#two guards and a lord walk into a bar? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nottoofondofgaypeople · 4 months

Text

The Most Important Polycule

The one that started it all. Irena is a poor girl who has run from everywhere she's known. All that she knows about people and how to be one is from watching, and she's usually content to just bounce around wherever she does, until she lands in Phoenix Drop, a village so down on their luck she can't help but want to help them.

She doesn't officially take the lord position for quite some time, but she starts using her strange random skills she learned from drifters and wanderers to help these people. This naturally brings her to Garroth, the former head guard, who's keen on keeping her safe because she's just a very kind person. Garroth quietly thinks she'd make a good lord, but he never wants to push her to that.

Laurance is introduced in almost the exact same way. I mean it. The full head of hair, obnoxiously green eyes, the so called Cassanova of Meteli. The most flagrantly bisexual man. Laurance is the first person to show outright and very direct interest in Irena, which she's never experienced. Most people are very subtle about it, or don't express it at all because she's well. She's kind of weird. And doesn't always get what they're saying. She's actually just autistic and doesn't know how love works because nobody's explained it in a way that makes sense to her. And Laurance doesn't quite get what her vibe is but she's really fucking pretty, and also not afraid to give him a piece of her mind but in a light hearted way.

A lot of Irena's early interactions have her express herself in rather comedic ways, like she's super witty, because most of the people she learned from were bards and con men. She can be off-putting to some, but to Laurance? A girl who he can say romantics to and she'll respond with some cheeky retort that isn't an outright rejection? And she's beautiful and could maybe beat you in a fight?? Irena is the girl of Laurance's dreams.

And Laurance is always a fiercely dedicated person. He's known Irena for three weeks, and yet he'll still go into the pits of hell by her side. Laurance has read so many romantic poems and stories, I imagine that ancient Greek literature still exists in this universe, and he's read the tragedies of men who thought they could walk through hell and back safe and sound. He knows that Orpheus always turns around to see if Eurydice is there, but he's confident that they won't have to do that. He's confident he'll walk out of hell hand in hand with her.

No, what happens to them is worse. We all know the story. In order to save the life of one of his closest friends and the life of one of the most mystifying people he's ever rapidly fallen in love with, Laurance actively and willingly sacrifices himself. Irena returns to Phoenix Drop days later and when she finds Garroth at the guard station, she just collapses into his arms and begins weeping.

He's caught her crying before, but never like this. She's never completely fallen apart. He doesn't even know what happened, and she's too wracked with guilt to say anything at first. She knows how Laurance felt. She doesn't know what love is exactly supposed to be, but she knows what it looks like. She's seen people fall in love by staring at one another from across a fire pit. She could tell on day two that Laurance was falling hard and fast, and she was honestly scared the same might be happening.

Now she can't even bring herself to admit it out loud because he's gone, and in her eyes, it's her fault. Oddly enough, once she's able to admit some of what happened, omitting certain details about the nature of her and Laurance's relationship, Garroth is actually able to empathize with her. He isn't very direct at the time, but he gives her advice on how to use her grief as a motivator. Laurance sacrificed himself for her sake, and he would want her to keep moving forward.

Content Warning (y'all knew this was coming): Torture

What ends up being a brief period of time without Laurance, only about two months or so for the Overworld, is far far longer in the Nether. Laurance was planning on dying a warriors death, but after he suffered a nearly killing blow, he was kept alive, and dragged back to The Shadow King's castle. The Shadow King is only a phantom at this point, a pitiful version of his former self. But conscious enough to give orders, and to allow Gene to do what he wanted with this Shadow Knight. Let him prove himself.

So Laurance gets tortured. A lot. And is forced to become a shadow knight without dying. Which the Shadow King didn't even think was possible?? How tf did he fuckin do that, fuckin wizard. The entire process is unbearably painful, and Laurance's only solace are memories of Irena, some other prisoner he gets to talk to on the other side of the cell wall, and oddly enough, memories of a guard he hadn't seen in... years. At his lowest moments, Laurance wishes he could see Garroth, wonders where he is, what's happening in his life, if he managed to get the head guard position he rightfully deserved in some thriving village.

It's the last persons name he starts crying that finally breaks him. Laurance starts thinking about his family, about everyone he's lost, everyone he's going to lose is he dies here, and everyone he might lose if he somehow makes it out alive. The existence of shadow knights is contradictory by nature, and it's starting to break Laurance down. He starts to lose his sense of self. It's only when he weeps at the memory of a young boy finding a wounded wyvern in the woods that something finally happens.

Within seconds the wall is broken into, Laurance gets grabbed, and he's suddenly flying through the Nether in his best friends mouth. And going through the open rift between realms? One that was forcibly opened with the life essence of an immortal under dire circumstances? Laurance was not pretty when Irena and Garroth found him. He was malnourished, a little too pale, so many scars, his hair was all fucked up, and when they first found him, he just wasn't breathing.

Eventually Zoey is able to get his condition stable, but Irena refuses to leave his side until he wakes up. Laurance is out for a few days, and she's dedicated to being there when he wakes up. He has to. If he dies, then both his death and Ungrith's are her fault, and she can't let it end like that. He has to wake up. He has to.

When Laurance finally wakes up, he only notices he's blind because he can hear Irena's voice but can't see her face. But he can feel her hand in his. She's alive. His sacrifice wasn't meaningless because she's still alive. This is the point that we really get the ball rolling, and the point that I take the canon story out to the back alley to be violently beaten to death.

When Laurance desperately confesses his love to Irena, she remains quiet. She listens, and only when his breathing starts to even and the panic has subsided a little does she simply mutter the words "I missed you too Laurance."

"Would you say you loved me?" She has to think for a minute. Lots of people have tried to quantify love to her, explain how it feels or what it looks like, and despite best attempts, Irena still struggled with the concept. But when she sees Laurance's beaten form nearly crying, iron grip on her hand, and the weariest smile on his face, she sort of just gets it. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world that she loved him from the first back and forth they had while walking to Castor's house. Suddenly she can see the appeal of spending all her time around another person.

"I suppose I do."

As for Garroth falling for Laurance, I've covered this on my main blog twice before so I'll simplify it here. Laurance has repeated nightmares/night terror related to his experience in the Nether, and when Garroth is comforting him after one, he realizes this fool of a guard he met in the academy all that time ago is still taking up so much space in his mind.

He realizes it's love, and starts freaking the fuck out because Garroth?? Loves two people?? And one of them is a man???? What the fuck is going on??? Unlike my previous musings, there's a lot more time dedicated to this. Laurance's recovery is slow, and while Zane does interrupt this time, when he's gone there's even more time for Garroth, Irena, and Laurance to all just sit with these emotions.

(Trust me I have a lot to say about how I'm handling Zane and what he does to the story in this rewrite, but that is an essays worth of a post unto itself)

Maybe talk about them with their loved ones. Obviously Garroth doesn't talk to anybody at first, but Irena might go to Zoey. Tell her how she's feeling and Zoey has a faint ache in her heart because she still can't bring herself to admit she feels that way about Irena. Laurance talks to Cadenza about how happy Irena makes him, and how much he wants to share that with Garroth. She nearly whacks him over the head and tells him to just fess up to them already, stop talking to her about it when he clearly understands how he feels. Laurance always does, he's just got a lot of room for improvement in communicating it.

And one day when they all manage to have a day off, Laurance sits the two of them down at the docks and the three of them just talk. He spills his guts to them, tries not to be too emotional about it, fails miserably, and they just sort it all out. No need to hold it in, no need for Irena to deny them this time, and even if Garroth faintly thinks this is a waste of time at the start, when Laurance very directly says that he's in love with Garroth, that opinion very quickly changes.

Irena freely admits she doesn't have a lot of experience with love or relationships, but she knows that she feels love for both of them, and she'd like to try something. Even if it's quiet. Even if they have to hide it so Zane doesn't try to use it against them. She wants to try. And well, Garroth really can't say no to them. He's still faintly terrified of being emotional and vulnerable with people, even though he's already been this way with both of them. He's still so paranoid it'll get them hurt.

But he'll learn to let down his guard for them. They're worth it.

23 notes · View notes

sourcherryandsprinkles · 16 days

Note

i saw your prompt list and was hoping for number 6 with Aegon <3

‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’

Request: Aegon married Rhaenyra's daughter. When the king dies, Alicent lock her in the dungeons so she won't go to her mother and ruin the coronation. Aegon ask where his wife is and get you out himself. Tells the guard that his wife is not to be made prisoner

—

You always knew Alicent had madness running through her blood, but you never thought she would have you taken to the dungeons and imprisoned.

After dressing in your day dress, you were walking down the corridors, looking for Halaena when you heard voices coming from the small council chamber talking about sending men to Dragonstone to kill your mother and Daemon. Before you could get to your bed chamber and write her a message to send by crow, one of the guards saw you and brought you to the dungeons.

You tried to scream for help, but the sounds were killed by the stone walls. So you sank to the floor and curled on yourself, praying to the gods that someone would come get you out. Someone must have noticed your absence.

At his return from the dragonpit, Aegon walked into your chambers and called to you. He assumed you were with his sister, so he went to Halaena’s chambers, but she told him she had not seen you. On his way back from his sister’s chambers, Aegon heard the servants whispering about ‘the blacks’ daughter’ and stopped them.

With fury in his eyes, the prince stormed down to the dungeons. He didn’t have his sword on him — only Aemond wore it on the daily —, but he had his dagger. Whoever would try to oppose freeing you will end their day bleeding out. Aegon was not afraid of a fight.

His footsteps echoed off the stone walls and the torches flickered as he passed. As he reached the entrance to the dungeons, Aegon clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tight with determination. Without surprise, two guards were stationed at the entrance. They moved to block the way when the prince approached.

‘’We cannot let you go past, my prince. Orders of the Queen,’’ one of them said.

‘’The King’s dead, which no longer makes her Queen. And as the rightful heir to the throne, it is my command you obey.’’ Aegon tried to go past them, but the other guard pulled out his sword. ‘’I could have you removed from the kingsguard for pointing your sword at your future King.’’ His jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger as he stared the defiant guards.

The threat hung heavy in the air, a silent warning of the consequences should they continue to defy him. After a tense moment, the guard who had brandished his sword reluctantly stepped aside.

‘’My wife is not to be made a prisoner,’’ Aegon declared, his voice ringing with authority, holding his dagger at the guard’s throat.

The guard gulped. ‘’Yes, my Prince.’’

Aegon walked past them, wondering how his own mother could do this. A part of him was not surprised, though. Her determination often goes too far.

Finally, he reached the row of cells. All were empty, except one. His heart was pounding in his chest as he saw you sitting with your knees pulled to your chest on the cold stone floor. He said your name and you looked up, tears welling up in your eyes as you stood and reached out to him. You knew he would come for you.

‘’Aegon!’’ Your voice held relief.

He grabbed your hand through the bars, cold from being down here, holding it. ‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’ Aegon reached out to caress your tear-streaked face, his touch a tender reassurance in the midst of chaos.

Using the keys he stole from the guards, Aegon unlocked the door, a harsh creaking sound echoing in the silence of the dungeon when it opened. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if afraid to let you go.

‘’Are you alright?’’ he asked, stepping back to look at you.

You nodded. You were cold, and very thirsty, but not hurt. ‘’I heard your mother and her father speaking to the Lord Commander. They sent men to murder my mother,’’ you said, a tear slipping down your face. ‘’I was sent here so I wouldn’t write to her and risk ruining your coronation. I need to get to the dragonpit. I have to go to Dragonstone and save my mother.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes@thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23@lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10@tabloidteen@timetoten@deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15@daemonslittlebitch@queenbeestuffs@severewobblerlightdragon@agentstarkid@msliz@vane1999-blog@fairyfolkloresposts@todaywasafairytale07@otomaniac@zgzgzh@thebeardedmoon@golden-library@kikyrizuki@hnslchw@camy85@winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #hotd aegon #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #idk if i like this one

512 notes · View notes

muwapsturniolo · 2 months

Text

✯EX For A Reason✯

summary: y/n realizes that Chris still has feelings for Dessi despite being in a relationship with him for two years

warnings: cheating, lying, fighting. auto vandalization, blood.

PT1 MWW1

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

"Lord you know how hard it is, dealing with the pain day to day over one man." y/n mumbles to herself as she lifts herself off the wall. She was currently at a party with her boyfriend of 2 years, and his brothers.

It was one of the triplets' close friend's birthday parties, meaning people she didn't know were there. The one person she does know but has never talked to is Dessi.

Chris's ex.

Currently, Chris was in the corner talking to Dessi, laughing as if the girl had never done him wrong. Y/n gives him the benefit of the doubt. Like she said, Dessi had done Chris dirty, dragged him to hell and back. Y/n was the one that had to lift him up and show him love again. Instead of being dramatic and popping off, she decides to get another drink. She knows Dessi will never amount to her, Chris would never leave her for Dessi.

A few days later, Y/n was lying in Chris's bed, waiting for him to get out of the shower. As she was waiting, Chris's phone was blowing up, ringing back to back with calls and texts.

"Who the fuck is that?" She mumbles in irritation. She snatches the phone from the nightstand. Looking at the notification bar, she sees Dessi's name with a heart next to it. She wants to go through the phone so bad, wanting to know why his ex is blowing up his phone. She eyes the bathroom door before unlocking the device. She goes to the messages and she's in disbelief.

Chris and Dessi have been texting.

For weeks.

The shower stops and she quickly puts the phone back where it was, relaxing back into the bed. Chris walks into the room, sweatpants hanging low on his waist. He's quick to lay on the bed, cuddling up to Y/n.

"You ever think about Dessi?" Chris snaps his head up, the question catching him off guard. "What the hell? Why would yo-Is she ever on your mind? Be honest." She watches Chris with hard eyes as he sits up. She knows he's going to lie to her like every guy does when they get caught up.

"N-No! I never think about her! Why are you asking me?" She notices how his eyes dart towards his phone. She scoffs and picks up the phone slamming it to his chest. Chris winces at the impact, wishing he put on a shirt. "Don't fucking play with me Chris! I'm not playing any games! Why the fuck are you texting and calling that bitch?!"

"S-She just wanted to tal-I don't give a fuck!" By now Y/n is yelling, leaving Chris nervous and concerned. "That bitch treated you like shit and broke you down! She's your ex for a reason, I give absolutely no fuck about what she wanted to talk to you about!" Chris has never seen Y/n this angry, it's honestly scary.

"Y-You're right! I'm sorry! I'll tell her to leave me alone." He attempts to calm her down, not wanting this to blow up more than it already has. "You fucking better! Cause if yall keep trying me I'm beating everybody's ass! Tell that bitch she better understand the consequences 'cause I'm not above spinning the block Chris, I'm not fucking playing!"

"Ok, ok! I'm sorry! Please just calm down! I'll tell her tomorrow let's just relax." He pleads, rubbing on Y/n's arms. It works, she calms down and settles back into the bed.

But little did she know, he was lying.

The calls and texts didn't stop, in fact, Chris never told Dessi to stop.

"That Bitch is just mad because Chris moved on and you got him in the end," Lani states firmly

"I just don't understand why he even bothered to speak with her! Like does he not know you don't play that shit and never have? I remember when you popped off on Jason!"

"I'm trying not to act like that with him. I don't like acting out, but I swear he's going to bring it out of me." Lani shakes her head, not liking what her friend is going through at all. Suddenly Y/n's phone rings and she picks it up.

"Hey Ma- Oh fuck..." Y/n frowns hearing Matt's words. Lani turns to her and mouths "Who is it?"

Y/n puts the phone on speaker and answers Matt, "Matt what's going on?"

She hears shuffling before Nick's voice is heard, "You know you're like a best friend to me right?" Lani and Y/n look at each other before she answers,

"Yeah?"

"Ok well me and Matt came home and saw a car parked in the driveway. We thought you got a new car, but you would never get a bright red car, I know you too well! So we come through the front door and we hear moaning..."

Y/n's heart falls to her stomach, not believing the words.

"And like, not to sound like a fucking creep, but I've heard you moaning and your shit is not that high pitched. Whoever it is could break fucking gla-Yall still at home?" Y/n cuts Nick off, her hands clenching the phone tightly.

"Yeah, we are outsi-I'm on my way. Don't go in that fucking house." She hangs up the phone, demanding Lani to drive to the triplet's house.

As they arrive, Y/n sees the bright red car in all its glory, sitting in the driveway. She recognizes the car from the party,

It's Dessi's.

She's hurt, feeling betrayed by the actions of Chris. She poured all this love and affection into him and this is how she is repaid?

Everyone gasps seeing her grab a rock and smash the windows of the red car. The car alarm goes off as she keeps vandalizing the vehicle. "Y/n stop!" Matt yells in panic, he can't believe Nick and Lani are laughing at this. Suddenly the front door opens, Chris and Dessi running out.

Chris stops seeing everyone in the front yard.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Dessi screams seeing her beaten-up car. She moves forward and pushes Y/n away. The two girls get into a screaming match, pushing each other. Chris snaps out of his shock and runs towards them, pulling them apart and holding Y/n back. "Don't fucking touch me!' She screams pushing him away, not wanting his hands that were once on Dessi to touch her.

"Y/n calm down! You're being unreasonable!''

"I'm being unreasonable?! ain't no motherfuckin' to be reasonable! You decided to lie to me, and fuck your ex! I should slap the fuck outta you Chris! I should actually slap the both of y'all!" she barks.

"You're not gonna do shit to me!" Dessi screams back.

Y/n snaps her head back to Dessi, "bitch keep playing with me and imma snap!"

"You're just mad that he was texting me and fucking me while you two were toge-"

Y/n blacks out.

She rushes forward, throwing a punch to Dessi's jaw. She falls to the ground and Y/n stands over her, throwing punches left and right. Everyone but Lani stands there in shock, they have never seen Y/n act like this. She's usually sweet and goofy, never this angry and aggressive.

But Lani knows how Y/n gets down. She's not the type to let anybody or any bitch punk her.

Dessi tries to fight back but it's no use, Y/n is overpowering her in every way. She grabs a handful of Dessi's hair and drags her across the driveway, landing palmed punches to the girl's face, "Stop fucking playing with me bitch!"

By now Dessi is crying, blood dripping from her nose.

Matt and Chris dart forward, finally having enough of this fight. Chris wraps his arms around Y/n's waist, trying to get her away as Matt tries to get Dessi away. Y/n continues to hold on to Dessi's hair, screaming profanities left and right.

They eventually separate the two girls, but not without Y/n ripping out some of Dessi's hair.

Dessi stands up, tears running down her face, "I'm pressing charges!"

"Do it then bitch! Ion give a fuck!" Y/n shouts back as Chris drags her inside the house. He slams the front door and holds her against it, preventing her from moving.

"Y/n stop ple-" Chris's head whips to the side.

Y/n had slapped him.

When he lifts his head to look at Y/n, he sees the tears forming in her eyes.

"I deserved that," he mumbles softly.

"You're damn right you did! You fucking cheated on me, and according to that bitch out there, it was more than once!" Chris says nothing.

"Why did you do it?"

silence.

"Fucking answer me Chris!" She screams.

