#to be fair almost no one is saying this about young royals | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellarkeselection · 1 month

Text

1 - Welcoming the Bridgerton’s

Part 2

The Venus Muse

Here's the first chapter y'all! I am sorry to say that I couldn't tag some of you that asked to be added. If you could give me an update profile tag I will add you that way.

Buckingham Palace was always busy with something going on. The royal castle had many children over the years running around it. I knew this place better than anyone else could imagine. And that truth will help me change my life forever.

“Your highness, which tiara would you wish for today?” One of my handmaidens named Sunset asked me.

She was standing by my table vanity that had quite a few tiaras sitting on top of them. Sitting on my bed the fabric of my golden dress swayed when I walked up to her. “The one with three center jewels and the pearl necklace.”

“Of course, my lady.” She nodded where I lowered my head and she set the tiara in the center.

The tiara sparkled when the light bounced off the light coming through the window. I stood in front of the tall mirror eyeing my gown that was golden, short sleeves decorated in lace and was long where you couldn’t see the short brown boots I wore unless my dress flew up from the wind. “Sunset, do you think my mother shall begin pressuring me this year?”

“It is not my place to speak on.”

I reassured her otherwise. “Don’t worry about prying ears. I am asking for your opinion.”

“I would say she seeks what is best for you, Lady Y/n.” Sunset answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

Someone knocked on the outside of my door before another lady in waiting peaked her head inside. “Princess, your mother is coming this direction.” I nodded brushing my hands down the front of my dress.

The door of my bedroom opened for me to see my mother, Lady Danbury and Brimsley all walking up to my room. “I yearn for someone fresh, someone unexpected, to turn this season on its head. That is what we need. There is no room for indifference. Apathy is a blight the monarchy simply cannot endure.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. But remember, a young lady cannot be a diamond until you anoint her as such. So if for any reason you do not find one among the candidates todayâ€¦”

My mother cut off her friend. “Do you think she will return? We have heard nary a peep from Lady Whistledown since last season ended. Perhaps the writer came to her senses. Perhaps she realized taking on her queen was a bad idea, and she will never publish again.”

Lady Danbury responded. “It is a convincing theory, ma'am.”

“Or she simply left for the country, as the rest of us did in the off-season, bored by the lack of any real gossip.”

Lady Danbury made a noise. “Hmm. “

“You do know what that would make her, then?” My mother Queen Charlotte trailed off.

I finished her sentence being fair too noisy, needing to listen to the conversation of the famous gossiping writer. “One of us.”

“My darling daughter, you look radiant as ever.” My mother turned away from her friend to face me.

I sent her a smile waving to Lady Danbury to not be rude. “It’s good to see you, Lady Danbury.”

“Good to see you too, Princess Y/n.” She smiled.

My mother clasped her hands together in front of her puffy white dress. “I have been needing to speak with you and what this evening needs to entail for you and your happiness.”

“You wish for me to marry a prince and provide heirs for the crown.” I rolled my eyes already thinking of the answer she would say.

Yet to my surprise she said almost the opposite. “I wish for you to have happiness and many children. It would help if your husband was royalty, but it is not a requirement.”

“It isn’t?” Knitting my brows in confusion.

She takes my hands in hers. “I didn’t get the chance to search for love on my own. My brother arranged my marriage with your father. So I secretly hope that you, my firstborn daughter, can have some fun.”

“Mother, Iâ€¦that means so much to me.” I smiled through some happy tears.

Footsteps came down the long hallway and around the corner before we saw my father’s servant named Reynolds. “My Queen, my princess. I have news.” He bowed with a hand behind his back.

“What is it, Reynolds?” I asked him.

He shifted his gaze to mine. “You're father is having an episode, Princess.”

“Ohâ€¦” I made a noise in discomfort. I knew of his illness

That was the secret my mother and the rest of my siblings and I kept hidden from thr world. They needed to believe that the king was just always busy and so his wide made the appearances out on the town. “Hmm it appears we may have to cancel the ball tonight for the Bridgertons.” My mother sighed in defeat knowing her husband came first.

“We shall not cancel.” My mother and Reynolds’s both shifted their attention over to me when I had spoken up the opposite of what they assumed would need to be done. “We should not cancel because I can represent the family in your place, mother.”

She tapped her chin in thought. “I suppose that could solve our problem. I don't wish to cancel the months of preparation that were put into this.”

“Exactly that would be a tragedy.”

The queen turned to her husband's helper with instructions. “Inform my husband I will come to his aid. Brimsley?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

She gave him a different set of orders. “Inform the Viscount Bridgerton that my daughter shall be appearing tonight before myself.” He bowed and went in a different direction then Reynolds.

“Thank you, mother.” I smiled curtseying to her before we parted for the evening. It was quite a few hours before the ball with our castle subjects and the Bridgertons would even begin. By the evening the moon was shining up in the sky and the grand ballroom was lit up like a christmas tree.

Standing silently outside the currently shut double doors I stopped fiddling with my dress when one of the royal guards gave me a head nod saying it was time. I could hear the announcer's voice before the doors had even begun opening. “May I present to you her royal highness. The daughter of King George and Queen Charlotte, Princess Y.n of England.”

“Thank you, sir.” I whispered to another guard that came to me when I had made my entrance through the doors feeling all eyes on me. Sucking in a tiny breath he escorted me to the small throne before we unlinked arms leaving me on my own. The small crown on my head had never felt so heavy as it did right now. “Greetings my subjects. I am here to announce that my mother got called away tonight for an emergency. But she saw no reason why this event couldn’t go on as planned. So with that in mind let me extend a warm welcome to Violet Bridgerton and her family for traveling here for a few months.”

Everyone began clapping and cheering with an older looking woman who had dark brown hair up in a crown on her head that came up to me and gave a lovely curtsey. “Princess, it is a pleasure to get an invitation.”

“I hope I can get to meet your family greatly over your stay, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Princess Y/n, may I ask you something?” Someone called my name causing me to lift my gaze up noticing someone moving through the crowd. The figure paused beside the Bridgerton woman who seemed to give the man a confused but amused depression on her face.

I clicked my tongue and answered the stranger's question. “What is your question, my lord?”

“I was wondering if you would accept my offer for a dance together this evening.” The stranger seemed similar to the woman he was standing beside him. I was fairly certain they were related, but which son was he if they were.

He extended his hand up to me and I smiled, placing my smaller hand in his larger one. “I accept so long as I know which Bridgerton are you?”

“Benedict, Benedict Bridgerton.” He replied leading me out and onto the dance floor with the entire room having theur eyes focused on the two of us.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list - just ask to be added @abq654 @your-musicguru @imgondeletedis @eruannaaa-blog @cherrylovers-world @benedictbridgertonss @callmedarlingsstuff @carrotcaratsworld @sillynilly27 @emmampl-blog2 @bright-molina @erynel1zasworld @ynbutbetter @stranger-chan @blckbarbiedoll @sanaar3006 @ritz-hell-hotel

172 notes · View notes

pullhisteeth · 10 months

Text

wise words | eddie munson

summary Eddie f*cked up (royally) and has to work his ass off to get you back. based on a swift song obviously [4k]

contains 18+! fem!reader, a bit of fuckboy!eddie, angst, arguing, grovelling, hurt/comfort, crying, eventual fluff, suggestive themes/allusions to smut, Robin and Steve being disappointed but supportive pseudo-parents

He’s standing on your doorstep.

He’s standing on your doorstep and he’s shaking. Like a fucking leaf.

He looks down at the flowers wrapped in cellophane and thinks, are they good enough?

Am I good enough?

Will anything ever be good enough?

Thick drops of rainwater run down the plastic and coat the pink petals and he resolves that no, they’re not good enough.

He knocked twenty-three seconds ago. He knows this because he’s counting, keeping himself grounded.

Twenty-four Mississippi.

Twenty-five Mississippi.

Twenty-six Miss-

The door swings open quickly, almost impatiently, as though there wasn’t nearly half a minute between the knock and the response.

He looks up and when his eyes meet yours he knows for sure this time that this was a bad idea.

“Are you insane?” you ask him. Concern cuts through the irritation, leaving those creases by your eyebrows he’s so familiar with.

He doesn’t respond, his mind elsewhere. He’s desperately trying to pull it back but it’s running fast, back to yesterday evening.

“Eddie, seriously,” Robin says, impatient, “you have to do something. This is getting ridiculous, and besides, she’s crazy about you, even if you did royally fuck up, and- Hey!”

“What Rob means to say,” Steve interjects, giving her a swift and clean elbow to the ribs, “is that you’ve gotta grovel, man.”

“But it’s been so long,” Eddie whines, running his hands over his face, a pattern he has grown accustomed to over the past few months. A fed-up, miserable routine of lamenting his deepest regrets to his patient but equally-as-fed-up friends over beers on the nights you’re too busy to join them. “I can’t- I don’t know what I’d say.”

“Here,” Robin says, laying her palms flat on the table, fingers splayed. She pushes herself up, weight on her hands, and leans over Eddie. He stares up at her from behind his own fingers and winces quietly. “You love her, right?”

“Yes,” he responds, voice muffled under the heels of his hands.

“And she loves you-”

“Does she?”

“-and we know this because we’re her friends.”

Eddie’s eyes flit to Steve, whose face is drooping with sympathy. Anyone who has been on the receiving end of a Robin Buckley lecture knows the feeling, and he has had his fair share.

“So what you gotta do,” she continues, dipping her head to regain his attention, “is apologise.”

“I tried that-”

“Properly.”

At this he gives in, huffing a sigh and dropping his arms to fold in front of him, quickly enough to catch his head as it drops to the table like an anvil. He hears Robin return to her seat, and then feels gracious fingers on his elbow.

“Eds, man, it’s gonna be fine. You’ve just gotta fight for it.” It’s Steve, being soft as ever, so desperate to see his two friends happy that he’ll relinquish himself to his affectionate side.

“I want to,” he says, voice muffled again by the denim of his jacket sleeves. “But she deserves better than me.”

“Tell her that,” Robin suggests, voice far softer now. “Tell her you miss her, it’s been a long time, and that you were scared.”

She’s clever, Eddie thinks, pulling that gem out from the archives. On a particularly bad night, maybe two months after it had happened, he’d admitted to them the truth at the heart of all of this: he’s a scared boy, one who resolved while young that he would never fall in love, never let the walls down, for fear that he’d have to endure loss any more than was necessary. Your love had driven him mad and fear had driven him away, and now he avoids three diners and nearly all of the gas stations across Hawkins, schedules doctors appointments at the most inconvenient times and definitely never steps foot in the movie theatre downtown.

“She’ll come around,” Robin tells him kindly. When he lifts his head, eyes regretfully filling with that hopeful spark, she says, “She’s mad, don’t get me wrong. But she’ll come around. You just have some work to do.”

“And for what it’s worth,” Steve says in a cadence that worries Eddie enough to make him lift his head back up again, looking at Steve’s stern expression, “she does deserve better than you.”

“Stop, Steve, seriously-”

“She deserves better than you if you can’t find the fucking courage to go get her back.”

Now, standing on your front doorstep, looking at you for the first time in half a year, Eddie knows Steve was right. He doesn’t have the balls to do this; he’s too afraid of rejection, and more specifically rejection from you, and this was a bad idea. You deserve better.

He barely notices when you step one pace to the left, and when you speak your voice sounds like it’s coming from the other side of a thick wall.

“You’re gonna get hypothermia if you stay out there.”

He moves without thinking too hard, because you’re right - it’s cold as fuck out here and he’s grateful for the humming warmth he can feel coming from inside your home.

“Just stay there, I’m gonna get some towels.”

He feels pathetic, standing in your hallway, dripping wet like a fucking dog, gripping so hard onto the flowers that his knuckles are turning white. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, afraid of getting anything in your house wet, but acutely aware of how stupid he must look.

You come back around the corner with two big bath towels in your arms. They’re white and Eddie feels the burning shame of ruining them but says nothing, remaining tight-lipped and letting you clean up the floor. When your fingers curl around his tense ones he stares at you, at the strange, unreadable look on your face, and feels the jolt of a thousand volts carry down his fingers and into his shoulder. Where your fingers made contact you leave a sensation not unlike carpet burn.

“These are pretty,” you tell him, gently pulling the flowers from his grip. The cellophane crinkles and it slowly brings him back to this, to you, and he nearly chokes on air.

He says your name, a pathetic sound followed by even more pathetic noises, and when you smile, tight-lipped just like him and brows turned down, he cracks, voice failing him as he stumbles.

“Get your boots off and meet me in the kitchen,” you say, your face unreadable as ever as you turn on your heels and step back through the open door he knows well.

You leave him bewildered, like a soldier in the wake of a bomb, but he eventually comes to and does as you say. He debates leaving them outside, to cause you the least bother possible, but decides instead to leave them on one of the towels by the door.

His socks are soggy, slipping on the hardwood as he treads softly through your home. The reaction his gut is having to being here is ugly, so he breathes in slowly through his nose and wipes rainwater off his cheek with the back of his hand.

You’ve got your back to him, standing over the sink. At first he thinks you’re sorting the flowers, the way you always do - wrapping off, stalks trimmed, vase filled - but then he sees that, instead, you’re gripping the porcelain. White-knuckled.

For the first time he gets a look at you, or the back of you at least, because he’s pretty sure you haven’t heard him come around the corner. You’re much the same as before, except for the way you’ve cut your hair, and the fact that he remembers you in pretty sundresses and tennis shoes but it’s December, so you’re bundled in a jumper and sweats.

“I, uh-” He stammers, words catching on the edges of his teeth. He says your name again and watches you flinch. “It’s- It’s been so long, I-”

“Yeah,” you breathe, shoulders relaxing and grip loosening. You turn and lean back on the sink with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Just so you know,” he starts, and he can feel it, the fucking sarcastic tone that he can’t seem to shake. It comes out whenever he has to be genuine and it’s like someone else somewhere is pushing his buttons, controlling what comes out of his mouth. “-it’s been the, uh, the longest six months I think... ever.”

You look at him, more than familiar with this tone and this game.

“Yeah,” you say again.

“I don’t really know how to-”

“Eddie,” you bite, words like venom. “Can I ask you a question?”

As he nods his head, a little bemused, you gesture to the kitchen table. He catches on and sits at the chair closest to the door as you mirror him on the chair opposite.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

You rest your crossed arms on the table and lean on them, peering at him.

He breathes in slowly.

“To apologise.”

You scoff and he flinches, recoiling at the sound.

“And how’s this one gonna be different to the other hundred apologies?” You spit the word, as though it bears no meaning. At this point, and when it comes to Eddie, it almost doesn't.

That’s fair, he thinks.

“You are such a fucking jackass, Eddie Munson,” Robin barks, raising her arms in defeat. She’s pacing the aisles of Family Video while he sits on the counter and Steve loiters behind it, sorting tapes. “A jackass, seriously!”

“I get it, Rob, thanks,” he drones.

“No,” she snaps, feet finally finished being aimless and instead marching her over to him. She stands somewhere close to between his knees and if it weren’t Robin and she weren’t about to grill him for all he’s worth, it might be endearing.

She jabs her index finger into his chest, straight to the centre of his sternum.

“You’re a piece of shit. An asshole. A douchebag. And I’m allowed to call you all of these things because it’s me who gets the phone calls at two in the morning when she’s crying over you. Again.”

He drops his gaze, his hair covering her wrist and his face.

“Why’d you do it, dude?” Steve asks from behind him. “Like… I just don’t see the… Goal, or whatever.”

Eddie groans and tips his head back, staring uncomfortably at the ceiling tiles.

He wonders for a brief moment, before answering, why the two of them are still friends with him. Clearly his end goal is being as inaccessible as possible, keeping everyone at such a far distance at all times that he can never feel remorse, or that he’s letting anyone down. But now he’s here, with his friends, and he’s let them down and, worst of all, let you down, too. More than ever.

“I was trying to make it better,” he says, and the jab to the sternum comes harder this time, and is the full brunt of Robin’s fist rather than her finger.

“That is bullshit,” she says.

“I was!” he maintains, exasperated. “I just… I started trying to explain myself and I just couldn’t tell the truth.”

“So instead you told her you never want to see her again?!”

“I-”

“How does that help literally anything?!”

Robin’s right, of course. She’s always right; too smart for her own good, Eddie’s always thought. But he doesn’t have an answer for her.

“She’s better off that way anyway,” he says, sighing.

He blinks at you, studying your stern expression, before answering.

“I wanna be honest with you,” he begins, “like, actually this time. And I know it’s been ages and that I have been…”

“Awful,” you suggest.

“Yeah, awful-”

“An asshole. The worst. Evil. Cruel. Mean.”

“Right,” he says, nodding limply. “Yeah. That.”

You lean back, arms still crossed like armour.

“I want to get this right,” he admits, surprising himself, “and I’m trying to work out how.”

You also seem taken aback by this, brows raising just a bit, your eyes going wide. You don’t say anything, though.

“I want you to know how sorry I am,” he continues. He’s sitting rigid in his seat and can’t find something to occupy his fingers, so he begins twisting a ring around one of them. “But, like, I don’t know how to get that across… The flowers were, uh, step one, and this is step two… I, uh…”

He’s stumbling again, searching for the words in a sea of insecurity and unsteadiness. You wait, sitting still and breathing shallow.

“I think I- I was scared.”

“Of what?” you ask, taking him by surprise. He was expecting a vast silence that he would have to fill with pleas, excuses, sorries and truths. He thought you’d leave him to it and let him down slowly at the end.

“Uh, of you. Of us, I guess.”

“What?”

He leans forward finally, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know how to-”

“Try,” you say flatly.

He looks up at you, unsure.

“Try to explain it. You haven’t even tried.”

Deep, heavy breath in.

“Eddie, you can’t, I don’t-”

“Fucking stop it,” he bites, arrowhead words ripping you open.

“I don’t understand,” you try again, voice thick with tears and your throat closing in. In fact, everything is closing in.

He’s leaving.

“Exactly,” he spits, pulling his shirt on. “Just… I’m going.”

“But-”

He’s out of the door, jacket in arm, before you can protest any further. Your mind is racing, spinning out in search of something that you could have done to fix this, or else something you could have done to cause this.

But you’re coming up empty, because you’d spent the day the same as any other day this summer: in your bed, entwined, wayward fingers and lazy kisses. Sweet nothings splashed in whispers across bare skin, and-

Oh, you think. Oh.

“When you said you loved me,” he begins, wincing at his own honesty, “I just… I freaked, it was scary. I… Honestly, the main problem here is that I was fucking scared. I am scared. I don’t know how to… How to love, or whatever… How to do it right and not hurt you, or me, or both of us. I’m useless, it’s why I’ve never bothered before and I knew, even before we started hooking up, that-”

“Hooking up?”

He looks at you, pulling his eyes back from their wandering, to find you bitter and your face contorted in disgust.

“You call that hooking up?”

“I mean- I-”

“If you think we were hooking up, that’s bad enough, Eddie. Hook ups don’t last three months.”

“No,” he sighs. “They don’t. I think I’m… Trying to make myself feel better about it.”

“You don’t deserve that,” you tell him, and though it’s cutting and it should hurt, your voice is so kind so suddenly that he can’t help but lean into it, tugging gently on the hands of care it extends to him. “You left me, after months of stringing me along. I was basically your girlfriend, without the labels or whatever. There isn’t another word for what we were.”

“No,” he agrees, dwelling for a moment too long on those moments of domesticity, the quiet mornings drinking coffee on your front lawn, the afternoons spent hanging the laundry and throwing stray socks at one another. “And that was fucking scary. I was way too scared, when you said you loved me that morning, way too scared to admit what I really, really wanted.”

“Which was?” you ask, arms still firmly crossed.

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs. “You know what I-”

“Say it.”

“You-

“Say it.”

He breathes, defeated, and looks at you dead in the eye.

“I love you,” he tells you. “I loved you then, and I love you now, and I have no idea what to do about it.”

You deflate, your arms going lax, face surprised as though you didn’t expect him to actually do it, to rise to your challenge and be honest. For a flash, he feels smug, but then he remembers-

“I love you,” he repeats - the feeling of the words rolling off his tongue is unbearable, they’re too heavy, they won’t stop falling - “but you deserve better than me.”

You breathe sharply through your nose in frustration.

“Why are you here then?”

“What?”

“If I deserve better than you,” you repeat, finally releasing the tightness of your crossed arms and planting your palms on your knees, “why are you here? To torture me? Not satisfied with the last six fucking months, huh?”

