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eratosmusings · 2 months

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Loyalty (I)

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!reader

summary: the king decides it's time for his brother to produce more targaryen heirs. who better than another hightower daughter to carry them?

warnings: adults only, all characters over 18, dubcon smut in later chapters, arranged marriage, abortion allusion (moon tea), coercion, terrible parenting

word count: 2.3k

dividers

“I won’t allow it.”

“You won’t allow it?” Viserys asks with an air of frigid humor. “Who are you to deny your king what he has commanded?”

Otto seethes, decades of practiced court manners faltering under the demand. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but she is my daughter. I will not have her married off to a man whose love of violence and debauchery trails him like a shadow. She is a pious child. To marry her to Daemon is—“

“A blessing. She will marry a prince and a valiant knight.”

The other men at the table are silent. They'd expected talks of reinforcing the kingdom's claim on the Stepstones or of quelling rumors that had cropped up of Daemon corrupting his young niece in a brothel a year prior. The king commanding a marriage between Otto Hightower's youngest daughter—his only child from a tragically short second marriage—is an unpleasant surprise.

"He is already married."

Viserys gives a taut smile. "Daemon's marriage to Lady Royce has been annulled. By royal decree and with the blessing of the High Septon. It is in the best interest of Westeros that the Targaryen line remains vast and strong and it has been decided your daughter will do what Lady Royce did not."

Otto's face falls in disbelief. He's heard nothing of it. This had been set up to corner him. "She is a child."

"She is nearly four years older than Alicent was when we wed. The queen has proven your daughters are strong vessels for Targaryen children."

"It is different. She is different. She is not as strong as Alicent."

The king shakes his head. "I will hear no more discussion of this. She will wed Daemon and this feud between the two of you shall end once and for all.”

Alicent’s touch is feather-light as she takes hold of your hands. Her eyes wander across your form, taking in the exquisite ivory gown. Its crimson embroidered dragon along the skirt a special request from your soon-to-be husband. “You look beautiful, sister.”

You can say nothing to your half-sister, barely able to retain the tears brimming in silence. A fortnight was all you’d been given to prepare to wed the vilest creature in Westeros. Daemon Targaryen was all you could have ever hoped against in a husband.

Your father stands tall behind Alicent, head held high. "The image of the Maiden herself."

A choked sob escapes you at his words. This marriage was punishment by the Seven for every sin you'd ever committed. For the impure thoughts you'd had of knights. The white lies you'd spoken to save yourself the wrath of Septa Agerrea. The gambling you'd participated in when you’d bet your favorite embroidery needle in a game of cards with Lysa Tyrell. Had you only followed the Faith more faithfully, this torture would not be yours to endure.

“I believe it is time to take your place with the king, Your Grace,” your father says.

Alicent hesitates with glossy eyes. She draws you into a tight hug and whispers an apology and how much she loves you. You have the faintest memory of her wedding to the king a few years before. The happy sister who’d spent hours braiding your hair when the handmaidens failed to do it properly disappeared into a hardened queen round with child seemingly overnight. The smiles and giggles you’d shared daily turned to fond, distant memories. She withdraws a moment later, wiping at her face.

When the door shuts your father moves behind you. You watch in the ornate mirror as he drapes the green maidencloak of House Hightower across your shoulders. The new burden's weight feels uncomfortable.

He returns to stand before you, his expression sorrowful. "I am sorry, my sweet child, for this atrocity. You deserve far better.”

“I could have saved myself this fate had I been less worldly and become a Septa.” Your palm wipes at the tear that had fallen.

He cups your cheek. “Perhaps. But we cannot lament on what we could have done. Indeed we must focus instead on your duty to the realm.”

“To be a good wife,” you state. It was what he had raised you to be.

“No, sweet child,” he says softly, “I fear that I must ask something far more difficult of you. For your duty to the realm must supplant your duty in marriage.”

The wedding takes place in a haze. You tremble, stumble over words, and can not meet the eyes of your now husband nor the Septon. Soon you would betray them both.

For the good of the realm.

You do not eat or drink through the feast. You barely speak. You think you might have danced, though all you remember of it is a blurring background and an embroidered dragon that matches your own. It had stared at you accusingly.

“Shall I call for the bedding ceremony to begin, brother?” the king slurs loudly. If there had been anything in your stomach, it surely would have come out now. It was one vile thought to have him touch you. But to have other men undress you as well?

Your hand is pulled from your lap, enclosed in another twice its size, callous and rough against your skin. For the first time that day you look at your husband. You’d never seen him this close. The lavender gaze cannot have been of this world. It’s too vibrant, too knowing. “Too many of the men here have wandering hands. I’d hate to spill blood on such a blessed day.” His lips brush against your hand. “My sweet wife should not have to endure such tragedy.”

The king responds dismissively. Something of disappointing guests, but to do as he pleases. Daemon takes it as a dismissal and pulls you from your seat. The last thing you hear is the call from many about bloody sheets.

Perhaps the Mother has decided to take mercy on you. For you cannot breathe as the doors to the prince’s chambers close behind you. Death can take you before he can.

He stands in front of the fire, pouring some drink into a goblet. The flickering orange light suits him. Like he was born for flames. “You must relax. There is nothing for you to fear from me.” A lie. There was much to fear from him.

A booming knock echoes through the room.

“Enter.”

Two servants carrying trays of bread and fruit enter. Then they are gone just as swiftly. The door closes once more.

“You must eat,” he says, taking your hand once more and leading you to a small table. You sit and a piece of bread is offered. You take it and, after an expectant nod, take a bite. It’s still warm and soft. You take another bite. And another.

It’s gone quickly. Too quickly for a lady. A bowl of berries clatters softly in front of you. You pick at it slower, though not as slowly as you’d like. They are sweet. Perfectly ripe.

“Would you like some wine?”

Despite the juice of berries coating your tongue, your mouth is dry as you speak for the first time since you’d said your vows. “Yes, please.”

“So well mannered.” A smug smile spreads across his face as he raises his goblet and sips. He reaches over and sets it down beside the half-empty bowl. “I forgot to have them retrieve another cup.”

The crimson red liquid ripples. A challenge.

“You are very gracious, my Prince. Thank you.” You lift it by the stem and drink. It was stronger than you’ve ever had before. The taste takes you aback, coughing as it soaks your tongue. Hastily you set the cup back down.

"I take it you don't often indulge in Dornish Reds."

"No, never."

His head cocks to the side appraisingly. "I suppose such a thing has never been offered to you before. Not within the confines of your father's authority. He has given you a rather sheltered life."

A prickly heat seeps up your neck. "My father did not confine or shelter me. He has only ever guided me to live as virtuously as the Seven wished for all their children to live.”

“How very kind of him to not let you endure the same vices as himself.”

You blink, his words sinking in. The implication that your father is a drunkard stings. He isn't, but you don’t fight his accusation. Selfishly, you do not wish to defend your father. Instead, you pluck a berry from the bowl, hoping to end the conversation entirely.

"Are the berries quite good?"

You nod, not wanting to speak again.

"Might I have one?" When you go to pick up the bowl, he stops you. "Pick me out the best one."

The best one? The bowl is still half full. Which berry was the best? Would he be disappointed if you picked one he did not like? Or one that was not ripe enough? Not sweet enough? What would he do to you if he disliked the one you chose?

It was the largest blackberry that you finally settle on, prepared to hear how terrible the choice had been as you hold it out to him. He doesn't simply take it. He leans over the table, taking the berry and your fingers into his mouth.

The act is heinously intimate. It leaves you frozen and breathless as he pulls away, his eyes alight in devious amusement. "I'm not sure which taste I prefer. The berry's or your's."

Fire spreads across your cheeks. You flinch away, embarrassed. In the escape effort your arm knocks against the goblet. To your horror, it clatters against the table. The liquid sloshes across your front, staining the white gown.

The crimson seems to seep from your womb, condemning you for something you had yet to do. You paw at the stain as the chair clatters on the ground from the force with which you'd stood.

Tears brim in your eyes as it continues to spread.

“There's no need to fret. It is only wine.”

“I have desecrated it.” The tears have not stopped falling and your hands have not stopped scrubbing at it with your fingers. “The stain will never come out.”

“It is only a dress.” He cups your face, encouraging you to meet his gaze. It searches for some understanding.

He would never understand.

“I am so sorry, my Prince.”

He shushes you softly and places a kiss against your forehead. This was the monster? The vile, unholy beast whose every action was an affront to the Seven? This man who had shown you nothing but kindness?

You cry harder.

He is not the monster.

You are.

You aren’t sure how long you cry. But he holds you through it all. He speaks little more than a few consoling phrases, but it is more than you deserve. His presence, arms around you, kisses on your hair. All of it more than you deserve.

You’re finally calm, only left with sniffles, when he says, “We should get the dress to the washwomen before the stain sets.” What good would it do? The stain can never be removed from your soul. Still you agree and turn for him.

His fingers are swift as they loosen the strings of your bodice. Practiced. He is practiced. Behind closed doors you assume, but there were numerous tales of his public debauchery. It has been gossiped that he prefers the thrill of open affairs and touches of multiple women.

“Why did you refuse the bedding ceremony?”

He pauses. “Did you wish to have one?”

“No,” you say quickly. “But given your…tendencies I…I thought…” A quiet hum has your words trailing off.

His work continues, though slower. “You are not a whore in a brothel.”

“Neither is your niece and yet...”

Air blows across your neck as he chuckles. “Has my pious little wife been gossiping about the chastity of the Crowned Princess?”

Your lungs seize at the realization of what you’d just said. It’s treason. Questioning her virtue is treason.

“Relax, jaesa.” His hands slip between the shoulders of your shift and the loose gown, pushing the sleeves down your arms. “I took you under my protection today. You may speak freely to me.”

“I,” you hesitate, freeing your hands of the garment, “I had heard that a year ago you snuck the princess from the castle and—“

He bunches the fabric at your waist and tugs. “Had my way with her in some brothel?”

“Yes.”

The gown struggles for a moment, snagging on the curve of your behind. Another tug and it is a pile around your feet. “My niece wished to see King’s Landing. I showed her and returned her to the castle, still a fair maiden like yourself.”

“Of course.”

“You doubt me?”

“No, my Prince.”

"It would do a great disservice to our union to begin it with lies." He prompts you to turn and hesitantly you do. He is shorter than your father, yet his presence is as commanding. More so. It makes you aware of how thin the fabrics of your shifts were when his gaze drifts down. "My niece's heart belongs elsewhere. As do my desires."

His touch is gentle as he cups your cheek, but the feeling's it stirred are rough and uncertain. Bordering on traitorous.

“Shall I call a servant to fetch the dress?” The words waver. You wonder if they’re comprehensible at all.

They are, it seems as he rejects the offer and slips out the door himself with the dress. The reprieve from his watchful, astute eye is welcome. You fall to your knees at the edge of the bed and recite the prayer your father had taught you minutes before you’d been led down the aisle.

Warrior, give me strength for what I must do. It is for the good of the realm.

Mother, forgive me for what I must do. It is for the good of your faithful servants.

Stranger, lead my children to peace. It is for the good of their innocent souls.

a/n: all your thoughts and reblogs are appreciated 🌺

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 month

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Hey :) Hope you're doing well, I read some of your Aemond fanfics, and they were great. I was hoping you could write a Jacaerys x Alicent daughter fanfic. Something about an arranged marriage, you can take it anyway you wish, but could there be some angst in there. with the prompts 1. ‘’My blood is not noble enough for a prince.’’ and 14. ‘’I’m not used to this. Being a wife.’’

Thank you :)

Request: Alicent’s second daughter to marry Jacaerys to unite the houses

Thank you for the compliment on my Aemond fics <3 More will be coming soon. Also, I was not able to use the first prompt as it doesn’t work with the characters. Alicent’s daughter’s blood is more noble than Jacaerys since her father is king and his mother is princess. I hope you still enjoy what I wrote for you <3

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Twenty years ago, when Viserys made Rhaenyra his heir, the knights and houses who swore allegiance to him had no choice but to accept her as their future queen. She was the king’s only child. But now that the king had a male heir — and a spare —, there were possibilities that people would oppose her claim to the throne and demand Aegon to wear the crown.

To prevent the situation from happening, the king and queen, along with Rhaenyra, made an accord that Rhaenyra would ascend the throne following the king’s death, but to unite the houses, the princess’s firstborn son — and heir — would marry Alicent’s second daughter and, one day, inherit the throne together.

Like any political marriage, you nor Jacaerys had a choice or say. At least he wasn’t an older lord you had met once or twice. You knew Jacaerys — a little. He was kind, loyal and protective. He was a good man.

Prior to that arrangement, your grandsire, Otto, had been talking to you about having a tourney to meet suitors, but your mother had been quick to oppose to the idea. She didn't want you to be the victim of his scheming like she had been at your age.

You were drawing under the weirwood tree when Jacaerys stepped into the yard, having just arrived in King’s Landing. Its red leaves matched the color of your dress, making him smile. He liked you in red.

‘’I was told by the servants that my wife was out here.’’

Immersed in your drawing, you didn’t hear the prince approaching. You only glanced up when you heard your new title, the sound of his voice almost making you drop your charcoal onto your dress. Your mother would have been furious.

A soft laugh left your lips. Moons have passed since the wedding, yet being called a wife still felt strange. ‘’I’m not used to this. Being a wife.’’

‘’Me either,’’ Jacaerys admitted. ‘’What are you drawing, Princess?’’

You reflected his smile as he approached. ‘’Just some birds.’’

Jacaerys walked up to the tree and sat beside you. He had a bit of dirt on his jacket from sparring with Ser Criston in the training yard.

‘’How was your training session with Ser Criston?’’ you asked, raising a hand to run through the front of his hair, fixing an unruly curl that was on the wrong side.

The older he got, the more he looked like Ser Harwin Strong. He had the same dark brown curls. But you would never dare saying that out loud. Although you meant it as a compliment, the mere insinuation of his illegitimacy was a vile insult to the crown — to the princess.

‘’I disarmed him twice…and I ate some dirt.’’ The brunet grimaced, the earthy taste still lingering on his tongue. ‘’It was a blessing that no one was watching.’’

‘’Mayhaps you need an opponent that is closest to your age?’’ you suggested, not finding it fair that he was sparring against a grown man who had years of practice as a knight. ‘’You could ask Aemond to train with you? He is training for the upcoming tourney, but I’m sure he would a accept to help you.’’

Jacaerys hummed, then leaned back against the weirwood tree, taking a moment of rest. He watched with quiet admiration as you continued your drawing, fascinated by the way you could, with a few strokes of charcoal, illustrate pretty much anything. Birds, flowers, dragons, or portraits of your family.

Much like your twin brother, you favored solitude over socializing. When the betrothal was announced to you, you assumed that this tranquility would be disrupted, but it turned out that Jacaerys enjoyed it too. Partially. While he often thrived on the excitement and duty that came with his heir title, he found it relieving that he could find peace and comfort in your silent company.

