#i am willing to give out the names i have Snatched!

[juuuulez]

plsssssss do the oneshot with Carl and one of Negan’s wives i am on my hands and knees begging

info: Carl Grimes x Reader, minor Negan x Reader, you’re Negan’s wife, Carl is 18 and you are 19, canon episode: ‘Sing Me A Song’, NSFW, blowjob, cum eating, dom reader/sub Carl.

summary: Negan gives Carl a tour of the Sanctuary, where his youngest wife grows quite the interest for the boy.

WOOOWWWW you guys really wanted this so i delivered! beginning to think i have a real fascination with the idea of ownership/belonging to someone.. not even necessarily in a sexual way (however yes!) considering there are themes of this in a few of my fics now LOL

“You’re gonna want to look at their titties. It’s cool. I won’t mind. They won’t mind. Knock yourself out.”

You watch as the boy looks down, averting both the eyes of Negan and everyone else in the room. It can be intimidating, you suppose, considering the parlour appears to be a scene ripped straight out of Playboy magazine.

6 women, all clad in the barest-minimum of fabric that can be classed as a dress. Skimpy black numbers, designed to cling to every curve and divot. Negan saunters away, leaving the boy to his own devices, discussing something private with Sherry.

You’re posed over one of the long leather couches, resting your head over the arm. It’s not uncommon for Negan to bring others into the parlour, usually as some sort of twisted power-play, though this is different. It seems almost torturous, to place a boy in this situation, and you fear he’ll combust on the spot out of embarrassment.

Negan passes once more, manoeuvring the boy’s hand upwards to clutch his beer. This is it. As your husband turns his back, you can strike.

“Psst.”

After catching his attention, you wave the boy over, who appears to grow increasingly nervous at the proposal. His gaze flickers back over to Negan, then to the other girls in the room. You know that Sherry must be watching you with a look of disapproval.

Nonetheless, he obeys, filling your chest with a sick sense of excitement. You lean forward over the edge of the couch, and when he’s within arms-reach, you snatch the cold beer from his grip.

Taking a generous swig, you size him up in a less than subtle manner. He isn’t exactly very tall, and his clothes are all dusty. But there’s something enticing about that stoic look on his face, trying to seem confident, assured.

“What’s your name?” You ask, though it comes out more like a demand. You’ve always been rather blunt, not willing to beat around the bush, especially when you want something.

He looks back over to Negan, then to the floor, as if he’s reluctant to meet your gaze. “Carl.” The boy answers.

You nod, taking another deep sip from the beer before quirking your head. “Grimes?”

Carl doesn’t answer right away, his jaw clenching and eyes narrowing into something close to a glare. It provides all the answer you need, a wide grin on your face.

“We learn a lot during pillowtalk.” You justify, a statement that only serves to make Carl more uncomfortable. How proudly you boast we only implies you’re more than comfortable living amongst 6 other women, which makes his gut twist in confusion.

Like a cat with a mouse, you continue to toy with him. “Drink much?” You ask him, offering the bottle forward.

Carl can’t help but feel this is all some sort of trick. That he’ll slip up, do or say the wrong thing, and be scolded for it. After all, you’re only an extension of Negan, so he tries to be wary.

Despite shaking his head, he accepts the bottle anyway, holding it awkwardly in his palm. Your gaze is expectant, unwavering, almost to the point of being unsettling. Yet, Carl doesn’t falter, and he doesn’t dare drink the beer.

“Good boy.” You quip, shuffling to kneel up on the couch. Even in this position, he’s a good head taller than you.

You take the bottle back, to which Carl feels a minor bout of relief. Taking another sip, you continue to shamelessly inspect him. “You shoot that gun?”

Carl manages to nod, attempting to look anywhere but directly at your chest, which is temptingly presented to him. “Maybe.” He confirms.

“Sounded like a machine gun.” You point out instantly, not allowing a single lull in the conversation.

Biting down on his lip, Carl nods again. “You’d be correct.”

With his cooperation, you smile widely, wanting to see how much further you could string this along. “Do I make you nervous?” You ask in an innocent tone, though Carl knows it’s anything but.

When he answers, he isn’t looking at you. His gaze is up, a little to the right. “No.” Carl says rather quickly.

You take another swig from the bottle, before it’s lifted up and out of your hands. A noise of protest builds in the back of your throat, before Negan’s large hand cups over your neck, guiding your head to look at him.

“Stealing from me?” He accuses, a wicked grin on his lips as he keeps the beer just out of reach. You lick the remaining residue from your bottom lip, sinking back down to sit on the couch rather than kneel.

“No, sir,” You reply in that equally sweet tone. “Just getting acquainted with my new friend.”

Carl steels his gaze at Negan, refusing to look down at your obedient form. He catches another woman watching them, seemingly disapproving of your attitude.

“Of course you are, sweetheart.” Negan drawls, sweeping his thumb over your cheek.

There’s an anxious feeling settled into Carl’s nerves, unsure whether or not he’s even allowed to be speaking with this girl. But you’d called him over, after all. In a way, he was just following orders.

Whatever mental debate was stirring didn’t matter, for the door to the parlour opened once more, with Dwight leading a beat-up looking Daryl. It stole Carl’s attention away, focused on the growing tension in the room.

Knowing your little game was over, you retreat further into the room, fishing out a cold wine bottle to replace the confiscated beer. You don’t bother listening to their conversation, though as Negan leads Carl away, your gaze remains trained on his retreating figure.

The sparkling liquid sloshes into the glass, foaming up against the sides. You raise it, taking a swift sip, savouring the pungent taste. As you do, Carl takes one more glance into the room, a grin growing on your features as you lock eyes.

Now, you knew very well that cheating was forbidden. It’s what had Amber in such a tizzy, still crying softly over on one of the couches. This was going to be a hard play, but you were always one for a challenge.

You also always got what you wanted.

So, you begged Negan to take you to Alexandria. He immediately said no, of course, yet thankfully you’d been strategic about it. You wore a tiny black nightgown, and with the absence of heels, you leant on your tippy toes in order to press a kiss to his cheek with a long-winded pleeaassseee.

It worked.

What better way to consolidate power than with some arm-candy, Negan would later justify.

You were amazed to discover just how big Alexandria really was. The Sanctuary was sort of a massive factory, after all, but this place looked like a regular neighbourhood. Negan claimed he needed to settle business elsewhere, so he left you with a kiss, and you were permitted to explore.

Of course, you had a specific task to attend to. A need that required fulfilling. Maybe you just liked the challenge, wanting to push that boundary, see if you could really do it.

Though you greatly enjoyed being taken care of, not having to lift a finger at the Sanctuary, you missed that control you’d relented in favour of protection. Before meeting Negan, you’d been fairly well-off, and knew how to manipulate a situation in your favour.

Or, a person. Need be.

“We meet again, cowboy.”

Your pleasant chirp and upturned smile catches Carl off guard, who’d been carrying out a menial maintenance task towards the back of Alexandria. It was a secluded area, private, which immediately put him on edge.

“You’re here with Negan?” He asks, obviously sceptical. There’s a small box of nails in his hands, as it appears he’d been repairing a hole in the fence. Or, trying to, at least, given he’d made little to no progress so far.

You aren’t offended by his hesitance, knowing your presence can be intimidating. As usual, you wore a lacy black dress that left little to the imagination, dipping low in the front and ending around mid-thigh. “Of course.” You confirmed shamelessly.

Only to be met with silence, you rolled your eyes. “C’mon, I’m not his dog. He isn’t around.” You assured Carl, trying to get the boy to loosen up a little.

It seemed to have the intended effect, as he put down the supplies he was working with, offering his full attention. There was a critical look on his face, something near judgemental, which lit a fire in your belly.

“Why are you with him?” Carl asked, finally inquiring into what’s been playing on his mind.

You raise a brow, biting at the bait. “Why not?”

His expression twists once more, a molten well of determination in his veins. “Are you serious?” Carl urged, not understanding how you’d be so.. complacent. “I mean, you’re, what? 20?”

“19.” You corrected with a sly smile, the word uttered with an inkling of pride, as if it was something to brag about. Only 19, and you’d acquired a husband who’d give you anything.

But you, somehow, still wanted more.

Shaking his head, Carl echoed your sentiment. “19.” He sounded disapproving, critical of your position. Maybe it was a tone intended to make you back off, but it had the opposite effect, as you found that you wanted him more.

It looked like he was about to say something else, further comment on the situation. So you stepped forward, intruding on his personal space. His brows furrowed, confused, as he backed a little further into the fence.

“What-..” He begun talking, though was quickly quelled by your finger, tapping gently over his lips. Each nail was perfectly manicured, painted a soft pink colour, drawing his eyes downwards to the appendage.

You looked up slightly to meet his gaze, though thankfully the heels gave you some leverage. “Are you not into me, or something?” You asked, the words tainted with feigned sadness.

It elicited the intended reaction, for Carl shook his head almost immediately, words coming out hurried and confused. “What? No. You’re… beautiful, obviously.”

The smile returned within an instant, a sly grin that manifested much too quick for the previous emotion to be genuine. Carl was beginning to catch on, starting to understand that you had a better hold on his feelings than he did.

It was like playing with a Venus flytrap. You were a minx, a siren. Each word was sticky, coated in a honey-like sweetness that caused him to fold, bending to your every desire.

Instead of answering verbally, you slid to your knees, finding purchase in the gravelly earth. Soft skin became slightly dirtied, though you paid no mind to it, gaze still firmly locked on Carl.

He swallowed, hard, appearing in slight disbelief. Those manicured fingernails gently scraped the fabric of his flannel, trailing down, down, to the denim of his jeans.

“This is.. we shouldn’t do this,” Carl whispered, sounding both breathless and slightly panicked. “You shouldn’t do this.”

“But you want it.” You interjected, and as if to make a point, traced a pointed fingernail over the crotch of his jeans. They were slightly tented, causing Carl’s face to flush with embarrassment, looking towards the sky to avoid gazing directly down the exposed portion of your chest.

Fostering his attention back, you gave a chaste pinch to his side, causing Carl to yelp and look back down at you. His silence caused you to grow stern, that soft allure gone, replaced by an air of dominance. “Say it. Say you want it.” You commanded.

As if on command, Carl was nodding, forcing the words from his throat. “I do.”

“Really?” You inquired, stretching out the tension, which only ebbed on the throbbing feeling in Carl’s pants. It had been hard enough to remain composed in front of Negan, but without the looming threat, his mind found that it wanted you more than he’d like to admit.

“Yes. Please, I want you.” He finally uttered, those few words delivered in a tone of desperation, laced with a hint of shame. This was wrong. So wrong.

The smile returned once more, conforming back to that sweet, soft look. You appeared proud, content, happy to have gotten your way. “Good boy.” You cooed, and in that instance, Carl believed it was all worth it.

You finally worked at his jeans, unbuttoning the fly and slowly pulling the zipper down. Despite being near the back fence of Alexandria, anyone could walk past, which added to your excitement and Carl’s anxiety.

Fisting him in your hand, you licked your lips, savouring the way his breath would hitch. His cock was hard in your palm, the tip red and strained from all the teasing. It was slender, curved slightly, and you wondered how it would feel in your throat.

“Did you like the dress?” You asked him, hot breath hitting his exposed cock as you spoke, “I wore it for you.”

Carl’s gaze was drawn down, back to the exposed cleavage in the silky black dress. He found himself nodding, having to force the words out, still in somewhat of a state of disbelief.

“Yes, I did,” He replied, voice cracking as your palm tightened its hold. “I do.”

Finally, finally, you poked your tongue out, flattening it to lick a generous strip from base to tip. You swirled it around the top, collecting the salty precum, before suctioning your lips onto his heated member.

Trying not to make too much noise, Carl’s hands fumbled, holding onto the fence behind him. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip, barely holding in a ragged moan as you slide down his clock, wet mouth enveloping him to the hilt. It was no surprise you were this good.

You looked up at him, lashes slightly wet with the stretch, as you held your place. One hand rested over his hip, whilst the other reached out to take Carl’s hand in your own, leading it to the back of your head.

He was nervous, clearly, trying not to hurt you. But then you swallowed around him, tight throat restricting, allowing him to feel every ridge, and Carl couldn’t help himself. His hips nudged forward, shallowly thrusting deeper into your channel, with a stuttered gasp.

Encouraging the movement, you dipped your head back for air, before swallowing him whole once again. Carl seemed to get the message, his hand gently fisting your hair, as he worked up a steady motion that allowed him to fuck into your throat.

The pressure of a tight, wet heat was unlike anything he’d had before, and Carl found himself unable to be silent. His moans were quiet and breathy, moving up a pitch whenever you swirled your tongue around the tip on the up-stroke.

You reached up, forcing your palm over his mouth, trying to keep him from making too much noise. It serves to muffle the sound, along with enhancing that arousing feeling of control, revelling in the fact that he’s at your mercy.

Feeling him twitch in your throat, you pull away. It elicits a whine from Carl, strung out and desperate to have you in any way possible. Keeping him at that edge, you build up firm strokes over his cock, now slick with your saliva, as you hurriedly pull down the bust of your dress.

It exposes your breasts to the cool air, giving a firm yank on your bra to free them. The sight causes Carl to gasp, squirming in your hold as you tighten your fist, finally milking sticky strings of cum that land right on your skin, spilling all over your tits.

With practised motions, you slow down, not wanting to overstimulate the boy. His head falls back, leaning against the fence, trying to catch his breath. You shake your hand out, relieving it of the slight cramp from how dedicated you’d jerked him off.

As planned, your breasts were coated in his release, though luckily it hadn’t soiled your dress nor bra.

You brush the dirt from your knees as you stand, finding them to be slightly scraped due to the gravel. Carl’s attention falls on you once more, after he’s readjusted his jeans, rendered speechless by your appearance.

The silence fills the space between you, though you have an expectant look on your face, once Carl doesn’t quite understand. A raised brow, you glance down to your chest, before back up at him.

“Gonna clean up your mess?” You ask him.

He blinks once, twice, before catching on. “You mean… with a towel?”

You purse your lips, a manicured finger swiping across the swell of your breast. It picks up a glob of cum, pearly white on the tip, which you deposited into your mouth.

Carl seems to get the hint, a nervous look on his face. He’s never… eaten his own cum before, the idea making his face scrunch up in mild disgust, though you seem to do it effortlessly. His hands settle on your hips, hesitantly, still standing there in consideration.

“Unless you want Negan to see?” You prompt once more, the vague threat working to kick him into gear, understanding the severity of the situation.

It was his mess, after all.

His head dips down, licking a tentative stripe over your exposed breast. The taste is unique, salty and distinct, though not exactly unpleasant. Carl tightens his grip on your waist, as you gently thread a hand through his hair, guiding his face as he cleans you up.

The action has your nipples hardening, a tingly sensation growing between your thighs, though you’d wait until later to satisfy yourself. When he pulls up, there’s a smug look on your face, gleaming with pride.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You whisper, leaning close to deposit a grateful kiss over Carl’s lips, tasting him on his tongue once more.

His face is red, flustered and slightly embarrassed over what you’d made him do. You tug your bra back into place, along with adjusting the hem of your dress, smoothing it down to reestablish that perfect appearance.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You announce, giving the boy a small wink before prancing back into Alexandria’s centre. There’s a breathless stammer behind you, though you pay it no mind, willing to let Carl simmer in his feelings before your eventual return.

Of course, you managed to clean up a little more before reuniting with Negan, who was speaking to a Saviour at the front gate. He greeted you with a chaste kiss to the cheek, arm wrapping around your waist.

“What happened to your knees, baby?” He rumbled, concern furrowing in over his brow.

You looked down, noticing how they were slightly scraped. “Heels on gravel.” You shrug, offering it as a minute explanation, though of course, it’s far from the truth.

For now, Carl would remain your little secret.

#carl grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #twd x you #carl grimes #carl grimes x you #negan smith x reader #the walking dead #negan smith

[argentiluver]

“Chu-Chu!” || Jealous! Chuuya Nakahara x G/N Reader - Bungou Stray Dogs

Warnings: Just some mild swearing (it’s literally chuuya), that’s pretty much it.

Chuuya grit his teeth as he watches you hug a plushie of him tightly, completely forgetting about his presence for the 5th time today. He already felt like ripping that stupid stuffed toy apart and throwing it out the window.

How dare that thing take his rightful place…? It should be HIM you’re hugging, not some damn plushie!

You were only sitting beside him with the Chuuya plushie held close to your chest, causing the actual Chuuya to narrow his blue eyes at the thing that was stealing your attention away from him.

You wouldn’t pay Chuuya any mind or attention the entire night due to your consistent coddling towards the plushie as you held it close to your chest.

“Goddammit, when are they going to throw that toy away already…?” He thought to himself with an almost envious scowl, glaring at the plushie in your arms.

Chuuya hated to admit it, but he was jealous...Jealous that stupid plushie of him you sewed got more attention from you than you give him him. You barely paid him any mind, only paying attention to the cute plushie instead, and it infuriated him.

