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muneca-lemon-steppa · 6 months

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Hi Mo! I hope you are doing well! I really love your writing and the way you capture the duality of Alfie's character. I saw that you were looking for ideas so I thought I'd send one in (please feel no obligation/pressure to write it, this is just spit balling). Maybe something with reader being protective over Alfie. Maybe they're unaware of the infamous title the Camden King holds or they are but they have an overwhelming sense to have to protect him when the two are placed into a dangerous situation. Thanks so much, and again no pressure to have to write this ♥️!

Hi my friend!! You are so sweet, I hope you’re doing well too!! Thank you so much for this prompt! I gotta be honest, for some reason I had a hard time trying to figure out how I wanted to write this! I hope you enjoy it though, and if it isn’t hitting the way you were hoping, message me and maybe we can come up with something together!! Sending my love!!! - Mo

Change of Plans

Alfie Solomons x Wife!Reader

Warnings: fighting, blood, stitches

This was NOT how the night was supposed to go.

Alfie was going to have a late night at the office, finishing up some business with the Shelby boys. Fine enough, you could make his home coming sweet. A fresh chocolate babka would be fresh out the oven, ready for him to cut into and devour. Candles would be lit all over the house, with curtains drawn in to protect from peering eyes and the creeping in cold. And you. You were dressed so pretty, just waiting for him. Hair loose and free, just how he loves it. You had put on that soft pink dressing gown he likes so much. The silk one with the delicate lace at the ends. You even put lavender oil on, extra, just to entice him.

It was SUPPOSED to be a nice surprise. It was SUPPOSED to be an evening where you spoiled him. It was SUPPOSED to be a romantic evening.

But no… here you are. Sitting next to Ollie in the car. Being driven across town to a bar. A bar, where your husband, along with the idiots Tommy, Arthur, and John Shelby, were fighting. Being that Ollie was concerned enough to grab you from home, you could only imagine how bloody it was.

Ollie looked over at you, eyeing the hem of your dressing gown, nervous as to how the pink fabric would be received, “Uhm.. Ma’am, I have a coat in the back… don’t you think maybe-“

“No Ollie I don’t think I want it. If Alfie wants to pull me out of my house this late at night, he can deal with the consequences.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea-“

“Ollie you know I love you so very much but I will need you to not speak again until we get to the bar. Yes?”

Ollie nodded, but the stress never left his eyes. You know he meant well. He was only ever looking out for you and Alfie. He was very very sweet. But frankly, Alfie did not deserve to have Ollie looking out for him. He did not deserve common courtesy tonight.

You slam open the doors, and it was exactly as you assumed it was. Regular patrons of the bar were lined up at the edge of the walls, watching the gladiators in the center tear each other apart. There was blood all over the floor. Broken glasses and spilled liquor scattering the floor mixing with the red. Tables and chairs discarded and destroyed in the wake of the brawl. You assumed, that the fight started as Alfie against the brothers. But it looked from your stance now, that it was every man for himself. All four of the men were sporting black eyes, bruises and cuts all over their faces, necks, and hands. You heard Alfie’s laugh above the sounds, “C’mon now!!! You want some more?!”

He didn’t see you yet, but you could see him. He looked like absolute shit, and his mouth was bleeding despite the toothy grin he gave with every punch he gave and received. You rolled your eyes, and felt your rage rise. He was getting far too old for this shit, reveling in his strength and the destruction he could so easily cause. The honor he wanted to protect with the force of 50 men. In normal circumstances you find it honorable. Sometimes even charming. But the way it was going… someone was going to get killed. And if anyone was going to kill Alfie it was going to be you.

You motioned for Ollie to follow you, as you stomped over the bottles, blood, and water. The yells for more blood by the men at the edges slowly turned to whistles as they gave witness to your bare legs, the thin dressing gown, and your steaming rage barreling through. With strength mustered from God himself, you grabbed the collar of John and yanked him back quickly, tossing him onto his back, “What the! Oh, Mrs. Solomons…”

Ollie managed to rip Arthur off of Alfie’s back, and he too looked incredulous at your appearance at this disgusting scene. All that was left was Alfie and Tommy, still attempting to rip each others throat out, entirely oblivious to your presence.

“ENOUGH. STOP IT.”

You screamed, but to no avail. They were entirely focused on one another, on their mutual blood lust. Seeing no other option, you motioned for Ollie’s gun, snatching it from his hand, and shot three rounds into the ceiling.

They finally stopped, looking up to find you as the source of the noise. Where they initially looked like big men, they suddenly reminded you of naughty children.

“Alfred Solomons. Thomas Shelby. Just what in gods name do you think you’re doing.”

Silence. Utter silence. “WELL?! I’m waiting Mr. Solomons!”

Tommy tried to get up, but paused when you pointed the gun at him, “Do not make another move Mr. Shelby. Not only did you ruin a night with my husband, but you also nearly killed him. I have half a mind to shoot you dead right now.”