“No, I-”

“Well, Eddie-” You spit his name like it’s gone bad and it twists something inside him. “-I’m fucking fed up of you and your… How mean you are. You’re always so mean to me and I hate that I cried over you for weeks-”

The door swings open and Robin rushes inside, expression tight with fear and worry.

She calls your name in a tone that drips affection as she rounds on you, where you’re standing with your weight on the wall and a hand over your face. By now it’s puffy and uncomfortable, your cheeks raw from wiping them with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

“What happened?” she asks, holding you like you’re about to break and moving you across your house to the couch. “Did you argue? Or-”

“He left, Robs. Just left.” You sigh and it heaves like you’re sat under a crate of bricks. Robin’s heart aches, nearly cracks in two at the sight of you and the fury she feels for her stupid, good-for-nothing metalhead friend.

“Oh, honey,” she coos, wrapping you up in strong arms. As she rocks you, you cry, and she kisses the crown of your head and tells you, without much belief in it herself, that it’ll be okay.

“Steve’s on his way,” she says after ten or fifteen minutes.

“It’s okay, I’m-”

“We’re gonna stay here,” she says quickly, “just for tonight.”

You look at her, eyes glassy, and as you speak your voice cracks. “I love him, Rob.”

She looks back at you sadly, fingers gripping your hands. “I know.”

You’re on your feet now, pacing back and forth and he’s watching, transfixed, as your shoulders move up and down, powered by rage, understandably.

“-I cried so much because I had spent weeks working up the courage to say that to you, to admit it to you and to myself because you’re so cold, Eddie. You’re so cold and distant and I still managed to fall in love with you.”

It’s at this point that Eddie’s drifting eye, which is following you back and forth, lands on the cluster of picture frames on your windowsill. He recognises most of them - photos of the group of you, up by the lake or in Chicago, some of your family and others at special occasions. But one of them calls to him loud enough to pull his eye from you completely.

It’s a silly frame he found at the thrift store. It’s hand-painted in gaudy colours, brush strokes in swirls and bursts of yellow and purple and green. And behind the glass is a picture Wayne had taken one day when you were at his trailer, watching movies on the couch.

It’s a polaroid, as most of your photos are, bright cracks of colour and light caused by the window right by his head - his head which is looking straight ahead, big wide grin and happy eyes, and you beside him, hands on one of his thighs, pushing yourself up to kiss his cheek.

It’s only when you stop pacing and, more noticeably, stop talking that he realises anything is wrong. His face is wet and there are new drops of water on the table - not the drying rainwater from his hair, but one or two drips from his jaw.

“Are you crying?” you ask, hands on your hips.

“Huh?” He asks, wiping his face with his wrist. “I, uh… Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just-”

His eyes flicker upwards and past you, to somewhere you follow with your own gaze. It lands on the photo and you start, cheeks flushing warm.

Suddenly, the anger lingering in the room, filling the air and his lungs and almost definitely yours, dissipates. It doesn’t disappear as such - you’re still seething, breathing loudly, but it’s like someone cracked a whip and the dust lifted.

He calls your name and you look at him, wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you earnestly. “I’m really, really sorry.”

You breathe out slowly and he watches your chest deflate as you take a step to sit back down. As you sit he rises, stepping over to you on unsure feet. He’s tentative, waiting - expecting - an adverse reaction.

You watch him as he gets closer and lowers himself to the ground.

“You are not about to-”

“I’m not getting on my knees, if that’s what you’re gonna say,” he says, and his tone is light - too light for his liking, but he catches the twitch in the corner of your mouth and something warm blooms in one of the chambers of his heart.

He squats beside you, resting his weight on one hand on the table. He keeps the other to himself, fingers spread over his bent knee.

“I’m an asshole. In fact, I’ve been all of those things you said, and I don’t think I’ll ever be sorry enough for you. But I… I’ve had all this time, and some… intense conversations with Rob and Steve, and I… I want to try to be sorry enough. Or to just make it up to you, somehow. Because I can’t… It’s too hard, doing all of this without you.”

He knows how this must look, him on the ground, soggy socks and soggier hair, staring at you like a lost puppy. But the way your eyes soften, and the familiar feeling of the brush of your fingertips over the damp skin of his bare wrist, is enough to make him go limp.

“What’d they say?” you ask him, watching your own fingers where they trace aimless strokes.

“Hm?”

“Rob and Steve. What’d they say?”

He laughs lightly, embarrassed.

“Uh, that I’m an asshole. In fact, Rob, she made sure to tell me that multiple times. Basically every time I saw her. And Steve, he… He’s such a good dude, you know? But I… I disappointed them, and myself, and you. I hurt you so bad and I don’t know where to put all this guilt I have.”

Neither of you are looking at one another, but you chuckle, thinking about Robin. Her loyalty makes your head spin. And Steve, with his heart of gold, who held you all those times you cried and fought silently between his anger at Eddie and his love for you.

“I love them,” you whisper, your fingers halting. The pad of your thumb hovers over the protruding joint, stroking it softly until you feel the thrum of his pulse under your own. Your fingers wrap the opposite way, until you’re holding his arm like a bracelet.

You squeeze and he sucks a quick breath in.

“You really hurt me, Eddie,” you tell him, lifting his arm off the table. He wobbles and uses his free hand to steady himself on your chair, the knuckle of his thumb meeting the side of your thigh for just a second. You manoeuvre his hand into your lap, where you lay it flat. You both stare at it and all he can hear is your breathing and the rush of blood past his ears.

“I know I did,” he says. “I can go, if you want.”

You hum and begin tracing the lines on his palm. “It’s gonna take a while,” you say.

“What is?”

“Making it up to me.”

His eyes move without permission to your face, where he finds a barely-there smile and the beginnings of the crows feet by your eyes.

“Forever,” he says, knowing you’re right - it’ll take a long, long time.

“Forever.”

“I must’ve been crazy,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Hm?”

Your fingers are still now, resting on his, and he finally moves his own. His knees are burning from squatting and the balls of his feet are digging into something sharp under the linoleum, but he’s not thinking too hard about any of it. He takes your hands in his and holds them, backs of your palms to the front of his. He dips his head and kisses your left wrist and then your right, lingering to feel the thump of your heart.

“I am crazy,” he says. “I let you go.”

“You left me,” you correct him. “I never wanted to go.”

He looks up at you and pales when he sees the tears. Your eyes are wet and red round the edges and he thinks to himself that you’ve been doing this, crying over him, for six months. And it’s his fault.

The two of you move quickly and without thought. His knees buckle, giving into the strain he’s been putting on them for so long, and as he hits the floor he tightens his grip on you without meaning to. You’re pulled off your chair with a yelp and a clatter, landing in his lap with your knee dangerously close to his crotch.

Hands paw and wipe tears and you lift your leg to plant it beside him. As you stabilise yourself his arms come around you, too quickly at first; so quick he worries you’ll push him off, tell him to go fuck himself. They’re met by yours, though, coming around his back.

“I’m sorry,” he says into your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

You say nothing, and instead push your face further into his shoulder.

He feels and hears you sniffling, so he pulls you back gently. Some of his hair sticks to your face and you wipe your nose unceremoniously with the back of your hand, scoffing at him when you see he’s smiling at you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you tell him, looking away.

“Like what?”

“Like… That.”

“I don’t-”

“You have that look,” you say, groaning. And then you reach up to hold his face, and he caves, bowing into you in every way he can. “You’re so fucking pretty and it’s the worst.”

“You’re one to talk,” he tells you, enjoying the way you flush.

“Always the charmer.”

“It’s true,” he says. “Never seen anyone as pretty as you.”

He leans into your palm and twists just so, lips brushing the heel of it in a quick kiss.

“Flattery won’t get you out of this,” you tell him, your smile deceiving you only slightly.

“I know,” he says. “But it might help me.”

You’ve been inching closer to his face, and now you’re all he sees. You’ve taken up his field of vision, your breath brushing past the end of his nose.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“Wow,” you laugh, “Steve taught you how to be a gentleman since I last saw you or somethin’?”

“Stop- You’re ruining this.”

“Sorry,” you say, still laughing. “You were just never the kind to be so… chivalrous.”

“I’m hardly being chivalrous,” he says, matching your smile. “But now you mention it, yeah, actually.”

You lean back only slightly but it’s enough to make him deflate, unhappy at the new distance.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean… I was an asshole, as we’ve established. Needed to learn my manners again.”

“What did he say?”

“Can we please talk about this later? I just wanna-”

“No,” you say, grinning now. “I want to know.”

He groans, the hand he has spread across your back to hold you up tensing.

“I dunno, he just… He really did a number on me, y’know, telling me how I did everythin’ wrong and that I…”

He’s gone coy and you’re relishing in it.

“You what?”

“I… Steve called me a fuckboy.”

You bark out a laugh so loud Eddie flinches, but then he watches as you carry on laughing, nearly bent double, eyes all crinkled just the way he likes, the way he’s missed terribly.

“What’s so funny?!”

“It’s true,” you say. “It’s so true! Robin, Steve, I mean, we love you, obviously, you’re our friend, but like… They did say when you and me started, y’know… That I was in for it, that you’d break my heart, and I told them they were crazy ‘cause it was just sex, right? But then I realised maybe it wasn’t just sex, when you basically started living here, and we were more like… I dunno, like a couple… But they were right!”

He looks at you, aghast.

“They told you all of that?”

“Yeah! I mean, they were right, huh?”

“Yeah, I just… I didn’t know it was that bad, that they’d be able to notice that kinda thing.”

“You know,” you say, fingers tapping patterns up his chest. “Steve told me somethin’ else, a few months back.”

“Oh, god,” he groans, mind reeling through the thousands of things this could be.

“It’s not bad,” you say. “Well, it’s not one of the bad things. There were still bad things.”

“Right.”

“He said… He said he’s known you for, what, like three years now? And in all that time, before you and me met, you’d always have different girls, were known as a bit of a player at school…”

“Christ, okay.”

“But after you left me, Steve said he’d never seen you be so… Alone.”

Eddie looks at you in shock, so frightened by what else Steve may have said, but also by how you’re relaying this to him. Calm, stoic, unfeeling.

“I mean… I haven’t, y’know, slept with anyone else, if that’s what you-”

“I know,” you say. “I just… It makes it feel more real, you know?”

“I know I’m gonna be spending the rest of my life making sure you know I’m sorry,” he says, breathing out through his nose slowly, “but I mean it. I’ll do it. For the rest of my life. There isn’t anyone else. I’ll forego women, relationships, whatever… ‘Cause I won’t have time. Will be too busy makin’ it up to you.”

He noses at your neck, trying with everything he has to hold himself back from kissing you. The air around the two of you feels thick with laboured breaths and unsaid things - so many unsaid things, things he’ll tell you one day and other things he’s sure he’ll hear from you.

“So can I?” he murmurs into the warm skin above your collarbone, lips only a hair from making contact.

He feels your fingers come around the back of his neck, taking root at the nape where his hair starts. They curl around it, tugging him up, and then you do the dance - the one that always happened between the two of you in these moments. You dip in, so close, and back out, ebbing like a riverbank. It drives him crazy and he knows that you know it, so he smiles, and it’s only then that you finally kiss him.

As you move against him, lips and hands and chest and thighs, he lets his eyes close and his tongue move with yours, and thinks that this - kissing you - is much better when he’s being honest.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie x reader #stranger things eddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie fic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie #eddie fanfic #stranger things season 4 #st4 #robin buckley #steve harrington

403 notes · View notes

randonwilmonfan · 9 months

Text

I'd love to talk more about the locker room scene in S2 E2 of Young Royals, where Wilhelm tries to convince Simon to get back together with him, in the process (sadly) demonstrating that he believes his mother's feeble offer to "talk" about him possibly coming out when he's 18. This takes place after his almost-removal from Hillerska.

Plenty of people have already pointed out how Henry snitched on Wille and Felice’s kiss, but apparently didn’t choose to tell anyone (as far as we’re aware) about Wilhelm almost pleading with Simon to get back together with him during that post-almost-dragged-out-of-Hillerska conversation. And that's definitely an interesting thing to chew on. But there's more...

Here are a few other things that stand out to me too:

First -

I think it’s worth pointing out the obvious — Wilhelm clearly sees Simon in his future long-term (possibly for the rest of his life). The way he casually says to Simon “So, we’d only have to keep it a secret for 2 years” implies three things very clearly.

a) He immediately and easily sees himself together with Simon in 2 years and beyond. Actually, specifically, definitely beyond. Because his eye is on the prize: coming out and living openly with Simon *after* he turns 18 — implying his focus is entirely on the intended afterwards period. He doesn’t even blink at that idea; it’s obvious to him.

b) He also really doesn’t seem to think 2 years is a big deal. For a teenager who’s only lived 16 years on this planet (only approximately ~11-ish of them in a state where they’re forming conscious memories) to think 2 years is just a drop in the bucket is kind of wild. Even 6 months feels like forever to a kid. So Wilhelm — a child — viewing time from this perspective suggests he’s likely balancing 2 years out against a much longer expanse of time; hence why those 24 months would look so minuscule and shrug-worthy by comparison. In other words: he sees himself with Simon in the LONG long term. Two years is nothing if you’re imagining growing old with someone and spending the rest of your many decades on this Earth with them. (All of this is pretty much confirmed later on in S2, when Wilhelm offers to abdicate the throne for Simon.)

c) He also doesn’t seem to think Simon should be appalled by the idea of waiting for 2 years. Yes, sure, we can chalk part of that up to selfishness and lack of mentalization / empathy for Simon’s point of view. But I’m going to suggest it’s more than that. My takeaway is that he assumes Simon also sees them as endgame, and so naturally wouldn’t be bothered by waiting a bit longer in order to spend forever together. (Sadly the conversation does not play out that way for him; ouch. Though no shade to Simon: what he said in response was realistic and fair.)

Second -

I think we have to rewatch his interactions with Simon as Henry slams a door and slowly walks past them with a raised eyebrow. Because, in S1, that Wilhelm would have immediately jumped away from Simon to create distance and try to pretend there’s plausible deniability about what their relationship has been and could be again. That’s (one) part of the whole point of S1: Wilhelm is not ready to be brave enough to face a homophobic aristocratic world and take a bold stance to stand by Simon.

Instead, in S2 E2, he sits still. He stays right next to Simon. In fact, he *leaves his hand resting directly on Simon’s thigh.* And he knows someone is coming their way! He heard the door slam inside the locker room. Obviously he knows someone else is here. But he doesn’t jump. He actually doesn’t really stir much at all.

He sits there like it’s of no importance, and he doesn’t care who sees. Or, even, who overheard this very intimate, vulnerable, and pleading conversation. A conversation in which the future King of their country is almost on the verge of begging his ex to please be his again… not just for now, but for multiple years’ time. I mean we’re like 2 steps away from Wille practically offering Simon a “promise ring” (not sure if that concept holds up in Europe, but it’s basically a very pre-engagement type thing in the US; it’s not common though). (Their convo also makes it very clear Simon was the one who dumped him and that he’s having trouble accepting that and moving on.)

Yet he doesn’t seem perturbed or disturbed by Henry’s presence and overhearing and seeing them. He doesn’t seem embarrassed at all. He’s not ashamed of his love for Simon. Even more specifically, he’s not afraid of people (Henry) seeing him put his heart out on the line, and of them knowing that he wants Simon back - not for just a hook-up, but for a very long-term, serious, committed relationship. And he doesn’t make any moves to emotionally or physically distance himself from Simon, despite Henry’s clear witnessing of this private moment.

This is a subtle way to show that, even though Wille hasn't yet gone through his full S2 journey of self-awareness and self-growth, he has still already begun changing and growing after the end of S1. So he’s at least started to learn some of his lessons about what he needs to do differently.

Anyhoo, the whole point I’m trying to make is… gosh there were so many fascinating things happening in that scene. And they rush right past us in the blink of an eye! But there is so much meaning built into every small interaction and non-interaction there, and into every nonchalant assumption the characters casually voice.

I’m sure there’s more meaning and are more details I missed, too! What did you think? I’d love to learn more from others’ perspectives, too. :)

#young royals #young royals season 2 #yr analysis #young royals analysis #locker room scene #but not the one where they're truly overtly fighting yet #this is the “how can you not care?” scene

343 notes · View notes

greeenchrysanthemums · 3 months

Text

Thus Always to Tyrants

Chapter 1: The Start of the Fall

Gem is the commander of the Wintertide royal army, Grian is the leader of a resistance hell bent on taking the crown down no matter the cost. It was only natural that they would become enemies.

Chapter 1 (you are here) -> Chapter 2

Read on ao3 ❀ here ❀

CW: past/mentioned war, non-graphic violence.

Words: 6,493

Pov: Gem

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

The tip of Gem’s sword punctured the dummy’s chest, right through the center of the worn out fabric X sewn into its burlap surface. She planted her foot right under where the blade was buried and kicked it away with enough force to send it crashing to the ground, freeing her sword in the process. The dummy rolled away from her, it’s sewn on face frowning up at her sadly in an almost comedic way as it went. She panted and stood up straight, rolling her shoulders to release some of the tension they had collected in the muscles.

Her ears were met with a round of clapping, and she turned to smile at the group of young knights and squires who had gathered at the edge of the training grounds to observe her sword play. She gave an elegant, somewhat exaggerated, bow before turning to look up at the sky. She shielded her eyes from the shining rays as she checked the sun’s position. It was just about noon by this point, if not nearing it. She should be on her way, lest she be late.

“That will be all from me, I’m afraid. I’m in danger of receiving a verbal lashing from sir Impulse.” She joked to the trainees with an apologetic smile.

“Do you really have to go?” One of the younger squires asked with big, pleading eyes. The others echoed the sentiment, all trying to convince her to stay and show them more.

“Unfortunately, yes, I do,” She said, “It’s a very important day today, as you all know, and my presence cannot be missed. Why don’t you lot work on what I just showed you until you are called to join us, and then you can show me your improvement another day. How does that sound?” There was a chorus of disappointed vocalisations, but they got back to their own work pretty quickly after a stern look was thrown their way.

She walked over to the fallen dummy and took a moment to stand it upright so that it was ready for the next person to use. She jogged over to where she had abandoned her water skin at the edge of the training ring, expertly tossing the practice sword she had borrowed into the designated barrel behind the dummies as she went. She took a few greedy gulps of sweet, crisp water before wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on her brow with the hem of her sleeve. Her clothes were damp with sweat and sticking to her skin, but where she was heading would be just as hot, if not more, so she was not worried about it.

She really should not have let herself be roped into showing off to the younger knights and squires, but how could she not? She simply could not resist their charms; she had no choice but to say yes when they came to her on her way out to beg that she show them a few basic forms. They reminded her far too much of her younger self, she supposed. Bright eyed, full of admiration, and ready and eager to learn. There had been someone once in her life that was willing to give in to her pleas and show her everything they knew, she only thought it fair that she be the same kind of role model in these kids' lives. She would just die if she didn’t live up to their expectations. If that meant she ended up a little late every now and then? So be it.

She hooked the skin to her belt and bid the young ones an enthusiastic farewell, which they returned with varying degrees of equal cheerfulness and disappointment, and with that, she was off. She darted through the servant's entrance and into the kitchen, where she quickly snagged a bread roll out of a basket on one of the counters, giggling at the indigent shout of “Commander!” from one of the cooks as she did so. She waved goodbye to them, and they rolled their eyes at her, crossing their arms as she rounded the corner into the hall.

She made her way through the corridors with the bread roll secured safely in her bite, the loud clanking of her armor bouncing off of the high walls. As she ran, she took the opportunity to fix her bun, which had gotten rather messy during her little showing off session. She tucked loose strands back where they belonged and tightened the binding holding the bun and the braid together. It probably still looked a right mess, but at least it was a little more presentable. With her hair out of her face, she took a large bite out of the roll, groaning at the sweet, buttery taste of it.

She haphazardly shoved the rest of the roll into her mouth and chewed as fast as she could without choking. She licked the flakey crumbs from her fingers and wiped the rest of the mess off on the skirt of her dress. Not the most polite or proper, and her mama would definitely scold her for doing it, but she had not the time to worry about manners. She was going to be late; later than she probably already was.

She waved to the on duty guard at the main door and he yelled for her to have a good time just as she exited earshot. She lifted up the hem of her dress as she ran down the front steps, trying to avoid tripping over the expanse of fabric. She stumbled a little on the final step, pinwheeling her arms in order to steady herself before carrying on her way.