The plushie even looked exactly like him. The orange hair, the grey tux, the fedora hat, the coat, it just looked more cotton-like and small.

Well...Small-er.

Chuuya remained quiet and took another sip of his cold drink. His gaze fixated on you until he finally clicked his tongue in frustration and slammed his drink down quite angrily.

“I'll tear that thing to shreds, maybe they'll finally acknowledge my damn existence..." He mumbled to himself with a scowl, voice low enough for you not to hear him.

Before you could even react, Chuuya abruptly snatched the plushie from your arms, glaring down at the thing that was slowly poisoning your mind.

You gasped, startled by the sudden snatch and spun your head towards the source, only to see your boyfriend holding the plushie in his grasp tightly, "Chu-Chu!" You cried dramatically, trying to grab it yet Chuuya held it far away for you not to touch it.

"Chu-Chu...?" Chuuya repeated in disbelief with a glare sent to you. He slowly raised his free hand, the other holding the plushie securely, and pointed it at you, then he started to speak up again in a harsh tone.

"You've got some nerve..." He began with a cold stare, "You don't even speak to me at all. But when it comes to this ugly piece of cotton, you're willing to yell it's name out loud?! Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?!"

"It's not ugly, Chuuya! It's cute!" You gasped dramatically at your boyfriend, offended by his words as you continued to try and grab the plushie that just had a small, unwavering smile on it's face.

"It's hideous!"

"IT'S ADORABLE!"

Chuuya lowered down the hand holding the plushie, turning the other way while rubbing the bridge of his nose with an exhale leaving him.

"And what about me?" He then asked with a frown, turning to face you, "Am I not handsome? Do I not deserve your acknowledgment? Do you know how stupid it is when you give a goddamn toy more affection then you give me?"

You were clearly taken aback by his words as your brows furrowed and your hand dropped onto your lap.

"What are you—" You cut yourself off suddenly as a smirk slowly spread across your face, "Are you jealous...Of a plushie, Chuuya...?"

Chuuya stiffened at your words, a blush creeping on his cheeks, and he went silent for a moment before he looked back at you with narrowed eyes. He was thinking on whether to tell the truth or not, but he had already said too much.

"Yeah? So what?" He glared, holding the plushie in his lap with a firm grip, "You've been paying more attention to a sack of cotton more than you have been me! Of course I'm upset!" Despite how defensive he's being, he still looked pretty embarrassed and even tried to not make eye-contact with you.

You only laughed, throwing your head back against your chair, causing Chuuya to grumble.

“You're seriously jealous over Chu-Chu?” You snickered, trying to contain your laughter.

"Quit calling it Chu-Chu like it's a human being!" Chuuya demands, slamming his hands on the table, dropping Chu-Chu in the process to which you quickly caught with your foot and bounced it back up in your lap.

You finally stopped laughing, but your grin was still visible on your face as you fixed your position in your seat. You couldn’t believe this was the same Port Mafia executive who would kill someone heartlessly with cold blood, “Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'll put Chu-Chu to the side, then we can cuddle and you can have all the affection you deserved!" You grinned wider and put Chu-Chu on the table in-front of the red lounge sofa, spreading your arms out for him to enter.

Chuuya narrowed his eyes skeptically as he stared at your open arms, he was still annoyed but you knew he couldn't say no either. He slowly approached you, not saying a word and he eventually sat on your lap and wrapped his arms around you.

"I don't know how I got such a ridiculous lover." He said as he buried his face on your shoulder, "You can be such an idiot sometimes...Yet, I can't stop loving you."

The fact he was calling you ridiculous despite getting jealous over a plushie, and was only calmed down by cuddles was pretty ironic, but you decided not to say anything.

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too..." You instead giggled, leaning your head against his and holding him closer. Chuuya smiled lightly against your shoulder at your words, a light blush spreading over his cheeks which you didn’t seem to notice.

The two stayed silent for awhile as they laid in each-other's arms peacefully before you suddenly broke it.

"Can Chu-Chu cuddle with us?” You asked sweetly, blinking your eyes in an innocent matter.

Chuuya was about to object, but sighed and glanced at the plushie for a moment before he looked back at you as if you were a child asking for a toy.

"Alright, the toy can join us," He said grumpily, "for now..." He added which came out as a mumble.

You grinned and reached over to grab Chu-Chu, placing him in between you and Chuuya before going back to cuddling with him.

After a few more minutes, Chuuya could hear your soft breathing and snores against his chest, and he took that as his chance to kick the plushie off the couch and away from them.

He held his leg up and swiftly kicked it directly where it’s face was located, causing the plushie to collapse on the ground with a soft thud!

A triumphant smirk spread across Chuuya’s face as he watched Chu-Chu lay flat on the ground like a starfish, the smile still on it’s face.

“Serves you right, little bastard…”

Live laugh love Chu-Chu, he does no wrong 🫶🫶 and I made this while my cat was laying in-between my legs, BUT HE WON’T MOVE AND I’LL FEEL TOO BAD IF I GET UP 😭😭

the chuuya plushie in question:

saw this plushie on ebay and I immediately thought of making this

#chuuya nakahara #chuuya x you #chuuya x reader #jealous chuuya #plushies #bsd #bungou stray dogs #ily chuuya #jealous #gn reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #chuuya fluff

[autumnalmoons]

Truth or deal (sfw)

this was hard to figure out kldjfjf perhaps i'll do a second part with explicit rating, but for now :D

Viktor x fem!Reader | 1.4K

Notes: Academic rivals to allies to lovers, Fake dating, Mutual pining, Allusions to spiciness but nothing descriptive, Pre-Arcane timeline.

If it’s an arrangement simple enough, then why it's getting so difficult to follow through?

Viktor looks toward you, feeling the faint touch of your arms around his neck. You’re dancing too close to his body; not that he minds.

Not that he’s going to tell you so, of course.

Viktor can’t say he fully trusts you—after all, your charms are the reason why he sought you out after the Student Knowledge Contest last year. He can’t help but gaze at your eyes and get lost in them sometimes, perhaps more than he’s willing to admit.

 You’re a brilliant student whose name has appeared in the first places of the grading rank since your enrollment to the Academy. Sometimes atop his, sometimes under.

This reminds him of what you two were doing last Friday night…

“Viktor?” you hum, snatching him out of his fantasies—his memories. “You’ve stopped dancing.”

His grasp on your waist relocates on your hips, feeling the supple skin underneath covered by the soft silk of your green dress, so familiar by now.

“I just saw Robert Yean passing by,” he says. One of your failed suitors, now that he’s here with you. It isn’t possessive behavior, Viktor repeats himself between mumbles against your hair.

“Very insistent man,” you mutter with a smile, sensing Robert’s gaze glued on your back as Viktor and you gently sway side to side with the music flowing around the ballroom.

“Luckily I am one, too,” Viktor says teasingly, his thumb brushing along the apple of your cheek before leaning toward your lips. He understands the nerve of the man wishing to whisk you away, with such a newly established family, a whole future ahead more than the dark, smoky sky in Zaun could ever offer you.

For the deal to work, Viktor had to convince you that trust could run both ways.

Sure, you were competing to be the top of the class, but contrary to the rest of Piltovans side-eying Viktor—silently reminding him of his place under all of them, back to Zaun—you have such soft, caring eyes. Curious, even, once he took a seat next to you at the table in the library.

“I talked with Mr. Xilas about your prototype to clean chemicals from the dam,” you say, taking a glass of wine from a passing waiter, your eyes sweeping over Viktor’s features, to the pearls of sweat sticking to his forehead.

You offer him a sip, rotating the rim of the glass where you left a stain of your red lipstick.

“Thank you, moje sluníĉko.” He takes a sip, locking eyes with you as he places his lips in the mark of your lipstick over the rim’s glass.

Feeling you all flustered, you settle your hand atop his over the cane’s handle. “You should go and talk with him,” you add. “Sweet-talking him a little, hmm?”

Viktor sighs. “Unless it’s you, I don’t think I can do it that well.”

Your giggle makes him smile, loving the way your eyes crinkle in happy crescent moons, a warm feeling of pride extending inside his chest.

"Ow, my tooth hurts!" you say, fingers pressing your left cheek. "From so much cheesiness."

Viktor pokes at your sides, holding you close to feel the curves of your body against his when you try to wiggle out of his tickling grasp. "You little troublemaker, you scared me."

“You’re so silly.”

“You hurt me, my love.” He says, giving you back the glass of wine, brushing your fingers with his in a premeditated movement that makes your stance feel all wobbly. "But perhaps you could help me with the sweet talk, hmm? I don’t think it’ll be a good idea to call the merchant ‘my sunshine’, or ‘my love,’ don’t you think?”

“Hmm. No, unless you’d want me to be jealous?”

Viktor kisses your temple. “Perhaps later tonight. I might need some nibbles.”

Taking him by the hand, you two settle on the windowsill overseeing the balcony, with the breeze of the afternoon making contact with the bare skin of your back. Viktor’s right hand rubs gentle circles in there to soothe your shivering.

“You should’ve brought a sweater,” he muses.

You look at him, eyes pleading and mouth in a pout. “Aren’t you going to give me yours?”

He smirks. “No. I’m cold, too.”

"Such a meanie." Viktor laughs, opening his coat to envelope you within, almost against his chest. "Mmm, better—some nibbles, you say?” You smile, your lips brushing the edge of his collar, putting a red mark of your lipstick over the ivory dress shirt.

“Don’t,” he muses, pretending to be annoyed, yet his heartbeat jumps at smelling the sweet perfume of fruits and lilies. His hands shake slightly the stem of his wine’s cup. “Those stains are difficult to wash.”

“What can I say? You look handsome, Vikky,” you say, playing with the congratulatory badge reading 1st place Engineering Contest: 45 Edition. “I’m lucky for you to be my fake boyfriend.”

“You’re also breathtaking today." Though he doesn't repeat your phrase. He can't still decide if he tells you that.

At first, it’d been a clear enough arrangement—a fake boyfriend to keep you away from the annoying suitors, and for him, a charming socialite who could push his ideas around the wealthy Piltovan minds sponsoring the Academy. But the simplicity had worn out as month passed and Viktor wanted to invite you out to more dates.

To simply sit down outside the library to talk until the sun dipped in the horizon. And it didn’t help you let him get so close Viktor has memorized the features of your face so he could imagine it at night when you’re not in his bed.

Because it wasn’t part of the deal, you’re lovers only when the doors are open and the curtains withdrawn. And yet that faithful rainy day, you two stumbled over the threshold of his apartment soaking wet, the fine-crafted clothes of the academy uniform glued to your curves.

He couldn’t look away, and you didn’t mind it, either, settling your back against the cold entrance door as Viktor’s lips sought out yours, trying to impregnate himself with your taste.

"Perhaps we should return home today?" he says before he's even able to tell what just got out of his mind. Not that he could lie to you, only hide.

"Before Heimerdinger' speech about the Academy Anniversary?"

“I’d rather hear your voice.”

You laugh. “Vikky…”

“Everyone here thinks I’m whispering loving things to your ear,” Viktor says, nuzzling his nose against your neck when he sees one of the suitors sent by your mother watching you from afar. “Might as well sell the part.” So much, he’s starting to believe it.

“You do sell the part really well,” you mutter, liking how his now familiar hand always cradles the small curve in your back.

It's a straightforward deal, really. Even if you come from the Undercity, your parents had built quite a reputation behind them; not only a family rising from the abyss to the riches above by mere luck, no, this was a hard-work endeavor paired with an endless list of qualities you must master if wishing to have the family last name.

If it's so easy, why does Viktor dread the day when the deal will end?

Even when he wishes to hold you forever…

“Alright,” you say, looking at the sky turning orange. “Let’s go to your place, maybe? I like your mattress the best.”

Viktor chuckles. “It’s not like we’re going to have much sleep tonight, I assume.”

You poke his cheek, Viktor’s fingers wrapped along your wrist that he slowly drags toward his mouth, where he settles to brush his lips against the sensible skin there.

“You’re taking advantage of my inability to say no to you.” Your hands are by now yearning to cup his cheeks, reminiscent of how the amber in his eyes becomes burnt umber once your body is flush against his. He cradles you between his arms as if you were made of porcelain; as if you were a dream that would slip with the first light of the morning sun. "Shall we go?"

Viktor settles your hand on the crook of his elbow, the movement fluid and gentlemanly mastered by repetition.

"Hmm, we shall, my love," he says, giving you a seemingly innocent peck on the lips, though, at the end of the motion, Viktor decides to get a playful nibble on your lower lip. A promise of what is to come. "We shall."

#arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x f! reader

[ultralightpoe]

Willing - Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey. Did anybody know that you can learn High Valryion on duolingo???????

Word Count:5198

Warnings: none i think 

Description: Aemond is a secretive little shit and you are willing to bet 

“DO NOT WALK AWAY FROM ME!” Your husband yells as he follows you through your shared chambers while you look for your lost earring. “Look. At. Me.”

“I have been looking at you all night, Prince Aemond.” You sigh, knowing the lack of caring in your voice would only irritate him more, and the title you used instead of what you normally called him. “I have grown bored of this argument.”

“Grown bored? GROWN BORED?” He roars, moving to stand in front of you. “You need to be careful of how you proceed, dear Lady Wife.”

“Or what? You’ll slice me apart as you did that man?” You seethe, stepping closer. “He had a family-”

“He touched you!”

“He helped me clean a wound! Because my dear husband could not care less!” You yell and he steps up to match your attitude. 

“Are you so desperate for attention that you are opening your legs to random men now? I am your husband- YOU ARE MY WIFE!”

“YOU JUST SLAUGHTERED A BOY FOR TOUCHING MY KNEE-” Within a moment he has his lips upon yours and you are gasping out, launching back. “No. You do not deserve-”

“Deserve? DESERVE?”

“Goodnight. Prince. Aemond.” You snap, throwing a pillow at him and laying on the bed. 

Aegon is talking your ear off as he keeps leaning over his seat to get closer to yours, eyes casting down to where your breast are slightly shown with the gown. A gown Aemond had ordered to be made for you for his birthday, which you wore tonight for his name day dinner. 

That he did not show up to. 

Which left you sitting beside Aegon who was more than willing to tell you where his brother was. “It is so sad that you have no idea where he is, I would be more than willing to fill you in….”

“Why would you know where he is?” You sneer, taking a gulp from your goblet as he laughs.  “Your breath smells putrid.”

“He’s in town with Alys.” He smiles, your spine tensing as you recognize the name. Alys, your husbands mistress before he had met you, the bain of your existence for the first month of your marriage before he eased your worries. 

But lately your husband, who had always been loving and gentle with you, had been distant and off. You tried not to notice, but the more he was not there the more your anxiety got the best of you. 

“I am sure my dear Lord Husband would never-”

“Never fuck the witch in an inn that he gets every night, with multiple witnesses and guards standing outside the door. Mostly that one-” He points to your right, allowing you to turn your head and see Ser Millan Gale, one of the most noble knights known to Kings Landing.

You roll your eyes and shove him away, but that night when the guard escorts you to the rooms you walk slowly, turning to the guard. 

“Ser Millan?”

“Yes, princess?”

“Would you happen to know where my husband is? Tonight?” You ask, a heat travling your skin as the guard nods. 

That night you sob into your pillow, pretending to be asleep when your husband sneaks into the room, trying his best to stay quiet as he lays beside you. 

“What have I done? What have I possibly done to deserve this behavior from you?” He seethes, stepping towards the bed where you are fixing the blankets, snatching the small blanket from your hand. “How can I fix this if you do not tell me what I have done?”

“There is no fixing this.” You say lowly, eyes welling up with tears as he gives you a panicked look.

“What does that mean?”

“There is no fixing this Aemond! I do not want to be near you! I AM SICK OF YOU!” He steps back at your words, face completely stunned as he stares at you. Shock and panic fill your senses but you double down, trying not to get sick. 

The room is completely silent, just him staring at you with a narrowed eye and clenched jaw before a smug smile fills his face. “You always pick at your nails when you lie.”

Within seconds you snatch your hands to your sides, embarrassment your only option as he moves closer. “What is this all about? Have I not been a good husband to you-”

“You haven’t.” If he was going to keep pressing the matter then might as well play it to the full truth. “But I am sure Alys Rivers has had a good few months.” 

His entire body goes rigid, no longer trying to get near you instead he stands there like a prey that has just been caught, a stillness that you have never seen from him before. For a moment you feel bad, then his frown turns into a sneer and that guilty feeling vanishes like a mist in the spring. “Do you deny it?”

“How can I deny it when I don’t know what I am being accused of?” He seethes. 

“You have been having an affair with Alys Rivers! Have you not?!”

You are up before him the next morning, getting ready for the day ahead. The maids had already dressed you and done your hair by the time your husband begins to stir, hand sliding to your side of the bed and moaning in displeasure when he does not find you there. 