"I-I don't know." His voice cracks. Y/n laughs, throwing her head back in disbelief. "I'm sorry ok, I really fucked up and I'm going to do my best to make it up to yo-You won't have the chance to make it up to me." She says with a straight face.

If it didn't already, his heart drops to his stomach. "W-What? Y/n please," he begs. He knows he fucked up big time, but he thought he could fix it. He thought he could make everything better.

"Come on, Please? Don't- don't do this." His hands begin to shake as his eyes burn from the salty water forming. "You made your bed, and now you're lying in it. I'm done. I have zero tolerance for it."

"Please Y/n, I-I love you!"

"No you don't. You love that I look like her."

Chris's mouth runs dry as she states a thought that has run through his head multiple times.

"You think I'm stupid Chris? The first time we met and fucked, you moaned her name. And you want to know the crazy part? You continued to do it!"

He looks away from her out of guilt.

She was right.

There were multiple times when the two were having sex he would accidentally moan Dessi's name. He tried to play it off, acting like he never said it. He thought it worked, Y/n never said anything.

Until now.

"And the crazy part is, her and I are vastly different! So no, you don't love me. But it's fine. I'm not going to give you any type of ultimatum, because I'm done."

She goes to open the door and leave, but Chris stops her, pulling her into a hug. "Y/n, please! I'm sorry I'm so so sorry!" Chris pleads, tears finally running down his face.

"Please, it won't happen again I'll make it up to you! I'll block her, I'll tell her it was a mistake! J-Just don't leave me!" Y/n gives him a look of pity and opens the door, walking out of the house and Chris's life.

Nick and Matt watch as the girl they started to consider a sister walks out of the house with a stoic face that doesn't match the tears in her eyes.

"Let's go Lani"

Lani throws a glare toward Dessi, before getting in the car with Y/n, and driving away.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

2nd post for muwap week !!!! kinda wanna make a part 3 but idk!!! let me know what yall think!!!

the next fic for muwap week is.......

✯bestfriends brother ft nick sturniolo✯

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @mattslolita @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore

166 notes · View notes

archangeldyke-all · 4 months

Note

Halloooo

For cowboy!Sevika I had an idea about Sev just being a terrible bartender after retiring constantly fucking up drinks, scaring customers and in general can’t do the job. Perhaps angsty, where she feels a burden to you or unhappy she can’t reintegrate back to normal life or very fluffy where reader tries to show Sev how to actually do the job and makes Sev do a different job after she still doesn’t get it

Or maybe cowboy Sevika acting as a guard for the bar and she protects you from the handsy and aggressive customer for you or perhaps some young outlaws wink wink (Vi and Jinx could make an appearance) try and steal from reader bar and Sevika shows them either who’s boss 🤭 or how to steal and get away with it !

LOVE ALL YOUR WRITINGS btw your doing the lords work for the Sevika lover community 🫡

love you <333

the second one???? genius... omg...

read part 1 of cowboy sevika here!

men and minors dni

sevika's been settling into the rancher life pretty easily. at sunrise, you both wake up in each other's arms. you start your rounds around the inn, delivering fresh washed towels to your guests, and then heading out to the garden to weed and water before the sun gets too high. sevika dresses in her rancher get up and makes the two of you breakfast, and if you're not too busy, you guys eat together in the tavern, sitting curled in each other's arms, chatting over coffee and eggs.

after breakfast, you walk sevika to the small stables, greeting shimmer and helping her get all saddled up. sevika always gives you a breathtaking kiss before she jumps onto shimmers back, tipping her hat at you and then taking off for the ranch a few miles north of town.

she works until sunset, and comes home at dusk, where you serve her a big bowl of dinner and a tall glass of whiskey, between tending to customers and doing chores. after she unwinds from work, sevika helps you close up the tavern, then the two of you retire to your quarters on the third floor, falling into each other's arms and chatting about your days, before making love and falling asleep against one another, excited to repeat the routine again tomorrow.

it's winter now, and with the shortened days, sevika's got much more time to spend at home with you.

when you're not busy, she spends her evenings in her stool at the bar, watching you work, flirting with you like you aren't already married, and intimidating any men who come in looking for trouble. when you've got lots of guests, sevika's a great help, doing chores without you even having to ask, helping you cook and clean, pressing kisses to your cheek when there's a lull.

you're happier than you've ever been. sevika is too.

tonight, you've got a fire roaring in the fireplace, trying to chase away the chill of the harsh cold wind blowing outside. you've only got two guests, and they both retired to their rooms early. it's just you and sev in the tavern, dancing slowly to the music playing over the gramophone.

"i'm so cold." you whisper against sevika. she chuckles, tugging you closer to her swaying body.

"you've got ten layers on." she says, pressing a kiss to your temple. you giggle.

"yeah, but it's no help. if only there were some other way to warm me up..." you say, suggestively blinking your eyelashes at your wife. she laughs, her head falling backwards.

"you're a minx." she says, shaking her head at you. you smile.

"that's not a no." you point out.

"i'll never say no to an offer like that, darlin', you know that." she says. you grin, leaning forward to press a kiss to her lips.

"one of the many reasons i love ya." you say. she hums.

"what're the others?" she asks, as she slowly twirls you under her arm then tugs you back to her chest.

"i'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." you say. sevika smirks.

"deal."

"your smile." you start. sevika's smirk grows, her cute little gap in her teeth revealing itself. your heart melts. "there it is." you say, raising your hand from her shoulders to cup her cheeks. she nuzzles against your hold.

"hmm, that's funny. 's the first thing on my list too." she says. you laugh.

"you can't just copy every one of my answers."

"i'm not!" she insists. "c'mon, gimmie another."

you roll your eyes. "your voice." you say honestly. sevika raises an eyebrow at you.

"really?" she asks. you nod.

"my favorite sound besides your laugh." you say with a shrug. sevika melts, her arms pulling your impossibly closer to her swaying body, her head falling forward to press your foreheads together.

"sap. i like your ass." she says. you burst into laughter.

"perv!" you accuse. sevika just shrugs.

"still remember the first time i saw it. walked in here lookin' for a drink, and you were bendin' down behind the bar, getting some potatoes for the stew. think i fell in love right then." she says. you snort.

"real romantic, baby." you chastise her. she laughs.

"c'mon, 're we takin' this party upstairs or what?" she asks, waggling her eyebrows at you. you smile.

"go tuck shimmer in for the night and i'll put out the fire." you say, swooping forward to kiss your wife. "i'll meet you upstairs." you say. she grins.

"deal." she says.

she twirls you under her arm one final time before stepping away from your body, giving your ass a little pat on her way out of the tavern to check up on her mare.

you take your time wandering around the tavern, sweeping up the floor and putting chairs up, turning off the oil lamps, before grabbing a quilt and tucking it over your shoulders and wandering out to the water pump, filling a bucket of water to douse the fire with. you can hear sevika in the stable, the sounds of shimmer snorting and hay rustling, the sound of a brush as sevika tends to her horse. it makes you smile, your heart warming in the cold, cold weather.

you quickly dart back inside the now darkened tavern, desperate to get out of the cold.

something feels off.

the fire's low, and there's barely any light, but there's a shadow behind the bar you don't recognize. you freeze in the doorway, squinting your eyes at the shadowy figures. you gulp.

"hello?" you call out. nobody answers. just before you shake it off and return to the task at hand, a coin clatters to the ground behind the bar, and a voice whispers, 'shit!'

you gasp. someone's fucking robbing you!

you spring into action, throwing the bucket of water in your hands at the bar, soaking your intruder. two voices gasp, and you sprint over to the bar. "get the fuck outta here!" you call, your eyes adjusting to the two tiny figures ducking behind the bartop. they scramble, and you chase after them, screaming. "think you can fuckin' rob me?! you stupid fuckers, you got no idea who the fuck i am do you?!" you scream as you chase them out of your inn. as the tiny robbers take off, a trail of coins follows their path.

they spring out of the parlor doors, taking off down the dirt road, the moonlight illuminating their soaking wet bodies. they're kids!

they're not just kids, they're fast little fucks, sprinting away while you stumble down the front porch after them. "fuckin' stop!" you call.

it's no use, and you feel stupid chasing after kids, so you just sigh as you watch them run away.

suddenly, a gunshot rings out. the kids freeze and you jump, turning around to find sevika standing in the road behind you with her shotgun in her hands. "the woman said stop!" she shouts.

both kids raise their hands in surrender, and you smirk.

"get your ass inside now!" you shout at your robbers. they don't move. you glare at them, and behind you, sevika cocks the barrel, and aims it at them. "unless you want me to send for the sheriff." you add on.

the taller kid's shoulders fall, and then the two of them slump forward, slowly approaching you and sevika.

you both gasp as they get closer, realizing just how young your thiefs are. the oldest, a girl with a choppy pink haircut, is no older than ten. the girl beside her with two tiny pigtails looks like she's still too young for school. sevika scoffs.

"unbelievable." she mumbles. you chuckle.

you grab the collars of their shits, dragging them back inside the tavern, sevika following behind you.

you throw them in some chairs and glare at them. "stay." you command. they guiltily keep their eyes on their feet, and sevika sits across from them, her gun resting against the table, as you turn on a few lamps and round the bar for some towels, bread, and a bottle of whiskey.

when you return, the shivering girls quickly wrap themselves up in the warm towels, and tear into the bread like they're starving. some of the anger in your chest melts, pity taking it's place. you sit down beside sevika, studying your prisoners as you take a long sip from the bottle in your hands, before passing it over to her.

"do you know who i am?" you ask. the older girl blinks up at you. "do you know what this place is?" you ask. she shrugs.

"an inn?" she asks. you snort.

"the last inn on earth you'd ever wanna rob." you say, nodding.

"why? we almost got away with it." the younger kid asks. you snort. sevika huffs beside you.

"because criminals stay here. actual criminals, not wannabe fuck ups like you two." sevika spits out. the oldest rolls her eyes.

"we're criminals!" she defends. sevika chuckles.

"you stuffed your pockets with coins and left a trail behind you. by the time you got away, you'd have had fifty cents left, at best. you robbed us before we were even closed! you're what, five years old?" she asks. the girl scoffs.

"i'm eight!" she exclaims. beside her, the younger girl huffs.

"what's wrong with bein' five?" she asks.

you chuckle. "where're your parents?" you ask, no longer upset about the attempted robbery, ready to get back to your night alone with your wife.

"we don't have any." the younger girl says. the older one stares down at her lap, biting her lip.

you and sevika shoot each other a look. fuck.

"what're your names?" you ask, rising from the table to round the bar again, pulling out two bowls and filling them with some stew.

"i'm violet. this is powder." the oldest replies. "we're sisters." she says.

you return to the table, and pass a bowl of stew to each girl. the youngest looks at you with stars in her eyes, while the oldest glares at you.

"thanks, miss!" powder says. you smile at her.

"don't eat that powder." violet whispers. "could be poisoned." she says.

sevika snorts. "if we wanted you dead, i'd've shot you. fuckin' eat." she says. violet glares at her, but picks up her spoon nonetheless.

after the first bite, the girls' eyes go wide, and then they start shoveling the food into their mouths like animals starved. your heart breaks again. sevika elbows you, knowing that you're softening to the girls. you look back at her. the two of you have a silent conversation. it goes something like this:

absolutely not.

they're kids, sev!

fuck no. you already fed 'em. they tried to rob us!

they're orphans! they're starving, and soaking wet, and freezing cold!

they. tried. to. rob. us.

we're rich, we can afford a little robbery from time to time! you're wanted in twenty three counties for the same crime, and i still married you!

...fuck.

you smirk, and sevika huffs and rolls her eyes.

"look." you say. the girls look up from their bowls. "you can stay here for a while, i got some vacancies upstairs. if you try any funny shit, you'll be out on your asses again, understand?" you ask. the girls blink at you.

"what?" voilet asks. "why?" she asks, suspicious. you shrug.

"i'm a nice person." you say.

"she's a saint." sevika corrects, glaring at the girls.

"and if the two of you are gonna try 'n make it out west as thieves, you gotta learn how to rob properly." you say. "luckily for you, i know someone who can help teach ya." you say, nudging sevika. she huffs.

"only if they help with the chores around here." she says. "shovelin' shimmer's shit. cleanin' the outhouse. the nasty shit." she says. you nod, then look at violet.

"deal?" you say. she blinks, then looks at her sister. powder shrugs.

"deal." violet says, reaching forward to shake your hand.

your days look a little different now. you and sevika never wanted kids, and your motherly instincts aren't exactly up to par, but the four of you figure it out as time goes on.

in the mornings, you still wake up at dawn. but instead of getting to work on the chores, the two of you get to slowly wake up together while the girls take care of the morning rounds.

you all eat breakfast together, powder usually providing the entertainment with wild re-enactments of her dreams from the night before.

during the days, sevika goes to the ranch, and you stay back at the inn, teaching violet how to cook and powder how to read. when she returns at night, the girls join her in the two stools beside her designated spot, chatting to you behind the bar and teasing you while you work.

the three of them help when you're busy. vi's got a knack for people, charming the pants off of any patrons who come in. powder is a wiz behind the counter, great with numbers, obsessed with the fun noises the register makes each time she pops it open.

when your patrons retire for the night, sevika gives the girls robbing lessons. she tries to pretend she hates the kids, but you see the grin she wears when she teaches them how to ride horseback, or when they master a new slight of hand trick.

you're both growing attached to the girls.

the first time violet sees you and sevika kiss, she trips over her own feet and falls face first onto the floor. every time after that, you catch her gawking at you and sevika, a look of wonder and shock in her eyes. it's cute. you remember the first time you saw two women kiss; the shock that flooded your body, quickly followed by the warmth of a new realization about yourself.

one night, as you're saying goodnight to the girls, violet tugs your hand before you can leave her bed. you blink down at her.

"what's up, kid?" you ask.

"you and sevika... you guys are married?" she asks. you smile and nod. "...like, the same way men and women are?" she whispers. you giggle.

"yeah." you say. she blinks.

"how?!" she asks. you shrug.

"bribed a pastor." you say. she smiles.

"oh." she says. you nod.

"y'know... the west is different from the rest of the world. people out here are a little more... open minded. and if they're not, you can always just shoot 'em." you say. "you can be anybody you want to be."

violet bites her lip as she considers this. "like... like a retired bandit/rancher who lives in a tavern?" she asks. you laugh and nod.

"who lives in a tavern with her wife." you say. violet blushes, and you ruffle her hair. "goodnight kid."

sevika's particularly fond of powder. when they're not bickering, they're getting into trouble with each other. you've found them in the cellar 'sneaking' scoops of jam out of jars while giggling mischievously with one another.

powder is shimmer's favorite person in the world, you swear the little kid can telepathically communicate with the horse or something. you've found her asleep in shimmers stable on warm evenings, sevika just rolling her eyes as she refills the troughs. you know she's not really annoyed, though. not when powder's got sevika's red poncho tucked under her chin as a blanket.

your customers get pretty used to the presence of the girls too, greeting them with fist bumps and noogies, bringing them trinkets from their travels and adventures.

by the time spring rolls around, the room at the end of the hall's been permanently taken off the roster for outside customers. powder and vi customized the little white door to their room with bright blue and pink paint.

as the days grow longer again, sevika stays at the ranch longer, and she comes home more and more exhausted.

one night, she's laying on her stomach in bed, groaning as you massage her sore back. you lean down to press a kiss to her neck.

"i love you." you say. sevika hums.

"i love you too, darlin'."

"how were the cows today?" you ask. she huffs.

"fuckin' crazy. they're all excited about the warm weather."

"powder missed you today." you say. sevika sighs.

"little fucker." she says fondly. you laugh.

"you love her." you say. sevika groans.

"i guess. they're not that bad. they're a big help around here too." she says. you smile.

"yeah." you say.

"you think they're ever gonna leave?" she asks, turning over to flop on her back and look up at you. you settle down on her chest, listening to the steady thump of her heart.

"no." you say honestly. "at least not for a long while."

"i thought we didn't want kids." she says. you laugh.

"we didn't. we don't. just think of 'em as permanent residents." you say. sevika groans.

"i thought i was teachin' 'em to rob so they could go out on their own."

"oh please, you'd be heartbroken if they left."

sevika chuckles beneath you. "i guess." she says, a little smile on her lips. you grin. "they're lucky, y'know." she says. you furrow your brow.

"whaddya mean?"

"that they robbed us. that it's your inn. that you like takin' in strays." she says. you giggle. "they could be in a jail cell. or livin' with nuns at an orphanage." sevika says, a shiver running down her spine. you press a kiss to her neck.

"i'm lucky too, you know." you say. she hums a questioning sound beneath you. you grin. "all the strays i took in ended up bein' sweethearts." you explain. sevika laughs beneath you.

"whatever." she says. you giggle and kiss her neck again.

"you're still my favorite you know." you say. sevika chuckles.

"i better be."

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

149 notes · View notes

optimizche · 1 year

Text

Missing (Part 8) [Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon]

Warnings: Smut (minors DNI), fluff, angst.

Watching the immense golden dragon land in the courtyard of the castle of Winterfell made your breath hitch. Shouts were heard of the Northern guards and their commanders preparing their weaponry in case of an attack. Within seconds, Jacaerys and you were running into the castle walls, ready to prepare your own dragons in the event of violence but were met with the sight of Aegon Targaryen, the usurper, calmly dismounting from Sunfyre's back. He shot a smirk at Jacaerys, giving you a rather mocking bow before making his way inside the castle.

Before he could take even a step inside the castle, his way was barred by the arrival of Lord Cregan Stark and his personal guards, all of them armed and prepared.

Aegon raised his hands in surrender before walking towards Cregan. "I come with a message, Lord Stark. There is no need for such commotion."

"You came on the back of your dragon, usurper," Jacaerys spat and Aegon waved a hand dismissively toward his nephew.

"Learn to speak when you are asked, dear nephew," he said, before turning to Lord Stark.

"It is a rarity that the King himself brings a message to a House."

"What is it that caused you to fly out here by yourself, My Lord?" Lord Cregan Stark asked, his brow quirking.

Aegon sneered. "I believe the term is "My King." I'll even be generous enough to accept Your Grace."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the utter pettiness of the Targaryen prince. It reminded you so much of Aemond.

Cregan and Jacaerys both remained silent, waiting.

"I come to Winterfell with terms for House Stark. Swear fealty to my cause and ask your bannermen to do the same and I shall allow you to rule Winterfell-"

"You shall allow me to rule Winterfell? The land of my forefathers? You?" Lord Cregan said, an amused smile gracing his lips. "You, who couldn't keep his own wife from bedding his own brother?"

You felt a smile creep up on your own lips, giving Jace's hand a squeeze. He gave you a wink.

"Agree to my terms and bring the North to my cause and I shall spare you from the wrath of my dragon's fire," Aegon threatened, an embarassed flush rising in his cheeks.

"Are you still down in your cups this morning, Uncle?" Jacaerys asked. "You are vastly outnumbered with our two dragons against one of yours."

"And Winterfell, along with the rest of the North, stands behind the firstborn son of the one true and rightful Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen," Lord Cregan Stark added.

It was priceless, seeing the flush of humiliation on Aegon's face. You had an inkling that it was the humiliation of your letters being sent all around the Seven Realms that had led him to take on this stunt of trying to threaten Winterfell to surrender, all by himself.

