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐫𝗼𝐧𝐠 | 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍. 𝗈𝗇𝖾.

𝗽𝗹𝗼𝘁: 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗈’𝖺𝗄 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒𝗌 𝗑 𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒!𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺. 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾!𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌. 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌. 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗒𝖺𝗆’𝗌 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗒 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗋𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐. 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗇𝖺’𝗏𝗂 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝟤𝗄

𝗮.𝗻: 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌. @websterss 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝗂𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗆 𝗂 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍. 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾. 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾.

𝗻𝗮’𝘃𝗶 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲: 𝘀𝘄𝗮𝗽𝘅𝗶̀ [𝘴𝘸𝘢.’𝘱’𝘪]: 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 // 𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗹𝘁𝗶̀𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘂: [𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘫𝘶]: 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝗋 // 𝗺𝗮𝘄𝗲𝘆 [𝘮𝘢𝘸ε𝘫]: 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆

𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 || 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝗐𝖺𝗉𝗑𝗂̀ 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽: 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍. 𝗈𝗇𝖾 || 𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

She cannot say for certain when things have gone wrong. It was supposed to go smoothly, without any trouble like she had promised her father when she told him she’d keep an eye on her siblings. And she did. Until she didn’t.

“Lo’ak,” she says, sternly. “We are not supposed to be here. Especially when Tuk is with us.”

Lo’ak turns to his older sister, glaring. When he sees her staring back and not faltering, he sighs and raises his hands in defeat.

“She was going to tell mom if I didn’t bring her with us.”

Lo’ak defends himself, to which Tuk replies by sticking her tongue out at him. Y/N rolls her eyes and shakes her head at her siblings’ antics, and she nudges her head forward, indulging her brother into leading the way. She holds her bow and an arrow in one hand, and her ears twitch with even the littlest of noises in the forest. She knows there might be Sky People camps here, and she remembers her father’s words to keep her siblings safe. She was the older sister, barely a few minutes older than Neteyam, and she understood the responsibility she had over her younger siblings. And she does not want to disappoint her parents, nor does she want to lose their trust in her.

“Bro!” Y/N hears Spider say, and she shakes her head. “That’s where your dad and my dad fought.”

Y/N frowns, and she silently walk closer to peer through the large leaves in front of her. There is an old trailer there, grey and rusty with a window busted, covered with vines and moss from being left untouched or operated for so long. There is a large machine laying on the ground, where she can see two of her mother’s arrows, and Y/N knows that this is where her father’s old enemy, the Colonel Quarrich, died during the war against the Sky People.

What she does not expect, however, is to hear voices. Several of them, both feminine and masculine. Tuk shifts in front of her, and Y/N rests a gentle hand on her little sister’s shoulder to keep her calm. She squints her eyes, and she sees them. A group of uniltìranyu:, avatars controlled by Sky People. She takes a step back and brings Tuktirey with her when she notices their weapons. She then glances at Lo’ak, who seems to be a step ahead of her, as he talks to someone whom she can only guess to be her father. She looks over her shoulder when someone taps behind her back, and she smiles at Kiri when she offers her an earpiece to listen to their father’s words.

“I’ve got eyes on some guys.” Lo’ak explains. “They look like avatars but they’re in full camo and carrying AR’s. There are six of them. Over.”

“What’s your position?” Jake answers through the earpiece. “Over.”

“We are at the old shack.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me, Spider, Kiri, Y/N.” Lo’ak pauses and glances at Tuktirey. “And Tuk.”

There is a brief pause, and Y/N can clearly picture her father’s face upon hearing that Tuk is with them at the old shack. She imagines her mother is with him, and she does not want to think about what she might think of the whole situation. And if she knows her twin, she knows Neteyam is with them, and he can hear the whole conversation too. She sighs and closes her eyes, before she hears her father’s voice once more through the earpiece.

“Son, you listen to me very carefully.” Jake says. “Pull back right now. Do not make a sound. Get the hell out of there. Move, copy?”

“Yes sir, moving out.”

Lo’ak answers, and begins to walk backward. Y/N follows and pulls Tuk with her when she knows Kiri and Spider are following behind. She can picture the looks her parents must have been given each other upon hearing their children’s location, brows furrowed and lips into a thin line. She wonders if they’ll get angry at her, for not stopping Lo’ak from executing his stupid ideas, and she knows that if they do get angry, she’ll take the blame for her brother’s actions. Because that is what she and Neteyam always did, take the blame for Lo’ak’s recklessness.

“You’re going to be in so much trouble.”

Kiri whispers as the little group walks through the forest, walking over a lump of tree laying in their way. Y/N turns and glares at her sister, shaking her head.

“Kiri, stop.” She says, sternly.

“It’s almost eclipse, come on.”

Tuk says to her siblings, and Y/N barely has time to say anything before Tuk screams when someone jumps from behind some large bushes and grabs her little sister. She curses and hisses, preparing to aim her arrow at the avatar holding her sister, and she sees Spider doing the same when another avatar in full camp grabbed Kiri by her hair. Though, she doesn’t have the time to shoot her arrow, as she is yanked back by someone grabbing onto her queue, sending a sharp pain through her skull. Her bow and arrow fall from her grip, and she curses again, before looking at her siblings.

“Y/N!” Tuk calls out for her. “Y/N!”

“Mawey.” Y/N says, but she does not know if it is more for herself, or for her siblings. “Mawey.”

She wants to reach for her baby sister, but Y/N is held back by an avatar holding onto her arms behind her back as she falls to her knees. She sees Tuk is trying to hold back her tears next to Kiri who struggles to stay put in the avatar’s grip holding her down. Lo’ak grunts and hisses from where he stands in front of her, held back by a third avatar, and Spider is the only one who remains on his feet, held back by a fourth avatar holding onto his upper arms.

“What have we here?”

Y/N glances up, and she sees him, the leader of this avatar party. He holds his weapon as if ready to load it up and fire, but she knows he won’t shoot. She can see in his eyes that he already has an idea of who they are, and she waits expectantly. His eyes lands on the five of them, and he throws his weapon behind his back. He turns when someone calls for him, and Y/N’s eyes follow his movements until they land on Kiri. The avatar holding her has her hand in his, showing her fingers to his leader. Y/N hisses, baring her fangs as the soldier approaches her sister. She struggles to get free, but another tug at her queue stops her from moving further, the pain running sharp through her skull.

“Look, Colonel.” The avatar holding Kiri speaks. “Check it out. Four fingers. We have a half-breed.”

Y/N hears Spider mumbles a whispered shit, but her eyes are solely on her sister. She promised her father she would look after them, and she doesn’t care that those avatars are armed with lethal weapons. If they so much as lay a hand on Kiri, or Tuk, she will not hesitate to draw blood. Sully’s stick together, as her father always says, and she intends to keep it that way.

The Colonel looks at Kiri, before he turns around and points at Lo’ak. Y/N glances his way, and silently she pleads him not to do anything stupid.

“Show me your fingers.” The Colonel says.

Y/N shakes her head slowly, but the avatar holding her tightens his grip on her queue and hair, making her hiss in pain. Tears linger at her waterline from the pain, but she can see Lo’ak glaring at the Colonel whilst flipping him off by showing him both his middle fingers. The Colonel only chuckles at that, and he slightly tilts his head to the side, keeping his eyes on her brother.

“You’re his, aren’t you?” He asks, almost playfully.

Y/N knows then that this avatar knows who they are, and who their father is. She wants to glance over her shoulder, because she knows the old shack is not far, and suddenly it all makes sense. The Colonel is Colonel Quaritch, the one their father fought against during the war with the Sky People. How he came back as an avatar, Y/N has no idea, but she knows one thing. She has to protect her siblings, no matter what. She hears Lo’ak hiss at the Colonel, and she forces her eyes back onto her siblings.

“You’re his alright.”

The Colonel states, smiling, before his smile falters and he grabs Lo’ak by the hair.

“Get your hands off of him, you bastard!”

Y/N shouts, her words venomous as she spits them out, but the Colonel doesn’t spare her a single glance, amused by how Lo’ak struggles and grunts in his grip.

“Where is he?”

The Colonel asks Lo’ak, to which he answers in Na’vi. Y/N doesn’t expect the soldier to understand her brother’s words, but when he speaks back in their tongue, she bites back another remark, sending daggers through his skull. She cannot stand to see her siblings struggle, and when Lo’ak lets out a pained hiss, her heart breaks in its cage. She wants to do something, but the grip on her hair and queue is too strong and too painful that even the slightest move sends a jolt through her skull.

“Really? You wanna play it this way?”

Y/N hears the Colonel says, and when she looks up, he has drawn a knife from somewhere, holding it threateningly above her brother. She reaches forward and grunts against the avatar’s grip on her, as Lo’ak is sent tumbling backward by the Colonel. He looms threateningly towards Kiri, who is held on her feet by the avatar gripping her arms. Y/N struggles further to break free, trashing in the avatar’s grip on her. She doesn’t care about the pain anymore; all she cares about is that her siblings remain safe. She doesn’t care if she ends up being hurt in the process. Spider struggles besides her as he yells for the Colonel not to hurt Kiri, and it seems that it is the first time he notices him.

He looks out of place, a human child amongst Na’vi children, with his mask that helps him breathe the Pandoran air of the planet, and his blue stripes painted on his body to resemble those of the Omaticaya people. There is a discussion between them, to which Y/N pays no mind. She is solely focused on the well-being of her siblings. Her eyes fall on each of them, and when they land on Kiri, the younger girl can see the determination in her sister’s eyes. Kiri mutters softly, pleading her sister not to do anything rash.

“You can’t put babies in cryo, dip shit.”

Y/N hears Spider says, and she spares a glance his way. She wonders what has the Colonel baffled, and then, she remembers. The Colonel, in his human form, is Spider’s father. At the realization, she seethes and hisses, which makes the Colonel turns to her. He tilts his head, and, as he looks at her, he remembers about the determination he sees in her eyes. It’s the same one he remembers from when his human form fought against her father at the old shack. Y/N feels small under his stare, but she does not back down from her fierce posture. Instead, she spits at his feet, and he raises a brow, amused. Her glaring daggers at him doesn’t do anything to him, and instead he scoffs and walks around, saying things that Y/N doesn’t bother to listen to.

“Y/N!”

She hears Tuk’s voice, and her ears perk up. Before she has time to look for her sister, Y/N is yanked upwards by the avatar holding her, and the party begins to walk further into the forest. She knows they have become baits for their father to come for them. She doesn’t doubt he will, but she hopes she can do something before he has to end up dead or captured by Quaritch.

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: @websterss // @sully-stick-together // @eywas-heir // @nao-cchi

#writerinlearning #fic: no swapxì left behind #nslb #the sully's x reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #neteyam x twin sister!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #tuk x sister!reader #avatar the way of water #jake sully x daughter!reader

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torturedblue · 9 months

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Part 2 of endless Disaster Twin parallels, the not so fun version

Part 1, the fun version

Considering the series shows Donnie coming off as autistic, he’s portrayed that way much more in fan art and fanfics, etc. We often see it in fan portrayals through an aversion to touch or his senses getting overwhelmed, etc. In the show I noticed Leo actually has a consistent aversion to anything with a gross texture too: like in the first episode when they’re all sliding down Draxum’s vines and he’s tripping over himself, the only one bothered by them “I hate this!”

He also starts flailing in a panic after a worm jumps on his face (and do I even need to bring up how the texture of worms ain’t all that enjoyable let alone on your face), recoils when that evil Hidden City massage guy pours hair serum all over his head, and he’s the most visibly repulsed when Raph gets trash all over them in the beginning of Battle Nexus: New York. So on multiple occasions he comes off as pretty texture or germ averse as well

Both also have insecurity issues about their role to the team: “If mystics can do everything I can but better then why would you guys even need me?” “I’m nothing without them!”

Ironically, in Many Unhappy Returns, Splinter thinks Leo doesn’t know what he’s doing and isn’t taking the mission seriously, saying he should’ve brought Purple. But in the same episode during fights with Shredder Donnie’s seen texting on his phone half of the time. Which is also very parallel to Leo making quips in the beginning instead of helping fight like Donnie and the others

In that same fashion, Donnie’s also goofiest when everyone’s acting serious in Insane in the Mama Train, while Leo’s the unserious one in the following episodes. Another role reversal from their norm

The show also portrays these two as feeling the most affected by Splinter’s history of emotionally distant parenting. Donnie constantly talks about his unmet need for parent-aged-adult approval/validation, and Leo shows his struggle in a more Leo-like way, constantly finding father figure connections in other people like Jupiter Jim and The Dunk. He also rejects/roasts Splinter a lot too, which seems more like a form of overcompensation; acting like he doesn’t totally need or crave Splinter’s attention. The exact opposite of Donnie’s methods. “No! I’m not going back to what’s-his-rat.”

“He’s my all-time favorite actor/role model/father figure!”

“That eccentric billionaire, who was kind of a surrogate father figure to me, has shown me a version of myself I don’t like.”

Leo acts like he doesn’t pine for his affection. I’m sure he sees the way Donnie openly, desperately goes after it when it’s offered and then gets crushed even harder with disappointment (ahem Turtle-dega Nights). No way Leo’s opening himself up to that. I mean come on how sad is the moment when Splinter says they should do something together and Mikey is so eager to jump on the opportunity before it gets taken away, only for Donnie to have to pull him aside and remind him it’s usually some kind of trick or he’s likely possessed? Just for Mikey to immediately respond, “You’re right, I always fall for this!” Ouch. Honestly considering Mikey’s empathy and emotional maturity in mind, the reason both he and Raph seem to handle Splinter’s lack of attention so well is probably also because in addition Raph became a second parent himself, and taking on that role like Splinter, he knows from his own experience that even though their dad doesn’t show it in the ways they wish he would, of course he loves them and what he does do to take care of them as a parent proves that

I think the parallels and direct contrasts between how Leo and Donnie show their dissatisfaction in their relationship with Splinter is probably the most developed and interesting one to me 💔

I mean Leo’s the only one who would actually say something like this to Splinter and you can’t tell me there’s not some deep-seated resentment in the way he looks and the way he says it…

So yeah. There’s the sad edition of Disaster Twins parallels. Let’s all cry together 😃

#disaster twins #rottmnt disaster twins #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #leo and donnie #rottmnt character analysis #these poor boys

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radical-ghostface · 10 months

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Missing Time Pt.2

××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

Here it is yall, the very unexpectedly highly requested soft part 2 to this request i got.

How do you think Sebastian would react after getting released/escaping Azkaban and finding out MC was pregnant when he got sent away?

Warings: none. It's pretty fluffy.

Obvious implied Sebastian x MC

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It had been roughly a little over 2 weeks since Sebastian decided to try to be a part of his daughter, MC, and Ominis' little life. But he still couldn't muster to walk up the steps and knock on the door. He was scared they wouldn't want him. That they would be frightened of him. That they wouldn't forgive him for what he'd done.

So he took every fleeting moment possible to talk to his daughter in secret. He knew he should teach her better than to talk to strangers, but he wasn't just some stranger or old family friend. Of course, she didn't know that just yet.

He found himself afraid to tell her, terrified that she would be disappointed this was the father she had been waiting for her whole life. He felt unworthy. That she deserved better than him, despite how desperately he wanted to be that father for her.

So, instead of telling her the truth, he decided to just be her friend. Have little chats with her, still under the guise of being a 'family friend', which wasn't exactly a lie. He just didn't tell her he was technically a part of said family.

He knew how wrong that seemed, but this was his daughter. He had the right to get to know her, and he wasn't ready to insert himself into their lives completely. Not just yet.

Today was different from the rest. Today, little Anne found him while he was sitting at the edge of a dock near their home. It was just far enough away, so he didn't seem suspicious.

"Hey! Im so glad i found you!" She grinned, running up to him

He chuckled "found me?"

"Yes! I've been looking for you all over!" She beamed excitedly."I have something for you"

"What? For me?" He smiled at her softly

"Yeah, it's just a little something I made," she said timidly. "I really hope you like it"

Sebastian watched as she pulled a little ring out of her pocket. She smiled at it fondly and held it out to him. He took it from her with gentle hands.

Upon inspection, he saw that it was beautifully handcrafted with vines and branches. They all swirled around each other so intricately, so perfectly. He was astounded by how well it was made. She was already so talented, and his heart absolutely swelled.

"You.. made this? For me?" Tears pricked and the corners of his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. Not wanting to have to explain why this was making him so emotional.

"Well, I was out exploring, and I saw some pretty green branches, and for some reason, it made me think of you." she smiled at him warmly, "and then I had this idea to -"

"Anne?! Anne, where are you?"

Sebastian heard a familiar panicked voice cut their conversation short.

He completely froze. Not daring to move and inch as a wave of fear washed over him

"Anne Sallow, where did you run off to?!"

His heart skipped a beat, and he finally turned to look at the source of the voice. Anne Sallow. She gave her his last name.

"There you are! How many times have I told you not to -"

They finally noticed his presence, turning towards him with an unsure look. It was as if they were deciding whether or not it was actually him.

"Sebastian..?"

Sebastian took a moment to gather himself. Going over the words he'd practiced a million times in his head. But none of those words came out. All that did was a simple

"Hello, Ominis."

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

Taging some lovely people who asked for a part 2 and helped me come up with ideas ❤️ and a lovely creator who tagged me in their work earlier. Please go check out their stuff and support their page 😊

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

@bunnybabyfanpage

@krystal-kokoro

@hufflepuff-16

@froggyinaspen

@sammysgirl1997

@irishgirl2022

@hufflegruff

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mncxbe · 8 months

Note

Please Ignore this if you aren't taking requests rn, but I had an Idea, Like how would Fukuzawa, Oda, etc react if you would accidentally call them Dad? If you want you can add other characters by accidentally calling them brother or sister :3 (omg imagine Yosano)

Omg yes that's so good. Sorry it took so long to write this piece I'm currently a bit busy at work but I finally managed. I hope you like it♡

4:05

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝑶𝒅𝒂, 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐, 𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒐 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂

he is so so surprised when you accidently call him "dad"

oh boy he tries to keep it cool to keep up appearances, but as soon as he's alone he smiles so much

he's so happy that you see him like that

will remember your words for longer than you expected

A wave of fear washed over you when Dazai informed you that the president has just summoned you in his office. It wasn't like you did anything bad, yet you couldn't help but wonder why he wanted to see you.

"Mr. President?" you asked in a hushed voice as you stepped into his office with your head bowed. "You wanted to see me."

"Ah, Y/N, yes. Please take a seat" said the silver haired man as he motioned you towards a cushioned pillow on the ground. "Would you like some tea?"

You mumbled a small 'mhm' before sitting on the mat. "So why did you want to see me, sir? Did I do something?"

Your tried to hide your anxiety but the tone of your voice betrayed you. Fukuzawa lifted his gaze from the tea he was pouring, his ocean eyes narrowing at you.

"Why would you assume you did something wrong?" he inquired.

"Well..." you stuttered "You don't usually ask me to come to your office so I figured that I messed something up."

A heavy silence fell between the two of you; you could even hear your own racing heartbeat. But then Fukuzawa's lips curled into a gentle smile.

"Oh, Y/N. I just wanted to congratulate you for doing such a great job. Your work is invaluable to our organization and I wanted to personally thank you for your contribution."

The relief you felt upon hearing his praise could hardly be put into words; your lips stretched into a gleeful smile as you bowed your head.

"Thank you sir. I'm honoured to be a member of this agency and I really cannot express how happy I am that my hard work pays off, dad. I promise I won't disappoint you and-"

The look of surprise on Fukuzawa's face made you stop in dead in your tracks. What was wrong? You asked yourself as you went over your speech in your mind. And then you realized that you had just called him dad.

"Oh God I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think when I said that"

Fukuzawa's expression softened as he handed you your cup of tea; steam curling on its surface like grape vines.

"Don't worry about it" he said reassuringly "I don't mind it."

The two of you quietly sipped your sweet tea before he let you return to work. After you shut the door, Fukuzawa finally allowed himself to externalize the sheer amount of happiness he felt. There was nothing he loved more than being able to take care of the Agency's members, and the fact that you considered him a father figure was proof that he was doing a good job.