He calls out for you, still half asleep, and instead of answering you remain quiet but make sure to make a lot of noise as you sort through your jewelry to find your favorite necklace. The one Aemond had gotten you when you had accepted his courtship. Three green emeralds on a choker chain. 

He hears you and flops around in the bed, eyes cracking to look for you, the blue sapphire glinting in the morning light. “You look beautiful…..”

You don’t answer him, you actually do your best not to look at him. The realization that you were a fool had been made last night and you couldn’t look at him without thinking about Alys. Gorgeous gorgeous Alys. 

“I do apologize for missing my dinner last night.” He yawns, sitting up. “I was hoping we could celebrate today. You and I. We could-”

“I have to attend to your sister. We made plans last night.” You answer shortly, finding the necklace and attempting to put it on. Aemond sees you struggle and stands to walk behind you, grabbing the ends of the necklace softly and clasping it.

He has always been gorgeous in the morning, hair undone and no leather covering the scar on his face, he went for just his sleeping pants last night and his defined chest showed in the sunlight quite nicely. 

“I hope my family was not too mad about my lack of attendance.”

“They were, not to mention I looked like quite the fool when I didn’t know where you were.” Until now that is. “I tried having one of the guards send for you but they said you were not within the walls of the keep.”

“I was out on Vhagar, got a little carried away.” He smiles sheepishly, but you knew Aemond like the back of your hand, and you knew the little tapping he does when he lies. Just as you thought three small taps landed on the exposed skin of your shoulder. “How about a ride on Vhagar after your  plans with my sister? It has been so long since you have ridden her and I would like to keep your bond with her strong in case anything-”

  “I have no idea when our plans will be up.” You mutter, dragging your attention from him to search for earrings. Why was this breaking your heart?

He lets out a ‘hmm’ before grabbing your chin and pulling you to look at him, leaning down to kiss you where you sat on your vanity. “Then we shall celebrate tonight. I have missed my beautiful lady wife.”

“And I have missed my Lord Husband.” You say truthfully, patting his hand softly. He leans down to kiss your exposed shoulder before moving into the bathing chambers as you try to regain your calm. 

“I am not even going to bother with answering that accusation since you should know better. Instead I am going to ask where the fuck this idea started?” He seethes, hands clenching. This, right here, this is the Aemond you knew in the beginning. 

Long before you had been wed Aemond had simply been the cruel prince that everyone avoided, especially your older brother. But you had refused and you had taken to talking to the prince every day, even on days where he would do anything to chase you off. Aemond has always been quick to chase people off so that they would not end up running from him one day. 

You had outright refused and soon enough the boy was nervously asking to court you.

“Your brother has loose lips when the wine is poured.”

“My brother? My brother thinks the fucking birds outside speak to him and my sister swears she hears multiple voices in her head telling her the future.” Aemond laughs dryly, trying to match your gaze. 

“That’s what I thought. Then he provided proof.”

“Proof?”

“In the form of a guard who knows your whereabouts.”

“Is that so?”

“Ser Millan Gale. He knew where you were.”

“So you asked Ser Millan ‘is Aemond with Alys Rivers’ and he said yes?”

“That wasn’t my exact wording-”

“What was your wording? Exact.”

“I asked if he knew where you were.”

“And he said with Alys?”

“He only said yes.” You feel foolish for a moment, recognizing where your husband was about to take this argument. But it still didn’t make sense as to where he had been all these weeks if not with her? 

“You’ve never been foolish. I guess jealousy isn’t your best trait though.” He smirks, that smirk quickly falling when he realizes he only angered you more. 

“Do not mock me.”

“I am no-”

“You have been with her, and you have been hiding it. Running to her to fuck and love and then coming home to lie to me.”

“If you would just take a second and listen-”

You did not sit by Aemond at the dinner that night, opting for his sister though you had spent the entire day with her already. Alicent was pleased to see you two getting along and kept chatting to Aemond about it although she didn’t know you were using this to avoid her son. 

You excused yourself early from dinner, saying you were feeling unwell, and when Aemond launched up to walk with you you simply denied. He argued that he would be more than willing to take you to bed, a worried look plastered on his face, but his grandfather ordered him to sit back down as he had not been excused by the king. 

You kissed his cheek and left, rushing to the rooms and practically jumping in the bed to once again pretend you were asleep by the time he makes it to the room. 

You hear the door, eyes closing as you even out your breathing, and when you think he will just get ready for bed you are shocked when he walks over to your side and sits on the small amount of room you left, hand tracing your cheek softly. 

“Hey…..” He whispers, forcing you to pretend to wake up, a fake yawn leaving your lips. “I’m sorry to wake you, I just wanted to see what was wrong…”

“I just have a headache.” You lie, trying not to enjoy the feeling of his hand on your cheek. “Spent all day with Helaena.”

He smiles softly before standing and tearing off his leathers, crawling over you once he is in his drawers and plopping down on you. You giggle out when all his weight lands on you, trying to shove him off. 

“You are smushing me!” You laugh out as he reaches to tickle your sides, your laughs getting louder. “PLEASE PLEASE PLE-”

“Say you love me.” He orders, tickles getting faster. 

“I LOVE YOU!” You all but yell, tears slipping from your eyes at all the laughing. The second the words leave your mouth he stops, leaning down to kiss you softly before laying beside you and pulling you into him. 

“I love you too,  I would die for you.” He whispers, clutching onto you.

“Listen? To your excuses?” You sneer, watching as he moves closer. His hands are outstretched, like he is trying to calm a wild horse and his eye is wide. 

One knee comes to rest on the bed while his right hand reaches out to you so slowly. “We had a promise, when we got married, that we would always listen even if we were angry with eachother-”

“If you have not been with her then where have you been?” You snap, tears falling freely as you reach your hand out to his own. 

“I can’t tell you that. I-” You snatch your hand back, shaking your head at him.

“Then I do not accept.” You sob, turning your back to him. You bring the big blanket over you and smash your face into the pillow, ignoring him. 

You hear him sigh, before listening to the sound of him removing his leathers and dropping the pillow on the floor. You listen as he lays on the floor and gets comfortable on the rug in front of the bed. 

“Do not feel as though you are needed to stay here. I’m sure there is an inn you can stay-”

“You are here so I am here.” He snaps. “Just as it has always been.”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” Aemond sighs as he takes his riding boots off, watching you get undressed from the day. 

For the past 2 weeks you have been avoiding him, waking up early to leave before he wakes up and coming to bed early to pretend to sleep before he comes in. You have noticed that he has begun searching for you during the days so you have taken on a new class with one of the septas, trying to learn High Valyrian. And though you were bored out of your mind all the time, you knew your husband would never interrupt a septa’s lesson. 

“Y/n.” He calls, a tone of impatience in his voice that has you snapping your head up to look at him. “I have been calling you for minutes now. Are you feeling alright?”

“I just have a -”

“Headache.” He finishes the sentence, opening his arms to pull you into his lap, you being half naked. “Have you seen the Maestor, I’m beginning to worry about all the headaches you have been getting.”

“I am fine-”

“I worry for you darling.” He admits, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks to you, kissing your own chin softly. “Tomorrow we shall go see the Maestor together.”

“Won’t you be busy?” As he normally was this time around.

“No. I’ll be here. You are here so I am here.” He says, arms wrapping around your waist. “Just as it has always been.”

“Just as you vowed.” You smile softly, thinking about his wedding vows to you. They weren’t said during the ceremony, instead he whispered them to you in the safety of your own room, before devouring you that night. 

“I feel like I should warn you on the upcoming weeks….” He begins. “I have done something.”

Your heart begins to beat faster, and for a moment you believe he is about to confess to his affair. But a knock on the door has him launching to answer it so no one will walk in and see you indecently. 

“A raven arrived for you from storms end, a message from your nephew.” An accented voice murmurs as they hand him a raven before he shuts the door softly. 

“Aemond?” You call but he is already walking into the bathing chamber to read it privately. That night when you go in to see where he put it you find it burnt up with one of the candles, only a scrap of it surviving and the small words of ‘the plan’ to be seen. 

It is silent in the room as you both lay there, neither of you willing to say anything but unable to fall asleep. You were still desperate for answers and validation and he was still angry at the accusation and hurt at your own pain. 

There was one candle lit in the room and he watches as your shadow fills the ceiling before you are peering over the bed to look down to where he is lying. “Do you love her?”

“Y/n please-”

“Would you die for her? Just as you always claim to me?”

“SHE DOES NOT EXIST! SHE DOES NOT EVEN LIVE IN THIS SIDE OF THE WORLD!” He shouts, desperate for you to understand. 

“If that is true then what are you hiding from me and why?” You ask tearfully as he stares up at you. 

“I love you.” He breathes out, the only thing he really can process right now. 

“I don’t think you do.” You mutter, falling back into the bed and tuning away from his area once more. 

You wake before him the next morning and follow through with you plans with his mother, only seeing him in the training yard once. 

After lunch you leave to find the hand of the king, looking for a book that Alicent said he might have and when you do you find him in a small council meeting, no Alicent or king in sight. 

For a moment you debate leaving, pretending like you never saw this, but you instead stay hidden as you listen in on their plans to usurp the throne. 

After a few moments of listening you are running to the training yard to find your husband and tell him of the treason you just listened to but as you run through the yard you are sliced with a sword down your knee. 

You cry out in pain and fall to the mud beneath you as the man gasps out, moving to catch you. Your own hands fly to the fresh wound and he stops you, muttering something about the dirt from your hands would infect it. He grabs your calf and looks at the wound carefully. 

Aemond had heard you scream, and though he hadn’t seen what happened when he turned to find you he found a random man with his hands gripping your leg tightly, your dress ridden up to expose your thigh as your eyes ran with tears. A rage built up, him believing you were in danger and within moments he finds himself swinging the sword and slicing the man in two, a guttural scream leaving your lips. 

He carried you to the maestor as you sobbed for the unknown man, the screaming match began soon after the maestor cleaned the wound. 

You awoke to the harsh streams of sunlight in the morning blurry eyed from all the crying, launching over the bed to see if Aemond was still on the floor. 

The pillow and blanket were there but no husband in sight. You did not know if you were relieved or disappointed at that. 

You get dressed by yourself, a little confused by the lack of maids, and move to open the door. Only to find that it would not budge. You tried again and again, screaming at the guards on the other side only to get no answer. 

Before you know it you are searching the room for something to break the door down, in your search you find a parchment on Aemonds nightstand that was not there last night. 

‘Be angry all you want but I ask two things. One, stay in this room until Ser Millan comes to get you for the coronation, be dressed in green. Two, pack a small travel bag and hide it under our bed next to mine. Everything will be explained soon but trust no one.  My father died. -Your Love, Aemond’ 

Your hands shake as you grab the necklace he had gotten you, that had been laying under the parchment where he had placed it before bending down to see he had indeed hidden a travel pouch under the bed as well as his sword and set of knives. 

You move to pull the bag out until a knock sounds at the door and you are shoving it under in a panic, launching to stand as Alicent comes in, eyes puffy as she looks to you. “Dear Y/n….”

She moves to grab your cheeks softly, your arms moving to grab onto hers as you roll the parchment in your hand tightly so she might not see it. “I never thought any of my children would be so blessed with a love match, you have no idea how happy I am that you found Aemond.”

You smile at her, heart beating through your ribcage as you try to act normal. Your heart nearly beats out of your chest as she looks down and you are sure she must have spotted your husbands bag under the bed, but she merely scoffs as she looks back up to you. “Even the best marriages have their ups and downs.”

You look to the pillow and blanket on the floor, nearly deflating with relief that she only saw that. 

“An accident in the training yard yesterday led to a bit of a-”

“Jealous battle?” She giggles while you pretend to play coy and nod, showing her the cut down your leg to draw her attention. 

“That looks terrible, we shall have the maestors keep an eye on it but first I need you to get ready.” She orders, standing to her full height. You nod and move to grab the dress Aemond got you for his name day, a smug smile on your face as she sees the green. 

“I’m already on it, your majesty.” She smiles softly before kissing your cheek and leaving you to it. 

(Honestly did not plan an Aemond Pov but felt like doing it so wish me luck)

The halls of dragonstone were wide and barron as Aemond walked through them with his nephew Jace and his sister Rhaenyra, playing with his wedding ring as he listened to their plans of war. 

He missed you, and the separation was beginning to wear him down as he listened to them, only thinking of you. 

Right now you would be at his name day dinner, probably wearing the dress he had gotten you and waiting for him. This would be the hundredth time he has disappeared in the last few weeks and the guilt was eating at him. 

But he refused to not be prepared for the war that was coming. He knew of his grandfathers plans to usurp the throne, and his mother had been just as aware when he told her. Though she didn’t agree he caught the hesitation in her eye. 

Whether she knew it or not she would be fighting against her old friend soon. And Aemond refused to have you in the mix with Aegon as king. 

So he had sworn his sword to his sister, and has been called to dragonstone to help her plan. You could not know yet, because as much as he loved you and wanted to tell you there was a chance you would accidently blab. 

“I am sorry, dear nephew, but I must return home before my Lady Wife sends for my head.” He teases softly, drawing a laugh from the male as they shake hands before Aemond leaves to find Vhagar. 

 You spend the next few hours getting ready, tying your own corset and doing your own hair as you watch the door in a paranoid manner. You do as Aemond instructs and pack a small pouch, stashing it next to his under the bed just as a small knock is heard at the door and Ser Millan calls through it. 

He gives you a knowing look as you open it, to which you nod and he smiles. You expect him to simply lead you to where you need to go but he actually grabs you and hauls you over his shoulder. 

“SER MILLAN-!” You snap but then you see the crowds being shoved in and realize he was keeping you at a higher level so you weren’t trampled. 

“So it’s true…. Aegon is to be king….” You whisper, heart breaking slowly. 

You were asleep by the time he got in the rooms and Aemond was slightly disappointed with this, but not really when he saw how peaceful you looked. He debated waking you up, getting a bit of celebration from you just like this morning when you wished him a happy name day as you rode him. But that would be cruel and he was also tired, so he simply prepared for bed and slipped in beside you. 

When he awoke he was once again disappointed by the lack of your presence on the bed, calling for you only to get no answer. But he heard you rummaging around in your jewelry and his heart sped up as he opened his eyes to see you. 

You were always so fucking beautiful to him, and Aemond often wondered what he did to deserve you. How had he not scared you off yet? He tells you just what he is thinking, that you look beautiful. His heart begins beating out of his chest when he realizes something is off, moving to get closer and help you with the necklace you were struggling with. 

He offers a ride on Vhagar, just wanting to be with you but you decline and he feels empty, but you had made plans and he should be grateful that one of you is keeping up court appearances while he becomes a traitor. 

He worries about your reaction as he sits in the bath, wondering if you would think him a coward for not standing with his family. 

He prayed that you would understand.

You are brought to stand with Aemond, once he saw you his hands are immediately flying to your shoulders to make sure you are alright. “issi ao alright” (are you alright?)

“aōha muña māstan isse naejot se tistālion bisa ñāqatubis, gaomas ziry gīmigon skoros iksā planning?” (your mother came into the room this morning, does she know what you are planning?)

Aemond shakes his head no, a tense look on his features as he pulls you to stand closer, eyes appraising you. “You look ravish-”

“Is now a good time for this?”

“Well you were screaming at me last night so I feel the need to remind you.” He teases and you begin getting defensive, he must notice because he simply drags you to stand near his family, keeping his hand entwined with yours. 

“Beware the beast beneath the boards.” Helaena mutters and you get an uneasy feeling. 

You were avoiding him, that much Aemond was aware. He just could not figure out why or how to get you to stop. 

He debates locking you in the bedchambers and just refusing to let you out, but you would kill him and he would rather you come to him when you are ready rather than force himself upon you like a crazy man. 

But he was worried, you were speaking of headaches and days where you said you were with his sister you were gone and could not be found. 

You were sleeping right now and he was staring at you like a creep. 

He remembers how you used to follow him around, right after you had met him, and he used to try and scare you off with his rude behavior. You laughed in his face one day and he felt like a fool, but from that moment on he was obsessed. That had never really changed. 

Aemond Targaryen lived and breathed for you, a fact he was glad to admit. When his brother mocked him he merely smiled. When his mother asked for heirs he would crack a joke and say you both were trying day and night to make her uncomfortable. 

Without you he was nothing. 

He kept a rough hold of your hand throughout the coronation, glaring at the scene before him as the crowd began cheering for his brother who was slowly fueling them on. Then chaos broke and the ground was shaking and cracking. 

His feet widened their stance to keep himself upright as he clutched onto you so you didn’t fall while his aunt tore through the ground and smashed the peasants under her beasts talons. Within moments she was coming to them and Aemond felt his heart explode as he turned to pull you into him and block you from any fire the dragon may breathe or at least be the first to be eaten. 

As he clutches onto you he prays, hearing the beast roar as you begin sobbing. “Imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry”

Then it’s over, and Rhaenys is flying away as you continue to clutch onto him, but he doesn’t have time even if you are terrified. 