Aegon was nothing if not conceited and full of himself. You knew he was not going to take this indignity well.

"Fine," he said, turning to walk back toward his dragon, Sunfyre. "But I shall return to claim what is mine with fire and blood."

It was then, upon hearing the words of the Targaryen house, fire and blood, that something struck you. It was something you had often thought about these days.

"Wait! Aegon!" you called out, letting go of a bewildered Jace's hand and walking towards him with a determination in your feet.

The silver haired boy who called himself King turned towards you coolly. "You're asking the men to change their minds, My Lady?"

"Hardly, Aegon. I am surprised you do not recognise me yet-"

He suddenly grasped you by the arms, pulling you towards him until his lips were at your ear. "I know exactly who you are, My Lady. You were my little brother's confidant, my father's healer. I'm still quite stunned by how beautiful you've grown up to become."

You swallowed down the sudden taste of bile in your throat, the stench of strongwine emanating from the Targaryen making you nauseous. Also, it didn't help how his nails dug into the flesh of your forearms, like the claws of a dragon. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself.

"Aegon, I wish to ask you for your mercy," you said, your voice equally low. "For the sake of the time we spent together in our childhood, I beg for your clemency towards Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Please."

At the mention of the twins, Aegon pushed you away roughly. Jacaerys snarled, unsheathing his Valyrian steel dagger and stepping close to you protectively, ready to attack his uncle.

Reeling from Aegon's push, you placed a calming hand on Jacaerys' arm, pleading to him with your eyes to let you speak.

"And why do you care so much for the children?" Aegon asked.

"I care because they are children," you said. "They are innocent. They have done nothing to deserve the consequences for the sins of their parents, and you know that. You know that, Aegon. Think about it. You would not want a child bearing your name to be treated the way you were."

You could see on his face that he was considering your words, the gears in his mind working furiously. You knew that deep down, Aegon was not evil. He was a product of the years of abuse from his mother and grandfather.

He remained silent, contemplating, while you kept your hand on Jacaerys' arm, waiting.

"Fine," Aegon sneered. "Kneel before me and beg for my mercy for the children."

You stepped back, scoffing at the request. Of course, it wouldn't be Aegon if he didn't bully, belittle or insult someone to make his own inadequacies feel smaller.

"How dare you, you cunt!" Jacaerys growled, raising his dagger.

"No, Jace, please," you entreated, trying to stop him before he did something reckless.

Upon hearing your words, Jacaerys stared at you in disbelief, his eyes almost shouting I can't believe you're going to entertain him.

But the guilt that had been gnawing away at you ever since you had written those letters overpowered you and you slowly sank to your knees in front of Aegon. You knew full well that you should have despised Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in your right mind, for they were the product of Aemond's ultimate betrayal. But the threat to their innocent lives had invoked a great sense of remorse in you.

"I beg you to forgive Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, Aegon," you said, looking up at the rubies encrusted in the crown upon his head, pushing down the humiliation you felt. "I need you to give me your word."

"Gods do you look pretty on your knees like a-"

Before Aegon could even complete the sentence, Jacaerys slashed violently at him, cutting a clean gash on his right cheekbone.

"Jacaerys!" you gasped.

With a cry, Aegon fell backwards, his hand trying to stop the blood streaming from the cut.

In seconds, Lord Cregan Stark was holding back Jacaerys, preventing the Velaryon Prince from inflicting any further damage to the Targaryen, understanding the consequences of this attack. An all-out war could start right this second with Winterfell being the first casualty.

You rushed toward Aegon, kneeling beside him and placing your hand upon his face. "You always were a fool, Aegon. A slave to your own vices," you said, using your abilities to heal his cut. The flesh and skin sealed themselves seamlessly beneath your fingers. "Give me your word about the twins and begone. You'll end up dead otherwise."

"Gods be good, I give you my word," Aegon gave in, dazed by your healing skills. "The twins shall be unharmed."

"Now leave," you said, rising to your feet, leaving him on the ground. "Leave before our dragons burn you alive."

You returned to Jace's side, whispering calming words to help his anger subside as you led him to your chambers within the castle, not even waiting to watch Aegon depart.

Lord Cregan Stark and his men would ensure that Sunfyre and his rider were safely away and out of sight.

With a sigh, you sank underneath the surface of the water, immersing yourself in its welcoming heat that surrounded every inch of your bare skin.

Rising, you leaned your head back against the marbled wall of the enormous bath, inhaling the scent of lavender and jasmine infused oils.

After the incident in the courtyard this morning, Jacaerys had left you by yourself in the castle while he spent the day going on a hunt with Lord Stark and his men. It was something he needed to do to distract himself, he said. But you knew better. You, kneeling before Aegon, had hurt him. It wasn't so much about the lewd comment Aegon had made but the fact that you had knelt before the man who had stolen his mother's throne, that you had knelt before the man who's brother had once been your best friend in childhood. You had knelt before the man who's brother still remained somewhere in you heart.

As much as you had tried to console and calm Jacaerys, he had refused to listen to you, choosing to occupy his time with hunting stags.

You reached for the cup of wine resting on the side of the bath, taking a healthy sip of it, having already consumed quite a bit. This Northern wine was far more potent than the wines you were used to at Dragonstone, but you needed something to calm your nerves. It burned as it slid down your throat, its sweetness so heady on your tongue.

It puzzled you, your concern for the well-being of the twins. You should have felt hatred at best and indifference at worst for the children as they were a constant reminder of Aemond's actions, of the fact that he would never truly be yours.

And yet, you cared enough to kneel before Aegon to beg for their safety.

Why?

Was it to absolve the remorse you felt about writing those letters? Seeing how unfairly Jace, Luke and Joff had been treated because of their parentage that you wanted to shield the twins?

Or was it because, despite your best denials, you still felt something for Aemond?

Closing your eyes, you rested against the marble wall, breathing deeply as you felt the heat from the water sink into your flesh, warm you down to your bones. You could feel your guilt dissolve into nothingness, the heat that enveloped your body giving you a sense of comfort albeit temporarily.

It was the sound of footsteps that brought you back from your mind and you saw Jacaerys walking into the room when you opened your eyes.

"I am sorry," you whispered, suddenly feeling sheepish. "I should not have done that. I don't know why I did it."

Jace sat down on the ledge of the bath, still dressed in his hunting leathers. "You still love Aemond," he said, his expression unreadable. "You felt like his children suffered on the account of their bastardy and you tried to make it right. I just wish someone had tried to do the same thing for me instead of repeatedly brushing it under the carpet."

You felt your heart break upon hearing the crack in his voice. "Jacaerys," you looked up into his eyes. "I love you, too. I just… He still remains somewhere in me and I can't get rid of him."

The dark haired Prince smiled ruefully. "Don't you see? This is history repeating itself, my darling. My mother's lover was Ser Harwin even though her heart truly belonged to Daemon. I'm only your lover, while your heart belongs to-"

"Stop it, please," you said, suddenly feeling tears in your eyes. "Jacaerys, I love you. For the first time in a long time, I feel hope with you."

"You don't have to say that. I wish I was enough for you…"

"You are!" you said, grasping his hands in yours, suddenly remembering how awful you had felt when you had spoken the exact same words to Aemond in the cave near Storm's End. And you said what you wished he had said back. "You are enough and more. I… I don't deserve you. I don't deserve you, Jace."

The tears that had brimmed in your eyes now fell freely as you placed your forehead to his hands. "I don't know why you've chosen to waste your time on someone as broken as me when you could have any woman in the Seven Realms…"

"I don't want any other woman, I want you."

"I need time, Jacaerys. Please," you breathed, your tears falling onto his hands. "After wasting all these years pining for a man who cast me aside at the first opportunity he got, I find myself unable to put my faith in anyone else but myself. I know that you will never hurt me and that I should be grateful to your mother and your family for taking me in when I needed help the most, but-"

"You owe us nothing, my darling," Jacaerys said, before placing a kiss to your crown. "I am willing to wait for as long as it takes you. Just… Don't ever kneel and beg before a man like Aegon, no matter how noble your intentions are. My uncles are truly despicable and far, far beneath you. They do not deserve your goodness, do you understand? Not anymore."

His hands cupped your face, tilting your chin until you were looking up at him. "Viserys was my grandsire, but all his and the Hightowers' family did was take advantage of your kindness. You've exhausted so much of yourself for them. You've had your heart broken by them. I only wish for you to become your own woman, the woman who I see in you. You don't need Aemond by your side, and you don't even need me to be who you truly are. Don't squander away your life for them, I beg you."

"I won't. I won't," you agreed, furiously wiping away at your tears before asking him about the hunt.

Knowing that you had had enough regarding the incident with Aegon, Jacaerys told you about the elks and boars the hunting party managed to kill, undressing and climbing into the bath with you, the conversation turning from significant to light-hearted.

You leaned back against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder as he held you close, bringing the smile back to your face while regaling you with the details of his hunt.

It was easy as breathing, with Jacaerys, you thought, closing your eyes as he spoke about the silliness of Lord Cregan's squires, the two of you quietly chuckling away.

You lay in his arms, for how long you could not tell, revelling in the gentleness of his touch. In the amber candlelight illuminating the bath, you watched your fingers lace into his under the surface of the water. His touch was always so tender, so kind and he held you with such care, a stark contrast to the cruelty of Aegon's push and the time when Aemond had cut into your hand with his sword.

"You are so kind to me…" you murmured, turning to place a kiss on his jaw. "Always."

"That is because I love you," he responded, placing a kiss to your shoulder.

"Tell me," you asked, raising your intertwined hands above the surface of the water to see how fragile your hand looked, resting safely in his sturdy grasp. "What can I do to make up for my folly today?"

A devilish smile curved into his lips as his other hand slowly crept into the space between your legs. "I can think of a way…"

The silhouettes of your bodies were illuminated by the candles in the bedchamber. In the mirrored glass nearby, your eyes were fixed on your reflections. You, with your legs straddling the dark haired Prince, rising and falling in the most delectable rhythm, your damp hair a curtain down your bare back. Jacaerys lay against the pillows underneath you, his hands having found purchase on your slender waist, guiding you to ride him the just way he preferred. Even though it was you who was on top, it was Jacaerys who maintained absolute control.

"Look at you," he praised. "Look at the way your skin flushes in the candlelight, the red in your lips from my kisses, the lustful haze that clouds your eyes. Look at how easily you take all of me inside you. Watch how I sink into you only to emerge glistening in your arousal. Do you see, my darling?"

You nodded, your own head falling back at the sensation this position elicited from you. "Gods, Jace, you're so deep-" your words morphed into a moan as you lost yourself in the delicious drag of his cock against your clenching, velvety walls. It felt so full, like he was carving the shape of him inside you.

Having been at this for quite a while, being forcibly denied any sense of completion by him, you felt like the muscles in your thighs were screaming in protest. Jacaerys remained the picture of restraint, masterfully working you until you felt like you were going to break, only to wrench away the sweet release from your reach at the very last moment. Gushing copiously, you could smell your desperation in the air, biting down on your lip as you struggled to keep up your rhythm. Noticing your pace faltering, Jacaerys rose to a sitting position, his chest now flush against your heaving breasts.

Fire roiled through your belly, your hands finding home on the Prince's shoulders, your hands running through his hair while he suckled at your breasts. "Oh, my-"

His arms drew you into him, the sharp upward thrusts of his hips taking over flawlessly from your waning cadence. The pleasure made your back bow, your body surrendering to him entirely. Jacaerys pounded up into you with an all-consuming relentlessness, almost as if he was letting out his frustrations with you in the most exquisite way possible. Caged in his arms, you moaned and whimpered, taking his 'punishment' of you with utter obedience, unable to squirm away from his embrace, keening sharply as his fingers rubbed into the sensitive nub nestled in your folds.

Immersed in the pleasure that threatened to drown you, you opened your eyes to glance at your utterly debauched state in the mirror before the pearly glow of silver hair and a glint of sapphire caught your attention.

"Jace!"

At your startled gasp, Jacaerys stopped immediately, his eyes examining your face with worry. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, I-" you breathed, unable to voice what you had seen. Who you had seen. It couldn't be…

Were you hallucinating from the delirium? Or was Aemond actually here, inside the castle?

"I saw-"

Impossible.

He couldn't have found you all the way in the North, could he?

"What did you see, my darling?" Jace asked, his hands taking your face in his palms, his own eyes finding your line of sight. He turned to look around the room. "There's nothing here, sweetness. No one."

"I thought I saw…" you trailed off, your voice dying down as you looked around the room, before looking into the mirror, only to see that it was true.

But he was right there.

"Shhh…" Jacaerys reassured you, never once leaving your depths as his arms around your waist guided you to lie down upon a silken pillow under the small of your back. "Its just us, my darling."

In a fluid motion, he lifted your leg to hook it over his shoulder, drawing almost all the way out of you before plunging back in. You felt the breath leave your lungs, your fear and trepidation incinerating in a roar of pleasure. Eyes growing glazed under heavy lids, you gave in to the sharp, achingly deep thrusts that were delivered to you along with honeyed words breathed into your ear. "My princess. Mine. Mine. Mine."

"Oh, Jace…" It sent your heart soaring, a long drawn-out moan leaving your lips at the intensity of his claim upon you. To have someone want you with such desperation felt addictive. Heady, almost.

"You belong to me. Say it. I wish to hear you…" he commanded, his lips dragging across the bared column of your throat, his fingers resuming the tight and precise circles rubbing into your tender bud of nerves.

"I-I belong to you, My Prince. My King…"

Upon hearing the words laced in such absolute desire in your voice Jacaerys let go with a muttered curse. He shuddered against you, groaning as he spilled inside you. The sensation of his seed filling you up in heated and sticky spurts brought you to your own completion moments after, a relieved moan leaving you as you mercifully unraveled.

Lying in bed, throat raw from your cries, you felt utterly spent, feeling sleep dragging your eyelids shut. Every muscle in your body went lax, the syrupy dregs of remaining pleasure slowly enveloping you in their glow. Beside you, Jacaerys wasn't much better, his eyes falling closed as he inhaled the scent of your skin. Your Prince was clearly exhausted from the hunting day's exertions.

"There's a tourney tomorrow in our honour," he murmured sleepily into your neck. "I want to spend the day in bed with you, my princess."

"We must attend the tourney…. But I'm not a princess yet, My Prince," you grinned, placing a kiss to the crown of his dark hair.

"I will make you my Princess and, in time, my Queen. I swear it."

You fell into the bliss of oblivion, dreaming about your future beside Jacaerys.

It was the hour of the wolf when Aemond Targaryen emerged from his shroud of shadows.

His silvery mane glowed ethereally in the dying light of the almost burned out candles, his approach predatory.

Standing at your side of the bed, his fingers itched to grasp the handle of his dagger and impale it all the way to the hilt into Jacaerys Strong's neck.

But his eye was distracted by your beauty, drawn towards it like a moth to a flame. You lay on your back, limbs tangled in your bed furs, having drifted away from Jacaerys during the course of the night, leaving only your hand holding on to his as you slept.

Carefully sweeping away the stray locks of hair away from your face, Aemond felt a smile tug at his lips, seeing the tranquility adorning your features. You breathed deeply, letting out a sigh when his thumb brushed against your swollen lower lip.

Despite all that your actions had taken away from him, Aemond was filled with a sense of gratitude for you as you had stood before his older brother, Aegon, to ask for mercy for his children.

It gave him hope that despite the bitterness and pain he had made you suffer, you still felt a sliver of affection for him.

Why else would you have asked Aegon to spare the twins?

Aemond loomed over your sleeping form, his mind racing with a multitude of thoughts of you. If he so wished, he could have exacted his revenge for what you had done to him at this very moment.

Instead of his dagger, the silver haired Prince gently cupped your cheek, leaning down until his mouth was upon yours. You awakened at his kiss, eyes wide open with fear as you tried to use your arms to push him away. Aemond captured your wrists with the agility of a warrior, his mouth working furiously against yours, drawing out a surprised sound from you. Taking advantage, he slipped into your mouth, past your parted lips, to meet your tongue with his. It was heavenly, his first time kissing you with such intimacy. So lost was the one eyed Prince in the taste of you, that he almost forgot the salve he had applied to his lips a few minutes ago. It was the most potent sleeping draught he had smeared across his lips that he had kissed you with, the effect of which was starting to catch up with you.

Struggles dying down, your limbs went immobile, your eyes slipping shut as the potion took a hold of your mind, sending you to an unconsciousness as deep and dark as this darkest hour of the night even as his lips remained resolutely upon yours.

Once he was certain that you had fallen under the induced stupor, Aemond pulled away from you, wiping the remaining draught from his lips on his sleeve.

Realising that time was of the essence, he let go of your wrists, lifting you up into his arms and plucking you away from his nephew's side. Wrapping you up in his cloak to protect your modesty, he walked out of the bedchamber with you, into the night…

Author's note: Well, this story is called 'Missing' for a reason 😉 What did you think of this chapter?

Part 9

938 notes · View notes

tosomeonessomeone · 3 months

Text

Unbound.

words・ 5.3k /pairings・Lee know x Afab!reader / genres・ slightly angst, don’t worry there is a happy ending/ warnings・ mentions of violence and a fake suicide letter.

This amazing anon send this incredible request, hope you enjoy it ✨ My darling, you made me forget my university duties just to write this amazing piece. Dear Lord, I hope you enjoy it. The credit is all yours for this amazing idea! L.MH X AFAB READER - slow burn forbidden love (slight angst) but happy ending! Also imagine the song is old😅 if you’re able to it’s set in the older days (language is more well spoken and mannered etc..) Y/N slips out the window. She was wearing a commoner outfit as a disguise. A hood over her head, given that she was the princess, her father would naturally never allow her to leave the palace grounds. She walks into the popular dive bar that she had heard about by the other commoners. She sits to the side, amazed by the man's captivating voice and performance of "Call Out My Name" by The Weeknd, but quite emotional (or any other song of your choice). She stares at the man, his voice is beautiful. The lighting is perfect and ambient, and when the charismatic singer catches her eye, seeing the awe written all over her face, he sings harder. After looking for a second longer he instantly recognises those beautiful eyes. ‘The Princess,’ he thought. (i’ve left it open if you’d like to carry on this scene!) A fresh prisoner was later thrown into a cell a few days later. Upon realising the lyrics that echoed the cold walls, one of the many prisoners was singing very quietly as she walked by, the princess asks the guards who it was, to which they respond that it was a new prisoner who entered the castle grounds without permission. She gives the order for all the guards to leave and enters the prisoner holding area. The singing paused, "Princess," was murmured from the dark cell. THE REST IS UP TO YOU :D if you’re confused the singer is Minho! ✨

Y/N's heart raced as she slipped out of the castle window, the cool night air enveloping her in a cloak of secrecy. Dressed in a simple commoner's attire, she pulled the hood over her head, concealing her identity from the prying eyes of the palace guards. Her father, the king, would never approve of her nocturnal excursions into the bustling town below.

Stepping onto the cobblestone streets, Y/N marveled at the sights and sounds of the common folk going about their lives. Lanterns cast a warm glow, illuminating the narrow alleyways and quaint shops that lined the bustling marketplace.