‘’I’m going back to Dragonstone in the morrow,’’ the prince announced, breaking the serenity of the quiet.

‘’How long for?’’

Jacaerys shifted, fearing the conversation that was to come. ‘’No. I’m going back to Dragonstone…permanently.’’

You stopped drawing, a sudden knot forming in your stomach. ‘’And what of me?’’

‘’You can join. Or not. That is up to you.’’

‘’And what of us? What of our marriage, Jace?’’ you asked, turning your head toward him.

When you got wed in the tradition of Old Valyria, you pledged to one another that you were one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Jacaerys returning to Dragonstone would break your duties to your House.

‘’Dragonstone is easy to travel from and back on dragonback.’’ You began picking at your fingers, and Jacaerys noticed, taking your hand in his to stop you. ‘’I tried, but King’s Landing is not my home. I don’t belong here.’’

‘’I can’t leave my family.’’

‘’I left mine for you.’’

You pulled your hand from his hold and narrowed your eyes at him. Jacaerys moving to King’s Landing after the wedding ceremony was your father’s idea, not yours. How dared he blame you for a decision you didn't make?

—

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

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To Hunt a Silver Stag (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Knight!Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Fae Princess!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 6.9k

WARNINGS: Arranged marriage, talks of childbirth, traditional views of women & men in medieval times, talks of war, death, heavy religious imagery/symbolism, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wore a crown of deer antlers atop your head. Charms were woven into the gaps between the tines, attached to golden thread; jewels of starlight strung like teardrops from the moon. Your feet, staying still on the hard stone of the Great Hall, are bare though attract no dirt or dust—it is as if the very ethereal aura that coats your gown of pure white repels any such thought of uncleanliness or corruption of this mortal plane.

You are so very far from home.

Standing in the center of your soon-to-be husband’s court, your eyes seem not to be on the man himself, who watches you greedily from the throne of black iron, but instead behind him. Blank of any emotion, your long lashes blink in the direction of the stained glass windows with a horrible longing. Whispers from the multitude of court attendants go in one ear and out the other—useless to you. Their time would be gone in a blink, and yet here you would remain, immemorial. Their words were nothing, and their utterances would turn to dust faster than their bodies would.

You can’t help but wonder if those colorful depictions in that glass window, of God and his valiant angels, are mocking you as you blink at them slowly. Not only for what you are and where you now find yourself in the kingdom of your enemies but for being so full of the very qualities that would normally resign a woman of this age to the stake.

Independent, confident, and curious, among others.

A voice raises above the rest, and your eyes blink elegantly, the silver hue to them unnatural in all senses. Yet, you do not look away from the mighty white stag, its soldered bits of thin glass a patchwork of an overwatching Lord. Saint Eustace is there, staring at it, just as was told from generation to generation.

A pagan man converted to Christianity, the symbol of a cross set between antlers very much like the ones adorning your head. Humming under your breath, your eyes dip down, chin moving. Below the window, there stands a tall knight, and your gaze locks with his softly.

“Today,” the King’s voice echoes over the crowd as brown orbs stare at you, blinking. “We are here to celebrate the joining of two great bloodlines!” He stands with a grand cape over his shoulders, falling to the floor as his boots stand at the top of the stairs to the throne. Yet, this knight holds your attention more than your Promised does as the cheering starts, loud; making your ears twitch.

At your waist, a golden belt is engraved with expert attention, stories woven into metal that even seem to move with the magic embedded into it. It seems to hum with an energy that makes your eyes narrow in confusion upon this stranger.

He had brown eyes, the knight, and the hues reminded you of brown that you could see in the trees of your home—those old beasts that grew still with the magic of your line and your gentle touch. Surrounding him, there was silver armor and a strip of red fabric that went over one shoulder, hanging beside the items of his station; a sword and a dagger on a brown leather belt.

Brows furrowing, your head tilts slowly, unblinking, as the eye contact persists.

A bold man, it seems.

The knight’s eyelids slightly widen, as if realizing he had been staring, and his face swiftly moves to the side, his short hair close to his oval skull. You hear the faint clearing of a throat come into the shell of your pointed ears.

Sighing, your focus returns to the matter at hand, the crown’s adornments clinking together as your head rotates. The speech.

King Michael spreads his hands out, a man far into his older years but still had the gleam of malice in his eyes. Those beady things. They remind you of a rat—a small creature, while intelligent, that cannot win unless through tricks.

“We all know that magic has slowly been disappearing from the lands,” the King utters, voice echoing off the walls. Your hands are holding themselves near your abdomen, grace embedded into your bones. Watching how he speaks, you can’t deny he was influential. But influence didn’t matter when you had no wife—no children. He has a dying line, and that means weakness…which is why you’re here, after all. “And in that time, our war with the Fae has fallen into a stalemate.”

Your expression sharpens, fingers twitching. Stalemate? There were humans in your lands—spreading their fires and swinging their defiling iron swords. There was no war here except the one that this King was perpetuating.

But you held your tongue, even if your silver eyes narrowed in an ancient, bitter, anger. Your head raises itself higher, hanging gemstones swinging. The knight near the stained glass is back to watching you—his feet shifting from under him, hands behind his armored back with loose shoulders.

“...Today, myself and the King of the Fae have come to an agreement in confidence, and in the fashion of old, I am to be wed to his daughter, a princess!” Gasps, cheers, clapping. They spring up from all corners of the Hall, bouncing. Your body longs for nature, to be away from rock and metal, these suffocating walls that close in with the gaggle of wretched corpses walking. “Peace shall be beholden to all of us! Magic shall come back into my bloodline through our many children, and all will share in its wealth!”

You had compared yourself to a broodmare when your father had given the news of your journey here. A womb to be filled until you could give no more; restrained to a bed—away from any privilege and right.

And you’d been sent here anyway. A price needed to be paid, your father had told you. A daughter to stop the war. A child to bring back mortal magic and keep the peace through generations. Was your head to be put to the block for that? Who was to say that children would bring peace? That there weren’t more conflicts to come?

This was a momentary sacrifice, and here you were wearing white.

You hum under your breath and feel shackles tie themselves to your ankles; tying you to this place. But what other option did you have?

Your ears listen to the loud rapturous cheering, the exclamations of love that mean nothing to you—you do not love these people, do not love their need for violence and their pride. You want to go home, to find where you can rest among glades and grass. Converse with the birds and the beasts to learn of their news of far-off lands; run your hands through clear streams and watch plants grow where you walk.

As your stone body stays still, silver eyes unblinking, the knight near the window is the only man in the room not gazing at you like he wants something from you. While Lords have their eyes filled with lustful envy of your age-less skin—your finery and wealth; the promise of strong children, the knight is the only one with an open expression.

He only watches, handsome face holding the whispers of stubble and eyes that would make many moral women wish to be his wife.

Admittingly, your attention keeps going back to him, just as his own is stuck on you even as he tries to look professional. Back straight, armor glinting, sword pommel fiddled with by long fingers.

The King is walking down the stairs, one withered leg at a time. You don’t offer any help.

“My bride,” Michael licks his lips when he’s in front of you; but he’s more fixated on your stomach than all else. What it will hold for him. “My beautiful Fae bride. My wedding will be known through history for ages to come.”

My.

The world holds its breath. The knight’s jaw clenches, though no one sees it.

You take a heavy breath into your lungs to hold back your snapping tongue. As the words meet the air, they come out as unemotional as a wave at sea. Wind holding mist.

“Certainly.”

—

As it turned out, the castle itself was even less homely than the material that was used to build it. You walk slowly through the halls, hands behind your back and your crown glimmering—the trail of a thin and flowing gown making you look like a specter. One crudely carved window after another passes by your right shoulder, and you look out of every slit; seeing the silver shades of moonlight. In contrast, everything on your left was washed with firelight from the blazing iron sconces, your ears twitching to the pop of wood and fabric saturated in animal fat.

Everything here was horrible.

A prison, you think, slowing near one of the larger windows in the hall. A cage.

Staring outside, trying for only a moment to understand the disgusting castle and adjoined town you look at, there’s a faint noise from far down the corridor.

Wasting no time, your head moves slowly to the side, blinking. There isn’t anyone to be seen, but yet again, your slightly pointed ears twitch.

A firm heartbeat.

Bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump.

Staring at nothing, you listen for a moment, taking it in as your visage fights with blue and red light, shadows littering the small cracks and the marks of stone—your hands slightly tighten, but you hold no fear.

You refused to be afraid here; you would go to your spiritual death with a high head, and nothing less.

“It’s unbecoming to stalk as if a wolf,” you call, voice smooth and even. A beat of bird’s wings. “Four-legged beasts have perfected it, yet, the same cannot be said of you.”

There’s a lapse of silence—a swirling of slight tension that comes not from you but another. The heartbeat in your ear lightly skips. Startled. A shadow cusps one of the connected hallways, a gleam of silver armor. You blink slowly.

“Apologies, Ma’am.” The Knight. The one from the Great Hall. “I…didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

His lithe form doesn’t try to hide from your accusation, instead, his body moves to the middle of the stone floor and straightens—one hand going to his heart and the other behind his back; bowing. The darkness of his complexion seems to glow in the light, smooth skin besides the marring of small scars along the left cheek. Tiny things, only two lines.

For no reason at all, your body lightly turns towards him, watching.

“I’m not nervous,” you respond. “Please, stand straight.”

He does so without hesitation, though his eyes are avoiding yours. A guilty pull is to his lips that you can’t help but quirk a brow at. Yet, you remain emotionless, and outside the shadows of flying birds shift past.

“What is your name, Knight?” You see his expression slightly tense at the question, but you continue easily. A test, perhaps, if this man was worth your time. “I recall your face.”

“I can’t give you that, My Lady.” Brown eyes go to meet yours, and the silver flecks in your orbs glimmer. “My orders were clear.”

“And were those orders also to follow me?”

He clears his throat, feet shifting. “...Maybe.”

You hum, moving your body slowly and walking forward to him. The man blinks in surprise, straightening even more but a firm set to his eyes. His attention never wavers, unless it’s to glimpse your crown and belt, perfect pieces of artistry lost to this section of humanity. No mortal craftsman could imagine making something as such. He liked them, you notice at the light impression of awe in his gaze.

Anyone with sense would.

Stopping just a few feet away, you tilt your head.

It was common knowledge that you never gave your name to one of the Fae, your betrothed would have told everyone close to him to avoid doing so. Just as you would never tell your real name to anyone—not even under dire circumstances. Names hold power, and no person in this castle would make you even more of a prisoner than you already were.

You know the names of beasts and plants, flora and fauna—they bend to you, let you manipulate them to your will, though you often find no need to. The animals from any land prefer your company, anyway. The castle’s hunting hounds have already become well acquainted, just as the messenger birds had.

But mortals? No. No, there were no names that you knew besides the King himself, and even then it was a fake one. Second names and such, are common.

“Your title, then,” you say to the Knight. “If you’re to be a constant face to me.”

“Gaz is just fine, I’d say.” He nods his head, a slow smile moving his cheeks. Your brows furrow. Strange fellow. “A pleasure. I really do need to say that I wasn’t following you for long—I was only concerned you might have lost your way.”

You stare.

“Lost?” Owlishly, your head shifts.

Gaz makes a noise in the back of his throat, one hand coming up to rub at the base of his neck. “Yeah—lost. It’s, uh, it’s a big castle, My Lady—”

“Stag.” Wide eyes blink, this meeting is only awkward on his part and not yours. In fact, for how humans go, he was acting far better than most. Usually, there was iron being brandished by now.

“What was that?”

“My title,” you explain, your crown’s gems bright in the light. The fire crackles, popping. “Stag. I do not need my status stated. I know what I am, Knight.”

“Then I’d say the same,” your fingers twitch, liking the word game he plays. Inside of your sockets, the unnatural makeup of your eyes shimmers.

“Very well,” you pause, picking your words. “Gaz. A strange choice to be sure.”

He chuckles, nodding in a very stoic-like way despite the nearly boyish nature of him. “Well, Stag isn’t exactly common, either.”

You hum in your throat, unblinking; staring. Your intrigue grows the longer the man talks. Just like in the Great Hall, his form attracts all of your attention to it, against all laws that you seem to know in your soul.

“Pray tell,” you shift, moving back to the window with your feet not making a single sound. Gaz watches on, eyes flickering between the hanging gems and how you tread over the stone as if you had wings. Your form slips back to the window, and your focus once more goes outward. “Has the King told you to spy on me, Gaz?”

The title, even if not the one of his birth—not the one written on his soul like a brand—still made the air quiver with might. You were older than most of this kingdom, the Knight knew. Older than the oak trees of the nearby forest; older than rock and wind and air.

Power dripped off your tongue like water to a leaf.

But it wasn’t your influence that made the man answer you. It was his own nature.

“Yes,” Gaz says, taking a few steps to where you stand, watching a flock of birds dance above the courtyard, silver moon-drips illuminating white feathers. “But I wouldn’t call it spying. Officially, I’ve been put in place to keep you safe, Princess.” His dark brows crease when you don’t pay him any mind. “I take my job very seriously, yeah?”

“I can see that,” you utter, eyes still on the birds. “The only thing I need protecting from is the iron ring on your right hand.”

He startles, blinking for a moment.

“...Parden?”

Silver eyes pierce him, watching; waiting.

Gaz looks down, locking on the hand that has been resting on the pommel of his sword. Cape swishing, he makes a noise in the back of his throat. His sigil ring—the one that had been given over at his dubbing ceremony sat on the first digit, the engraving of his King’s coat of arms glimmering back.

A wolf; a snake caught in its fangs.

Brown eyes dart back, and he sheepishly smiles, huffing a chuckle of sorts.

“Comes with the job, unfortunately,” yet still, his other hand easily grasps and slips the thing off, tucking it away into the leather pouch swinging from his belt. “I thought that was a myth—the Fae being harmed by iron. Conjured up to give people something to cling to.”

“I can name a million things that men and women like you consider myth,” you mutter, starting at that pouch, deep in thought. You hadn’t expected him to give in that easily. Your shoulders loosen their rigidness, but your chin never drops its high pride. “Every story comes from somewhere—be it reality or wives’ tales. Who’s to say that the words don’t give them life in one form or another?”

“Bloody hell. Not a discussion to take up with me, I’m afraid,” Gaz huffs a chuckle, smirking. While still hesitant around you, the conversation wasn’t anything that made him want to not be around you. Everyone deserved to have their character shown, and what he was seeing so far wasn’t ringing any alarms. “Sound more of a scholar than a Princess, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Your lips quirk. “I prefer philosopher.”

“And what’s a Fae philosopher doing out in the middle of the night, then?” A breeze wafts through the window, blowing on your dress and making Gaz’s cape flutter in its bloodish tint. The torches whip and dance. You take a low breath, bird chips coming closer.

“Speaking with an old friend.”