𝑶𝒅𝒂

he smiles so gently♡

if you get embarassed he pets your head and reassures you that it's alright

Oda's really proud of himself; from then on he always brings you curry at work

It was only eight months ago that the Port Mafia decided to recruit you as an assistant. Your job was pretty basic: compling reports for different missions and sorting paperwork but you loved it since it allowed you to meet almost all higher ups in the organization.

This is how you ended up getting acquainted with Oda. Although he was around seven years older than you, he was surprisingly high spirited and young at heart and unlike other members of the Mafia he was always kind to you. Oda would often swing by the dusty underground room that acted as your office and ask how you day was, bringing you snacks and tea.

After a few months his visits became something natural and at times, when you were absorbed in your work, you didn't fully acknowledge his presence.

"Hi, Y/N. How's your day going?" asked the brunette as he shut the wooden door, causing a cloud of dust to rise from the floor.

"Jesus" he coughed "You really need to clean this place one day"

"Yea, I know. I just cannot find a damn broom in this entire building. Oh and I'm good thanks for asking. What about you?" you replied, typing away on your laptop. The keys on the computer board clicked faintly as you quickly ran your digits over them.

Your comment made Oda chuckle lightly "Well, my day's fine too. I'm gonna go on a mission later but I wanted to bring you lunch first" he said as he placed a cardboard box on your desk.

"Oh, thanks dad" you babbled out, still not taking your eyes off of the glowing screen.

It was only when the man let out a hoarse laughter that you actually snapped out of your trance.

"Did you just call me dad?" he asked in a playful voice, causing your face to heat up.

"Uh... Did I? I guess I did" you said in attempt to play it off. "Do you mind it?"

"Of course not, Y/N. It's really nice to know that you see me as a father figure."

For a few seconds your gaze held his and you could see the joy sparkling in his eyes; he was giddy, like a kid in a candy store.

The wholesome moment was however abruptly interrupted by a blink; you had just received another e mail from your boss, asking you to go over some old documents from the archive.

"Uuh this work just never ends!" you cried out, throwing your hands in the air in a desperate gesture.

Oda only chuckled at your outburst, his smile widening. "Well then I'll leave you to it, but don't forget to eat something too"

"I won't. Thanks Oda and good luck on the mission"

The man lazily waved at you before stepping out of the room, a gentle smile making its way to his lips. She called me dad. He kept chanting those words to himself throughout the whole day, his heart swelling with unbounded pride and joy.

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐

sweet baby, he already knew that you saw him as a brother, but actually calling him that makes him smile so much

he pinches your cheeks till they're red, good luck getting rid of him now

as someone who never actually had a family until he met Fukuzawa, having someone else see him as an older brother is such an honour

from then on, Ranpo shares more of his sweets with you

You've been working at the Detective Agency for a couple of months now and Ranpo was your mentor. He had found you one day at a crime scene, hovering over the body with an inquisitive look on your face.

"Sirs, it may look like this man committed suicide but based on the angle the blade was tilted at I can rule it a homicide. There's no way he could've held the knife like that" you announced confidently as one of the police officers dragged you away from the corpse.

You were hectically swinging your arms and legs in attempt to free yourself. "I'm telling you, it wasn't suicide. You're jumping to conclusions."

"Shut up, brat" spat the vexed policeman as he showed you past the yellow tape that restricted the perimeter. "You better not cross the line again unless you wanna end up in jail. This is your last warning" he said before walking away from you.

You huffed in annoyance, turning on your heels when you suddenly bumped into the young detective.

"You're quite observant, young lady" he said in his usual jovial voice. "Tell me, how old are you?"

"Seventeen..." you mumbled, your eyes narrowing at him "And who are you?"

The young man chuckled as a wide smile made its way to his lips. "I'm Ranpo Edogawa, the world greatest detective. And you, miss, are in great luck. I want to rectruit you as my apprentice."

From then on you accompanied Ranpo to crime scenes and solved countless cases together, the friendship between you growing stronger by the day.

One Monday evening as you returned to the office from a crime site, you enthusiastically pulled Ranpo in for a hug.

"Thanks, nii-chan. This was my biggest case so far and I couldn't have solved it without you." you beamed.

For a brief moment the detective was awestruck; he was accustomed to your sudden affections, but it was the first time you've ever called him big bro.

As if sensing his bewilderment you quickly pulled away from him, a deep shade of pink tinting your cheeks as you fumbled for words.

"I'm sorry Ranpo I don't know why I said that."

The detective regained his composure, flashing you his signature smirk "Hey, hey don't worry, Y/N" he said gently as he caressed the crown of your head. "You can always count on your big bro. Let's go get some sweets now, ok? My treat."

You nodded eagerly and began walking towards the closest convenience store; Ranpo stood behind, his emerald eyes following your movements. A warm feeling, which was most likely a blend of love and pride, bloomed in his chest as he watched you open the glassy door of the shop.

"You coming?" you yelled at him in attempt to cover the sound of the incoming traffic and he quickly followed you. The door closed behind him with a thud as you entered the shop.

𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒐

she blushes so much but she's so happy

much like Ranpo she's deeply moved when she hears your words

expect her to take you on more shopping sprees

"Keep up, Y/N. We still have a few more shops to check out" said the woman with a wide grin on her face as she entered yet another store.

It was the beginning of summer and almost all boutiques had clothes on sale, which meant that your colleague ought to take you on one of her infamous shopping sprees. Since you only started your job only a few months ago, you couldn't afford most of the ellegant garments displayed in the shop windows, so you simply resolved to carrying around Yosano's bags.

"Naa girly wait for me" you whined as you struggled to balance the shiny box Yosano just handed you.

The woman, seemingly ignoring your complaints, walked to a nearby mannequin and scanned the dress it was wearing with narrowed eyes.

"Tell me, Y/N. Do you like this?" she asked in a contemplative voice.

You considered the dress for a moment before speaking; it was truly gorgeous, a black piece adorned with intricate purple and pink patters which looked like curls of smoke.

"It's very beautiful, Akiko. You'd look great in it."

Your friend sighed, her head dropping to the side as her violet eyes met yours "That wasn't the question, Y/N. I asked if you like it."

You were taken aback by her blunt words but quickly nodded, earning a smile from the woman.

"Good. Then try it on" she said, taking a clothes hanger from a nearby rack.

You didn't bother to hide your excitement as you rushed to the changing rooms and slipped into the dress; and it fit you like a glove, perfectly hugging all your curves. With excitement burning in your eyes, you stepped out of the dressing room.

"Soo what do you think?" you asked your friend, performing a twirl.

"Oyy you look so hot girl" she cheered "Wear this to the next event we go to and you'll sweep everyone off their feet."

"I highly doubt that" you giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Plus I can't afford it anyway"

"Nonsense! I'm buying it for you" announced the woman with a proud smile on her face.

"But I can't accept it, Aki. It's way too-"

Yosano cut you short with a swift motion of her hand "Then consider it a birthday gift. You're turning 20 next month right?"

An ecstatic smile made it's way to your lips as you hugged her. "Thanks, nee chan" you whispered, your arms snaking around her neck.

Upon hearing your words Yosano's face turned a light shade of pink but she wasted no time to slip her hands around your torso, pulling you closer to her. Happiness bubbled up inside her when she felt you giggle agaist her shoulder.

"Anytime, Y/N" she smiled back

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd headcanons #ranpo x reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo edogawa #yosano akiko #bsd yosano #yosano x reader #oda bsd #oda x reader #bungou stray dogs fukuzawa #fukuzawa x reader #bsd fukuzawa #bungou stray dogs ranpo

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bonefall · 6 months

Note

Golfy is literally one of my favorite cats of all time and I adore the way you’ve characterized her!! Any fun tidbits to share? I want to know more about the woman

There's a sketch of her floating around if you want to go on a treasure hunt! I don't have time to look for it right now (I am currently in the trunk of a clown car), but I've actually drawn a beta of her design and her big mane

Also note: BB!Goldenflower is part of the Doekin line. Speckletail's perception of herself and her family is tied strongly to being Doestar's niece. This association dies out with Thornclaw in BB!OotS as he's the last one to strongly value this legacy.

Golfy's mane is so poofy, unmanageabley poofy. She keeps it braided

Lionheart just surrendered to entrophy on that one lmao. "Dirt happens."

It's my little way of trying to show the difference between the siblings.

They're both proud and honorable, but Lionheart is more calm and patient. He's a Que Sera Sera kind of guy.

Goldenflower is more fond of the expression, "Fortune favors the prepared."

Note to self: Clanmewnize these expressions. Que Sera Sera is notably quite RiverClannish... Golfy's phrase is definitely from early ThunderClan

Not to get too distracted but I recently got this FANTASTIC idea for how to close out Book 3 of BB!DOTC on a bittersweet note, involving The First Boarhunt and Clear Sky being delightfully devious as always. Maybe it would be cool to put that phrase there... anyway.

She had three siblings total, Lionheart, Mistleclaw, and Snowkit. It's really difficult being the last one; family was extremely important to her.

Mistleclaw wasn't even a year out of apprenticeship; you're really considered an ADULT adult after being on your own for a year. Losing her was like losing a sibling who's college-aged. That was to the plague, before Firestar's arrival.

Smallear was openly the father of all four of them, but Goldenflower hesitates to call him Ba. Him and Speckletail had a really toxic on-again off-again thing.

Smallear was closest to Mistleclaw, who coincidentally looked the most like him. Goldenflower is like... "yeah thats what i expected of him, that fish-eared loser"

She's biased in favor of her mother though. Lionheart was more chill with Smallear; not CLOSE but, neutral-positive.

It wasn't entirely Smallear's fault that the relationship kept falling apart though, to be clear. I use toxic in this use very much on purpose, it wasn't abuse, they really cannot get along.

So when Goldenflower eventually picked a mate, she REALLY just wanted a stable lifepartner that would not be like that.

I would describe her relationship with Tigerclaw more in the terms of an "arrangement." Fishing for romantic information from her is VERY funny because she just like. Doesn't "get" romance.

Brambleclaw: "Mom... what did you... like about dad?"

"He was large, we were both very large. And he was a responsible warrior, respected and ambitious. Well... at the time we believed that. And he spoke with great confidence. He had a way of making you feel like you were both safe and powerful by his side."

It will not even click for her that most people don't open the answer to "why did you love x" with "he was tall like me"

(VINE BOOM AROACE FLAG)

She wanted kits and a partner. She doesn't regret the relationship, she regrets what he made her believe.

On Tigerclaw's end, it was mutual. They both liked each other as trusted Clanmates. He was attracted to her and reciprocated when she proposed a mateship, but I don't think he ever really got over Spottedleaf romantically.

Plus, getting into this family was a smart political move. Having Speckletail's approval was VERY useful.

I might stick Goldenflower as Head of Hunting through TNP to early Po3, until she trains a successor, since there's no rush. I have an allegiance list floating around but I can't remember off the top of my head if she's where she should be

She's actually super disappointed in Tawnypelt for her choice. I don't think they ever reconcile this, they're both too proud

So she's kinda iffy on that alliance with ShadowClan. Not to the point of spite, but she does easily believe stereotypes about them.

"A bunch of holdouts of TigerClan and duplicitous fiends over there."

Both Golfy and Tawnp miss each other a lot, but again. Neither one is going to apologize to the other or say the other was even slightly correct.

And Golfy wouldn't accept it if Tawnp even did. She made her choice. They're in different Clans now. She chose her father, who killed Swiftpaw and Lionheart.

And for that, Golfy will not forgive her.

If they ended up in a battle, neither would hold back. They both know this.

I'm really fond of her. She really is Speckletail's daughter and the whole family has a special flavor of pain and pride.

#BB!Goldenflower

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tellmeallaboutit · 15 days

Text

WIP WEDNESDAY

thank you @littleplasticrat for tagging me. I am sharing three WIPs and I am tagging @dodorimo @pouralaura @theemptyislost

WIP Nr. 1 (Raphael x Tav), tale madre tale figlia

"Is this the gentleman?" Celeste inquired, her eyes narrowing as she studied Raphael from a distance.

He was standing by the garden pavilion under the canopy of vines, enjoying a chilled glass of limoncello. Classically handsome, almost mundanely so, with the grin of a man all too pleased with himself. Erik, her husband, stood across from him, looking much less at ease.

"Less disappointed in me now, mama?" asked Judith, scoffing slightly.

"Could have been worse," Celeste replied. "Could have been better if you'd done things the right way and had a proper wedding. How old is he?"

Judith thought for a moment, trying to come up with a passable answer.

"Forty-five, I think," Judith finally offered.

"The same age your father would have been," Celeste said, half reproachful, half imagining this man as her own husband. "Looks older. Southerner?"

Judith answered each question with a slight delay.

"South of Thar."

"Old money?" Celeste's question sounded more like a statement.

"Ancient money," Judith answered.

WIP Nr. 2 (Rugan x OC), trouble at the disco (NSFW)

“You know the type you seem to be, princess?”, Rugan asked. “A spoiled brat in need of a good spanking.”

"Oh?" she replied. "And you think you're the man to give me one?"

Her slightly elvish eyes raked over him in a thorough appraisal. She hoped he would be the man to give her one.

"With that very leather belt you're eyeing up," Rugan said. "Until that pampered arse of yours is cherry red."

Margaret's breath caught in anticipation and Rugan could feel his cock stiffen at the prospect. He could almost see her imagining the sting of each blow.

"What a brute," she murmured, not without a dash of admiration.

"Somebody should teach you some respect," he growled, his hand sliding up her thigh. "Alas, I suspect the moment I pull down your frilly knickers you'll be screaming for the guards. One thing this life taught me: some risks are just not worth taking."

He reclined in his chair and exhaled deeply.

“So, sorry, lass. Try your luck elsewhere.”

WIP Nr. 3 (Gale x Tav), the Riv'vil

The human male was evidently as dense as a dwarven door.

She had made herself abundantly clear, and yet the riv’vil stood, in his wizard robes, absent-mindedly petting his chin, and said:

“Charmed. Name is Gale of Waterdeep”.

It's no wonder human males are notorious for being slow. Gathering the shreds of her patience, she attempted once more:

“I am Yvonne Barrison Del'Armgo, the first daughter of House Barrison Del'Armgo”, she said, hoisting her foot onto a boulder and thrusting forward her boot, which was splattered with the viscera of her venture on the nautiloid and needed immediate cleaning.

Even the sun-dweller should know what being the first daughter of that house meant. It meant he should drop to his knees and prostrate at her feet immediately.

The male didn't blink an eye. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed:

“You are permitted to kiss my boot, sun-dweller”.

#bg3 #fanfic #baldur’s gate 3 #raphael x tav #rugan x tav #gale x tav #my writing

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matchadobo · 1 year

Text

KIDD; beauty & the beast

wc: 10754 summary: a beauty & the beast inspired story where kidd is the beast and reader is the beauty. featuring killer, law, and luffy. tw: this is my first time writing a fully fleshed out fantasy story sO PROCEED WITH CAUTION, monster au, suggestive themes but no actual seggs, fem reader, if i miss any errors im sorrrryyyyy

in the quaint village, a seemingly quiet town busy to each their own. the arch that welcomes the entrance of the city has ambrosial vines snaking up to each side of its pillars up to its voussoir and keystones that had the townsmark engraved in it. a fountain welcoming each soul that enters the village was riddled with swans, birds, and vociferous children chasing each other.

a vast cobbled path with shops of varied provisions: empty antique bookstores, butcher shops with burly men, bakeries jam packed with patrons, and flower shops filled with gentlemen and swooning ladies. a town as old as time where everyone knows each other. and everyone knows you as that one eccentric lady who always got her face sunk in books and hasn't got herself a man yet.

you had just finished buying a book that you've got your eye on. a leather-covered, raven book with gold linings in the spine. you hugged the piece tight to your chest as a joyous smile decorated your face. you opened the book excitedly, relishing the scent of newly pressed paper wafted into your nostrils. your eyes sparkled in delight when your eyes skimmed across the tiny letters of the paper, breezing through the pages as you fully immersed into the fictional world. yes, it has been your solace. your imagination could run miles upon miles across the globe, galaxy, and all existence. the beauty of each tale you got lost on, wandering around the dazzling dream fiction has to offer.

more than anything, books have shaped you as a person. a knowledgeable woman, unlike the ladies who'd dumb themselves down to be someone's bride. a visionary, unlike the people that surround you and your scientist father, you have the initiative for change and have the intellect to do so. a refined lady, wanting a man because of your standards, not just because they're a man. you want to be courted, treasured, and loved by a man who is willing to stoop himself down to treat you just how you deserve it.

"weird lady,"

"'s why she doesn't have any man yet. pft i mean, who wants a woman who reads?!"

"she should be bearing a child right now."

mocks, jeers, and insults. the all too familiar strings of slurs which you've grown to hate and ignore. you sauntered across the stone-carved path of the town while hearing those remarks. you huffed a disappointed sigh and carried onto your way home.

"i'm home! i brought the tools you were asking, papa!" you called out, shutting the door by your feet and putting your basket full of goods and hand tools on the wooden table draped in checkered red and white cloth.

your father welcomed you to a tight hug, an ear to ear grin when he saw the hand tools. "this is perfect, thank you dear! i can now carry on to my journey to showcase my experiment!" he placed a kiss on your forehead before grabbing the tools you brought to his satchel.

"always be careful, papa!" you farewelled, helping him up by the horse. you also bid the stallion goodbye, patting it lightly by its head. you sent them off and carried onto your day.

a couple of days had passed yet no signs of your father coming back, it was one drowsy morning when you heard philippe come back with a neigh of distress, only to find out that it was only philippe who had returned and your father missing. you surmised that the stallion was sending a message with the muddle of neighs and frantic movements so you opted to ride onto where he was pointing to after grabbing your coat and draping it on your head down to your body.

soon enough the agitated, cinnamon-colored clydesdale hesitated to enter the black forest. an eerie and desolate forest barren of trees and vegetation that had bright yellow eyes lurking, unbeknownst to you what creature it belonged to. the breeze of the frigid wind sent a chill down your spine. sharp, gnarled branches of the tree lured you into its peril as you slowly entered the forest. ignoring the hearsays that uttered horrors of not returning and the forest itself leading you astray and towards your demise, you ventured in full speed with too much desperation of getting to your father before it's too late.

not too long after your chilling journey, you stumbled across a gothic castle with bats and crows settled on the peak of each pillar. the sky remained gloomy, and brought thunderous clouds despite the sunny weather back in your village. the castle was grim; pointy gargoyles were accentuating each apex of the roofs, its raven colored stones that make up the most of the building had numerous cracks from its age, ghastly branches and vines of withering plants almost blocked the flying buttresses and the pointy, arched iron gate you were facing. what surprised you and perked your eyebrow was the garden of tulips spread across the vast yard that was beside the cobbled path where the front of the house led to.

it piqued your curiosity, the contrast of the tulips and the arid aura of the place drew you even more to its mystery. that's why you couldn't help yourself but enter, despite the danger awaiting you. crows flew across the field at your arrival, you shielded yourself in return but they went over your head, the gust of wind raising goosebumps across your skin. you mused at the beautiful batch of flowers, well-tended, yet seem to be missing a few. there you saw in the middle of the grass, your father's hat. you immediately thought that maybe, your father got stuck here. so you rushed into the castle without thinking of the possible consequences.

you knocked at the double wooden doors with the labyrinth knockers settled on each knob just above your head, desperately calling for someone. no one answered and the silence killed you. so you pushed through the towering doors, using all your weight to enter the castle. the sound of the door creaking open echoed throughout who knows where, because goodness was the castle vast. it was phenomenally dark, it scared you. tall ceilings and wide rooms. a red, velvet carpet spanning across the checkered porcelain floors. countless mirrors lined with golden, intricate details decorating the walls. lofty stairs with delineated golden railings. broken yet glimmering chandeliers. colossal paintings of individuals poshly dressed in layers of clothing and heavily styled hair that curled in ways you could never imagine, yet each painting was harrowed by scratches on each portion where it seemed to be a place where a prince stood. you tilted your head in confusion and curiosity.

swoosh!

you could've sworn seeing a shadow in one of the balconies in your peripherals, so you sharply turned your head to that direction. yet there was nothing but a gust of wind.

you swallowed a huge lump in your throat, mustering up all the courage you had in you. you grabbed the candelabrum settled at the cabinet near the front door to have some light as you venture deeper in the castle, calling out to your father. your voice echoed.

you heard incessant whistles by your side. you turned your head and saw a man in one of the elongated mirrors, smiling and waving at you.