Guided by whispers and rumors, Y/N found herself drawn to a dimly lit pub tucked away in a quiet corner of the town. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, she was greeted by the scent of ale and the soft murmur of conversation. The atmosphere was alive with anticipation, the air thick with the promise of secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Taking a seat in the shadows, Y/N watched as the crowd hushed, their attention drawn to the stage where a lone figure stood bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. His presence commanded the room, his voice weaving a spell that held everyone captive.

As the first notes of the song filled the air, Y/N's breath caught in her throat. It was a melody she had never heard before, yet it stirred something deep within her soul. Mesmerized, she watched as the singer poured his heart into each word, his voice a haunting echo of longing and desire.

And then, their eyes met.

In that fleeting moment, time stood still. The world faded away, leaving only the two of them bound by an invisible thread of fate. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she gazed into the depths of his soul, recognizing something familiar yet unknown in those dark, soulful eyes.

Lee Minho felt a jolt of recognition surge through him. Those eyes, he thought, as he continued to sing, each note infused with newfound fervor. They were the same eyes that had haunted his dreams, the ones he had glimpsed in passing at court gatherings and royal ceremonies.

The intensity of her gaze spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of the connection they shared, hidden beneath layers of duty and expectation. For a brief moment, their worlds collided, converging in a silent understanding that defied the boundaries of status and privilege.

As the song reached its crescendo, Minho poured his soul into each verse, his voice a reflection of the emotions swirling within him. In that dimly lit pub, amidst the curious stares and whispered rumors, he sang not just for the crowd, but for her – the princess who dared to venture beyond the confines of her gilded cage.

And as the final notes hung in the air, Minho held her gaze, a silent promise echoing between them. In that fleeting moment, he knew that their encounter was no mere coincidence, but the beginning of a journey fraught with challenges and obstacles, yet brimming with the possibility of a love that transcended time and expectation.

As Y/N hurriedly made her way through the bustling streets, her heart still resonating with the echoes of Minho's soulful melody, she felt a sudden tug on her arm. Instinctively, she tensed, ready to defend herself against any potential threat that lurked in the shadows.

But as she turned to face her assailant, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in disbelief. Standing before her was none other than Lee Minho himself, his expression a mixture of concern and determination.

"Please, forgive my intrusion," Minho spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "but I could not let you leave without knowing... without understanding."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, torn between the thrill of his proximity and the weight of the forbidden allure that bound them together. She searched his eyes, seeking answers to the questions that lay heavy on her heart.

"What is it that you seek?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, her resolve faltering in the face of his unwavering gaze.

Minho reached out, his touch gentle yet determined, his fingers brushing against her cheek with a tenderness that ignited a spark within her soul. "I seek only the truth," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity, "I am Lee Minho, your highness."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Lee Minho knelt before her, his words reverberating with a solemnity that stirred something deep within her soul. "Rise, Minho," she whispered urgently, her voice tinged with urgency. "Please, there's no need for formalities."

Minho obeyed, rising to his feet with a grace that belied the intensity of his emotions. His eyes searched hers, a silent plea for understanding lingering in their depths.

"We must be cautious," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the din of the street. "If they were to discover my true identity, it would spell disaster for us both."

Minho nodded, his expression tinged with understanding. "Minho," Y/N whispered, her voice laden with longing and vulnerability, "please, call me by my name."

Her plea hung in the air, a fragile thread connecting them across the vast expanse of uncertainty and fear. In that moment, she longed to shed the weight of her royal title, to revel in the simple intimacy of being seen and known for who she truly was.

Minho's eyes softened at her words, a tender smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Y/N" he murmured, the sound of her name a melody that resonated deep within his soul.

As they walked through the winding streets, Y/N could feel Minho's gaze burning into her back, his questions hanging heavy in the air like unspoken secrets. She quickened her pace, her heart racing with the weight of her own uncertainties.

"Why did you sneak out of the castle, Y/N?" Minho's voice broke through the silence, his tone tinged with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Y/N paused, her steps faltering for a moment as she struggled to find the words to explain the tangled web of emotions that had led her to this moment. "I needed to escape," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "To breathe, to feel alive... even if just for a fleeting moment."

Minho's brow furrowed in confusion, his gaze searching hers for answers that even she could not fully articulate. "But why now? What drove you to take such a risk?"

Y/N hesitated, her thoughts racing as she grappled with the weight of her own desires and fears. "The walls of the castle were closing in on me," she admitted, her voice tinged with sorrow. "I needed to remind myself of who I am... of the woman beneath the crown."

Minho listened intently as Y/N spoke of the burdens she carried as the future queen of her realm, the weight of duty and expectation pressing down upon her like a heavy cloak. Though he could not fully comprehend the intricacies of her position, he knew one thing for certain – he wanted to make her feel alive, to help her rediscover the essence of who she truly was.

With each step they took through the moonlit streets, Minho sought to unravel the layers of Y/N's identity, to peel back the facade of royalty and reveal the woman hidden beneath. He understood that her heart longed for freedom, for the simple joys of life untethered by the constraints of tradition and obligation.

And so, Minho took a firm grip on her wrist, Y/N allowed herself to be led through the labyrinthine streets until they emerged into the heart of the village, where a vibrant fair was in full swing. The air was alive with the tantalizing aroma of sizzling food, the melodic strains of music, and the infectious laughter of revelers lost in the moment.

As they stepped into the bustling square, Y/N's senses were overwhelmed by the kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that surrounded them. Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, casting playful shadows against the cobblestone streets, while vendors beckoned with trays of steaming delicacies and glittering trinkets.

Minho's eyes sparkled with mischief as he surveyed the lively scene, his smile infectious as he offered Y/N his hand, inviting her to join in the festivities. Without hesitation, she accepted, her heart pounding with excitement as they wove their way through the throng of people, their laughter mingling with the joyful cacophony of the crowd.

They sampled exotic dishes from far-off lands, their taste buds tingling with the flavors of adventure and discovery. They danced to the rhythm of the music, their bodies swaying in perfect harmony beneath the starlit sky. And amidst the chaos and revelry, they found a moment of peace, a respite from the demands of the world beyond.

For Y/N, it was a glimpse of the life she had always longed for – a life unfettered by the constraints of royalty, where she could revel in the simple pleasures of the present moment.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Y/N found solace in the clandestine meetings with Minho, each encounter a precious treasure hidden away from the prying eyes of the world. Sneaking out of the castle became a ritual, a secret escape into a world where titles and expectations held no sway, where she could simply be herself, free from the weight of her crown.

In Minho, she found not only a kindred spirit but a true friend – someone who saw beyond the facade of royalty and embraced her for the woman she truly was. Together, they laughed and talked, sharing dreams and secrets beneath the twinkling stars, their bond growing stronger with each stolen moment.

In Minho's company, Y/N discovered the beauty of simplicity, the joy of living in the present moment. Whether they were strolling through the bustling marketplace or sharing a quiet meal by the riverbank, every experience was imbued with a sense of wonder and possibility, a testament to the transformative power of love.

And amidst the laughter and the shared moments, Y/N felt something stirring deep within her heart – a flutter of emotion that defied rational explanation. Was it admiration? Affection? Perhaps even love? She dared not speak its name, afraid to confront the tumultuous sea of emotions that threatened to consume her fragile heart.

But in the quiet moments of solitude, as she lay awake beneath the cover of darkness, she allowed herself to entertain the possibility – the possibility that in Minho, she had found not only a friend but a soulmate, someone who understood her in a way no one else ever could.

And as she looked to the future, uncertain yet filled with promise, Y/N knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, she would face them with Minho by her side, their love a beacon of hope in a world shrouded by darkness. For in him, she had found not only friendship but the true essence of her own heart.

As the moon cast its silvery glow over the labyrinthine streets, Y/N ventured out into the night, her heart heavy with anticipation and longing. With each step, she searched every familiar corner, every hidden alcove, hoping to catch a glimpse of Minho's familiar figure amidst the shadows.

But the streets remained empty, devoid of his presence, and the silence echoed with the hollow ache of disappointment. She dared not speak to anyone, fearing the consequences of being recognized, of having her secret world exposed to the unforgiving light of day.

With a heavy heart, Y/N retraced her steps, her footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night. The weight of uncertainty hung heavy upon her shoulders, casting a shadow over the once-familiar landscape. And as she returned to the confines of the castle, a sense of loneliness enveloped her like a suffocating shroud, the emptiness of her heart echoing in the cavernous halls.

In the solitude of her chambers, Y/N allowed herself to succumb to the melancholy that threatened to consume her, her thoughts consumed by the absence of the one person who had come to mean so much to her. She wondered where he was, what had kept him from their clandestine rendezvous, and whether he was safe.

The very next day as Y/N made her way through the dimly lit corridors near the dungeon, the haunting melody of the prisoner's song echoed against the cold stone walls, tugging at the strings of her heart with an inexplicable urgency. Ignoring the curious glances of the guards, she pressed forward, driven by a sense of determination that burned bright within her chest.

Reaching the entrance to the prisoner holding area, Y/N issued a commanding order, her voice steady despite the tremor of uncertainty that lingered beneath the surface. "Leave us," she commanded, her words carrying the weight of authority.

The guards exchanged wary glances but obeyed, their footsteps echoing into the distance until only silence remained, broken only by the soft strains of the prisoner's song.

With each step she took, Y/N's heart pounded in anticipation, her pulse quickening with the knowledge that she was about to come face to face with the mysterious singer who had captured her attention so completely.

And then, she saw him – a solitary figure huddled in the darkness of his cell, his features obscured by shadows yet somehow familiar. As their eyes met, a shiver of recognition coursed through Y/N's veins, her breath catching in her throat at the realization of who stood before her.

"Princess," his voice was barely a whisper, filled with a mixture of reverence and disbelief.

Y/N's heart quickened as she stepped closer to the cell, the dim torchlight flickering against the cold stone walls. "Minho," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the dungeon.

Lee Minho stood up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the sudden presence of light. His rugged features softened as he gazed at the princess standing before him, her regal demeanor contrasting with the darkness surrounding them.

"Princess, what are you doing here?" Minho's voice was hoarse, filled with a mixture of surprise and concern.

Y/N reached through the iron bars, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the rough surface. "What are YOU doing here?!" Y/N's voice trembled with a mixture of concern and disbelief as she confronted Minho through the iron bars. Her heart raced with a myriad of emotions, each one vying for dominance in the tumultuous sea of her thoughts.

Minho's expression softened, a flicker of sadness dancing in his eyes as he met Y/N's gaze. "I... I had no choice," he confessed, his voice heavy with regret. "I was caught trying to enter the castle grounds without permission. They saw me as a threat, a trespasser in their world."

Y/N's heart ached at the pain in his voice, the weight of his words sinking deep into her soul. "But why, Minho?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion and desperation. "Why would you risk everything to come here?"

Minho's gaze met Y/N's, his eyes reflecting the tumult of emotions swirling within his soul. "Because I couldn't bear to be apart from you," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "Every moment without you feels like an eternity, every heartbeat a reminder of the void you've left in my life."

Minho watched in astonishment as Y/N, the princess, rose to her feet with a newfound sense of determination, her regal presence commanding the attention of all who stood witness to the scene unfolding before them. In that moment, he saw her in a different light – not just as the object of his affection, but as a leader, a force to be reckoned with.

With unwavering resolve, Y/N turned to the guards, her voice ringing out with authority. "Release him," she commanded, her words carrying the weight of her station.

The guards hesitated, their eyes flickering between the princess and the prisoner, uncertainty etched upon their faces. But they knew better than to defy her direct order, and with a solemn nod, they set to work unlocking the heavy iron bars that had held Minho captive.

As Minho stepped into the cool night air, his heart heavy with the weight of their parting, Y/N remained standing in the dimly lit dungeon, her gaze fixed upon the empty cell that had once held the key to her heart. In that moment, she felt a sense of resolve wash over her, a determination to defy the odds and carve out a future where their love could thrive.

With unwavering determination, she whispered softly to Minho's retreating figure, her voice barely above a whisper yet filled with conviction. "Go," she urged, her words carrying the weight of her resolve. "Find sanctuary beyond these walls, and know that I will find a way for us to be together."

Minho turned back, his eyes widening in disbelief at the promise that hung in the air between them. In Y/N's unwavering gaze, he saw the reflection of his own hopes and dreams, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatened to engulf them both.

With a silent nod of gratitude, Minho disappeared into the shadows, his heart filled with renewed hope and determination. For in Y/N's whispered vow, he found the promise of a future where their love could flourish, unfettered by the constraints of duty and expectation.

As days turned into weeks, Minho's heart grew heavy with each passing moment of silence from the princess. Despite the whispered promises and vows of devotion, he couldn't shake the gnawing sense of unease that lingered at the edges of his consciousness. The absence of communication weighed heavily upon him, casting a shadow over his hopes for their future together.

Meanwhile, within the walls of the castle, rumors began to swirl like tendrils of smoke, carrying whispers of the princess's forbidden love. With each passing day, the whispers grew louder, the truth of Y/N's affection for a commoner spreading like wildfire through the halls of power.

As the rumors reached the king's ears, his rage knew no bounds. His daughter, the princess, the future queen of the realm, entangled in a romance with a mere commoner – it was a betrayal of the highest order, a stain upon the honor of the royal family.

Fueled by fury and righteous indignation, the king's wrath knew no bounds. He raged against the injustice of it all, his mind consumed by visions of betrayal and defiance. The very thought of his daughter consorting with a commoner filled him with a sense of profound betrayal, a wound that cut deeper than any sword.

Alone in the grand chamber, Y/N stood before her father, the king, her heart heavy with the weight of his disappointment and fury. The air crackled with tension, the echoes of his rage reverberating against the ornate walls adorned with symbols of their noble lineage.

Her father's voice boomed through the chamber, each word a thunderous indictment of her actions, a condemnation of the love that had led her astray. "You have brought disgrace upon our family name," he roared, his voice laced with anger and betrayal. "To consort with a commoner, to forsake your duty as a princess – it is a betrayal of the highest order."

Y/N stood in silence, her gaze fixed upon the floor, her heart heavy with the weight of his words. She had known that defying her father's wishes would come with consequences, but she had never imagined the depth of his fury, the extent of his disappointment.

As the king's tirade continued, Y/N felt a surge of defiance rising within her, a quiet resolve to stand firm in the face of adversity. She would not apologize for following her heart, for daring to love someone who saw her for who she truly was, beyond the trappings of royalty and duty.

With a quiet resolve, she met her father's gaze, her eyes burning with a fire that refused to be extinguished. "Father," she began, her voice steady despite the tremor of fear that lingered beneath the surface. "I cannot deny the depth of my feelings. I cannot forsake the one who has captured my heart, even if it means defying your wishes."

The king's eyes flashed with fury, his expression darkening with anger at her defiance. "You dare to defy me, your own father, your king?" he thundered, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and outrage. "Know this, daughter – if you dare to see this commoner again, I will have him executed without hesitation."

Y/N's heart clenched at the weight of his words, the enormity of his threat looming large in her mind. She knew that to defy him would mean risking everything – not only her own life but the life of the man she loved.

And yet, even as she stood on the precipice of uncertainty, she knew that she could not turn her back on Minho, could not abandon the one who had shown her the true meaning of love and acceptance. For in his arms, she had found sanctuary, a refuge from the storm that raged within her soul.

With a silent vow, Y/N braced herself for the trials that lay ahead, knowing that no matter the challenges they faced, she and Minho would face them together, united in their love and unwavering in their resolve. And as she turned to leave the chamber, her heart heavy with the weight of their forbidden love, she knew that their bond would endure, steadfast and unyielding, bound by the unbreakable ties of their hearts.

Under the cover of darkness, Y/N stole away from the castle, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision. In the quiet stillness of the night, she left behind the only life she had ever known, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridors like whispers of a farewell.

With each step, the weight of her father's threats pressed down upon her, a suffocating burden that threatened to consume her spirit. The thought of a life without Minho, without the freedom to love and be loved, filled her with a profound sense of despair.

And so, with trembling hands and a resolve born of desperation, Y/N penned a letter, her words a silent testament to the depth of her anguish. In it, she confessed her decision to end her own life, to escape the tyranny of her father's wrath and find peace in the quiet embrace of death.

Leaving the letter behind as a silent farewell, Y/N fled into the night, her heart heavy with grief yet kept by a glimmer of hope. With nothing but the clothes on her back and a small pouch of coins clutched tightly in her hand, she set out into the unknown, determined to carve out a new life for herself, far from the shadows of the past.

As the first light of dawn broke upon the horizon, Y/N disappeared into the embrace of the night, her fate unknown, her heart aching with the weight of her decision. And as she vanished into the depths of the unknown, she knew that her journey was just beginning – a journey fraught with peril and uncertainty, yet filled with the promise of redemption and renewal.

As Y/N slipped through the quiet streets, her heart pounding with each step, she knew that her destination lay in the arms of the one she loved. With every passing moment, the weight of her decision pressed down upon her, a heavy burden that threatened to crush her spirit.

And then, as she reached the familiar threshold of Minho's dwelling, her heart leaped with anticipation, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of him standing before her. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, the world fading away until only the two of them remained, bound by the invisible threads of fate and forbidden love.

Minho's eyes widened in disbelief as he beheld the vision before him, his heart stuttering in his chest at the sight of Y/N standing there, her presence a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatened to engulf them both. He couldn't believe his eyes, couldn't fathom the reality of her standing there before him, her beauty illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight.

Unable to speak, unable to move, Minho stood rooted to the spot, his gaze locked with hers in a silent exchange of longing and desperation. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the echo of their hearts beating as one, the promise of a love that defied the boundaries of time and circumstance.

And as Y/N stepped forward, her hand outstretched in silent invitation, Minho knew that this was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment when their love would transcend the trials and tribulations that had threatened to tear them apart. With trembling hands, he reached out to her, his fingers intertwining with hers in a silent vow of solidarity and devotion.

In the throes of emotion, Minho's heart pulsed with an urgency he couldn't contain. With a surge of longing and determination, he closed the distance between them, his hand tenderly cupping Y/N's cheek as he drew her closer.

In a moment of pure desperation and unbridled passion, their lips met in a fervent kiss, a culmination of all the longing and yearning that had simmered between them for so long. It was a kiss filled with the intensity of their love, a silent declaration of their unwavering commitment to each other.

In that fleeting instant, time seemed to stand still, the world falling away as they lost themselves in the intoxicating embrace of each other's lips. It was a kiss born of desperation and longing, a testament to the depth of their connection and the power of their love.

And as they finally pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, their eyes met in a silent exchange of understanding and devotion. In that moment, amidst the quiet intimacy of their shared embrace, Minho and Y/N knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, they would face them together, bound by the unbreakable bond of their love.

As Y/N revealed her plans to Minho, her words hung heavy in the air, each syllable carrying the weight of her decision. With trembling hands, she showed him the sack of coins, a symbol of their newfound freedom, a chance to start anew in a world untainted by the constraints of royalty.

As she spoke of her letter, her voice quivered with emotion, the weight of her words a stark reminder of the sacrifices she had made to be with him. "I am dead to my royal life," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "But with you, Minho, I am alive in ways I never thought possible."