She squinted against the sun in her eyes and slowed her pace to a light jog, a smile coming onto her face as she caught sight of her friends and the small group of guards waiting at the front gate for her. Impulse and Scott looked up as she skidded to a stop in front of them. She put her hands on her hips and bent slightly at the waist as she tried to catch her breath.

“Worry not, I am here!” She proudly declared as she straightened her stance.

“Here, and late.” Scott said from where he was leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and one foot propped against the stone. His long hair was pulled over his shoulder into a braid, a stray stand of the blue locks falling into his amused face. Impulse beside him stood more casually with his thumbs tucked into the belt around his waist. The eldest man stifled a laugh at her expense.

“I will have you know that I am barely late. It is hardly even noon yet!” Gem defended with her hands still on her hips, turning her nose up at him in a playful manner.

“Late is late, Commander,” Scott laughed, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with delight at her defensiveness. Gem opened her mouth to continue the friendly argument, but was halted by Impulse’s hand’s clamping down on either of their shoulders.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you two. Let's be on our way before our absence is missed.” Impulse said. Despite being lower in rank than her, Impulse was the oldest out of them, and one of her best friends, so Gem took no offense when he gave her a light shove in the direction of the town.

Gem took the lead as they exited the front gates, bidding the guards up at the top of the tall wall a goodbye as she went. Truth be told, it really was not too much of an issue that they were heading out a little later than what they expected. She had long ago coordinated and dispatched another unit to go ahead of them early this morning. Not only that, but her presence was not something that was strictly required, it was a personal choice. Technically there was no way for them to be late to this event. Scott simply enjoyed pulling her leg, and she, his.

The journey to town didn’t take them very long - a journey that they could have made shorter had the capital not been too crowded to bring horses on a day like this - and in the blink of an eye they were entering the crowded city.

Stands and carts littered the usually empty streets, filled to the brim with rare goods and flooded by customers eager to get their hands on whatever was being offered. The decadent smell of cooking meats and spices filled her nose and caused her mouth to water, the faint hint of baked goods and perfumes lingering just under the surface. Lively music filled the air, as did laughter and conversation. Over the heads of many a passersby she could see a stage set up in the center of the city square, where a band was playing the jolly tune that could be heard.

If one was to look even further, they would also catch sight of even more booths and carts, designated entirely to games and things of the like. There were even places set up for the trading of livestock and furniture. Buildings were lined with decorations that were vibrant in colour.

The event wasn’t to officially begin for another quarter of an hour, but it appeared things were already in full swing.

The Festival of Good Tides; a yearly occurrence in Wintertide that was first established several years back after a truce had been called to end a three-year war between the kingdom and its neighbouring lands, Coral Crest. What was originally created as a way of boosting post war morale had become somewhat of a national holiday that the people looked forward to with great anticipation. Its popularity was also helped by the fact that the many activities and wares sold brought a large increase of income to the kingdom, something that many now relied on for the coming winter season, where food and warmth was a bit hard to come by without a bit of extra coin.

Though the festivities only lasted one day, the most was always made of it. Events and trading started at noon and extended into the evening until the sun had set and the stars had risen, from which point the king would make his appearance, give a speech and his blessing for the coming winter, and then the feast would begin. This grand dinner would go throughout the night and into the early morning, with more than enough food and alcohol to satisfy the masses provided by the castle.

Though it had only been a few years since the tradition had begun, its rise in popularity had been swift and widespread. People would come from all over the land just to partake in the joyous occasion, and get a piece of the financial opportunities that it offered.

During this time, Inns would become so crowded that people even took the opportunity to rent out rooms in their own homes to travelers. It was even common for those intending to sell to camp out with their traveling carts and stalls in the surrounding woods during the week leading up to the festival, so common that there were designated areas marked and prepped for them nearly a month in advance.

Gem never really got to enjoy the festival as the celebration that it was, preferring to act more as security so as to ensure that things didn’t get too out of hand, but it was still something that she looked forward to every year. It was one of many highlights that came from living in the capital. It reminded her of who she was here for, who she spent every day of her life training and fighting to protect.

It wasn’t too long ago that this land would have been rife with paranoia and poverty, the war having taken its toll on the people and the land itself. Gem basked in every second of the happiness that she could, while also remaining vigilant that nothing disturbed it. She would do anything to ensure that this time of peace lasted.

“I’m going to split off here,” Scott said, interrupting her thoughts. He jabbed his thumb over to the left of the path they were walking to indicate where he was going, “I think Jimmy’s stall is somewhere over there. I’m going to go see if I can haggle him out of some of the high-quality leather he sells before it is all snatched up. Assuming it hasn’t been already”

“Alright, we will see you at the feast.” Impulse said, giving him a rough pat on the shoulder as a farewell.

“Don’t forget to actually do your job while you’re at it.” Gem teased, punching him in the shoulder. She then motioned for two of the other knights to break off from the group to accompany Scott, and motioned for two others to go in the opposite direction, where she knew more knights were already patrolling. She didn’t want them too split up lest something happen and they need numbers, but it is never a bad idea to have eyes in more places.

“You know me, I’ve always got an eye out,” Scott replied.

“Give Jimmy and Tango my greetings” Gem cheerfully told him as he began to walk away, only to be met with a grimace thrown over his shoulder at her. She laughed at the expression. She knew that Scott’s relationship with his friend's partner was strained and awkward at best, and it was too much fun to tease him about it.

“I think I’m going to head over to my parents' cart. Would you like to come with me?” Impulse asked, looking around the crowded area to try and spot them over the masses.

“I think I am going to hang around the stage. A vast majority of fights always seem to break out in or around this area, so it is best I stay here for now.” Gem said, crossing her arms and scanning the crowd for anything, or anyone, that might be out of place.

“I know we’re here to keep an eye on things, but do try to have a little bit of fun, alright? This is, after all, a celebration!” Impulse insisted, gesturing towards the festivities with a broad sweep of his arms.

“I will do as I please. Give your mothers' my greetings, yes?” Gem asked, shooing him away and sending an extra knight after him with a gesture of her hand.

“Will do!” He gave her a two fingered salute before jogging away.

Gem would not lie and say she had not been tempted to go see Impulse’s parents with him. They were lovely people who adored her and always “snuck” handfuls of candy into the pockets of her dress when she wasn’t looking, but she had meant it when she said the city square and the stage were where 90% of the festival's problems broke out before the feast began, second only to the alcohol booths. Regardless of how rare issues actually were, though, she really would prefer to stay close so she can break up any altercations before they had a chance to escalate

She did, however, make a pit stop over to one of the meat carts to buy her and the remaining knights with her a rabbit and potato skew from one of the stands a little ways away from the center of the festival. It was a divine bit of food, and she would be a fool to not get some before it was all sold out. The bread roll she had snagged from the kitchen had done little to satiate her hunger and it would be foolish to work on an empty stomach, she reasoned as she thumbed coins over to the vendor and was handed a couple of skewers in return for her payment.

She distributed them among her remaining knights and then took a big bite out of the hearty meat as she led the way back towards the stage, just in time to catch the start of the next performance.

A stout young woman in a short sleeved, rose pink dress made her way up onto the stage with a bright smile on her face. A man followed behind her with a staff in his hand, and Gem grew giddy with excitement as she realized where this performance may be going. The man went down onto one knee and offered the woman the staff , which she accepted with a deep bow before he rushed off the stage.

She raised the staff, made of wood old and brittle with a glittering jewel entrapped in its spiraled tip, up towards the sky, and the crowd waited with bated breath. She whispered something under her breath, so quiet that it was sure not a soul in the crowd had heard her, but Gem watched her lips form the words, and she knew what was coming next.

For a moment nothing happened, and then light burst forth from the tip of the staff up into the sky in a coil of glittering gold. The strings of light rippled through the air before coming together to form the image of a bird big and grand, which spread its magneficent wings and flew over the crowd with a brilliant wooshing sound. The crowd screamed with delight and laughter as the bird let out a tremendous caw. It rose high into the sky before turning abruptly and diving straight for the stage floor. It exploded as it made contact with the ground, sending glittering shimmers of light, almost like millions of miniature stars, all across the wooden planks.

The crowd erupted into raucous cheers, which Gem joined in on, holding the now bare wooden skew in between her teeth in order to do so. The woman, her smiling face now red and shiny with sweat, bowed once more, holding her staff out to the side of her and placing a hand over her heart as she did so. She took a moment to wave to the crowd before rushing off stage to make way for the next performer.

What a brilliant performance, Gem thought. Magic in this day and age was a rare sight to see, so even simple spells like that were enough to leave most in awe.

Gem couldn’t even imagine what it had been like back in the day, when magic was rampant and widespread across the lands, when things like this were commonplace and about as impressive as someone tying their boots. Gem was well versed in what little there was to be known about magic, and it wasn’t a lot. There were very little records of that time long past, only a few books here, the odd fairytale there. There was barely even enough to tell the people of today that there was once a period of time where magic ruled the lands, and no one exactly knows what happened to it.

Now there were barely any folks left with any sort of magical inclination about them at all, and those who did had so little of it that they were barely able to do simple illusion spells like the one Gem just saw without being left utterly exhausted by their efforts.

She watched several more performances after this, ranging from a man who juggled an armful of colourful balls, a woman who balanced herself on the tip of a tall, slim poll, a woman who sang a beautiful song accompanied by her husband’s lute, a man who did a magic trick involving balls of fire, and many more.

Hours had passed and the next performer was just about to come up onto the stage when Gem caught something out of the corner of her eye. A swish of red fabric that was all too familiar to her; one of the reasons she always preferred to stay on her toes.

She inhaled sharply through her nose, sparks of anger already kindling in her chest as she whipped around to ensure it was who she thought it was, and without a doubt, it was him. There he was, standing there so close to the stage it would be no problem at all for him to climb upon it should he so wish to. He was eyeing the performer with an almost bored expression. Even with what little anonymity that stupid hood of his offered him, she would recognize him anywhere.

She marched towards the person, her hand moving towards her sword despite knowing she could not, and would not, use it in such a crowded space. Not when so many innocent lives were at risk of getting caught in the crossfire.

His head turned in her direction, his inky black eyes lighting up with amusement as he spotted her, a smirk spread across his bird-like face. He turned away and took off into the crowd, and Gem gave chase without a second thought.

He weaved through the crowd faster and faster, seamlessly avoiding bumping into people as he moved in a way not too dissimilar to a snake in the grass. She shouldered past people, yelling quick apologies to those who shouted in protest as she tried to keep up with the smaller man, his distinctive red cloak being the only thing that allowed her to keep sight of him through the tightly packed crowd.

He led her all the way towards the bustling merchant’s area. This part of the festival was full of richly coloured fabrics that were folded neatly along the surface of the carts that sold them, and there was a large variety of rare clothing article, which hung from racks in tidy rows on either side of her, easy to knock down and cause a fuss should she not move carefully. The air was thick with perfumes and the smell of dye, the scent thick and almost overpowering to her hard-working lungs as she ran through the area with delicate movements. He threw her a devious smile over his shoulder as he ducked under a rack of brightly coloured scarves, which she darted around, knowing she would not make it under.

She wasn’t a fool, she knew this was a game to him, and she wasn’t going to let him keep playing it.

The crowd was beginning to thin the further they got away from bustling city square, giving her the opportunity to increase her speed at last. Her armor rattled as she pushed herself to catch up to the nimble man, her blood rushing through her ears and her heart racing loudly. He attempted to duck into an alleyway, but she followed after before he could escape, turning sharply on her heels. She grabbed the back of his cloak, pulling him backwards and his hood down.

She ducked as a set of razor sharp talons ripped towards her face, messy pieces of her hair whipping past her field of vision as she grabbed the man’s wrist, bringing her palm up swiftly into his gut. He gasped as the air was knocked out of his small body. She took the opportunity to swing around into a kick, and her boot would have connected with his neck had he not raised his arms into a protective position in order to block the blow in the last moment. It was still enough to send him to the ground, however, and he hit the cobble with a bounce that sent him rolling.

He used the momentum to flip himself up into a crouching position, blood running down his chin from where he had presumably bit his tongue. His expression was still somewhat playful, but now had a much more serious glint to it. He kept his talons at the ready to counter Gem’s next attack, his body tense with anticipation. His sharp eyes were taunting her, waiting for her to make the next move as he always did.

“Grian.” She said, her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it at any moment.

“Commander” He said in turn, tilting his head unnaturally to the side, much like the owl he shared his attributes with.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, looking down her nose at him, her thumb inching her sword out of the sheath.

“Is it a crime to enjoy a national holiday like every other citizen in the kingdom?” He questioned in an almost teasing manner.

“Enough of your games! It is no mere coincidence that you would show up today of all days after months of silence.” Gem snapped, her shoulders rising in turn with the bubbling anger in her heart.

Grian, a slippery, troublemaking avian that she had been butting heads with on a near regular basis ever since she was a bright eyed squire fresh off of the snowy mountain she called home, eager to prove herself in her search for glory.

He had made his entrance into her life in a flashy and grand fashion that was bound to leave an impression on just about anyone; an explosion in the castle's courtyard. It had been small, only enough to take out a tiny portion of the wall. It had been so clearly a distraction, but after years of war, it had been enough to cause a panic that only Gem had been levelheaded enough to power her way through. It was her quick wit that allowed her to act swiftly in the face of potential danger, and her friendly and outgoing personality that let her realize she’d never seen his face around the castle before and clock that he was an intruder. She’d taken him down before he was able to do whatever it was that he was planning to do inside of the castle, but he’d still managed to escape in the end.

Along with an increase in security and guards stationed on the outer walls, the royal army gained another knight that day. Ironic that it would be the man who would come to torment her any chance he could in the near future that would see to it that she was promoted early in her career.

They met many times after that first initial encounter, and with each one it only became obvious that his goal from the very beginning was to tear down the Wintertide royal bloodline at any cost and destroy the peace she tried so hard to protect.

He sought to create chaos and disorder within the kingdom, and he would stop at nothing to see these goals met. It was only natural that they would become rivals, enemies that would be at constant odds with each other until the end of all things. Time and time again he would make his move against the royal family, and she was always there to put an end to it. It was an endless dance that they seemed to be trapped in indefinitely, for better or for worse.

As the years passed, he shifted his focus from the castle and the king to something else, something more attainable. He would commonly be found in the streets, yelling about injustices to anyone who would give him an ear.

At first, no one would pay him any mind, and he would always make a break for it the second Gem showed up to put a stop to his public disturbances. Over time, however, as taxes were raised to cover the costs of damages done to the land and economy by the war, and tensions between their neighbouring kingdom rose yet again, his ideals slowly but surely gained more and more popularity. People were moved by his cause, rallied by a hatred for a monarchy they felt provided them very little protection or surety in their time of unrest.

Suddenly he wasn’t a single person acting alone anymore; he was the leader of a group they had no way of knowing the scope of.

They had tried to take him and his mysterious resistance down for years now, but by some feat of the gods they had managed to avoid detection, as well as capture, the entire time. Even now, it is unknown just how large his resistance is, or the names of those who operate within it, making it difficult to do anything in opposition to the group. They had only a few names for certain they could connect to him, but they have all been as untraceable as he. Every tip and clue that came Gem's way only led to empty houses and cellars with nothing but clearly fake plans and documents within them that led her and her men right back to where they had started; with nothing at all.

All of this to say that he and his group are dangerous, effective people who should not be taken lightly, and his presence at The Festival of Good Tides bore nothing but ill tidings.

The avian sighed in an overly dramatic, fake manner, no doubt playing it up to get a rise out of her. She was ashamed to admit that it worked.

“Fine, I suppose there is no point in hiding it from you,” He said, his face once again breaking into a wide smile, “I was looking for you, actually. I knew if I showed up to the festival you would find me within seconds and pursue me until you had me in your grasp.”

“And, why, in god's name, were you seeking to put yourself right into my hands? A bit of a foolish thing to do, if you ask me. You know as well as I do that you are no match for me, birdy.” She taunted.

She swiftly pulled her sword from its sheath and put the tip of the blade to his unprotected neck. It was just long enough for her to close the distance between them without having to take so much as a step closer. His expression remained unbothered and playful, despite the obvious threats to his life.

“I wanted to give you a fair warning,” He replied cryptically.

“What in the hells does that mean?” She questioned, hackles once again rising.

“Something big is coming, Gem.” He answered. His eyes were wide and excited, almost manic even, as he said this. She had never seen him like this before in all her years knowing him.

“Something big? What in the blazes are you on about?” She asked, unease settling in her stomach like a heavy stone at the words

“You would do well to prepare yourself while you still can.” He said instead of giving her a real answer, “For all of our back and forth, I do not hate you. It would sure be a shame if something were to happen to you that could have been avoided.”

“Your mad rambles make little sense. Explain yourself before I have your head!” She threatened, pushing the tip of the sword against his throat further.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anymore than I already have, but you’ll find out in due time, believe in that. The end might be closer than you think.” He said, and her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open.

He took advantage of her brief shock to sweep his leg out faster than she could react. The hard, scaly part of his taloned foot grabbed a hold of her sword’s blade and wrenched the weapon out of her hands, sending it to the ground with a metallic clatter. She shouted in alarm and leaped towards the fallen sword in an attempt to regain control of the situation, but before she could even get close, Grian pulled a bottle out from somewhere within his cloak and smashed it against the ground at her feet.

There was a flash and a popping noise following the shattering of the glass, and thick smoke billowed out around them, obscuring her vision and filling her nose with the overbearing smell of sulfur. Her eyes burned, watering fiercely as she coughed, trying to clear her lungs of the smoke.

She waved the air in front of her, looking around frantically for the avian but seeing not a single sign of him. There wasn’t so much as a feather on the ground, nor where there any footprints in the grime showing where he’d taken off to. All there was in the now vacant cobble alley was her sword, flat against the ground where it had fallen.

“Gem!” She heard someone call out to her from behind.

She turned to find Impulse rushing towards her. He looked frantic, out of breath. A few other soldiers trailed behind him, visibly on edge as they looked around the smokey alley. Her old friend hurried to her side, grabbing her face and brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes as he turned her side to side to check for injuries.

She pulled away from him, wordlessly moving over to her abandoned sword and picking it up from the ground. She examined the blade before turning her eyes up to the sky, where the smoke was still spiraling up towards the clear blue expanse.

“The men that were stationed with you came to me in a frenzy and said you took off in a rush. They said may be in need of some help, and the thought of you of all people needing help against something on its own is a frightening, so I came as soon as I could.” Impulse said from behind her. “What happened?

“It was Grian.” She said, turning towards him. Then, as an afterthought, she tacked on, “And I didn’t need any help. You know me.”

“It hardly matters to me how strong you are, I will always worry for you regardless. It is in my nature.” He said with a smile, which dropped into a more serious look, “But, Grian, you say? Has he not been off the radar for months now? What’s he doing back in the capital on today of all day? Surely he is up to no good.”

She sheathed her sword, taking a moment to wonder if she should share the cryptid warning that the avian had given her. Her eyes flickered over to the nervous knights standing behind her friend. They were clearly new, fresh out of being squires if she had to take a guess. It was highly probable that they would panic upon hearing information such as this. Besides, anything pertaining to Grian and his resistance was more classified than what she was willing to share with just anyone. She would prefer to inform the king of the news, as well, and it was almost nightfall anyway so his arrival to the festival site was fast approaching. It was best she not have to repeat herself when handling such delicate information. You never know who may be listening.

“I think it would be wiser if I don’t share that with so many ears around. This is information better shared to a smaller group.” She informed him. He glanced back at the soldiers behind him and nodded in understanding.

“Let us return to the festival, this time with eyes and ears more focused.” She said, "If he shows his face again, he will not be getting away so easily a second time."

She turned on her heels and deftly made her way back towards the crowded square, the others following after all. She held her head high, posture straight and professional, but underneath the facade was a twisting feeling of unease that she couldn’t get rid of, and which threatened to force her lunch to make a second appearance.

Her mind was racing, her chest was tight. What could her longtime rival have meant with that threat? No, that had been more of a promise than it had been a threat. But a promise of what, she didn’t know, and that is what scared her. Whatever it was that he had in store for the kingdom of Wintertide, he was so incredibly certain of its success that he was willing to seek her out to personally tell her of its existence.

Either he was a fool, or there was something to truly worry about afoot, and something told her it was the latter since she had never known Grian to be a stupid man.

In fact he was quite the dangerous person.