"oi, you seem to be lost." he giggled, getting a good look at you. "are you the one finally for our master?" you tilted your head in confusion as you mused at the man inside the mirror. he was wearing a red suit with a black button up and a frilly, pink tie. he had round eyes and a tiny scar below the left one. but what's most remarkable in him was the straw hat resting on his disheveled, raven locks.

"a word of advice, leave at once. and straw hat-ya, stop humoring her." another voice spoke across from you, another ominous mirror mounted in one of the pillars beside the stairs. "we shouldn't impose on our master, he'll get his love when he demands it." he had this composed aura, more earnest than the other one. dark, baggy eyes, arms adorned with ink of varied designs, yellow three-fourths button up perfectly hugging his lean torso, he had a goatee and prominent sideburns, and he also had a white, black-spotted northern-style fur hat.

"aaaw, you're no fun torao! don't you want to finally get out of these mirrors?! we haven't gotten on that date i asked you years ago!" the red one whined, jumping in his place with a pout on his face. you could see the other one, pulling his hat down in embarrassment as he stayed quiet.

you on the other hand, couldn't muster up anything to say. completely trying to piece out whatever the fuck is unfolding in front of you. men flirting in mirrors are certainly not what you expected in this castle! in the silence of your overwrought, another voice emerged from the corner of the castle from what seemed to be a kitchen.

"but we have a deadline, don't we? it's steadily approaching." he calmly uttered as his features got illuminated , wiping his hands with a towel. the only normal you’ve seen in the flesh so far. his noticeably blonde hair was voluminous and almost masked the left side of his sculpted face, blue eyes glowing in the poorly lit manor, his charming face contrasting his burly build clad by a stygian three-piece suit. "allow me to introduce myself. address me as killer, the butler of this castle. that red one is luffy and the one wearing yellow is law. please, follow me to your qua-"

"no!" you immediately refused, suddenly all eyes of the three gentlemen were on you. "i-i'm sorry but, i came here to find my father...! i think he's in danger. can you please take me to where he is?" you desperately interjected, hopeful tone as you pleaded through your eyes.

"i told all of you, she'll come looking for him in an instant. forget the matchmaking." the earnest guy scoffed. you could see the butler sighing but he returned to you with a smile, gesturing for you to follow him.

as you reached the basement where a dungeon appears to be, you could hear the meek coughs of your father from the corner cubicle. you hurriedly rushed to where he was. he was shivering. you touched his cold fingers from the small window of the cell, trying to warm them up as tears streamed down your face. "n-name! you should run! you're not safe here! hurry, before he comes!"

"i won't go, papa! not without you! are you hurt? you shouldn't stay here, you must be starving. but wait...before who comes?"

in a blink of an eye, you were met with a towering creature as thunder erupted. he was much, much bigger than you, bigger than anything you have ever encountered. he was covered in a red, fur hooded cape; dimming most of his features, a crimson, satin scarf mask covering his lower face and only showing his gleaming, golden eyes, his toned torso bare; the cape shielding the sides of his upper body, his pants were incongruously varied sizes of yellow dots with a black base, and his boots that reached his calves made him even more taller. looming over you, his aura filled with hostility. it's as if he's ready to kill you.

he reeks of blood. his anonymity, the darkness, and his prodigious size terrified you to an extent that hazed your mind. the glint of his haughty gaze, how he looks at you as something so measly that could be destroyed eventually with little to no effort. he can crush you under him, spill your brain matter in mere seconds. you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. you wanted to run. scream. just fucking get away from your inevitable passing.

“you have the damn gall to enter my castle?! who do you fuckin' think you are?! " he furiously roared. bellowing across the layers of stone carved walls, the glass of the lanterns mounted on the wall cracking at the reverberations of his growl. you stood there, frozen from the fear rushing through you. your hands felt numb. your knees were jelly. the soles of your feet digging by the hard, cobbled floor. you looked up at him teary eyed.

his bellowing came to a stop when he met your glassy eyes, you didn't miss the hint of hesitation in his eyes. he soon rolled his eyes and avoided your gaze, scoffing. "i'll have you know that the man you call father's been acting foul, woman."

"w-what?"

"your father took tulips from the garden, our garden. without permission." killer retorted, leaning by the pillars of the jail cell. "the tulip garden is a very important asset to our master. even if permission was asked, our master would be downright enraged."

"damn right. to say the least, i was merciful enough to just detain him." he snarked, kicking the door of your father's cell and laughing to see him flinch. you glared at the towering man, almost punching him if you could just reach him. "tch, entitled humans."

"for flowers?! you detained him for picking flowers?! that's absurd!" you fumed, brows furrowed in indignance. you leaned slightly towards him, boiling in anger.

"insolent fuckin' lass!" he bellowed once more, leaning down at you. you leaned back yet he was still so close you could smell him. you got a good look at his eyes, it's almost as if fires were dancing on the yellows of his eyes. you could see him seething in anger at the mild translucence of his mask, you inhaled his musky scent that mixed with the aroma of freshly laundered garments. "know your place." he ordered, guttural voice rumbling from his chest.

you shivered at the proximity, stiff beneath his gaze once more. killer stepped in and put a hand on his master's chest. "please! leave her be! she's my daughter!"

"quiet! i'll have your head by midnight!" he barked, your father shivering in cold fear. you stepped in amidst the shaking of your hands, instinctively protecting your father.

"no! s-stay away! please!" you defensively stood at the space between the creature and the door of your father's cell. "whatever it is you're planning to do to him, d-do it to me...! i'll be your prisoner!"

each man in the dungeon, including your father, had their eyes staring daggers of horror at you. "no, name! please don't!" your father pleaded, tears streaming down his place.

"fine by me!" the creature responded, whirling his cape as he stormed out. "killer, take this man to the carriage and send him to their distasteful village. as for the woman, throw her in jail! she's my prisoner." and with that the door shut.

it was a tear-filled goodbye. killer had a difficult time prying your father off of you as he was ignoring the pleads you two are giving. and all of it happened in a blur; now, you're crying in the same cell your father was in earlier.

"oi." luffy called out to killer, preparing the dinner at the kitchen. ignored.

"oi~" no response.

"OII!!!"

"what is it, luffy?" killer returned to the boy in the mirror beside him, voice calmly pissed. his sleeves rolled up as he doused the tarte in brandy and flambéd the dough. it's the appetizer for this evening.

"aren't we gonna matchmake master and that pretty girl?" he pouted, examining and drooling at the tarte he was making.

"we could but, master's furious right now." he tsked lightly, turning the stove off. "mind doing some...interventions?"

luffy immediately knew what he was talking about and traveled through the master's quarters, after forcing law to come with him of course.

the beast was pacing in his quarters, dour and grubby. curtains lopsidedly hanging on each window, disheveled by multiple scratches. the mattress had its stuffing rumpled and taken out angrily. furnitures broken and dilapidated, thrown across the room. carpet ruggedly clawed. the only light source in the room was a glowing, red tulip encased in a cylindrical glass. its petals slowly falling over time.

"master!"

"what the fuck is it?"

"torao has a suggestion!"

"w-what?! i-i don't even kno-!" law smacked the smaller lad, the hint of panic at his shaky voice sent luffy snickering. law cleared his throat and uttered, "well. you seem to be perturbed, master. mind lending me an ear to help you feel better?"

"what idiocy are you two up to again?" he scornfully answered, snarling in his seat at the presence of two fellows in the mirror.

"quite the contrary, my lord. it has something to do with...the guest down at the dungeon." his little pause caused the beast to turn his full attention to the two, luffy hiding behind law at the beast's sudden action.

"what about that damn woman?!"

"she might be the cure to your curse, our curse." law started, earnestly holding the beast's gaze. "we have a great inkling that she will get rid of your bane." the doctor's tone was careful and solemn as he studied the beast's expression, gradually considering his proposition.

after a few moments of silence, the beast huffed a deep breath. "fine. then what do you propose i do with her?"

"a dinner would be nice!" luffy butted in, a bright smile on his face as he emerged from behind law's back.

"dinner?" the beast asked, puzzled at his suggestion. it has been so long since he shared a meal with someone.

"yes! it's the first step for every date nowadays." luffy rubbed his chin, trying to think back when he peeked at the newspapers killer brought in a few days ago.

"but i presume giving her a room first would soothe this volatile situation, yes?" law urged.

the beast thought to himself for a moment before finally making up his mind and rushing down to the dungeon. he found you cooped up in the corner as you hugged your knees, biting your lips to try and stop yourself from crying.

"oi, woman!" he slammed the prison cell open. you flinched at his arrival, nothing but terror mirrored your eyes.

"i know you're brash as fuck but this is your soon to be bride. being more gentle is the wisest option, jesus christ." law shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. the beast looked a little embarrassed but maintained his brazen front.

"w-what is it now" you shakily asked, trying to be brave despite your prickling skin.

"...follow me." he turned around, expecting for you to follow him. yet you don't find it in you to stand up and obey this monster. your life was taken away!

"why should i follow you?" you daringly asked, pulling yourself up from the cold, stone floor.

"i'll show you to your room, stop being a fucking pain in the neck before i change my mind." he snarked, looking at you over his shoulder. his aureated orbs flickering, perilously drawing you into him.

"i wouldn't expect manners to come from you but goddamn you are ill-bred." you bit back and he swiftly turned around, bending to your height as he got dangerously close. your heart galloping in your chest.

"irreverence won't help your situation, brat." you felt cold at the gravel of his voice, reaching the back of your throat. you almost choked at the ominous ambience he gave with his words but instead looked away and cleared your throat.

"g-get it over with then." you looked away, looking at him would suffocate you more.

you followed his tall figure, still not getting a good look at him. all you remember from his physical features was his toned torso, snowy skin, piercing golden eyes, and harrowing, gruff voice that never fails to make your heart race from unease.

"stop boring holes at the back of my head, little mouse. i won't go anywhere." he cheekily teased, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"stop your presumptuous thoughts, beast. as much as i would love to bore actual holes in your fucking boneheaded skull, a lady needs her beauty sleep." snarking, you crossed your arms and blew an air of irritation.

the beast found himself chuckling as he sauntered through the gothic concourse of his manor. "your derision is daring, perhaps you're not aware of your situation."

"i am. i'm just not scared of you." a lie. you're shivering. the tips of your fingers are cold. your mouth was dry. your knuckles were white, uncertain from anger or from fear. you are shaking. it shocked you how bold you are right now.

the beast stopped walking and the sudden urge to flee came to you but you couldn't move. even if he was glaring at you over his shoulder, sharp eyes digging into your soul. he scoffed after continuing his steps, "arrogant woman."

you opted to wisely shut the fuck up before you push yourself further to your demise. not too long after the suffocating silence, you have reached a tall, ivory door accentuated with golden roses.

"there." he stepped aside, letting you enter. you stand before the door of your room. "don't get too lost in there, it's quite vast."

you twisted the knob in your sweaty palms and was met by an enchanting quarter. it seemed like it did not belong to the castle, it looked too serene.

milky walls generously embellished by medieval ornaments and paintings. high ceilings with exquisite glass chandeliers. a wide traditional canopy bed with upholstered headboards in ashen. a three-mirrored, mahogany vanity lateral to the bed. an arched, bay window at the far side of the room where snowy pillows settled and velvet curtains shielding the sun. it had somehow lulled you to sleep.

"once you're finished gawking, get ready for dinner. i'd like a date who doesn't smell like grime and shit." he stifled a laugh, walking past you.

your cheeks flushed, heart seemingly to fall out of your ass. you tried smelling yourself and goodness how you reek of hell. "h-hey, i didn't agree for a d-date?!"

"you are now." his deep voice echoed in the wide halls of the manor as his figure disappeared in the shadows.

you sighed as you thought to yourself, what did i get myself into?! men speaking to you in mirrors, you were his prisoner earlier and now you're his dinner date?! what's next? are the appliances gonna move now?!

you almost shat yourself when the closet opened on its own, laying out all the clothes it had in its compartments. the vanity cabinets also sprung open, the variety of cosmetics sprawling out one by one on the desk. the bathroom door opening and the bath started running on its own. you were starting to think you were going off your fucking rocker until luffy spoke in the mirror.

"before you start crying, this is an enchanted palace." he said with both of his hands up, as if trying to stop the tears looming in your eyes.

"i-it's not haunted?"

"in a way," law intruded, clearing his throat. "you'll know more about it when the master intends to disclose it to you." his tone was stern, it's as if he hadn't smiled in years. "for now, it'd be best to heed to his requests. the amenities in your quarters are doing the work for you. the least you could do is follow through."

"it's ludicrous that you lot think that i will easily agree to the farce you have set up. hah, i mean, how arrogant can you all be?!" you almost threw a fit, furious at the doctor inside the mirror. "unlike you servants, i don't follow that beast! i'd never! i volunteered to be a prisoner because of my father, not because i want to be his date or some other bullshit you lot imposed on me, fucking hell! i refuse to go out!" you crossed your arms, angrily sitting on your flocculent sheets.

"perhaps we might've gone too far and lacked briefing, my lady." a suave voice emanated from the balcony outside, the brawny man in a suit making his way to stand before you at a decent distance. "our master needs a bride quite badly and you appear to be a perfect candidate at a perfect time. the master has a...distinctive way of showing his affinity to particular things but i assure you, you are special to him. i mean, why else will he willingly give a mere prisoner a room himself and invite this prisoner to dinner if he wasn't keen on pursuing her?"

"why make me a prisoner in the first place?" you scoffed, leaning back in your arms and rolling your eyes. "your master's a brat."

"a brat?! she called me a fucking brat?! i'm gonna fucking kill he-"

"sure, kill the only way to save all of us in this damned castle." law blatantly retorted, his words returning all sense in the beast's head.

"i reckon that the situation is incorrigible. she refuses to get in the bath nor even look at some clothes. she's quite stubborn, much like you unfortunately." killer stifled a laughter, fixing his coat afterwards to politely brush off the informality. the beast threw him a glare so deadly common folks could shrivel up and die.

"she doesn't eat then. dinner with me or no dinner at all." he sulked, snarling once more in displeasure.

"pigheaded prince." law mumbled to himself, transferring to another mirror on a different room.

as the grandfather clock chimed across the echoey walls of the palace, the dead of the night came. your stomach was growling and you are longing for food, but boy was your pride strong.

"you and the master are stressing me out, how far do your prides go?! just fucking eat, woman!" law fumed from the vanity mirror as he looked at you in disgust.

"i don't want to see your dishonorable master." you plainly responded, still sulking. "but i can't help my stomach." and there came another growl of hunger.

after careful pacing and overthinking, you opted to make your way down the dining hall and looked for something to eat. in the far side of the room, a light was shining. a silhouette of a tall, broad build was looming at the kitchen illuminated by the fire of the stove.

"apologies for keeping you, here's your dinner." killer welcomed, setting down a bowl with a beef stew. you thanked him, giving the beautiful man a smile after digging in.

"you said you refused to go out, did you not?" that ominous and familiar aura sent the hairs on your neck standing, it was near to where the voice was. "funny to see you enjoying yourself here, aye?"

the spoon shook with the shivering of your hand. it's him again. "unless you'd want me dead, i'd stay there gladly. but it seems that you badly need me, as stated by your butler." you cockily retorted, munching on your food to swallow all the fear away.

"that spunk in you. wherever the fuck do you get courage to snark at me like that?" he slammed his hand on the space beside your tableware, the objects jumping at his force.

"from something called, a mind of my own. something you appear to have none of." you answered, trying your best to maintain this nonchalant front you have. while deep inside, you have nothing but foreboding anxiety.

he laughed to himself, bellowing across the vast dining hall. "you interest me, dollface."

"i'm glad you find me annoying."

"quite the opposite." he sat on the seat across from you, not too far. "i find you amusing. a mere woman, snide enough to keep a conversation with me. you're one of a kind, huh? tell me your name."

"it's a two way street, big guy. i'll tell you mine, you tell me yours." you finally looked at him, setting aside the cutlery and holding his gaze. his eyes were so hypnotic, the swirls of his buttery orbs grew more prominent each time you see him. he contemplated for a while before taking his hood off.

his thick and bouncy curls resembling flames sprung up at his gesture. he then combed through it with his fingers, pointy nails coated in dark crimson. chunky, curling ram horns were mounted on each side of the crown of his head. he looked devilish and ghastly; you grew more scared and more riveted. a prominent scar on his left eye that appears to be extending down somewhere, you couldn’t see since the mask obstructed his visage. "eustass kidd. the twenty-first generation prince of the eustass monarch." despite his gruff tone, his words managed to smoothly reach you. shit, he's pretty. you almost gawked seeing more parts of him but you restrained yourself.

"name. full name." you returned. "i have to say, for a prince like you, your vulgarity is unexpectedly natural." you went back to your meal, hearing a scoff from him.

"for a lowly townsfolk like you, you've got some damn nerve insulting me like that." you fell silent, his cavernous voice never fails to make the hairs on your back stand. "tell me little mouse, how are you not scared of me?"

"you're no different from the fools in my village." your response was blunt, eating a mouthful of the stew in indignance. "arrogant, selfish motherfuckers."

he clicked his tongue, anger starting to boil. he almost mauled you off of your seat but stopped when he saw a piece of food stuck in your cheek, snickering to himself when he knew how hungry you were.

"you have shit on your face." he blurted out, pointing at you. you stuck your tongue out, trying to reach over at where he was pointing at but with how he was laughing at you, you thought he was fucking with you.

"whatever game you're playing, i'm not having it you stupid prince."

"oi, you're the stupid one. you really do have shit on your face, dumbass." he insisted. "here let me-" he reached over, you felt his sharp, dark-tinted nails prick lightly on your skin as he scooped the piece of food on your cheek. you got a good look at his scarlet tousled locks and its contrast on his white, porcelain skin. his chest and biceps gravely close to you. you almost recoiled but with the difference of his whetted nails and his velvety touch, you were uncharacteristically undaunted and drawn to it. so much so that it brought heat rushing in your cheeks and your heart hammering to your chest you could hear it going crazy.

what the fuck is going on with you?! why are you flustered?! you berated yourself. you sucked in a deep breath and downed the tall glass of water, swiftly excusing yourself and bolting to your room. man, you need to get some serious talk with yourself.

kidd plopped down his wingback chair, bitter at your departure. "why the fuck did she leave?!" he snarled at his servants, as if they could calm him down.

"i can't deal with this dumbass." law had his head in his hands, agonizing over the moronic prince's thought process.

"you did a good job, master." killer spoke from the kitchen, wiping the golden wares and storing them in the cabinets. "i presume she's hiding in her room to suppress her budding feelings for you."

"whatever the fuck do you mean?"

"she was blushing, my lord." the blond insinuated, finally looking at the prince who immediately flushed at his remark. a gratifying smile on the butler's lips at his master's realization. "the proximity between the two of you may have gotten to her. her frantic behavior is enough evidence for it."

you on the other hand felt like you were going to faint. you had your back pressed against the door as you had both of your hands at the sides of your face, trying to cool your burning cheeks and collect yourself. your fuzzy mind going places it shouldn't be. he just took food off your face, stop being thirsty! he's a beast for fuck's sake!

you've decided to sleep it off before it gets worse.

once morning came, you were awoken by the bright light outside and a gentle voice jolting you awake. "name, name. wake up, your breakfast is waiting for you."

"what?" you groggily responded, still trying to stomach the fact that you just awoken at the castle of a beast.

"a bath and a new set of clothes has been prepared for you as well, you may choose among the garments; whichever fancies you. i'd rather not hurry you but, the food master left for you might run cold." he said, turning off the faucet of the tub and pointing to the hanged clothes at the rack as he spoke.

you made your way to the dining hall and reveled on the aroma of pancakes, strawberry purée, and brewed coffee. you quickly feasted on the scrumptious food prepared just for you.

too consumed in eating, you didn't notice kidd watching you at the balcony from the second floor, an unseen smile in his lips at the sight of you happily stuffing yourself.