Minho's heart swelled with a mixture of awe and disbelief, his mind reeling at the magnitude of her sacrifice. To leave behind everything she had ever known, to forsake her birthright in pursuit of a love that defied the boundaries of tradition and expectation – it was a testament to the depth of her devotion, a testament to the power of their love.

In that moment, amidst the quiet intimacy of their shared revelation, Minho knew that he had found not only a lover but a kindred spirit, a soulmate who understood the true essence of his being. With tears glistening in his eyes, he reached out to Y/N, his fingers brushing against her cheek in a silent gesture of solidarity and acceptance.

"Together, we will forge a new path," he vowed, his voice tinged with reverence and gratitude. "A path free from the shackles of our past, free to love and be loved without fear or reservation."

With a sense of urgency driving his every movement, Minho hurried to gather the few possessions he had accumulated over the years. His hands moved with purpose as he packed the essentials into a bag, his mind focused on the task at hand – to ensure that they had everything they needed for their journey into the unknown.

As he secured the last item into the bag, Minho's heart swelled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. This was it – the moment they had been waiting for, the chance to leave behind the confines of their old lives and embark on a new adventure together.

With a sense of determination coursing through his veins, Minho led their horse to where Y/N stood waiting, her eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. Gently, he helped her onto the horse, his hands steady as he settled himself behind her, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other.

As they checked to ensure that they had everything they needed, Minho felt a surge of excitement building within him. They were leaving behind the familiar comforts of home, venturing into the great unknown with nothing but each other to guide them.

With a silent nod of reassurance, Minho urged the horse forward, their journey unfolding before them like a tapestry waiting to be woven. And as they rode off into the distance, their hearts filled with hope and determination, they knew that no matter what lay ahead, they would face it together, united in their love and unwavering in their resolve.

As they rode away from the village, Minho and Y/N stole one last glance over their shoulders, their eyes lingering on the familiar sights of the world they were leaving behind. The village, with its winding streets and bustling marketplace, seemed to shimmer in the fading light of dusk, a testament to the life they had known, the life they were leaving behind.

And there, in the distance, loomed the imposing silhouette of the castle, its turrets reaching toward the sky like sentinels guarding the secrets of the past. For Y/N, it was a symbol of duty and tradition, a reminder of the life she had been born into but could no longer abide.

But as they rode further and further away, the castle and the village began to fade into the distance, their outlines blurred by the passage of time and the promise of a new beginning. In that moment, amidst the quiet stillness of the evening, Minho and Y/N knew that they were leaving behind more than just a place – they were leaving behind the constraints of their old lives, the expectations that had bound them for so long.

With each passing moment, the horizon stretched out before them, a vast expanse of possibility and adventure waiting to be explored. And as they rode into the unknown, their hearts filled with hope and anticipation, they knew that no matter what lay ahead, they would face it together, united in their love and unwavering in their resolve.

For in each other's arms, they had found the courage to defy the odds, to carve out a future that was uniquely their own. And as they disappeared into the fading light of the evening, their hearts ablaze with the promise of tomorrow, they knew that their love would be the guiding light that led them through the darkness, a beacon of hope in a world filled with uncertainty.

76 notes · View notes

fontainefanatic · 2 months

Text

Even Ice Melts | Chapter One

A/N - Hey there! This is my first time writing for Genshin Impact, and thats what this blog is gonna be, starting with this series. I'll most likely eventually create a masterlist and taglist if this gains traction, but in the meanwhile, enjoy!

Taglist | Masterlist |Chapter Two

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

Despite having a female Archon, the Ton of Fontain, or at least the higher society of Lords and Ladies, remained as sexist as could be. I knew this, the other women knew this, hell even the Hydro herself knew it. So, when my father announced his retirement and promptly announced that my hand was up for marriage, I was unsurprised.

I mean, after all, how was a little lady like me- despite my advanced training and having already done so- supposed to take over his company? Surely I needed a man, no, a lord to guide me in this troublesome endeavor of running the most successful food production companies in Fontaine.

That's what brought me here. To this eerily lit elevator of rusted metal descending beneath the depths of the Hydro nation. The ever-illusive Fortress of Meropide. Truth be told, I’m surprised that Neuvillette allowed me to go to the Fortress, but something about owing my family a favor let me slip through the secure cracks of this place.

Two guards greeted me once I arrived at the bottom of my journey, and a short ferry ride later I was standing in front of a desk. A rather grumpy looking lady looked up at me from her seat. “Name?” She asked, barely glancing at me before filing papers on her desk.

“Oh, I’m not here because… I’m here to visit Duke Wriothesley.” I responded as she looked up at me, abandoning the papers beneath her. Her eyes glanced at the two guards behind me who confirmed my statement.

She rolled her eyes before groaning, “Fine. Down that hallway and to the right. The center building, you can’t miss it.” She reluctantly instructed as I gave a brief nod of thanks before setting off on my way.

The stares and whispers of inmates were eerie as I approached the… office? Two guards stood outside of the doors and looked at me as I approached. “I’m here to see the Duke.” I stated as I stopped before the door. The two guards looked at one another, almost uncertain as they opened the doors to me.

I wasn’t expecting to be greeted to an empty room, spare the spiral staircase that followed the circular room and a few boxes here and there. The guards that were my escorts had decided to wait outside, so the doors closed behind me and left me alone in the room. “I thought I told you to knock.” A male voice called from the second story.

I bit my cheek in thought before responding, “You never told me anything.” I called back and was met with silence for a moment. I debated going up the stairs, but instead a man appeared at the top. Duke Wriothesley. I had seen him before, albeit briefly, at certain social gatherings, but he looked more disheveled at his place of work. His shirt unbuttoned at the top, a loose fitting tie, his hair a mess, and his blazer being swapped out for a black and red coat lined with fur.

He looked me over for a moment. “You’re not a convict.” He declared, perking an eyebrow. “And you’re not a guard either. What are you doing here?” He questioned, his icy blue eyes almost penetrating a hole through me.

Almost. “Monsieur Neuvillette sent me.” I half lied as he stared at me unimpressed. “Well, he let me down here. Truth be told, I’m here to speak to you, your grace.” I curtsied formally as this seemed to pique his interest.

He folded his arms and looked interested. “Well, then by all means, come up and let’s talk.” He motioned to the bottom of the staircase before heading up himself. I walked up to find an office, and the Duke with his back turned to what looked like a makeshift bar cart behind his desk.

“Do you drink tea?” He asked, reminding me of the package that was held within my coat’s pocket. I nodded as he made a pot. He turned around, deciding it had steeped enough as he poured a cup for both me and himself before sitting down.

He brought the porcelain up to his lips, taking a sip before smiling to himself as he looked from the cup at me. “So, what’d you want to meet about?” he asked, this time his tone was far less interrogative.

I huffed a small laugh before grinning and taking a sip of my tea, all in attempts to reassure myself. “As I’m sure you know, or maybe you don’t,” I commented before placing my tea cup back onto the table, his eyes not moving from mine, “My hand is up for marriage. While I understand that you are one of Fontaine’s top…” I trailed off in thought, biting my cheek as I searched for the word.

“Bachelors?” He offered before taking another drink from his porcelain teacup.

I met his smirk with my own smile. “Yes.” I nodded, picking up my own drink but not bringing it to my lips, “You aren’t exactly in the best of favor with the ladies and lords of Ton.” I informed him as he nodded with a certain admittance on his face.

“So, why are you here then?” Wriothesley asked, not necessarily in a rude tone, but rather defensive without aggression. “I’m not exactly looking to repair that relationship.” He spoke, his eyes now holding a certain fire to them.

I took this time to sip my tea and spoke as the ceramic left my lips, “I’m aware. Don’t get me wrong, I understand the people of the court are not exactly the… easiest… to get along with, however they do hold a certain power here, in Fontaine.” I nodded, looking from the brown liquid to the Duke.

His icy eyes not leaving mine for even a moment. “To put it plainly, they don’t like you.” I admitted as he took in the information without shock. Or without anything, really, he had been stoic since his last speech. “They haven’t made any plans yet, but there has been talk about finding a new Duke of Meropide, one that may observe their traditions.”

The man before me folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, looking at me with a certain amusement. “So, that’s why I’m here. To put it plainly, I hate the other Lords that are vying for my hand in marriage, and you need to be in favor of the Ton.” I spoke firmly, placing my teacup on the table as if it was the final piece in a game of chess.

He puffed out a small laugh. “You’re here because you want me to marry you?” He asked, a playful smile now evident on his face.

“I��m here because you’re the best option. This can be a mutually beneficial affair.” His smile didn’t leave his face as he drank his tea. “As I’m sure you know, my hand is only up for marriage because my father is retiring. That leaves me to take over the company. I see no reason why Cafe Lutece cannot have a partnership with the Fortress, given your welfare meals are… Well, we can supply you with better ingredients at least.” I informed as he seemingly thought it over.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but typically the Lord is the one who will take over the company, what’s to stop me from doing that?” He posed, setting his teacup down.

“You seem happily occupied here in your fortress.” I commented, looking at the walls around me before setting my eyes on his, the smile dropping from my face. “But make no mistake. If you decide to take me up on my offer, and take advantage of me, I have no problem with saying what I need to in order for the Ton to turn on you.” I spoke coldly as Wriothesley’s happiness seemed to fade, being replaced with the Duke’s coldness and strength.

He narrowed his eyes at me as I smiled at him. “Relax, your grace.” I commented, picking up my teacup before taking a sip. “You asked me what I’d do if you’d betray this deal. I have no intention of doing any of this.”

He takes a moment to think before going to speak, “I-” He was interrupted by the door downstairs closing. We both looked to the stairwell and saw a Melusine. Neuvillette told me about her, if I remember correctly her name is- “Sigewinne.” Wriothesley addressed her.

The melusine looked surprised to see me, as she moved her startled gaze from me to Wriothesley. “I can come back at a later time.” She responded as I stood up, causing the pair to turn to me.

“No need, I was just taking my leave.” I spoke before grabbing the sticker book in my coat pocket. “This is for you.” I spoke, handing the book to the melusine, much to the Duke’s dismay.

She smiled up at me. “Thank you.” Sigewinne then turned to the Duke, “I like her.”

Wriothesley lifted his eyebrows in amusement, nodding. I then turned towards him, pulling out the neatly wrapped purple package that had been sitting in my pocket as well, placing the item on his desk. He looked up at me, confused as a small smirk held place on his face. “What’s this?”

“Well, I figured if I wanted you in my favor, I’d come down bearing gifts, your grace.” I smirked back as he responded with ease.

“Call me Wriothesley.”

“Alright then, Wriothesley.” I tested the new word on my tongue, “This is a package of Sakura Blossom Tea from the Grand Narukami Shrine in Inazuma. The best you’ll find on the market.” I nodded, before walking to the staircase.

“Goodbye Wriothesley, and do think about my offer.” I smiled as he gave a nod and I left, the doors closing behind me.

<*>

“Who was that?” Sigewinne asked, placing the drink she had made for Wriothesley on his desk, still staring at the spot where the woman once stood.

Wriothesly didn’t look up from where he sat, staring at the package while he smiled. “My future wife.”

#genshin #impact #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #fontaine #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriotheslay #fortress of meropide #meropide #duke of meropide #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x you #wriothesley genshin #genshin fontaine

124 notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 3 months

Note

no wait i need more bartender!jj right NEOW! who’s making the first move?? when do you finally hook up?? when is the inevitable event of jj jumping the bar to kick some drunk motherfucker out because he won’t leave you alone?? I NEED IT

hmm, i need to think about when the first hook up is— but as for that last part? lord 🙀

🧸ྀི𐙚🤍⋆˙

he’d have watched the entire interaction from the start, and at first — he’s all rolled eyes and tongue in cheek because he thinks you’re entertaining this idiot. it’s only after a little while, he notices your uncomfortable smile and glances to your friend, trying to gain her attention, eyes screaming ‘help’ but the ‘help’ in question is too drunk and unbothered, happily chatting away to the objectively better looking guy friend who came to the bar with the creep. some friend she was.

the guy kept leaning in, and jj was actively avoiding customers to keep an eye on the scene, scrubbing over that same pristine slab of wooden bar to being able to watch over at you— and he’s seething. he had to do something, right? he watches you push him away, but he advances anyway — and jj just can’t help himself, swinging his legs over the bar and bolting over, yanking the man off you and throwing him to the ground with strength he didn’t actually know he fully harboured.

“yeah times up buddy, this— this right here?” jj gestures to you, “is never gonna happen. so go… creep on someone else somewhere far away from here.”

“dude you’re a cockblock.” the guy gets up, and goes to make a shove at jj, who only shoves him back ten times harder, sending him flying. the security guards finally open their eyes and start to approach, and the creep knows he’s outnumbered.

“dont let me see you back here again douchebag, i’ll rip your fuckin’ face off and feed it to you.” jj shoo’s him away before turning back to you, a little breathless and red cheeked. “sorr— yeah that was kinda unprofessional m’sorry bout that, are you okay? did he— was he—”

“i’m okay, thank you jj— he’s been bothering me for ages.” you furrowed your brows gratefully, all cute and helpless. the strong urge to protect you forever bloomed in jj’s chest and he brought his hand up, rubbing at it.

“nah yeah— uh, you’re good. i should probably go back to… yeah.” he juts a thumb in the direction of the bar, walking backwards awkwardly, like the whole ordeal had just caught up with him.

“wait!” you grin, before pulling a biro out of your little shoulder bag and scribbling something down on a napkin. “lemme buy you lunch as a thank you. you’re… a bartender, not a security guard.”

“that i am.” he stares dumbfounded at the floppy yellow napkin with your number scrawled across it now in his hand. “you for real?” there’s a child-like hopeful gleam to his eye that makes you grin, uncomfortable experience only two minutes prior forgotten.

“unless you hate lunch, then you can forget all about this.” you shrug shyly, batting your lashes. how could he say no to that?

he smirks, waving the napkin at you before stuffing it into his pocket. “most important meal of the day.” he starts to walk backwards towards the bar once more, and you beam in relief, watching him head back to do his job.

🧸ྀི𐙚🤍⋆˙

#anon #jj maybank prompt #bartender!jj

123 notes · View notes

green-eyedfirework · 4 days

Text

Slade isn’t expecting visitors today, so he’s annoyed that the sound of footsteps interrupts his book. The curtains are drawn wide to let in the sunlight, and he doesn’t bother getting off the chair. As one of Talia’s best gladiators, he can get away with a lot more than anyone else. He’s earned enough to buy his freedom ten times over, and Talia knows that the only reason he’s here is because he wants to be here.

It’s in her best interests to keep him sweet. A lesson Ra’s never learned.

“Slade,” she calls out before she fully steps into view, wearing a low-cut dress typical of high class fashion and yet bristling with knives, “I’ve brought a gift.”

“I wasn’t aware I was expecting one,” Slade says, still in his seat. There are two guards with her in addition to her personal shadow, and they’re holding someone upright between them.

“This was one a long time in waiting,” Talia smiles, and beckons the guards forward. It takes a long time to recognize the stumbling figure between them—clad in the typical revealing silks of a bedslave, bandages wound around their torso and half across their face, ruffling dark hair. Their head is bowed, golden cuffs around their wrists, but it isn’t until Slade spots the blue brooch clipping the silks to the unassuming black collar that he realizes who this is.

Nightwing. Richard Grayson. Up until recently, one of the Arena’s favorite gladiators. And the man that killed Slade’s son.

He doesn’t realize he’s on his feet until Talia’s smile widens. He ignores her, and stares at Grayson. The man is gaunt where he was once gleaming, a golden young gladiator now gray and exhausted and faintly trembling. The outline of his collarbones is starkly visible, as are the dark shadows around his visible eye. Grayson lifts his head to meet Slade’s gaze, expression cool and blank, and there’s no fire in that startlingly blue eye.

He looks like someone walking to their executioner.

“And what’s the gift?” Slade asks sharply. He heard of Grayson’s loss weeks ago, a startling upset with one of Talia’s young gladiators, and the Arena had voted to spare him. He assumed that Talia would’ve used Grayson in one of the games she was always playing to catch Lord Wayne’s attention, not bring him here.

To the first person in the country who wanted to tear him apart.

Talia smiles, and gestures to Grayson. There’s a flicker of something in Grayson’s eye that fades to blankness. It isn’t quite resignation or quiet placidity. It’s a mask, and Slade’s itching to tear it off his face.

“He’s yours,” she says. For what? For a night, a day, a week, a fuck, a beating, a—“to do with whatever you wish. Keep him or kill him, I do not care. His fate is yours.”

Slade blinks. This time, the fracture across Grayson’s mask spreads wider before it’s suppressed. Before Slade can fully understand what’s going on, his cell door is opened and Grayson is none-too-gently shoved inside.

“Have fun,” Talia laughs, smirking at Grayson before she walks away, “Goodbye, Richard.”

Grayson doesn’t say a word. Soon, the guards and Talia are beyond hearing, and the heavy weight of the silence is the only thing there. Silence, and Slade staring at the single person he’s wanted to tear apart for years.

He takes a step forward. Grayson presses back against the bars, clearly trembling now, expression fighting to be blank but panic too hard to fully conceal. He’s trapped in a corner and there’s nowhere to go and Slade stalks forward with all the time in the world.

“Nothing to say?” Slade asks, because he’s been waiting for this moment for so long, stoking the fires of his vengeance year after year, waiting for Wayne to finally buckle and schedule a fight between them, and in his dreams, Nightwing turns to Icarus, the boy that flew too close to the sun. And Nightwing dies, red spilling across the sands.

Now it looks like the wax wings burned on the way off but didn’t manage to take him with it, and Grayson’s thinner than he usually is, lost muscle and new scars and no matter how fiercely he tries to manage his expression, there’s a brightness he can’t quite mimic.

“Is there anything to say?” Grayson asks, voice hoarse, “You’re going to kill me. I don’t have a speech for pretty last words.” Defiant but weary.

This is a pale imitation of the golden, gleaming young gladiator that raised bloody dual swords to the roar of an Arena, triumphant over his son’s corpse, and frustration abruptly washes over Slade.

“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” Slade growls, and he’s close enough to wrap a hand around Grayson’s throat and yank him away from the bars. “Do you really think that I’ve been dreaming of killing you for years only to give you the mercy of a quick death?”

Grayson does attempt to defend himself, long-ingrained fighting instincts unable to let him truly surrender, no matter how much resignation he feigns, but Slade flings him at the floor to avoid the retaliatory swipe.

That Grayson falls is the first surprise. The man has preternatural grace. Slade quickly calculates that the bandages across his right eye are the culprit, as are whatever injuries he’s hiding, but the thought is pushed aside when Grayson hits the ground.

Because he screams, actually, open-mouthed, screams, voice cracking in a way that indicates precisely why it’s so hoarse, and immediately rolls over to curl up on his side, gasping and shaking and nearly clawing at the floor.

That isn’t a minor injury. That is—

Slade’s not an idiot, not a mindless brute tearing people apart because he knows nothing else, no matter how much the impression suits him. He used to be in the military, used to command, used to strategize, and he’s spent years watching lords and ladies play their games.