Snatching your hand and pulling you into his side to leave, his mother calling for him in a panic. 

“When…..when you go to her, give her this.” She cries, handing him the torn page with a shaky hand. “Tell her…..tell her I remember and I hate the color green.”

Aemond nods, letting his mother pull him in to kiss his head before he is tearing through the castle with you by his side. He meets Millan at your rooms and snatches the stuff hidden under the bed before dragging you to where Vhagar is already saddled and ready.

“This….. Entire time you had been-”

“Planning an escape?” He supplies, trying not to lose his patience as your eyes well up with tears. “Love we have to go.”

“I accused you of ch-” He reaches for you in a moment, pulling you into his chest as you sob and he rubs your hair. 

“I do not blame you. I was hiding something. But we need to work this out later before Aegon finds out I have-” And within a moment another dragons roar fills the air. “Y/n. Saddle. Now.”

You listen, climbing up the rope ladder to reach the saddle, your husband following closely and sitting right behind you on top of the dragon. His hands wound around you as he buckles everything and commands her to go. 

The wind pushes you back into his chest as she takes off and he chuckles softly before his hand moves to your stomach. “This is why I wanted you to ride her before we left, but you had to be stubborn.”

“Your mother.”

“We will figure out a peace treaty, I am sure of it.” He whispers before Vhagar takes off into the winds.

“Then why are we escaping?”

“Because I am not willing to risk you getting hurt while they act like fools.” He answers sharply, pulling you in to kiss him before focusing on the skies ahead. 

NO TAG LIST, IT IS NOT WORKING FOR SOME REASON 

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen possessive #House of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine

[benedictscanvas]

be still, my foolish heart [3] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k (we're getting into it folks)

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: you're still enjoying this?? you're a mad lot, you are. in all seriousness, i'm writing like i have a new lease on life so i'm really glad so many of you are liking this as much as i am. jamie is really torn, the poor boy, but i've got 12 chapters planned in total so strap yourselves in for a slow(ish) burn <3 <3 <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he’s terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

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chapter three - if i could hold you for a minute

“That’s a wrap, thanks boys, you were both great.”

Jamie nodded his thanks, giving his mate Rife a pat on the back that seemed to pass as a hug around here. Rife was quick to run off to the pitch behind them, getting back in on the passing drills, but Jamie hung back. Of course he did. He always fucking did, and he was getting quick sick of himself.

In the last week of being at England camp, he’d taken part in around 10 PR opportunities, all of which were open to volunteers, none of which he was obligated to do. But there were so few of them willing to take part and the smile on your face every time he hesitantly stuck his hand in the air was worth whatever embarrassment you might put him through. And, most of the time, you weren’t big on embarrassing PR moments. Mostly wholesome conversations with the team and stupid challenges that he’d found himself quite competitive with. When he won the competition to roll the 10p coin into a fork yesterday, he was buzzing.

The spelling bee had not been his finest moment, but you’d been very reassuring that people loved someone relatable, and what was more relatable than not being able to spell ‘mediterranean’?

You’d only been able to reassure him as such because he made a habit of sticking around afterwards. Asking if you needed any help taking down the camera equipment, because Tiff still hadn’t come back to work but you’d kicked Brian to the curb days ago. Now you seemed to be doing it all by yourself, and sometimes the way you rushed around made Jamie’s chest ache.

“Hey,” he said softly, gently touching you on the shoulder to get your attention. You turned from the equipment you were taking apart and boxing up, your whole expression changing for the better when you saw who was disturbing you, “Can I get that one?”

He points a thumb over his shoulder at the other camera and is rewarded for his kindness when he sees you physically sag with relief.

“Lifesaver, you are. Thank you, Jamie.”

You didn’t call him Just Jamie anymore. He missed it at first, the silly nicknames that had made you feel like fast friends, but then he’d realised that the way you said his actual name, soft and thankful a lot of the time, was better than any stupid nickname he could come up with.

“Nah, you’re good.”

He gets busy putting the camera away, following your lead as inconspicuously as possible by glancing over at your handiwork when he’s not sure where to put something. When you’re finished, he’s almost done. You come over to take the heavy case from him and he holds it out of your arm’s reach.

“As if. Lead the way, boss.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly at him, then protest when he also snatches the box you’re carrying from you with his free hand. He tries to convince you to let him carry the third, tiny microphone box over his shoulder too, but you simply flip him the bird and lead the way to your office.

He’d carry you there, if you’d let him, because he knows the walk of a woman whose feet are hurting in her heels - Rebecca had taught him the signs. You were walking solely on the balls of your feet, trying to keep a normal rhythm but failing.

“You think Gareth will tell me off when he realises I’m using one of his star players to carry my shit around the place?”

He wants to argue that he’s not one of the star players around here, but he’s already learnt where self-deprecation gets him with you - an argument. Instead, he basks in the glow of the compliment inwardly as you open the door to your office and usher him in.

“I think he’ll wonder why the fuck nobody’s been hired to help y’ out,” Jamie says, then sees the determination in your face and course corrects, “Not that you can’t do anythin’ you set y’ mind to, of course. Sorry. Just hate seeing y’ rush about the place with your feet on fuckin’ fire.”

There’s definitely a visible wince on his face when he’s put the equipment down on the right shelves and turns to find you staring at him in disbelief.

“How do you know my feet hurt?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think just anyone would notice,” he’s quick to reassure you, then hopes that doesn’t sound like he’s only one who notices anything about you, “It’s just that one of my mates taught me to notice when someone’s struggling on heels. Can offer her me arm then, like.”

“Hm.”

You look thoughtful, but he’s already put his foot in his mouth enough for one day. He can’t seem to stop when you’re around. Yesterday, he’d tried to ask you about your day but all he’d said was the word ‘day?’ as a question. He was still getting over that one.

Deliberately not flirting with you was getting harder and harder every time you fucking smiled at him.

“Anyway, you’re steering me off topic. I hope Tiff’s back soon,” he says sincerely, hovering by the door. Already, he feels he’s outstayed his welcome, cluttering up the place, “An’ if there’s anythin’ I can do until she’s back, then…”

Just let me know? Shout and I’ll come running? Let me convince Gareth to give you a day off so you can relax?

He doesn’t know what his intended end of the sentence was, but you nod like he finished it anyway. You’re looking at him pensively, not saying goodbye yet. Eventually, after a few moments of what looked like an internal debate, you flop into your office chair and stare up at him ruefully as you kick your shoes off.

“I’m so thoroughly fucked Jamie, you have no idea.”

There’s a thought in the back of his head that he’s supposed to be training right now, but he doesn’t even think about leaving. He won’t be able to stay long, but he’ll be damned if he leaves you when you’re pouting like that. He kicks the door closed and walks closer to your desk.

“Can’t be that bad,” he says, hoping its soothing not patronising, “Ted always says something like…a problem halved is a problem shared or somethin’. Lay it on me.”

Again, you’re looking at him pensively. He’s not sure he likes you studying him so closely, like you’re searching for something. He gives you a shrug and a smile.

“Okay, but I’m only taking two minutes of your time, I promise,” you sigh, “Really shouldn’t keep you from training with the fucking England squad for this.”

It’s the first sign of self-deprecation he’s ever seen from you. He hates it with a passion. Briefly, he wonders if this is what you feel like when he does it, if that’s why you always argue against him. Maybe if he plays this right, he can leave this conversation safe in the knowledge that the two of you have become proper friends.

“Oi. None of that, alright? If I’m not allowed, you’re fuckin’ not either,” he insists, firm as he catches your eye. You look surprised, but you nod with a small smile that he’s over the moon to see, “Good. Right. Let’s problem halve then.”

There’s a laugh on your lips that you’re keeping in and he definitely hasn’t used that expression right, he knows. Maybe part of him likes that, though, because he likes the amusement that’s creeping through the exhaustion that radiates from you.

“Gareth’s asked for Saturday to be ‘team bonding’. Something fun but also compelling, you know, pictures to get the public on side. I’m drawing a fucking blank, because I normally bounce stuff off Tiff, but now all I’ve got is a big empty office and no ideas.”

It all comes out of you in a rush. A totally new side of you he hadn’t expected to be let in on when he offered to help with the equipment, but somehow it felt like a privilege. You’d spoken every day for a week, yes, but just small talk, stupid talk that he often walked away from annoyed with himself. Still, he couldn’t have been doing too badly at trying to be your friend if you were willing to open up like this, and the thought made him proud.

Jamie still didn’t think he was very good at making friends. Maybe he could go home with a new one (if he could make himself forget how pretty you really were).

“Y’ literally couldn’t have asked a better person for this,” Jamie grinned, trying to alleviate some of the stress that had collected between your eyebrows, “Answer’s staring you in the face, you know?”

You glared at him. Okay, not the right thing to say. He hoped you’d forgive him when he pointed behind you and you turned. The back wall of your office was entirely made of glass, a window that overlooked the huge indoor swimming pool that the training complex housed. When you turned back to Jamie, you just looked confused.

“The pool?”

“Not just the pool. Pool party. Footballers go fuckin’ crazy for ‘em, trust me. Y’ can’t lose, cause you’ll get a load of pictures of us lookin’ relaxed an’ fun an’ shit. Never know, some people might enjoy the fact we’ll be half naked. Win-win.”

You nodded slowly, still thinking. The furrow in your brow was lifting. Jamie wanted to high five himself far too enthusiastically.

“I’m not one to exploit you lot for your looks…” you begin, and yeah, Jamie knows he maybe shouldn’t have added that bit. Maybe that part of him he was trying to bury wanted to fluster you, “But the rest of what you said was good. Really good.”

“It was?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, Jamie! Thought you footballers were meant to have massive egos, huh?”

He knows you’re kidding around, but even the insinuation that he didn’t have a massive ego would have made almost everyone back home laugh. A lot. He liked glimpses into what you thought of him.

“Yeah, well, I’m hidin’ it under me hat,” he joked, a shit joke that you still laughed at, “If you get us some of those floaty things too, the ones kids have at their birthdays? Fuck, do you think we could get an obstacle course?”

He hears how childish it is when he says it, feels the pink blooming across his cheeks. He’s expecting a response that he’d usually get, something kind but placating. Instead you jump up and round the desk, giddy.

“Yes! The ones with a slide at the end, you’re a genius! Thank you so much, I really mean it, I’m going to go and run it by Gareth right now,” you’re already grabbing a notebook and pen, your diary, ready to rush out of the door. He might not have found a solution so quickly if he’d known it would cut your conversation short.

“Might want your shoes, love.”

That nickname just tumbles out of him. Now his face feels like it’s gone up in flames. You don’t react, not that he can see with you rushing back to put your shoes on with a muffled thanks spoken under the desk. You’re rushing out of the door when you shout back to him.

“Find me later and I’ll sneak you an ice cream!”

He chuckles, left alone in your office. It takes him a few moments, but when he catches himself stood there grinning to himself, he’s quick to jog out and in the direction of the pitch. There’s nothing like penalty practice to take his mind off the butterflies in his stomach.

---

You were true to your word. Even though you hadn’t been able to source him any ice cream later that day, much to your own annoyance however many times he told you it was fine, you’d found him in the hotel first thing Saturday morning with a Mr Whippy.

“I snuck out to an ice cream truck to finally keep my promise,” and you look so excited, that Jamie eats his Mr Whippy at 8am in the morning and enjoys it immensely. He begins to ask what ice cream trucks nearby are operating at 8am, but you shut him down immediately.

“I think you’ll really enjoy the pool party later,” you say once you’ve both finished your ice creams, because of course you got one for yourself too. Watching you eat your ice cream so quickly made him wonder if your promise had been for him or for yourself, “Pulled out all the stops. Gareth was thrilled with the idea.”

“Yeah, he pulled me aside yesterday about it. Y’ didn’t have to give me any credit, y’ know?”

“Uh, yes I did. It was your idea, idiot.”

It hadn’t even crossed his mind at the time that you might tell anyone he’d thought of it. Gareth had been really nice about it yesterday, said something about leadership qualities that Jamie wishes Roy had been around to hear.

You rushed off again after that, but he was pleased to notice as you speed-walked away that you were wearing flats today. 

Jamie spent the rest of the morning with some of the lads he’d gotten on with best so far. Even though he’d sorted things with the City boys and spoke to them often, he was surprised to find that the ones he’d become closest to were the others from the smaller clubs in the league, lads who’d also come to camp on their own without any club teammates. Rife was one of them, even though he was West Ham, along with Pattinson, or Patty, and Gondo. The four of them would sit in Rife’s room, cause it was biggest, and just piss about really. Patty had ended up flooding the bathroom once.

After a morning spent playing Mario Kart on Gondo’s switch, which Jamie was fucking great at, even if he said so himself, the four of them made their way out of the hotel and walked over to the training complex.

“I heard it’s a pool party,” Patty said, eyes lighting up, “Hope so. Fucking class idea, that.”

Jamie could feel himself talking before he registered it.

“You know Y/N? Think she’s the one who planned the whole thing,” he supplies, watching as the three boys nod appreciatively. He hopes at least one of them will thank you for your hard work at some point during the afternoon. Rife gives him a funny look as they enter the pool, but Jamie takes no notice.

They’d clearly gotten carried away with their Grand Prix, because everything was in full swing by the time they’d gotten changed and entered the pool area. There were unicorn rubber rings that some of the boys were jumping into the water with, a huge obstacle course over to the left that people were racing on, both the team and some of the backroom staff were joining in. Jamie was amazed you’d been able to put all this together in just a few days and he was proud of himself too, for the idea. It was something he thought he might text his mum about later, so she could be proud of him too.

It didn’t take him long to spot you, likely because he was actively looking for you. You were stood by yourself over by the inflatable obstacle course, holding something on the wall, but watching the scene in front of you with a bright smile. Rife nudged him in the back of the shoulder and looked over at you.

“Fuck off,” Jamie mumbled, but he was walking over to you anyway and he knew Rife was decent enough not to say anything to the other lads and turn it into a whole thing. It wasn’t a thing anyway. He was just trying to do the right thing, like he always was nowadays, by going over to thank you for putting on such a fun time for everyone.

“Pool party, eh? Musta taken some kind of hotshot genius to come up with that one,” he says as he comes to a stop next to you against the wall. You screw your eyes shut like you’re thinking.

“Think it was just a run of the mill genius, if I remember,” you tease, and your bright smile is always blinding but he can’t help but wish it was only ever directed at him, “A run of the mill genius who is late, I might add.”

“Ah, you know it takes a lot of effort to look this good,” he says, gesturing down at his bare chest and black swim trunks. He hopes, because you didn’t know him during his prick days, that you know he isn’t being serious as he would have been a few years ago. There’s still a tiny whoosh of his heartbeat in his ears when your eyes travel down his body and back up again.

“I can only imagine,” you say, a blatant lie when you look as good as you do in your wrap dress, Richmond red this time. He’d think you were doing it on purpose if that wasn’t outlandish, “Now, go on, go and enjoy it! We’ve only got the obstacle course for three hours and no one’s been able to pry King away from it.”

Sure enough, when Jamie glances over, King is pulling Gondo over to race him because ‘no one’s ever gonna beat my record’. Even though that’s his cue to stop spending his team bonding time chatting to you, he can’t help but let his eyes drift to the air hose that you’re holding against the wall.

“Is ya arm not crampin’?”

You try and angle your body so he can’t see your arm.

“All good!”

“Excuse me language, but what the fuck are you holdin’?”

Your sigh comes out frustrated and you relent as you turn and switch arms, shaking out the other one vigorously.

“It’s the air pipe or whatever you call it. For the inflatable. It has to go through this window to the pump on the other side at this exact fucking angle otherwise it doesn’t stay inflated. Found someone with a cheaper rate and this is what I get, the little fucker.”

He has to really fight not to chuckle when you spit out the last bit, because you’re clearly enraged about this very fun pool party. However funny he finds it, however, he can tell that you won’t take any jokes well, so instead he holds up a single finger and legs it out of the pool area.

It’s only a short jog down to the dressing room, where he finds a roll of duct tape in the first locker he checks. Footballers have all sorts of uses for the stuff. He practically sprints back to you with it in his hand and the prospect of solving an issue for you has him floating through the corridors.

He enters the pool area again and knows that he’s bounding over to you like an excitable puppy.

“Hold still, yeah?” he says, more out of breath than he’d hoped, but you’re staying still because you look a stunned by his sudden exit and return. He takes the opportunity to start wrapping the duct tape around the pipe, securing it to the wall with a few small pieces, then strengthening it with a longer ones. He takes one glance at your face, far closer to his than its ever been before, and decides he shouldn’t look at you.

Not with your parted lips and sparkly eyes and-

“Right, try takin’ your hand away, if ya would?”

You do so slowly, but the pipe holds in place, same angle, the obstacle course finally self-sufficient. The sound you let out can only be described as a squeal of glee, hands clasped in front of your beaming face.