"falling already?" kidd almost jumped at his butler's voice, almost cursing him out the castle.

"shut the fuck up."

"why don't you join her, my lord? staring would only make you want for more." the blond teased, inducing the light tint in the prince's cheeks.

killer had been kidd's butler ever since the prince could remember. killer's family have been the butler of the eustass monarch for ten successive years, their families have been deep-rooted and became friends rather than master-servant. when kidd was a little boy, killer and he would always play by the yard and would spend most of the afternoon together doing whatever little boys do. up until kidd reached his adolescence, killer was his servant and confidante. even until the curse was cast upon the prince, the two remained close friends. fortunately, killer wasn’t present when the curse was brought upon the castle since he ran some deliveries but bearing the sight of his family, including the servants and the prince himself, being anathematized; he suffered the same loneliness as them.

“tell her to meet me at the garden afterwards, refusal is not an option.” he ordered, making his way to his quarters.

“what folly does that prince want?” you raised a brow.

“he didn’t mention anything else other than that, my lady. although i have a hunch that what awaits you is something special.” he smiled, picking up your used wares.

you pondered and gazed over the garden. it does look pretty. what could possibly go wrong in the garden? it wouldn’t hurt to explore a little, right? as much as you don’t want anything to do with that beast, your curiosity at his peculiarity and mystery weighed more than your rationality. as someone who is imaginative, your affinity to books has honed this attitude of yours; sometimes benefiting you and often not. and so you listened to your heart rather than your head, such a rare occurrence.

as you pushed through the arched, glass double doors, you were met with the sun blinding you. you covered the top of your vision with your hand to take in the sight before you. you felt the damp soil under the soles of your sandals. the whistling of birds, skittering squirrels, and fluttering of butterflies across the viridescent bushes as they appear to be greeting you. the breeze of the wind rustled the leaves, soon blowing through your hair and soothing you. you inhaled the aroma of the pleasant tang of tulips, hydrangeas, sunflowers, camellias, amaryllises, and berries. and at the far side of the garden you saw that all-knowing, fiery, currant hair, your heart hitching at the sight. you almost drummed your chest to calm it down but took a deep breath instead.

you sauntered across the dense fields of grass towards the gazebo where he was standing tall and gazing at the river. “saw anything you like?” he started, turning to you as you reached him. you somehow got lost in his eyes once more, the clarity of his features in the sun intoxicating you.

“t-the tulips were…cute.” you rubbed your arms, avoiding his gaze.

“what’s wrong?” he furrowed his brows, leaning down at you to try and get a view of your expression. “saw anything you hate?”

“other than you, no.” you mumbled under your breath, turning your back to him to try and get away from his stifling presence.

kidd chuckled. there she is. he thought to himself. “tell you what, little mouse.” he leaned down closer to your ear, resting a hand on your shoulder. “i don’t normally do this but, pick whatever you like, it’s gonna be all yours.”

he was so close you thought he heard how fast your heartbeat thundered. you quickly pulled back, walking backwards to the field of tulips as you waved at him. she really does get flustered at the closeness. he mumbled grinning, pleased at himself.

he watched you as you strolled across his garden, heading straight for the pink tulips. you bent down to their height, smiling to yourself as you plucked out a handful. you take in delight the blossomy aroma of the garden and the pleasant singing of the birds surrounding you. what a sight to behold. how his heart won’t stop fluttering at the sight of you dear god. how peaceful you are, how he never seem to feel serenity before you arrived. never in his life, has he witnessed someone so delicate, so divine, and so feisty enough to measure up to his own pugnacious self. he’s pissed off at you, yes. at how daring you are and how sharp your insults are. yet he can’t get enough of it. the fire that doesn’t seem to falter even if he daunts you. he finds it annoyingly attractive.

“he’s completely under her spell, don’t you two think?” killer muttered to the two lads in the mirror.

“he’s whipped as fuck if you ask me.”

“oi that’s how i look at you, torao.” luffy blurted out. the older lad intensely blushing and hitting the smaller at the remark.

“tulips, huh?” he abruptly spoke behind you. you almost jumped at his presence.

“yeah. they’re rather exquisite.” you smiled at the bouquet of tulips clutched close to your chest. “a unique one out of the bunch.” you mused at the widespread flowers at the yard.

“it means perfect and deep love in the language of flowers.” you continued. “it dates back to when two lovers fell in love and met a tragic end. much like romeo and juliet but… juliet actually died; driving the other one mad, he killed himself and the tulips grew where his blood was spilled.”

“s-sorry, that was witless. i-i just read about stupid shit like this a lot, i’ll shut u-”

“fuck no.” he interrupted. “go on with that thing you call stupidity then, i want to hear more.”

a shaky smile on your face starts to widen once his words had sunk in. you giggled, carrying on a tangent about flowers, its legends, and etymologies. while he sat down on the lawn with you, listening and remarking from time to time. admiring the way your eyes beam with genuine happiness and how you never ran out of things to say.

“ten years? you’ve been isolated for a whole fucking decade?!”

“damn right, no contact from the outside. drove me crazy for a while, but it grew on me. i wore insanity as a fuckin’ cape.” he laughed to himself, seemingly proud for reaching this far.

“how’d you last this long?”

“i’ll… show you somewhere.” he had hesitation in him but it was clear that he was eager to show wherever it is he wants to show you.

he took you to a place, not far from the garden. it was a little shack, quite dilapidated. built of planks as its walls and cobblestones as its roof. he entered first before opening the door for you. and you have to say, each time you enter a room in this castle, you are enchanted.

you couldn’t help but be enamored at the trinkets that filled the shelves that was mounted on the walls of the vast shack. they were all intricately done, meticulously built with torques, bolts, and metal scraps of varying sizes. a range of sculptures of animals, mythical creatures, abstract designs, body parts, and the like. a big, wooden workbench settled at the far side of the room where different knicknacks reside messily.

“done gawking?” he nervously laughed. “you don’t have to fucking like it, i know it’s not that mu-”

“shut up, kidd! this is breathtaking!” you clasped both of your hands together before your mouth. “the amount of patience, the creativity, the time it took, h-how did you…”

“y-you shut up.” he looked away, thankful for his mask which covered the flushing of his cheeks.

“can i touch them?”

“can i hold them?”

“can i keep one?”

you were giddy and he found it adorable. he doesn’t understand what he was feeling and he hated it. he hated how he wants you to fawn over him and his works. he hated how he craves for your elation. he hated how he wanted to show off more of his aptitude to you. he hated how funny you make him feel. “j-just don’t break anything. i’ll make you do it all over again if you do, numbskull.”

“but if you’re gonna take something, take this.” he towered over you, reaching at one of the shelves above you. “‘s a necklace, nothing special.”

your heart melted at the sight of gold-lacquered jewelry in your hands, glimmering at the glowing afternoon. “when did you make this?”

“it was a long time ago, i was like…fuckin’ 12? ‘s my mom’s.”

you looked up, surprised. “hold up! 12?! and why are you giving me this if it’s your mom’s?”

“j-just fuckin’ take it and stop yammerin’ off, fuckin’ hell.” he stormed out the workshop, ears red. was he that angry that it reached his ears?

“h-hey!” you hesitantly called out, running out the shack into the field where he was standing. “thanks for… not treating me like shit. and this necklace too..! you create… beautiful things.” you fiddled with the bundle of metal on your palms, not meeting his eyes because your cheeks are outright ablaze right now. your mouth is running dry. your head is fuzzy. the base of your fingers sweating waterfalls. and all you could hear was your wavering voice and the deafening pummels of your heartbeat.

there was a moment of silence. you tried and peek at his expression because christ does the complete absence of sound gnawed at you. you saw him covering the span of his upper cheek from the left side, across the bridge of his nose, into the right side with his palm. his eyes also refusing to meet yours. to your surprise, he was also brightly red; it was evident even if his scarf mask hid most of his face.

“i-it’s fuckin’ nothing, s-shut the fuck up and let me fuckin’ breathe jesus christ.” he said in one breath, trying his best to not slur his words. “i-i need fuckin’... air.” he mumbled, not even looking at you as he sauntered far, far away.

he left in the middle of the field; dizzy at the events, flushed and bothered. you bent down and hugged your knees, burying your face in your palms as you screamed through your nose silently. resting both of your hands beside your face to regulate your temperature once more. cause fuckin’ hell has it been going wild ever since you arrived here.

as days passed through, you had either spent most of your days doing chores or experimenting with food in the company of the three servants. you had managed to establish a camaraderie between the four of you. baking with killer has been delightful, he always has the most intriguing stories about the prince.

as for the prince, you almost never see him after that incident in the shack. whenever you find him in a room and it’s just the two of you or the other way around, he always leaves you and won’t say anything. absolute avoidance.

so you’ve decided to take matters in your own hands and head to his quarters. they’ve told you it was forbidden, that he would be more than bent out of shape. as if that ever stopped you.

you traversed the west wing. same high ceilings, aristocratic paintings, and golden chandeliers. in the far middle of the vast room, there lied a scraped up wooden door. you immediately knew that it was his.

you tried knocking a few times but was met with silence. so you entered and was met with an ominous, abraded room. frayed carpet, broken windows, scratched curtains, broken bed frames, rugged furniture stacked upon each other. it scared you, and made you want to call out to him.

until you saw that tulip encased in a glass, emitting a soft glow. unlike any other tulips in his garden, this one looked distinct. you got closer to have a better look. tilting your head as you examine the glittering object.

“the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“i-i’m sorry you didn’t answer so-”

“you fuckin’ trespassed, is that it?! get out before i change my mind!”

“b-but i still have some ques-”

“out!” he growled, thunder erupting once more. for the first time, fear had completely taken over you from the force of his voice and his aura. minatory gaze chilling in your spine. you ran out his room, into the garden of tulips, trying to calm down and get some air.

“it seems you have made a wrong move, master.” killer spoke, as the both of them gaze out the window.

“i don’t care.” cold. but man, killer’s right and it’s painfully annoying.

a few hours after, you were with the men in the kitchen as you ranted your heart out.

“what’s wrong with him?” you frowned, kneading the dough in your powdered hands. almost as if pouring all of your frustrations in the paste between your hands.

“everything.” law said in passing, rolling his eyes.

“i suppose you’ve bewitched the master.” killer returned as he mixed the gouache for the dessert later at dinner. “your little thanks and gesture at the garden had sent him into a state of deep coma. he almost never eats too, says his stomach felt funny these days. ”

“i-i don’t understand…?”

“other than his late mother, he never felt anything remotely close to rapport to other women; only indifference. you see, the master is awfully confused. emotions are somewhat foreign to him. why don’t you help and make it clear to him?”

“make what clear?”

“that the feeling is mutual.”

“w-what feeling?!” you grew rather agitated, trying to piece out whatever killer was saying.

“ah. they’re both dumb.” luffy snickered, rubbing his nose.

you could see the mild frustration in the butler’s eyes, he sighed softly before continuing. “nevermind that now, the master has prepared another something for you.”

the mention of him jolted you awake, “is he finally gonna come out of his fuckin’ cage?” it sounded bitter but boy were you hopeful to see him again, not like you’d admit that.

“as a matter of fact, he will. he is waiting right now.” he straightened up, gesturing at the yard leading to the riverside.

“h-huh?!” you tilted your head in confusion, “but it’s… dark out.”

“precisely.” a playful smile crept on the blond’s lips.

“how can you have a bonfire when it’s bloody bright out?” law’s tone was sardonic, crossing his arms.

“aww torao they’ll stargaze at the riverside! do you remember when we do that?!” the rubber boy shook the doctor in excitement, instigating the bright tint of pink in the taller lad’s cheeks.

“what took you so fuckin’ long?” the prince ‘greeted’ you with a frown. before him was a bonfire, not far from the riverside as water splashes against each other. he was sitting on a snowy, silk cloth spread across the silty ground. a woven basket, red and white checkered fabric blanketing the inside, a variety of sustenance ranging from loaves, finger fruits, packed sandwiches, and two bottles of exorbitant-looking rum.

“that’s not the issue here, kidd.” you firmly started, brows furrowed and face red from fury. the scowl in his face got deeper since he expected you to be delighted, he was stunned at your tantrum. “you’re baffling me! you shower me with all those romance, ignore me for seven days, and then have a bonfire, stargazing at the beach date after?! make one thing clear, eustass kid! what the fuck do you intend to do with me?! are you just doing these things on a whim?! are you having fun playing with my feelings?!”

he avoided your gaze. hands curlings into fists because he’s mad that you’re right. he doesn’t even know what’s going on with himself either. he always feel sick around you, feels like he’s gonna vomit fuckin’ glitter as he put it. his head is all fuzzy and full of the thought of you.

“...sit down.” he said under his breath. you sighed and did so.

he took a deep breath before going on a tangent. “even i have no fuckin’ idea how this romance thing works! i thought the solitude in this castle will drive me crazy but no, you fuckin’ did! i want to avoid how good i feel about you. i hate that you’re right about every little thing and i want to praise you for it. i hate how i always want to hear your voice. i hate how i always seem to fuckin’ look for you. in those seven days of avoidance, i stopped myself. because i know that if i didn’t i’ll be far too gone. i fuckin’ hated that i’m starting to fall deeper with you, goddamn it! all these damn years i’ve been condemned to hell on earth, i lost all hope. and then your cute ass fuckin’ showed up.”

your chest tightened as butterflies bloomed in your chest and your ears rang continuously. you were frozen. he repeats ‘hate’ a lot but it all sounds like love to you. the way he frolics in his seat as he tries to muster up his words. with the contrast of how red he is and how he ‘hates’ you so much, you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself and grow cocky.

“you think i’m cute, huh?”

“fuck off, little mouse.”

“if that’s your declaration of love i’m taking it.”

“it’s not.”

“really?”

“no.”

“‘cause i feel the same way.”

“fuck yo- wait really?!”

you hid your face in your palms, trying to regulate your heartbeat and temperature. after a long while of silence from getting tongue-tied at the confessions, you both faced each other and laughed it off.

“since you love me so much, fulfill a request for me.” you scooted closer. hands brushing by his sinewy arms, up to his broad shoulders, up to the thick column of his neck, to his half-clothed face. you could feel him going hot under your touch. “take it off for me. the mask.”

he hesitated for a while, before untying the knot behind his head. the satin material flowing graciously down his lap, revealing the lower part of his face. the canines of his lower teeth were prominent, both reaching up to his cheekbones. his scar that you noticed a few days ago, extended down the left side of his face down to his neck; seeming to be extending even further to his chest.

he carefully watched how your face will contort. will it be fear? disgust? prejudice? he expected you to recoil from whatever grotesque visage you’re seeing but no. even you got shocked at your actions.

you reached over, cupping his cheeks with glassy eyes and a smile as you tried stifling your sobs. you then wrapped both of your arms around his neck and pulled him close. he grew awfully red at your embrace. “thank you for being brave enough to show me.”

his heart swelled in his chest, it seemed surreal that such words were uttered to a beast like him. how could you endear someone so inhuman and jarring like him? no one has thanked him for showing his face, only shrieks of fear and disgust yet here you are smiling before him.

as the night deepens, so was your warmth for each other. talking about all things possible. the moon scintillating, casting a soft glow on each other’s faces.

in the quietness of the river and the tree branches you two were under, it was not too long after both of you started taking swigs of rum. the sweet yet bitter taste filling your being. you were settled between his legs, he was leaning back to the tree bark to support your and his’ weight, his heartbeat steady on your back, his thick fingers combing through your locks; his piercing nails giving your head little cozy scratches as it lulled you to drowsiness, while the other hand intertwined with yours.

“you feel warm.” he lowly mumbled, placing his chin on top of your head. you snuggled closer to the juncture between his neck and shoulders. “it’s sweet.”

“am i?” you purred, hiccupping afterwards; obviously drunk as shit.

“that was just half a bottle, how are you drunk?”

“i don’t drink much.” you giggled uncontrollably. startled by your own actions, you suddenly straddled yourself on his lap.

you held his face between your hands and placed a kiss on his forehead, holding it for a while. “never knew i’d fall with someone like you.”

“what, someone like a beast?” he scoffed.

“someone so out of everyone’s leagues yet i managed to draw you into mine. i like it. more than the fantasy of ideal men in fiction. more than the love stories i dreamed of being on. more than the written words i dreamed of hearing. more than the romance the books had taught me.” you declared. “you stand on top of all of them, my prince.” you rubbed your thumb on his tinted cheeks, tracing his horns with your fingers. you soon got lost in his eyes reflecting the rising sun from the east, falling deeper as you stare even further.

“why’re you gettin’ all fuckin’ sappy,” he tried looking away, quickly heating up. shortly after, you soon nestled in his arms and returned to the cuddle position you two had earlier where he was behind you.

“do the books also tell you that,” his hand crept up under your shirt, immediately startling you as his cold hands stung in your warm skin. “couples do this.” he continued, hand rubbing on your stomach, precariously trailing up to your chest.

“w-what are you-” you tried stopping him but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, melting in his touch.“we’re not a fucking couple.”

“not yet.” his hands roamed even further inside, playing with the seams of your bra. “tell me little mouse, how does it feel?”

“p-prick.” you should stop him before it escalates to something more yet you want him to keep going, even further. his breath is hot against your neck. his fangs brushing by your ear. “i feel like throwing my fist in your stupid face.”

“mm.” he grinned, both hands running on your waist. he pressed his nose on your head, inhaling your scent before placing a kiss on your ear. “want me to keep going?”

“fuck you.”

he then unhooks the clip of your undergarment, you felt the peril creeping up in your neck together with his small hums. “never knew you were this hungry for me.” you added.

“oh, you’ll find out now.” he whispered in a low voice. “the sexual tension was too palpable, no?” his hands slid beneath your now loose undergarment, his serrated nails poking you from time to time as he kneaded your mounds in his massive palms.

“degenerate.” you said it bitterly through half-lidded eyes. but you were just trying to mask the great amount of pleasure he’s arousing off of you.

“but you love it so much, aye?” he whispered, his fangs poking in your ear. “by the time dawn comes, you won’t be whining so much, i promise you.” his words spread electricity across your body, his smoky voice drying your throat and awakening something in you.

“go on then,” you turned around and slid your clothes off over your head, watching him fall completely red and crazy over you as his eyes scanned each curve and detail of your body. “do what you want with me.”

moments after, the alcohol soon had taken an effect and you had a hazy memory of whatever unfolded. but you know one thing for sure, you fell asleep in his arms after a long while of pleasure under the stars.

the blinding sun jostled you two awake. you grumbled lightly as you nuzzled your face in his chest, where the minimal shading of the tree you two are under was prominent enough to hide from the light. he hugged you tighter, rubbing your bare shoulders. “oi, wake up and get a good look at your prince.”

it took you a while to register what he was saying, your mind was still cloudy from sleep. but you sprung up immediately and got a good look at his face, the daylight glow accentuating his sharp features.

“who the fuck are you?!” you instantly got on your feet, clutching the blanket wrapped around you and getting the most amount of distance from this dashing young man before you.

he bellowed a laugh. but this time, it’s not chilling anymore, it’s dreamy enough to bloom flowers and spread butterflies on your stomach.

“it’s me, the man you’re so crazy about.” he smugly retorted, opening his arms for you.

you narrowed your eyes before it all finally came back to you. you ran to his arms, hugging him so tight he fell on his back. he returned your hug. one arm spanning across the width of your back, getting tighter with each second while the other propped you both up. burying his nose in your neck, the absence of fangs makes it easier to plant kisses at the juncture between your neck and shoulders. brows furrowing as he inhaled your scent once more, relishing at the touch of you.

“a little fuckin’ tight, mouse.” he complained, almost choking.

you pulled away, scrutinizing him as you placed both hands at the sides of his face while you straddle his lap. you traced your fingers across his high cheekbones and hollow cheeks sculpted by the gods. mused at his intense, canary eyes reeling you in as you studied each feature in his face in the aurora. you run your fingers across his extremely defined and narrow nose bridge. down to his plump lips that kissed you all night until daybreak. “you’re fucking stunning, i can’t believe i got my hands on you.”

despite his rose-tinted cheeks, he managed to plaster a cocky grin on his face. “i’m all yours, don’t worry.”