A harmless person could not gain the following and influence that he had over people in such a short time as he had. Even when the people above her had thought of him as little more than a fly buzzing in their ear, she had always taken every move he made seriously. She would be a fool herself not to treat him as the treat he really was.

If anything, she was surprised it had taken so long for him to make his move. With the reach and numbers he seemed to have within the capital it was a wonder something “big” had yet to happen. Why now of all times? What was his game?

She looked over her shoulder at the abandoned alley one last time, her expression hardening into a determined glare. Even with her worry, she knew one thing for certain; whatever it may be that he was planning, she would put an end to it.

He would not succeed.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Was it necessary to toy with her like that?” His hooded companion asked from beside him, tone high and amused.

Grian stood upon the roof, the smoke bomb having given him just enough time to escape out of view. His cloak fluttered in the wind behind him and his hands clenched into fists, his sharp nails digging into his palms. His expression was blank, his black eyes watching as the commander of the royal army grew smaller the further she got from them. She’d almost seen him when she glanced back. Almost, but not quiet.

“Not that I am complaining,” His companion pushed further upon not receiving a response, “It is rather funny, I must admit.”

“I am not toying with her,” He stated, not daring to take his eyes off of the commander until she was well out of view, “It was a real warning.”

“Even worse,” Was the reply, which was then followed by a laugh, “Now she’ll be wary, more prepared than she would have had you said nothing at all. I have to agree with the Commander on this one, Grian, this seems an odd move to make so early into the plan. After all of the work we put into this, it seems entirely counterproductive. Are you not worried she could put an end to this all before it has even begun?”

“Let her try and interfere,” He said, a smile spreading across his face as the wind picked up speed, “There will be no stopping what is to come.”

#GG rivals au #GG main fic #geminitay #grian #scott smajor #impulsesv #hermitcraft #life series #Danny's fics #fic: Thus Always to Tyrants #Point of View: Gem #scar is there kinda but not enough for me to justify main tagging him so he gets a little tag #scar #i've finally got the first chapter out and an ao3 account made!!#I really am having fun writing again #I didn't realize I had missed it so much #I apologize if it is messy #i am open to constructive criticism

79 notes · View notes

ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater · 4 months

Text

Stolen Dance - Yuji Itadori x Reader

Taking a small break from my two Sukuna series to publish this, it's been on my mind for a while especially with tangled Kingdom Dance brainrot (tangled is by far my favourite disney movie) and I just wanted to write some fluffy Yuji to go with it ❤️

Part of my Royal AU

Warnings: None

Word count: 2.2k

“Prince Yuji!” You whisper loudly, “Do not make me do this, you know I never learned to dance!” He looks back at you, still clutching your hand in his with a frighteningly disarming smile on his face that breaks down any argument you had almost instantaneously. “It’s ok, I’m pretty clumsy too, but that’s alright,” He says brightly.

You blush as he squeezes your hand, “I must insist your highness, it is most improper of you to be dancing with someone of my standing!” You hiss. He stops pulling you, looking you up and down briefly. The ball was for his brother, Crown Prince Choso, on his twenty first birthday, and you were a commoner from the town, your father working as a blacksmith and your mother a tailor.

“Who says so?” He tilts his head in such an innocent fashion that your heart breaks slightly. You’ve been friends with the Itadori prince since you were young, your parents were not of high status but your mother was the best dressmaker in Khoccadia, so Yuji’s mother, the queen, called on her often for measurements and orders of extravagant dresses.

You’d often gone with her as her assistant, even when you were young, and she spent an awful lot of time teaching you things you would have learned in school if you’d been allowed to go. When you were not needed during these palace appointments you found yourself in the company of Kaori’s second son, Yuji Itadori.

It has been a fair few years, just shy of thirteen, since you first met him at six years old apiece peeking around his mother’s skirts, your hands clutching a basket of your mother’s sewing implements with her tape measure hanging from your shoulder. Your own dress at the time was a modest pale pink colour, not too different from the colour of his hair, and it was the first thing he noticed and spoke to you about.

“Yuji be reasonable, I am not the daughter of a lord, I am the daughter of a blacksmith and a tailor, if we are seen together in such a public setting-” He cuts you off by stepping closer and using his free hand to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. You fall silent, a blush settling on your cheeks, “Why should I care what they think?” He murmurs, “You’re my friend, and I’m the prince, I should be allowed to dance with whoever I want,”

“It is precisely because you are the prince that we cannot,” You reply softly, looking away from his hand, “I… I cannot bear the thought of so many eyes on me, especially when most of them belong to princesses who would be right at home in your arms in a ballroom,” You feel him shift and look back to see him on one knee before you, his free hand against his heart and still clutching your own.

He looks up at you after taking a deep breath, “Y/n L/n, will you do me the honour and allow me to have your first dance?” You press your free hand to your mouth, a tear slips down your cheek and lands on your dress. This one was made and gifted to you by your mother, a beautiful f/c dress with lacy white flowers embroidered along the bottom hem, slightly off the shoulder with a modest necklace to match, and is definitely fitting of a ballroom of such grandeur.

You see your mother’s soft smile in your head, imagine what she would say if she saw you right now standing in the candlelit hallway with the second prince of your kingdom on one knee, practically begging for you to let him take you back to the ballroom and dance with him. With a deep and shaking breath you let your hand fall to your side, clutching at the skirts of your dress, “You… would seek to steal my first dance like a common thief,” You say, your voice wobbly but your head held high.

He smirks, a wicked thing that sends electricity down your spine, “Oh but I am no thief, my lady, I am but a humble man who wishes to dance with a beautiful girl on a beautiful night, will you be so cruel as to deny me my wish?” The hand that was behind his back is revealed to your eyes suddenly, something resting on his palm as he offers it to you, “Will you go to the ball with me?”

It’s a small bundle of f/c flowers, a wrist corsage with matching ribbons and some intermittent leaves that bring the piece together. You cover your mouth again, tears slipping from your eyes, and he is on his feet in an instant, pulling out his handkerchief and gently swiping the tears away while being careful not to squish the flowers, “Do not cry my lady, it does not befit someone of such beauty,” He murmurs.

“I cry only for you, my sweet prince,” You murmur, “For your heart is as pure as a dewdrop on a rose, your smile as bright as chimes in the wind, I seek only for you to be happy, and if this will make you happy…” You trail off, offering him your wrist, “Then we shall return to the ball together,” He ties the corsage to your wrist with gentle fingers that brush your skin like downy chick feathers, your heart is surely thumping hard enough to be heard from the roof.

Once done he offers you an elbow and you loop your arm through, holding him tightly as your nerves skyrocket. “Allow me to be your knight in shining armour, my lady, I will not leave your side until you declare you are too tired to continue dancing, then I shall escort you to your front door,” You open your mouth to insist he doesn’t have to but before you can he pushes open a door and the sounds of the ball wash over the pair of you.

“After you my lady,” He says, holding the door open as you step past him into the warmth. Once you are inside he is pulling you to the dancefloor with slightly less vigour than he was pulling you through the halls before, and you see him exchange a wink with the band at the end of the hall. The music is quick to change to something light and airy, the rest of the couples spreading out slightly and you take your place in the line of women, standing across from him.

You can already feel the eyes burning through your dress, seeing through your disguise, but he locks his eyes onto yours and you find you cannot look away. This is one dance you can admit you do know, for it is a more traditional one that you have danced with your mother in her sewing room as she seeks distraction from her work, but you did not know Yuji knew it too.

You suspect his wordless exchange with the band has something to do with it, you’re sure they wouldn’t have played this had he not asked, and as the dance begins you find yourself swept in in the tide of people, dancing with anyone and everyone until you reach Yuji at the climax and stay with him until the end, just as every other couple.

You find yourself to be a little out of breath when the song is over and the band’s tone melts into something slower, his arm slipping tighter around your waist and the other sliding up your side to direct your corsage wrist out to the side, lacing his fingers with yours, “Just follow my lead, trust me,” He murmurs, seeing the slight distress in your eyes.

Your torso is pressed up against his, you can feel every button on his jacket and every ridge of his belt, even through your worn-out corset that has really seen better days. Your breath hitches as he starts to move, your free hand finally finding it’s place over his shoulder and resting on the back of his neck, “Yuji, I-” “Shhh,” He murmurs, leaning forwards slightly until his lips are just above your ear, still moving with the music, “You’re safe in my arms, nobody but me can touch you, alright?”

He peeks down at you, “You trust me, right?” Flustered, you struggle to reply at first, but he continues speaking, “When you’re not focused on your feet, you can easily pass for someone who’s had a few lessons,” He’s right, you haven’t been focusing on the movements at all and neither of you has tripped or embarrassed the other.

His grip on your waist tightens slightly as you miss a step, “Hey, focus on me, not on your feet, don’t go ruining your perfect streak just because of something I said,” His lips curl into a lopsided smile, charming and disarming all at once as you fall back into step with him instinctively.

You can hardly call these movements dancing, but nobody else is in a hurry to dance extravagantly so you fit right in among the other couples. “Happy birthday brother,” Yuji nods over your shoulder but you don’t turn your head for the lingering fear of tripping. “Thank you Yuji,” You hear the low rumble of Prince Choso beyond you, and soon he passes into the corner of your eye with a lovely blonde woman in his arms, “It is good to see you well Miss L/n,” He nods to you and you feel yourself flush under his gaze.

“Th-thank you your highness,” You reply cordially, “I trust you are also well?” He smiles softly, “I am happy when my brothers are happy, so yes, I am well,” He glances at Yuji who noticeably blushes for the first time tonight, “Be sure she arrives home safely now brother,” Choso says somewhat sternly before he and his dance partner drift off into the crowd once more.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you,” You hear Yuji murmur which brings your gaze back to his face from where you were following Choso’s departure. His face is soft, his cheeks relaxed and you see a light in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Or perhaps you have, deep in the palace gardens, in your mother’s studio, in front of a huge ornate fireplace in some forgotten lounge room of the palace on a rainy day tucked beneath piles of blankets.

You’re reminded of many moments spent looking into his eyes and seeing an outpouring of unfiltered affection, and suddenly you find yourself overwhelmed. You press further into him, leaning your head sideways against his shoulder as his hand lets yours go and he holds you by your waist, your other arm tucking around his neck too, “Oh Yuji,” You whisper.

He softly shushes you, “I’m not letting you go, I promise,” The music dies away slightly and changes tune again and he is quick to lead you from the dancefloor, his hand staying firmly in yours even under the scrutiny of his father who seems to be able to seek you out no matter where you stand, “Yuji… will you take me home?” You ask once you’re out of the majority of the crowd.

He nods, “Of course my lady,” And the pair of you make the trek to the palace stables where he picks out the sweetest horse for you, a grey mare called Blossom, and then lifts you easily onto her back. You shift until you’re seated comfortably in the side-saddle, afraid of ruining your dress should you sit properly, and he is by your side on his beautiful brown stallion, who you heard him call Ace, before you notice he’s gone.

“Comfortable?” He asks, as if the saddle wasn’t specifically designed for a lady’s comfort in mind, “Let us be off,” The ride is spent deep in wondrous conversation about many things, important and mundane, and when your home is in sight your mother is in the doorway with her hand against her heart, waving happily, “Oh thank goodness you made it here safely!” She says, “A thousand thanks your highness, for bringing my daughter back unharmed,”

Yuji dismounts and then walks to your side, lifting you off your horse with his hands on your hips, “It was nothing Miss L/n, please, just call me Yuji,” “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” You offer quietly, brushing your skirts off slightly as one of his hands lingers on your waist. “How could I refuse?” He smiles down at you, “Lead the way,”

And if, that night, you ended the night by kissing the second prince of Khoccadia, then you were surely dreaming. But if he asked for your hand in marriage not a week later, were you still dreaming? And when your father gave his blessing, was that also a dream?

Your wedding day, more than you could ever hope for and born from a stolen dance, simply could not have been a dream you concluded. Nothing in your wildest imagination could ever compare to the beauty and happiness of that day, and in his arms you knew that nothing could come between you ever again. There was not a single title nor social standing that could come between your prince and his first love.

Hope you enjoyed this, I wrote it all in like two hours when the brainrot took over :))

also because I'm a sucker for yuji+choso sibling fanart please go look at this one by poyopaan here on Tumblr, yes I am starting the fanart thing i said I would before ❤

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x reader #jjk x reader #yuji x reader #choso kamo #chase's royal au oneshots👑

64 notes · View notes

some-pers0n · 5 months

Text

Memoir of an Albatross

Chapter 2 - Blood in the Water

[1] [2] [3]

(Art by Loquatic)

Chapter Description: Albatross, a lonely and ostracized dragonet, finds himself on the Sunset Beach. To entertain himself, he chases a seagull, only to then be interrupted by his two sisters.

[CW: Blood, gore, derealization, verbal abuse, bullying]

Albatross was the type of dragon you wouldn't want to be seen around. He was a dragon that others would make up wild rumours about to explain their natural repulsion to him. The kind of dragon that they would whisper about behind his back, yet put on a face of false kindness to try and hide their disdain. There was something fundamentally different about Albatross. Something that made him undesirable.

He understood this from the moment he hatched. He had vague memories of that day. Distant, fuzzy recollections of the looks given to him by the surrounding dragons. How could there not be some discussion? The newest prince of the SeaWings turning out in such a repugnant way? Why did this happen? Was this the result of some secret affair that the queen had with an IceWing? From his unnaturally pale scales and nearly pitch-black eyes, that wouldn't be such a far-fetched assumption. Maybe a curse had been placed on this egg by a rogue IceWing animus, or perhaps it was some genetic mutation.

Whatever the cause may be, Albatross was not seen as the same in the eyes of many. His sisters, Sapphire and Lagoon, were perfect examples of what a SeaWing should be. Rich, royal blue scales with gorgeous wing patterns. They were naturally gifted with those looks. They were the sorts of dragons that artists in the future would look back on, painting their lavish features and gushing about them and their beauty.

Comparatively? Albatross was a freakshow. His scales were a ghastly grey, looking almost entirely snow-white in certain lighting. His eyes were a deep, dark blue that one could easily mistake for being entirely black. His neck was too long and his wings were too big for his body. His snout was hooked and his teeth seemed far too small, even for his relatively young age. His tail was pointy and whip-like. He smelt vaguely of rotting fish no matter what he tried. Not exactly a great sight for the eyes.

Because of his outward appearance, the others judged him. Something beyond his control or will made him into a circus act for others to gawk at. They look at him and either laugh at his features or worse, pity. Show condescending compassion. Say "I'm so sorry for you" or apologize for something he was hatched with.

He wasn't a tragedy. He didn't want to be remembered as a dragon to pity or be seen as some lost cause. He wanted to be seen for who he was. He would do great things one day. He doesn't want his looks or how others treat him to get in the way of that perception. He wanted to be known as Prince Albatross, a SeaWing who did...something. What that would be was still unclear, but he wanted it to be grand. Important. He wanted to be remembered for years to come for what he did during his life.

For now though? He was alone. Better to be ignored and out of sight from the others than to be acknowledged and seen.

It was peaceful at the Sunset Beach. The Island Palace was a quiet place he liked going to whenever he felt stressed or wanted some time to himself. It was only ever used for visiting diplomats to stay, so it was empty most days. The Sunset Beach was a large stretch of pearl-white sand right next to the beautiful ocean. The waves were foamy and the water was crystal blue. Dotted around were small pavilions covered in decorative lanterns.

Albatross found himself sitting on the sand, just a fair bit away from the waves. He had been digging around in the sand, entertained by playing around with the driftwood and whatever else floated onto the shore. Alone with nothing more than himself and the gentle, yet nevertheless powerful calmness of the ocean.

Until...a seagull came down. From a nearby palm tree. It swooped from on high, landing gracefully onto the shores. It stood there, beak digging around for whatever fish or creature the ocean had spat onto the beach. Albatross watched it intently. He was content with simply seeing it pick the grains and scavenge for remains. Yet, as he did so, he couldn't help but feel a small thought worm its way into him.

Chase it.

He didn't know why he wanted to do it. It simply felt right. He had seen Lagoon and Sapphire do the same with their prey. Albatross could never swim fast enough to catch his own food. Too slow. Too weak. Perhaps now would be his time. He could sneak up on the seagull. Grasp it. Feel it writhe and struggle to break free. Feel the fear course through its body as it tries desperately to live on. Feel some semblance of control and power.

The thought disturbed him though. The other dragons seemed just fine with it. They would tear into sharks, whales; for moon's sake, his fellow peers would cheer and holler in joy upon seeing a prisoner of war be gutted. Was there something odd about him? Perhaps others simply never talked about that part. Kept it under a rug. It was shameful. Some sort of animalistic desire for violence and bloodshed. For dominance. To be a dragon.

They were civilized. They had palaces and kingdoms. Complicated societies and systems put in place to keep a gentle balance. A semblance that they were above the likes of wolf packs. Albatross wasn't an animal. He was a prince of the SeaWings.

...but maybe, for just a moment, he could live a little.

He dug his claws into the sand and pounced. He dove where the seagull was, only to be met with a cloud of dust and debris. It flew away.

"No, come back!" Albatross yelled, spitting out all the sand in his mouth. "Please?"

Miraculously, the seagull seemed to listen. It turned back to him. Eventually, it landed back on the beach. It was entertaining him.

He smiled back. He was about to fling himself at the seagull once more, when he felt something brush against his claws. It was a clamshell. Big one. One of the halves was as big as his talons. It was a dusty white colour, blending in with the rest of the beach.

He grabbed it. "I'm gonna eat you!" he giggled, pointing the shell at the seagull. He imagined it as though it was a dragon's mouth. That it could open up and snap at the bird just like any other set of razor-sharp fangs.

The two continued their dance. Albatross wanted to get it, but at this point, he had more fun playing around. He would leap towards it, the seagull hopping away right in time, and once both parties recovered they'd go again. It was fun. Simple, extraordinary fun. Much better than boring lessons or whatever else his tutors had in store for him. He didn't want it to end.

But, of course, things had to take a turn for the worse, didn't they?

After a couple minutes, Albatross became aware of something. A shift in the air. It wasn't sudden, but it was certainly different. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was most definitely another being present. Watching him. Judging him.

He looked to the ocean. Under the waves were two pairs of glistening blue eyes, glaring at him.

He felt a drop in his stomach as the two dragons rose out of the water, their laughter an ear-splintering chorus of noise. What was once a peaceful and tranquil afternoon on the beach became a playground for them. His sisters.

"Finally! I thought you'd gone blind or something," Sapphire giggled. "I was wondering when you would look over and see us."

"Really? I was enjoying watching him. I didn't think you were actually capable of running." Lagoon teased.

"Why are you here?" Albatross asked. "I thought you both had queen lessons."

"We finished early. Apparently, something happened with Mother, needing to call over all of her advisors. Thank the moons for that. So boring having to learn how to be a queen and to, well, rule over everyone," Lagoon said, passively looking at her claws.

His sisters weren't exactly the greatest of dragons, especially towards Albatross. They made it clear that they didn't like him. He was their weird brother who came out wrong. Who was a blemish on the otherwise perfect royal family. A pathetic good-for-nothing blob that should've been strangled the moment he crawled out of his egg.

Sapphire, despite being the middle dragonet, bossed around everyone. She was next in line for the throne. Even though that'd be years away from now, she acted as though she was on top of the world. Queen of everything. Most of their antics against him were her ideas, with Lagoon tagging along just because she found it funny.

Of course, right when he was having a bit of fun by himself, they'd have to ruin it all.

"So you came over to annoy me?" he asked.

"Annoy you? Why would you think we would do that?" Sapphire gasped. "No, no, we were very interested in talking with you. Seeing what our precious brother is up to! We were so worried about you. We thought you ran off."

Her words were sickening to hear. That fake sympathy and compassion that made his stomach churn. "I was doing just fine before you got here." He swiped at the sand.

"You don't like us?" Lagoon crooned. "I thought you cared about us. Aren't we your sisters? I mean, we could always treat you worse." They walked up onto the shore. They were far bigger than him, perhaps another head taller. "I don't think you'd like that. You're already so weak."

"I am not weak!" he snapped back.

Sapphire let out a squawk of a laugh. "You couldn't even catch a seagull! You just kept jumping around it. Great reefs, that's sad to see."

Albatross turned around and tried to get away, only to trip and fall. His tail was caught under their talons. His chin hit the sand with a distinct thump.

"Where are you going?" They both said in an eerie harmony. "We just got here!"

"Just leave me alone..." Albatross grabbed at his ears, pulling them down to try and block their words out. But, to no avail.