It’s a fact that Grayson displeased Talia in some way, she would’ve given him back to Wayne otherwise. Dropping him in Slade’s lap means Grayson’s only coming out of the cell as a bloody ruin. So Talia got her money’s worth, sold Grayson to everyone that’s wanted a piece of the charming young gladiator, until—until someone damaged him so badly that Talia wouldn’t even try putting him back together.

Slade grabs that ridiculous brooch and uses it to lift Grayson off the floor. Grayson’s struggles are weak, and they cut out with a choked sound when Slade drops him on the bed. Slade finds the nearest knife.

Grayson sees the light glinting off the blade, reflected in his too-wide blue eye, and squeezes that eye shut. Stops breathing too.

Slade carefully slides the knife under the bandages and slices them all free.

The outer layer comes unwrapped easily, the cloth wrapped around Grayson’s head to keep it in place. The second layer is more packed together, but comes undone with a few more cuts. It’s the third layer that’s plastered to Grayson’s skin, and Grayson starts making those quiet sounds again, as if he’s trying not to shout.

It comes off, tugging at every inch of Grayson’s skin, to reveal a brilliantly red slash extending from just below Grayson’s right cheekbone to disappear into his hairline. In its path lies an empty eye socket.

One visible blue eye stares at him, glimmering and wide.

When Slade places the knife right under it, he gets the first true glimpse of terror.

~#~

Grayson is sitting on the edge of the bed by the time Slade steps through the curtain, a book in one hand but clearly alert. Aware of how long gladiatorial training takes, aware that Slade is back too soon, wary and—

His entire face brightens when their visitor steps past Slade. Any thought Slade had of keeping himself between the two is thrown out the window when Grayson pushes himself upright and nearly throws himself at Hood with a cry of “Jaybird!”

Hood catches him and clutches him close, spilling a long string of half-choked apologies, and now Slade’s curiosity is burning. Hood is murmuring “sorry,” over and over and over again, and Grayson is shushing him, and there’s a familiarity there that Slade hadn’t expected. Sure, he knows that Hood was trained alongside Grayson, before he went out to a match he wasn’t prepared for and became Talia’s, but Hood’s bitterness for his former master and all Wayne’s gladiators is fairly well known.

Until now.

“It’s okay,” Grayson finally says loudly, squeezing Hood tightly in a hug, “It’s okay, Jay, it’s not your fault, and I’m fine, I’m okay.”

Well, that was a lie. Hood clearly knows it as well because he disentangles enough to look Grayson in the face—and blanches. “What happened?” he says quietly, cupping the side of Grayson’s face that’s still bandaged, “Your face—your eye—” Quick as a flash, Hood turns on Slade with a snarl, “What did you do to him, you bastard—”

“Jason, stop!” Grayson gets between them, his back to Slade, holding Hood’s shoulders, “Slade didn’t do anything to me, calm down.”

The light in Hood’s eyes is a little less manic when his gaze drops to Grayson. “If it wasn’t him, then who?” Hood snaps. Grayson doesn’t immediately answer. “Dick.”

Slade crosses his arms and waits. Grayson didn’t tell him the full story, but it’s easy—“Sionis,” Grayson exhales.

Enough to guess.

Hood’s face runs a full gamut of emotions in half a minute. “Talia’s blacklisted Roman,” Hood says slowly, “That because of you?”

Grayson makes a weak smile and shrugs, “Difficult to do business with a man that insists on destroying your things.”

“Fucking hell, Dick,” Hood curses roundly, “Why the fuck—you can’t—stop trying to save me!”

The last one comes out as a shout, and far too loud. Grayson’s pressed his lips in a thin line, Hood’s eyes are flickering, and the silence is heavy and tense.

Both of them flick a glance towards Slade. “Don’t stop on my account,” he says mildly, “This is the most entertainment I’ve gotten all month.”

“Can we get a moment?” Hood asks, on the verge of rudeness.

“You paid for a visit,” Slade points out, “Not privacy.”

Grayson steps smoothly in front before Hood can retort, and asks quietly, “Can we purchase privacy then?”

Slade flicks a glance at Hood, who’s nearly vibrating in place, and Grayson, tense and desperate, and the way their hands are locked together, firm and tight. He pushes off the wall and heads for the curtain, “Fine.”

“How much?” Hood calls out.

Slade smirks before he lets the curtain close behind him, “You get to find out.”

He ends up waiting outside the cell, absently sharpening a knife, hearing a low murmur too quiet to make out distinct words. At one point, Hood’s voice rises into a tirade about Grayson’s intelligence and common sense, but it’s quickly hushed. It’s close to the half hour when Hood comes stomping out.

“Well?” Hood crosses his arms, “What’s the price?”

Slade arches an eyebrow, “You’re not the one who has to pay.”

For a moment, he thinks Hood’s going to punch him. The younger gladiator squeezes his hands into fists and his glare is vicious enough to set something on fire. “If you hurt him—”

“What, Hood?” Slade cuts him off, “What will you do? You can’t stop me, and Talia won’t stop me, so explain to me how exactly you propose to protect him?” Hood is vibrating in place, a murderous statue. “If you threaten me again, I won’t be so obliging to the next deal you want to make.”

The paleness is from fury and fear both, and Hood keeps his mouth shut as he roughly stomps past Slade. Slade watches him go until his footsteps stop sounding, and then heads back inside.

Grayson is waiting for him, again sitting on the bed, hands crossed in his lap, gaze fixed on Slade. “What is the price?” he asks quietly. Evenly, for all that he’s tense and clearly scared.

“Answer some questions,” Slade says, taking the chair, “Honestly.”

Grayson looks suspicious. “What questions?”

“What did Hood mean when he told you to stop trying to save him?”

Grayson purses his lips but deflates, leaning back, clearly resigned. “It’s not really a secret,” he sighs, “I threw the match.”

It takes a second for Slade to comprehend. “You threw it,” he repeats, “You threw the match.”

Grayson shoots him a half-irritated look, “I wasn’t going to kill Jay.” Something crosses over his face, a flicker of the death that still hangs between them, the dead boy that Slade wants to avenge. “And I—I knew they wouldn’t vote for my death,” Grayson says quietly, “Jay—I couldn’t take that risk.”

On the surface of it, it makes sense—Grayson’s made a name for himself, been pretty and charming at every sponsor that flits his way, there’s no way they’d let him die without extracting their pound of flesh.

“And Sionis?” Slade asks.

At this, Grayson’s face twists. His gaze drops, and Slade doesn’t know if he’s doing it consciously, but his hair drifts over the bandages, as if to conceal it. “Sionis—has his preferences.”

“And Talia whores out the gladiators that aren’t doing well.”

Grayson’s expression twists further. “Unless she had reason to doubt his self-restraint,” he says quietly, and Slade can see it. Can see Grayson provoking Sionis until the man lashed out with a wound too egregious to ignore. Lashings, brutality, blood and pain? Fine, when it could all be concealed under shifting silks, and everyone wanted scars on a gladiator.

But a missing eye on one of the Arena’s prettiest warriors? No, even Talia al Ghul, with all her animosity, couldn’t ignore that that was a step too far.

“Regardless of whether or not it worked, you had to know she would kill you for it,” Slade says.

Grayson doesn’t look him in the eye when he responds, “Talia was clear on my eventual fate from the very first day.”

Slade blinks. With that interesting piece of information, Grayson shifts up the bed, until he can lean against the wall, and cracks open his book. He doesn’t say anything else.

#my snippets #sladick #gladiator au #mutilation #prisoner

46 notes · View notes

telleroftime · 1 year

Text

Little Melody ||| Bowser x Reader

King Bowser struggles with a certain part of a composition when playing on his piano. You, his captive, chime in with a chord suggestion that ends up working.

———————————————

Pairing: Bowser x Gender Neutral ! Reader

Relationship: Platonic

Tone: Gen

Word Count: 2.8k

Bowser Masterlist

———————————————

Being held captive for ransom was certainly an experience, especially when the person kidnapping you was most definitely not penurious.

From the towering doors edged with polished silver - the surface of which was decorated with engravings depicting bones and beasts and fire - to the cascading walls of glowing lava that had to be suspended using tedious magic, the castle you were taken into was truly quite fascinating. The architecture was different from your home, making you feel like a helpless little mouse trapped in a giant's den instead of a spark of musical might that kept you alive. Everything was plus sized. The ceilings reached too high. The corridors were too long. But there was less fear behind the anxiety blooming in your chest and more so a sense of wonder. This place was different, inspiring almost.

And, if the outward appearance wasn't enough to settle that, the stark disparity between court ethics made the slight culture shock that more obvious. There were no ladies in elegant garb wandering in search of rich lords and famous musicians. The castle staff was kept to a minimum of a few Shy Guys dusting random corners instead of bustling maids and palace servants. There were no princes or princesses causing immediate havok amongst the stationed guards. The court was quiet. Too quiet.

It was a silence that did not falter even as you were led towards the throne room during your first few days there. You could remember the sound of your dark chains as they clanged against one another, their heavy alloy creating minimal discomfort, surprisingly not irritating the skin of your wrists at all. With the two magikoopas keeping you walking - one in front and one behind - you had to steel yourself before you could actually come face to face with your kidnapper.

Your steps echoed loudly down the halls. One step after the other, like walking to the set rushed pace of a metronome, you forced yourself to remain confident. You were more than aware of the hanging cages decorating the more fortress-like areas; the skeletons brushed to the side were not that far out of view.

Scratches disrupted the perfect surface of the rock below your feet, telling tales of struggles that were overshadowed by the huge statues of a giant beast. You remembered how the stone was cut, chiseled with finesse to mimic the shapes of a raging monster. The pointy teeth. The sharp claws. The horns of a bull curling up like a laurel wreath. Even then, when looking at the hovering black flags that wore the emblem of this foreign kingdom, you had pieced together that the statues must have depicted the king himself.

You were right.

At first, when standing in front of his throne and having to crane your neck up to witness the true potency of his glower, you had hoped you could reason with His Majesty, King Bowser. You wanted to plead your case. You wanted to reason that this was all a misunderstanding. It was all a wreck of a symphony that could yet be fixed. However, with an arrogant upturn of his snout and the flick of his decorated wrist, you were quick to realise it was all just wishful thinking.

For the first few days trapped in this unknown world, you were kept locked within the dungeons. You were given a simple cot, the pillows flat and uncomfortable and not at all what you were used to back at home. The food was given to you as tasteless, uninspiring mush. The only light you were allowed was the dull glow of fire that filtered through the iron bars. You were held like a convict within the small cell.

All until you weren’t. The cold stone slabs turned to polished wood. The rationed prison food turned to exquisite three course meals. Instead of the now-dirty clothes you wore when you were taken in, you had been dressed in white fabric, edges of the garments trimmed and lined with colours of flames and gemstones mimicking the glimmer of embers. You don't know what brought about the change. Maybe the people of your home agreed to the king's conditions. Maybe the giant koopa had a change of heart. Whatever it was was definitely not to your benefit when you were placed in a large, golden cage beside the king himself.

Despite your voiced complaints and near constant nagging, the king insisted on having you dragged after him. You dined with him. You sat idly next to him as he slouched back on his throne. You were trapped in every sense of the word, stuck in a cage like a little, doomed songbird. A musician with no thrill and a creator with no hope. The only thing you could do was sit on top of a small bar attached to the base of the platform - a little, worthless bench that allowed you to rock your legs back and forth - with your body leaning forwards on your elbows. Trapped with nothing to do but lazily hum your comfort songs as you daydreamed of home.

However, be that a stroke of luck or of misfortune, your boredom was temporarily sated when you were brought into a large, circular space surrounded by a glow of thick, molten lava. It was a new place, and now the heat of the glowing walls caused your palms to sweat and your skin to sparkle with moisture. It was arid, but not entirely unbreathable.

The king placed your cage down on a small stool next to a black coloured grand piano, the plaque reading 'Ludwig Von Koopa' informing you of the brand, and sat himself positively on the cushioned chair. Confidently, his claw pressed the first key.

You're guilty to admit that you would have never expected the large koopa, let alone your beast of an impolite kidnapper, to be able to play on such a fine instrument. It was tuned perfectly, the sounds echoing within the body with beautiful resonance. The king's claws glided against the keys with a practiced precision you couldn’t help but observe. With each note he played, his face of concentration morphed to fit the sound. It pulled and it twisted as if you were not there, passion for the craft evident even in the way he closed his eyes. He leaned his body in when the tune demanded a longer sound, and swayed backwards for the faster notes.

You gawked at him, your silhouette still as you simply watched him play. At first, you were certain that you recognised the chord progression. You thought you knew the melody, the kingdom you were from known mainly for its involvement in the evolution of music. However, you refused to be vain enough to say for certain. In some places it sounded familiar, though that was common within many compositions. In other parts the melody sounded original. It was unlike anything you have ever heard before, and it was something that would have never reached the shores of your homeland. It sounded like something born to this room, and the flex and twitch of the king's arms showed the truth to that.

You watched as his brows furrowed, then relaxed. Then they furrowed again, and His Majesty's playing took a pause.

One try after the next, King Bowser played and replayed a certain part of the melody. The composition was unfinished from the looks of it, and you readjusted your spot on the metal bar. You heard him huff as he glanced at your movement, but other than that he ignored it in favour of the piano.

Playing for a minute, he stumbled, then he tried again. Each time he started from the same bar, giving himself room to think. He tried, and failed. He tried, and failed again. After about the fifth time, your eyes flitted away from his general figure and turned instead to the entrance of the room. You stared blankly at the door, eyes unfocused slightly as you listened to him play.

F major seven, G major, F minor. You knew those chords, recognising them as they rang in the background of the sound. Then, the king faltered, the misplay making the piano ring an off tuned sound. A broken noise.

Turning your focus back to the koopa, you noticed the angle of his face no longer flowed with the wave of musical passion. You saw him bare his sharp teeth in anger, the smug grin from his confident playing wiped clean off his snout. His claws hovered with a twitchy tension above the monochrome keys as if he didn't wish to inflict the aftermath of his rage onto the instrument. His eyes twitched as his bushy red brows furrowed in spiteful annoyance, following a distinct streak of black smoke that pushed itself out of his nostrils.

Blinking, you turned your gaze forward to think again. F major seven. G major. F minor… and then another misplayed key that sent a growl echoing into the silence of the room that fought against the popping sound of lava. F minor… but what if…

"Try A-Sharp minor," you chirped, leaning your body forward on the hard seat as you looked up at him expectantly. His attention turned away from the piano, his head tilting up slightly so that he could more strongly look down at you.

Instead of the friendly acknowledgment you would have hoped for, the king gave you silence. His eyes were sharp and narrow, cast in a fiery glow that made his frown appear shadowed and menacing and arrogant. The look made you slouch back in your seat, watching as he huffed out yet another cloud of ash. This time you could taste the sulphur on the base of your tongue. "Be quiet," he instructed, turning his head back to the piano with an irritated swing of his tail. You watched as his hands clenched and unclenched above the keys.

"I'm only trying to help you-"

He snarled, the sound deep and guttural, causing your mouth to shut in an instant. It was a wordless instruction that made you cross your arms.

Sitting up straight, you grumpily turned your body away from him as an act of small rebellion. Your features lay low on your face then, a small pout twisting your lips. Though you refused to look back, you could feel his eyes on you as the silence hung like thick goo between the two of you. Then you heard him shuffle and you relaxed at the tentative press of one of the keys. The king went back to playing.

Starting from the very beginning, you closed your eyes as you let the sour taste of tension dissipate with the sound of the notes. You were lost in the sound of the piano, only hearing the sound of King Bowser's breathing whenever a pop of lava snapped you back to reality. Any stolen glances you permitted yourself revealed not a face of anger, but instead one of contemplative concentration that did not affect the quality of the piece. He wordlessly continued, note after note, chord after chord, until he returned to the end of the section.

The first chord sounded. Then the second. Then the third. You were certain that he would hesitate again, but to your surprise he played your suggestion, minimally delaying to play the starting chord again. A minute or two passed as the giant koopa finished with the piece. Then he stopped and you opened your eyes.

Slowly, his eyes scrolled to meet yours, brows raised lightly with his lips parted. He stared at you with those brutal red eyes, his hands playing the chord again, and again, and again causing you to shrug. Letting his features relax, it was as if the aimed annoyance had completely dissipated from his body.

"I wasn’t expecting you to actually play it," you mumbled. However, your surprised tone was lost on him as he tilted his head up, side eyeing the piano before looking back at you.

“How’d ya know?”

You hummed, kicking your feet slowly in the air as you balanced on the metal seat. "I thought about it."

Your kicking stopped as a low growl rumbled in his chest, his snout pulling back incredulously, "you saying I didn’t?"

"No," you turned your entire body to face him, stradling the seat to match his show of arrogance, "I'm just saying that I did."

“It doesn’t explain how you knew the chord.”

“It does.”

He grumbled, “does not.”

“Does too.”

Huffing, the king childishly tossed his arms in the air, turning his attention back to the piano with a pout evident on his snout, though he didn't seem to notice, or at least he didn't seem to care. You observed him intently as he froze in his spot, thinking. Then his clawed hands pressured down on the piano in favour of a different tune. It was a lively one, a melody that originally belonged to a much larger, angry symphony. However, when singled out the tune almost sounded happy. Hopeful. It was also a composition that you definitely recognised, and one that King Bowser played with an expert's touch.

Your intrigue had returned, and you subconsciously leaned your body in. It was honestly beautiful. His hands fluttered across the length of the piano. The movements were muscle memory, the skill seemingly engraved into him.

Tilting his head from side to side as if he breathed the music itself, you almost missed the side glances he threw your way. Every once in a while, after every enunciated chord, you saw his downcast, amber gaze turn to you.

Whether it was him showing off once again - probably what the original purpose of coming to this room was - or it was a test, you did not care much. You listened, then you took the bait. You allowed your hands to flow in a familiar motion, as if you held onto a conducting baton. Every other moment, you listed the key or the chord he had played. You saw his fingers twitch at this, but he continued and so did you.

Sometimes he would slow down the tempo, sometimes he would speed it up. Most of the time, throughout the course of the piece, his eyes remained on you, bar from the few glances back at the keys. He played the piece to its end, exhaling a loud breath before his attention turned to you. You were still humming, in your mind finishing the parts that the very much missing ensemble could not. When you looked back at him, his eyes were glowing flames, though it wasn’t in any form of wrath. It was a curiosity, one that silently egged you on.

"I know how to play," you offered with a grin, your finger pointing at the piano through the bars of your cage. However, your hands were quick to dart back to your face to cover your grin. This was your kidnapper. He no doubt wanted to butter you up to use for ransom or he wanted to use you as a tool in a political war… and yet even knowing that fact, the grin refused to leave your face. Especially not after you saw His Majesty gawk at you with a smirk of his own.

He blinked a few times, eyes twitching from you to black shell of the piano. Then they closed, the grin dropping. You waited, and after a moment he opened them again. "Prove it."

Your lips thinned slightly and you tilted your head to the side. You ran your hand down one of the golden bars of the cage, your brows raised, "from in here? Or will you let me out?"

The king huffed then, and just as his lips moved to respond, the doors to the room creaked open and your collective attention turned to the single magikoopa that entered the room. He looked startled and unsure. Frightened almost. It was a dull reminder of who exactly you were sitting with.