“NAAAMEE!!!” you hear your name being shouted from a distance, it grew closer each second. you furrowed your brows and looked back. there you see luffy and law, jogging by the vast fields. “we’re turned back! y’all did it!” you raised a brow in confusion. you assumed that since kidd turned back, they might as well too?

as luffy jumped in both of you two’s arms and rejoiced loudly, law and killer stayed back watching the two of you try and manage luffy’s embrace.

“who would’ve thought master would find love?” killer sighed in relief.

“they’re both crazy, of course it’d work out well.” the doctor responded, arms crossed.

after having a banquet for breakfast with the members of the manor, you and kidd have decided to bathe in his black, porcelain tub at his master’s bedroom. washing each other up, scrubbing each other’s backs, playing with the foamy bubbles, and rambling about all sorts of things. time seems to pass by but you couldn’t care less, you have all the time in the world to spend it with him.

subsequently after lunch, kidd decided to take you somewhere after blindfolding you. guiding you as he held your hand and shoulders to arrive at where he wants to take you.

“what is it?! stop pushing!”

“be fuckin’ patient, alright?”

as soon as he took off your blindfold, you were met with walls upon walls of books. two balconies with mahogany railings, extending to each side of the room. shiny, porcelain floors where you could almost see your reflection on. a reading nook on a tall window seat with pillows and linen sheets. books of all kinds filling all the shelves brought enormous bliss to you.

“kidd this is…”

“yeah it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he scanned the room, then back to you. “it’s all yours.”

you turned to him, smiling ear to ear. you wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping into his embrace. “it’s everything i ever dreamed of.”

he placed a kiss at the crown of your head, hugging you just as tight as you did. you spend the afternoon rummaging through the sets of books as he follows you around like a puppy, taking pleasure in your euphoria. once you’ve picked out books, you read it to him and he patiently listens and watches how your face always has that gleeful sheen when you’re around your books. you even taught him how to read piece by piece, it was an intimate moment you’d want to relive over and over again.

shortly after, you got yourself fixed up for dinner. the servants had taken their time in applying cosmetics and perfume to you whilst preparing different sets of gowns. lines of dresses with shades of varied colors and unique designs. but what caught your eye was the voluminous, off-the-shoulder, dandelion ball gown. it was conically tiered as the ruffles of the silhouette extended down to the floor. there were matching creamy, yellow gloves and golden pearl earrings.

finally getting dolled up, you made your way to the castle ball room. before you went down the stairs, you saw kidd waiting in a three-piece, blue and white suit with a tailcoat. you snorted at yourself because of how proper he looks, he furrowed his brows at you at your remark.

“the fuck you snickerin’ at?” he said, holding out his hand for you.

“nothing,” you pressed your lips together to contain your laugh. “you just look too formal, ‘s not like you.” you took his hand and he grabbed your waist, eventually getting into position for the dance.

soon, the melody of the classical orchestra resounded.

“you’re a good dancer, not bad.” you praised him.

“‘s nothing, one of the few things they drilled into royals back then.” he bragged, “you suck, though.” he snorted, looking down at you.

you blushed in embarrassment at his remark. “shut up or i’ll step on you.” you said through gritted teeth.

“by all means,” he winked. “you look fuckin’ amazing.” he leaned closer, placing a kiss on your ear.

“how’ll you tell your father? he probably hates my guts.” he instigated, laughing bitterly.

“he’ll love you… soon. trust me.” you tried comforting him with a soft smile. “for now, let’s just have ourselves a good dance, yeah?”

you hugged him close, placing your chin on his shoulder as he rested atop your head. reveling in each other’s arms according to the tune of the music across the lofty ceilings, porcelain floors, and widely decorated walls.

when the next day came, you two had visited your village. your father almost had a heart attack from the attractive man you’ve brought home. when you told him it was the beast, he almost threw all his tools at him but you explained it to him and he calmed down. it’ll take some warming up, but kidd is more than happy to go through all that for you.

BRO FINALLY PUTTING THIS OUT GODDAAAAAAAAMNNN this is actually my first time using writing guides and thorough description i hope it was immersive uwu

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writtendaydreamm · 2 years

Text

Grapes and Denial

Part 1: Wine and Tea

Summary: Prince Daemon pays his lover a visit before her journey home.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long! But I wanted to make sure this was going to be a good read. Especially for everyone looking forward to this follow up. I did change the name of the main character’s home after rereading the first part again. But other than that this picks up after part 1. I hope you guys enjoy it and I would love to hear your thoughts on it. I do have a third part in the works as well, so be on the look out for that in the next few weeks!

The rays of morning light shining through the curtains pulled Daemon from his sleep. Stirring awake he reached for Y/n. Expecting to feel her warm, soft skin he was disappointed to find that he was alone in bed. Nothing more than his cold sheets marked by her scent keeping him company.

He had hoped to spend a few more moments together before she departed King’s Landing. Especially considering he had no idea how long her father intended to keep her away from court. After taking a moment to think about the situation, Daemon found it a bit silly. In his opinion, if her father’s intent is to dispel the rumors of her dalliance with the Rogue Prince, a hasty marriage so soon after would only add more suspicion around the subject. But regardless, Daemon wasn’t all that worried about her father’s plans to betroth her. He had a plan of his own at play.

After dressing himself rather hastily, he took to the dark passageways that lay between the Red Keep’s walls to reach Y/n’s private chamber. Through the heavy secret door, he could hear her voice accompanied by another woman’s who he assumed was her maid. An ear pressed against the rough stone, he listened carefully, waiting till he heard her maid leave to make his entrance.

---

“The plaits look lovely, Reena,” Y/n praised her handmaid who had just finished styling her hair.

“Thank you, my lady,” the young woman bowed her head respectfully. “If that will be all, I am to assist Lisa in the kitchen preparing your meals for the journey.”

“Yes, of course,” Y/n dismissed her reluctantly. In truth, she didn’t want her to leave. Reena and all the castle gossip she brought helped to distract her from the reality of her situation.

As Reena closed the door behind her, Y/n was as she feared, left alone with her thoughts. Sat at her vanity staring into nothing, she began ruminating on how she ended up in this position. A deep dread filled the pit of her stomach. Was her father truly as serious about this impending betrothal as his letter makes it seem? She feared what would await her back home in Whitecliff. Not usually one for religion, she found herself contemplating a quick visit to the sept. Perhaps the Gods would show her mercy and spare her from an ill fate.

Engrossed in her own thoughts, she hadn’t heard the creaking of the secret door opening or the sound of Daemon’s footsteps as he snuck up behind her.

“Why the long face,” he whispered into her ear.

With a shriek, y/n jumped in her seat.

“You frightened me,” she scolded him. “What are you doing here?”

Leaning on the vanity table casually, he feigned offense. “Are you not happy to see me?”

“I fear I’m not capable of happiness at the moment,” she droned in response.

“Or eating it seems like,” he pointed out.

He wasn’t wrong. The platter of food and fruits before her had barely been touched. She had been on edge since the moment she woke and couldn’t stomach more than a few bites of her breakfast.

“Perhaps if I feed you, you’ll be more inclined,” he suggested.

Plucking a grape from its vine, he playfully brought it up to her lips. Not in as lighthearted of a mood as he, she swatted his hand away from her. With an eye roll he popped the grape into his own mouth as she spoke to him.

“The stress of my situation has taken its toll on my appetite.”

“If this stress you feel has anything to do with your father’s plans to betroth you, let me assure you, it will not follow through.”

Y/n looked up at him like he was mad. “How can you possibly assure me of that?”

“Because I won’t let it,” he said simply, bringing his hand up to cup her face gently.

She shook her head unconvinced by his words despite how confidently he spoke them.

“If it were only that simple.”

“It is that simple,” he said, thumb brushing her cheek softly. “You just need to trust me.”

“I have trusted you. And look where it’s gotten me,” she said bitterly, pulling away from his touch. “I am at the center of a reputation wrecking rumor and now being forced into a betrothal because of it.”

“I understand your situation but-”

“Understand?” she said, cutting him off. She nearly laughed at the audacity of his words. “You couldn’t possibly understand my situation. You are not the one being forced into a marriage. No - you’re already married.”

She knew that last comment would get under his skin and she couldn’t pass up the chance to do so. Just as she expected, with his jaw clenched and eyes darkened, he snapped at her sharply.

“Yes. A marriage I was forced into as well, need I remind you.”

“That may be so, but you are a man,” she said, her voice rising in exasperation as she stood from her seat. “You can run from your marriage. Take as many lovers as you please. Fuck your way through every brothel in the realm. I will never be allowed to do the same, to seek happiness and pleasure beyond my marriage as you do so freely”

“Watch your tone,” he warned her. With a pointed finger, he stepped towards her, towering over her now. “Do not release your frustrations onto me.”

“You are my frustration. I am in this position because of you,” she said, her tone unrelenting as she looked up at him defiantly.

“And how is this my doing?” he scoffed indignantly.

“Because I could’ve had my pick of suitors. But instead of listening to my mother and father urging me to marry sooner than later, I listened to your lies instead.”

“Now you call me a liar,” he said, losing his patience with each accusation she threw at him.

“It’s the truth. Nothing of what you promised has come to fruition. Your brother has denied annulling your marriage countless times. Your talk of a future together, of marriage and children, I see now, were nothing more than delusions you used to hold me hostage. Everything you’ve said to me was nothing more than lies-”

Having heard enough, he grabbed her chin harshly, cutting her off.

“I have never lied to you,” he said between gritted teeth.

Normally she’d cower under him, but not this time. Emboldened by the emotions coursing through her, she didn't back down or look away. They stood there wordlessly, staring at each other, waiting for the other to give in first. A heavy, heated tension settled between them as they did

The way she held his gaze with a fire and passion of her own turned his anger into arousal. And he hated it. He hated how strong the hold that she had on him was. How desperate he always was for her. How even now as she was getting on his last nerve, he was still utterly taken by her.

Never one to deny his impulses, with the hand still gripping her chin, Daemon moved his thumb to brush against her lips. His mouth fell open slightly as she wrapped her lips around his thumb. Looking into his eyes through her lashes, she sucked on it, swirling her tongue around the tip of it.

Daemon groaned as he grabbed her face, he took her lips with his in a hungry kiss, all tongue and teeth. He took this opportunity to undo the ties of her top, pulling it down to grope her breast. Beginning to lose herself in his touch, she pulled away from him in a half-hearted attempt to stop things before they went any further.

“Daemon, we shouldn’t.”

But that did nothing to deter him. Holding her close to him, he planted kisses along her shoulders.

“My maids could walk in at any moment,” she said breathlessly. But even as she said this she allowed herself to be guided backwards as he moved their bodies towards the door.

“They can’t walk in if they can’t open the door,” he said.

Before she could make sense of what he meant, he pushed her against the door, her back hitting the weathered wood. She let out a moan as he pressed his body into hers. Her core throbbed as she felt how hard he was for her.

With one hand pinning her arms above her head, he trailed the other down her body. He squeezed her breast appreciatively before moving down her waist and finally stopping at her hips. Lifting her skirts up, he gave her a taste of what she needed. Running a finger over her underwear, he groaned feeling how wet she was. Pushing it aside, he teased her, circling his finger around her entrance.

Bucking her hips against his hand, she needed more.

“Look at you,” he tsked, continuing to tease her. “Such a needy fucking whore.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed in agreement, stroking his ego. “I need you. Please.”

As if those were the magic words, he slipped a finger into her aching core, pumping in and out of her. He rested his forehead against hers, watching her face contort in pleasure. She became unbelievably wet as he added another finger into the mix. The only sounds filling the room were her breathy pants and the lewd squelching between her thighs. Feeling her tighten around his fingers, he knew she was close. But before she could reach completion, he stopped. Still upset by the accusations she made during their heated exchange, he decided that he would deny her the one thing she was craving at the moment. He released his grip on her hands above her and pulled his fingers out of her. He brought those fingers to his lips, sucking the sweet taste of her off of them.

She threw her head back with a disappointed huff as she felt her orgasm slip away from her. Beginning to straighten herself out, fixing her skirts and attempting to tie her top, Daemon stopped her.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “I’m not done with you yet.”

With that he pulled her in for a quick, sloppy kiss, allowing her to taste herself on his lips before instructing her to lift her skirts once again. She did as she was told and watched as he got down on his knees before her. He locked eyes with her as he pulled her underwear down. After she stepped out of them, he stuffed them into his pocket. A keepsake to remind him of her during her absence.

The sight of Daemon on his knees made her core throb once again. Grabbing her right leg and placing it over his shoulder, he peppered kisses along her inner thigh before finally reaching her wet hole. Her hands ran through his hair making a mess of it as he licked a stripe from her hole to her clit. He teased her, running his tongue between her folds before finally circling around her clit. She threw her head back against the door, this time in pleasure as the orgasm she thought was lost began to build again. She tried her best to keep quiet, fully aware of those who may be passing by her door, but she couldn’t contain her loud moans when she felt his tongue slip inside of her. The feeling of it all becoming too much to handle.

Feeling her start to fight him and push his head away from her, he flung her other leg over his shoulder. Left with nothing to support but the door against her back and her hands on his head, there was no way she was escaping him now. He devoured her pussy like a man starved. His hands grasped at her ass and hips, keeping her down on his face even as she squirmed. The sweet taste of her was intoxicating. He shook his head from left to right, his tongue lapping up every bit of her. She moaned loudly again when he began circling his thumb around her clit as his tongue continued to dip in and out of her. Her toes began curling and her thighs squeezed his head as she could feel herself getting closer and closer. Just about to reach her release, Daemon once again pulled away denying her that satisfaction.

“Daemon,” she cried out, left feeling hanging and wanting as another orgasm slipped between her fingers.

She gripped his shoulders for support as he set her down. Ready to complain, she was silenced by his lips which were covered in her slick. During their kiss, she brought her hand down between them. If he wanted to be a tease, she could do that too. She palmed his cock before slipping her hand into his pants and stroking him. He moaned into their kiss as she ran her thumb over his tip. As good as it felt, he wasn’t willing to give up control. He pulled away from her, turning her around forcefully to face the door. Feeling him raise her skirts from behind, she placed her hands firmly on the weathered wood bracing herself as he aligned himself with her glistening entrance.

Bottoming out inside of her in one swift stroke, he fought the initial urge to pound into her. He started off slow, pulling himself out of her nearly all the way before slamming back in. With the power of each thrust, pushing her forward, he brought one hand to grip her shoulder and the other gripping her hip holding her in place.

Y/n could do nothing but take it as best as she could. Each long, slow thrust feeling both blissful and torturous at the same time. She bit down on her lip hard, nearly to the point of drawing blood as she tried to keep her moaning down.

Daemon wasn’t as careful about containing his groans. Her walls were just so warm and wet and they wrapped around him perfectly as if she were made just for him. While he was able to keep this agonizing pace up for a while, he wouldn’t be able to for much longer. He only had so much self control. And at the end of it all, denying her the pleasure of a release was not above reaching his own.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw his brows furrow in concentration as he began fucking into her rougher and quicker. The sounds of their flesh meeting increased in speed and volume to match. A course of moans left her mouth as he hit her sweet spot with each thrust. He could tell she was close, but at this point was too caught up in the build up of his own release to bother keeping her from hers. He kept his pace steady, and her walls tightened around him as she finally reached her peak. Y/n could barely keep herself up, her legs losing their strength as the waves of pleasure coursed through her.

Daemon bent her over now, holding her arms behind her back with one hand, his other still gripping her shoulder tightly. He threw his head back as this new position allowed him to thrust deeper into her. She could feel him hitting spots deep inside of her she hadn’t even known existed. Deep, guttural moans escaped her lips with each thrust of his. These new sensations brought her close to yet another orgasm before she could even come down from her last.

She fought against his hold on her arms, leaving scratches on his hand and forearm in the process. But her attempts were futile as he only held onto her tighter.

“I can’t take it. Daemon, please. I can’t,” she moaned, shaking her head.

“I don’t fucking care,” he grunted, now snapping his cock into her at a ruthless pace.

Her body went limp as her second orgasm ripped through her stronger than the first. She felt like collapsing but was held up by his arms wrapping around her waist. It took a few more erratic thrusts before he buried his cock deep inside of her, finally releasing his warm seed into her. He grunted as she pulsed around him, milking every last drop.

Y/n brought her fingers to run through his hair as he dropped his forehead into the crook of her neck. They stood there wordlessly, bodies melded into one, catching their breaths. Unsure of when he’d get the chance to be inside her again, he savored the feeling of her wet velvety walls. But the peaceful moment was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Clearing her voice with a cough, y/n called out. “Who is it?”

“It’s Reena, Lady Y/n,” her handmaidens said from the other side of the door. “The meals are prepared and the carriage should be ready within the hour.”

“Perfect,” she said, trying to sound normal as Daemon took this opportunity to get a bit cheeky. With the full intention of distracting her he brought his hand to fondle her breasts, his lips ghosting over the sensitive spot on her neck.

“Shall I have one of the men come and fetch the last of your belongings?” Reena asked.

“No, not yet. I just need another moment,” y/n lied, suppressing a moan as Daemon continued teasing her.

“Of course. I’ll have them come later. Is there anything else you require, Lady Y/n.”

“No. That will be all, thank you Reena,” Y/n said dismissing her maid.

Y/n giggled as she swatted his hands away. With a chuckle he pulled himself out of her, his cock covered in her milky release. He helped straighten her skirts before pulling his own pants up. Y/n brought her top back into place. Seeing her struggle with the ties, he stepped in.

“Here,” he said, taking the strings from her hand, “let me.”

The act of readying themselves together was so sensual and domestic. These were the moments she longed for with Daemon. She wanted to stay in this moment, to make it last forever. Her heart felt, light and full but that didn’t last long as the uneasy feeling from earlier settled in.

“What?” he asked skeptically, noticing the way she stared at him.

“I just wish things were different,” she admitted, a sad smile gracing her lips. Brushing a stray strand of his hair back into place, she continued. “I don’t want to be betrothed to some man I’ve never met or any other man for that matter. I want you.”

Holding her face tenderly, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Against my better judgment, yes. I do,” she admitted, her hands moving to caress his face now too.

“Then you have nothing to worry about. You won’t be married off to that Baratheon boy. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

#hotd smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x you #Daemon Targaryen #daemon targaryen imagine #hotd x reader #hotd imagine

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ofmermaidstories · 1 year

Text

soulmate AU but it’s a world where platonic—and no less intense—soulmate bonds are just as common as romantic ones. like it’s not uncommon to come across siblings who are soulmates, or friends, etc etc. and like, obviously the romantic ones are romanticised—they’re popular in dramas and idols/singers will play up the mystery of their soul-bonding if it’s with another bandmate, because, you know, stans—but love is everywhere in this world, it’s a fact of life, inescapable.

and then there’s you. you’re quirkless; it’s fairly rare, these days. around you everyone is getting super-powered, and super-bonded but you’ve always just been—you, singular. you, quirkless. there’s studies, of course, that suggest quirks and the soul-bonding thing comes from the same source, has something to do with the human heart but you’re not a scientist and you’re not a quirk theorist so—eh, it doesn’t matter, you just live your life.

the most infamous soul-bonded pair in Japan would have to be Pro Heroes Deku and Great Explosion Murder Dummy Dynamight. they’ve been studied, poked at, prodded—their bond isn’t romantic in nature but they’ve torn battlefields and cities apart to get to each other, both in their anger at each other and their fear for one another’s safety. their former classmates are all tightly bonded—with marks of their own—and both Pros have been linked to other people romantically. Pro Hero Deku’s just celebrated his marriage to Japan’s sweetheart, Uravity, the pair just as close as any soul-bonded couple. And there were rumours—hope, maybe, for the perfect ribbon-tied ending to their story that it’d imply—that Dynamight was dating Red Riot, who’s affable and strong and is golden foil against the smoulder of Dynamight’s glares. but he’s not; Red Riot bonds with someone else. It doesn’t effect their relationship in the slightest but the media—and the hero fans—are disappointed for them both.

the soul-mate mark isn’t an actual, visible mark; it’s a shift in someone. falling in love at first sight is an old adage that doesn’t adequately express what happens. People describe it like knowing; just seeing someone’s face for the first time and thinking, yeah. That’s them. soul-mates who find each other early in life—like siblings, like friends, like Dynamight and Deku—describe it as it’s own presence. A tether, for good or bad, that keeps them together. There are stories of people not realising they’re soul-mates, because they’ve known each other all their lives—not realising until it was too late, until they were separated by choice or circumstance or death. sometimes you wonder if that’s what happened to you—if you met your soul-mate when you were young, too young, and just never knew.