A white dove lands on the stone opening of the window, fluttering wings coming to fold along its sleek form until it shakes and settles all at once.

“Lysander,” you say in greeting, nodding your head. Gaz watches, barely moving as his lips part in astonishment.

Your hand extends itself, bearing no rings or bracelets. All you needed was your crown. Tiny eyes blink as an angular head turns to the side, tiny coos sparking from a rounded breast. Pale feet grasp your perfect flesh, such a tiny weight settles before you lift effortlessly; wings flapping to keep balance.

“What news, then?” You ask in a whisper, bringing the beast to your crown. Lysander settles on one of the tines, head dipping down as feathers puff. Into your ear, words take shape.

You hum in answer, blinking at every clicked sentence; tapping talons.

Gaz stares blankly, eyebrows pulled up on his head and unable to articulate himself.

So many stories about your people—he hadn’t thought half of them to be true. While he’d been stationed in many places during the duration of this war, he’d never actually encountered one of the Fae before. Gaz had been told they were like a plague; they came in when you weren’t looking, spoke magic into your ears, and forced you to come back to their home and live as mindless beasts. Cupbearers and entertainment.

Of the countless knights he’d been in line with, he knew the true names of none of them. A precaution. Forethought.

Yet…you don’t look dangerous.

But the man is far from stupid.

“He says the fires from your forges burn his eyes,” your voice snaps him back to you, and he straightens, fingers twitching. Gaz finds your face already turned his way, owlish in its movements. “The smoke makes his throat ache.”

“I,” he pauses, mouth opening and closing. Brown eyes dart to the sharp-beaked dove; the thing very much like you in the way it watches him. “I’m…sorry?”

Your lips pull in a frown, sighing with a shake of your head.

I can never survive here, you find yourself thinking. I believed this is what I had to do, but if this is how I’m going to live…

“Tell me about your King, Gaz,” your body swiftly turns, feet carrying you down the corridor once more with long, even, steps. “If I’m to marry him, I will know of his nature.”

The man clears his throat and follows after, where you hear the clinking of silver and the scabbard against his thigh. He glances over at you, walking if not a bit behind yourself in proper fashion.

“What do you want to know, Ma’am?”

Your unnatural orbs shimmer, and the bird on your crown hunkers down; puffed contently and eager to rest his wings from a long flight.

“Everything. I will not be unaware of my fate.”

“Well,” Gaz sighs, rubbing at his chin with his opposite hand. He licks his lips, mind running to answer the best he can. “You’ll not want for anything—finery and wealth will—”

“I do not care about mortal revelry. I need neither fine things nor wealth.” Your voice curtly moves along the open air. The Knight’s boots connect with stone while your bare flesh emits nothing. “His character, Knight. Is he fair—just?”

Gaz’s face tightens, glancing from you to the hallway as he takes a moment to think.

“My King has…become troubled with the turning tides of the war. I’m sure when your marriage is official, he’ll go back to how he was before.” He doesn’t seem certain, but loyalty is a trait that a knight knows well. You had been set as his charge, of course, not under the best of circumstances, but he would do his job how he believed would benefit all parties. Even if his guts were stiff at the thought of a forced marriage.

“My Lady Stag?” He asks, and your heart jerks unexpectedly at the muttering of your title.

Blinking in confusion, your hand coming up to rub at your collarbone like a willow branch, you almost miss the question entirely.

“Where you come from, if I can ask, of course, what’s it like?” Your mind strays from marriage ceremonies and consummation—momentary peace slipping in on waves of this man’s smooth accent.

Mouth opening, only to close once and open again, you decide to indulge this man with your answer. If only because he speaks of your home.

“Green,” is the soft utterance of your answer to him. “It’s green. More trees and rivers than you can count in your lifetime. Animals each more fantastical than the last; all of which your people now call nothing but hearsay.”

You can sense his attention, sucking up knowledge as if he had the years to know and understand it all.

Lysander coos, shaking his feathers out, and you glance upward without moving your head. You chuckle like a blade of moving grass.

Blinking, Gaz slowly begins to smile, cocking his skull to the side boyishly. “What’s so funny, then?”

Your high nose twitches.

“He says you’re as if a Wyvern hatching. A curious thing.” Brown eyes drift to your companion, whose peaked eye pierces like black fire-stone. Gaz’s mouth releases a puff of a chuckle, chest jerking.

“Hell, never thought I’d get insulted by a bird.”

“Humans have not the ability to speak with beasts,” you ease out, walking on. “On that, I have to say you are at a sure disadvantage.”

“What?” Gaz’s amused voice is in your ear. “Minus the whole immortality thing?”

You side-eye him, visage calm with decades of understanding. “Not everything is built to last forever.”

A momentary silence falls between the two of you. Eyes locked, you both stare, legs carrying bodies across the unfeeling stone until the area Lysander had told you about takes form. You shift a slow right and exit into the inner courtyard, large stone walls making a small square of patchy green grass and dying plants. A fountain sits still.

“If this is to be a game of equal exchange, Knight, I desire to ask the next question.” Your eyes take it all in, hand moving out to capture the blackened leaves of a Medlar tree. Frowning at the dead fauna, you hear Lysander take to wing, flapping until his ghostly form lands on the far-off fountain’s edge.

“Alright,” Gaz nods, looking around at the dying place with a frown as well. He’d never come here before, but the state of things was…sad, really. “Ask away.”

“When you leave the castle—the town,” you let power move to your fingertips, and you feel the tingles of it running the lengths of your arms like ice and fire; taking a low breath. “What do you see? I admit, I’m not used to having company with humans. I know not how their souls feel.”

Gaz walks into the small enclosed space, humming as he taps the pommel of his sword. His shoulders shrug as his head tilts up, blinking at the stars.

“I wouldn’t see it as you would, I gather.”

You look over your shoulder, amusement in your face mixed with a slice of intrigue. “That wasn’t my question. But, no, you would not.”

“Figured,” he chuckles, nodding at you. Gaz articulates himself dutifully. “I see a place far more peaceful than the one here. Outside the stone and smog—it’s beautiful, truly. Calm. You can actually think above the noise, you know? I usually find myself wanting to get out more often, but my duty ties me here.”

Your eyes soften slightly, thumb running the face of the leaf as you take in his words. Lysander stoops to take a sip of water.

“You’re…” You lack the words, only humming and stopping yourself.

“Why are we here, Princess?” Gaz asks you, gazing around. “I had only expected you to walk to the kitchens—the library, even. Don’t get me wrong, you can go as you wish, but I’m not sure this is the most…” He grunts. “Sightly place to end up. Everything’s dead.”

“Nearly,” you whisper, a tiny smile taking over your flesh. “Not quite.”

Gaz’s frown is lost to you, as is his comment that he mutters, “Looks it.”

Leaning forward, you press your lips to the leaf you hold as if a precious object. Into its blackened and shriveled form, you whisper its name—its true name, one you had learned through years of patience and trust that bordered on an entirely trance-like state. A Medlar is a tough and stubborn thing, like the fruit it bears, it will hang on until all else is gone to dust. Its roots are strong, and from them, you had listened to the earth sing its songs one buzzing note at a time.

All things speak, you just have to know how to listen.

There’s a surge of wild order, a dichotomy of will and freedom; the sing of an axe and the memories of young saplings just gracing their leaves to the sun. A circle of death and rebirth as old as the stars that still shone in a sky of black.

You know many names, but those of the trees were the first to come to you, and it was only proper. Before anything, there were trees.

The Medlar shakes, its leaves dropping down one at a time until they come in groups, in clusters—bare branches shiver like dogs do until creaking ballads move over the air.

Starling, Gaz had taken a large step back, hand snapping to the handle of his sword, the blade half drawn. Lysander flies past his face, blunt talons skating the close-cropping of his hair before the bird grapples to your crown. Flinching, the knight watched with a mixture of horror and pure wonder.

The tree was sprouting new greens.

You step back, and from your feet, the dead grass quivers, before the smell of groaning earth makes his nose twitch; fresh blades show themselves anew. The dove atop your crown jumps from one sharp tine to the next, dodging lines of gold—eyes glinting and wings flapping excitedly.

Life is in the very air.

You smile to yourself, silver eyes moving as a nearly ancient-looking spark flares to life in them—a long breath entering your lungs.

Gaz’s face begins to heat as he watches, his heart pounding with something he can’t understand. He stares at your bright face before his fast-blinking eyes move to the grass growing all around; the bushes dancing, flowers opening up and turning to you. Birds gather on the edges of this verdant and fertile land, darting one by one to the fountain and to the trees. Singing.

The knight steps back, feet dancing over the ground with an airy laugh stuck in his throat.

“Holy hell…” he breathes, nearly panting.

Wide eyes move back to you, expression open, innocent. This was a moment when you truly believed you’d never seen a face more bare than this; more giving.

“You…” He laughs. “You’re tellin’ me you could always do that?” You chuckle, and it is a sound that could make roots grow in his heart, flowers bursting from his lungs. “I…I’m speechless, really. This is,” he laughs once more, turning a full circle, with his hand going to the back of his neck in shock. It was entirely new—all of it. Ivy climbed the stone, and the animals spoke and flew in the air; excitement something that transcends species. “This is extraordinary.”

You were something incredible.

Chuckling, you raise a slow brow, feeling a foreign heat move over your cheeks. It’s a moment before you speak, taken aback by the reverency.

“My thanks, Knight,” your head nods his way, a simple dip of your chin and nothing more. “But this is only a small courtyard. A fraction. If I so wished, forests could grow from ashen ground.”

“How?” He asks you, eyes glittering more than the moon.

Smaller birds join Lysander on your head, finches, perhaps, and sparrows. They tweet and chip, speaking their thanks. You reach up and let one move onto your finger, bringing it back to eye level as you move to softly connect your forehead to its own. Moving back, you hum and watch the bird fly off.

“Ages of practice,” you elegantly tip your head his way, careful of your cargo. “Quite verbatim.”

Gaz is speechless, unable to recall something in his life that had made him feel so special to be able to witness it. Magic to humans was a dying thing—you’d be surprised if he’d ever even seen it in this magnitude before.

“...Amazing,” he utters under his breath, smiling like a fool.

For all of your Fae trickery, your games, you had to be honest. “I don’t believe I thought you’d be this moved by it.”

“Really?” He blinks at you, a boyish twist to his face. “How could I bloody not be, Love?”

Your air gets stuck in your throat, eyes minutely widening.

Gaz quickly comes back to himself, straightening and clearing his throat as your face suddenly blazes in a way that startles you. Heart pattering like a horse’s hooves not only at the…different title but his awe at your magic as well.

“Forgive me, My Lady,” you choose not to correct him. “I overstepped.”

His body bends forward in a deep bow, hand to his heart, resting over his armor as the cape drapes its crimson fabric to the now vibrant grass.

It had briefly eluded you that you were to be married soon. A comment like that could get the Knight and his tree-bark brown eyes put to the sword. You hold back a long sigh, eyelids fluttering shut softly.

“Is he kind?” Your question is small, but it moves like a knife.

Gaz stares hard at the ground, once dead and nothing but a reminder of nature. He clenches his jaw, a worry swirling in his gut. The man knows who you’re asking about, and he holds the same dread he did in the Great Hall as you were led like a sacrificial lamb to the altar.

Maybe the Knight was broken, but even if he’d never met one of your kind before, he knew that no person deserved to be bartered for the illusion of peace—forced to give children like they were only objects. But maybe he was also just a man not meant for this lifetime.

It was the way of things.

Gaz swallows the tension in his shoulders. He will not lie.

“...No.”

—

This tall knight had become a constant at your side. Officially, he’d been placed for your protection, but you knew it was because the King didn’t want you to cut and run.

But unless there was a very good reason to, he should have known that you were not the running type. It was a battle of wits, and even into your marriage, you would always come out on top.

It started easy enough—Michael would invite you for tours of the castle ‘making it a home’ he’d said in front of his court. It was a power trip.

He’d talk about his wealth like it would make you swoon; like you cared at all. You could only hide your sneer for so many hours, even with your infinite amount of patience. Time had mellowed you like the rocks of the ocean, but even they cracked when the storm was strong enough.

Yet still, you considered yourself too intelligent for baseline insults.

“My palace was much the same, your Highness. Our towers rose high—nearly gracing the clouds themselves.”

“Oh, lovely, my King. Pray tell, do you also have pet dragons? Oh…unicorns, perhaps? My, I had the most lovely unicorn companion when I was just shy of my two-hundredth birth year. A little thing—all legs and neck. Beautiful creatures.”

“Gorgeous little trinkets. Tell me, do you have a coffer for fallen stars? They create the most magnificent illumination for late-night reading.”

Gaz nearly lost his composure at times, even if no one else could tell except for you and your pointed ears; twitching at every breath that was fought to keep still. The over-the-lip huffs and chuckles. In fact, you found yourself perpetuating the back-handed insults just to hear those noises. Such small and meaningless things, in the grand scheme.

You took…enjoyment from it.

Seeing the effect it had on the King was also a bonus—his raging eyes, snapping tongue held back for only his reputation and little more. He wanted to take you by the arm and shake you, you knew, yell in your face.

Kind, King Michael was not. Gaz had been correct.

In the nights, you would discuss with the Knight—sitting in the dense and growing courtyard with your body comfortable on the grass; Gaz’s on the fountain’s edge.

You have much of the same confidence in one another as you do tonight.

“Do knights marry for love?” Your voice wafts out, petting Lysander with a single finger in your lap; itching at his neck as he coos. “Do they get to choose?”

Gaz fiddles with his cape’s clasp, fingers dancing over the silver make. He has made a motion to always take off his ring when it’s just the two of you, easily slipping it away until he was forced to put it back on. He doesn’t know if you feel it, but he believes the two of you to be well-off acquaintances—perhaps even friends.

The man enjoyed speaking to you. He reveled in the limitless knowledge that spilled from your tongue, your stories and tales. Gaz, unlike so many others, enjoyed your company not for the power that it offers in a physical sense, but for the words that you freely give. Often your sentences were like honey to him, seeping into his head.

A princess speaking with a knight? Unheard of. A Fae princess? Blasphemy.

It was easy to forget that you were older than many generations of his family line.

“No,” he says, glancing over. “All knights take a vow of chastity when they commit to service. None of those alive in this kingdom will wed unless they willingly break their oaths.”

Your head tilts, crown resting comfortably a small distance away on a rock.

“That sounds lonely.”

Gaz smiles, “Worried about me?”

You stare, eyes traveling the little deaths on his face—the lines, the scars. “If it’s what you wish to do with yourself, who am I to tell you any different?”

The man’s face softens, lips pulling as his cheeks heat under the moonlight. “Figured you’d have some opinion of it.”

You hum, raising a brow. “It’s your life—it’s so fleeting. Tread it as if water between your fingers. Before you know it, it’ll be gone.” Lysander leans into your flesh, shivering. “Live it.”

“For someone who says they don’t know humans that well,” Gaz grumbles, though his chest is light. “You sure know a lot about them.”