"What? Can't handle a little light teasing? Moons above, that's so sad." Sapphire walked in front of him, looking him up and down. Her eyes landed on the seashell clutched to his chest.

A wicked grin cracked across her snout as she said, "ooh, what's that you've got there?" Her voice was grating, like claws against metal.

"It's mine!" he yelled back. He tried to sound intimidating, but it came out as a mere squak.

"Give it." Sapphire grabbed at it, tugging the shell.

"No! Please, Sapphire..." He held onto it tighter, pulling it back.

"Why do you care so much about this stupid thing?" she laughed. "Do you really not have anything else to care about."

Albatross tried to speak, but the words never found their footing. He stammered and stuttered, choking back tears. Yet, he kept holding on. He couldn't let them take another thing from him. Even if it was as small as a shell, he wanted something to call his own.

"What, are you going to cry?" Sapphire mocked. "Boo hoo, my mean ol' sister took my stupid shell." She whacked him in the stomach with her tail.

He recoiled, letting go. The pain shot through his system, taking the air from his lungs. He gasped for breath as he looked up to her.

She stood there, absently inspecting the shell. "Stupid shell," she said, "I can't believe you fought so much over it. Besides, it'll be mine anyway. Everything here will be mine. I'm the eldest daughter, right? So, obviously, I'll be queen. And when I'm queen, I own everything. You're just a prince."

She tilted her head to the side, mocking his mannerisms. "But, nobody will care. Nobody loves you. We just have to put up with you and your weird, ugly self."

Albatross dug into the sand. Tears welled in his eyes. "That's...not true." He mumbled.

"What's that?" Lagoon asked. "What did you say? Say it again!" She grabbed him by the neck.

"I said it's not true!"

The both of them cackled like a flock of seagulls. "What?! Of course it is! Who even likes you?" Sapphire flicked her tail at him. "You could die right here and nobody would cry. Nobody would care."

Then, a shift in Sapphire's eyes. "You know, that won't be the worst thing in the world. Mother wouldn't even be upset. Princes are only meant to be married off, but who could even stand to be with you." She raised her talons, claws still on the shell. "Wouldn't you like that, brother?"

Albatross's stomach dropped. "No...no, no, no please, Sapphire, no..."

"Sapphire?" Lagoon said, "I'm not...I don't think that's a good idea." She sounded genuine.

"Why not? What has he ever done to us? For anybody? He just makes everything worse." She brandished her claws. "It'd be better for everyone."

Fear took hold of his body. He flailed in all directions, yet he could not free himself from Lagoon's hold. The only free thing was his mouth.

He looked up. He saw the shell. Then, as though instinct itself was speaking through him, he screamed. He could barely comprehend it before the words left his mouth.

"BITE HER!" he yelled, crying louder than he ever had before. "TEAR HER CLAWS OFF!"

The next moment was painted in scarlet. A splatter of ruby liquid on the sand. It pooled and grew larger, dripping down from above.

Albatross didn't feel like himself. There was a loud, piercing ring in his ears that drowned the world out. His body felt cold and numb. His brain was full of fog and he could barely think. He felt detached from reality, like an observer of the chaos.

The pressure that was on him– Lagoon, definitely– released. He pushed himself upwards, staggering to his talons. He looked blankly ahead.

She was thrashing. Her mouth was unhinged as though she was screaming, but Albatross couldn't hear a thing through the ring. Her wails and cries, while inaudible, were full of agony. Her face was painted with horror.

Lagoon was by her side, similarly in shock. She was trying to stop Sapphire, keep her still. Eventually, she tore something from Sapphire's claws. It landed by Albatross's talons, splashing in the puddle of blood. It splattered onto him, his talons, everything.

It was the clamshell. Its jaws held bits and pieces of flesh and gore in them.

He looked back at Sapphire. She held her talons up. Where her claws should have been were fountains of viscera. They were both screaming. Lagoon turned to him, yet he couldn't hear a word. He felt hollow. Absent. There should have been emotion, but instead, everything was muted.

This...couldn't be real. Why was this happening? He didn't mean to hurt her. He didn't want to hurt her. Whatever it was, he knew it was his fault.

He looked at his talons, and for the first time in his life, he became aware of the slight burning sensation within his claws.

Rapidly, he gained feeling all over his body, as if suddenly pulled back into reality. His knees gave way and he fell to the ground. He shook, trying desperately to make so much as a squeak, yet nothing came out. His eyes were wide with fear.

The screams. By the tides the screaming. It was unlike anything he could properly fathom. A shrill shriek that made his blood run cold. He couldn't properly think of what else to compare it to. He had never heard somebody in so much pain before.

Lagoon quivered, tears rolling down her face. She looked back at Albatross, her expression shifting to one of hatred and anger. "YOU KILLED HER!" she snapped. "How could you do this?! You- you monster!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"You did! You killed her! She's going to die!"

Albatross tried choking out another response, but he couldn't. He backed away. The sands were stained with Sapphire's blood. Everywhere he stepped his talons became soaked in it.

It was his fault. Everything. He's to blame. Sapphire is dying. All that happened was a little squabble. She probably didn't mean it when she said she was going to kill him.

But how? How could he do this? He was just a SeaWing. A normal, typical dragon.

He felt sick to stand there. Slimy and disgusting. A passive observer while watching her sister bleed out and die. She didn't deserve this.

He stared at Sapphire's stubby talons. They gushed blood. He held out his claws, pointing to it. He didn't know why. It felt right. That same instinct rushed through him. This deep-rooted knowledge that he never knew he had.

"Stop bleeding!" he cried out. The words were loud and clear, as if he was ordering Sapphire.

Then, stillness. Sapphire held up her claws. The three stood in silence as the scales began to heal. They did not regrow the talons but left them as is. They were healed.

Sapphire stared blankly at her talons, eyes wide and transfixed on them. Then, she promptly fainted. Not dead, but simply overwhelmed. She wasn't going to die. He saved her.

"It's...healed?" Albatross muttered. "How? Why? There can't be any-"

"Magic."

A pang in his heart. He turned back to Lagoon. "What?"

"Animus magic." She looked at him, her eyes piercing his very soul. "That was magic. You're an animus."

#wof #wings of fire #sp-writing #albatross wof #wings of fire fanfic #wof fanfic

60 notes · View notes

balbigalum · 2 years

Note

Hi!! Could you write something about Aemond and reader in a modern setting? where they're both in college or something, like a reader pretty nervous that Aemond is sitting next to her or watching her idk something cute and tense please

okay let me know if you vibe with this setting (i’m not sure modern aus are my thing, the blurb is under the readmore)

aemond is still modern day royalty, more like the danish royal family rather than the british royal family (the danish have a lot more lose norms for the royal family they’re basically aristocrats unlike the british that can’t do anything tbh

still he is like 10th in the line of succession so he gets to have a life outside of the spotlight

he goes to university

probably majoring in philosophy or maybe law

he still wears his hair long and he has an eyepatch (a lot more modern and a lot less pirate-ish)

he doesn’t have many friends outside of his siblings and nephews and tries to keep to himself

you share two classes with him and the targaryens are always a hot topic on everybody’s mouth

After a well needed vacation with your family you had returned to university, you were in your 3rd year already, following in your father’s footsteps to maybe one day take after him in the family business. Oldtown was bubbling alive with the school year starting, the streets filled with young students, some faces you knew, some others you didn’t. You had gotten yourself a small apartment on top of a flowershop some blocks away from the main building of the university, you had a spare room yet you didn’t have a roommate. You had to admit you were sort of a shy person, your mother’s anxiety had bleed onto you during your childhood and still carried some of her habits, something you were working on, you had a fair amount of friends, but you couldn’t help to feel like an outsider sometimes.

The first class was on “Ethics of Myrish Theory”, the room was almost all the way full when you came in, and there was an incessant wave of whispering and chatting coming from all angles. You wondered what was that about. Some of your classmates were keeping an eye out for the door, had something happened with the professor? You didn’t recall the name of the person that was supposed to teach the subject, maybe it was some Myrish eminence you forgot about. A small bubble of anxiety started rising from your stomach to your throat, you tried to push it down, it was the first day, it was okay to not know whatever current gossip going on. You found a spot and tried to calm yourself down, you could handle school.

By the time the professor arrived the class had simmered down, he was getting ready to introduce himself when the doors opened one last time. You felt how the entire class turned around to look but you kept your head on the board, you personally didn’t enjoy being stared at when you arrived late, so you made a conscious effort to not look. You could swear you heard a small gasp from someone in the class, but you paid no mind to it.

Someone started moving the chair next to you and the little bubble of anxiety you had tried so hard to keep down was making its way back again. “Excuse me.” The person mumbled while taking the seat. You understood why people had been whispering and gossiping, there was a Targaryen signed up for this class. “No problem.” You replied and he didn’t bother saying anything else, you started thinking maybe your voice wasn’t loud enough and he hadn’t even heard you in the first place. You shook your head a little, trying to keep that kind of thoughts away.

The lecture carried on as usual, you rarely sat next to people, always trying to find some empty spot you could occupy with all of your papers and books, so you couldn’t help to get a glimpse of the man next to you. His hair was long and a pearly shade of silver and he was dressed in all black. A small curiosity perked up in you about which of all of the Targaryen children was sitting next to you, if you recalled properly the family was numerous, especially after the king had remarried. You found yourself unable to list the names of all the family members, you could recite the names of the important members of the dinasty like Aegon The Conqueror or Visenya but your interest in history outweighed your interest in the current tabloids.

You were too lost in your own mind when you noticed that he was speaking to you. "--Is that?" He was staring at you, he had asked you a question. You noticed how he wore a black patch over one of his eyes, you weren't sure where to look. The bubble was ready to burst. "Huh-" You started muttering and he cut you.

"I asked you what book is that?" He looked at the professor again. "He said we're using a short book this semester, I haven't had time to pick up the schedule and material."

"Oh-" You replied. "Yeah, um… That's 'Cults and Tribes in R'hllor's Essos'" You picked up the book from your own bag to show it to him, but he was still looking at the professor, you awkwardly put the book on the table for him to see it.

"Thanks," He said. "I think I have that."

"You do?" Surprise overtook you before you could realize. "I mean… I had a really hard time finding it, my dad had to get it shipped from Essos." You lowered your voice towards the end of the sentence, you felt as if you shouldn't have spoken at all, you didn't know what it was but you always managed to make yourself feel out of place.

"Yeah I know, I got it, tho." He commented, a small but confident smile painted his face. And as quick as it came it was gone.

You tried to keep your eyes on the professor and your notes for the rest of the class, making an effort of not paying attention to your surroundings, you wanted to enjoy your classes. Finally, the lecture came to an end and you started picking up your stuff, you could see from the corner of your eye the Targaryen Prince doing the same.

"Here," he said, pushing the small red book in your direction. "Don't forget your book." You nodded. "See you around." He said, he didn't wait for a reply, he was gone.

Later that week you found out his name was Aemond Tagaryen, son of King Viserys by his second wife. You had commented to a friend over coffee about your first day of school and your silver-headed classmate, with a short description she was quick to figure out you were talking about Aemond. She told you about sharing classes with Helaena Targaryen last year, and how weird people acted when they were around. Your friend made a point by rolling her eyes, she found unmature how some people would try to get the royal's attention. "It speaks poorly of their character," She said. "It's lame, leave them alone." You could agree with her, it had to be awkward to be followed around like that.

You saw Aemond again on friday, you shared another class, this time neither of you sat close together, and for the most part you forgot he was there. Next monday he sat by your side again, and you both fell into some sort of routine. On mondays you two would sit together, most of the time in silence, you could feel some people from your class staring at you from time to time, on fridays, on the other hand he would pretend you didn't exist.

You didn't understand why he was doing what he was doing but you tried to focus on your school work, socializing was scary enough on its own, you didn't wanna overthink every small thing you did. Anxiety had made your life hard for many years, especially during your teenhood, you had found a way to get it under control these past years.

It was one of those mondays when the professor announced the first essay to be made by the class, when he announced it had to be done in pairs your gut knotted. You heard Aemond hum.

"We could meet up at the library, what time does it work for you?" He asked, he didn't even ask if you two were partners, he simply assumed it. You nodded your head.

"Wednesday? Around 4pm?" You asked.

"Sure." For once you paid attention to the lilac shade of his eye.

The library was giant and older than any other building in Oldtown, maybe any other building in Westeros, you always found yourself admiring its structure, you could spend hours wandering around the library and you were sure you wouldn't be able to learn about every single corner and room it had. It was simply amazing.

You were able to spot Aemond in one of the big tables, away from the main flow of the library, again he was wearing all black but you had to admit his choice of leather jacket suited him perfectly. You sat across from him and you two began working, the essay was long and tedious already on its own, the fact that you had to write it in pairs just made it more difficult. You learned he was fluent in valyrian, which came in handy with so many valyrian terms used in Myrish literature, you had your own small knowledge of the language but with so many dialects and countries you found yourself lost when it came to it.

After some time you realized you could feel Aemond’s eye burning over you, he was staring at you, and he wasn’t making any effort in concealing it. You felt heat rise up your neck, you were trying to ignore his eye on you but now that you had noticed it you couldn’t shake the feeling away. You realized how hard you were pressing the tip of your pen against the paper, you wanted to go outside and breathe some fresh air but you felt unable to get up from your seat.

When you finally dared to meet his gaze he had a soft smirk on his lips.

“You don’t speak much, do you?” He asked you, his voice was always smooth and calculated, you envied that of him.

“I do speak… I just never know if you wanna talk.” You explained. His brows furrowed together in question.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we work together on mondays but you never even look in my direction on fridays,” You explained, again bubbles of anxiety were filling you from the inside out. “You don’t even come to say hi.” It was true, you shared smalls conversation on mondays but when friday came it was like you became invisible, you had gone over all of the possibilities, maybe he had a girlfriend that took that same class with him and he had to pretend to not know any other girl, maybe he was just an asshole using you for your notes.

“What?” He said. “You’re on ‘Western Philosophy’?” It was your time now to be confused, he was making you feel like a fool.

“Yes, I sit by the window every friday, you have walked past me many times.” He looked down and his pale complexion betrayed him by getting a light shade of pink. Was he blushing?

“Oh–” He said. “I… That’s my bad side.” He explained. “The window is on my blind-spot, I never saw you there.”

Oh.

You wanted the earth to shatter under you and to fall into any of the seven hells, Aemond Targaryen was blind in one eye which meant he walked around campus with a blind spot, he was probably insecure about it too given how he was avoiding your eyes now… You felt stupid, you had never considered the fact. You let your face fall onto your hands.

“I’m so sorry,” You started. “Aemond, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s okay,” He said. “I– I just can’t believe I never bothered looking around.”

“No, it’s my fault,” You interrupted him. “I should have gone over and said hi to you, I just didn’t wanna bother you… I know some people on campus try to get your and your siblings' attention…” He shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it… Let’s just leave it at that, okay?” He asked.

“Are you sure?” It was a silly mistake but you did feel bad about the whole deal, about bringing up his eye and accusing him of being rude, you felt a strong sense of guilt.

“Yes, please, don’t worry about it… At least now I know I can sit by your side on fridays.” He shrugged. “Finally I get to complain with someone about that class.” You relaxed and sat back on your chair comfortably, he shot you a toothless smile and you found yourself thinking of his lips. After a beat of silence he added.

“So… My siblings, you know my siblings?”

“Wha– Yeah, of course.” You said, of course you did, your friend had mentioned them. She had mentioned every single one of the living members of the royal family, you were unsure of how many names she had said.

“Really? What are their names?” He asked without looking up from his paper, he was teasing you.

“Um… You know…” You made a vague motion with your hand. “Elena… and Luke?” He let out a cackle, which you didn’t know he was capable of doing, and quickly covered his mouth. “There was a Luke,” You protested. “I’m sure there was a Luke.”

“Luke is my nephew, not my brother.” He said. You rolled your eyes. “It’s the same thing.” You said elongating the last word, he was staring at you, again, but this time you didn’t feel as anxious.

(part 2)

(I have not re-read this and I'd probably do so in the morning and hopefully catch any little mistake and that kind of stuff :p yeah whatever lol)

#aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fic #anon #blurb #modern au

495 notes · View notes

samlovesradiohead · 16 days

Text

false idols - ch. 2

lucifer x f!reader

cw: slow burn, drug + alcohol usage, lowkey enemies to lovers, more to be added

wc: 2.3k

a/n: rip charlie you wouldve loved taylor swift, lululemon, and stanley cups. charlie would love the clean girl aesthetic. (btw, i get a lot of my inspo from taylor swift and phoebe bridgers i love them so much) I REALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER NEXT ONE WILL BE BETTER TRUST ME. im winging this whole story

thinking about making a playlist for this fic. anyway heres the song i been listening to on repeat while writing this: the albatross - taylor swift (the tortured poets department - the anthology)

“Why didn’t you tell me you were famous?! That is so cool!!!” Charlie bursts in your room, startling you so much that you almost fall off your bed. It was after dinner, and you had announced to the group you were turning in for the night. You were in the middle of watching hell’s equivalent to trashy reality TV, and it was pretty entertaining.

“Sorry for scaring you, I’m just really excited at the news!”

“Who told you?” You ask, but you already have an idea. And when she replies with Angel’s name, you internally high-five yourself for guessing correctly. You adjust yourself to sit upright at the edge of the bed to face Charlie. “I figured. I was just answering his questions while having a drink with him and Husk at the bar.”

You can see Charlie practically vibrating in excitement at this new revelation. “What kind of songs did you sing? What genre? How many fans did you have? Did-” Charlie is abruptly interrupted by you.

“One question at a time, girl!” You give a light chuckle at Charlie’s embarrassment, a light pink flush decorating her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, you’d think as the princess of hell I’d be accustomed to people with status, but it’s different! The ones I know are just old, stuck-up royals. I’ve never met a famous singer before.” Charlie giddily explains, hands clasped together.

“It’s fine. I’ve seen way worse reactions when people meet me. I used to be a popstar. I’d say I was…” you didn’t want to seem like an asshole bragging about how many fans you had, “decently famous. Of course, there are always people who had to catastrophize the things I did, so, my career did have its fair share of scandals.” You make the assumption that she would also like to know how you died, so you tell her. “Now I’m here because I got poisoned at a party.”

You still think your death was not how it should’ve been. But you can’t do anything to change it now. Young starlets died all the time. You weren’t special. Honestly, you thought you’d be a bit sadder about dying. But with death came an escape from the chains of your previous life, and for that you are grateful.

An exasperated expression paints her face as you nonchalantly let her know how you wound up in hell. “That’s a horrible way to go, I’m sorry you went through that. At least you’re here now!”

You sigh. “It’s alright. I was being stupid, kinda deserved it. It’s whatever now. I’m glad you guys were the first people I found. I don’t wanna imagine what could have happened to me if I stayed out in the streets. Thank you, Charlie, seriously.”

“I just want to help my people. It’s no big deal.”

You smile at that. Charlie, the ever-saintly hellborn.

She sparks up. “I know it's your first day, and I’m not sure how much the others have told you, but sometimes, especially powerful sinners gain powers relating to how they lived or died. I figured since you were quite reputable on earth, you’d have powers that coincided with your singing, kind of like my mom. We don’t have to test that out right now, but I was just letting you know!”

Woah. “Really? Hmm, I might test it out later.” A part of you hopes that you do indeed have powers. Maybe you could scream at supersonic levels and make people’s ears explode.

“Okay, next question! Do you think… how do I word this… do you think some of your fans are down here?” Huh. You actually never considered that. Your career spans from your late teens to 27 years old (since that’s the age you died at). There’s no way some fans haven’t died throughout that span. You ponder her question for a second.

“More than likely. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Charlie’s eyes light up. You can already tell she has something planned. “I have the most fantastic idea ever involving you but I don’t want to push you out of your comfort zone this early into your stay here, but what if we orchestrated a mini-concert, with you singing of course! Sinners and your fans that are down here can come enjoy your music and learn about the hotel, maybe they’ll take a chance on redemption!”

You gotta hand it to Charlie: she really wants to help sinners. Her explanation earlier was evidence enough, but her pure dedication is admirable. As for you, you’re not sure redemption is possible, as there hasn’t been proof of it. You’re not even sure if you want to go to heaven. For now, you’ll help Charlie with her dream while trying to figure out what you want. It’s the least you could do, as she is letting you basically free-load off of her.