“Running out of adjectives for you, Jamie Tartt,” you say happily, reaching out to push him in what he assumes is an affectionate gesture. He’s consumed by the sparks that follow your touch, so much so that he doesn’t correct his balance in time, and the floor around the pool is wet. A startled yelp leaves him as he falls backwards into the pool, arms flailing in what he assumes is not a sexy way.

He sees you with your arms stretched out, reaching out for him with your face an absolute picture, when he surfaces, running a hand through his hair as he gasps. When he looks around, most of the team is laughing and he joins in, shaking his head at some of them who are pointing.

“Hope one of you fuckers got that on camera,” he calls out to the other side of the pool and he gets a thumbs up along with more laughs from his teammates. He turns back to you as all the laughter dies down, sees you sporting a look that’s 50% guilt and 50% amusement.

“I’m so sorry, Jamie,” you breathe out, but it’s followed by an immediate giggle that you try to cover up. If you were in a swimsuit, or a bikini, god forbid because he might actually lose it, he’d pull you right in after him. As it is, he just tamely splashes your ankles.

“I’ll getcha for that. An’ after I just helped you, too.”

You grin.

“I’ll make it up to you. Right now actually,” he sees a new mischief on your face that scares him, “Hey! Make sure you don’t get this one, alright? I fucking mean it!”

The cameraman you’re gesturing to nods and looks scared, pressing buttons on his camera. Jamie’s still looking up at you from his spot treading water in the pool, a mixture of anticipation and pure fucking awe on his face.

“It’s a pool party, right?” you grin, then jump into the pool next to him, still in your dress. The whole place cheers as you come up to the surface, laughing and flicking your hair out of your face. 

Jamie feels like all his breath has been stolen from him as he watches you try to keep the skirt of your dress from floating upwards too much. He’s totally transfixed. Can’t believe his luck when you’re looking at him again. “We’re even?”

He can’t find words, so he just nods. You swim closer to him, taking a glance on your way, at everyone else presumably to check the attention had turned elsewhere. When you’re sure it has, you whisper to him.

“I know all you’ve done since getting here is be my personal knight in shining armour, but could I ask one more favour?”

Again, no words. He wants to reach out and curl his finger into one of your wet strands of hair. Wants to dunk you under the water. Wants to kiss the living daylights out of you.

Oh fuck. He just nods again, dumbstruck

“Think you could give me a boost? I didn’t think about getting out of this pool gracefully.”

You gesture to the side of the pool. Jamie wonders if he’d died on the way over to the complex earlier and now he was in heaven.

“Uh, yeah. If you’re sure?”

“Please,” you confirm, swimming over to the side and he follows, just like he always does, watching as you brace your arms against the side. He gulps as he places two tentative hands around your waist, then tightens his grip as he pushes you upwards until you can turn and sit on the side of the pool. The hem of your dress brushes his chest in the process and he almost swallows some of the pool water.

Once you’re sat on the edge, feet dangling, he’s just a few inches away from being able to rest his head on your knees as he stares up at you. He feels like his heart is running away from him. You lean down to thank him softly before you stand up, wringing the water out of your dress as you strike up a conversation with one of the coaches on the sidelines about your recklessness.

Those fucking butterflies are fluttering up a storm in Jamie’s stomach, crowding his chest, getting in his head. Yeah, he’s found you attractive from day one, wanted to be your friend from day two. Now he’s that stupid word that Colin always uses to describe Dani when he has a new girl, but he just can’t remember it.

It comes to him when he’s staring at his bedroom ceiling late at night, thinking until he makes his head hurt. Smitten. He’s fucking smitten.

next chapter

---

if you read this far, as usual, i fucking love you <3 also, this chapter is partly based on something the actual england team did before the euros a few years ago, if anyone knows what i'm on about i love you even more ahaha

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt series #be still my foolish heart

[bookshelf-in-progress]

What the hey. I'll ask for some feedback right here on the blog.

I haven't touched my "Twelve Dancing Princesses" retelling in a while because I'm unsure about the style. When I was brainstorming a list of retelling possibilities, the first line of this one jumped out at me and made me start writing in a non-traditional point-of-view. I like the intimacy of it, but the story started expanding into more detail than I initially intended, so I'm not sure if it serves the story or just makes it more confusing. If you stumbled on a story written like this unawares, would it still make sense, etc.?

So I'm posting the first couple of scenes (2,400 words) to give you a taste of what it would be. It's still pretty rough, so there are some things about character and plot that don't make complete sense, but I could use some general feedback about readability. Is it worth continuing in this way or should I overhaul it to something more traditional? Is the story worth continuing at all? And so on.

(FYI: This is a retelling of the French version of the fairy tale, popularized by Andrew Lang, so all unique details come from that version).

Unseen: A Retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses

We go to the same garden every day, but you never see me. Why should you? You are the Princess Sonatina, youngest daughter of the greatest king on five continents, while I am only a gardener's assistant, with not even a surname of my own, except one that was given to me half as a taunt for my daydreaming ways. If you were ever to ask, I would tell you I answer to Michael Stargazer--but you never will think to ask, and I will never presume to speak.

Instead, I work silently in the gardens, while you wander past with your sisters--eleven of them, all unsurpassed in beauty of face and form and voice--laughing and chatting and singing snatches of songs. You are, all of you, more beautiful and vibrant than any of the flowers I tend, and I feel more alive just being near you.

Then the day comes when your morning songs are silent. You drag weary feet through the gardens, look blankly at the beauties of the world, lounge wearily along the edges of fountains and atop retaining walls. The rumor comes that every night, you are--all of you--wearing through your shoes.

Were I a prince, I would think no quest too perilous to save you from such sickness. I would climb a million trees in search of golden apples, cross storm-filled oceans in search of the Water of Life, work a dozen years at impossible tasks to find the key to ending your curse.

But I'm only a gardener, and nobody's son, so it falls to those with name and fortune to try their hands at saving you. The king has vowed that the man who finds the secret of where you go at night will win your hand in marriage, and there are many who are willing and worthy to try.

They are wonderful men--strong and handsome, noble and brave, with royal titles, vast holdings, great fortunes, and skills and talents that a simple gardener could never match. Any one of them would make a fine husband for a princess. Yet all of them, to a man, disappear within a day of taking up their task.

The rumors turn darker then, casting you not as victims but villains, luring men to their deaths with some dark magic of your own. Those who say such things did not see you in the gardens, or that would know that not one of you is capable of anything near what they accuse you of. Unfortunately, no one will ask a garden lad's thoughts, and I cannot speak unbidden unless I have proof.

So I go to the gardens and find two tiny rose trees. The head gardener tried to tear them out, in my first days at the palace, and I convinced him to let them live. I have watered them, fed them, saved them from disease and decay, told them stories of the princesses they serve. You have never seen them, I'm sure--you have never seen me--but though they are small, they are fine little plants, with dark, glossy green leaves, and little buds that seem always to be waiting for just the right time to bloom. An old woman told me once that they were wishing trees, planted in the earliest days of the kingdom's existence, and my service to them meant I had only to speak to them, and they would give me whatever I asked.

For myself, I want nothing--wishes too easily become the ruin of those who have them granted--but for you, I would dare all. I ask my two rose trees to make me not only unseen, but unseeable, able to follow wherever you go without detection.

The rose tree sprouts a single bloom, its petals so white and delicate they are almost transparent. When I pluck it from the bush, I disappear from sight. I place it in my buttonhole and move about the gardens, unseen by all who cross my path, even in the brightest sun.

That night, I follow you into the bedroom you share with your sisters, and I hide beneath the largest bed while the room above fills with the sounds of rustling dresses, clinking jewels, and girlish whispers. At last, your eldest sister Aria declares you dressed to perfection and calls for silence.

I creep out from under the bed and find you and your sisters dressed in ballroom finery--silks and satins and twelve pairs of perfectly-mended dancing shoes. I take my place just behind you, and find you more beautiful than ever in this moonlit room.

Aria pulls aside a tapestry, and the blank stone wall suddenly becomes an open doorway leading to a torchlit staircase. You all rush through in single file. I keep close at your heels, afraid that I'll be left behind unseen if I give the door a chance to close.

Aria stands back to hold open the tapestry. I rush past where she stands, afraid she'll follow too close and crash into my unseen form. In doing so, I trod too close to your skirt, and the fabric tears beneath my foot as you take your first steps down the stairs.

You shriek and grab hold of Lyra, standing just before you on the stairs. "Someone stood on my skirt!" you scream.

I hold myself flat against the damp stone wall, heart pounding so fast that I'm certain you hear me.

Aria breezes down the staircase, head held high, the crown princess rolling her eyes at her foolish juniors. "Don't be silly, Tina," Aria says. "I was nowhere near you on the stairs."

You protest that you felt someone on your skirt, but your cries for belief are drowned out by eleven dissenting voices, and they all continue down the staircase. You go only reluctantly, looking back at me--right through me--a thousand times as you go forth. Were it not for the weight of my mission, I would cast off the rose in the hope of a single moment when our eyes could truly meet.

After what seems like a million stairs, we emerge into an open clearing that would look like the outdoors if there was any sight of sky above. Trees tower over us with drops of silver on their branches, like rain upon the leaves. Further down the path is a gold-spattered orchard, each precious drop catching the soft white light that comes from I know not where. Even further beyond is a forest full of diamonds, every stone flashing rainbows that remind me of the fire in your eyes.

The forests are strange, but also strangely unsurprising--as though they've always been here, but simply unseen. Your sisters whisper of the night that this place was wished into existence--a place where they might revel in pure beauty and joy, away from the weighty eyes of the watchful world. But the forest, it seems, is only a prelude--the true marvel is far ahead. We emerge onto the shores of a shimmering lake--so vast, so deep, and so darkly blue that I can see neither the bottom nor the opposite shore. On an island in its center stands a castle so magnificent that it makes your father's palace seem like a paper toy. Its white, sculpted spires glitter with gems in a thousand colors, every brick spangled with precious stones. Its windows hold wonders caught in flawless stained glass. Music sweeter than any I've ever heard pours out its open doors, and the light from within forms a shining path across the lake--upon which float twelve sleek obsidian-colored boats.

Each boat has a boatman who rows swiftly toward the shore, and as they approach, I find that I know all the faces. Every one of these men is a prince who failed at finding your secret--or rather, they found it, and did not return. They are dressed in silks and velvets unlike any I've seen in the outer world, too rich for comprehension. As they slide up to the shore and each offer a place to one of you girls, they wear smiles that shine as bright as your own--but there is also something empty in their eyes.

You, as the youngest, take your place in the very last boat of all, piloted by a king's younger son whose sires have ruled half a continent for centuries. He smiles and bows as he takes you by the hand. The way your eyes light up make me wonder if I've seen what you look like in love.

The prince rows with arms strengthened by a warrior's skill--I doubt he's ever held a shovel in his life--but the other boats still outpace us by far.

"Why are you so slow tonight?" you ask him, half teasing, but with a trace of true annoyance.

"The boat is heavy," he says, "and I know not why."

You glance backward, toward where I sit in the stern, and again, I half-wish you could see me. But I let out a sigh of relief when you turn your eyes back toward the castle and give no further thought to unknowable truths.

We disembark on a dock just beneath the castle entrance, and in moments we are inside the palace of enchantment itself. This is a ballroom beyond what I could imagine--floors of marble streaked with gold and silver, towering windows displaying fantastical birds and beasts, spidery silver chandeliers holding thousands of brightly-lit candles, and at the far end of the room, tables tottering beneath food enough to feed an army, and half a nation besides.

But this splendor is nothing compared to the beauty of the music. It is like a living thing--vibrant, rapturous, all-consuming, pulling all into it like a roaring, flowing river, so the moment one steps through the door, there is nothing one can do but dance. Your prince pulls you into his arms, and your sisters' princes do the same, and soon you are swirling through that wondrous room, beauty and motion and life all brought to their fullness and put into perfect order.

All along the edges of that room are other faces--other princes who've failed at your father's quest--and they all take their turn in the dance. If I thought you alive in the gardens, you are a thousand times more vibrant now, laughing and dancing  so you glow with pure joy. These princes are your perfect partners, matching you with every step, reflecting the glow that you bring to the room. If I ever thought that I could take a place beside them, maybe win your father's wager and claim a princess for my bride, that spark is snuffed by the brightness of your blaze. You are ethereal, almost angelic, and could never be happy with one whose hands are stained from working with the common, solid Earth.

While the princes take their turns, you and your sisters dance without ceasing, and I no longer wonder how you could wear through your shoes in a single night. Those shoes are little more than tatters by the time the last note of the last dance plays, and the twelve of you trudge toward the boats to reach bed. Your princes are silent as they row the boats to the forested shore, and you, Sonantina, do not say a word about his slowness.

When you reach the banks, the prince bids you farewell, then all twelve of them row back to the palace, choosing to stay in the splendor rather than return to the pressures of their ordinary lives. After what I have seen, I cannot blame them for their choice.

But you and your sisters choose to return to your father. You trudge through the diamond, then gold, then silver-speckled forests, and as your sisters file one-by-one up the staircase, I realize that none of this fantastic tale will have a ring of truth unless I have something to bring as proof. I reach toward the nearest tree and snap off a slender branch. It disappears from sight as soon as I touch it to my clothes, but the sound of its breaking rings through that silent wood like a gunshot.

You jump at the sound, and are suddenly wide, wide awake.

"What was that?" you ask your sister.

Aria once again rolls her eyes. "Only an owl," she says. "You know it roosts in the castle at night."

The explanation does not please you, I can tell, but having no other, you fall silent and leave the silver woods behind.

When you are all safely asleep in bed, I slip unseen through the door and make my way invisibly to my small cot in the servants' quarters. When I lay on my bunk, I take off the rose, and my face reappears in the reflection off the washing bowl. I look as I did before I left, though infinitely wearier, and perhaps--though it might only be fancy--I carry something in my eyes of the enchantment of the night.

In my hands sits the branch I broke, its leaves as green, its silver dewdrops as solid, as they were in that fantastical land. I imagine myself taking it to the king at dawn, having triumphed where the sons of kings and emperors have failed.

Then I imagine the you and your sisters standing by. In a horrible flash, the daydream shatters, and I see myself for what I am--a sneak and a spook, who crept uninvited into a strange woman's room to steal evidence that would cut her off completely from the place she loves most in the world. If I have a role in this tale, it is as the villain, not the hero. I have triumphed in discovering the secret, but if I have any love in my heart for you, I cannot think of speaking.

After a short hour's sleep, I awake with the dawn, but I do not go to the king with what I've found.

Instead, I go to the head gardener and get myself assigned the task of bringing the twelve princesses their morning bouquets. I gather careful handfuls of daisies and larkspur and bind them together with handfuls of greenery. I hand them to your sisters one by one as they come bleary-eyed to your bedroom door. When you come to me, last of all, I make sure that your bouquet contains a single silver-spangled branch.

Then, at last, you see me.

#adventures in writing #fairy tale retellings #the twelve dancing princesses

[ruggiethethuggie]

Happy Birthday, Astie !

Summary: Jamil invites you over super early before you have to start your day. But why?

WC: 1062 Tags: Jamil x reader, fluff, gn!reader, self insert for Astie because I said so, Jamil cook the food, Kalim is the sunshine baby in the sky in teletubbies

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @astiesgoldenberry ! For me it’s still the day before, but I hope that you have a good day today. I know you said you have a bunch of shit to do, but I believe in you. Jamil believes in you. I love you, I hope you enjoy this and have a beautiful birthday!

It was still dark outside, the early morning sun not even fully arisen in the sky yet. You smacked your phone trying to turn off the blaring alarm coming from it. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you repeated over and over until your fingers finally found the button to silence it. You looked at your phone, seeing just how early it was. Why of all days does today have to be the day I have to get up early, you thought to yourself as you let out a long exhale. Your day was about to be busy, full of running around and finishing school projects, there wasn’t going to be a moment to breathe it felt like. Just as you were rolling out of bed to get ready, your phone vibrated. Why is someone messaging you this early, now is not the time.

You aggressively snatched your phone off the bed and huffed as you opened your notifications, all animosity you had left you as you saw the name across your new messages. Jamil. He was always up this early too, probably making sure Kalim was awake and getting ready for his own classes. You opened his message.

[Jamil] hey, come to the dorm before your classes (: and don’t say you don’t have time, I know you can spare a minute or two

[Y/N] if you think I am coming over to help you get Kalim ready, then I refuse lol he can be late for class

You laughed as you sent the message. You assumed that wasn’t why Jamil wanted you to come over anyway, but it was funny to tease him a little bit. As you finished getting dressed, he texted back.

[Jamil] pfft, he’s already up and awake, stop playing around and come over already

[Y/N] okk, fineeeee ;D

After sending the message, you threw your shoes on and headed out of your dorm. The sun was starting to rise now, giving you a beautiful visual on your way to Scarabia’s dorm. You were wondering why Jamil really asked you to come over at the crack of dawn, but maybe seeing him so early in the day would be a good sign that your day would be a good one. Jamil always made you feel safe and centered, there was no stress when you were with him. And given the enormous list of tasks you had on your to-do list for today, this would be the highlight of your day.