“Intuition,” your mouth twitches in a smile. “And a bit of reality.”

Delicate looks are shared.

You do admit, you liked these conversations with Gaz. The long nights and the feeling of grass under your flowing dresses; the horrid contraptions that your betrothed had tried to make you wear stuck far back into the wardrobe of your room. Heavy items—suffocating corsets, unlike the simple but elegantly sewn one you wear now. You could feel it trying to sneak in when the days drew on.

Control.

It was all becoming more and more apparent. You did not want to live like this.

Your face goes troubled as the calm silence moves over the Medlar with its reaching branches. Fireflies hang like miniature stars as you take your crown and slip it back on; to feel the comforting weight of antlers.

The knight pauses as he slips his cape off of his shoulder, blinking over at you in a slow confusion. You look troubled. He’d never seen that expression on your face before.

“Stag?” Your head swivels, as if in another world.

“Just thinking,” your voice moves into his ears, making them hum with energy. Gaz’s brows furrow, a frown taking over. After a second, he stands, moving closer on quiet feet.

You watch him as he goes to kneel near you, one arm moving over the bent nature of his leg while the other holds fabric—letting it cascade over the earth. Brown eyes narrow, and a joking tease moves with the undertone of slight concern.

“I’m usually the talker, I know, but when you look a bit like that it makes me nervous.”

You frown. “Look like what?”

“Like someone’s got a sword to your neck, Princess.” The air is cool here, the deep throws of night taking you by the breath in your throat. A smooth smirk. “It’s my job to make sure that doesn’t happen, yeah?”

If you leave, if you find a way out of this…the war will never end. It will go on until stone cracks like glass and generations forget why it even started in the first place.

But why were you put to the axe because of it? Why must you take the blade to the stomach—an object of greed?

Gaz’s amused voice moves lower at your immobile lips, going serious.

“Hey,” a hand outstretched to your arm, hovering. “Really, is everything alright?”

“Gaz,” you pause, voice still level despite your heated pulse. It’s like a snake curls itself in your guts, roots growing in your veins. The courtyard seems to shiver all by itself, leaves curling into themselves from bushes and trees. Lysander’s feet shimmy, head moving about.

This knight had been kind to you as well as honest about his intentions. Chivalrous. Such qualities are hard to come by anymore.

“I don’t believe I want this.” It’s a breath more quiet than a lapping of waves. Gaz stills, fingers above your flesh twitching. “I can’t live in a cage. I refuse.”

Silver meets brown, holding it firmly.

“I will not be a prize to be chained to a birthing bed.”

The man’s face pulls at that, tightening.

You don’t know what to expect. It isn’t fear in you—no, nothing like this could make you afraid. Apprehensive? Perhaps. Age made you cautious. At any moment he might flip his tune; run off to tattle to a King he, seemingly, likes just as much as you. Which is to say, very little. But there’s still the possibility, the knowledge stacked over ages and ages of strategy and mind games.

A knight of a tension-ridden kingdom, swearing fealty to a King whom you’re betrothed to. You’d just expressed treason, in a way. It could put you to the sword; to the rope. To irons. Your mind runs through the millions of possibilities, not able to settle on a single one before—

A cape settles over your shoulders, startling you.

Hand snapping to grab the front, your head snaps up, eyes wider than you can remember them ever going.

Soft browns meet you, a thin smile. Fireflies buzz about, and a dove sits under your still finger, watching with beady orbs intently at the scene. A Medlar quivers.

A stag and a knight breathe the same air. A godly creation and a saint ensnared in a song far larger than they intend, as the world shifts past all around them. Silver starlight leaves long reflections breaking from the hanging glory of your gems, but the patches of light on Gaz’s face capture yours in that instant far more than they should have.

Impossibly so. Unnaturally so.

Does this mortal have magic of his own, perhaps? You have to ask yourself. There was no other possibility.

And when he speaks…it’s like whatever ice has been layered over your antediluvian heart breaks into fire. There wasn’t even a fight from him.

“Then tell me what you need.”

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10yrsyart · 10 months

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i've been inspired by this song "Knight on the Moon- John Lordwood" recently. there's just something very melancholy about it, but in a mysterious way that builds into these intense moments of battle or rescue or something (the beginning leading up to 2:50 and also 6:27 onward).

this is the story of the Gospel, but i hope it's in a way that makes you see it with fresh eyes. the God of the universe, the vast cosmos, saw our sin and our suffering, and loved us enough to come down Himself. He was born as a human and experienced the joys and sorrows that we experienced. the devil is the temporary ruler on Earth and everyone is born under his rule, whether they know it or not. but Jesus paid the ransom for us, to move us into His own Kingdom. He gave His life so that we could be freed from those chains forever.

every pain you've experienced, every sadness that feels like it will finally swallow you whole; Jesus experienced that personally. He doesn't watch sympathetically from afar, He stands and cries with you, knowing just what you're feeling. He loved you enough to give His very life to give you hope. strength can be found in Him, and freedom, and joy. He is the ONLY way to be saved, not only from the consequences of your sins, but from the doom of living in a fallen world. the fallen world won't last forever though, He will soon remake it new. decide for yourself what kingdom you want to be part of.

"Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled: 'Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?' For sin is the thing that results in death, and the law gives sin its power. But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ." (1 Corinthians 15:54-57)

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intuitively-her · 3 months

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(Knight of pentacles, 6 of wands, 5 of swords rx, Queen of swords rx, Strength rx, 10 of wands, The Lovers rx, The Moon, 8 of swords rx, Judgement)

You're taking your power back and making your dreams come true. This year will be very rewarding for you. You've been putting in endless work, and your spirit guides/ancestors can see this. You will allow yourself to be more vulnerable and ask others for help, especially at work. You're putting your ego to rest and doing what's needed for you. Someone here may start going to therapy. You're finally starting to realize that you don't have to carry life's burdens on your own. You're leaving behind petty issues and distractions that have been holding you back. Self-love is the theme for you this year. Doing less of what you want, and more of what you need. You will spend more time discovering yourself and figuring out what you truly want out of a relationship. This year, you will step into your divine feminine/masculine energy and become a softer version of yourself.

☎️Angel messages: Helpful people, Opportunity, Get more information

(Knight of wands, Knight of pentacles, Knight of cups, The Magician, 5 of wands, Death rx, 8 of wands rx, 6 of cups)

This year, you'll be living large and taking charge! You're going after what you want. Someone here will start a new job soon. Or you're switching career fields. This is the perfect time. You could be starting a new project, or you're finishing one. Expect a successful outcome from this. Someone here could have an online business, or you could be a content creator. This year will push you out of your comfort zone in so many ways. Someone here will take a solo trip somewhere. I heard "bungee jumping" lol. Someone here will have to do a public speech for a big event, or a performance. You will put yourself out into the dating world again. I see you having fun on dates and not taking anything too seriously. This year is going to make you slow down and live in the moment.

☎️Angel messages: Caution is warranted. Look deeper into this situation before pertaining further. Yoga and exercise are essential to your well-being, peace of mind, and spiritual growth at this time. You have a special bond with animals. Your pets on Earth and in heaven are watched over by angles.

(Queen of pentacles, 10 of pentacles, Queen of swords, Page of swords, 6 of cups, The Emperor, Ace of swords, 7 of swords, Judgement rx)

This year will be very abundant. There's a lot of big wins in store for you. Someone here is getting a promotion at work. You should play the lottery more often this year. Luck is on your side. Someone here could be getting their own apartment/house. Or you could be redecorating your home. You're finally receiving what you've envisioned and dreamed for. Someone here creates vision boards to help them manifest. You will tend to your inner child a lot more this year. Doing the things that you've always wanted to do. Someone will go to an amusement park. Or you've been wanting to. It would benefit you to reflect on your childhood and do some of the things that you did for fun back then. Arts and crafts? Scrapbooking? You might make a drastic change to your appearance this year. I see someone here changing their style completely. New hair/makeup? This year will teach you to stand up for yourself and what you believe in. Be careful not to self-sabotage a good opportunity for yourself. Know that you deserve good things!

☎️Angel messages: Trust, Big & Happy changes, Ask for help from others

(The Sun, 3 of wands rx, 3 of cups rx, King of wands rx, Ace of swords, 7 of cups rx, The Fool, 2 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, The Star)

This year will be a reality check. It seems like you've been feeling unmotivated, or you're not as productive as you could be. There will be some obstacles and disruptions thrown at you this year. This is all to make you see the bigger picture in situations. For some, you can be naive at times, and this causes you to set impossible expectations for yourself/others. And then when those expectations can't be met, you act like it's the end of the world. That needs to change.🤷🏽‍♀️ You will spend more time alone this year. This is needed for your growth. You'll learn to balance your life and become more adaptable to new ways of being. Heavy on the self-improvement. This year is going to test your faith in many ways. Someone here will start a diet routine or get back into the gym. Someone here could be working on starting a new business. Family business? You will gain more recognition as the year goes on. The more you focus on yourself and mind your business, the more attention you gain from others.

☎️Angel messages: Forgiveness, Reconsider, Communicate clearly, Recovery

💗Please DO NOT repost, copy, or steal my work. Thanks!💗

#tarot #tarot reading #pick a pile #pick a card #paid readings #pick an image #zodiac reading

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myfanfic-urfantrash · 3 months

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Omg I got a nickname ( ≧∀≦)ノ yippee!

(๑/////๑ " ) Food for thought, imagine these fine Alpha men courting their soon to be mate (〃ω〃)

-emoti anon (^-^)/

Emoti anon your ideas and emotes are fantastic! :D

Just Blade, Jing Yuan and Luocha this time.

Cw: omegaverse

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Blade

Met his future omega as he was escaping the IPC. He's heavily injured hiding in an alleyway a bit out of is mind when they find him on their way home from work. Normally he'd be lashing out at whoever approaches him but their scent calms him and he doesn't fight them as they patch him up. He even relaxes and tries to seek out their touch before passing out. When he wakes up hours later all he's left with is their scent and the warmth he feels from the jacket they left on him.

It really isn't hard to find out who this mysterious omega was with his connections but it is harder to find a good time to thank them for their foolish kindness. So he doesn't bother for sometime just watching and protecting them from a distance. When by chance the omega spots him from one of his hiding spots and gives him a smile he feels his heart flutter but tries to ignore it.

After this the omega actually starts leaving gifts for him first in the form of snacks and medical supplies. He returns the jacket freshly cleaned with a few snacks he's seen them buy at the store. This continues for some time of the two just giving each other snacks and him looking out for them.

He doesn't actually start giving them proper courting gifts until Kafka and Silver Wolf see just how awkward he is while trying to pick a gift. They're also the ones to suggest exchanging phone numbers since he can't always be there to watch over them.

Jing Yuan

Probably met his future omega during his time as a cloud knight when he had much more freedom to wander and interact with the public. That or it happened during one of his days off as he was wandering the streets.

He's actually subtle with his courting preferring to let his little gifts show that they're being courted by someone and that others should back off. His gifts are simple accessories like hair ribbons, bracelets and the like. When he's more serious about courting them does he start gifting them necklaces and other accessories that go on the neck. It's his way of saying this omega is claimed without out right saying it.

If the omega he's courting finally gets the hint and reciprocates his advances by gifting him little presents he's over the moon and increases his gift types. He'll start giving them clothes and nesting materials after he asks them what sort of stuff they're looking for. He might also just offer to take them to buy nesting materials as a cute date idea.

Luocha

He met his future omega during his travels when he was stuck on a planet as he waited for repairs on his ship. They weren't a merchant but loved to travel the stars. He didn't think much of them at first but he was polite and responded to their questions of his travels and listened to stories of their own.

Unfortunately for him the repairs would take longer than anticipated but at least he wasn't bored, this omega kept him rather entertained. They weren't a native there but they had stayed on that planet for sometime now that they would bring him to a new location almost every day as he waited.

At first he just went with them to be polite and to ease his boredom seeing as his business was completed but over time he began to look forward to their visits and little adventures. So when the repairs on his ship were complete he felt a bit sad that he had to go, he has business elsewhere after all. They were sad to see him go but they decided to exchange phone numbers and keep contact.

As the months went by in their friendship and he kept meeting them every so often on other planets he found himself wanting them to be by his side as more than a friend. He sets up a meeting with them at a nice Cafe where he tells them flat out he'd like to court them, he's not one to waste time after all. The joy he feels when they say yes is indescribable.

He starts by giving them rather small knickknacks and flowers from his trips, but later on when things become more serious between them does he present them with items for their nest. The first time he gives his omega a nesting blanket is also the first time he's invited into their nest, it's rather sweet.

#honkai star rail a/b/o #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #luocha x reader

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starry-pierrot · 6 months

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A Fighting Chance

You've trained for this for years, friends have helped you and you've dreamed of this moment every night since you've started this plan. You hope it's enough.

Royal Jester AU Eclipse X Reader (Gender neutral)

-Fighting with swords

-Blood mention

-you're a giant cry baby, I don't make the rules you get a piece of me.

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Hello hello! Okay first things first-this is FANART. This is not at all canon in Cloud's AU. I took liberties and none of this in fic should at all be considered cannon, so please don't go asking them questions about it!

Second this story has TWO endings, neither one is wrong or right they're just more fun. Both endings will be labeled.

And lastly, @head-in-the-icloud I hope you like this! I also hope I didn't butcher Eclipse.

Anyway enjoy!

Your newly gifted sword was held tight in your hands as you pointed it at your best friend and comrade, Eclipse. Today had been the day when you were to be knighted and join the royal guard ranks as an official Knight. But it was also the day you would declare your proposal.

“Marry me!”

The room was quiet while others looked on in surprise at your bold demand, it was no secret that you had fallen for him many moons ago. But no one expected you to do this at this very moment.

And you had just been appointed a knight.

The Queen and Neptune looked on in stunned silence…though Moon and Sun both smiled at one another.. Of course they did, they helped you prepare for this after all.

Eclipse stood tall and stiff as he looked down at you, obviously he was processing what you just said and was caught off guard with the demand. But soon his surprise turned into a wide smile on his face. “No wonder you’ve been demanding I spar with you so much. Had this planned for a while did you?”

“You have no idea.” A laugh slips from your throat, you had this plan thought out for years. Ever since the knight had pulled you out of the way of a runaway cart during a delivery. Sure maybe it was a bit tacky to fall for someone who saved you once but your heart left you no room to argue. You were a romantic afterall.

Getting in was easy but the training was grueling even when it was just the training bot! Never had your hands been so sore before.

It was a struggle but every time you saw him it only made the feelings inside you grow ever stronger for the knight. During your time as a novice you came to get to know him better and spent many days making conversation. You even became friends with the two princes who were more than happy to help.

You believe Moon’s words were, “About time that firestarter gets his rear handed to him.” Moon fenced with you but encouraged you to look around, see how quick the pickpockets of the town move. Study them. And Sun even prepared a final surprise.