"Your Majesty, Kamek requires your presence," the magikoopa said with a prominent waver in their voice.

Poorly masking the forming anger, King Bowser blew out a steam of flames at the unwelcome interruption, standing from the piano stool. His eyes looked to you before he shook his head, once again flicking his wrist with a disinterested persona. "Take them back to their room. Make sure they're fed well."

Your eyes widened, "what? Hey!" But the king ignored you, stomping angrily out of the bright room. He ignored your shouts, and you had to bite your tongue into silence as the mage awkwardly lifted you cage with a mist of purple magic.

Though it had an inconvenient end, that was not the last time you sat in that room.

———————————————

A/N: Get rickrolled all of you.

Bowser Masterlist

#bowser #bowser x reader #bowser x y/n #bowser fanfic #super mario bowser #bowser fanfiction #mario bros #bowser super mario #super mario #super mario x reader #bowser headcanons #king bowser

293 notes · View notes

lillylvjy · 1 year

Text

Nothings gonna take you (from my side)

A/n// prison guard Wilbur will forever have a hold on me. But anyways, enjoy this fic that took too much time to write because I’m indecisive!

Warnings// kissing (I blame Connor-/hj), yelling, paul dies, literally almost everything that happens in the video, reader is just falling in love with Wilbur, reader in handcuffs (don’t even-), like a sexual reference once, crap ending, and if I missed anything please tell me :)

Edited: no.

wc: 1.5k

It was another normal Tuesday, being woken up by the sound of yelling and banging on the metal bars outside of your room.

“Wake the fuck up!” You heard one of the guards yell. More like volunteers with the way they watch over you all.

You begrudgingly got up and out of the uncomfortable bed and stretch your limbs until they felt at ease.

“Aw, Man!” You heard the two other boys in your block yell as your door opened to be met with none other than Mr. Phil.

“Good morning!” He said in an unusually cheerful voice.

“Good morning?” You question back with a confused look on your face. “What’s going on? Why are you so smiley?” You asked the man in front of you.

“Oh you know! Just a good day!”

“It’s 7 in the morning how-“ your sentence got cut off by the sound of something hitting metal on the other end of the block. Once you saw the man who was making the noise, you closed your mouth as quick as lightening.

He was a tall man, around mid 6’ feet. He had black jeans that hung low on his hips and black shoes. He had a button up white t-shirt that framed his body beautifully with a light brown trench coat to accompany it. His hair was long and fluffy, covering half his face, but you could make out the sunglasses and monotoned look he had on his face. He kept banging the bat on the metal bar as he got closer to the group. Tommy and Ranboo practically shivering and holding onto each other in terror, Charlie gawking (which you would be doing but-), Phil smirking, and you. Oh lord, you were trying to get these thoughts out of your head. You shouldn’t find him attractive and think these, these stupid thoughts about a power hungry man. Right?

“Who is that?” Charlie questioned as he continued to look at the mysterious man walking towards you.

“Who the fuck knows.” You murmured as you looked at him with wide eyes, trying to keep your composure as he stopped in front of all of you.

“Listen up! Oi, Mr. Watson, why’re they out of their cells?” The man looked at you for a second then looked at Phil.

“Ah well you know! It’s a new day!”

“Just the way we always do things!” Charlie added on as he cowardly clutched the metal railing.

He thought for a moment before declaring, “Cell inspection, get in!”

You scoffed as you turned back around to go into your cell, but being cut off by someone grabbing your arm. “Have a problem with that, do you?” The tall man asked.

“No. I just find it highly unnecessary.” You retorted back at him as he smirked down at you and let you go.

“Check them last.” He told the guards as he kept his eyes on you the whole time.

You walked into your cell, patiently standing in the middle of it, humming a tune that you recently heard on the radio Phil turns on during the day. You kicked the dirt on the floor around until you finally heard screaming from a couple doors down. You quickly looked out to see Phil taking Tommy away from the group.

“Y/n! Y/n, help! I don’t want to go to solitary, please!” Tommy yelled at you as he got taken down the stairs and out of view.

“Solitary? What the fuck did he do to get solitary?” You asked out loud.

“Mud on his bed.” Charlie answered your question.

“Really? Fucking mud? Was it that assholes idea?” You asked as Charlie went back in the room to inspect Ranboo’s bed.

A couple second pass when you see the man with the pink bear Ranboo named Paul in his hands.

“We had to switch beds, we had to switch beds! No! Paul!” Ranboo cried out as you leant against the doorframe of your cell, watching the events happen.

Paul ended up getting hit by the bat (after 5 million tries), but you will say, he looks hot taking authority- what?!

“Mr. Cicle! Take Ranboo back to his cell and watch him. I’ll inspect this pretty little things bed.” He pointed the bat at you as he walked down the hall to you. You quickly looked to the ground, cheeks flaring red at the nickname he gave you, not wanting him to see the effect he already has on you.

As he finally made it to your cell, he placed his forearm against the frame, looking down at you with a smirk. “Mind moving for me darling?”

“Why do you even need to inspect my bed? Think I’m hiding something?” You ask as you look up at him with a quirked eyebrow as he smirked down at you.

He scoffed. “No. I just want to make sure you don’t have another man in your bed.”

“Wha- Why does that mat-“ You were quickly cut off as the man took off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt. It took you a second to fully get a glimpse of his eyes to finally recognize the man.

“Just want to make sure that I’m still the only man that’s been in your bed.”

You eyes popped out of their sockets as you finally realized who it was. “Wilb-“ you exclaimed got cut off as he placed his hand on your mouth and pushed you into the room. He pushed the door close with his foot as he backed you up into the wall beside it.

“Sh, sh, sh. Don’t want them finding out, do we love?” He asked as he took his hand away from your mouth with a smirk on his face as you smiled up at him.

“You fucking asshole, I thought you left me!” You let out a breathy laugh as you stared up at him.

“You think that lowly of me? Leaving my right hand man to rot in this place?” He asked with an offended look on his face.

“Oh so I’m only a right hand man now?!” You feigned a shocked expression up at Wilbur as he smiled down at you, placing his hand on your cheek.

“Hmm, I’d say I little bit more than one.” Wilbur whispered as he leant down to you.

You chuckled as he pressed his nose against yours. “Oh yeah, like what?”

He brings his free hand up and taps his chin like he’s in thought. “Hmm, maybe like my house cleaner?”

“Fuck off!” You slapped his chest as you giggled at his joke. You made eye contact with him before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to connect your lips together.

Wilbur grabbed the back of your head as he leant down more to deepen the kiss. It wasn’t like the usual kisses you’d sneak in every once in a while when the guards weren’t looking. It was slow and passionate and full of so much love and adoration.

Wanting more, you tightened your grip on his shirt, pulling him closer, if it was even possible, and pouring all your love for him in the kiss. You loved this man. Even if he burnt down churches and shops, you would always love him. No matter what happened.

And he felt the same about you.

Unfortunately, humans need air to breathe and function. You pulled slowly pulled away from the kiss as you panted, trying to refill your lungs with the sweet air that was between you and Wilbur, breathing in his scent as you did.

You smiled up at him as he leant his forehead against yours and sighed in content, eyes closed and a small smile on his face. Once you opened his eyes, he saw your wide eyes looking up at him, a smile on your face as you cupped his face and rubbed his cheek bones.

“I love you, Will Gold.”

“And I love you, darling. Now come on! We have to go get Tommy!” Wilbur whispered at you as he put the glasses back on.

“Wait- why Tom?” You asked, eyebrows pulled together as you tilted your head, looking at him and with a confused expression.

“I kinda promised him I’d get him out of here…” Wilbur said slowly, afraid of what you’ll say.

“Fucking hell- Fine! He’s lucky I like him.” You say as Wilbur smiles down at you and walks behind you to pull your hands behind your back.

“And your lucky we’re in public, because if we weren’t-“

“Don’t. Even finish that sentence. Keep it in your pants Mr. Gold.” You shook your head as he applied the handcuffs on you as opened the door.

“I’ll try. Also, if I hurt your ears I’m sorry, but I’m the boss around here so, kinda have to be, you know?”

“Hmm yeah. And trust me, I find it attractive.” You smirked up at him as he walked you down the hall to the stairs.

“You little- I cannot wait till we’re out of here.” Wilbur interlaces your hands together as best as he could as he walked you down the stairs.

“Um- Sir! Where- Where are they going?!” Charlie asked as he saw you in handcuffs and Wilbur with a hard expression behind you.

“Solitary confinement. I’ll be back in a few Mr. Cicle.”

taglist: @deadphantomsociety @jadeissues @aimi-chann @art3m1s-adelia @gaytoadwithapopsicle @maarriiii @mcr-pr-fob @romancingdaffodils @sixofshadowandbone @bird-shack @swevenne @ezzylikesdabee @ella-fella-bo-bella (and if you want to be added, feel free to ask lovelies <3)

#lilly writes #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot #dsmp wilbur #wilbur x reader #wilbur mcyt #wilbur dream smp #wilburfromlvjy #mcyt imagine #dsmp x reader #x reader

298 notes · View notes

world-in-a-nook · 17 days

Text

"Don't know where I'm in five but I'm young and alive"

character : Aventurine character mentioned : Dr.Ratio, Jade, Topaz, Diamond art : oryunbunkosu synopsis : a usual night at the casino with a peer into Aventurine's thoughts. title from: What a Life ! warnings : spoilers for 2.1 (Aventurine's backstory) ; angst ; self-loathing ; flashbacks ; mentions of blood ; alcohol ; gambling (obviously) (never gambled so might be inaccurate) ; implied suicidal thoughts ; might be ooc since it is my first time writing him. wc: 1k nda : not my native language

The cards scattered on the poker table as the other player shouted:

“How did you win again ?!”

“Looks like your luck has run out, friend…” grinned the gambler.

The blond man played with the chip between his gloved fingers before adding:

“It would be wiser, friend, to just admit that Lady Luck hasn’t graced you tonight and give me my prize.”

His gaze pierced through the rose-tinted glasses at the other player, awaiting. Through a groan, the chips were left scattered on the table. As the player left, Aventurine let out a sneer lifting his glass to thanks the player before being interrupted by one of his bodyguards:

“Sir, the more provocative you are, the more you’ll risk yourself getting in trouble.”

“Don’ worry, I always manage to get myself out of trouble. Always. So why won’t you be a dear and let me enjoy my prize?”

The bodyguard sighed and went back with the others. Like always, Aventurine had them following them. They were the lap dogs of the IPC protecting him, well that’s what Jade and Diamond told them. Although he knew that it was to make sure that he didn’t do anything stupid, that he wouldn’t escape. At first, they were only two, until he escaped them to have a fling in an alleyway. After that event, they were now five always making sure of his every movement. Five guards ready to keep him in check, to remind him his place, his lowly place.

When the bodyguards noticed his stare, his eyes rolled back to his drink. He swirled the amber liquid with a slight scoff. Amber like the Lord he was supposed to serve, quite a joke. He had served too many in his eyes and he only wanted to serve himself, to survive. The ice clicked in a small melody before he took a sip, feeling the slight burn in his throat. The burn that soothed his own, his urge to flee those that chained him to his position. The burn lingering and licking his heart, grasping his heart, and tormenting his brain with passing memories. Just this one drink to numb the pain.

His eyes wandered about to the casino’s bar, his heart beating like the bartender’s shaker. He could already hear the doctor Ratio’s scold about his consumption of alcohol and excessive gambling. He couldn’t care less; it was his way of enjoying life. Each second and each of his choices could lead him towards an impending disaster, blessed and cursed luck following him, so why not enjoy every minute. His lips sipped the drink before putting it down, playing with a chip in his gloved left hand.

He sat back in his seat, looking around for another poker player. The piercing gaze following the dealers and the waiters. He was one of the high rollers so maybe someone would approach his table, hopefully. After a few minutes, he sipped again the drink and only the ice remained in the drink clinking like a clock or a bomb. The clicking reminding of past chains, and the cold metal around his neck. He opened slightly his collar. The alcohol was making him relax, nothing less, not those thoughts and sensations coming back to him.

He took a step out of his seat, walking towards the other rooms. The clicking of the ice following him, chains keeping him tied to his destiny and his luck. His eyes clocked at each table, each player. He saw some bluffs so easily: he had seen them in the past, when his owner flicked his chips around meant a weak hand while caressing the chip meant a strong one. He had seen how many people reacted to pressure, like they had everything or nothing to lose. All or nothing. When he played, he didn’t care about how much was spent. He didn’t care how much the IPC won because of him; all was about the outcome. That’s what was important to him, and what was important to Diamond too. Sometimes he hoped that something would derail, that someone could see his bluff, he couldn’t access his trump card, that the Russian roulette would fire. Yet it never did.

He sat down at a random table, another toss of the wheel of fortune. His eyes stopped on the players surrounding him as he stopped his eyes on a lady swirling her wine like at the trial, Jade looking at him intrigued. But it wasn’t Jade, and he was the one in power, the one with the money and the high rolls. He let out a chuckle when receiving his cards:

“I’ll be merciful tonight, five million.”

Keeping his usual smile when stacking his chips and the adrenaline rush. The alcohol blurring the music surrounding him. He could already hear all the scolds about his arrogant self, his gambling addiction and how pitiful he was. He could hear Topaz grunts when he would wake up late due to the hang over. With one last sip of the whisky, they vanished into the alcoholic fog. Eyes on the game and the players. Another win, with quite the pitiful win yet it still felt bittersweet. Never truly satisfying.

He wandered again, the alcoholic fog blurring slightly his vision, but he could feel himself getting lighter. The wine didn’t look anymore like the blood that tainted his fingers, the ice clicking was now loud but not as loud as the screams of his previous owner, the mark of his neck didn’t burn when he looked at himself in the mirror.

He gingerly walked into the bathroom to wash his face, taking off his glasses and hat. Everything was so loud yet so alive. His feet weren’t bare on the floor, he could chat with whoever he wanted, he was the one at the table not the prize. He could see himself in the mirror. The colourful eyes reminding him of his curse, his luck, his meaningless self. His eyes were “pretty” according to Jade, “a sign of good luck” according to his sister yet he wandered why he had those eyes, this curse. What made his eyes beautiful? Rarity? “The rarer the product, the higher the value” his seller had said his owner while showing off his eyes. His eyes reminding him of his lineage, one-of-a-kind truly.

Glasses back on, the rose masking the purples and blues before going back to the casino. He wandered aimlessly, but he didn’t dare to say that he was lost.

#hsr aventurine #star rail aventurine #aventurine hsr #hsr fanfic #honkai aventurine #hsr #honkai star rail

12 notes · View notes

meshlasolus · 1 year

Text

Come What May

Episode 2/?

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!Reader (little one)

Warnings: marital problems lol… mentions of ptsd and passed events which are triggering (order 66)

A/n: Man, this is really short and i beg your guys’ forgiveness, but I’m working really hard right now to have my company be in a parade, and things are rlly crazy rn so pls be patient I promise I’m writing whenever I can!

The night surrounded you as you quietly ran through the streets, being ever so careful not to let yourselves be seen by the troopers that were stationed at every corner. Mos Eisley had always been nearly lawless, but now there were also ominous guards that would not even let the kinder folk live peacefully. The entire galaxy was now being run with such tight precision that there was no room for mistakes. The empire had not the slightest guilt over any of it, and how could they? Palpatine, a man you once trusted and fought for, a man whom you once defended with your life because you believed in the ideals of the republic, in democracy, he now ruled with tyranny and thoughtless violence, a Sith Lord that was beyond saving. An unredeemable soul that shall always be tarnished.

When you finally reached your small dwelling in the corner of town, Obi-Wan grabbed his saber from his belt and entered first, letting you follow closely behind at a safe distance. His protectiveness over your being was always evident, but especially now that he thought you could possible be in danger.

He had not yet explained himself for the short reasoning he gave you back at the bar, only that you needed to stay silent and follow him with haste.

Your home hadn’t yet been invaded, but as you quickly packed away all the necessities for the journey out of here, you couldn’t help but wonder if they were closing in, or if you’d have to fight them in any way. Surely a few troopers wouldn’t be hard to face down, especially since they weren’t as well bread or perfectly trained as the clones were.

As soon as you had everything you would need, Obi was again the first to step out the door, his head practically on a swivel in order to make sure that the two of you would remain hidden, and safe.

Your Eopie had been in peaceful slumber for the time being, as he never was usually required to walk this late into the evening. That would soon be changing.

“Obi, you know I trust you, but I need to know what’s going on,” you looked at him sternly, hiking a leg up and over the animal before he did the same. He huffed out a breath and looked over at you, trying to remain calm. His stress was more than evident on his worn out features.

“As soon as we reach Anchor-head, I promise,” he nodded assuringly, and the only thing you could do in response was sigh and face forward. If there was one thing you’d learned repeatedly from years in the past, it was that you lacked control over yourself in the eye of uncertainty. He knew that, but he also knew ignorance was bliss, and he didn’t want you panicking, not when you already had so much to think about. “Hold tight, little one.”

He gave a small kick to the side of the Eopie, and the animal trotted out of his stall quickly and into the night.

You both had been riding for hours by the time the lights of the small town were in sight. You’d nearly fallen asleep on your husband’s shoulder, if not for the constant shift of your body caused by the walking Eopie beneath you.

You felt more relaxed now, away from what Obi would only have defined as certain danger. You’d come to terms about year ago with the fact that you would never live a normal citizen life. You’d never get to know the feeling of living without constantly looking over your shoulder, and feeling the need to still carry your saber everywhere you went.

It was endlessly tiring, but you had to accept it. If you didn’t, you still be in a never-ending cycle of worry, doubt, and sadness over how things turned out.

You wish everyday that you might have left with Obi-Wan when he gave you a chance, that you might have been able to avoid everything that happened to your family. To Anakin and to Padme, to the Jedi order, and to the Republic as a whole. You often wonder if Anakin had left the order if things would have turned out differently. Surely he would still be alive, and so would his darling wife the Senator. They would still be residing possibly on Naboo, raising Luke and Leia like they should have been able to from the beginning.

You’d never forgive yourself for everything that happened, because you felt that you were partially to blame. You were too worried about your relationship with Obi-Wan to even see what Anakin had been going through, your best friend, fighting the dark side until it finally took him over completely.

You snapped out of your thoughts when Obi pulled the reigns on the animal, bringing it to a halt as you reached to edge of town.

“We’ll stay here for the night, but then we must keep moving,” he helped you dismount, bringing the sack of belongings with him after he hitched your Eopie to a water trough post.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” You were relentless, he knew it all too well, and yet? He didn’t want you to be burdened with this untimely information. You’d just gotten settled into your new life and already it was falling apart again. He needed to ease your mind, though he knew telling you would probably rile you up instead, you needed to know. “You can’t just rip me out of work and tell me we’re being hunted, Obi. You have to give me some context here.”

He took your hand and stopped walking, turning to look at you sincerely. You couldn’t stand to see him so upset, but you couldn’t stand it even more when you didn’t know why he was upset.

“The troopers landed this morning, and as far as I know, they had orders to search the town. Someone in Mos Eisley tipped them off that two former Jedi were hiding out in the city,” he saw your eyes change immediately, and and much as hated to see the fear, he understood that you wanted to be aware of what was really going on. “As far as I know, you and I are the only Jedi finding solace on all of Tatooine.”