You arrived at the Scarabia dorm, texting him to let him know you were here instead of knocking and waking up those that were still asleep. You hit send and within a few seconds saw Jamil in front of you holding the door open. “Were you just waiting for me at the door?” you teased. Jamil looked like he had been up for a little bit, already fully dressed and wide awake. There’s no way he just woke up a few minutes ago, you thought to yourself. Jamil smiled at you as you came inside the dorm and followed behind him. “Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t,” he shrugged and then gave a soft laugh.

He was leading you towards the kitchen, a common place where the two of you spent time together. Every time you came over to Scarabia, Jamil enjoyed showing you his cooking skills and even helped teach you new ways to cook things. You weren’t allowed to cook a lot at home, so it was nice having someone so willing to teach you and help you learn. As you got to the kitchen doors, Jamil paused and turned to you. “Okay, before we go inside, you have to close your eyes,” he said with a beaming smile. “Close my eyes? You better not lead me into a snake pit, Mr. Viper,” you giggled as you closed your eyes. You held out your hand and Jamil took it as he led you through the doors. You could tell there were more people in the kitchen from the small hushes and shh’s you heard.

Jamil led you to the table and sat you down. “Can I open my eyes yet?” you asked. The crowd at the table whispered to each other. Jamil was standing behind your chair and leaned down in your ear and spoke. “Sure, open your eyes.” You opened your eyes to see a whole entourage of Scarabia students in front of you smiling. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!!!” they all shouted. Jamil led the group in singing to you happy birthday as you looked around the room in awe. He had got the whole dorm together just to have them wish you a happy birthday? As they finished singing, you clapped your hands and smiled widely. “Jamil, what is all this?!” you exclaimed. 

“That’s not all!” Kalim shouted from across the table and then proceeded to get up and run to the kitchen counter. He grabbed a tray that was there, carried it over, and set it down in front of you. You looked at the dish in front of you and then up at Kalim. “You made this?” you asked surprised. “Oh, god no, Jamil’s been up for hours just to make sure it was perfect for you,” he said as he put his hand on Jamil’s shoulder. Jamil must’ve not wanted you to know he had been up for those hours as he shyly looked away as Kalim boasted about him.

The dish in front of you was one of your favorites. The thought that Jamil had made it for you made your heart swoon. The champorado in the bowl looked amazing, Jamil must’ve been up early soaking the rice this morning. “How’d you know this was my favorite?” you asked Jamil as he sat down beside you. “What do you mean? You told me a long time ago it was your favorite. I just wanted you to have it for your birthday,” he replied. You smiled down at your bowl of food and then looked back at Jamil. “Thank you, I appreciate you a lot. This is definitely giving me the boost I needed to get me through this long day~” Jamil pulled your face close to his and gave your forehead a gentle kiss. “You might have a long day, but it’ll be a good day. Happy birthday, mahal ko.”

Credit: Birthday divider

© please do not copy and or repost my work as your own, my brain is massive and these are my thoughts.

#~.twst #~.writing #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper fluff #jamil viper #jamil x reader #HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASTIE !

[midwesternwitchery]

Die Sonne Part 2 Apex!Alpha!König x Omega!Fem!OC

A/N- No real warnings yet. Some slight prejudice to Apex Alphas. Bondage "For safety". a/b/o dynamics. I think that's it. I have 2 more chapters rough drafted will be editing over the next few days. I'm hoping to make this a 10-15ish part series but who knows! Thank you for taking the time to read my work. reblogs and likes appreciated!

~

König received the call 3 days into his leave, that morning he’d been trying to figure out what to do with himself. He was considering flying back to Germany to visit with is Mother, however it seemed destiny had different plans for him.

His phone rang, shrill and loud, vibrating where it sat on the kitchen counter. He stared for a moment at his phone frozen when he saw the compatibility service number flash across the screen. He realized it wasn’t the normal number he received the rejection calls from. He snatched the phone up and answered with a quick “Ja?” 

“Yes, hello is this a Mr.König?” The voice was female, likely a beta, as most of the service consisted of them. Something about keeping neutrality during the matching process. 

“Ja. This is me.” König responded, his English was thick, slightly accented, though he’d worked hard to learn English, he would never really loose the Austrian accent. 

“Sir my name is Tara and I’m calling you from MatchMakes about the application you submitted.” She paused before continuing. “Would you be able to come in to the office for a meeting today?” 

König felt his heart stop beating for a moment. Time seemed to slow down as he processed what the beta- Tara- was asking. Come to the office? He’d been denied several times due to his Apex Alpha state, but he’d never been asked to come in, they had always called. Did this mean they had a potential mate, for him? The possibility that he could have his very own omega was almost impossible with his second gender. Most omega’s weren’t willing to even be around Apex Alphas, given their aggressive reputation, let alone consider mating with one, a lesson König had learned too early in life. He didn’t even know if there was an omega or if this was a ruse to get him in the office for yet another rejection.

He shook his head sharply before barking out a simple, “When?” The beta responded, “Today- actually, now if you’re able?” König couldn’t believe it, he had to ask. “This meeting… what is this about exactly?” 

Tara paused considering her words. “An omega selected you. She would like to move to the next step and meet.” Tara took a breath before continuing. “I have advised her of your status as an Apex Alpha. She would still like to meet with you, that is if you are still interested in a mate?” 

“JA! I- I mean yes yes I am interested! I’m leaving now. Thank you.” König hung up the phone as he was striding out the door, stopping only to grab his keys. 

The drive didn’t take him long, not with the speeds he was hitting. All he could think of was that he had a chance, finally someone wanted to give him a chance. He had worked his way up the ranks of the Austrian Special Forces, fought countless battles, killed hundreds in the name of his country, but nothing scared him like this. His anxiety only got worse the closer he got to the MatchMakes HQ, which was not helping his alpha side any. 

He parked his truck and quickly made his way into the building. The lobby was wide and empty save a few chairs scattered along the far wall. The reception desk sat centered in the main area, elevators to the left. His military issue boots rang out as he stalked across the black tile floor to the desk. 

The receptionist looked at him with wide eyes as he approached. He could only imagine how she must view him as he stood there towering over her in his sniper veil, he didn’t use scent blockers to cover his Apex status as it usually worked to his advantage in the field, so he knew she realized what he was. She pointed to the elevators, her eyes averted, not wanting to provoke his alpha, and murmured, “It’s the 19th floor sir.” He nodded his thanks to her as he made his way to the elevators. 

Once he stepped out of the elevator he was met by a beta female.

“Mr. König? I’m Tara, we spoke earlier.” Tara smiled at him, though it seemed strained. 

He could see the tightness in her lips, her body language seeming neutral, though he knew better. This beta wasn’t thrilled with him being selected. She probably thought he would tear the little omega apart piece by piece, or she thought he was undeserving, as so many others did. 

The stigma of being an Apex Alpha followed him everywhere, even though he’d worked hard over the years since he presented to gain control over his alpha side. Being in the military helped him, gave him an outlet for all his aggression and most importantly training to master his will. He knew the type of alpha Tara was weary of. Had plenty of experience dealing with the darker sides of the military including other Apex Alphas. 

König nodded to her. Looking around he spied a male beta through the glass window of the conference room. There was a long hallway with several doors off of it. He sniffed the air catching a whisper of something…..sweet. Like a memory from childhood, just out of his reach. 

Tara cleared her throat, gaining his attention. “You are aware of the rules?” her voice was firm, leaving no room for a misunderstanding. Holding her fingers up in tandem as she ticked off each rule, setting König’s teeth on edge. 

“You will be blindfolded and bound in place. You are not to touch unless the omega initiates. You may ask her questions but above all else you are not to use your compulsion on her. She runs this show, any other time your alpha side may be in charge but during this meeting her word is law.” 

Taking a breath she continues, “If any of these rules are broken you will be held and turned over to the authorities. Do I make myself clear?” Her eyes were sharp taking in his every movement.

König ducked his head and muttered a quiet, “Yes ma’am. I understand.” 

She looked him over for a moment before turning and signaling the male beta. “Follow me please. I’ll show you to the conference room where you will meet the omega. Elias will bring her in once you are secured.” Tara turned walking down the hall to another door. She unlocked and opened the door she turned to face him. 

Before she could speak he asked her, “What is her name?” Tara stopped short, her gaze was soft for a moment, “Oh. Mina. Her name is Mina.” 

Tara swept her arm out and gestured for him to enter the large room. Looking around it seemed better cared for than the lobby had. There were plush couches with pillows and throws to the left side of the room set up like a makeshift nest. To the right was a long conference table outfitted with computers and chairs surrounding it. However the center of the room held König's attention the longest.

Before him was a platform of sorts with a chair attached to the floor. Bindings were attached to the legs and arms of the iron chair. A small table sat beside it on the raised platform, resting on top were several small bowls of fruits and cheese and a blindfold. König walked to the chair and sat, looking at Tara expectantly.

She blinked at him as if she was surprised at how docile he was. He guessed she thought he would be difficult or even angry at the prospect of being restrained in such a way, but König understood it. The reasoning was solid in his mind. Apex Alphas more often than not have little control over their secondary gender. It only makes sense to do all of this to put the omega-Mina- at ease. He didn’t want to scare her, so if this is what he would need to do then he was determined to do it. 

Once restrained, Tara stepped back reaching out for the blindfold she secured it over his eyes. With a quiet “Please wait here she will be along soon.” she was gone. Leaving König to stew in his anxiety. He didn’t particularly like being trussed up in such a way, but he was willing to do whatever it takes to put his omega at ease. 

Minutes or maybe it was hours that passed as he waited for his omega. Wait no she isn’t his yet, he cannot allow himself to think that way before he’s even met her. Its her decision ultimately, he only hopes she isn’t disappointed or afraid of him. If she was to reject him, he hoped she would be quick about it. Hopefully his size isn’t too intimidating since he was sitting, he was hyper aware of how others received him due to his size. 

He was still trying to calm his racing mind when he heard the door open slowly. His body stilled when it hit him, her scent. Vanilla, cinnamon and something else he couldn’t quite name. He’d only gotten a small taste of her intoxicating scent in the hallway, this was so much more than that. She smelled of the custard his mother makes for the holidays. It was heavenly, addicting, like he was drowning in it, sitting there in a daze as he waited to see what she would do. His inner alpha was clawing at the walls trying to get out, to get to her. But for all his inward turmoil, his body betrayed nothing. 

However she just stood there taking him in the way he was her. He realized he should probably speak to her, say hello, something anything, but he didn’t want to startle her. He wanted her to come to him he realized. His inner Apex Alpha snarled at him from inside his head- MINE. My Omega. Shes mine. 

König smiled behind his mask as he thought the same- Mine

#alpha/beta/omega könig #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o au #könig x fem oc #first real work please be nice

[cassynite]

Look guys! I can still write!

Done for Owlcatober's prompts 4: Luck and 22: Nobility. Have some very early Sparrow and Daeran interactions :)

--

Sparrow had been very lucky, all things considered. Lucky to have found an artificer who might help with the problem prickling at the base of her neck. Lucky that he was willing to meet with her, to undo a Cheliaxian tracking brand for the right price. Lucky to have survived whatever attack had given her the ever-bleeding wound on her chest, as well as the demonic attack that tore the city in two afterwards.

She's no believer in fate, but luck is chance, a die cast to fall on the six. Though it's random, the patterns in the chaos can be a comfort, even if the comfort is a lie. Sparrow is used to hoarding the moments of good luck she receives, counting them out like coins and budgeting them the same way, stretching out the hope they offer as far as it can go. The string of good events can give her the strength to push on past the bad ones--that she is trapped in a burning city under demonic siege to begin with, that the man who had offered her salvation is very likely dead.

All streaks of luck must come to an end, however, the pattern returning to random chance once more. And Sparrow finds the end of hers in a broken banquet hall, staring at the one man who might destroy the last remnants of her plans to escape with just a few simple words.

In retrospect, Sparrow should have anticipated the complication. When the liveried footman who had begged for the help of her and her companions mentioned the surname "Arendae," Sparrow had recognized it from the snatches of conversation she regularly overheard during her mandatory appearance at Mendevian court functions. Old family, old blood, royally inclined, marked in tragedy.

But the Count Arendae, known for his raucous parties and and his disregard for social norms, lived in Kenabres, and his time in Nerosyan was filled with events Sparrow rarely attended. They'd crossed paths, but briefly, and the incidents were of so little note Sparrow barely remembered them.

However, after the demons are left bleeding on the floor of a party that had been going well into the destruction of the city, the glittering aasimar who had fought instead of cowered steps forward with a cold green gaze that focuses on her immediately out of the group, and Sparrow realizes that she had miscalculated. She might have only barely remembered him, but he somehow remembered her as well, and recognizes who she is.

The count gives an elaborate bow. "Greetings, valiant stranger who has just burst into my life. I am master of this house, Count Daeran Kael 'Myriad-Mellifluous-Monikers' Arendae. No need to introduce yourself--"

I already recall the last time we met in Nerosyan, Lady Evaethi, Sparrow hears, and steps forward before the count can finish his sentence. "I am called Sparrow." The words come out a little too forceful.

The count raises a single golden brow, amused and condescending all at once. "--As I was saying, I find insignificant details such as the names of passing acquaintances a bore." He gives her a mocking smile and says nothing else about the matter, not even as the rest of her companions begin to make comments. It doesn't ease the tension ready to break Sparrow's spine; she's on the knife's edge of this conversation, and the count can turn the blade whenever he likes. He knows it, too, judging by the looks he gives her as he trades insults with Lann about his curtains.

"Now that we're finished with the niceties," the count finally says, "tell me--how did all these thrice-damned demons end up at my soiree?"

There is a pause where someone needs to answer, and doesn't. Sparrow can feel the others' gazes on her, crawling on her skin--she'll never get used to this, the way that the people she fights with cede the space to her to answer the questions, take charge. She never asked for it, did less than nothing to imply she wanted it or was qualified for the role, and yet the righteous paladin, the savvy hunter, the sharp-tongued noble, they all look to her to be their leader.

When she answers, her words are stilted and blunt. "Demons attacked the city. Kenabres is in ruins." There's a murmur of shock, not from the count but from the other party attendants. Sparrow had almost forgotten they were there.

"I wanted to ask if you were joking, but what little expression you have tells me you are not." He turns his attention to the curtains he had just been inviting Lann to blow his nose on, seeing the telltale flicking light of raging fire through the gaps in the velvet.

The conversation turns away from Sparrow, letting her step back as her companions trade verbal blows with the count--Seelah in half-amused disapproval at the count's callous lack of regard for the situation at hand, Camellia making unsubtle hints to the count's terrible childhood losses as if it were ever an appropriate thing to bring up, and Ember successfully disarming the count's barbed tongue if only for a second by her genuine distress at the thought that the count could not have a lamb as a pet.

The entire time, though, she feels the count's attention never truly leave her. Paranoia, perhaps, but he knows, he has to be asking questions about how and why, and even if he isn't questioning her identity now in front of her companions, that doesn't mean he won't. He could just be waiting for the right moment, the perfect time to strike--Sparrow's impression of him in Nerosyan had been vague, but his defining feature had been his propensity for cruelty as entertainment.

She wanted away from the count and his malice as quickly as possible, so she finally gathers the courage to step forward, addressing the room at large. "The Defender's Heart has been fortified under the Eagle Watch. It should be safe."

The other drunken nobles and poor servants at this revel take Sparrow's flat statement as the call to action it's meant to be, gathering in groups and approaching Seelah, who is more than happy to provide help and instructions on safe passages to the tavern. But the count doesn't turn his attention from Sparrow.

"I thank you dearly for the invitation," he gives another mocking bow, "but I am not quite as desperate as I may seem. In fact, I do feel like stretching my legs. I know rudimentary divine spells, I am no friend to demons, and I elevate any society that I deign to grace with my presence. I shall accompany you--only for a short time, of course. I have no desire to remain at the vanguard for a protracted period. What say you, my ephemeral but highly diverting acquaintance? After all, Lord Deskari spoiled my party. I now burn with the desire to spoil his."

Highly diverting acquaintance. He's laughing under the thick coat of false sincerity. She wants to tell him no, but she can't afford to. The city is burning to ash around them, and no matter the count's true intentions, she saw what he did to the demons in that fight. They need all the help they can get.

She gives a small, shallow nod, half-hoping the count doesn't see her acquiesce.

Of course, he does. "Capital. Good acquaintances that begin and end at just the right moment often leave the most pleasant memories, wouldn't you say?"

Sparrow ruminates on his words for a long time after, as they continue to claw their way through the demons in the Market Square and try to collect information and allies for the assault on the Gray Garrison. Did he mean to imply that their 'acquaintanceship' beginning at that moment meant he would not bring up her past? Or was it a veiled threat of some kind, the mention of memories an indication that he remembers her and will bring it up if she crosses him? She wouldn't even need to cross him, really; the count is notorious for destroying livelihoods and reputations out of boredom.