“I accept your challenge.” Eclipse said as he moved forward with a hand raised to tip your sword down. “Let’s move this outside. We wouldn’t want to ruin the Queen’s castle now do we?” he said leaning in close before pulling back and walking towards the room’s doors.

Without missing a beat you quickly follow him, you don’t miss how the room is suddenly loud with footsteps and excited chatter behind you.

The courtyard was large and just enough room for the two of you to fight without harming anyone or the buildings around you. Eclipse had his sword out at the ready with his hands poised on top of the handle, patient.

“Are you prepared?” Eclipse asked as you adjusted your cloak on your shoulders before looking at him with a smile.

“Very.”

“You know I won't go easy on you,” he warned, “friend or not.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, Sir Eclipse.” You were ready. You can do this.

Eclipse’s sword flashes with light as the fire twirls and dances around the blade, it was one of his strongest abilities. “Then we shall begin.”

The crowd watching you was silent as you both stood still, you can hear Sun cheering you on as all eyes are on the both of you.

Then suddenly the field burned.

Ellipse was quick as he made the first move, you just barely countering it. The heat from his flames were scorching against your skin as you grunted.

“Come on now! Don’t disappoint me!” Eclipse’s wide smile looked down on you and with all your might you managed to push him back. Just as you expected he’s putting his all into this.

“Disappoint you? Never!” Charging at him the two of you clash, to the outsiders it looked like a dance of fire as the kingdom's knights fought. Eclipse was nothing but a force of power and fire, easily knocking you off your feet but you were quick and crafty. Managing to just get around his attacks or at the very last second block it.

You knew when you started this you’d be staring down the Beast of Pleiades and you think the stories of him don’t quite empathize the ‘Beast’ part as much as they should. Eclipse was a monster in battle. But no one was unbeatable.

Eclipse roared as he swung his sword, fire shooting out and surely would knock you off your feet if you didn’t wrap your cloak around you and huddled down.

You can feel the heat wrap around you but the cloak keeps it off your skin, the magic spell casted on it doing its job. Thank you, Sunny!

Unraveling the cloak once it was safe too you stood in front of Eclipse who was once more stunned.

Before he lets out a bellowed laugh, “Ahaha-! I see someone’s made powerful friends!”

“Hey I needed a counter to that sword of yours.” There was a wide smile on your scrapped face, Eclipse laughed a moment more before he swung his sword absentmindedly.

“Impressive. Impressive. I see you thought this out…but will that be enough?” Then he was back at it, sword alight once more and dashing towards you.

The two of you continued to fight, aiming for any sort of weak point like his joints and Eclipse either taking the hit or managing to fend you off and vise versa.

WINNING ENDING--------------------------

The onlookers while captivated wondered when this would all end, the both of you at this point looked like you two had been through hell and back. Blood caked the side of your face and a leg and oil ran down Eclipse’s back.

Neptune had been worried they'd let it go long enough and could potentially lose a new knight but Gaia assured him that Eclipse knew what he was doing.

With a final blow you knock Eclipse hard into the dirt, his sword slipping from his grasp as he grunted. A heavy weight settled on his chest with a knee as you knelt over him, your own sword pointed at his neck, you were panting.

“Yield!” you demand.

“Never!” He refused and made a grab for his sword only to let out a yell of pain as his right arm couldn’t be lifted for more than a few inches before he had to put it back down. His left hand however gripped your sword once he realized he couldn’t reach his own. Tried as he might he couldn’t pull it from your grasp, far too weak to put any real strength into it.

“Y-you…my joints…” Eclipse realized.

“Can’t use a sword without the use of your arms, Eclipse. Damage will do that.” A smirk on your face as he struggled to pull the sword from your grasp, frustrated grunts as he tried but ultimately his hand fell back to the ground.

He seemed to take you in. How you were over him and pinning him down. Someone finally defeated him.

“I yield.” His expression turned to one of relaxation as he smiled up at you.

With a stumble you stood and raised your sword, “He yields!” you yelled to the crowd that erupted into cheering, you can see the Queen,her sons and Neptune racing towards you two.

You did it. You won.

Suddenly the world went dizzy and you stumbled a little before falling down on your ass next to Eclipse, your body had no energy left and even your sword tumbled out of your grip.

“Are you alright?” Eclipse asked.

“Y-yeah..just…holy fuck that was hard..”

A laugh from the defeated night, “I did warn you.”

While resting you felt a warm metal hand meet yours, his weak one could barely move but you squeezed it and smiled down at him.

“So…where do you want to honeymoon? We can go overseas on a ship. Maybe be pirates for a day.”

“Does anyone oppose this union?”

Another laugh, “I think…I think I would like that.”

The priest asked as both you and Eclipse stood before him, the room behind you full of friends, family and even those gossiping old crows who would talk about Eclipse's sword being his secret lover. You were sure there were more people outside but the room had been filled and the doors were closed. Who knew seeing the Eclipse of all people get married would be a big event for the kingdom?

Must be his reputation.

The room stayed silent at the priest's question, not a soul daring to interrupt your union. “The rings please.”

Eclipse delicately placed the ring on your finger, it was silver with gorgeous ruby and imperial topaz gems adorned along it. His name had been etched into the inner side and it fit like a glove.

Slipping on his ring it was an opal and moonstone on the same sliver as yours, along with your own name etched on the inner side. It stood out against his colors but you don’t think you could have found anything more beautiful on him.

The two of you said your vows, you began to cry a little during yours and Eclipse was very patient and encouraging as you stumbled through it. Even making a little joke making you smack him and telling him to ‘Shut up!’, getting a few good laughs around the room.

“You may kiss.”

This is what you’ve waited for, what you’ve worked so hard for the past five years. Careful hands gently cupped your face as he leaned in and kissed you.

Your heart beat hard in your chest as you couldn’t hold back anymore and reached your own arms around him and dragged him down to deepen the kiss.

Cheers and whistles filled the church as your heart soared.

You won.

LOSEING ENDING—---------------

Eclipse's blows were starting to take a toll on your body and if you didn’t knock him down soon you were going to lose. The simple idea of that reigniting the fire in your chest as you two fought. He must have been going easy on you in sparing because he’s never been this fierce before!

But you expected this. You knew he wouldn’t be easy. That’s why this plan had taken so long, so long to put together and your practice with Moon and asking Sun to enchant your cloak so you had a bit of an edge!

“Agh-!” Suddenly you were thrown off your feet, rolling into the dirt before coming to a stop. Looking up you quickly doge a metal boot’s stomp as you roll out of the way.

“You’re slowing down!” Another swing of his sword you barely manage to get out of the way of the fire, “Getting sloppy!”

He was right and you knew it. You needed to end this before he got the upper hand, with a yell you ran in close and made to aim for his naked shoulder hoping to damage the joint somehow. But before your sword could even scrape his casing you were knocked back hard by a knee.

Scrambling to get up your thrown once more by the heat of fire, unable to reach for your cloak in time you feel the fire burn on your skin. You doubt he would kill you, no you know he wouldn’t. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t scorch you a little.

A groan of pain as you finally roll to a stop, breathing heavily as the aches in your body begin to pulsate and scream at you. You could heat his footsteps getting closer, “You’ve certainly put up quite the fight. That cloak I’d say was a very smart move.”

You tried to get up only to wheeze out a breath when his boot stood firmly on your chest, not enough to cut off your breathing but enough to keep you down. “But it seems your plan wasn’t quite enough.”

He sounds so disappointed it makes your guts twist, looking up at him that manic smile is gone and replaced with a frown.

“I-I’m not done!” You say as you struggle to get his foot off you despite the protest of your burned and weak body.

“Oh dear…it’s best to stop now. You’ll only hurt yourself more.” He was trying to let you down easy but you didn’t want to stop now. Not even him pointing his sword at you would stop you now.

“No!”, your hands fly up and grip his sword, luckily you had leather gloves so you don’t feel the sting of the blade but you do feel the heat left on the blade. But you hold tight and weaky try to pull it out of his hands.

He watches with a bit of sadness in his gaze, undoubtedly wanting this done with, “You probably can’t even stand anymore. Yield.”

“No!” You couldn’t give up now! Not after everything. Not after the days of studying how pickpockets moved in the streets, sparing with Moon, the waste of Sun’s time and energy for his magic and all your research in the library for sword techniques! You tried too hard to let this be the end of this!

But as you continued to try you were finding that your body was too sore to continue, not even your grip was strong anymore as your arms eventually gave out.

“Do you yield?” Eclipse asks.

You didn’t want to. You hated to. But there was no way around it, you had lost. With no strength in you to continue you nod, tears filled your eyes as you gave in.

Eclipse was quiet for a moment before nodding, lifting up his sword and stepping off of you, “They Yield!”

You weren’t sure if the crowd was cheering because it had been an amazing battle to watch or if some in the crowd were happy you had lost. A large hand helped you sit up as you sniffled, you tried to hide it behind a hand not wanting him to see you like this.

But Eclipse didn’t let you hide tugging your hand away. “You know it’s alright to lose sometimes.” he said, “You gave me a good fight. Even brought in something I didn’t expect from you.” He was smiling.

“Maybe try again sometime.”

With that he stood up and ruffled your hair, the princes came to your side along with Queen Gaia and her assistant. Sun helped you up and let you lean on him, worrying about getting you to a healer but you weren’t quite paying attention as you hid your face into his royal fabric.

You grunted as you practiced with Moon, now healed from your fight with Eclipse two months ago you were back in tip top shape.

You hoped he wouldn’t get mad at the tear stains.

“You’re going to try again?” Moon asked you as he parried your thrust.

“Are you kidding? Course I am!”

“But you were such a crybaby about it!” He teased with a laugh,“What? Are you just a glutton for punishment?”

“Wh-oh shut up! I just have big emotions!” You nearly smack him with the fencing sword as you advanced. Moon swiftly dodged and thrusted his own sword, getting you on your side.

“Ah-! Hey!”

“I win.” He smirked as he lowered his sword, “But really…do you think you can handle another loss? After that performance I’m sure plenty of others would marry you on the spot.”

You sigh and roll your shoulders, “It’s not about marrying someone just to marry someone. I love him. And no one else will do.”

“Then I guess you better be practicing more.” Suddenly he moved forward making you jerk in surprise and just managed to dodge his attack. “Come on. You have better reflexes than that!”

“Oh you sneaky-!” With a yell you pushed back and continued to spar with Moon.

You might have lost the battle, cried about it for a little-well okay you cried about it the whole two months. But you’re not giving up that easily, after all the tears dried up your determination came back in full force!

You’ll keep trying. But if you never win…well at least you can enjoy Eclipse’s company. That’s more than enough.

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I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave comments : )

#fnaf au #royal jesters au #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf eclipse

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multifandomhaven · 1 year

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A/N: So apparently I'm writing for Moon Knight now lol I watched it over the weekend with my daughter and we both fell in love with the character(s).

Prompt - "No, you didn't just call me 'love' you said 'my love'. That makes a huge difference."

You mixed the batter with a quick, steady rhythm, swiping a piece of hair back from your face as you worked. You'd decided to wake a little earlier than normal to prepare a special breakfast - something you'd planned on doing the first time Steven stayed over - and you knew that he had a sweet tooth, so pancakes were the obvious option.

You peeked up and found him hovering by the counter, his attention dancing between you and the mirror that was on the back wall - conversing with Marc, you'd imagined.

"Penny for your thoughts," you said gently. "You look like you're thinking a little too hard."

"I'm just observing," he shrugged as he moved toward you. He wrapped his arms around your middle, leaning his chin on your shoulder, watching as you poured the batter onto the griddle in circles.

You could smell the scent of your soap he'd used not half an hour before, mixed with something that was uniquely him.

You leaned back against his chest, closing your eyes and soaking into the warmth he offered. "Observing what exactly?"

"You. Just you, my love." As soon as the words left his mouth your eyes flew open. The gasp you let out startled Steven enough to release you and turn you around to search for injury. "What? What's happened?"

"What did you say?" your words came out quick, you realized by the shocked look on his face. "Just then, what did you say?"

"That I was observing you?" he furrowed his brows when you shook your head. "What was it then? Love? Do you not want me to call you love?"

You shook your head again, your lips curling a bit at the corners. "No, you didn't just call me 'love' you said 'my love'. That makes a huge difference."

Steven winced and ducked his head a bit, but maintained eye contact. "A good difference or a bad one?"

You pulled him back toward you with the front of his shirt, a beaming smile on your face. You quickly pecked his lips, heart fluttering in your chest as he chased after you, as he always did, never quite ready to let you go.

"A wonderful difference."

#moon knight fanfic #steven grant x reader #marvel #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #fluff #oscar isaac

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phantomspiderr · 9 months

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Love in the Rain

Pairing: Steven Grant x reader

Word Count: 700

Summary: an unexpected downpour turns into a cherished memory

Warnings/tags: fluffflufffluff, uses of the L word, a little suggestive at the end

a/n: i miss moon knight too much

“Steven!” You squeal as he quickly leads you down the cobbled streets, splashing in puddles as he goes. The unexpected downpour had caught you both completely off guard and you can’t remember whose bright idea it was to run back to the hotel instead of just stopping anywhere for shelter from the rain. But here you were both absolutely soaking racing through the streets not really remembering which way was the way back to the hotel.

If this had happened anywhere else, at any other time you would probably be fuming by now but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to even be the slightest bit annoyed. Steven tries his hardest to navigate the unfamiliar streets in hopes one will lead you both in the right way while you just hold his hand and follow blindly behind.

“I think it’s this way!” He quickly calls back to you before turning down another street.

“Steven!” This time he slows for a second and looks at you with slight worry etched on his features and all you can muster is a giggle. He stops completely and gives you a confused look like you’ve gone insane and now you can’t stop as more giggles bubble up in your chest. Why are you both running to get out of the rain when you’re already soaked to the bone?

“Why are you laughing?” Steven can’t help but join in, finding your sudden amusement entertaining too.

“Why are we running?” You manage to get out between giggles and you watch as Steven thinks for just a second before his eyes run over your soaked form. Then he’s shaking his head laughing more with you.

“I have no idea,” his wet curls bounce on his forehead as he laughs and if anyone was to look at you both now they would think you were crazy. Steven tugs you closer by your hand and then his arm slips around your waist. Both your giggles are dying out slowly but huge grins are still plastered on your faces. Both of your arms slide over his shoulders to lazily loop around his neck, fingers ever so slightly scratching the back of his neck.

The water droplets keep hitting your skin and you take a moment to just close your eyes and lean your head back. The rain freely hits all of your face now, you can feel your hair sticking to your neck and face, your clothes uncomfortably clinging to your body but you can’t find it in you to care. You’re in a beautiful foreign country, having the most perfect vacation with your loves and nothing could ruin that, not even an unexpected storm on what was a beautiful sunny morning. The thought is only more solidified when you look back down at Steven, his pretty, cheery face looking back at you.