You realized you probably should have waited until you were not out in the open or exposed to ask this of him, because now you felt as though you were being watched from every angle of this space. You were now completely paranoid about every nook and crevice that someone may be looking from. The force did a great many things for you, but without time to meditate, you often were not calm in times like this. Your hands shook, and you had to close your eyes for a moment and breathe deeply to even begin taking steps with Obi towards the Inn.

It was small, it was cozy, and it felt much safer than the darkness of the town streets. Checking in was easy, considering the troopers hadn’t quite reached the town yet. You doubted they ever would, it was too low profile to even be considered by Imperial forces. They would soon probably spread throughout Mos Espa, maybe even Bestine, but you felt as though you could be safe here, at least for the night.

When you’d gotten to the room, Obi tossed you the small sack of things, allowing you to retrieve what you needed before settling in for bed. He should have known you wouldn’t be able to sleep well, but he wanted to hope for the best.

“What are we gonna do?” You began, sitting up on your elbow and facing him with a distraught look in your eye. He tried to caress the side of your face to relax you, but it did little to help. “Seriously, we have no where to go. We can’t leave Tatooine as long as Luke is here, and we can’t be in a place where we might get recognized.”

Obi thought for a moment before telling you. He’d been thinking about this on the entirety of the ride here. He wanted to be able to ease you into it, but you obviously weren’t one for subtlety, and he wasn’t one to keep you waiting for an answer.

“I’ve heard of some abandoned caverns on the edge of the Jundland mountains. They’re livable, but no ones claimed them,” He began, looking down at your arm as he glided over the smooth skin. He wanted to avoid your eyes as he told you this next part, as he knew it was a sure way to make you feel uncertain, but it had to be done. “We can get new jobs that are closer, but we’ll have to change our names. I’ll have to get a job that doesn’t require Identification. If they scan me and I come up in the system, we’re both in trouble.”

“Why would I have to change my name? I won’t come up in the system, I’ve been registered as dead for over a year.”

“My love you have to trust me,” he took both your hands in his, squeezing them tightly to convey his calming presence to you. You let his force signature wash over you for the first time that night, and all at once you were feeling better. “If there’s any chance that they suspected your survival, or even got ahold of the security holograms in the temple, you could be in danger.”

Your life had once again been turned on its axis, and there was no breech in sight. You could only hope that after all of this, you could somehow make it out with minimal scratches, either metaphorically or physically, you didn’t know. Truth be told, you’d considered asking Obi if he at some point would ever say ‘kriff it’ and leave this planet to go somewhere else. To live life on the run and have exciting adventures again, to break rules and single handedly take down the empire. You knew it wasn’t possible, though. You’d both sworn to Master Yoda that Luke would be looked after, and if you broke that promise you’d feel like a failure as a Jedi. You already felt like a pretender to your old title, seeing as though you never took your trials, and never reached knight-hood. It was a damn shame, too. You would have been one hell of a Jedi Knight.

“We also have to make some adjustments in the things that we would normally do,” He said it like he was walking on eggshells, and truthfully he was. His words were probably about to drive you close to insanity if not all the way there. You sensed in him the lack of strength to continue, but urged him on with a look, anticipant of what was to come, and how bad it was truly going to be. “I know this seems overkill, but I feel it’s important. Anything that connected us to the order needs to go. Our sabers, our robes, your braid.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. Since when did Obi-Wan run away and hide, since when did he back down from a fight, and since when did he ever loose sight of who he was and what has become him? He was a Jedi Master if there ever was one, and he was good at it. His ridiculous notions were driving you to think he was the crazy one.

“Next you’ll say we have to cut ourselves off from the force, no meditations, no training…” your face instantly fell from the annoyed joking expression it held. He looked at you with sympathy after those words and you knew what it meant. Oh, how it terrified you. “You can’t be serious. Obi, we’re Jedi, it’s what we do. If we stop now in the midst of all of this then they win, we can’t let that happen.”

“If it means we survive, then it might-“

“No. Stop this,” you sat all the way up, using all the self control you had in yourself to keep from raising your voice at this late hour, knowing there were probably other patrons deeply sleeping by now. “Killing the Jedi is what they want. If we allow ourselves to be cut off from everything we’ve ever known, then we might as well be dead.”

Your anger was well noted to him, but he did not say another word about it, instead, he simply closed his eyes and let himself breathe for a moment. Like it or not, he was bound to you by the force, a bond so strong it was rarely seen in this galaxy. A true dyad, and though he wanted to keep you safe by any means necessary, he knew that by cutting yourselves off would probably put a large strain on your connection. He didn’t know yet if he was really willing to risk that.

When he didn’t give you any response, you turned over on your side, facing away from him, and tugging the sheets up over your shoulder.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, but I don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

He understood your anger, and your aggression, though not completely barred towards him, he could see why you acted in such a harsh manner. He only wanted the best for you, he’d proven that time and again, but the methods of his madness by now were getting out of hand, and you feared you might have to step in.

Tags:

@cool-h-posts @honestlywtfisgoingon @fandomstanner24 @elvenrin @b0xerdancer @theatrelove3000 @graciexmarvel @heyitsaloy @1deadpool26 @justanothersadperson93 @zanzann @the-nerd-dimension

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan star wars #obi wan and anakin #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x padawan!reader #obi wan kenobi smut #obi wan kenobi x reader

165 notes · View notes

scurvgirl · 1 year

Text

Some Uncle Grog fluff for your Sunday. Shout-out to all my fellow dyslexics out there.

Anyways, here is little Wolfe De Rolo bonding with his Uncle Grog.

While Vox Machina wasn't always together anymore, there were times where they made sure to be together. Winter's Crest was one of those times. Grog was in Whitestone Castle, getting ready to head out to the bakery before probably working out with the Whitestone guards - gotta remind them that defense isn't ALL in the guns.

Grog walked through the hall when his ear twitched at a noise. Huh. That was weird. Curious, he turned and opened up the door closest to him. It was closet, full of mostly blankets but also Wolfe.

"Oh it's just you, Uncle Grog." The boy sighed.

"Uh what do you mean by that, just Uncle Grog?"

"I mean you're not...one of them."

"Who?"

He sighed again, "My tutors. Leona....my parents."

"Hmm, Percy has been in a pissy mood lately."

Wolfe shrugged, "Mum's pregnant, he's always in a mood when she's pregnant. But that's not why I'm in here. Look I just...I just can't do school today."

"Oh, well you want to go out with me? I was gonna pick up sweets then hit some stuff."

Wolfe's eyes lit up, "Yes! I'd love to do that!"

"Alright! Let's go, little buddy."

"Hey! I'm tall for my age!"

Still small to Grog but maybe Wolfe was right - he wasn't gnome sized even. "Medium buddy!"

They headed to the bakery, picked up a bunch of bear claws then headed to the training yard.

"Alright, boys put down your little fun sticks - time to practice some REAL combat!" Grog shouted, ready to get a nice brawl going when...hm. Wolfe was here. Vex had two, no, THREE rules for the babies. One, no beer. Two, no brawls. Three, no house of lady favors. It limited Grog severely BUT maybe...maybe he didn't need to brawl but show Wolfe some beginner steps. Percy certainly didn't seem to be training the boy for anything for guns and school. It occurred to Grog then that he could teach Wolfe how to be strong.

"Make room for the...little lord Wolfe De Rolo! Today, he learns how to be strong!" There's a pause before the guards hollar and hoot in agreement. Wolfe smiles brightly up at Grog which makes him feel a weird warm tingly feeling in his chest. Not bad, kinda like when Pike heals him but also not like that. Cool.

For the next several hours Grog showed Wolfe how to train. They did push ups, sit ups, pull ups...lots of ups, not many downs. He even showed Wolfe how to properly hold a sword and how to punch without breaking your fingers.

Grog called the end when Wolfe started looking like he was maybe a bit in pain or too tired. No sense in making his nephew hurt.

"Alright! That was good! Keep working out like that and maybe you'll be as ripped as me one day."

"That was intense but good. I liked it, I think my body may feel different tomorrow - but this was good. What do we do now?"

"Now we go to the bar! Like strong men do!" That earned Grog another bright smile and warm feeling in his chest.

They headed to a tavern where Grog bought himself some ale, a giant sandwich and....a giant sandwich for Wolfe too.

"You got a weapon you think you would like?"

Wolfe smiled, "Mum has us practicing the bow, which I like. But...I want to try an axe."

"Atta boy!" He reached over and clasped Wolfe's shoulder. "So, you gonna tell me why you didn't want your parents and...others to find you today?"

The smile on Wolfe's faded and the warm feeling in Grog's chest was replaced with a twisty feeling he did NOT like.

"It's...embarrassing."

"Oh, did you poop your pants or something?"

"No! Nothing like that. I just..." Wolfe sighed, "everyone in my family is so smart. Dad invented guns and mum is so, so good with money and Vesper knows so many languages now. Leona reads so fast, and even little Danny is beginning to read. But...I'm not like that. Reading...is so hard, Uncle Grog. It doesn't make sense in my head, the letter and the sounds... they thought my eyes were bad like Leona but nope, it's not my eyes. I'm just...not smart."

The twisty feeling in Grog's chest worsened. It reminded him too much of the hard parts of being in Vox Machina, of always being around smart people.

Wolfe kept going, "But...maybe I don't need to read. Maybe I can just be strong! Like you, Uncle Grog!"

That...felt wrong. This was Percy and Vex's boy, and more...Grog hated he couldn't read for so long. Hated books, hated words, hated...his brain. Wolfe shouldn't go through that.

"We worked a lot on being strong today. You did some really good work. But being strong isn't all about muscles." He said carefully, thinking about Earthbreaker Gruun.

"It isn't?"

Grog shook his head, "Strength is about doing hard things. Doing things that make you work. You don't get strong by doing easy things. You get strong by doing the work and...and standing by your friends because sometimes that's hard too.

"Sure, you could get all muscly like me but you have to ask, Wolfe - where does your strength come from?"

Wolfe was silent for a long moment before he sniffled, "I don't know, Uncle Grog."

"That's okay. You can answer that later. But first, reading is a challenge, yeah?" Wolfe nodded. "Meet the challenge. Beat it. And if what you're doing isn't working, then WE can find a way that does."

"Okay...will you help? I don't think I can do it alone."

Grog smiled at the boy and clasped his shoulder again, "Of course. And when you need a break, we can BREAK stuff!"

"Yeah!"

They finished their afternoon meal before heading back to the castle. Halfway there, a familiar, pissy voice came in over the earring.

"Grog Strongjaw, tell me you have my son with you."

"Hey, Percy. Yeah, Wolfe's here. We had a good man day!"

"MAN DAY?! Did you take my son to a brothel?! He's NINE, GROG!"

"Relax! We got sweet, hit stuff, then got sandwiches at the tavern."

A long suffering sigh phased through the earring. "Just...bring him home."

"Already on our way."

Wolfe looked up at Grog, "Is he mad?" Grog shrugged.

"He'll get over it. Hey, you wanna ride on my shoulders?"

"Hells yeah!" Grog hoisted him up and they finished the rest of the walk this way with Wolfe peering down at everyone who was suddenly much shorter than him.

They reached the castle, which meant meeting a pissy Percy, a perturbed Vex, and put-out tutors. Grog took the blame - he wanted some alone Uncle Grog time with Wolfe. He could take his friends' annoyance. Leona and Vesper took Wolfe aside to go play upstairs while the grown-ups stayed in the study.

"So uh, Wolfe told me that reading is hard for him."

Percy waved him off, "Yes, we know, we are working on it-

"Well, it's not working. I'm gonna stay to help. Show him what worked for me."

Vex looked at Percy and shrugged, "He makes a good point, darling."

They all talked a little longer, working out what Percy called "logistics."

Before the children went to bed, Wolfe ran over to Grog and gave him a hug.

"You're the best uncle, Uncle Grog. Thank you."

Grog held him a little tighter. He was a good uncle. That warm little feeling in his chest returned in full strength.

#grog strongjaw #wolfe de rolo #perc'ahlia babies #critical role #critical role fanfiction #vox machina #fanfiction #scurv writes #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia #perc'ahlia #it gets the tag for being briefly mentioned

97 notes · View notes

goddess-aelin · 7 months

Text

Antics

Made for Rowaelin Month Day 20: Drunken antics

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: drinking, drunkenness

It all began when Rowan insisted Aelin needed a night out, something he absolutely should not have done. She had been working so hard in the year since the war, never taking a day off and doing her best to attend to the needs of every single resident of Terrasen. Until yesterday, when she almost half collapsed from exhaustion.

Rowan took it upon himself while she was resting to cancel all of her meetings for the following two days and adamantly insisted that Lord Darrow not speak to her the entire time. The latter alone would make her feel loads better.

All the while, Rowan played the part of doting husband. To anyone else, it just looked like he was taking care of his sick wife. But to those of fae heritage, he knew they could see the thin rope he was dangling from, fae instincts riding him hard, just moments away from stabbing someone if they even dared to come near his mate.

But that was okay, Rowan thought, since he got to lounge in bed with his mate all day. To his surprise, Aelin didn’t put up that much of a fuss about not working, something that was actually very concerning to him. When he said as much, she simply said that she’d rather be spending the day with her handsome yet overbearing mate than a bunch of stuffy old men. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve taken that as a compliment or not.

Once the end of the first day rolled around, Aelin was itching for something to do, he could tell. She had already read through the stack of books that he brought her and snacked away on enough cake that even she said she couldn’t possibly eat any more. And that was when Rowan decided it was time for a night out, just the two of them.

He knew that if they left through the front door, the guards would insist upon accompanying them, Aedion and Darrow would berate them otherwise. But Rowan didn’t want that. He wanted it to be just the two of them, a date of sorts. He could also tell that Aelin’s eyes lit up when he mentioned sneaking out of the castle, handing her a dark cloak and telling her they were going on an adventure. An adventure which ended with them in a fairly run-down bar, drinking the night away.

Rowan had a fairly high tolerance for alcohol so by the end of the night, he was barely tipsy. Aelin, on the other hand, not so much. If anyone would ever mention it to her, she would deny it to her last breath, but Aelin was a lightweight. And this delighted Rowan. Very, very, much. His Fireheart didn’t get to be the carefree young woman she was almost ever, so if he could give her this small slice of fun, of what life would have been like without a war, then his job was done.

And this was how he found himself half-walking, half-carrying the almost dead weight of his mate up the dusty road to the castle. There was absolutely no sneaking back in in their state, his large form supporting the stumbling and babbling Queen. Aelin typically had a lot to say on a normal day and when she was drunk? It was like a floodgate was opened into her brain. Anything she thought would make its way out of her mouth at some point, no matter the content. Rowan loved it. He loved her.

“You’re such a han-some buzzard. Di’you know that?”

With amusement, he nodded his head. “Only because you’ve told me 20 other times tonight.”

“Psh, I’m jus speakin the trusth.”

“Mmhm. And you, my love, are very, very drunk.”

Her contentment quickly turned into dramatic outrage. “No! No, I’m not! You’re the one who’sh dru–.” The statement was quickly ended by a stumble.

“See?” Rowan looked pointedly at her.

“Shut up, Buzzard. Jus’ carry me, damnit.”

“If I carry you, though, you’re going to fall asleep. And before you do that, we absolutely need to get some food into you. Otherwise, you’re going to wake up and regret every decision you made tonight.”

Aelin stopped walking and crossed her arms. “Hmmph. You’re a mean buzzard. You’re not my mate ‘nymore.”

Rowan chuckled at her grumpy expression. “I’m not sure that’s quite how this works but, sure.” He started walking away, knowing that as soon as he did, she would try to follow.

And follow she did, albeit crookedly and looking like a baby fawn who just found their legs. Abruptly, she stopped and stomped her foot. “Why can’t you just carry me?”

“If I carry you, are you going to fall asleep?”

She kicked her foot through the dirt guiltily. “No.”

He chuckled and walked closer to her. “Fine, I’ll carry you.”

A smile lit up her face and she stretched her arms out to the side to embrace him. But Rowan had other ideas to carry her, bending down and hauling her over his shoulder, her hair falling down his back and her ass in his face.

“Hey!! Put me downnn!” Aelin’s voice was a screech in his ear, probably loud enough to wake up the entire city, though definitely loud enough to catch the attention of the guards standing by the palace gates.

“Hey! You there!” Both guards turned toward Rowan, spears pointed. Rowan quickly pulled his hood back, revealing the silvery hair only a few in the entire world had.

“Your Majesty! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was you!” The poor guard looked frightened, probably ready to throw up at the prospect of what punishment he’d get for pointing a spear at the King and Queen. “Is she…is she okay?”

“No worries. She’s fine, just dramatic.”

“Hey!” she cried.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, I have to get this one,” he lifted the shoulder that Aelin was flung over, “back to the castle before she wakes up the entire city.” Indeed, Aelin was now jauntily singing a sailors tune, her voice loud enough over the unsavory parts to make the younger guard blush a deep tomato red. Both of the guards simply nodded and cleared the way for Rowan to enter.

“Hey where’r we goin?” Their path to the kitchens, at least, stopped Aelin from singing long enough to give his ears a tiny, much needed break.

“To the kitchens, remember? You need food.”

“Nooooooo, I sleep!” She started wiggling violently, causing Rowan to almost drop her when trying to set her down. He huffed a laugh. If he knew taking care of drunk Aelin would’ve been like taking care of a child, he never would’ve suggested a night out.

Who was he kidding, he’d deal with anything his Fireheart threw his way if it meant she was happy.

He took her hand, trying to pull her toward the kitchen, enticing her by naming all of her favorite foods. She tugged back with a surprising strength for someone who was heavily intoxicated.

“No, I sleep!”

“You need food, Fireheart.”

She put her finger to his lips, “Shhhh.” With surprising dexterity, she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. “No food, only sleep.”

He chuckled, once again trying to get her to relent. But unfortunately, drunk Aelin was just as stubborn as sober Aelin. “You will regret it tomorrow morning if you don’t get some food in your stomach.”

He felt rather than heard Aelin’s scoff. “Sleep is food. I sleep.” He could tell by the pauses between words that she was just seconds away from falling asleep on his shoulder. “Dream of meat. Meat on a stick!” Her laughter was maniacal. Yet a few seconds after it began, it abruptly stopped and he could hear her breathing even out.

Rowan let out a sigh. Looks like he wasn’t getting her to eat something tonight. Gently, he maneuvered her so he was carrying her in his arms again, this time bridal-style. She settled in, nuzzling his shoulder and curling her hands between their chests. The sight was so cute it almost made him stop in his tracks. He settled for a gentle kiss on her forehead and made his way back up to their suite.

To Rowan’s dismay, Aelin woke up before him the next morning, fit as a fiddle and ready to start her day. Rowan, on the other hand, had a splitting headache. Though it hurt, he just shook his head with a smile and was grateful that his Fireheart was happy.

A/N: I had at least two other fics before this that I was planning on writing but didn’t get to do keep an eye out!

Tagging:

@cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @highqueenofelfhame

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #rowaelinmonth2023 #Rowaelin month #rowaelin au #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #tog #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #my fics #my fic

47 notes · View notes