By the time the crew returns to the Defender's Heart for a much-needed rest and restocking, Sparrow decided to confront him about it. She hates the thought of it, but it needs dragged out in the open. Regardless of how it resolves, she will at least know where she stands, what to anticipate from him. She cannot continue with him as an unknown factor.

She finds the count near the sleeping quarters Irabeth insisted Sparrow still use, somehow having managed to snag one of the nicest chairs in the place. He's quiet, watching the survivors trying to create order out of the chaos of their situation: groups of injured and war-shocked civilians resting in clumps across the floor or consulting with a haggard Vissaliy and his assistant; the Eagle Watch and other soldiers discussing plans with shadowed gazes, or bartering with Gemyl for ale to drown the world out with; Irabeth grimly going over the assault plan with Anevia on the other side of the room; the Storyteller, still recovering from his burns, resting nearby; the rest of their companions, talking or preparing or simply sleeping. The count's expression is blank, and Sparrow wonders what he's thinking of, what story he is making out of the disorder.

Then his attention catches on her approach, and his eyes hood in disdain, a familiar mocking smirk spreading across his face. It's strange, the abruptness of it; Sparrow is reminded of a performer stepping out from the shadows into the spotlight of a stage.

"I must commend the crusade's choice on an outpost," he comments as Sparrow nears. "The very sight of these walls brings back such fond memories of drinks and revels."

Sparrow stops, the rehearsed opener she'd planned to drag out his intentions disappearing in an instant. "...I don't believe they had a choice," she says, wrong-footed. "It was the best available option at the time."

"So you plan on migrating all and sundry if a better symbol of shelter comes along then? A nice Iomadean cathedral would do nicely, I imagine. Though if I were a demon I would burn those down first."

Sparrow opens her mouth, then closes it. Finally, she says, "It wouldn't be up to me either way."

"Would it not? I'd taken from this endeavor that you're the banner these stalwart defenders are rallying behind, what with that angelic sword you can pull out. Where does it go, anyway, when you aren't talking down fanatical zealots from murdering supposed traitors?"

Sparrow looks away. She doesn't know--she doesn't know why she's able to wield a sword meant to burn mortals, or where it goes when it's not there other than in reach when she needs it. She doesn't know why the scar on her chest still bleeds, throbbing in pain, or what anyone in this tavern sees in her that makes them think she can appropriately lead anything. It's a yawning chasm of uncertainty she's been doing her best to ignore up until this point. She has no answers and no solutions, so there's no point in tackling it. At least, not until the immediate threat has been taken care of.

If the count expected an actual answer from her, he mercifully doesn't act like it. Resting his cheek in one long-fingered hand, he regards her with a catlike slyness, like he's silently laughing at a joke. "I shall admit, I did not quite expect to see you favor a celestially gifted weapon. Forgive me if I am incorrect in my understanding of your culture, but you prefer more...infernal sources of power, do you not?"

Sparrow lets the barb fly by painlessly; his misplaced insult is as good an opening as any. "About that. I would be grateful if you did not mention my...past...in front of others."

"But my lady, how could I deny a woman of such fine breeding as yourself the respect you deserve?" His smirk grows wider at whatever he sees on Sparrow's face. "To find the mouse of Nerosyan among these ruins was quite the surprise, and with such a different title than before--I would gently suggest changing your name, if you are open to constructive criticism. It's embarrassing to me to think that you picked such a moniker of your own free will."

Sparrow's hands find each other, fingers interlocking tightly together. "I have left that life behind me. What would you want to do the same?"

"Are you trying to bribe me?" The count barks out a delighted laugh. "This is straight out of some paltry penny novel--what are you even planning to offer? Money?" He laughs again, like that's the funniest thing in the world. "Or, what, your virtue or some other such nonsense?"

Sparrow stares until the laughter dies down, the mirth draining from the count's features. Finally, he scoffs and turns away from her silence.

"You really are the most tedious woman alive, aren't you," he mutters. "Let me be blunt: I could not care less what shade of youthful rebellion has led you to renouncing your identity and playacting a pauper. If you wish to be named after a bird, I will not stop you--go forth and chirp as you wish."

"You would swear to that?" Sparrow presses, and immediately regrets it. The emotion that flickers across the count's face is cold and snakelike, and it takes all of Sparrow's willpower not to rear back.

"I would not force some kind of oath from me, if I were you." The count's smile is poisonous. "I would feel the urge to break it out of spite. You will simply have to take my word, as-is, that whatever little mess you are wading through is not consequential enough for me to bother with during the brief acquaintanceship we must endure. Now, do you have anything of actual interest to say, or is this topic finished? I'm sure there are far more entertaining subjects to actually speak of."

At Sparrow's silence, the count continues on, though his gaze remains glass-sharp and watchful. "Perhaps you would like to hear of some of my own youthful exploits then? Those always do well among the highborn sort--not that you'd know anything about that, as I understand it."

When Sparrow finally escapes the conversation some time later, she is certain that Count Daeran Arendae is a cruel, childish, and capricious man, but that he was almost certainly honest when he told her he didn't care about her secrets--he is far too self-absorbed to give a whit about anything that doesn't directly concern him.

It seems that Sparrow's luck has held out after all.

#cassy writes #pathfinder wrath of the righteous #pwotr #wotr #daeran arendae #oc: sparrow #you can immediately tell what's canon dialogue and what's made up but this was a lot of fun regardless #pwotr pals

[smolweeblets]

Sleepytime Pt. 2

Hana "D.Va" Song x Reader

Dating D.va was not an easy ordeal. There were many problems with dating a hardcore gamer. Much less one who just so happened to be a huge internet celebrity. Having little quality time and always having to remind her to do basic self care were just some of the few problems you found yourself having.

But one of the major gripes you had was that you barely got to sleep with her. Late at night, if she wasnt smoothening out some brand deals or editing some clips, she would be gaming. Like right now.

You miraculously managed to wrangle her into the bed, after negotiations, but in the few minutes you had to go and brush your teeth, you find her on her phone now, playing some shooter game you didnt care to remember the name for.

“Hana, you said youd finally sleep.” You frowned as you poked at your girlfriends cheek, beckoning her to finally go to sleep.

“Well… technically I just said I’d go to bed, and I am in bed right now.”

You groaned at the quip.

“Hana Song I am this close to strangling you.” You pinched your fingers together and almost let them touch. Almost.

“Nah, you love me too much to do so.” She smugly smiled.

You scoff. “Youre right, what I am able to do though, is this.” You swiftly snatch her phone from her hands and prevent her from reaching for it back.

“Wha-! Hey!” Hanas face falls and she urgently tries to get her phone back from your grasp, but the determination to get your girlfriend to sleep stopped her from doing that whatsoever.

“Y/nnn- give it back! I was gonna sleep right after that match!” She whined.

“Yeah? Like how just earlier you were on your computer begging for 5 more minutes for a whole hour?”

Hana went quiet and huffed while crossing her arms.

“I meant it this time.” She looks away and pouts.

“Yeah? Well too bad. I’ve run dry outta patience. Sleep. Now.”

“Ugh. Fine. Just lemme exit the game and turn off my phone properly.” She reached her arms out for the phone, but you ignored them. Yeah right, she was just gonna use that as an excuse to finish her game.

“No. Get on the bed and go to sleep.”

“But babe! If you dont let me do that the phones might explode and kill both of us!” Hana was trying her best not to laugh at her own reasoning to give the phone to her.

“At least we die together. And well rested.” You lay on the bed and move a spot on the covers for Hana to slip into.

“Agh. Fine. But if you cause like a million of my fans to cry they're never gonna forgive you.” She pouts as she gets in and snuggles up to your side.

“That's a risk I'm willing to take. Good night.” You wrap your arms around her and pull her closer to you. Discreetly putting the phone away on the nightstand.