Her idea didn’t really deter you, anyway. You performed at packed stadiums plenty of times, a simple concert isn’t that bad. A tiny part of you is excited to visit the echoes of your former glory. Is that selfish, to want to restore what once was?

“That sounds cool. I’m down. But, uhhh, where and how will we make that happen?” The logistics of the situation hit you mid-agreement. Seriously, how?

Charlie laughs, “I’ll ask my dad, Lucifer. He can basically make anything at the snap of his fingers. Ooh, by the way, I’m going to call him up tomorrow. He may or may not swing by and visit.”

You stand up immediately at that. “Lucifer?! Like the Devil from the Bible!??!” Why did it not hit you till now? You figured her dad was some king or whatever, but you didn’t expect her dad to be THE king of hell. The church raised you on the scariest iterations of Lucifer, so you only expect the worst. What if he incinerates you for looking at him wrong?!

She chuckles at your reaction. “He is nothing like what humans are taught. He’s a real sweet guy, albeit a little… distant. I promise, he won’t kill you a second time, unless you do something really bad. But I doubt you will!”

Her assuring words offer some comfort to your original antsiness. Still, it’ll be your second day tomorrow and you’re already (possibly) meeting the king of hell. “That’s … refreshing to know.”

“It’ll be alright.” Charlie reassures you, assuring herself as well in the process. “Anyway, I’ll leave you alone for the night. Vaggie and I’s suite is just down the hall, knock if you need anything.” She back steps towards the door, swinging it open. “Goodnight!” she says before closing your door. You repeat the pleasantry. The door clicks, signaling its closure.

Sleep came quite quickly after the talk with Charlie. But before slumber pulled you under, you did some introspection while staring at the blank ceiling above you. This time of the day is when you surrender yourself to your worst thoughts.

You thought of this while dying, but now its persistence has fully enraptured your attention. You can’t help but think of the world you left behind. Did they find your body yet? You can see the tabloids now: “Global Popstar Phenomenon Found Dead from Laced Drink at Trashy Party Bathroom”. What a joke.

Even now, you are nitpicking yourself to atoms as you realize you’re thinking about what the world thinks of you instead of worrying about the few real people who cared for you.

You can count on one hand how many people carried genuine sympathy for you. Two friends from your childhood, but even that’s pushing it because you haven’t been keeping up with them. You’d count your ex, but that was before. So… who was left to mourn you?

These self-deprecating thoughts came to you in familiarity. It is known that celebrities are extremely unhappy and you were no exception.

In life, perfection was always a concept you tried to reach. You knew you couldn’t do it, but you tried to get as close as possible to it. It didn’t help that your management team was also ensuring you were at your best at all times. With practice and rehearsals for concerts leaving you overly exhausted and bruised, to taking hours in the dressing room, trying on different outfits and makeup styles to see what fits best, you don’t know how you’ve survived that long under those conditions. The team will be very relieved to find out they don’t have to manage a prima donna anymore if they didn’t know you were dead already. And this thought made you feel awful. God damn, why is it every thought trails back to you feeling bad about yourself?

You push these demeaning voices aside as you close your eyes.

– – – –

You wake up to the sound of rustling coming from your closet. Still, your morning grogginess lingers. Rubbing your eyes while sitting up, you try to focus your vision on the movement coming from the closet.

Hearing you move instantly had Charlie shooting her head out of the closet. “Oh My Gosh I am SOOOO sorry for waking you up. But I forgot to give you a wardrobe, so I woke up super early to go get some outfits for you! And I may or may not have been listening to your music catalog while out in town…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at her, she was just so adorable. Her unlimited kindness is fascinating to you. “It’s okay, Charlie. This is about the time I wake up anyway. But you were listening to my music? I didn’t know hell had access to earthly media.”

She stands up, straightening out her clothes as she explains, “We don’t! But you know, after tinkering around and doing some searches, I found a website that uploads music from earth! How they manage that, I’m not sure. But it’s there! It seemed like your entire catalog was there, so I listened! I’ve been listening since last night before Vaggie told me to go to sleep. You’re such a great songwriter and singer!”

You were used to compliments up on earth. Oftentimes, they were said under false pretenses and malicious reasons. But for some reason, it feels more personal now. Maybe it was the genuine look and obvious sincerity in her tone, but it was different than usual. Blood rushes to your cheeks as you stammer out a mousy ‘thank you’.

“Oh! By the way, Vaggie’s almost done with breakfast. So, get ready!”

It’s after breakfast, and you sit on the couch with Angel Dust, watching Charlie pace back and forth.

“Babe, just call him. You won’t know his answer unless you talk,” Vaggie says, trying to console her girlfriend. Charlie takes a deep breath.

“Okay, you’re right. I am calling my dad.” And so she did.

You felt bad for her, seeing as her responses and facial expressions were evident of her emotions. It was clear her and her father don’t have the closest relationship, with her grimacing face making an appearance continually throughout the call. After a minute of awkwardness, she ends the call, turning to the group who were now seated on the couch.

“Okay sooooooooooo my dad’s going to be here in an hour.”

Angel and Niffty seem excited at the news.

“I’ve always wanted to meet the big dick in charge.”

“The ultimate bad boy!”

Vaggie pretends like she didn’t hear that. She takes charge as she gives out orders to the residents. “Alright, Lucifer’s going to be here in an hour. Let’s get this hotel presentable.”

— — — —

Lucifer continues to stare at the portrait, even after the call ends. The frozen glimpse of the family haunts him. He can feel an isolating cold run through his body as he stares into the eyes of both his daughter and … ex-wife. Charlie, standing there, shyly smiling, but with wide bright eyes. And Lilith, the former Queen of Hell, emulates prestige and elegance like no other. Even framed, her beauty was radiant. A looming aura of gloom and despair was ever present within the king.

Some days, Lucifer thinks he’s finally over it and that he’s ready to face everyone after years of cowardice. But one glance back at the stagnant memory and into the hypnotizing gaze of his first love, he crumbles apart again, just as he did when he first saw her in Eden.

It is unfathomable to him that after being condemned to damnation for eternity, raising hell from the ground up, and creating a child together that she would leave it all behind. 7 years has not changed his questions for her disappearance. He knew it was getting rocky after Charlie was born. Even with Lilith constantly taking Charlie away from Lucifer and arguments over the governance of Hell, he never thought she’d leave after over 10,000 years of marriage.

To be quite honest, Lucifer is tired of Lilith haunting him. Echoes of her presence still linger in the palace and her phantoms breach the darkest corners of his psyche. It’s like she’s tormenting him with memories of her and their love. He wishes he could get over it that quickly, but being together since the fall of humanity has instilled its lasting legacy on him. Lucifer does not want to be a doddering fool who keeps wistfully yearning for the woman he loves, but he can’t help but play the role. He obviously still loves her dearly, but he knows what they had has long been buried by time.

This phone call with Charlie has granted him a chance to make up for the past few years of distance, isolation, and hurt he has bestowed upon his own daughter.

“I’m trying my best, dearest.” His fingers trace Lilith’s enigmatic figure in the portrait.

---- ----

tag :3 @vififofum

#false idols lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

22 notes · View notes

rendy-a · 1 year

Note

if requests are still open, and if it's okay for me to ask for a follow-up; Can I ask how thankful the boys would be for the time-breaker S/O's UM during their daily lives ? slice of life, fluff, goofy "moments before disaster" saved by S/Os UM, all those good things :D I've been thinking about a few highlights, like... Slowing time around the table area during an unbirthday party because Ace ALMOST crashed into the table; S/O uses their unique magic to get up and hold him by the back of his jacket in time to yank him back onto his feet; S/O is now a mandatory attendant to all unbirthday parties as result... (On the bright side, Riddle looks a whole lot more relaxed now) Cheka tries to ambush S/O and Leona when he takes them home to meet the family. S/O turns around in slow motion during Cheka's leap; now S/O is gently holding the young boy by the back of his shirt, nonchalantly smug, "To be fair, i think was a good attempt?" (Leona knows he must not laugh but what the fuckLMFAO- ) Jamil's list of daily "Almost-s" is no longer a threat to his heart with S/O around, but the way his S/O delivers news to him by throwing letters Kaiba-style only to freeze them in place almost does it; but its the good news that make his heart jump this time (the news itself is up to you but i'm imagining smth along the lines of "Kalim's older siblings came back from buying milk and made some new friends who decided to be guards lmfao you can just work halftime now, congrats" written in a royal way) ...these boys better give their S/O a hug and some kisses for all that effort, honestly

(you don't have to choose from the ones i wrote or do any of 'em!! i'm just very happy to read your writing at all and I wanted to share whats in my mind in case it gave you any ideas too ^^ thank you for writing twst, and I'm so sorry for the long asks!! I like to hope it makes writing easier rather than harder for you x( <3333 )

Goodness, I thought this would be fast to right since I'd just finished the last one but it took me the same amount of time. Anyway, here is a part 2 for this story.

Making a Moment Last Afterwards

Life as a magical prefect has its perks. How do things change between you and your sweetheart after your confession?

Riddle had always saw his future as that of a magical doctor, fixing people who were injured or broken. Maybe that is why the way you use your ability to prevent injury so catches his attention. One morning, you came to meet him at Heartslabyul so you could walk to class together. You give him a warm smile as way of a greeting. “Right on time dear,” he says with a smile. Just then, a student lets his mind wander too much on the iconic eye-bending staircases and stumbles. “Ack!” he yelps as he starts a tumble down the stair, hand just missing the railing. Riddle reaches for his pen but you are faster. Before he hits the ground, you have him frozen in place. You hold him there, suspended in time, until Trey and Cater are able to grab him by his jacket. Then you release your magic and the upperclassmen yank their junior back onto his feet, thus preventing a horrible accident.

“Why do these stairs need to be designed so crazy!” the shaken student complains. You feel like that was not a well-timed complaint and, glancing at your boyfriend’s face slowly turning into an angry scowl, you know you were correct. “Because that is tradition!” you say with forced humor, patting your bristling boyfriend on the arm. Riddle calms down and gives a sharp nod, as if to say ‘Exactly! So there!’ Then he turns to you and offers his arm with a satisfied smile. His dearest always knows just what to do.

The next incident was during preparations for the upcoming Unbirthday Party. A freshman was up on a ladder to paint the highest roses red when a certain grey fire gremlin runs wildly past, knocking the ladder and sending the student flying. You fling out your magic, catching the first year in time to save him a bad fall but not fast enough to prevent a wrenched wrist. Luckily, you know enough first aid to help him wrap it tight before sending him to the school infirmary. Riddle looks at you, wrapping the student’s wrist, and gets a thought; you are just like a nurse. “What’s that?” Deuce asks him. Riddle blushes, did he say that out loud?

When the day of the Unbirthday party arrives, you sit happily on the right side of Riddle. He smiles with such satisfaction to have you seated in a place of honor by his side. “Urgh!” You hear a student cry out as he trips, flinging a pot of hot tea toward a group of students. Thankfully, you manage to catch the hot tea before it hits anyone. You still rush over to the group to check them over (better safe than sorry!) while also scolding the stumbling student to be more careful on the uneven ground.

You finish looking over the last student and give him a pat, “I think you are good.” He smiles sheepishly at you and replies, “Thank you, Nurse Rosehearts.” Your eyes widen and your mouth makes a little O shape. That is nothing compared to the levels of embarrassment your boyfriend is experiencing. “What did you say?” he asks menacingly. “Ah, well you see…um Deuce told us you call the Prefect your nurse and we all thought it was fitting so…” Riddle is now a shade of red you hadn’t realized it was possible for a human to turn, “Deuce. If you have nothing better to do with your head than spread rumors, I take it you have no objections to me claiming it. OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” You mouth ‘sorry’ to your collared friend as Riddle continues to scold him.

Later that night, Riddle muses as he brushes his teeth. Nurse Rosehearts. That has a nice sound to it.

Your life with Leona could be summarized in one word, restful. How could it not be, the lazy second prince insisted you nap with him whenever he could get a moment of your time. Some of the students from Savanahclaw think it’s cute, the proud Leona wanting to cuddle his sweet little herbivore like his own personal teddy. Those who spent the most time around him knew better. It was for your special skills.

Leona’s guide to napping Part 1, prepare the environment. The botanical garden was a favorite date spot for you and your boyfriend. The temperature was temperate, the plants were colorful background and, during classes, it was nice and quiet. Usually.

Leona’s ears flicker irritably. Drip. Drip. Drip. A huffing sound escapes from your boyfriend’s lips as he pulls you closer, attempting to drown his awareness of the sound with your comforting presence. Drip, drip, drip. He grips you and rolls over to his other side, bringing you along for the ride. “Woah, come on; warn a person before you do something like that!” you scold. He opens a single eye to glare out from, a “Tck” sound slipping out irritably when he sucks is teeth in annoyance. “Fine, fine. Want me to get up and see if I can tighten the faucet?”

When he rumbles deep in his chest and grips you even tighter, you know that is a no. ‘Fine,’ you think, ‘time for a last resort measure.’ Moments later the sound stops. Leona’s eyes open at the cessation of the sound, instincts pulling him to alertness at the change in atmosphere. After a moment, his gaze falls on your amused expression, of course you’d stopped it with your magic. “Five minutes tops. You better fall asleep fast.” He smiles, drawing your head into his chest. “Won’t even take two, Herbivore.”

Leona’s guide to napping Part 2, avoid pests at all costs. You could hear the screeching from down the hall. Children just operated at their own frequency. The look on Leona’s face said he found the joyful chirrups more like you’d take nails on a chalkboard. His face visibly annoyed as the young Checka clutched at his hand exclaiming, “Unka Leona, look! Unka Leona, see that!” at every little point of interest. You feared, if he didn’t get a break soon, Leona would snap.

“Hey Checka, want to see a cool field where you can catch butterflies?” you suggest. The bright face of the child turns to you, “Yeah!” Leona smiles at you gratefully and attempts to shake Checka’s hand off. “No, you come too, Unka Leona!” Checka insists. Leona’s smile falls into a stern frown quickly. You quickly move to catch his eye and give him a conspiratorial wink. Leona looks at you for a long moment and then sighs. “Lead the way, Herbivore.”

When you get to the fields near Ramshackle, there were indeed an assortment of moths and butterflies that flitted between the grasses and blooms. “Come on Checka, I’m a pro at this! Let’s go!” you shout and grab the little cub’s hand to urge him to join you. And he does, allowing Leona to slip into the tall grass for a short reprieve from his noisy charge.

Only the peace doesn’t last. What seems like a brief moment later, Checka pounces upon his hapless uncle. “Ooph!” Leona huffs, giving the boy a disapproving look. “Checka, where did you go?” you call out helplessly. “Unka Leona, are you sleepy?” the little cub asks Leona curiously. Leona rolls his eyes and looks at you with a look that reads, ‘rescue me.’ You rack your brain for another distraction.

Finally, even you must admit you’ve reached your limit and give up. “Hey kid, want to do something fun? Come here and I’ll teach you to fly.” The young lion bounds eagerly to his feet and runs to your side. You grip him by each underarm and toss him into the air. “Whooa!” you both yell. When he lands, he shouts “Again!” So you oblige him. Only this time, when he lands in your arms, you freeze him in time. “Herbivore, you are horrible.” Leona teases you. “Shush, you. Let’s get some rest in while we still can.”

Leona holds out an arm, inviting you to join him where he lays. You snuggle up and fall into an exhausted slumber. It lasted fifteen minutes, until your magic wore off. The best fifteen minutes of your day.

Jamil worked harder than anyone else you knew. Although you hadn’t officially gotten together after that magical night, you still somehow seemed to always be at his side. From that vantage, you’d been introduced to the grueling schedule that Jamil kept as both a student and servant to Kalim. You were fortunate that Scarabia had so many spare rooms. If not for the fact that you often slept over at the dorm, you might not see Jamil for days at a time.

The sun was barely risen when a sharp knock came at the door of your guest room suite. You mumbled to yourself before rolling over to look at the time. It was so early… A few minutes later, another knock sounds on your door. You know by this that Jamil has passed your room first to light the oven, getting it warm for breakfast, and again on his way to get Kalim out of bed. You’d like to stay and sleep longer but, with Jamil working so hard already, how could you?

A short time later, you are joined in the kitchen by Jamil. He gives you a warm smile in welcome and you both get to cooking. When you had first started cooking with Jamil, he barely trusted you to boil water but now, well, it’s not much but you’ve graduated to chopping veggies. When he has time, which is rare, he tries to help you improve your cooking skills. Each time you manage to master a new skill to his satisfaction, you earn a pat on the back and a small, “Well done.” The praise was more precious to you than jewels.

You finish off a carrot and slide the chopped offering down to Jamil, who adds it to a skillet of simmering spices and gravy. “What would you like next?” you ask him. “In a moment, Prefect. This part is tricky, so I need to concentrate.” Jamil answers. You don’t mind at all, enjoying the sight of Jamil skillfully flipping the contents of the skillet.

“Eeek!” came a cry from the lounge. You both recognized that voice, it was Kalim. You make eye contact and both simultaneously look at the sizzling skillet. “Go,” you say, “I’ve got this.” Jamil is starting to freak out, “I haven’t approved you to make rice yet, let alone this!” You roll your eyes at him and gesture, freezing the contents of the skillet mid-flip. “Ahhh,” Jamil mumbles, the beginnings of embarrassment showing on his face. You’d like to tease him more but there is still Kalim yelling in the lounge, so you suppose that can wait until this new disaster was dealt with. (It was a spider.)

Parties were so frequent an occasion in Scarabia that you’d rather become numb to them. You were helping Jamil set up for the latest party for…you weren’t even sure anymore. It may have been Riddle’s horse’s birthday or something. Anyway, you were hanging banners from the many railings of the balconies in the Scarabia lounge to prepare for the event.

Plus, you had a secret duty assigned by Jamil. From the corner of your eye, you kept Kalim in your sight. Since Jamil must be away at Basketball Club for the moment, he has entrusted you with keeping Kalim in order. This mostly amounts to stopping Kalim before he lets his wild ideas run away with him. Speaking of which, you notice Kalim is excitedly gesturing as he speaks to (honestly you don’t remember his name, you’ve been calling him Scarabia B in your head). An over-excited Kalim; that’s not a good sign.

“And elephants too!” you were just in time to hear. Oh no, this had gotten out of hand. You walk faster towards the pair but Kalim excitedly jumps up and runs off towards his treasure room. You quickly follow. “Kalim! Kalim! Where are you going?” you shout. “Ah, Prefect!” Kalim smiles at you widely, clutching a rolled-up carpet. “I’m going to take the magic carpet out to herd up some elephants for the party. Aha ha ha!” Before he can fly off, you grab onto the magic carpet with your magic, freezing it in place. “Hold it!” you shout. “We can’t bring elephants to the party or…it will scare the horses!” Kalim looks at you, his mouth going into a wide O. Then, just as fast, it shifts into a beaming grin. “Of course, why didn’t I think of that! I’m so glad we have you here to help with the party, Prefect! Aha ha ha!” Disaster averted.

Parties were fun but they were also exhausting, especially for Jamil. You followed him around, helping as best you could. Sweeping up, tearing down party decorations, putting leftover food away to repurpose for tomorrow’s lunch; anything to take a small portion of the burden off your hard-working beau. Finally, you had had enough.

“Jamil, you need to stop and rest. This can all wait until tomorrow,” you gently admonish him. He sets down the empty platter he is carrying and sighs. “Prefect, I wish your magic could freeze time for the whole world, so I’d finally be able to finish everything.” You consider this and respond, “Maybe my unique magic can’t do that but that’s not the only magic I have.” Jamil chuckles softly and gives you a look that says, ‘go on.’ You smile at him mischievously, “I’m like the fabled genie of the lamp, ready to grant your every wish. For your first wish, I’m sending you off to bed for some rest.” Then you drop the humor, “Even you need a break sometimes Jamil.”

With a final long-suffering sigh, Jamil relents and lets you walk with him toward his room and well-earned slumber. “You know, Prefect,” Jamil quietly states, “I believe the genie granted three wishes.” You pause under the gentle illumination of a lantern set in an alcove. “Why so he did,” you reply pensively. Then, stepping close to Jamil, you place a hand on his cheek before drawing him down into a kiss. His lips are warm against yours in the rapidly cooling night. When you part, you lay your other hand on his chest and lean into his comforting warmth. “I guess now you’ll just have to head to your room and think about what you want as your third wish.”

With one last gentle look, Jamil turns and continues alone to his room and rest. Truly though, he has no need to consider a third wish. What more could he desire when he already has you?

#twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #jamil viper

237 notes · View notes

bella-rose29 · 6 months

Text

Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader: reverse damsel in distress situation

I just thought this was funny so I made some head canons about it

I don't think there are any warnings? like a couple of vague references to stuff (like they're on a horse together 👀 and they go in a lake together 👀) and possibly a swear word or two??? but I can't remember

I wrote these while I was meant to be writing my essays and I'm not gonna go back and proof read

ok so

instead of the royal child locked in a tower that's guarded by a huge ass dragon being the princess, it's the prince

and the prince is Anthony lockwood

I know he would totally want to be a knight or train or something

but instead he gets kidnapped when a dragon (think Smaug sized) attacks the city

(we're gonna pretend that his family are all alive for this)

so lockwood gets carried off (he's like... 15? 16?)

put in the ruins of a castle in the middle of a thick and dangerous forest that takes like... a week to get to

and for the next three (ish) years parties are sent out to rescue him

none of them are successful

they are either killed by the dragon

or they get scared and run away

lockwood doesn't really mind living with the dragon

Lucy becomes a knight to try and save her friend and George is like a really well respected scholar or something (because lockwood was friends with him and made sure everybody appreciated George's talent for research) who researches dragons and how best to defeat them

lockwood does miss his family but he figures that he can go back any time he wants, and now he actually has some freedom for once in his life

it's a breath of fresh air (just like the air that's all around him because he lives in a forest now)

and the dragon is actually really nice

brings him food, makes fires to keep him warm, lets him practice his sword fighting on its hide (since it's basically impenetrable)

lockwood gets really good at sword fighting really quickly (of course he does)

and soon he's venturing out into the wilds to hunt for food or to discourage the hunting parties from coming to rescue him

also he just likes going for walks sometimes and there are nasty things living in those trees

but one day

not long after his 19th birthday

a single figure approaches the ruins

now the dragon starts gearing up for a fight (even though it's wondering if this is really a fair fight)

but when the singular knight starts bowing to the dragon and pandering to dragon pride

well

safe to say this knight won't be getting eaten today

lockwood of course ventures downstairs to see what's going on

and when he sees his terrible, fear-inducing dragon on its back having belly rubs from some random knight he almost faints in shock

"uh, who are you? And what are you doing with my dragon?"

the knight is surprised and pauses the belly rubs (the dragon lets out a huff)

"oh, I'm here to rescue you I think!"

then lockwood is surprised again because holy shit this knight is a woman

normally women in the army was rare since when lockwood was in the city the patriarchy was still in the progress of being abolished

but in the time he's been away the army has sorted itself out

(not that he knew that)

so he's all confused and frowny

and then he remembers to speak

"oh, well I'm quite happy here, thank you. Sorry for making you travel all this way, but I shan't be being rescued anytime soon."

he expects the knight to protest or something

instead she replies with:

"Alright then. Could I at least stay the night? I haven't slept properly for a while"

he agrees

the dragon is happy because the knight staying = more belly rubs

she goes out to hunt for dinner for the three of them and comes back an hour later with a lot of food

they spend the night talking about what's been happening in the city since lockwood hasn't been there for like, three years

turns out a lot has changed

like it was mentioned earlier, women are now in the army (and can train from a very young age like the men)

the city opened its borders and trade routes have been established between them and neighbouring cities

this means a lot more money has come into the city

and building programmes have started so that people have jobs and then housing

schooling is free

all good things

lockwood spends most of the time the knight (who has introduced herself as Y/n) is talking feeling as though he missed out and wanting to go home

he doesn't want to stay there, he just wants to catch up with everyone and let them know that he's fine

and could they please stop attacking his dragon thanks

omg and while the knight is getting ready for bed she takes her armour off (she has clothes on underneath don't you worry)

and lockwood doesn't realise but he's staring

because that armour is fitted but shapeless and he hasn't seen a woman for nearly three years (and he's a honey teenager let's face it)

and while he might not realise that he's looking

the dragon absolutely does

flicks him with its tail to get him to stop even though the dragon thinks that the whole situation is hilarious

because the dragon had also seen how lockwood had been looking at the knight while they were talking

and boy oh boy is he in trouble because he is definitely crushing on her

the next morning they're having breakfast:

(lockwood went out to get it because the others were still asleep)

and she's laughing at his jokes

and lockwood thinks oh shit I think I'm falling for her

and then he agrees to make the journey back to the city with her and she smiles and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen

(mostly he agrees to go back so that he can spend more time with her but shhh)

they hug the dragon goodbye (refuses to leave the hoard)

set out on the knight's horse

and omg they both get on and they're really close together because they don't entirely fit and-

lockwood is really struggling to concentrate he won't lie

so is she

anyway

they get back to the city and everybody is cheering because someone actually managed to defeat the dragon and bring the prince home???

and then she has to explain to his parents (after a very tearful reunion from all members of the family) that no, she didn't kill the dragon, she just told it that she'd never seen a dragon more impressive and gave it belly rubs

then lockwood has to break the news that he's not staying

and more crying ensues

the knight is kind of just... stood there awkwardly because these are her monarchs and she has no clue how to act right now

they invite her to dinner

she says yes (she didn't feel she could say no when lockwood turned to her with puppy dog eyes)

it's very loud

and more of a party than a dinner

lockwood spends a lot of time around George and Lucy (and Y/n totally isn't jealous of how gorgeous Lucy is and how lockwood looks at her like she's the sun that would be true ridiculous)

she's used to the noise of it all, she's a knight for god's sake

it's just been a long couple of weeks and she needs a break

so she heads out to the balcony for a breather

and is surprised to see the prince there because she thought he'd be in the middle of the celebrations

he gives her a small smile when she steps out

and she looks gorgeous against the glow of the room behind her and lockwood thinks he might be falling again

they talk for hours

literally until sunrise

everyone else has gone to sleep

they've moved from standing to sitting with their backs against the wall of the castle watching the sun come up over the horizon

there is absolutely no need for them to be sat as close as they are but-

and lockwood almost feels sad to be leaving again

but then he remembers how constricted he'd felt earlier when people were fussing over him and getting him ready for the party

and he thinks he's much better off living with his dragon in the forest

the journey back Y/n comes with him

she says it's to protect him

she knows he can fend for himself she just likes spending time with him promised his parents that she would (they hadn't asked her to)

they get ambushed on the way by bandits or something

they fight together like they've been doing it their whole lives

and when she pulls out two knives and throws them with perfect accuracy and without even looking and saves his ass, lockwood knows he's screwed

yep he's definitely fallen for her

the dragon knows What's Up when they get back because they're both giggling and stumbling over each other as they walk in

they stopped for a dip in a lake on the way and he totally didn't nearly faint when she started stripping

they didn't go far (just a lil kiss because they finally admit their feelings for each other) but the journey was quite long so they've had time to talk about how it's gonna work

she decides she'll move in with him

the dragon is happy because once again, the knight staying = more belly rubs

lockwood is happy because he's got the girl of his dreams

and they live in their ruins in the middle of a forest, occasionally travelling back to the city for birthdays and celebrations and such

the dragon gets a lot of belly rubs when it comes with them (which doesn't happen much because of the hoard)

George and Lucy travel to see lockwood a lot (and basically live with them now)

tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @briar-rose23, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @light-23, @locknco, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

#damsel in distress #except Anthony Lockwood is the damsel #and he's not in distress #(not physical distress anyway)#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader

51 notes · View notes

magistralucis · 5 months

Text

"For you, always." - Djoseras/Zultanekh (Necrontyr AU; R-15)

(Drabble for a prompt fill challenge, prompts available here.)

-------------

They unfastened their heavy outer robes and piled them up on a chair. Zultanekh was the first to retreat to bed, laying back with ease as he loosed his tunic and hitched it far up above his knees. "Now there's a memory from the earliest days of my training." He mused, and bid the kynazh regard an old scar upon his thigh. "Back then Zultanekh was not skilled with his hammer, nor with much else. A curious child but not an attentive one, or so his tutors might've described him, were they still alive. Glory upon their souls! They had a handful in Zultanekh."

Djoseras leaned down to examine. "May I ask what happened?"

"What was it, Djoseras? An accident with a khopesh. You see, my tutor at the time fought with a heavier and more ornate sword. This was on account of his being grown up, while I was but a stripling, but in my youthful folly I took this as a challenge."

The kynazh silently gestured in a bid to touch, and Zultanekh allowed it. His strong limbs and the light of the chamber gleamed a warm gold alike, and the scar stood out starkly upon his skin, long and pale and not half as faded as the years suggested. "The instant he was out of sight I picked up his sword, and would give it my all for a splendid swing; suffice to say this one did not have the best understanding of centrifugal forces at the time. The weight of it planted me straight onto the ground and upon the blade, and that, fair kynazh, is the story of how Zultanekh earned his warhammer. No one trusted me with anything else after that."

In the lamplight he saw how Djoseras smiled like the crescent moon. "I imagine Anathrosis was not best pleased."

"Oh, Anathrosis was furious. Rest assured that Zultanekh has more of his phaeron's faith nowadays. The hammer is our traditional weapon; I've been served well by it ever since, and have made up for my boyish indiscretions."

Djoseras nodded. "That is well, then."

That was all the kynazh had to say on the matter. He moved his hand away and made as if to back off. But the Crown Prince had other ideas. "What! No comfort from Djoseras?" He exclaimed; Djoseras raised his head, baffled, and Zultanekh gestured down at his scar pointedly. "Zultanekh's tale, his sincere honesty - in the bedchamber, of all places! All for nothing? I'll have you know it was a very painful wound."

The heir of Ithakas stared at him blankly. "Did you… want to be comforted?"

"What the - why - why would I not? Come, think about it for a moment."

Zultanekh's cheeks were flushed almost as red as his beard, and the inside of his head felt as if he were thinking through mud as he tried to explain what about Djoseras's reaction he found so inane. "Does Zultanekh's pain mean that little to you? He will request no pity, for he can hardly ask you to praise his wisdom where he showed none. But we all made mistakes when we were young, it's a universal constant - I'm sure young Oltyx has made some, if you have not, and I would hope you commiserated. Might we not commiserate? When we're already together, alone… intimate?"

His voice dropped softly at the final word. Surely, Zultanekh thought as he drew Djoseras into his arms, this is enough of a hint; he'd willingly bared his thigh, allowed another to touch him there, by royal standards of intimacy he was as good as naked. It was Djoseras who'd come to him that night, god forbid, surely it wasn't that much of a stretch to expect his affection. But Djoseras was not so easily moved. His smile was wry, his tone, maddeningly objective.

"Prince Zultanekh, your wound is long healed, and even as you spoke of it I saw your spirits were high. It seemed only logical to assume you were recovered. After all, it was a long time ago." His slender fingers played over the scar then, tracing it from top to bottom. Zultanekh tensed, first from shock, then a rapidly stiffening desire. "You are older than either Oltyx or I, but you were just a boy then, too. I might not even have been old enough to walk the year you were injured. And now we're all adults, why, you are almost twice the age of betrothal - too grown up, certainly, to jest for my mercy."

"And who kept Zultanekh waiting for that long, might he ask?" The Crown Prince demanded, green eyes darkened with longing. He was no stranger to playing at nonchalance, but he could never seem to temper himself around Djoseras, blast it all; it drove Zultanekh wild merely to sit with the kynazh, beholding that elegant form before him, those hair and eyes as dark as midnight. "Has he not been waiting for you, always? Ever since we first clashed at Heqahn, and vowed to meet again and again 'til vanquishment, had we not then sworn an oath to the other? Oh, you… you-"

He swept Djoseras into a fierce kiss. Then another, and another, scarce giving either of them room to breathe. For the first time that night he had Djoseras moved; a quiet noise escaped the kynazh as their lips drew apart, more breath than moan from a glistening mouth, and Zultanekh groaned in response. His hand found the dip of Djoseras's slender waist, pressed him right up close, the swirl of his inner robes cool against Zultanekh's skin.

For as long as he had known Djoseras he'd never seen the kynazh dressed in ornate colours. Mostly in whites and blacks, woven through occasionally with silver or gold or godsteel. His robes were always finely embroidered, but the shades were never mixed, as elegant and uncompromising as the rest of Djoseras combined. Zultanekh felt as if he might die of thirst as he imagined what lay under those robes, whether the kynazh was soft or angular, how good he might look stretched out in rapture upon those wine-dark sheets.

"Cruel, sweet prince, Zultanekh's beloved! Yours must be the coldest heart in Ithakas. I hope you don't think this one is so ungenerous: had you regaled me with a tale of your injury, no matter how minor or juvenile, I'd have spoken to you as many soothing words as you deserved." To think such a fair prince had come all this way, just to see Zultanekh - and to think that after all that effort this pillar of piousness, this familial, faithful creature was too rational to flirt, inflamed the Crown Prince like nothing else. "Warmed you with wine, or with mine own self, whatever would console you best. And here you are, asking: does Zultanekh want to be comforted? Oh, Djoseras! What are you like!"

At that Djoseras finally burst into laughter. It was rare for the heir of Ithakas to laugh out loud for any reason, but here he was amused, and thankfully sincere. "I hadn't realized you felt so strongly about it." He remarked, then shifted about to settle politely upon Zultanekh's lap. His arms were cool and bare about the Crown Prince's neck. "Be warned, Zultanekh, that I am unattuned to such softness. Unnas always considered it a weakness from his scions, and we of Ithakas are seldom indulged, even while we are young. Yet I am charmed by your attachment - truthfully, it is what I like most about you, that you are unafraid to feel. I've only ever known my brother to be like that."

He offered his hand. Zultanekh kissed it, gladly. "I will esteem to be more mindful in the future. I may be awkward for a time - but for you, Crown Prince, I will try my best."

"Thank you. It is good of you to indulge Zultanekh; he was a rather sensitive child."

Djoseras's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Oh, I've never doubted you were childish. I merely hope to make an obedient boy out of you sometime."

"Now that's more like it," breathed Zultanekh. He laid upon Djoseras a kiss so deep that the kynazh of Ithakas fell to sighing, his eyes faint with pleasure; Zultanekh moved to the side, laying Djoseras down properly onto the bed, then made to remove his own tunic altogether. "That is well, kynazh, but Zultanekh warrants he has far more to teach you about pleasure. Come, lend him a hand - take yours off too, if you please - and we shall review where else fair Djoseras has wounded him, so that he might be granted his comforts, and return it to you a thousandfold."

---------------

(Note: This was an anon request and came without fandom or pairings attached, so I've taken the liberty to be self-indulgent 😘 I'm intending this to be part of a longer (NSFW) piece, of an AU where biotransference isn't a concern and Djoseras and Zultanekh had a lot more time to enjoy the peace between their dynasties. Indulge an official courtship, fall in love. Kind of like the necrontyr parts of we live on archipelagos concentrated to triple strength. Here Djoseras has surprised Zultanekh by slipping into the other's room at night - as one would expect of a courtly love scene - and then immediately dropped the ball by being too logical about flirtations. 🤣 Oh, they have a long way to go...)

#warhammer 40k #wh40k #the twice dead king #djoseras #zultanekh #prompt fill #drabble #necrons #necron #ah... how could i possibly leave out my chosen necron rarepair otp... those princes drive me insane they're everything i want #it's so fun writing zultanekh. he is so life-affirmative and just about any situation works with him as long as it warrants his confidence #he can be utterly serious and mentor-like; he can be boldly flirtatious; whatever it may be he'll be Forever In The Moment doing it #this is the one dude who'll always find a way to have a good time... i love him #returning to orizyn for the next wh40k drabble

25 notes · View notes

retrieve-the-kraken · 6 months

Text

Okay, I just finished watching Sex Education, and I will be honest, I was very… underwhelmed.

I know this show means a lot to a lot of people, and I can see why, and I liked parts of it, but to me it started out very strong and ended so disappointingly.

I was captivated by the struggles of some of the characters, by how their stories were weaved into one another, but that’s easier to do when you have a handful of characters. By season 3, there were so many characters, and the creators seemingly insisted on developing each individual storyline as profoundly as possible, but that just resulted in stories being presented and resolved in a rush, sometimes inexplicably, and it all felt just very clunky. I tried to suspend my disbelief of how time passed in this universe, how one storyline seems to be moving slower than another in the span of the same day, but it became so glaringly obvious that it came down to shoddy editing, and too many loose ends to trie to tie up.

By season 4, I didn’t have enough time to connect with anyone new, didn’t feel like any of the new characters was actually given enough time and space to unfold properly. It was just jam-packed with tropes and themes and difficult topics that deserved much better development. Like Cal’s dysphoria, or Viv’s abusive relationship, or Isaac’s and Aisha’s disabilities, or O’s asexuality, or even Jean and Joanna’s difficult relationship and Jean’s postpartum depression (in fact, I feel like Jean really got done dirty this season, because she was an interesting character the whole way, and she went through a lot, she almost died, she’s going through massive heartbreak, and those things are never addressed again except that one little moment, and Otis is THE ABSOLUTE WORST to her in this season…)

And that did not happen, of course, to the characters from the first two seasons, they got to be fully developed and nuanced and you get to examine their whole stories and they make sense. You get to see Aimee deal and come to terms and put behind her the sexual assault, you get to see Maeve get out and then have massive doubts about her talent and see her dreams interrupted once more by her mother’s overdose and her brother going down the same path; you get to see Eric come fully into his own skin with his sexuality and struggle with the fact that he might have to choose between that and his community; you get to see Adam go from bully to realizing his sexuality to realizing what has made him into a bully to trying to change and be honest to himself and others; you get to see why Ruby is the way she is but also that it’s all just a front and why it’s hard for her to not put up walls.

It felt like, by season 3, the creators were just ticking boxes: non-binary character, check; trans characters, check; characters with disabilities, check; boy with two mums inexplicably wanting to find their biological father, check… It felt a little like (and I swear this comparison hurts me the most) watching Glee.

(Remember Glee? Most people would say ‘well Glee walked so that Sex Education and Heartstopper and Young Royals, etc could run’… No, unfortunately it feels more like Glee took two steps and then stumbled horrible so that these other shows could run. And sadly, in my opinion, Sex Education didn’t fair much better…).

It made me sad to learn about how LGBTQIA+ activist and ace representative Yasmin Benoit collaborated with the Sex Education creators to create a character that was a well-rounded representation of the asexual community, but in the end they turned her into the season’s villain and for no good reason. I understand people’s frustration with that, especially Yasmin’s, because it felt like it could have been handled much better. And as an acespec person myself I would have been more upset about this too, were it not for the fact that everything else was so bad in comparison that O being turned into a villain felt like the least of this season’s problems.

Something else that bothered me was that, whilst Sex Education is a satire and a lot of the characters are caricatures (like Ruby being the popular glamorous bitch with her two cronies who do everything she says, and Aimee is the bimbo with the heart of gold, and Mr Groff is the stuffy narrow-minded professor, and Lily is the unashamed weird girl, etc), there is a fine line between caricature and cartoon, and some of the characters went too far. Like Hope in season 3 was too much of a cartoon villain, and Molloy being the admirable but former literature sensation who is brutally harsh with his students; and Beau going from flirty to abusive in .5 seconds; and Joanna being the over-the-top disaster person. There is no further substance to these people, they are just there to fulfill a role as a foe to one of the main characters, but the lack of realism makes them very underwhelming, and all the plots associated with them become predictable and boring…

And this might be a very unpopular opinion but… at first the whole Otis and Maeve thing, although clichéd, seemed like a nice idea, but the more time passed, and especially with the way that Otis became in the last season, by the end of it I really didn’t like it at all. It felt like Maeve deserved a lot better.

Otis was a somewhat interesting character in the beginning, and I could sympathize with him for all his flaws and the way that he tried to help people but ultimately couldn’t deal with his own shit. But it was so frustrating to see him making the same mistakes over and over, to the point where it affected his relationship with everyone important, from his mum to his best friend to his girlfriend.

Not that the show had to be perfect. No show is perfect, but it truly felt like the creators had a really good idea but didn’t figure out how to wrap it up, and promptly cornered themselves and then were fighting their way out of that corner…

My favorite things about the show, though, were:

-Anything with Eric (except maybe that whole thing about him and his bully becoming a thing, because that was disturbing, but I really really liked when Otis brought this up, and I really really hated when Eric got defensive about it, and I also reaaaaally hated when Eric got mad at Adam for not wanting to have anal sex, like he didn’t even want to talk about it, you’re better than that, Eric Effiong).