“Don’t be silly,” your mother says in that mean, too sharp way that suggests at the heart of it, she’s worried. Her soul-mate was your father; classic and perfect and very much what you weren’t living. “Everyone around us at the time found their bonds. Don’t you remember?”

She’s talking about the time you came home from grade school, seven years old and crying, because your best friend—the only other kid in your neighbourhood who hadn’t found their bond—bonded to the new girl. She’s talking about the time you came home and slammed your bedroom door shut, fourteen years old and in tears, because your other best friend bonded with a boy he met at a sports competition. They hated each other and still hated each other to this day, fierce rivals that played against one another—

And still it was just you. You, singular. You, walking along a windy pathway, trying to shove the new book you’ve just bought into the gape of your handbag—the ribbons of your best friend’s birthday present trailing along your arm like creeper vines. A gust blows through the street and you squint as the ribbons you’ve overzealously used dance; bringing you to a halt in the middle of the path as you try to fight three things at once.

“Watch it,” a voice behind you growls, rough and annoyed. You half-turn, similarly irritated—and stop, something within you shifting.

He’s bracketing you; sour courtesy, an arm up and giving you space, making others move around him, around you.

He’s not in costume. You stare at his arm in it’s dark jacket, and then follow the line of it to his shoulder, his face; a face that might’ve been lovingly carved, once, out of marble, smoothed over with an artist’s hand and given the deep-set eyes, the wide mouth pulling into a frown.

“Eh?” He asks, when you don’t say anything. His face—classical and beautiful—pinches. “Oi, y’good?”

Oh, you think. Oh no.

Dynamight raises a fine blond eyebrow and you try to swallow the laugh at this cosmic joke back.

#prompts and drabbles and other things #i was made for lovin’ you — drabble

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secretsocietie · 1 year

Text

Steve's parents are home.

They came--not for him, but for some need to make Hawkins feel the weight of their presence at the annual charity ball.

Guess you can't hold the title of rich asshole unless your neighbors can watch you prove it.

All it means for him is quiet, stern talks followed by long disappointed looks. Nit-picking comments that attack everything from his life choices to his clothes.

One particularly bad moment has his father, whiskey glass in hand, making a face as he examined Steve's nose.

"I'm not paying to fix it until you learn to stay out of fights." He tells him, voice a mix of disgusted and haughty that Steve himself used to mimic.

"There's nothing wrong with my nose!" He'd snapped but still spent an hour in the bathroom anyway, worrying about it.

Which is what his father had wanted, the cold bastard.

It was the straw that had sent Steve banging out of his front door, uncaring about his parents yelling about appearances behind him.

It was enough that he'd suffered under veiled insults and poor attempts at caring. That they hadn't once asked about anything that had happened to him, hadn't cared to continue the conversation the one time Steve had tried to bring even a portion of it up.

To go after his appearance, the last thing he could fucking cling too?

Fuck them. They could have the cold house they refused to call a home to themselves.

He doesn't have a destination in mind when he gets in the Beamer. Just cranks the music and rockets out of the driveway.

Drives a little too fast.

Takes the next corner hard and almost nails a car laying haphazardly across the road.

Steve stands on the brakes, jerking the wheel sideways. Feels his tires slide in gravel as he narrowly misses a full blown collision with what is rapidly looking to be Billy Hargrove's Camaro.

Adrenaline thunders in body and for a moment Steve feels like he's outside of time, until the Beamer finally slams to a stop.

"Fucking--help!" A voice he knows screams, and Steve's out of his car in a second, ready to square up.

He expects to see Hargrove.

Assumes the idiot is the one causing problems and gears himself up to face the asshole down a second time.

Hopes whatever poor saps got in his way this time isn't a kid.

What Steve doesn't expect to see, is the younger man bolting towards him, blood splattered down his face and face screwed up in wild panic.

Something takes his legs out from under him before he gets even halfway to Steve, smashing him face first into the gravel.

It’s brutal, and Steve flinches back as Hargrove cries out, the sound almost animalistic. It‘s hard to hear over the crunch of gravel, the way his hands had flown down to try and catch himself and were torn along the rough rocks.

Somehow he manages to scramble into movement despite the pain he has to be in, determined in a way Steve recognizes instinctively as a mixture of adrenaline and pure terror.

He has time to process hauntingly familiar red-black vines, like the tentacles of some great creature that’s writhing around Hargrove’s legs as he digs into the ground with his fingers, fighting to escape.

Grunts harshly as the vines go taught and pull.

He's being dragged into the maw of an open warehouse, the open door marred with thick, dark slime, and for a split second wide, tear streaked blue eyes meet Steve's own.

"Harrington!" Hargrove screams, the sound raw, "Help me!"

It's enough to cut through the shock keeping Steve in place.

He springs forward as Billy's hand releases the gravel to reach for him instead.

Not that Steve's going to take it.

Knows better than to get into a tug of war with the Upside Down.

Instead he darts past, starts kicking the shit out of the tendrils as he looks about desperately for a weapon.

His nailbat is in the back of the Beamer, but he needs to free Hargrove before he can get it.

Has the worst feeling that if Hargrove is dragged to the bottom of the dark stairs, the blonde won't be making it back home.

Tendrils strike at his ankles, snakelike, and Steve dances away with a curse.

Billy is howling up a storm, swear words mixing with pleas in between frantic, choked noises that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

He needs a fucking weapon. Is furious at himself for not carrying around a knife, or a flashlight or literally anything.

It's the frantic mental scrambling that does him in, a vine snapping out and embedding itself in his ankle.

It jerks Steve off his feet, and he only evades capture due to his own flailing limbs severing the thin connection as he falls down.

Belts out a string of curse words as pain rockets up his leg, the singular thin vine trying to bury itself back into his leg, stabbing at the jean material of his pants.

He jerks away, kicking frantically at it. Has tje odd thought that at least he had managed to avoid smacking his head this time.

Hargrove is forcefully yanked past him as Steve struggles to stand back up. The slide of his body makes a horrid scraping noise that makes Steve clench his teeth.

The younger man's hands catch on the doorway, blood and tears mixing down his face.

He stares dead into Steve's eyes, and for the first time, the older boy feels like he's seeing Billy instead of Hargrove.

A guy who's barely 18, blood clumping in his hair and face painfully young.

Way too young to die like this.

"Steve, please." Billy whispers it like he's using his last breath to say it, the plea mounting Steve's fury into something monstrous.

Hell will freeze over before the fucking Upside Down takes another person he knows away from him.

"Fuck this!" Steve snarls, then lunges to bite the largest vine.

It's not made of wood.

The taste is vile, but he can hear whatever's down at the bottom of the stairs shriek as his teeth rip a huge chunk out of it.

He manages to find a decent sized rock in the gravel, and Steve wastes no time using it. Smashes it again and again into the vine, still ripping with his teeth.

It tastes a lot like rancid, raw meat, something Steve is doing his best not to think about.

Finally the fucking thing tears apart, and Steve spits everything in his mouth out angrily.

This gets at least one of Hargrove's legs free.

Later Steve will give credit where credit is due because Billy wastes no time picking the fight back up.

Watches as he jams a hand down his pockets and yanking out a Swiss army knife. It's not the switchblade Steve's been wishing for, but Billy uses it like it is.

Flexes his upper body in a show of power, proving his muscles aren't just for looks.

Holds himself up by his core alone as he stabs down at the remaining vine that's trapped him.

Together they're close to freeing Billy when two slimmer, darker vines shoot up from the gloom. One pierces Hargrove in the shoulder, close to his chest.

The other goes through Steve's hand to nail Billy's leg.

They scream in unison, Steve attacking instinctively with his teeth while the shorter boy under him bucks and withers, hand and tiny knife trying to dislodge the tendril in his shoulder.

Steve succeeds first, biting clear through his vine and yanking it out of himself and Billy.

He rises to a crouch, uses his good hand to help wrestle with the second tendril as it wiggles its way deeper into Billy.

Rips it out with Billy's help, and prays none of it stays in him as Steve wings it down the stairs.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!' Billy pants, bloodied hands grasping at the ground, his head tipping backwards.

They're not safe. Not until they get away, or kill whatever larger horror the damn vines are attached to.

"Come on." Steve pants, moving behind Billy and getting his own arms under his, trying to pull them both up and back.

Away from the damn warehouse door.

Billy tries to help, legs kicking and scrambling as they half crawl half fall their way in between the Beamer and the Camaro.

It seems his legs are fucked (likely more fucked than Steve's ankle, if the vines been stabbing at him) and pain makes them both curse until they hit the door of Steve's car.

They crouch together for a moment, breathing hard and bleeding on one another.

Hargrove has a death grip on Steve's arms, holding him like a lifeline, back resting against his chest.

Steve's partially kneeling behind him, his good hand fisted on Billys shirt. Both stare at the warehouse door, fighting pain and praying for a few seconds just to let the waves of it pass.

Nothing happens for one breath.

Two.

On the fifth draw of air, Steve starts trying to stand, tugging on Billy to go up with him.

On the seventh something makes an inhuman roar, shaking the ground beneath them.

Hands fly out, reaching for the Beamers back door. Everything's slick under his blood but Steve manages to get it open anyways, hustling Billy inside before slamming it shut.

Crashes sound, growing louder as Steve dives for the driver's door.

Thanks every deity he can think of when he finds he never shut the Beamer off.

Her wheels squeal angrily as he slams her into reverse but he'll apologize for the abuse later, too focused on getting them the hell out of there.

"No hospital." Hargrove half pants, half moans, strewn across the backseat. Steve risks a glance at him in the rear view, and tries to make out how bad the other boy's injuries are. "Harrin-urk--gton, no hospital-!"

"I heard." Steve says.

Billy's hands are pressed into his shoulder, his shirt so stained with dirt, grime and blood it takes Steve a moment to realize it's been ripped open, bearing a toned, golden chest.

He doesn't want to go to the hospital either.

"You gonna die on me?"

Hargrove snorts.

"Had worse." He grunts out, then smiles around a bloody mouth. "Not even unconscious."

Somehow Steve believes him.

In the other direction, sitting on a nearby park bench, Eddie Munson is finishing up the last drug deal of the night.

He's too far away to hear any of the noise. Has a beaten and busted stereo playing a Judas Priest cassette, the noise a little fuzzy but good enough.

Definitely loud--which was why he never heard the vines coming.

#metalsandwich #harringroveson #steddilly #steve harrington #billy hargrove #eddie munson #steve harrington/billy hargrove #s3 rewrite #Hive AU #stranger things AU

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jakegooglyeyes · 5 months

Text

Emblem of Roses - 5

Hi, everyone, sorry for the radio silence. I have been dealing with a lot of issues in my life, with both my health and my job. I'm doing better now, so don't worry. I'll try to keep Emblem of Roses updated more regularly from now on. Thank you for everyone's support and patience. Your asks and messages meant a lot to me and they really pulled me through a tough time.

Special thanks to @gyllenhaalstories for countless encouragement and beautiful wishes.

Pairings: Jake Gyllenhaal x reader, Maggie Gyllenhaal x reader (Medieval AU)

Summary: You were content with your quiet life as an illegitimate daughter of the King, hanging out with the maids and learning your craft. All that ended when your father married you to Lord Gyllenhaal, the Usurper, as a peace offering and a hostage.

Word count: 5,400

Warnings: 18+ MINOR DNI , RPF, DUBCON, angst, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, hate to pining, polyamory, slow burn with smut, political marriage, mean!Jake to pining!Jake, cunning!Maggie, kind!reader.

*** Your online experience is your responsibility. You have been warned. If any of these content upsets you, DO NOT READ!!! ***

Divider credit: @/firefly-graphics

"Who are you?"

Lady Maggie's voice turns cold and distant. An immense presence you have never felt corners you like a helpless animal. Your feet grow heavy as though they are chained to the ground. Thousands of thoughts race through your head as you contemplate how to respond to ensure your head will remain on your shoulders. Ultimately, there is no other way but to speak the truth.

"I am the bastard daughter of the King." You try to still yourself, preventing the cracking in your voice.

Relief. In a split moment, that is all you feel, relieved that you no longer have to carry the burden of a lie. You tell them your given name, at which the Lady doesn't seem surprised, leaving you to wonder how much she has learned about you. And for how long.

"It is never my intention to deceive you. The King ordered me to marry Lord Gyllenhaal in the princess' stead. I was not given a choice, my Lord, my Lady." You attempt to look at the Lady in the eyes but quickly avert your gaze.

Lady Maggie eyes you like a hawk, searching for any sign of deception. You don't even want to know what kind of expression is on the Lord's face right now. The silence suffocates you like tangling vines. You hang your head low, making yourself appear as humble as possible. Now, you have said all that you can. Only Gods know if the Lord and Lady Gyllenhaal believe you. If they do not find your answer satisfactory, well, you fear your fate has been sealed.

"And you have no nefarious intentions? Another order by the King, perhaps." The Lady asks, her voice calm but grim. The cold glint of the dagger and the King's command flash through your head. There was indeed another order. One you would never have the courage to obey.

"Never, my Lady. I swear on my life that I never had a single ill intention." You reply, struggling to keep your voice from shaking. Your ears are ringing from the dread so much that you cannot even hear yourself speaking, only your thundering heartbeat. What you said is not a lie. You have no intention of taking anyone's life. You can only hope your nervousness doesn't make you seem guilty.

"No? So you are not spying on us?" The Lady's eyes gleam as she looks upon you with a mocking expression. Or it could have been her disappointment, not that you can discern what she thinks. "Well, I wonder why the Lord's little wife has been dressing as a servant and running all over the place."

As you hear the Lady's inquiry, you feel the life force being sucked out of your limbs. Blood is drained from your knuckles as you tighten your grip on the fabric of your dress. Being cast aside by the Lord has made you careless. You have guessed that the Lady knew all about your activities but were too foolish to realize how incriminating they were.

"What is the meaning of this?" The Lord frowns. It's not just you who are caught off guard. He is also stunned by Lady Maggie's revelation.

"Oh, my dear brother. You truly ought to spend more time with your wife." The Lady's tone is nonchalant, with a drop of sarcasm pointing toward her brother. She is not entirely pleased that her brother sees you as her responsibility.

"Who gave you permission to act freely within our premises?" The Lord demands an answer. His sharp tone and piercing gaze reveal his apparent distrust toward you, making you almost jump from your chair. "Speak!"

"I... I was merely trying to be useful during my presence here. I swear my motives are without malice." Another attempt to diffuse the Lord's hostility seems to be in vain.

In a brief moment, your eyes met with his. The creases between his brows remind you of the first time you saw him. It is the same hatred he always has for the royal family. The Lord's hand never leaves the dagger by his side. And you know, just one wrong word could cost you your insignificant little life.

"Do you truly expect us to believe the words of someone sent here by the King? How can we trust that you are not here to do his bidding?" The Lord questions your pleas. The idea of letting a spy run amok inside these walls makes him regret not being able to just sever your head right now and end all doubts. A quick swing of his blade for peace of mind? It is very tempting.

Ever the diplomat, Lady Maggie interferes after sensing the Lord's mounting thirst for blood. Her hand raises with grace in a gesture of restraint. "Rest assured, my Lord. My people have kept a watchful eye on her since her arrival. The girl can do no harm... even if she wants to."

You are somewhat thankful for Lady Maggie's intervention. Even if the Lady's scorn is carefully concealed in her sophistication, at the very least, she is more level-headed than her brother. However, it makes you wonder why she didn't deal with you or inform her brother sooner. Why force you to face him now?

You open your mouth, wanting to say something, but soon are cut off.

"Before you say anything, I wish to remind you that lying will not benefit you nor us." Lady Maggie raises her hand to shush you.

As you wonder about the Lady's implication, a steady footstep draws everyone's attention. The steward comes carrying something in her hand. The middle-aged woman leers at you before approaching her mistress, presenting Lady Maggie with the objects she has brought. The Lady nods in acknowledgment before dismissing her loyal servant.

You freeze in place, and your heart cannot stop drumming as you notice the familiar roll in the Lady's hand. You recognize the yellow hue of the parchment, the dry ink, and your very own unfinished sentences.

Your body is quicker than your brain as your composure crumbles, lunging forward, trying to take the letter from the Lady's hand. An act you greatly regret as soon as a tremendous force blocks your airway. You only have enough time to cast your fearful gaze over the Lord, who is closing his fingers around your throat with the intent to kill.

"I wonder who this 'mother' could be. I am quite flattered you speak so highly of our House, princess."

Lady Maggie's slender fingers brush across the material, unbothered by your predicament. Her casual remarks obscure the threats bubbling underneath a peaceful facade. You struggle to draw a breath, starting to feel light-headed as you try to claw at the grip on your neck. Even as your chest burns and your vision blurs, your eyes fixate on the parchment as you mouth the phrase "give it back."

As suddenly as it has started, the chokehold is gone. The Lord huffs with disapproval. His fingers loosen after his sister's discreet hand gesture. You fall on the ground, choking on your own spit as your body becomes greedy for fresh air. Your hand reaches out for the letter as if it were a lifeline. In a delirious state, you can only make out the embroidered hem of the Lady's dress. The patterns swirl in front of your eyes, digging out old memories you thought you had forgotten. In a dreamlike trance, you crawl to the Lady's feet, the cold stone floor beneath reminiscent of another time.

You are back at the King's castle once more. A long time ago. Before Mother was there. Before you could fight back. Tiny hands and bare feet, riddled with blisters and scabs. Groveling at someone's shoes, pleading for them to give you little food scraps. You no longer know what you are begging for, only an echoing desperation to protect your little peace.

Lady Maggie's demeanor shifts. Her feigning smile disappears as she looks down at you. While she has anticipated a response, the depth of your emotional upheaval catches even a seasoned strategist like her off guard, though she swiftly conceals her surprise. A delicate touch brushes under your chin. Lady Maggie lifts your face with deceptive grace.

"Now, care to enlighten us about the intended recipient of this letter?"

The coolness of her fingers brings you back to the present. Something in your head is gnawing at you, warning you to keep your secret. You do not understand. It should not matter whether you tell the Lady about your mother. And yet, you cannot help but feel a sense of dread, as if you were curling up, fearing you would be disemboweled by a great bear.

"I... it's... it's no concern of yours." You catch yourself stammering.

The Lady's smile widens, seemingly unoffended by your refusal to cooperate. "Oh, but I am genuinely curious. I did not mean to frighten you, my dear. It's my duty to know more about those under my care, after all."

As you hesitate, the Lord, who has been observing silently, interjects, "Get to the point! What are you trying to hide?"

The Lady shoots him a glance, a mix of annoyance and amusement dancing in her eyes. Ignoring her brother's impatience, she refocuses on you. "I promise, no harm intended. Just a little explanation to satisfy my curiosity."

You finally relent under the pressure.

"She's just an old healer, my Lady. She took me in and treated me like her own flesh and blood. I only write to ease her mind about my well-being."

The Lady shoots you an inquisitive eye that you cannot decipher. "Ah, the blood of the covenant is always thicker, is it not. I can only surmise your father wasn't particularly benevolent toward an illegitimate child."

You lower your gaze in response, your silence serving as a confirmation of the Lady's assumption. As she speaks, the Lord notices a rare glimmer of empathy in his sister's eyes. Well, even he pities you a little, not for whatever misery you went through but for the road you are being led down by his sister. He knows her well, and he understands her convoluted games even better. She pokes and prods until she uncovers people's weaknesses, then uses them to either control or break those who cross her path. But her showing guileless compassion? This is an unfamiliar territory even for him.

The silence lingers until a sudden knock echoes through the door, with the steward's voice soon following suit, announcing the arrival of the royal delegates. The Lord grimaces, a flicker of frustration crossing his features as he is not amused by the abrupt conclusion. He exchanges a secretive look with his sister before shifting his focus to you.