“... ‘Night” She turns and gives you a small kiss, before finally succumbing to sleep.

~~~~~~

“Holy shit, I still won that match last night, looks like I dont even need to be playing to carry our team to victory!”

You groaned as you ruffled Hanas hair. Too groggy to give a proper response. Seriously, where did she get all that energy? Maybe you should invest in some of those nano colas yourself.

A/n: Is it really a smolweeblets fic if theres no pointless authors note at the end? Anyway, I decided to write a pt. 2 for sleepytime bc I was bored and the scenario was cute, this will probably not be a series but like who knows.

Originally I wanted to name this "eepy" instead but i decided against it

#dva x you #dva x y/n #dva x reader #dva ow #dva overwatch #hana d.va song #d.va x reader #ow x reader #overwatch x reader #hana song x reader

[whumpsday]

Whumpmas in July #7

Post a link to your favorite whump fic of all time (or reblog it and/or make a list of them!)

you know me... i love lists, so here my top 10 favorite whump series of all time! limiting myself to 10 was sooo hard but if i didn't i'd be here all night.

🪆 Dollhouse by @whumpshaped - Being obsessed with dolls at a young age isn't anything harmful or concerning. The problems only start to show when that obsession stays, only growing stronger instead of slowly fading away. Grace never quite managed to give up on the dream of her very own dollhouse - with the perfect, living dolls to go along with it. (multiple whumpees, body modification, nonconsensual surgery, drugging, starvation)

🦹 Hazeshift by @whumpwillow - A villain named Haze is rescued after having been held captive by a vigilante, but the heroes that find him aren’t exactly forgiving of his past crimes… (whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned whumper, villain whumpee, hero caretaker and whumpers, torture, magic/powers whump)

🌓 Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset by @not-a-space-alien - Valen is a vampire on a mission…one which unfortunately puts him at odds with vampire hunters, who aren't happy about such a creature being so deep within their territory. Alexis and Ariana are partners and vampire hunters, trying to protect as many people as they can from the horrors of a world where vampires see humans as cattle, fair game for being snatched up and taken home as food. (vampire whumpee, lab whump, torture, recovery, contains 18+ content)

⚔️ Of Vampires and Men by @whumpy-writings - For years, the vampire nations of Lucia and Torin have lived in an uneasy peace. That all changed when Lucia annexed the independent city-state of Cesvic. Now, war is looming on the horizon and no one is safe. (vampire whumpers, vampire caretakers, vampire & human whumpees, war, dystopia, contains 18+ content)

🚀 Riot Kings by @befuddled-calico-whump - An overthrown crime lord is finally captured by his enemies--after he’s been thoroughly broken by someone far more dangerous than him. (sci-fi, war, villain whumpee, torture, webcomic)

👑 The Dark Side of the Sun by @quietly-by-myself - (this one didn't have an official summary so i'm writing a fan-summary) Cassius's work as an alchemist comes to an end when he's captured by the king of the tainted, kept to be tortured for his amusement as punishment for his wrongs. Hakon, who now loyally serves the king after being taken in following the brutal torture Cassius put him through in the name of science, has to decide whether he's willing to help his former tormenter now that the tables have turned. (whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, fantasy, magical whump, completed)

🐺 The Monster of Lindborough by @secretwhumplair - A werewolf caught stealing sheep is made to pay by their owners, regardless of the fact he never meant harm. (werewolf whumpee, whumper turned caretaker, found family, overwork, completed)

🧛 Things End | People Change by @whumpcloud - Clary Nikitin has been free for four years. She's doing okay. But she's angry. And when she hears that her kidnapper, vampire Vincent Maddox, has been captured, she isn't going to pass up the chance to see just how pathetic he's become. She didn't expect to take him with her. But what's the point of taking revenge if he's begging her to do it? (vampire whumper/whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker)

🏡 Tomas and Rowe by @whumpzone - (this one also didn't have an official summary so i am writing a fan-summary) Tomas has his work cut out for him when he takes in a traumatized human pet. As much as he tries, Rowe never stops being afraid. Little does he know, dark things are happening in his house when he leaves. (pet whump, dystopia, secret whumper, recovery, sadistic whumper, completed)

@whumpmasinjuly

#whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day7

[ginnyw-potter]

Quidditch Quarrel's Photoshoot

Written for Day 6 of @hinnyfest

Prompt: "You are speaking about my future wife/husband. Be more respectful"

The newest Auror candidates were making all kinds of comments as they read the Quidditch Quarrel. Harry was just off to the side trying to focus on the new report as he sipped on his morning coffee. He wanted to cut them some slack, he was just a trainee last year himself but none of the comments were really nice. 

“Those Harpies uniforms are really something, just look at that arse,” a guy named Sam said. 

“Look at that indeed,” the other candidate, Rick, said. “Isn’t that…?” 

“Yes, Ginny Weasley.” 

Harry immediately gave up on reading his report. He wondered if they knew he was there, it seemed common knowledge the two of them were going out, there was an article about them only every other week. 

“I mean I know what I’d do if I got my hands on that for sure,” Sam said.  

“Not only that arse…” Rick replied. 

Harry got up and walked up to them from behind. “Do you mind?” 

Both guys jumped at his voice and turned around. 

“Harry! Didn’t see you there!” Rick said nervously. 

At least his reputation made the new ones slightly wary of him. 

“I figured you didn’t,” Harry said. “You are speaking about my future wife. Be more respectful, if you don’t mind.” 

Sam puffed up his chest and crossed his arms. “Just because you’re going out with her now, doesn’t mean she wants to marry you. I am sure she’s got blokes lining up for her that she may want to give a good time for a few hours.” 

Harry smiled. “Right... She’s got a ring on her finger since last week though, which you may have cared to notice if you weren’t busy looking somewhere else. I could have sworn it was an engagement ring, but what do I know?” 

“Oh.” Sam’s posture shrunk. “We didn’t mean anything by those comments… you know.” 

Both took a step back. 

“Then why are you looking so scared?” Harry said, snatching the magazine out of Sam’s hand. “I’ll hang on to this.” 

“Sure, you do that…” Rick said, pulling Sam along. They both ran off. 

Gawain Robards approached him. “Ready to train candidates for the first time?” 

“Yes,” said Harry. “And I think I have found two very willing volunteers for later.” 

Gawain smiled. “Ah, good. What did they do anyway that they ran off?” 

Harry waved the magazine in his hand. “My dear fiancée did a photoshoot for the Quidditch Quarrel. They were enjoying it a little bit too much for my tastes.” 

“Get jealous?” Gawain asked amused. 

“I mean I’ve seen the pictures, I know what she looks like. The comments are always awful, but it bothers me more than it bothers her, I think.”

“I am sure she gets jealous too,” Gawain commented.

“It’s not the same,” Harry replied. He was not the hot new talented Quidditch Chaser of the season. 

“Harry, do you know that our list of candidates sky-rocketed this year? And not because people are suddenly interested in this job. They were all women, because we recruited three young war heroes and well, most interest does go to you. Some of them couldn’t Disarm and half of them were not even of age.”

 “Really?” 

“Yes, it’s an absolute headache to have you here, I can tell you that."

The Head Auror seemed to have taken a liking to him and so he did not mind this comment and smiled. "Yes, I always cause trouble wherever I go."

#hinnyfest #hinny #harry potter #ginny weasley #fic

[albertfinch]

RIGHT STANDING WITH GOD - I

(ATTITUDES OF THE SIN CONSCIOUSNESS)

Which of the following "Attitudes Of The Sin Consciousness" are adversely affecting your spiritual growth and development:

1. When I stand before God sometimes I have a sense of inferiority, guilt, or condemnation.

"I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes Him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned." - John 5:24

"Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." - Romans 8:1

2. The only destiny God has for me is the life I am living now.

"For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for Good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them." - Ephesians 2:10

"For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus." - Philippians 1:6

"Forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."  - Philippians 3:13,14

3. God is operating outside of me.

"I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing." - John 15:5

"For it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure." - Philippians 2:13

"To whom God willed to make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory." - Colossians 1:27

4. Jesus lived on earth at a level above what I could ever hope to be.

"I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; and whatever you bind on earth shall have been bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall have been loosed in heaven." -  Matthew 16:19

"Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do, he will do also; and greater works than these he will do; because I go to the Father. - John 14:12

5. My righteousness is to be obtained after I die and go to heaven.

"For if by the transgression of the one, death reigned through the one, much more those who receive the abundance of grace and of the gift of righteousness will reign in life through the One, Jesus Christ." - Romans 5:17

"He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him."  - 2 Corinthians 5:21

6. Sometimes I do not feel like God has forgiven all my sins.

I am writing to you, little children, because your sins are forgiven for his name’s sake. – 1 John 2:12

"For He rescued us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of His beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins." - Colossians 1:13,14

““For I will be merciful toward their iniquities, and I will remember their sins no more.” – Hebrews 8:12

7. Some days I feel like I am saved and some days I feel unsaved.

“My sheep know my voice, and I know them, and they follow me; and I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, and no one shall snatch them out of my hand” (John 10:27, 28).

"For we walk by faith and not by sight." - 2 Corinthians 5:7

"Whoever will call on the name of the Lord will be saved." - Romans 10:13

"Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household." - Acts 16:31

8. I can never be of real help to others because I keep sinning.

"For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, being justified as a gift by His grace through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus." - Romans 3:23,24

"Now all these things are from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation." - 2 Corinthians 5:18

9. I will please God if I work on not sinning.

"And may be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own derived from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith." - Philippians 3:9

"And you so foolish?  Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh? - Galatians 3:3

"But if it is by grace, it is no longer on the basis of works, otherwise grace is no longer grace." - Romans 11:6

INTO ACTION:

1. Make a list of the sin consciousness attitudes that may be causing you a problem in your spiritual development.

2. Affirm and meditate on the indicated scriptures four times daily until the renewing of your mind is made real to your spirit.

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Hi!

If you haven't noticed already 🙈 I'm a fan of your writing and i saw the request post you pinned...

First of all: the prompts are deliciously creative, they made me cackle (ugly and loud) and i would love to make a request if that's okay.

If it is, i would love to request something for Nanami with the prompt nr.9: “The day you make him laugh is the day whales walk on land.”

I mean... the man is a tough nut to crack and I don't think he normally would do more then quirk the corners of his mouth, so this prompt, i feel, is perfect for him and I'd love to read your take on it! If you're up for it ofcourse!!!

- Kali 🌻

Wanted to get this done quick for you because your support and the nice things you say just made me happy giggle 😊 still got carried away. Writing this made me smile, I hope you love it as much as I do ❤️

"The day you make him laugh is the day whales walk on land."

You send a pointed look at your former upperclassman, now your fellow sorcerer. You've known Gojo since both of you were infants, and thus have competed with him in all aspects ever since.

Being the only person in the world who could ever give him pause in a fight means something to a lot of people, but it means very little to you now you've grown and realized that even second best is too good to be anything but bored.

So, what do two, overpowered, bored sorcerers do when they've got time to kill? They make bets on poor, unsuspecting colleagues.

In this case, the victim is your boyfriend of several years: Nanami Kento.

'Beg pardon?' you declared, indignant. 'He's been my partner for two-and-a-half years! Of course I can make him laugh!'

You could, you know how too, but part of you wished you'd kept your big fat mouth shut; because the only way to make Kento laugh was utterly embarrassing for you.

But of course, you just can't do that, because you have to exist in this endless competition with your cousin.

Your family's are so far apart they need encyclopedia to prove that you're even related, but if course, they have them.

'Go do it then!' Cackles Gojo, so utterly sure that he's got you beaten at last. Outside of Jujutsu, he rarely ever trumps you at anything, you like to think it keeps him humble...but when had he ever been humble.

'No.' Pouting petulantly, you fold your arms. 'I don't do what you say.'

'Chicken!'

'Am not!' Childish? Absolutely. You blame Gojo, he brings it out of you.

The bickering begins in earnest and neither one of you grown ass adults is willing to back down, until the one source of mild sanity in your life rocks up to your office and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

'Good grief, will you two drop whatever nonsense you started? There's a class to teach at this school, Gojo.' Nanami drawls, resettling his glasses with those long, nimble fingers.

You lick your lips flirtatiously at your blonde prince. 'Good morning, handsome.'

He rolls his eyes, but the corner of his lips quirked up only slightly. 'Good morning, (Y/N).'

A giddy smile curls your lips at his use of your first name. You've always insisted that everyone stick to your middle name, the one sign of your family's European branch. The one thing that didn't make you a Gojo.

'Urgh, you two are gross.' Gojo sticks his tongue out exaggeratedly. 'I'm outta here, even Sukuna's better company.'

'Fuck you too, ya damn snowflake.'

Satoru flips you the finger, grinning playfully the entire way out of your office, which he hijacks regularly.

Nanami sighs yet again. 'If I didn't know you two, I'd think you hated each other.'

'Wait...Gojo doesn't hate me?' Aghast, you threw a hand to your chest. 'My dislike is unrequited? Whatever shall I do?!'

'I take it you skipped breakfast again?' Kento mused, making his way around your desk while you stood to greet him. 'Lack of baggels always seems to make you dramatic.'

'Love, you callin' me fat?' you jibed.

The second you're within reach, he snatches you up to his chest, silencing your jokes with a kiss, hands caressing your figure firmly, lovingly.

That's when that inevitable little noise happens, a quiet purr at the back of your throat. It doesn't happen every day, and you can't seem to control when it does, but when he touches you just right, he forces it out, and it always has him chuckling as he pulls away.

That smile is for your eyes only, his laugh is for your ears only, and losing to your idiot cousin is worth keeping that sacred sight to yourself as you lean in and kiss him again.

'I am calling you, perfect.' Kento whispered against your pretty lips. 'And if you're quite finished being adorable, I'm inviting you for breakfast. Seems to be the only way I can get you to eat at decent hours.'

Giggling, you throw your hands around his neck. 'Have I told you that I love you?'

'Not since you texted me at four in the morning.' Giving your rump a playful tap, he send you off toward the door. 'Off now, you can hang off me later.'

Pouting, you sneak in under his arm, knowing full well he doesn't mind the PDA so long as no students are around. It's inpropper, he says.

'You love me.'

'God help me, I do.'

#jjk fluff #nanami kento x reader #jjk hcs #gojo

[inertflouride]

Trap of Lies Part-11

Thank you @x3kristax3 for letting me be a part of this wonderful AU.

This is a collaboration project which starts from here- Masterlist Needless to day, it is dark AU, but an engrossing read. With that, I'll take my queue. Happy reading!

TW: themes related to sex, substance abuse, kidnapping, blood, violence, gaslighting

One. Two. Three.

The days I remember being in here until I was drugged.

Four, Five, Six.

The places in my body from where I bleed.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

The frequency with which I was disgraced.

And now, ever since I have started being fed opiates by these people, I have lost track of the count. I wish I could divert my mind somewhere. I wish I could retire from this feeling of being used and abused.

If I knew it all then that this is the baggage of loving Jake, would I do it again? Would I do it again?

Probably, yes.

On the other hand, I can't help but lose the remnant of my brain over placing a name on the Commander. Who is he? Why is he so akin to my subconscious. Those blue eyes... Maybe the reason I'm being fed these synthetic drugs are so that I am unable to place a finger on Commander's identity. If only I could keep my brain to its prior levels, maybe I can identify who he is.

They have left me to be for now. I wonder how much of the solitude time is left before it all happens again.

I regret the day I met Richy. I knew, even then, that he was making advances towards me. Subtle advances. I had gone to the local fair organised by the Marchioness of Liverdale. I remember how I got too engrossed with the purchasing that I ended up with three bags as large as that of a portmanteau.

He gave me a hand to carry my bags to the carriage. On the way, he kept joking to me about an idle lot of things happening around us. He introduced himself as Jake's subordinate. A minor one. The reason why I accepted his help.

I was about to ask Jake about him the other day, but he was kept busy by his tradesmen a few days before I was kidnapped. Maybe even that was a ploy to ease my kidnapping. Oh, what a foolish lady I am!

I can't describe the state I am in. I'm naked. My arm bleeds the name of my rapist. I can't keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds. I can't stop trembling despite a rag thrown over me. This is not what I was supposed to ever face in my life. Ever.

But I can bear all this. What I can't bear is the hopelessness. Where is Jake?

"Howdy M'lady?", Richy slams open the door and gives me a beaming smile. Maybe since he is happy, he might show some mercy on me. Just a thought.

He bolts the door close and squats near me, leering his eyes all over me again. "Do you want something? Ask me anything you want because today, I am elated beyond words."

I do not respond to him and keep looking down at my trembling hand, waiting for it to stop shaking.

He pulls the rag, the only piece of cloth covering my bare body, making me wince. I would have tried to cover my body with my hands but what is the use of that? He shall rape me regardless, crushing whatever fight is left in me.

"Here, here. Where is the feisty woman I kidnap go?", he gets closer to my neck, sniffing me there, "I remember her having a fight, which I loved to break."

Sickening. Too sickening that out of impulse, I crack a smack on his face, too hard or maybe too surprising that he falls back from his squatting gesture. His wide eyed, bloodshot eyes makes me cower when, thankfully, the door cracks open and Commander arrives in.

He is wearing a façade this time, which conceals every part of his face. He steps towards me and throws the snatched rag over my body.

"We would halt if you shall just spit whatever you know", he says to me, sighing as if all this is much troublesome for him. But, instead of saying I don't know anything, I just keep quiet. "What must I make of your deafness this time? You are willing to comply?"

"You're a fool if you think I wouldn't have told you everything after all this. Trust me, I am more than someone who is in love. And if you think you know me, like you say you do, you should know that no amount of training would make me bear so much."

He scoffs in amusement at me and smirks at me before saying, "But i do know that you will go to any lengths when you care about someone."

He gets up and fills the glass with water from the jug, offering it to me. When I start to push it away, he pushes it in my hand forcefully. "You are going to need it after what I tell you."

I squint at him, trying to keep my focus intact for a few more minutes before I again pass out. I wish to listen what he has to say.

"I feel pity for you as I say this, but Jake has moved ahead with his life. He has a new woman by his side now", he deeply sighs.

"Oh hell no", I erupt into a laugh as I hear him tell me this, "You think I shall for this crap?"

"I know it's a shock. You can take all the time you want", he rubs his hands together as he fawns pity over me.

"No well, screw YOU", I throw the water over him, specifically his mask. He scurries to take it off and that's when I see who he really is.

I gasp as the air is knocked out of my lungs. "I should have known it was you, you vengeful sloth", I scream as the realisation cuts me deep.

"Oh, my beloved MC. I've missed you so much", he grabs my hand and pulls me closer to him, nuzzling his nose in the crook of my neck. I try to push him away but his fingers curl deeper in the naked curve of my waist. "Leave him. He has moved ahead regardless."

"I don't believe a single utterance that escapes from your damned mouth", I spit at him, punching his chest now. He drags me via my wrist to the wall and slams my back there, pinning both my wrists.

"Listen to me, MC", he shouts on my face, "Think about it. You don't know anything. There is nothing binding him to you anymore. He doesn't have to come save you at all. He might not even look at you after you go out back to the world. You have been disgraced. Who would want a disgraced woman other than a brothel?"

He takes his hand and rubs my cheek lovingly, sighing, "I hate to say this, but you were just a means to an end."

I know it isn't true, but I can't help the urge to cry out aloud. My Jake, he is my Jake. He would never do it to me. I know this too, but god, does it not make me bawl in sorrow.

"Shh. It's okay. I'm here now", he forcefully pushes my head on his neck and presses one of his hands over my waist, and other gripping my arse. "Lay low now, I won't let anyone hurt you again. You deserve some love from me, dear."

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #duskwood jake x player #duskwood mc #jake x mc #duskwood jake x mc #trap of lies

[thepublishingpress]

THE ORACULAR GODDESS

THE ORACULAR GODDESS

   A short story by Basil Dela Cruz

I swallowed as I stared out the window, the sweet smell of blossoming hyacinths overpowering everything else.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Today was the day I was to become the Oracle, Priestess of Apollo.

“Dearest?”

I turned. “Mother!” I said, forcing a smile.

She returned it. “Oh, my lovely Agathe! Aren’t you so excited? You’re about to become the Oracle! Just like your Ya-ya and me!”

“O-of course! Of course,” I said, my voice tight.

She frowned. “Agathe, why are you acting this way?“ She gasped. “Have the gods not spoken to you?”

“No, Mother! I mean, they have spoken to me!” I replied quickly, though, in reality, it wasn’t true. “I’m just feeling a bit nervous. I am to be shown to hundreds, if not thousands, of people.”

Mother patted my shoulder. “It’s okay, my dear. Now, we must go to the Temple of Apollo. We don’t have all day, you know.”

I nodded, even smiled. “Yes, Mother.”

  As we walked down the roads, so bright in comparison to my mood, the words ran in circles in my head.

Liar.

Liar.

Liar.

The gods have not spoken to you.

Liar.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➻❥➼˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➻❥➼˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➻❥➼

We reached the Temple of Apollo. As we went through, I rubbed the inscriptions that had always fascinated me:

ΓΝΩΘΙ ΣΑΥΤΟΝ, ΜΗΔΕΝ ΑΓΑΝ , ΕΓΓΥΑ, ΠΑΡΑ ΔΑΤΗ 

It used to comfort me, back then.

We met with stern-faced officials and the kind-eyed Pythia I was the apprentice of. We went to the Castalian Spring where people from all around Greece and even non-Greeks waited to prepare for a potential day of prophecy. The current Oracle held out the bowl to me and smiled. All eyes turned to me. I took the bowl with shaking hands and stepped forward. I carefully performed the ritual. I knew this was a tense business. If the goat shivered, then Apollo was willing to be consulted by the travelers that had come from so far away. If the goat did not, the people from afar would have to wait an entire month to consult the Oracle again. Concentrate, Agathe, I thought to myself. I poured the water on the goat.

Everyone waited.

I sent a prayer to the gods, hoping they would answer, though I expected they wouldn’t.

The goat shivered.

The crowd cheered.

Thank the gods.

After all that happened, I became the new Pythia, despite the fact I have not heard a word from the gods.

But that would be my secret, A small voice whispered within me, as the crowds cheered and my parents beamed at me, they faces filled with pride.

Then, on Δευτέρα I learned the true weight of my lies.

A hero came to the Temple of Apollo while I was seated in the adyton on a bronze tripod. He ran in and kneeled in front of me.

“Oh, Oracle of Delphi! Priestess of Apollo!” He cried. “I wish to avenge my father, who met his demise at the hands of my cruel uncle. That accursed man now sits on the throne that should be mine! He has sent me on a quest for the Golden Fleece. Will I succeed? If I do, what will happen after?”

The young man was obviously a hero in the making. If I lied and the outcome was wrong… No. Just give him a prophecy. 

“What is thine name, O young man?” I said in the most official and formal voice I could muster. 

He looked at me, awe-srtuck, so I assumed I had a good official voice. “Iason, my lady.”

“Well, then, Iason. You will indeed succeed on your quest. I have seen that you will go back to your uncle and he will acknowledge his end of the bargain, though he does so grudgingly. You will have a beautiful wife and children. You will prosper, and live a long life.”

The man smiled. Thank you. Thank you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➻❥➼˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➻❥➼˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➻❥➼

The next month, I wandered through the market during a lazy afternoon, ready to make the proper sacrifices for the gods when I heard snatches and snippets of conversation from whispering women and gossiping girls. 

“Oh, do come closer! I have the most interesting of news..” One of the girls drawled.

The women around her leaned in breathlessly to hear.

His old wife brought their children’s demise on an altar.

His new bride and father-in-law burned.

Crushed by the boards of his own ship.

Oh, who was he?

Iason.

She said more, I’m sure, for the women were still leaning towards her like sunflowers do to the sun, but I had stopped listening by then. I ran towards the temple, trying my absolute best not to let the guilty tears flow.

The horror.

The man was dead.

More heroes came. I was unable to do anything else but lie about the outcomes. Tell them what they wanted to hear.

All of their lives ended in tragedy.

When will I be freed of this?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➻❥➼˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➻❥➼˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➻❥➼

I was older, much older, than the 13-year-old girl who had become the Pythia. I was sitting there on my bronze stool when a young woman came. She was wearing a cloak of fine wool. I raised my eyebrows at this. Perhaps she didn’t want to be recognized or seen, but why? She stepped forward and kneeled, which I could tell slightly annoyed her. A princess, then. 

“Oh, Oracle of Delphi,” She said, her voice low and lovely, “My father’s kingdom is at risk, and I wish to seek guidance so I may assist him.”

I sucked in a breath. I opened my mouth to speak but no words spilled free. I was thinking of the kingdom, a kingdom full of people. I brought curses to any of those who came advice… A curse from the gods for lying, I realized. I could not bear it any longer. I wept and threw myself at her feet.

 "Oh dear princess!" I cried. "I am a fake Oracle, and not one to be trusted. Please, find another Oracle! They shall give you better advice than me."

 She smiled at me, and a gray aura surrounded her, revealing her true self.

 A young woman with chocolate brown curls, cool calculating eyes as big as an owl's, bedecked with armor with her famous bronze shield. 

I would have to be a fool to not know her.

Athena.

 Before I could collect my thoughts and speak, she said, "You have passed the test, Agathe. Though you have lived a life of deceit, we have given you one last chance to redeem yourself. And redeem yourself you have."

"But why have you given me this chance my lady?" I questioned her, having regained my wits.

 "Because you are to be my successor as the goddess of wisdom."

I gaped at her and she smiled.

 "Come," She commanded. "You have much to learn as a goddess."

#translation #nah #sorry for not posting #writing #literature #athena #greek mythology #delphi #oracle of delphi #priestess of apollo #apollo #doesn't appear though #idk what tags to use #ill think of something #sorry for not being active #WAIT I ALREADY SAID THAT #woops #hope you like it #agathe #original character #original post #greek gods #ancient greek #greek myths #greek pantheon #ancient greek mythology #how is that not a tag #grief #guilt #she's conflicted