“I really love you,” Steven’s eyes flicker between yours and your lips, asking for silent permission as if he hasn’t kissed you a million times over. Slowly, you pull him closer, meeting him halfway as you plant your lips on his. The slow kisses soon turn heated, one of Steven’s hands coming up to hold your face while your fingers tangle in his hair. The love you have for each other radiates off of you both, warming your cold skin.

“I really love you too, Steven.” You’ve barely pulled apart, foreheads pressed together and breaths mingle in the small space between you. Steven still has his eyes shut, focusing on regaining his breath.

“Right, come on.” His hands squeeze your hips once and his eyes slowly open as he pulls his head back. “You’ll catch a cold if I don’t get you out of these wet clothes.” There’s a mischievous glint in his eye and your eyebrows raise briefly at the suggestive thoughts now racking your brain. “Pack it in you, come on.”

You giggle at the way it’s as if Steven can read your mind. Then he’s guiding you to walk in front of him, cheekily smacking your ass as you walk. You look back at him in shock and he only chuckles, placing his hand back in yours and walking by your side.

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luna-writes-stuff · 6 months

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Prisoner Of Your Eyes, Steven Grant

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Fanfic, gn! reader

Angst, unresolved tension

Word count: 3505

Tw: So much angst. Neglection of feelings/feelings of unrequited romance in a relationship. Steven loses his mind. One (1) glimpse of Mark. Maybe not an entirely accurate timeline/loyal to the source material. It’s been a hot minute since I watched Moon Knight. Light swearing. That’s it??

Summary: Going into a relationship with Steven, you knew of his poor sleep schedule and occasional absence. You had always made peace with it. But when he didn’t show up on your two-year anniversary after weeks of planning, you couldn’t help but feel a little deflated. Steven tries to make things right, not knowing he’s actually worsening the situation. You became faced with the cold, hard facts.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“When I saw your face I became a prisoner of your eyes. And I would do just anything. To stay and be with you.”

“Hello, this is Steven. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. You can leave a message after the tone and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Cheers.”

That was the sixth time you heard that voicemail. The sixth time. He said he’d be there. On all occasions that he’d leave you standing, he’d have to pick this date.

Going into your relationship with him, you were well aware of his circumstantial loss of time, but lately it had begun to grow worse and worse. There were days he’d go without talking to you, leaving you an anxious mess - leaving no messages and not picking up any phone calls. Be that as it may, you had grown accustomed to it. It might not have been the nicest thought, but you learned to adjust. You knew he loved you, regardless of what he would go through.

But he promised to be here. You watched him set multiple alarms. He had given you the key to his apartment just in case. So there you sat, on his bed, ringing his phone an endless amount of times. Of all days, he had to disappear on your second anniversary. He had missed many big days all year round, so this was his way of making it up. He had reserved a spot at a restaurant, he had bought the gifts, he had taken the day off. And still, he hadn’t been there.

“You know there are times When I let myself wonder As I was going under. You pulled me back to earth.”

You were hesitant to call the seventh time. He wasn’t going to show up. You’d been here for two hours now, and that was after waiting in the restaurant for another two. It was nearly midnight now.

You sighed deeply as you dialled his number again, putting him on speaker as you laid down on his bed. You listened to the seemingly endless ringing, closing your eyes at the horrible sound of it.

“Darling?” Suddenly sounded through the room, causing you to shoot upright, your eyes immediately opened. “Steven?” You tested, just to be sure. A relieved laugh rang through the phone at your question. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear your voice.” As he spoke, you noticed the breathlessness in his voice.

“Steven, where are you?” “I don’t know,” He answered quickly, before you heard something crashing in the background. “What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?” You repeated, now more worried than angry at him. “I have no idea where I am.” He clarified, as if that would ease your thoughts. Then, something loud was heard. Almost like a firework going off.

“What the hell was that?” Another crash followed, and you leaned closer to the phone. “Steven, are you okay?” “Leave me alone!” You frowned at his words, unsure of what to say next. “I’m so sorry, darling,” He suddenly said, in a much softer voice. “Steven, are you okay?” You asked for a second time. A loud crash was heard, followed by silence for a few seconds.

“Do I need to call the police?” “No!” He replied almost immediately. “No, I’m fine.” “Baby, you don’t sound-“ “No,” He interrupted you, yet somehow you knew he wasn’t talking to you. “Leave me alone!” The phone went silent for another few seconds, and you awaited anxiously. “Hello?” You called when you heard rustling on the other side.

“Steven will call you back.”

“Don't you hear me crying? Take me in your arms again. Tell me that you're trying. Or is our love a lie?”

You stayed at his apartment that night. You tried to call after someone hung up on you, but you got no more responses. You had sent him a text in which you said you’d be staying over, and that he shouldn’t be spooked if he found you asleep in his bed. He had read the messages. He simply refused to answer them. And as quickly as the tides changed, your worry transformed back into anger.

Somehow, you still managed to fall asleep that night, clutching Steven’s pillow, his blanket thrown over your figure. On the table was a small basket filled with his favourite snacks, two candles, a book on Egyptian mythology which you were sure he didn’t have yet, a tiny statue of Bastet and a collection of your best pictures with him. You had been so happy and giddy gathering the gift, but now, you only wished you had spent less time and thought into it.

It didn’t take long until the first few tears had fallen. You should have been used to this by now. It wasn’t his fault. Surely, something terrible had happened and he was in some kind of shock. But, he’d still be fine.

Yes; you should have been used to it. This couldn’t have come as a surprise. This far, he had missed both of your birthdays during the two year course of your relationship, he hadn’t shown up to the first and second dinner with your parents, he would stand you up on dates and would occasionally forget the day, and therefore the gifts - if there was any need for it. You had tried to convince yourself how it hadn’t been the most important, but how you would have loved to receive just a single rose on Valentine’s Day.

“Love is blind And love deceives you. You came along and captured me. Now I'm a prisoner of your eyes.”

Though the sun had been up for a long time, it was a new noise that had awoken you. From his small bathroom, you could hear rustling coming, followed by a short, hushed curse. Hesitantly, you stood up, putting distance between you and the bathroom, but so much that you couldn’t see what was happening in there.

“Steven, what the hell happened to you?” You gasped as you noticed the dishevelled state of your boyfriend. He turned around, a sheepish grin on his face: “You really wouldn’t believe.”

You walked closer to him, another gasp escaping you as you noticed the red on his cheek. “Is that blood?!” He looked into the mirror, frowning when he saw his face. “Oh, bullocks.” “Shit!” You cursed, now taking notice of the bruises and cuts forming on his arms. “Did you get mugged?”

The man looked at you hesitantly, unsure of what to say. A lot had happened, most of which he hadn’t even properly processed yet. He wouldn’t even know where to start explaining. Thus, he just sighed, nodding painfully: “Yeah,”

“Trapped in time. I cannot leave you. I'm just a prisoner of your eyes.”

Guilt flooded your senses as you recalled your talk on the phone last night. “I should have called the cops.” “Hey, darling,” Steven immediately tried to comfort, walking up to you as he rested his hands on your upper arms. “It’s okay. I’m fine.” Then he opened his coat, revealing his keys and wallet. “Look; they didn’t steal anything.” But you just shook your head at him in remorse: “Fuck, Steven, I’m so sorry.”

Finally, he pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you loosely as you sighed into his shirt, all anger from last night fading away in his hold. You were just glad he was here now, however painful the experience had been. “It’s not your fault.” He mumbled, before parting from your embrace, hissing slightly as he manoeuvred his arm.

“Are you okay?” You asked, holding his arm gently as you tried to pull up his sleeves, now noticing the complete blue colour of his biceps. “My arm kind of hurts.” He tried to lighten, but you shook your head at him. “I’m calling you in sick.” “You don’t even work at the museum.” “Donna knows my face.” You countered, already walking up to his phone. Quickly, Steven followed you, placing his hand on your shoulder to make you halt: “I can work.” “Absolutely not. If not for your physical health, then for your head.”

When he didn’t seem convinced, your shoulders dropped, looking at him in defeat. The dark circles underneath his eyes only seemed amplified, and empathy flooded your senses as you observed him more closely. “Jesus, you need some rest.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“As each day goes by I've given up completely. I've locked myself inside your heart And thrown away the key.”

You had helped him get cleaned up, not asking any more about the mugging. You figured it had been a sensitive topic, which you completely understood. When Steven was finally in some fresh clothes and his wounds had been cleaned, he sat on top of the bed, fatigue seemingly settling into his features the moment his body touched the mattress.

His eyes wandered the room, lingering on you for a while until they came to rest on the gift you had gotten him: “What’s that?” A light smile accompanied him as he said the words, almost as if he wasn’t expecting any gifts.

That was because he wasn’t. In all his experiences, he must have forgotten what you had initially been celebrating last night. Your features fell at his innocent smile, a dull knife suddenly piercing your heart as a shallow feeling entered your stomach.

“Your anniversary gift.” You mumbled, too tired to even pretend it was okay. The man fell silent at your words, remorse clearly displayed in his eyes: “Darling, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well…” You trailed off. “Wasn’t your fault. You got mugged.”

Walking up to the door, you pointed your thumb to it. “I’m gonna go.” You tried to say nonchalantly, but it probably came out more broken than you had intended. “You can stay.” Steven offered, but you dismissed it quickly, a lump now forming in your throat. You didn’t know how to feel. “I stayed to make sure you would come home safe. I’m going.”

If he wanted to object, he could have. Part of you almost wanted to beg him to stay. But he didn’t. Instead, a soft ‘okay’ came out. He didn’t even stand up to try to see you out. He just remained on his bed. The dull knife in your heart began to twist.

“Take care.” You told him, opening the door for yourself.

“Cheers.”

“Only time will tell If I can live without you. Can you see into the future? Will you ever set me free?”

You were glad you had taken the day off. Not only were you still exhausted after the small amount of sleep you had gotten out of worry for Steven, an uncomfortable feeling had begun to settle within you. Part of you wanted to shout at Steven. You wanted to be mad at him so badly. You wanted to curse him, and to tell him how horrible he had been.

On the other hand, you felt incredibly guilty. He had been mugged last night and you hadn’t called the cops to check on him. You had heard the crashes in the background - and those fireworks had to be gunshots. You could have cried upon the realisation. He had been in genuine danger and you hadn’t even warned anyone. A complete stranger had taken over his phone and had hung up on you: all the signs had been there.

Then there was the part that felt stupid. Not angry at Steven, not guilty for what you had done to him: it felt stupid. You knew what you were getting into from the start. This shouldn’t have surprised you - you could have anticipated this. Why were you so torn up about it if you could have known? You were so foolish to think you could celebrate one anniversary.

“Don't you hear me crying? Take me in your arms again. Tell me that you're trying. Or is our love a lie?”

Your phone had been ringing all day, but you had no energy to answer it. Maybe it was petty, but you knew who was calling. You didn’t feel like talking to him. Perhaps you should have, considering all he had went through. But you needed your time too.

You didn’t make that as clear as you might have hoped.

It was around seven at night when there was clear knocking on the door. You had been in the living room, laying on the couch of which you hadn’t gotten off the entire day. You weren’t specifically watching anything. The TV had just been on and you were watching whatever stupid game show it had been presenting. You were out of it all day. A much needed groan needed to be uttered as you got up, your muscles protesting with your movements.

Perhaps this was a new form of low for you, but you just wanted some rest. Apparently, that was very hard to come by on a free day.

“Love is blind And love deceives you. You came along and captured me. Now I'm a prisoner of your eyes.”

When you opened the door, you weren’t surprised to find Steven standing there, in his working gear. Something about that made you even more angry than you were before.

“You weren’t picking up your phone.” He spoke, as if it was the most obvious thing to him. He walked in without invitation, wiping his shoes on the doormat as he walked into the living room. You widened your eyes at his actions, but didn’t comment on them.

“This is going to sound insane, but the craziest thing happened to me today.” He began to rant, sitting down on the couch you had occupied the entire day, ignoring the glass of water, tissues, and discarded lucifers. “There was this jackal hunting me in the museum, and there was a man ranting on and on about Egyptian avatars.” He spoke in one breath, giving you no time to interrupt him or answer him.

"And then I think a god showed up. You know? Khonsu, the god of the moon.” He looked at you, expecting you to understand him. You didn’t know what to tell him. Five minutes ago you were crying right where he was sitting, and now he was rambling on about his hobby chasing him and communicating with him.

You blankly nodded at him, before he continued. “Well, he spoke to me. And there was this other dude who spoke to me as well. And then I fought the jackal, I think. But here’s the weirdest thing,” He stood up, walking towards you as if he was going to sell you the invention of the century. “The camera doesn’t show any of this. I mean, that must be some kind of complot or something, right?”

You couldn’t suppress the shaky sigh that escaped you. Now close enough to you, Steven noticed your red eyes and swollen cheeks, his expression softening as his entire voice became much more gentle. “Hey, have you been crying?”

“Trapped in time. I cannot leave you. I'm just a prisoner of your eyes.”

“Steven,” You dismissed. “When was the last time you slept?” “No, I’m serious.” He returned, his face now no longer as caring as it had been seconds ago. “So am I.” You countered, crossing your arms in desperation, your eyebrows furrowed together in a mixture of worry and sadness.

“What?” The man stuttered surprised. “Do you not believe me?”

Of course you didn’t. But you weren’t going to tell him that. The poor soul was probably still in some form of shock. Thus, you tried to soothe him: “Sure I do-“ “You don’t sound convinced.” Steven jumped in, rapidly ticking his fingers against his arm as he thought out his words.

“But I think you might have just been shaken up by the accident yesterday.” You continued, ignoring his protests and doubt. His mouth opened in an ‘ah’ of understanding: “But, you see, I wasn’t mugged.”

And there it was, yet again. That sinking feeling in your stomach. Twist the knife, drop the butterflies. Your whole body just felt empty now. He had never lied to you before.

“Beg your pardon?”

“In this heartache. We can try and start again. Stop the heartbreak. A little time will help to kill the pain.”

“I woke up in some weird cult, with the same dude who talked to me today about Egyptian deities and their avatars, actually!” “You weren’t mugged?” You repeated, making sure you had heard him correctly. “No,” He answered. “But are you listening?” “Why would you lie to me?”

Steven’s expression fell slightly as he noticed the wobble in your lower lip. “I was just very confused yesterday, and I didn’t want to worry you,” He began genuinely. “But do you not see the connection?”

An incredulous sigh left you as you thought over everything you had been through this morning and the night prior to it: “I was worried about you all night yesterday, and you couldn’t give me straight answers.” “It was a very stressful day!” Steven tried to defend. “You told me you didn’t know where you were. And you told me you were mugged.” “Well, I don’t know where I was, but it was terrifying.” He bundled up his sleeve, showing you the bruises you had been treating only hours ago. “I think I actually got this from a fight.” “You were in a fight?” You repeated, your voice growing louder in surprise and offence.