-Despite this, Adam and Eric not having a happy ending together was a breath of fresh air, because as much as they were cute together (I just reaaaaally wish Adam hadn’t been the former bully) they weren’t right for each other.

-Aimee’s whole journey from being with Adam to being with Steve, to ditching the Untouchables for a meaningful friendship with Maeve, to exploring what she wanted to do, to coming to terms with her assault, to discovering art as a way to express herself. She really is one of my favorite characters.

-Colin and Ms Sands were my absolute favorites too, and them coming back for one episode, and Colin playing With Or Without You at the funeral. And Ms Sands always wanting Maeve to fulfill her potential, and trying to help Adam and even coming to see him in the dog show.

-Any moment when Eric is just fabulous, especially wearing that kilt at the queer night club. Ncuti Gatwa is truly one of the most beautiful men in this world, and he just can’t help but sparkle. He is the sparkly one.

-And as I said before, Adam’s poem to Eric, absolutely broke my heart.

-I loved the set design and costume design on the show, it was so unexpected for everything to feel so old-fashioned, and I wonder if there’s a meaning to that. Also, Jean and Otis’s house is my absolute dream house. I do wonder however what happened to all the penis and vagina decoration.

-I really liked the variety of characters and how we got a diversity of storylines and tackled a lot of important topics, but I just wished they had done a better job at it.

That’s about it. This turned out way longer than I expected. But I’d been putting off watching this show for so long, despite how relevant it became, and was really disappointed that I didn’t like it as much, so I had to vent.

#sex education #sex education netflix

24 notes · View notes

leafkingofbirds · 2 months

Text

Next chapter Preview: Eclipse Edition!

In honor of the total solar eclipse today, have this snippet I just finished writing! 😄

**this is still a first draft and you may find typos. But I am open to feedback & suggestions! 🥰

***

Somehow, Kieran winds up at the base of Sir Monty’s favorite tree. On his knees, his heart pounding, staring blankly at the dirt but seeing nothing. Too lost in his own mind and the troubles of his soul.

Give me peace, he begs whatever unseen force rules over life and death. Give me clarity. I must be everything Ella needs me to be.

But there is no divine intervention. Only himself, alone. As it has always been, since the death of his mother.

He would have sought his mother's grave, but the royal mausoleum is buried beneath the rubble of the destroyed Full Moon Chamber.

Instead he has come to Sir Monty’s. The last parental figure he would ever have.

His oldest friend is gone to the tyrant’s side. Whether Oleander has betrayed Kieran or has some plan up their sleeve doesn’t matter. Oleander isn’t here to give any of their sage advice.

Dear Longclaw has her own heavy grief. Even her big heart is weighed down with the loss of not only the last of her beloved family – as abhorrent as Radiance was – but the loss of her own sense of self. It wouldn’t be fair to ask for her help, even if she was currently capable of giving it.

Ella would try to be there for him. But to go to her would be worse than dealing with it alone. Her heartless state is but more evidence of his failure and his guilt.

“Mother,” Kieran gasps aloud without meaning to. A deep-set plea to a woman he had not set eyes upon since he was almost too young to remember and who will never answer his cries again.

The word only opens the wound inside him, digging deeper, ripping open old wounds until they bled anew. His mother is the reason for all of this. Jack is the reason.

As if called by Kieran's very thoughts, he hears soft footsteps in the grass cautiously approach behind him.

“So this is where you ran off to,” Jack muses. His voice is subdued. A hush has fallen over the entire place in the wake of the battle, an aura of death and defeat.

“Leave me,” Kieran growls without turning around.

Instead, the footsteps only come closer. To Kieran's shock and irritation, Jack kneels before the small square of stone at the base of the old, broken oak.

A stone marker had been installed at the base of the tree. Oleander had quietly decided upon the wordering and installed it themselves, after Kieran had irritably snapped at them “I don’t give a damn; do it yourself!”

It was not enough to describe all that Sir Montgomery was in life, but then, no headstone would ever be able to capture the entirety of a man’s soul.

Here Rests the Most Honorable

Sir Montgomery Snow

Who Gave His Mortal Life

In Service to the Moon Court

For a long moment, Jack gazes at the headstone in silence, his expression intense and unreadable. He looks almost angry.

Kieran braces himself to hear Jack say something vicious, and knows he won't be able to hold himself back this time if Jack speaks disrespectfully about Sir Monty before his very grave.

Then, Jack sighs deeply, hands on his thighs, and hangs his head. Kieran peers at him curiously.

“We have both suffered the loss of the most important people in our lives,” Jack says finally. He glances up at Kieran ruefully, his expression for once vulnerable and sincere. “Haven't we?”

Kieran can only glare at him.

Jack looks back toward Monty’s headstone. “I want to say I regret what I've taken from you. But the truth is, if I had not killed Monty, he would have killed me. And I can't apologize for not allowing that to happen. Not honestly. Because I was not just fighting this battle for myself, and I owed it to those people in there that I would let nothing and no one stand in my way. No matter how noble.”

There's a silence where Kieran considers leaping at him at closing his hands over Jack’s throat. But there isn't enough energy in him now. What would be the point?

“But I regret the pain I have caused,” Jack says, in a way that makes Kieran think he's never apologized before in his life and it's physically painful for him. “I know that's foolish. I can't wish the past undone and know I would have changed nothing, all at the same time.”

“You wish it hadn't come to this,” Kieran manages to say, surprised at how rough his voice sounds, how close to tears. He can't even look at Jack.

“Yes.”

Kieran scoffs. “So do I.”

Not that it mattered what any of them wished. Wishes are futile things, even for Fae.

“Nothing I can say will undo the damage I've done. Believe me, I'm well aware,” Jack says bitterly. “But I want to say this anyway: I was wrong about you. I was wrong about so many things that it makes my blood boil to look back on it. About Sir Montgomery and Eisa. About the right way to fight for equality in this realm.”

“You were wrong about Ella,” Kieran reminds him snappishly.

Jack has the gall to look surprised. Then embarrassed. “I…yes.”

Kieran raises his brow expectantly, demanding a better answer than that.

Jack sighs explosively and runs a hand through his hair. “I thought her addled at best, foolishly naive at worst. I thought you were like every other Fae I had ever had the misfortune of meeting, who had dazzled and enthralled an unwitting human into doing your bidding. But…you truly love her, don’t you?”

“With all that I am.” Kieran feels his hands clench into fists. “Ella has the most pure and genuine heart for others I’ve ever known a mortal to have. And a stubborn, inner strength that has never ceased to impress me. She is braver than any Fae I have ever met. That you misjudged her angers me even more than being misjudged. And that she is in my palace right now, heartless, where she should have been safe, angers me more than anything else.”

“You feel like you failed her.” It’s a statement, not a question. Jack gazes at him evenly.

“I did fail her,” Kieran snaps. “She felt she had no choice but to use the Immortality Curse, because this realm is so dangerous for mortals. I didn’t do enough to ensure she felt safe among Fae. I wasn’t able to break her curse, despite my promise that my love would be strong enough to save her. And yes, I ignored the threat of your Eclipse and the suffering you endured, as generations of Moon Court heirs have done before me. I own that mistake as wholly mine. But, Jack - it was your arrogance and prejudice didn’t want to believe Fae lives were in any way worth sparing. You came to kill us without knowing us. Without giving us even a chance.”

Jack’s brow wrinkles. “To be fair, that is exactly how mortals have been treated by Fae for the entirety of history.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

Jack looks contrite. “No. It doesn’t.”

“I'm glad we can agree on something,” Kieran mutters.

“Perhaps that's why I was too late to save my father,” Jack muses quietly, as if to himself. “His innocent life, spent in payment for my sins. I live now only because you demand it, Kieran - else I would fall on that damned sword as penance. And I will do what I can to help fix this. But some things I can't fix. And for that…I truly am sorry.”

Kieran's eyes fill with tears, hot and angry. He can feel Jack’s gaze on him, and doesn't meet it. His emotions war in such a furious swirling tempest he can't keep track of any of them - he doesn't even try to name them.

What strikes him, though, is how much of Jack's words mirror Kieran's own internal guilt.

An innocent life paid the price of my arrogance.

I would fall on my sword for my failure.

Some things I can't fix.

Kieran senses himself at a fork in the road. He can do what his old self would have done - the bitter, broken, cold version that used viciousness to isolate himself and wallowed in his own misery - and rebuff Jack’s attempt to repent. Jack would live, but they would be forever strangers. Forever estranged.

Or he can be the man Ella always believed him to be. The man Kieran strives to live up to.

Kieran lets out a long sigh. “I can’t forgive you, Jack. Not yet. But I accept your apology. I believe it’s sincerely offered.”

“If nothing else, know that I am a man who means what he says.” Jack’s level gaze doesn’t waver. He shows no sign of discomfort from kneeling so long in the dirt, even though the gashes Kieran had delt to his flank are barely scabbed over. Up close, Kieran can see the disciplined way Jack holds himself. The quiet confidence of a true warrior. This has been his life's sole purpose, and Kieran realizes, just now, how broken Jack must also feel.

“We are two of a kind that way,” Kieran answers quietly.

Jack huffs a short laugh, then grows serious again. “Kieran…for what it’s worth? I’m sorry for what happened to Ella. I hope, one day, she will be restored. And on that day, I will ask her forgiveness as well.” Jack climbs to his feet and idly brushes off his knees. “I think my chances will be better if I wait until then.”

The harsh bark of a laugh that escapes Kieran's throat just then doesn't slow Jack's steps, and soon Kieran is alone again beneath this silent, doomed tree.

His laugh turns into a sob.

His hands claw the grass and hard-packed earth as if he could tear it away. Rip open the grave beneath his feet and demand it all to be different, for fate to change according to his will, for the chance to go back in time and undo his mistakes, to unravel all the terrible things that have happened.

But he’s powerless now, and his hands can no more open a hole to bury himself than they could bring back the dead.

Kieran puts his forehead to the earth in defeat, and lets himself weep like he has not done in a hundred years.

11 notes · View notes

darlinggeorgiedear · 6 months

Note

How come tsar Nicholas II, George VI etc have rabid fans, but George V doesn't?? Do you think if George V have died young, he would have been more appreciated, or even less appreciated than he already is?

Hi! I’d argue Nicholas has more haters than he does lovers. I don’t think his position is covetable.

Nicholas is more significant than George because he was the LAST Tsar. His rule was what gave way to the Soviet Union. It’s very tragic and significant. This doesn’t make George less, it’s really “apple and oranges” if anyone knows that saying.

George vi was the WWII king, which means there is a sizable population who were alive while he was king, that just started to die off, so he is more relevant and remembered in that way. He also has a really good Oscar winning film made about him.

I think George V is overall looked at as a good king, if you ignore the British tabloids who enjoy printing untrue rumors about the Royal family members for clicks.

George was very popular and beloved during his reign, he wouldn’t have changed a thing in my opinion. And is just as remembered and loved as his dad, Edward Vii, or any other popular male British king.

I wanted to add more of my thoughts, since I don't think I did a very good job explaining myself. I did create this blog because I thought George was under represented on Tumblr, and knew if many knew more about him, they would love him!

I do think George has bad press. Most tabloid articles or documentaries are painful to read or watch. My point is majority of prominent British royal family member have bad press (besides mostly the late Queen, Kate, and Diana (but Diana had bad press before she died) so it not really about George. The Queen Mother was very very popular, yet if you google her, it gets really ugly. She does have overly positive documentaries, but there are many unfair articles that paint her as almost demonic. George VI is spared from salacious gossip but I think it's because he really didn't have a drama bone in his body so any story about him would be boring, and sadly journalism today is about clicks and money.

I also agree with one of the comments saying how George did so many great thing but isn't remembered as such. It's a shame that many can't name George's accomplishments, but majority of the world remembers Queen Victoria as a widow, instead of her significant influence in the UK during the Victorian era, which was basically a second Tudor era. We just live in a world where people want silly stories.

I do know George and Nicholas are compared, but it is really SO unfair and silly. They had completely different positions. I think some people love Nicolas hard, because he is hated hard. There are people who think George was a bad father and had a temper, but with Nicholas, people blame him for much much worse. I've written this before but I think it is more interesting journalism today to write something nice about Nicholas since he had such a bad reputation. And with the same mindset, it is newsworthy to write something negative about George, since he was seen as a such a great king and family man.

Basically, anon, I just think you're too hard on George. He is very popular and loved. I do wish George could have a good movie, or even a good and fair documentary (no "royal experts" please.) There was a good documentary about George on YouTube a while ago that was amazing, but it vanished. I think it was a bbc documentary.

There really are so many mistruths about the British Royal Family that are stated by the media as facts. It’s actually really sad because these lies are usually concerning really low moments in the royal family’s lives. Almost like they thrive on the pain of others…

#george v #king george v #british royal family #brf

21 notes · View notes

daisybell17 · 9 months

Text

Falling for the Joutun boy

Prologue: Instead of the government system Midgard uses in our world, this version of our world falls under a royal family that governs over all the nations.

That being said, you were a princess of this family which meant thousands of people adored you, and several princes definitely had their eye on you as you aged.

Though your eye was on one Joutun boy. Your family has made a deal with the kingdom of Joutunheim that would end the thousand year war and unite both realms, and that’s where you met Loki. You were both only about 4 years of age when you both met and oh how you enjoyed his presence. The games you both played and the stories and jokes you would tell each other, it was nothing but pure happiness and awe.

Even as a young princess you had your eye on him, and as he possessed the power of ice, he often start snowball fights with you and build ice castles. Oh the more and more did you enjoyed his company…Until Asgard raged war against Joutunheim…Many of Joutunheim’s people were either captured or perished, and all that remained, retreated to earth…

Unfortunately Loki was one of the captured, and you hadn’t seen him since…until today?

Invited to an Asgardian ball, your family had decided to go. They knew your hatred of the Asgardian royal family after they destroyed Joutunheim but nevertheless, you had to go for formality reasons.

Arriving at Asgard, you felt a wave of anxiety flush over your body…as if being here felt wrong. Don’t get me wrong, Asgard was beautiful without a doubt…it was the royalty of that land you had your problems with.

Showing up to the palace, your family name was announced and you made your way in…and holy hell was it an amazingly beautiful palace…what? no?! How could you think this was beautiful?! These people destroyed homes…

You made your way to the assigned seat and watched as each royal family poured in…

”Unfortunately Family Laufeyson will not be making their appearance tonight”

“Well no shit?!” You thought, “They destroyed Joutunheim and had the gall to announce something like that?! Ignorant assholes?!”

As the night went on you failed to enjoy yourself. Watching everyone interact and share lively conversations made you feel left out, well to be fair you didn’t not want to be there in the first place but you still wanted to talk with people

A loud trumpet echoed the halls which signaled the introduction of Odin, Frigga and their children

“I present King Odin and Queen Frigga of Asgard.” They both walked into the great hall hand in hand with smiles plastered on their faces

You rolled your eyes in your head, not really paying attention to what was happening

“I present Thor Odinson, first born son and prince Asgard. And Loki Odinson, second born son and prince of Asgard.

“hUH WHAT?!” Your head snapped at the announcement of Loki’s name, almost chocking on your own saliva.

Looking down you see Loki…it’s actually him?! But wait, Odinson?! You couldn’t take your eyes of the prince. It’s been nearly 15 years since you last saw him…and admittedly you found yourself turning red, he’s definitely grown into a fine young man.

Watching him walk across, you turned to your parents who seemed to be just as shocked as you. “Prince Loki…As in…Loki Laufeyson?” Your mother said. “I…how is this even possible mother?” No one really had a response, how do you even…explain this?!

You waited with little patience as the formal announcements ended and the ball continued. Your eyes were fixed on Loki who seemed…anxious? nervous? You couldn’t tell, but he was clearly uncomfortable.

You made your way down and to Loki as fast as you could…Tapping him on his back, he turned around as you captured his attention. “Oh…Hi! Uh can I help you princess?”

“You’re Loki…Odinson…right?”

“Why yes I am! Might I say princess you look fine tonight”

You blush at his words and reciprocate the compliment back to him. Since you knew Loki quite well from childhood, you brought up topics of interest. It would be crazy of you to suddenly ask personal questions, or worse, let him find out who he was and his truth within seconds.

Safe to say he was immediately entranced by you, as if he knew you all his life. No one ever showed much interest in him growing up, often he was pushed aside by Odin. Frigga and Thor loved him dearly but even with that love, he could still feel that separation, always knowing he was different.

As your shared conversation with food and drinks continued on, he invited you to go out to the garden. It was quite loud inside and a nice late night chat by the beautiful flowers seemed perfect.

Leading you outside, you both sat by the bench, watching the starts and moon

“You know, I didn’t expect to enjoy this ball at all, then you came up and talked to me…” He flashed a small smile at you, causing a small blush to form around your cheeks

“Well I have to thank you too…This is definitely not how I expected this night to go at all…I didn’t even want to go at first but my mother kinda forced me out” You chuckled, remembering just how pissed off you were hours ago.

“Oh? Are you not a fan of balls?” He questions, raising his eyebrows.

“haha balls” Your mind quickly diverts to. Quickly shoving your humour away you answer back “Erm, not that i’m not a fan of royal balls…I like the dresses and food…but if I had the choice not to attend, I probably wouldn’t”

“Hmmm me too I guess…I show up here for formality and because im the “great prince of Asgard!”” He air quotes sarcastically. “As if i’m even treated like a god…let alone a person here” He scoffs

“What do you mean? Are people hurting you?”

“I guess you could put it like that…” looking away from you, it’s obvious this topic makes him uncomfortable

“Hey we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to”

“No no…I want to…I don’t get to tell my story to many people…”

The conversation pauses for a second as the night sounds settle in. Loki is looking at the ground, it seems like he’s gathering his thoughts of what to say.

“Growing up I…I was just never treated as equal…or even as a person…Yes my mother was always there and Thor…well was Thor. I know he loves me dearly and I think the world of him…It’s just…Odin and everyone else on Asgard. I was just…never enough in anyone’s eyes…even my own. There’s always just something different about me…I just never really knew what it was…”

You didn’t say anything and let the silence of the night take over…”I figured out I wasn’t straight a long time ago…but even then something never really clicked…Like something from my youth was missing, or gone, or never existed..I-I’m sorry I know I’m making no sense right now” He says as some tears start coming in

“Hey hey…” You say…Should you tell him? Let the secret out? But how could you do it? No not yet…

“Hey” You offer your hand for him to hold. Looking at your gesture he grasped you firmly.

You take a deep breath and worked something up “Hey…look…we spend our lives in search for something, anything that would make sense and even then we sometimes don’t find it…And I-what the”

Suddenly your hands start to glow. The light coming from you and Loki’s hands entranced you. Snapping your head up you met with Loki’s eyes…and he was finally the Loki you first knew

“Y-You…I-I know you” Loki said. “I know me…I…” He looked at himself as his entire body shifted…Shifting back to his true form. Eyes going wide as his skin turns blue, it’s a beautiful sight in your eyes.

Then you pulled away and it all stopped. Stepping back you were met face to face with the Joutun boy you fell for. “Loki…are you…are you ok?”

He didn’t speak…He couldn’t take his eyes off his hands…that’s when the tears started falling and his knees met the ground. His head peeked up, and a smile plastered his face.

“The Midgardian princess who saved my land…The girl who spent a part of my youth with…Oh the games we played and the stories we told and the snowballs fight we shared…I know you…”

“Oh Loki…” You started tearing up… “Do you remember now?”

“I do…and I was right…and oh I love you…”

“What?!” You said laughing “W-What do you me-“

“You really didn’t think I had my eye on you since we were kids? Oh you were the prettiest girl i’ve ever met…and you played with me?! You touched my heart from day one” Loki said now holding your hand

Your heart was starting to melt, he noticed you just as much as you noticed him. “Oh Loki!” You hugged him close “You remember! You know me…you know…you!”

“I do…oh gods I do!” He hugged you close…”There is still…too much to figure out and what to do…You promise you aren’t terrified…I’ve heard the stories of Joutun’s…and now that I know everything…I don’t know how to feel..?”

“Loki…Oh my prince…The color that paint your skin is one that I adore. Your eyes of red shine bright into my soul. The cold touch is freezing for sure, but my warmth match and I promise…I promise…I find peace within you and in that peace…I love you. I love you my Joutun boy…”

He smiles and held you close…He might have his memory back for now, but the road to acceptance and love for himself and you is yet to blossom to its fullest. But in this moment…he smiles knowing that someone fell for him…for who he really was…For Loki.

45 notes · View notes