Lady Maggie nods at her brother, who maintains his ever-present frown. "Please escort your Lady to the Great Hall, my Lord. Let's not make our prestigious guests wait. I will join you later." Then, she turns to face you. Her words carry an unwavering seriousness, no pleasantries, no pretense.

"We'll resume this conversation when the timing is more fitting. However, bear in mind that whatever you were before, right now, you are Lord Gyllenhaal's wife. And every step you take will be subjected to scrutiny."

Your head lowers as you can only muster a quiet "Yes, my Lady" before the steward enters the chamber to help you back up on your feet. The Lady orders the woman to aid you in fixing your appearance into a more presentable state. Afterward, the steward leads you to the Lord, who awaits you in the hallway, seemingly lost in contemplation.

A swift glance is all he affords you before turning on his heel and taking long strides toward the Great Hall. That is your cue to follow. You make your best effort to keep up with the Lord's unforgiving pace but deliberately trail a few steps behind him, mindful not to stay too close. For whatever it's worth, you are grateful that he stays silent throughout the trip. His thoughts remain unknown to you while you take the time to admire the impressive breadth of his shoulders and his steadfast posture, reminiscent of a warrior marching to the battlefield.

On the way, you notice quite an unusual presence of heavily armed guards, roses insignia carved into their armor plates. The air is stagnant, and the festive mood of the previous days is replaced by caution. As the Lord and you approach the towering double doors of the Great Hall, your pulse quickens with the palpable uneasiness permeating the stone walls.

"Raise your head." A voice, as measured as it is unexpected, cuts through the silence. The Lord's command disrupts your thoughts, momentarily catching you off guard. It is the first time he has ever addressed you in such a manner, devoid of either contempt or revulsion. Instead, it reminds you of the words Lady Maggie told you last night.

Do not let anyone think that House Gyllenhaal is to be trifled with.

You are a lady of the House.

The Lord and Lady are indeed kin, you observe. They are different from each other in every way, and yet, at times, they are almost the same person.

As the heavy doors swing open and the servant loudly announces the Lord and his wife's arrival, you step into the grand chamber where the esteemed guests are waiting. Your eyes lock onto the royal delegates seated at the long table, their opulent attire embroidered in gold threads, contrasting the austere clothes worn by House Gyllenhaal's people. Two sides greet each other with false flattery, an intricate interplay of feigned courtesy and veiled intent.

The Lord leads you to the front, reserved for the heads of the family. His presence makes heads turn, though you can tell many of those gazes fall on you. This is only the second time you walk next to him as his wedded wife. You focus, keeping your posture poised and expression composed, trying to mirror the image he presents to his people and guests.

The delegates, sent by the King, rise from their seats and bow to the Lord in an exaggerated display of etiquette. Honeyed words drip from their lips, laden with poisonous insincerity. The Lord reciprocates with polite nods and faint smiles. You are somewhat surprised to see this stone wall of a man can be such a diplomat. Now that you think about it, he used to be a respected general in the King's court before the rebellion. He must have been no stranger to court intrigues.

Among the delegates, you catch the subtlest of glances, fleeting stares that linger for a heartbeat too long. You don't recognize anyone, but you have no doubt that a few of these nobles know your true identity as the King's bastard, a pathetic replacement for the real princess. Some of them can't even hide the condescension on their face. Even as they address you with the princess title, a trace of mockery flickers in their eyes.

"Your Highness, rest assured that we shall bring the news of your well-being to your father, the King. The magnificence of Goldenhall undoubtedly befits your greatness." One of the delegates gives praise, a middle-aged man whose smile, though broad, carries an underlying tone of sarcasm towards both you and House Gyllenhaal.

You hold your head high. Compared to the things you've heard, this is next to nothing compared to the spiteful words you heard. You reply with humility and ambiguity, avoiding saying too much as you have never had to participate in diplomatic affairs. It feels surreal to stand here on the same footing as the people who see your whole existence as a disgrace. Within these walls, they will not be so foolish to bare their fangs at you. You do not want to admit it, but you feel almost invulnerable with the Lord by your side, as strange as the idea is.

"Indeed, my wife is doing well. We are not the treacherous monsters who imprison and torture the guests coming into their homes." The Lord sneers with an edge to his voice, his words masking a touch of disgust. A wry smile appears as he raises his cup toward the delegate. The man returns the Lord's gesture with the same broad smile.

Before long, the musicians begin to play their songs, signaling that the feast has started. You finally get to see with your own eyes how the Lord and his people enjoy the festivity. Unlike the servants, whose idea of celebration is basically an abundance of food and drink, for the nobles, it involves people presenting their gifts and good wishes to the Lord's family. That, and the endless praises being thrown back and forth.

The whole event is exhausting. Your face and neck go stiff after having to smile and nod every other second. Even the Lord himself appears to be weary of the constant pleasantries. With the royal delegates' presence, he cannot allow himself to be reckless for even just a moment. One can tell Lady Maggie is definitely the more adept navigator of these delicate interactions.

Nonetheless, seeing how the Lord puts on such a courteous mask is very eye-opening. He appears to be much less threatening than he was during your wedding, that, or the wedding was much more miserable for him than practically anything else.

An old couple whose clothes are embellished with House Gyllenhaal symbols approaches, bearing a modest wooden box. With respect, they place the container before you, emitting a subtle fragrance of herbs. Inside the box are three rare flowers that exclusively grow far up north. The plants immediately pique your interest as you have only ever seen drawings in your mother's book.

"Milady, we hope you accept our humble offering. May you soon be blessed with the Lord's sweet fruit." The elderly woman speaks, her smile radiating warmth and kindness.

"Allow this old man to offer a piece of wisdom." Her husband, who seems to have had one too many drinks, turns to the Lord. "Children are important, yes, and hardly any pleasure in life can beat a woman's embrace. But please do not exert your wife. For the soil must be well tilted before the seeds can thrive." After his slight jest, the man holds his drink up to the Lord, provoking a chorus of laughter among the guests and a scolding from his elderly wife.

The words of the wife and husband send warmth surging to your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort. Surprisingly, the Lord appears unbothered, raising his cup to thank the couple for the gift. Instead, he leans over to you with his elbow on the armrest and his face resting lazily on his hand.

"My sister's handy work," He murmurs, his voice a hushed undertone meant only for your ears. You cast a quizzical glance in his direction, perplexed by his unexpected initiation of casual conversation. "I do not know what tall tales she has spun about you, but it seems to give the elders strange ideas," the Lord elaborates. "Whatever puts our elders at ease."

You don't know what to say, nor do you think the Lord wants your input. You have undoubtedly noticed a subtle shift in how you are regarded by House Gyllenhaal. Their caution around you still lingers, yet hatred has given way to a more neutral stance. You even receive the occasion curtsy from the lower-ranked members of the House.

The light of day in the winter is fleeting. Soon, the Hall begins to bask in the fuchsia hues of dusk. With a polite request, you ask permission to leave the chamber for fresh air, earning a nonchalant dismissive wave from the Lord.

As the chattering of the guests is left behind you, a moment of respite envelops your body and mind. In the crispness of the outside air, you finally find solace, and the pent-up breath you have been holding is released in a gentle exhale.

Without a destination in mind, you wander through the courtyard, feeling the chilling night air seeping through your clothes. In your solitude, your mind wrestles with your current situation. You have not forgotten the King's order to assassinate the Lord nor the threat hanging above your mother's life. But you have never had the gut or heart to commit such an act. You have no intention of taking anyone's life. And even if you did, getting the chance to do so would be an entirely different problem.

The mere thought of obeying the King's command sends shivers down your spine. The memories of your miserable life are hard to ignore. You want nothing but to stay far from this power struggle between House Gyllenhaal and the King, and to live your life in peace. But you understand with your circumstances right now, it is a luxury you know you cannot afford.

The letter is still in Lady Maggie's possession. Neither she nor her brother are going to simply trust your words. Your life under the King was pathetic, but people treated you with disregard, allowing you to just disappear. Here? You are, at best, a useless captive and, at worst, a threat. The only silver lining is when you are not playing the unwilling role of a princess, your life here is fine, good even.

A daring idea flashes through your mind. One doesn't have to be well-versed in politics to know that the peace between the King and House Gyllenhaal is incredibly fragile. This uneasy balance can shatter at any moment. When things come to that, you need to find a stable ground to stand on, and you know you will never achieve that by the King's side. Not that there was ever a place for you. If, and this is a big if, you are able to secure favor with House Gyllenhaal, it could guarantee your safety here and dispel a little bit of their ill will against you. Such an endeavor might improve your situation considerably. And then, maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to bring your mother here with you.

The problem? It's one thing to put on the servant's garb and duck your head to avoid being seen. It's another thing to actively support the King's enemy. Your sense of self-preservation keeps tugging at your soul. What terrible fate awaits you and your mother were the Gyllenhaal to fail? At times like this, you wish the old healer were here to tell you the right thing to do.

The biting cold reminds you that you must return to the feast soon. At least there is a large fire in there, you tell yourself. Looking around, you find yourself having wandered to the servants' quarter. The guards are spread thin in this part, and most servants are busy tending to the guests. You cup your hands over your mouth to warm them up before making your way back, not noticing a group of people wearing the King's symbols approaching.

"You are late, lady Maggie."

The Lord snorts, displaying his displeasure of being left alone fending against these diplomats. Lady Maggie lets out a hearty laugh, apologizing to the guests with a socially acceptable excuse. She then takes the seat beside the Lord, positioned opposite your now vacant chair. The Lord leans closer to his sister as the music and revelry shield their conversation from prying ears.

"What is it that you're scheming, sister?" The Lord inquires.

"Ah, is this about the girl?" The Lady lifts the cup to her lips, musing at her brother's annoyance. She takes a small sip, allowing the aromatic liquid to warm her from the inside. "Have you frightened her off, my Lord?"

The Lord scoffs at his sister's evasion of his question. "I am curious as to why you seem to take pity on her? Has House Gyllenhaal's ruthless strategist suddenly grown a conscience?"

The Lord expects his sister to retort with her usual witty remarks, but they are nowhere to be found. Instead, she falls into silence, pondering ideas only she herself knows of. After taking another sip of her drink, the Lady speaks in a soft voice while watching her distorted reflection within the ripples of the wine.

"Brother, I have been wondering. Would it not be easier to throw away something you do not want?" The Lady doesn't look up from her drink. She speaks as if to herself.

The Lord knows full well that she is speaking of you. He has not really given much thought about you unless he has to. However, his sister's question gives him pause. That's right. It should have been far simpler for the King to consign you to a family of peasants or abandon you in the forest. Why did he keep an illegitimate daughter all these years?

He glances at his sister, who is exchanging courtesies with several guests. He has so many questions but this place is not suitable for them. Well, he suspects Lady Maggie has already sent out her little ravens searching for information. This is not his domain to worry about, anyway. He never doubted his sister. When has she ever led him astray?

After all the ordeals you have gone through today, the last face you want to see is the one standing before you. You recognize this woman - the Head Maid from the King's castle, undoubtedly bringing back many unsavory memories.

"Oh my, isn't this our princess? Thriving, I see, unlike us humble servants." She stands at the forefront of a dozen servants brought here to serve the needs of the delegates, effectively blocking your path. You haven't seen them with their masters as they are not allowed in the Great Hall.

Wishing to avoid confrontation, you maintain a stoic expression, refusing to acknowledge her jibe, and press on, determined to walk past the group. However, a vicious force yanks on your arm, almost making you lose your balance. You glare at the Head Maid's chilling face. It reminds you of the past when her authority and cruelty loomed over you like a shadow.

"Why the rush, princess? Forgot your manners?" She sneers. The mockery in her voice sounds unpleasantly familiar.

Resisting the urge to retaliate and risk tarnishing the image of the Lord, you fume in silence, baffled by her audacity to assert power over you even beyond the castle walls. You are no longer the lowly bastard subjected to her whims.

You wince as she pinches your arm, something she often used to do any time she believed you were out of line, which is every time. As you attempt to push her away, a sinister grin twists the Head Maid's features as she deliberately invokes your mother's name.

"Well, well, princess. Perhaps you've forgotten the lessons I taught you." Her words are full of malicious intent, and her fingers dig into your arm like a crab's pincers. "I may be unable to teach you another lesson here, but mark my words. If you don't learn to behave, your mother will pay the price for your insolence."

Like a spark to dry hay, the threat ignites a torrent of anger within you. The frustrations of the day, the weight of your struggles, and the danger your mother has to face because of you all converge into an explosive outburst. You can no longer contain the seething rage that boils in your blood. Everyone wants something. You just want to be left alone.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you push the Head Maid away with a force that sends her tumbling into a freezing puddle. The unexpected defiance leaves the other servants stunned with disbelief. Clearly, the Head Maid's distasteful tales of your supposed powerlessness have given them the idea that you are underneath, and they never anticipated such resistance.

Some of them rush to help the sputtering woman up from the icy water, while others cautiously encircle you, uncertain what they should do. They look at each other with hesitation, for this place is not their territory, and your status is not exactly their equal.

"Make the bitch pay!" The Head Maid, shrieking at the other servants, declares that you must pay for your transgressions. The notion that even within the Gyllenhaal's fortress, the King's authority still holds sway takes root among royal servants. Tentatively, one of them reaches out to subdue you just as the guards arrive, alerted by the escalating commotion. However, they are not the only ones to have come.

The guards soon part to make the way for the Lord and the head of the delegates. You don't know how much of the unruly display the Lord has seen, but he has a look on his face you can only describe as "heads will roll tonight." You look down, fumbling with your dress, unsure what will befall you now.

The Head Maid, soaked and enraged, scurries to the delegate, seizing the opportunity to blame the altercation on you. She launches into a mad tirade, claiming the incident was an unprovoked attack when she was simply trying to greet you. A knot of anxiety tightens inside you as you can only stand there, unable to meet the Lord's gaze, grappling with the fear that your actions may have brought shame upon him.

"Come here." The Lord's voice cut through the wailing. Indeed, he sounds angry, but the anger is not directed at you. Furthermore, there is an underlying assurance in his words that steadies your racing heart. The chaos seems to recede as you approach him. His presence should be apprehensive but now oddly comforting.

"Tell me what happened?" He offers you a chance to defend your name, a gesture you did not expect. The residual rage clears your head, and the threat the Head Maid had made about your mother still rings fresh in your mind.

Rolling up your sleeves, you reveal the vivid red marks inflicted by the Head Maid, some even breaking the skin. "This woman attacked and threatened me. I had no choice but to defend myself,"

The Lord's brows knit together as he examines your injury. It seems his sister was right about your miserable life at the castle. He turns to the delegate, his voice grim. "Handle your people swiftly, or I'll deal with the perpetrator myself. I assure you, you will not like my methods."

Sensing the gravity of the situation, the delegate acts decisively. The delegate detests House Gyllenhaal, but he is not keen on upsetting them, at least not for the sake of a mere servant. The Head Maid's eyes widen at the turning tides. She opens her mouth to spew more of her venom but is immediately cut short with a resounding slap that almost causes her to fall again.

"Beg for the Lady's forgiveness, NOW!" The middle-aged nobleman orders.

The woman is flabbergasted. It finally clicks in her head that her master will not be on her side. The Head Maid reluctantly takes a step forward and bends her knees. Her usual arrogance crumbles, replaced by a forced submission. With a hesitating voice, she never imagined she would have to say to you, unwillingness evident in every syllable.

"I... I apologize, my Lady. I beg you to forgive my impudence." She mumbles insincere words.

"I want you gone." The words escape your mouth before you can rein them in. The metallic sound of a sword being unsheathed echoes, accompanied by the Head Maid's fearful cry. The Lord has drawn his sword and is aiming for the woman's neck. Realizing your sentence has been taken the wrong way, you catch the Lord's hand to prevent any more escalation.

"I... I mean, I want her out of my sight. I want her to leave the Keep." Desperation colors your voice as you tightly cling to the Lord's arm. He exhales sharply before sheathing his weapon in disappointment. The delegates had given him the urge to spill blood the whole evening, and he was really looking for an excuse, any excuse.

"I'll make sure this maid departs before dawn." The delegate rubs his hands together, relieved that this matter is finally resolved.

"Before midnight." The Lord commands.

One of Lady Maggie's servants comes forward, bringing a cape made of soft fur, and hands it to the Lord. He accepts the cape and drapes it over your shoulders, shielding you against the lingering chill. Of course, he completely ignores your sheer bewilderment. The unexpected gesture and the weight of the fur leave you awestruck.

"Return to your chamber. I'll have the physician look at your arm." The Lord instructs you. You are still so speechless that you can only nod. He then turns to the delegate and his servants, issuing a warning to those who even think about overstepping their boundaries.

"The moment she crosses those gates, she is no longer a princess or whatever she once was. She belongs to House Gyllenhaal and is under my protection. Tell your people to remember that."

Tag List:

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@boydhoebrook

#jake gyllenhaal x reader #maggie gyllenhaal x reader #fic: emblem of roses #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #maggie gyllenhaal fanfic #nat writes #fics #cw: rpf

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hereforreadandwrite · 2 months

Text

Chapter Four

Masterlist

You haven't been back to Sindri's house since Tire was liberated. You didn't want to face him. Thinking about this man always made you uncomfortable and tugged at your scars. You placed your hand against your shoulder. You didn't like it. You sighed, running your hands over your face. Have the Norns decided to challenge you? If so, they were really cruel to you. Although they told you once, they were just spectators of the spectacle that the Aesir Gods and mortals gave them.

So that was your life. A spectacle of tragedy that entertained the Norns.

“What a shitty life,” you muttered, slamming your knife into the belly of the deer you hunted.

You opened the poor beast's belly, removing its organs so you could harvest the meat. You were going to be able to last a few weeks with that. You froze as you felt a divine and threatening presence. You groaned as you approached the bucket full of water to clean your hands. You looked closely at your hands soaking in blood. The last time you had this much blood on your hands was when you took out your anger on a troll who had broken into the Valkyrie council. The creature didn't stand a chance against your rage and sadness. You remembered being covered in his blood from head to toe. You didn't get any satisfaction from this confrontation. You dipped your hands in the cold water, removing the blood from your hands.

You couldn't help but feel uncomfortable thinking about what happened in Svartalfheim. The liberation of Tyr did not bring you the relief and joy you hoped for. You dreamed so much of his return and you were disappointed by the reaction and behavior of the one who was your husband. No, this man was not your husband. Your husband was dead when he left your home for Asgard.

You grabbed your knife, moving closer to your game when you felt your hair stand up at the base of your neck. You saw a strange shape crossing the sky at full speed.

Had you dreamed or had you just seen Vanadís?

You dropped your work, rushing to the Mystique door. You walked through the door. You knew where she was going. You had heard the little boy talking about her with his father. If she was in such a hurry, that meant that Kratos and Atreus weren't far away. What could they have done to upset Vanadís? You passed the door arriving in front of a house. You heard the sound of weapons clashing when you heard Atreus screaming and bear howls. You rushed into the backyard to see Kratos holding back a grizzly bear.

"Atreus! You do not want this! Calm your mind. Control it!" he said holding the bear down. “She was our friend.”

Freya turned her back on the father and son. She was conflicted. Atreus returned to his human form. Kratos helped him up, asking if he was hurt. The Vanir Goddess felt rage invade her, her breathing accelerated. Freya screamed, turning to face Kratos. She used her Vanir magic, conjuring up a vine that wrapped itself around the rock next to the Spartan's head. The vine squeezed the rock until it exploded. Kratos protected Atreus from the flying stones. Freya faced them. Her rage was palpable. But she didn't always seem capable of killing someone. Was she still cursed or did she not have the courage?

"Maybe… for the moment… you're of no more use to me… alive," she said, putting away her sword.

Kratos stood up, grabbing Atreus' arm, forcing him to do the same. The Spartan ordered the teenager to return to Sindri's house. Which, obviously, Atreus didn't like. Not surprisingly, Sindri and Brok came out from behind a rock. You rolled your eyes as you saw Atreus' sidekick say they were taking him home and saw him bow to Freya. Kratos pushed Atreus towards the dwarves, telling them not to lose sight of him. You watched Sindri and the teenager pass not far from you. Atreus looked at you surprised to see you there, but Sindri made him understand that this was not the time to upset his father. The two headed towards the mystic gate, leaving Midgard. Something interesting seemed to have happened while you were gone. You returned your attention to the deities who were getting dangerously closer, sizing each other up with their eyes.