“Yeah! And somehow I won.”

His hands found yours, rubbing them affectionately. “And now I don’t know how to feel. It’s so scary and ominous, but also exciting, if that makes sense.”

“Don't you hear me crying? Take me in your arms again. Tell me that you're trying. Or is our love a lie?”

He sighed loudly, looking into your eyes, a somewhat crestfallen expression within them. “I don’t really know what to do. You always know just what to do and what to say. Figured you might be able to help.”

With that, you dropped his hands, walking towards the door: “Get out.” He stood there frozen, unsure of what you were saying. “Beg your pardon?” “I’m tired, Steven,” You sighed. “Get out.” “But I need your help.” He pleaded, following you like a lost puppy, trying to grab your hands again.

“And I need you,” You argued, your voice coming out more emotional than you had intended. Tears began to build again, but you swallowed them down. “Steven, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been falling apart lately. And every time I need you, you’re not there.” You opened the door, signalling towards it: “I knew what I began the moment we started going out, but it’s getting worse. Please, get some help.” “Darling, I’m so-“ “Just,” You muttered. “Not now. Call me tomorrow and we can talk.”

As he walked outside, you looked at him, offering him a sincere look: “I hope you figure it out, Steven. I really hope you do.” “Yeah,” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ll talk with you tomorrow. Love you.”

You didn’t return it - you just watched him leave, turmoil setting into your stomach: “Goodnight.”

“Love is blind And love deceives you. You came along and captured me. Now I'm a prisoner of your eyes.”

It was stupid how you waited by the phone the next day. How you had purposefully left your sound on during work, hoping to receive his call. Maybe you had been a bit harsh last night, but he deserved to know somehow.

However much you still loved him, he always left you hanging when you needed him most. And when you finally thought that perhaps it had been you who was just thinking too much of it, he had taken up lying to you. Steven was as honest and kind as they came and he had lied to you. You didn’t know what happened to him, but you really did wish he had someone to help him figure it out.

It was late in the afternoon when you finally finished your shift. Steven hadn’t been waiting there with his usual after-work snack, or that dorky smile that always accompanied it. He was always there, but not today. Maybe it was time to dial him. Perhaps he had somehow forgotten.

You stood there on the curb, waiting patiently as the phone rang a few times. The longer you had to wait, the more hollow your stomach became. When the ringing finally stopped, a light flutter flew through you, though it immediately died down as you heard his voice over the phone.

“Hello, this is Steven. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. You can leave a message after the tone and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Cheers.”

“Trapped in time I cannot leave you. I'm just a prisoner of your eyes.”

#November writings 2023 #mcu #marvel #moon knight #oscar isaac #steven Grant #steven grant x reader

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ofstarsandvibranium · 11 months

Text

To Have & To Hold: Part 2

Fandom: Marvel - Moon Knight (Mafia AU)

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Summary: To ensure you’re always safe even after his passing, your father, a mob boss, makes you marry his right hand, Marc Spector. You don’t necessarily hate Marc, but you don’t get along either. Therefore, this marriage of convenience may be a bit difficult for you.

Series Masterlist

You and Marc sit across from each other at a restaurant. Your father had made a reservation for the two of you in a private room. You slump back, arms crossed over your chest, glaring at the bubbles in your champagne.

Marc sits up, back straight. He's alert but his eyes are on you, watching you. It's been fairly silent between the two of you since you both arrived to the restaurant.

He finally speaks up, "You gonna speak or somethin'?"

"Why would you agree to this?" you look at him in disbelief, "I mean, besides being my dad's successor in the business, what could you possibly gain marrying me?"

"Is it hard to believe that I care about you?" he responds with his own question which makes you snort.

"Marc, yes, you've worked for my father for a long time. We see each other a lot, but I wouldn't necessarily count us as friends."

A server comes and refills your glass, even though you've barely had a sip, and refills Marc's whiskey. Marc gives him a nod of thanks and when they're gone, he looks back to you. He leans forward, resting his arms on the table, "Listen, I owe your father a lot. He's done a lot for me. You wanna know why I'm marrying you? Because I owe him and, despite your belief, I care about you."

You scoff, you seem to be doing that a lot since earlier today, "Right, sure. Whatever. If we're actually going through with this, I get to plan ninety percent of this wedding. Got it?"

Marc holds his hands up and leans back in his chair, "Whatever you want, sunshine." He proceeds to open the menu and take a look, "I don't know about you, but I'm starving and I'm tired of waiting for you to get out with this mood," he waves his hand in your direction.

You roll your own eyes and take a look at the menu. This is going to be a long dinner.

_______________

Plates empty, stomachs full, and three glasses of champagne later, the dinner was finally over. You and Marc made, surprisingly, good conversation. He asked you about your charity organization. Throughout the entire time, Marc kept his focus on you, nodding and occasionally pushing for you to share more.

You asked about him, however, he wasn't very keen to talk about his past. You understood. You remember when he started working for you dad. All your father told you was that he's had a troubled past, but he gets stuff done. So your father took him under his wing. From what Marc told you, he was a former Marine and mercenary.

"I wanted to serve my country but...in the process, I hurt a lot of people." You could see the regret in his eyes.

"No offense, Marc, but if you don't like hurting people, getting into the mafia business isn't necessarily a way to-I don't know-cleanse your soul?"

He shrugged, "I learned to turn that all off. I don't always rough people up, like you may think. I do reconnaissance sometimes or, ya know, trail after Miss Sunshine," he nodded towards you and you stuck your tongue at him. He smirked and his eyes darkened. You suddenly felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze and began to down more of your champagne.

Now, the dinner is over and you're sleepy.

You stand up and collect your things. Neither of you had to pay because the server told you that your father handled it. As the two of you exited the restaurant, Marc's hand went to your lower back as he guided you to the sidewalk.

"Did you drive here?"

You shake your head, "Nope. I took an uber. They should be here soon."

"Cancel it." Marc doesn't ask but demands.

You wave away his demand, "I'll be fine."

"Y/N," he gives you a warning tone, "Cancel. It."

You glare at him and say with as much ferocity, "Make. Me."

He swiftly pulls your phone from your grasp and you're immediately trying to get it back.

"Wah-hey! Marc! Give it back!" your pleads are deaf on his ears as he manages to unlock your phone, go to the Uber app, and cancels your ride. As soon as he does so, he pockets your phone.

On cue, the valet drives up with Marc's car, "Get in." He opens the passenger door for you and waits.

You sigh in defeat as you climb into his Rolls Royce Cullinan. He closes the door behind you and hands the valet some cash before thanking him and getting in.

He snorts when he sees you checking out his car, "What's wrong?"

"Didn't expect you to have a car like this."

"Seatbelt on," he reminds you. After he sees you buckle up, he explains, "I never had anything super nice. Figured since your dad paid me so well, I'd buy a nice car."

"You seemed like a Tesla guy to me."

"Fuck Tesla," Marc says and that makes you laugh for some reason. His own smile makes a way on his face and he quickly glances your way before focusing back on the road.

A part of you wants to compliment his smile but...is that weird? Is it weird to tell your future fiance that you're being forced to marry that his smile is nice? Maybe?

Too many mental gymnastics made you eventually decide not to say thing. The rest of the ride is silent, but not an awkward or tense silence like before dinner started.

He doesn't say anything until the car rolls up to your apartment building. He quickly rushes out and helps you out, guiding you to the door, where your doorman, Stan, opens it for you.

Before you enter, you turn to Marc, "Um, tonight was...nice?"

He nods, "I know this is gonna be hard for you. But I would like to be friends if we're marrying each other."

"Right. Yeah, that-that makes sense."

"You'll probably be seeing more of me too."

"Of course," you're suddenly unsure of what else to say Marc and he could probably sense this.

"Good night, sunshine. Sweet dreams."

"Yeah, thanks. You too." you give him a small wave before walking into your building. Through the window, you watch him drive away.

When you're finally in your apartment, you get into your jammies and launch yourself into bed. You recall how tonight and...wait...why do you feel all fluttery inside???

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marvel au #moon knight #mafia au #mob boss au #mob au

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nanamisflowerfield · 3 months

Text

Moonlit Meetings, Conversations And A Promise (Dick Grayson x f!Reader)

︵✿︵︵✿︵︵✿︵︵✿︵︵✿︵︵✿︵︵✿︵

Nightwing meets the Reader on a rooftop, talking and joking around with her, while watching the stars. Their second encounter turns to one of many others. And in the meantime, Reader meets Officer Dick Grayson and falls in love with him, not knowing that him - Nightwing - starts falling head over heels in love with her as well.

︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶

(Y/N) always thought of Blüdhaven to be boring, but when she met a certain black-haired vigilante that saved her live in a dark warehouse, the investigative journalist changed her mind. The city was better than she had expected.

But there was one thing that she always had loved. Even before meeting Nightwing or the interesting officer. It was the night sky.

Every night, the (h/c) woman climbed fire stairs of her apartment up, to sit on the rooftop, watching the bright stars that shined up in the dark night sky. A beautiful sight.

And like every day and night, the city of Blüdhaven continued its restless rhythm, just like the journalist, who found herself drawn to the rooftop.

As the moon cast its glow, Nightwing descended gracefully, drawn to the figure on the rooftop. The sound of his boots landing softly on the concrete alerted (Y/N) to his presence. It has been a week since they have met. She turned slowly, but offered a warm smile, when she noticed the vigilante.

“Hey, Nightwing. What brings you here?” she asked, the stars reflected in her (e/c) eyes.

“Just checking in on my favorite investigative journalist,” Nightwing replied with a playful smirk that graced his lips.

(Y/N) chuckled, “Flattery will get you everywhere, but be careful. You might give Clark Kent a run for his money in the charm department.”

The man in front of you only raised his eyebrow, smirk still on its place, before he shook his head. You only turned back to the stars, watching them and hearing the footsteps of the vigilante, who stood now next to you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just needed some fresh air aaand….” You pointed to the streets. “… for this. The view is just wonderful.” He nodded, leaning on the fences of the rooftop. “How are you doing, Knight-In-Tight-Spandex?” Nightwing couldn’t stop himself, as he laughed at his new nickname. “Really?” You only shrugged your shoulders, smiling to yourself.

“Well… I’m tired.” You only hummed, knowing that feeling to well to be so damn tired. After all, you were always tired due to your job, but you loved it and would never give it up so easily. Just like the man next to you. “A coffee could help.”

The blackhead only nodded, “Yeah. I might need to get one as soon as possible. Gotta go… See ya, journalist.” – “It’s (Y/N). And bye, Sir Spandex.”

You watched him jump down and swinging through the lighted streets, while you smiled at him, not knowing that this little encounter was one of many others.

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You sipped on your hot beverage, nearly burning your tongue as you were too impatient to wait for it to get colder. You walked past a couple, nearly bumping into them, but you were stubborn and didn’t gave up your beverage and your notepad that you held tightly in your fists. Your steps got faster and faster, just wanting to reach the place and here you were.

The newest crime scene of Blüdhaven.

And there were a bunch of cops and of course more journalists. Great.

With a sigh, you tried to squeeze yourself through the large crowd that has gathered in front of the place. All of them wanted to know what was has happened. Just like you were. But perhaps you were too weak or these tall damn idiots were too strong, as you couldn’t get too far into the crowd. Your fingers went through your hair, messing them up, but not caring at all, while your gaze moved around until you found a small gap, far away from everyone.

Sneakily, you tried to walk to the gap, until you heard someone clearing their throat. You turned around, eyes moving from a chest up to the person’s face to only notice him. The officer that you met last week! “Long time no see, (L/N).” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Nervously, you scratched your neck, letting out a small laugher. “Heeey, there… Uhmm…” – “Officer Dick Grayson.”

Now you finally had a name for this handsome face.

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N) from the Blüdhaven Bulletin.” You raised your arm, shaking his hand as he nodded his head, already knowing you due to your big headline. “Uhm right… You already know me.”

He shook his head, chuckling at you. The sun dipped on him, making him look so much more attractive than he already was. Damn…

“So,” He started while glancing into your eyes with his beautiful ocean blue eyes, “when are you going to interview Nightwing? I’m already excited to read more of your work.” He leaned now on a wall, closing the small gap that you wanted to use.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “I'm not sure he's the interview type. Besides, he's a bit… elusive?”

Dick grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You might be surprised. He's got a soft spot for determined journalists.”

Determined… That’s what you were indeed. He surely wasn’t the first one to describe you as determined.

Their eyes met, and smiles blossomed on their faces. The world around them seemed to fade into the background as they engaged in easy banter, laughing and joking as if they had known each other for years. The chemistry between them was undeniable, forging a connection that defied explanation.

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Days turned into weeks, and your encounters with the police officer Dick Grayson became more frequent. You'd bump into him at crime scenes, exchange banter, and slowly, a connection formed. He admired your determination, your refusal to back down, and you found solace in his easygoing nature.

And at nights, on your lovely and chill rooftop, you would meet up with Nightwing. The joking vigilante, that loved to tease you, while you sipped on your hot drinks. And the masked man would drink the coffee you would make in your apartment for him. It had become a routine for her to bring him a cup of coffee, a gesture of friendship and an excuse to spend more time together. (Y/N) often found herself meeting Nightwing even when she was clad in her pajamas and messy hair, her vulnerability laid bare. The vigilante would chuckle, appreciating her carefree nature and admiring her even more for her willingness to be herself around him.

As many nights unfolded, you and Nightwing shared stories, dreams, and laughter.

Little did you know that beneath the mask, Dick Grayson harbored a secret of his own. More than just one…

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Small POV change…

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

As their friendship grew deeper, the more felt Dick conflicted. He had always been drawn to Batgirl, their on-and-off relationship reflecting their complex connection. Yet, as he spent more time with (Y/N), a sweet but sassy journalist, he couldn't deny the feelings he had for her.

Dick knew that he cared for (Y/N) in a way that surpassed friendship. Her laughter, her support, and her understanding gaze made his heart skip beats. Something that Barbara couldn’t do. But he was with the redhead. Someone he always knew.

His hands rubbed over his masked eyes, while being deep in thoughts.

The quiet night sky hung above the city, countless stars gracing them. It truly was a beautiful sight. The only thing that could have been heard were a few cars and… footsteps?

“A penny for your thoughts?” The woman he was thinking about stood there, in one hand, two steaming cups and with the other hand a dollar and a mischievous glint in her (e/c) eyes.

Nightwing looked at her irritated. A dollar? A small chuckle left his lips.

He teased back, “You know, you're supposed to give me a penny, not a dollar.”

“Sorry, I don't have a penny with me. Also... I wanted to see you smile.”

Nightwing laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet night. “You're something else, (Y/N).” – “I know.”

They stood there, leaning on the fence, gazes up high towards the bright stars that shined their lights on the two. “I… I need your advice.” He whispered under his breath, surprising both of them. “You have a problem?” He nods.