“What is it you want?” Kratos asked.

"I refuse to remain bound to this Realm. We travel to Vanaheim," Freya announced.

Vanaheim?

Wasn't that where Sköll and Hati were? Was it a Norn trick? But the dream you had. Did Tyr plan all this?

“(Y/N)?” Freya asked, looking at you in surprise.

You were brought out of your thoughts when you heard the Goddess. She was looking at you as if she had just seen a ghost. You looked at Kratos. The Spartan moved closer to your person, eyeing you severely.

"What are you doing here?"

"I saw a furious Goddess speeding past my house. Only Vanadís was in such a hurry. And it was only you she could fight," you said. while looking at Kratos. “You lost sight of your little boy again, didn’t you?”

“That’s none of your business,” he said, moving next to you.

"Of course. But your little one set something in motion. And there are some things I need to check out. I'm coming with it to Vanaheim. Your brother is still there right?" you asked, turning your attention back to Freya. “I have a few questions to ask him.”

"What do you want to know?" asked Kratos who was near Brok.

"I imagine you haven't been idle since… Tyr was freed. Am I wrong? I need to know what you found and what happened."

"For what?" asked Freya perplexed.

"Ragnarok is almost here. There are some things I need to know."

"Would you have a role to play during Ragnarok, daughter?" Mimir asked uneasily.

"I… I don't know. But in Vanaheim… there's one thing I have to see."

"What?" Kratos asked.

"I just need to go check something out. Without Tyr being around."

“You still don’t trust him?” asked Mimir.

"No."

“Tyr is alive?” asked Freya in surprise.

“Not really,” you replied, heading towards the mystical door. “This man is not Tyr.”

Freya gave Kratos a look that said they were going to have to discuss this. Brok finished opening the passage, allowing the group to travel to Vanaheim.

Vanaheim.

This Realm was a huge jungle, filled with dangerous vegetation that attacked any outsiders. The smell of humidity and plants invaded your nostrils. It was strange. The last time you came to this Realm was for Freya and Odin's wedding. Like everyone else, you had bitter memories of it. Everyone was angry with Freya and with Mimir. Freyr had caused a scandal during the ceremony.

"Oh no. Something's wrong," Freya said, snapping you out of your thoughts. "My spell. I can feel it slipping."

"Well. That's Fimbulvetr for ya!" Brok said.

"You don't understand. I'll be torn from the Realm."

“What can be done?” Kratos asked, looking at Freya who was muttering under her breath.

"Something I was hoping to avoid… Seems I have much choice."

Before everyone's eyes, Freya transformed into a hawk. Mimir asked her if she could circumvent Odin's spell from the beginning, to which the Goddess replied that she discovered it when they opened the passage between the realms. It was not a solution and this form was extremely restrictive for her. In this form, she couldn't fight.

The journey took place under Brok's stupid jokes and Mimir's answers. Kratos, Brok and you killed every plant that had become more aggressive with the humidity and creatures that emerged from the shadows to stop them.

Everything here was in ruins. Nothing has been rebuilt. Which saddened Freya.

Was it also surprising?

“Whare has everyone gone, I wonder…?” Mimir began, perplexed.

“They must have withdrawn. Hidden themselves out in the wilds, and covered their tracks with magic,” Freya replied. “No way of knowing how many are left, or how to reach them.”

“Aesir ran cockshod all over this place, huh?” Brok commented.

“You can thank Mimir for that,” Freya commented sarcastically.

“War with the Vanir was NEVER my idea!” exclaimed Mimir. “MY idea was brokering the marriage to end it!”

“A great success that was!”

“Like many of his ideas,” you said darkly.

"Darling. I assure you it was to protect you."

"Of course. Keep convincing yourself," you said with a chuckle.

"Enough! Let's keep moving," Kratos growled.

The rest of the trip was done in silence. The trio followed Freya through the Vanaheim jungle until Brok was caught by a trap that dragged him to an unknown location. You glanced at Kratos, who did the same. You and him were going to have to save Brok's blue butt. Kratos went first, telling you to be careful. You arrived in a deserted place. Brok hung in midair, grunting as he tried to free himself from the trap. Kratos told him to shut up. It was way too quiet.

"Now what do we have here? Ol' One-Eye send another God and to a little girl to do dirty work?"

You and Kratos turned towards a man who lit a torch, allowing you to see his face better. You recognized him as Freyr, Freya's brother.

“Thor too busy?”

"We do not serve Odin," Kratos said.

“No?” Freyr asked, moving closer. “Picked a dangerous place for sightseeing, then. Am I right?”

Freyr's men emerged from the shadows, surrounding the two coming. You made your sword appear, revealing your nightmarish form. You were ready to fight.

“This form and this sword,” Freyr said, eyeing you carefully. "Little Valkyrie. I never thought I'd see you again, kiddo."

“There are two of us, Freyr,” you said, getting into a fighting stance.

“Now, now,” said Mimir. "No need for threats."

"Oh. I know that voice…," Freyr said as Kratos unhooked Mimir from his belt so he could see him. "You know, I'd cut off your head… but it seems somebody beat me to it."

"Aye. Oh, quit watching, brother," the head replied.

"No, you're no brother of mine. You sold my sister to that… prick!"

“We brokered a peace!”

"Oh! Did you now? Where is it? Hmm? And where is my sister? Some dungeon in Asgard? Is she even alive? ANSWER ME!"

Freyr got too close to Mimir, Kratos pointed his ax at the Vanir God, making him understand that he was too close. Freyr laughed, backing away from the trap that held Brok. He took his weapon from his belt, saying that blood would flow. At that moment, Freya yelled for her brother to stop. She landed on a perch, looking down at Freyr who was looking at her perplexed.

"What is that? Why do you speak in her voice?" he asked without looking away from the hawk.

"It's me, Yngvi. There's no time to explain. Just listen. These person are in my service. I'm here to reclaim what's been taken from me."

"It's too late. You can't' undo what's been done," Freyr replied.

"I can. I will. Now let them pass."

Freya took off from her perch, leaving the camp. Freyr didn't take his eyes off her. He didn't seem to believe that his sister had returned to him. The Vanir God turned to the duo, asking if they served his sister. Kratos growled in response as you transformed back into your normal form, vanishing your sword. Freyr sneered, commenting that they were all serving her. He turned to Lunda, ordering her to free Brok from this trap. The dwarf brought her knife down on the rope, cutting it cleanly. Brok fell heavily to the ground. Kratos hooked Mimir back onto his belt. You approached Brok, helping him up while Kratos approached Freyr.

“Nothing broken?” you asked, helping Brok up.

"I'm fine. I've seen worse than that fall," he said, turning to Lunda. "What's with leaving me hanging like that, ya crusty hag?"

"Oh can it, Blábr! C'mere…," she said before giving Brok a hug.

"Well! Found who I was lookin' for. Think I'm gonna stay and catch up," Brok said before following Lunda to her forge.

“Oh, are you now?”

“Do as you wish,” you replied, watching the two dwarves walk away.

You sighed, going to join the Elves of Alfheim and a man dressed in armor and armed with a huge sword. You took a seat on a log, glancing at Freyr's henchmen. The man named Birgir told you that they wanted the camp to remain secret. You replied that it would stay that way. You weren't going to leave camp anyway. You didn't care what Freya was looking for. You just had to know something.

"Are Sköll and Hati in Vanaheim?" you asked, looking at Birgir.

"Why this question?"

"I just need to know if they are here and if there was any strange phenomenon. Wasn't there a solar eclipse?"

“It’s been several centuries since there was one,” Beyla replied, catching your attention. "The wolves continue to chase the Sun and the Moon. They are fine."

"I need to go check on them. I need to make sure they're okay. Where is their lair?"

“Whose lair?”

You jumped, turning to Freyr who was holding Mimir. The Vanir God settled down next to you, giving you back what was left of your father. You looked at Mimir uncertainly. You reached out your hand, taking the rope to place him at your side.

“I have to go see Sköll and Hati,” you said, looking at Freyr.

"For what?"

"I have to make sure they're okay and that nothing bad happens to them."

Freyr looked at Birgir, Beyla and Byggvir. The camp leader sighed and stood up, gesturing for you to follow him to the table. You grabbed Mimir, following Freyr who showed you a map. He explained to you which path you had to take to get to the wolves' den. Freyr looked at you intently. You took off your cloak, putting it in a corner, so you could tie Mimir to your waist. Your wings. No doubt a move from Odin. He remembered you. After all, you have always been the pride of the Valkyries and Mimir. Everyone knew you. He had seen you as a child. He even played with you and learned some pranks to play on your father. Until Heimdal decided to burn it and leave Asgard.

“Why do you want to make sure the wolves are okay?” Freyr asked, folding the map.

"I know they were imprisoned by Odin. I just need to make sure nothing curious happens," you said, heading towards the portal.

“Wait!” Freyr exclaimed, following you. "Are you sure it's a good idea to go alone? How long has it been since you last came to Vanaheim?"

“Do you think I’m that weak, Freyr?” you asked, stopping near the gate.

"I didn't say you're weak, little Valkyrie. I'm just saying it's not a good idea to go alone. Fimbulvetr hasn't spared this Kingdom and there are many Einharjes who is swarming around."

"You don't have to worry. After the Valkyries, someone else taught me some techniques," you said as you passed through the portal. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

You moved away from Freyr's camp, deep into the jungle of Vanaheim. You took the path indicated by Freyr. According to him, Sköll and Hati were not far away. Mimir glanced at you a few times. Should he speak or not? You were still mad at him. Well Named.

"Honey… I know you don't want to talk to me, but I wish you would listen to me. Your mother and I… we really thought we were protecting you by sending you back to Midgard. We wanted to keep you away from Odin and his madness. But… it didn't go as we hoped. I don't know what he did or how he was able to find you, but… I'm sorry. I couldn't protect you the way I wanted. The day he imprisoned me and cursed the Valkyries… they brought us your wings. Daughter… please. I want you to know, I'm sorry. This pain will torment me all my life. The only thing that calms me is knowing that you are alive."

You stopped when you heard Mimir's apology. He asked you for forgiveness? He wanted you to forgive him for abandoning you? You unhooked your head from your belt, placing it on a rock. Mimir could see from your expression that you were not happy with this request. You turned your back on Mimir, taking a few steps away. You ran your hands over your face, running them through your hair. Did he dare to ask you for forgiveness? He dared to make such a request to you?

“You and Mother forced me to return to Midgard,” you began softly, turning to Mimir. “You and Mother never came to see me. Never! You and Mother failed me! You You gave up without the slightest remorse! I was all alone! I had no one… do you know what I did when I found out that mother was locked up? I protected her. I did the only one that you and her didn't do. I stayed with her and protected that damn breach at the risk of my life! So no! No. I could never forgive you. Or her ."

Mimir sighed, dejected. Everything you just told him was true. It was normal that you refused to forgive him. With their statue as Sigrun's Queen of the Valkyries and Odin's role as advisor, they never had time to make sure you were well established in Midgard. He had been busy making sure the marriage between Odin and Freya worked to ensure some semblance of peace. Which has always been a big joke.

“That’s what I told myself when he took my wings and in Tyr when he found me,” you said with a sigh.

“I… I beg your pardon?” Mimir asked, looking at you surprised.

You approached the rock where you had placed Mimir. You sat down in front of him, looking him over. Mimir was struck by your state. Since he was able to see you again, this was the first time he was able to see you properly. Your eyes were watery, you had dark bags under your eyes, that sparkle of mischief that you had as a child was gone. You have become a woman tired of this miserable life. You sighed, running your hands over your face.

"I obeyed. I returned to Midgard. I knew that you and mother wanted to protect me from Odin. But that wasn't enough. Do you want to know what he did? He pretended to be you. He took on your appearance and I let my guard down. That's how he managed to take my wings. When he did… I called. . You and mother… I called for someone to come and help me…"

“But no one came…”

“No… no one,” you said, sighing. "I found Mother's breach. I tried to ignore her, but… I kept coming back to her. I couldn't… get used to the idea to left her alone and helpless. Until Tyr found me and helped me. He trained me. He loved me. He saved me. I was happy again. But so was he, he abandoned me. That man at Sindri's… he's not my Tyr. He's not my husband."

"But… that doesn't explain why you want to see Sköll and Hati."

"I had a dream not long ago. I was with Tyr. We were going hunting and then… he disappeared. At that moment, a lightning bolt tore through the sky and everything became red. The moon was hiding the Sun. Then I saw two pairs of eyes and some growling noises and in the end, Tyr appeared and asked me to help him."

"It's strange. A premonitory dream perhaps," replied Mimir perplexed. "You helped Tyr, in a way, and we're going to see the wolves. But an eclipse? That's strange. I'll think about it, darling."

“Thank you,” you said, smiling at Mimir. “Father.”

"I'll make it up to you (Y/N). I promise."

"No offense. You're just a head," you said, getting up and picking up Mimir.

"Ah! It doesn't just take brawn to succeed, Darling. I thought I taught you that."

“Yes, but from time to time, you have to know how to hit.”

“Okay, you’re right about that.”

You let out a light laugh as you attached Mimir to your waist. You set off again, finally reaching the wolves' den. You saw the wolf Hati who was sleeping. Sköll was still chasing the Sun. You slowly approached Hati. The wolf's ears twitched as he heard you approach. You kneeled in front of him. Hati raised his head, looking at you perplexed. At first glance, he seemed fine. You sat down, sighing in relief. Maybe the dream you had was nothing more than a dream. You held out your hand towards him. The giant wolf brought its snout closer, sniffing a little before standing up. You did the same, following him to the edge of the cliff. Hati sat up, looking at you with his red eyes. He began to scream before chasing the moon, giving way to the Sun. Sköll will run towards you, landing next to you. The wolf looked at you perplexed as you offered him your hand. He sniffed for a few seconds before going to lie down in his den, waiting for his brother to finish his endless chase.

“They are fine,” Mimir said. "It seems your dream is just a dream, daughter."

“Maybe,” you said, looking at Sköll.

"It's been a while since you've been away from camp. It's better to go back before they worry."

“Yes.”

You looked at Sköll one last time before leaving their lair to return to Freyr's camp. You were relieved to know that the wolves were okay. So why did you have this dream? It did not make sense. No, you didn't have to think about it anymore. You walked through the camp gate to see Freya and Freyr hugging. Apparently you missed something. You moved closer to Kratos, unhooking Mimir from your waist to return him to the Spartan.

"You finished?" you asked, looking at Kratos.

“Yes.”

“What’s the verdict?” Mimir asked.

“She will help us,” Kratos replied, looking at Mimir. “Did everything go well?”

“Oh yes,” the head replied. "Very well even. Now what? What do we do?"

"We're going back," Kratos replied, hanging Mimir back on his belt. "And you?"

"I'm coming. I have to do something," you replied uncomfortably.

"You want to talk to him? Are you sure?" asked Mimir worried.

“Yes, you have to.”

"I'm ready to go," Freya announced, approaching the group. "(Y/N)? Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes. I have nothing more to do here."

"We're going back," Kratos said as he headed towards the entrance to the camp.

"Hey little Valkyrie! Come back and see us soon!" Freyr exclaimed.

"Yes, Freyr. I'll think about it," you replied before catching up with Freya and Kratos.

You liked Freyr, but he was always so loud and exhausting. At least it seemed that he and Freya had reconciled, and she and Kratos seemed to have put their differences aside. It was a good thing. At least, you hoped so. Now there was one thing left for you to do.

Talk to Tyr.

Just thinking about it made you uncomfortable. You felt your stomach twist and your hands become sweaty. It was so strange that you felt this way when thinking about your husband. You had to stay focused on your goal. But there was also another problem. According to Mimir, Atreus had disappeared for two days and he refused to say where he had been. This did not please the Spartan who announced that the boy was going to tell him everything and that there was nothing to add. Mimir looked at you, commenting that this was the famous Spartan diplomacy. But Freya's question sent shivers down your spine.

"Wait… did you say Odin invited him to Asgard and then he disappeared for two days?" asked the Goddess worriedly.

"What? Are you kidding?!" you exclaimed. "Odin invited the little boy to Asgard?!"

"Aye… but surely the lad's got more sense than to-" Mimir began before being cut off by Freya.

"Don't underestimate Odin's powers of persuasion. He filled my son's head with lies. Why wouldn't he do the same with yours?"

“It’s not just persuasion,” you said darkly. "If he feels that your little one is an obstacle to his plans, he will not hesitate to make him disappear. He has no limits."

“That too,” Freya replied softly, watching you struggle.

You preferred to ignore the look Freya gave you. You didn't need his pity. Not after all this time. You walked through the door, arriving in front of Sindri's house. Brok was arguing with Bitter Squirrel, one of Ratatoskr's alteregos. Kratos ignored the argument and entered the house. You followed the Spartan, with Brok and Freya. Kratos wasted no time entering his son's room. Sindri left the room, visibly upset. You went to sit at the table when Atreus came out of his room insulting his father. You heard Mimir exclaim that this was not how he was going to change his father's mind.

It looked bad.

"He doesn't have any faith in me! It's fine of he keeps secrets. It's fine is Mom did," exclaimed Atreus who came to sit at the table.

“It is NOT fine,” Kraots replied harshly as he followed his son. “Her secrets haunt every step of this path.”

"Oh, okay. So you don't believe in her anymore either?"

“His is not about your mother!” Kratos exclaimed, placing Mimir on the table. “What you have done is lie.”

“Wonder where I learned that?” the boy replied sarcastically.

“That’s quite enough!” exclaimed Mimir.

“Since when do you away take his side?” Atreus asked, looking at his angry head.

"Since he became the one making sense."

In the meantime, Tyr had approached the table. A pot full of stew in his hands.

"Look… I was only thinking about going to Odin. But I swear it's for a good reason…," explained the young man.

“There is no good reason to go to Odin,” Freya replied, approaching.

“He’ll only cloud your mind,” Tyr continued.

"But I'd be going for us. I gotta stop something bad from happening."

“Something bad did happen!” exclaimed Mimir, attracting the attention of the dwarves who approached in turn. "LOOK AT ME! At Freya. At Tyr. At (Y/N)! Odin did this to us!"

"What's got everyone caterwaulin' all a sudden?" Brok asked as he approached Atreus.

“Atreus wants to go Asgard,” Sindri replied.

"Asgard? Did he get kicked in the head or something?"

"Great. I guess everyone's against me now," Atreus growled, glaring at his father.

"You must choose who you are going to be," Kratos replied, approaching his son. "Are you going to continue to lie and keep things from me? Or are you my son?"

As he spoke, Kratos placed his hand on Atreus' shoulder. Hoping that his words finally reach him. But it didn't seem to have any impact on the boy. If anything, it seemed to upset him even more.

"Choose? I never get to choose. Just leave me alone."

Atreus wanted to walk away and end this discussion. But Kratos didn't think so. He grabbed the boy's arm, ordering him to listen. Atreus yelled at him to let go. He violently pushed Kratos away, but with his rage, he transformed into a bear. Freya rushed to Kratos, helping him up. Tyr had dropped the pot, grabbing your arm to pull you towards him. Unluckily for Sindri, Atreus was standing in front of him. The dwarf tried to reason with the boy. Without success. Atreus violently pushed him away with his paw before fleeing and breaking down the door of the house. He was running away. Kratos rushed to the door as Freya and Brok rushed to Sindri's side. You tried to break away from Tyr's hold, but he refused to let you go.

"He might come back," he said nervously.

"Let go of me!" you cried, pushing him away and watching him get annoyed. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

You quickly moved away from Tyr, approaching Sindri, Freya and Brok. According to the Goddess, there was nothing serious about the dwarf. Just scratches. Which was a relief in care. Your attention landed on the door. Kratos stood in the doorway. His fists were clenched and you seemed to see sparks flying. The Spartan slammed his fist against the doorway, making the house shake. You looked from Kratos, to Freya healing Sindri, to Brok who was cursing, and to Tyr who was standing nervously in the back of the room. You sighed, massaging your temples which were becoming sore.

And now what would happen?

Tag: @ladycrowsworld

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