“I'm in a bit of a situation…” He admitted, hand going through his dark locks. “I'm with my ex again… We kinda have this on-and-off-relationship, but there's someone else I can't stop thinking about. She is great and funny. Sweet… At times.” He chuckled to himself, describing the one person that stood next to him. “She is amazing… And I think that I might like her more than well… My current girlfriend… I'm not sure what to do.” She glanced down to her cup, the hot drink bringing her warmth at the cold weather.

She considered his words carefully. “Love is a complicated thing, but you deserve to be with someone who makes you truly happy. So uhm… You should follow your heart. If you're falling for someone else, it's not fair to your girlfriend or yourself to stay in a relationship that doesn't feel right. She is smart. She will notice is sooner or later, that you won’t love her as much as she loves you. Maybe…” She gulps and glanced up to the vigilante, who listened to every word that escaped her lips.

“… Maybe… You have to break up with her. But it’s your decision. Just follow your heart and everything will be alright.” She leaned towards him, bumping him lightly with her shoulder, as his lips turned up and formed a small smile.

“I trust that you will male the right choice.” (Y/N) said, sipping her drink. “But promise me one thing.”

His eyes moved to her. (e/c) eyes meeting masked ones. “Promise me, that you will do something about your little problem and don’t just shove it away. You have to confront it.” Of course, she would say that.

“I want you to solve your problem within this week.”

Nightwing’s eyes widen at her. What did she just say?

“Within this week, I want you to talk to your girlfriend and either break up with her and confess to your new lover or ask her out oooor… You know… Try to stop having feeling for the other girl and focus on your girlfriend. You have a week, Nightwing. Make it count. I just hope that it works out, I mean… on-and-off-relationship? Uff… That’s hard, buddy.”

The vigilante only started laughing, knowing that she was trying to cheer him up with small jokes and comments that she threw in here and there. Nightwing's eyes held a mixture of gratitude and longing. “I promise.”

He cleared his throat, smirk plastered on his face. “What about you? Do you fancy someone?”

She nearly choked on her drink, coughing a little bit. “Uhhh… Why?” The vigilante only shrugged, looking at her interested.

“Urgh… Yeah… But if you will tell him, I will beat you up, okay? I’m not afraid of a guy in spandex.” He chuckled at her threat. “Sure. Now tell me!”

(E/C) eyes moved away from the tall man, ignoring his childish puppy dog eyes. “I know that you know him due to your work and all, so please don’t tell him…” Nightwing pretended to zip his mouth and lock it with an imaginary key, which he threw away.

“It’s… Officer Grayson.” She mumbled, drinking the rest of her drink and not noticing the smile on the black-haired man’s lips. “Let’s talk about uhhh… Dogs! Do you have one? Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t you dare to tease me, Nightwing!”

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With newfound determination and summoning his strength, Dick went to his girlfriend, Barbara Gordon. He walked the to her apartment in Gotham and when Dick has arrived, started rambling and trying to talk about things that were quite off topic, but the redhead knew that something was off. She knew Dick for a long time by now. “What’s wrong, Dick?” She finally asked and the black-haired man stood in front of her, taking a deep breath.

He had to decide.

And when he closed his eyes, his mind and heart yelled only one name. (Y/N) (L/N).

Gently, Dick confessed his feelings, that he felt in love with another woman and apologized to Barbara. As he was sitting on her couch, telling her how he met a journalist and everything that has happened, she smiled at him, shaking her head. To his surprise, she had sensed the change in his heart and had her own suspicions. “We both knew that it wouldn’t work out for us… But I’m happy that you found someone, Dick. Don’t worry. Please be happy, confess to her and don’t you dare to break her heart, because she sounds like a great woman.”

His head rose. “She is.”

And that’s how Dick Grayson kept his promise.

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Small POV change again…

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Meanwhile, you found yourself missing both Nightwing and Dick Grayson during the week. It was weird how both of them were gone, but perhaps… Work was just in the way… right? Yet, you carried on with your work. You had to.

On the last day of that week, you focused on capturing photos for an article. As you walked through the crime scene, a familiar voice caught you off guard. Officer Dick Grayson. Remembering the last conversation and the fact that you told an idiotic vigilante that you had indeed a crush on the mentioned officer – gaining many teasing comments from the damn vigilante – you glanced away from the tall and handsome man, taking another picture.

“Would you go out on a date with me?” You heard the voice ask, making you nearly drop your camera out of shock.

Surprised yet elated, you felt a warmth spread through you. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, the realization hitting you like a punch in the face. Dick Grayson and Nightwing were gone at the same time. Both have the same appearance and their voices… They sound similar… Nightwing also has promised you that he will confess to or ask his crush out – well perhaps – depending on his choices… But he wanted to do it within this week! Could it be possible? No? Or maybe yes…

It wouldn’t surprise you, as your best friend was a superhero, so the chances of Dick Grayson being a vigilante are there… But you wouldn’t tell him about your little theory. It was just a theory and the chances of him were there but very small. There were after all, many people living in Blüdhaven…

Forget it. It wasn’t the time to think about it. You should start thinking about other things and finally give the man of your dreams an answer. A blush tinted your cheeks as you nodded, “I would love to.”

…

And later that same night, you were on the rooftop, heart jumping in excitement, as you heard footsteps. “Hey, there.” You turned to the man you were just thinking about.

He waved, a smile tugs on his lips as well. “Nightwing, did you ask out your crush?” She asked immediately, awaiting an answer.

Nightwing, leaning on the fence, taking the cup she held for him into his own. “Yes, I did. And she said yes.” His face showed you a mix of relief and joy. “I would never break a promise to you.”

You two smiled at each other, sipping on your drinks and talking about your week. A normal thing that you both did during a moonlit meeting in Blüdhaven at night.

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#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dc comics x reader #dc comics #nightwing x reader #nightwing #city lights and secret meetings

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claymoresword · 1 year

Text

The Same Hunger

Rhaenyra Targaryen x Alicent Hightower

Summary: After a long day all Alicent longs for is some alone time with her dear wife.

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Alicent Hightower

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: smut, porn with no plot, top!rhaenyra, bottom!alicent

Note: i watched that scene of olivia in vanity fair for the first time last week and it has been haunting me ever since.

alicent is definitely a bottom bordering on pillow princess sorry that's my reality!

anyway, i had so much fun with this i hope u enjoy it the same let me know what u think :)

not my gifs !

"The Sea Snake is requesting assistance from the crown, he has been fighting fiercely alongside Prince Daemon for many moons now." Lord Lannister says.

"I believe it would be wise to heed his request." The master of coin, chimes in.

Alicent sighs, the damn stepstones again. How she wishes Rhaenyra were here.

"Can we afford it?"

"I believe so, your Grace."

"Very well, come to his aide."

The council is silent for many moments and Alicent let's out a long awaited breath of relief. This meeting has gone on far later than intended.

"If there is nothing else of importance then let us be finished." Alicent announces and stands, taking her leave.

The men bow before making their own way out.

Alicent is speedwalking through Maegor's Holdfast, greeting anybody along the way with a gracious smile. From handmaidens to kitchen workers, they all stopped in their tracks to curtsey before their beloved Queen consort.

She soon walks past Rhaenyra's personal guard, Ser Arryk? She guesses.

"Ah, Ser Arryk, is the Queen in her chambers?"

"It's Erryk, your Grace." The Knight shuffles uncomfortably at the prospect of correcting a Queen.

"My apologies, Erryk." Alicent quickly says. She was admittedly not surprised at her mistake, she can never tell them apart.

"Aye, her Grace is in her chambers. My post has ended for the night, Ser Criston will be taking over for me."

"Very well, thank you Ser."

Alicent finds herself humming as she walks down the hallway to Rhaenyra's apartments. A welcomed flutter in her belly, she was excited to see her wife after a terribly long day.

Ser Criston greets her with a smile.

"Your Grace."

"Is she in there?"

Criston merely nods and steps aside to let Alicent through.

Alicent is met with the sight of her wife at her desk ruffling through a mountain of unanswered scrolls.

She looks distressed and Alicent's own face contorts sympathetically.

Rhaenyra finally spots her wife and the expression on her face is nothing short of relief, Alicent's heart constricts longingly at the sight.

"Your Grace." She smirks, curtseying at her wife before making her way over to her.

Alicent situates herself on her wife's lap, Rhaenyra's hands rest on her waist before leaning in. Her tongue entering her wife's mouth almost immediately, a kiss that lacked propriety.

Rhaenyra undoubtedly missed Alicent just as much today.

"You stink."

Alicent whispers as their lips disconnected, earning a genuine laugh. She recognises the familiar stench of dragon, over the years she has learnt to tolerate but has never gotten used to it.

"I know. I did not get the chance to bathe after riding, today has been dreadfully busy."

Alicent looks over at the several pieces of parchment sitting on her wife's desk.

"Truthfully, half of these are proposals of marriage to our Helaena, from Lords all over the realm."

Rhaenyra answers before Alicent even says anything.

"Hm"

Alicent stands and makes her way to her bedside, taking off her earrings.

"We must make her choose soon, Alicent."

"Mhm" Alicent only hums in response and she steps out of her dress and into her night clothes.

"Off to bed already, dear wife?"

Alicent looks up at the other woman, amused.

"Its nearly past the hour of the owl, Rhaenyra."

The queen glances out the window. She hadn't realised it was that late already.

"Oh."

Rhaenyra quickly looks down, resuming her work.

"Though, I have no plans to sleep." Alicent says under her breath but as expected, her wife remains oblivious.

Alicent bites her lip hiding a grin, she makes her way over to Rhaenyra again.

Snatching the Old King's crown from Rhaenyra's head, she cheekily places it on top of her own.

The targaryen beams before looking up, she watches as Alicent climbs onto the edge of the bed, situating herself on her knees peering at her wife.

"It definitely suits you." Rhaenyra says as she fights the urge to gawk.

Alicent was utterly breathtaking even like that.

Especially like that.

"I need to finish going over these endless correspondents."

Rhaenyra says but she is mostly pleading.

She watches as Alicent runs her hands along her own legs, deliberately pulling up her nightgown exposing more of her thighs.

"Alicent.." Rhaenyra begs again.

Alicent moves to widen her legs, a gesture she knew Rhaenyra could never resist.

Rhaenyra shoots up from her seat and Alicent bites her lip.

Her wife now standing before her, Alicent juts out her bottom lip innocently and looks up at Rhaenyra through her eyelashes.

"I've missed you terribly, Your Grace."

Alicent says, her hands now pulling up her gown further, settling them right over her center.

Rhaenyra's eyes flit down to her hand placement and Alicent feels her body hum in anticipation.

Alicent bravely tugs at the hem of Rhaenyra's breeches and the targaryen snaps, crashing their lips into a heated kiss.

Guiding Alicent further back, the crown now falls off her head and rolls off the bed. Finally crashing onto the ground with a loud clank.

Alicent's hand finds the back of Rhaenyra's neck, her legs wrapping around the other woman's waist. She suppresses the urge to grind her core against Rhaenyra's.

"You dare taunt me, dear wife?"

Rhaenyra growls and Alicent throws her head back, pursing her lips an attempt to hold in a moan.

Rhaenyra tilts her head to place a sloppy kiss against her wife's neck, her teeth grazing the skin, she bites down and Alicent chokes out a moan in both pain and pleasure.

The targaryen slips her hand underneath Alicent's nightgown reveling at the feeling of her wife arching her back as soon as her palm came into contact with her bare stomach.

Rhaenyra's hand finds Alicent's breast and she kneads before roughly pinching one of her nipples.

A louder, desperate moan escapes Alicent's lips.

"Rhaenyra.. I want it off please." Alicent whimpers as she begins to pull her own gown over her head, Rhaenyra lets her.

She quickly takes Alicent's nipples into her mouth, licking and sucking in the way she knows her wife enjoys best.

"Yes.."

Alicent does not attempt to suppress it, she moans loudly again.

"Quiet." Rhaenyra scolds, enjoying the whine of protest that escapes her wife's lips.

Rhaenyra licks her way down to Alicent's navel, kissing and nipping at the surrounding area. Alicent's chest is heaving as she squirms at the feeling of her wife's hot mouth on her.

The targaryen wastes no time in moving further down, her mouth coming into contact with Alicent's center. Her tongue moves expertly, pleasuring her wife as if her entire livelihood depended on it.

Alicent's hand moves to her hair gripping a fistful of it as she grinds against Rhaenyra's tongue wantonly.

She is now panting and moaning with every movement of Rhaenyra's tongue. She can feel her climax rapidly approaching.

Her legs begin to shake and her grip on Rhaenyra tightens and she nearly screams when her wife stops her movements pulling her mouth away.

"What are you doing? Rhaenyra don't stop." Alicent pleads, desperately seeking the friction to achieve her release. She finds Rhaenyra's thigh and starts grinding, her weeping pussy causing the fabric of her wife's slacks to soak through.

"Gods Alicent hold on, don't come yet. Get on top."

Rhaenyra tries to flip their positions but Alicent is not listening. She feels her wife tremble beneath her as she moved her hips against her thigh. She groans at the feeling, the mere sight of Alicent chasing her orgasm drove her insane. Rhaenyra's hand moves to her wife's abdomen at an attempt to still her movements but it was too late.

Alicent comes undone, she moans loudly as her mouth falls open. The intense orgasm ripping through her.

Rhaenyra watches her wife in awe, she is just so fucking beautiful.

Alicent opens her eyes, finally meeting Rhaenyra's darkened gaze.

She feels the heat creep up to her face and Rhaenyra notices, leaning down she kisses Alicent tenderly, a wordless reassurance.

Rhaenyra swiftly flips them over, Alicent was now straddling her lap. She soothingly runs her hands up Alicent's side.

"Can you go again?"

Alicent nods eagerly as she peers down at her, already moving against her wife's clothed center.

Rhaenyra takes the opportunity to lift her own night shirt over her head.

She sits up, placing a kiss on her wife's collarbone.

Her hand finding Alicent's core she slips two fingers into her entrance until she was knuckle deep.

Alicent whimpers at the feeling of her wife's fingers stretching her out. Her hand gripping the back of Rhaenyra's neck for support.

Rhaenyra begins pumping her fingers in and out and Alicent moves against her fingers matching her rhythm.

"You are so beautiful, Alicent."

She says against her wife's ear and she can feel her grip tighten, moving harder against Rhaenyra's fingers.

Alicent's reaches her climax for the second time that night. Panting, she slumps against Rhaenyra and her wife holds her close placing tender kisses against her shoulder.

Rhaenyra allows Alicent to catch her breath for another moment before speaking.

"We're not done. Get on your knees."

Rhaenyra leans to the side grabbing her crown off the floor, she places it on top of her own head.

Alicent shudders, her wife is tenacious and she realises it's partly her fault for provoking her in the first place.

#alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen smut #alicent hightower smut #alicent x rhaenyra #rhaenicent #rhaenicent smut #hotd #criston cole #alicent hightower x rhaenyra targaryen

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