Not moving from your initial target, you address Alfie, “Have you finally found yourself speechless? Say something.”

With a swollen eye and bloody lip, he manages to smile sheepishly, “Just… just business love. Just… a bit of a quarrel darling nothing more… put the gun down my love, you look beautiful. A right vision darling. ”

“I will decide when I put the gun down Mr. Solomons.”

You begin pointing the gun at each of the four men, “I think we can all agree… that we are ALL a little too old to behaving this way yes?”

Tommy was watching you intently, as was Alfie. John and Arthur hung their heads. Embarrassed for both their behavior and their deep seeded fear of you. You motioned for Alfie to get up, “My husband and I are going to leave now. Mr. Shelby, I expect a handwritten note apologizing for ruining my evening. And Monday you all will convene together, to discuss the issue like fucking adults!”

Alfie winced as he got up, cane nowhere to be found. You walked back out into the cold, with Alfie close to your heels. You push him into the car before you, and slam the door shut, telling Ollie to take you home.

You can’t even look at Alfie. So overcome with irritation and worry. Irritated that he acted so recklessly, and worried about his injuries. As you always are. Alfie fiddled with the coat on the seat, “Coat is back here and you still decided to come out in your dressing gown eh?”

“Be quiet I do not want to hear you.”

“Oh you will hear me though won’t you yeah? You will hear me, because now, all of fucking London saw my wife’s bare legs! I mean what the fuck is wrong with you.”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?! You want to know what’s wrong with me Alfie Solomons? I wait all day for my husband to come home. No no not just wait. I SLAVE around the house all day, make myself look nice, hoping HOPING that my husband makes it home! I worry sick ALL DAY that maybe this will be the day my husband doesn’t come home. And instead of coming home, he goes and acts like a COMPLETE FUCKING MORON and starts a fist fight with the Shelby boys!! You are getting too old for this kind of reckless behavior Alfie! And I cannot let you keep destroying your body like this!”

You begin to feel the hot tears fall down your cheeks, and Alfie’s heart starts to crack, “Aw.. darling I- treacle don’t go worrying about old Alfie now. Your husband is like an ox yeah?”

Your tears keep flowing, harder now, “No Alfie! No i do worry! It’s not about you being strong!! It’s about you being healthy! About you being safe! I’ve never told you to stop the business! I’ve never asked you to leave it! All I’ve ever asked is that you show wisdom! Not to go around picking fights! I can’t see you like this Alfie! You don’t deserve to get cut up and beaten for nothing! For a pissing contest! I shouldn’t have to see my husband like this just because of some… some pride!”

Alfie just placed his bloodied hand on your knee, patting and stroking your thigh trying to comfort you. Once Ollie got you and Alfie home, you silently walked up, freezing and covered in the smell of booze and violence. “Get to the bathroom Alfie. I’ll be there in a minute to clean you up.”

You changed out of your soft pink nightie, and slipped on of Alfie’s night shirts over your body, breathing in the smell of his left over cologne. With a sigh you lugged the medicine kit into the bathroom, where Alfie sat at the edge of the tub, shirt off, hot water running and steaming the room. Silently, you began cleaning the wounds on his hands and chest. Once the tub was sufficiently filled, you nodded for him to get in.

With a grunt he lowers himself in. It was getting harder to get into the tub. His muscles tighter than they used to be. You begin your work, stitching up the deeper cuts on his chest and face. It was like nothing to you now.

The first time you stitched him up, he had to talk you through it, giving you more comfort than you could him. It was a rough first try, the scar is still pure white between his shoulder blades, and you can feel it under your fingers at night. But now, you know your way around the needle and his skin, it’s a familiar ritual to you now, though you wish it wasn’t.

“You look as beautiful as you did on our wedding day.” Alfie says suddenly, eyes glossy, and forehead sweaty.

You shake your head at him. Of course he’s trying to flirt with you while you’re stitching him up, “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re delirious.”

“Nah. I married an angel darling. You make those shirts look like them French magazines.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Damn him, he knows how to sweeten you up. You finally finish up the stitches, 10 different gashes in total, and you begin putting on the salve and bandages when he finally speaks again, “My sweet heart, you should not have gone down there. It would’ve been ok. You don’t need to be involved in all that.”

God he’s irritating. Throwing your hands in your lap you bite back, “Alfie don’t give me that. One of us has to have some sense! One of us has to care about you.”

“You are making a bigger deal out of this than it is. Or are you forgetting what it is that I do! I ain’t a soft man treacle.”

“Do not even try to spin it Alfred Solomons. I will not be made to be looked at like a hysterical and stupid house wife. You will not make me feel crazy Alfred Solomons. I am your wife and you will listen to me.”

A beat of silence. And two blinks from Alfie are your queue to keep speaking, “Never. Never have I ever told you to stop. I told you that I would always support you. That your people are my people. You want to continue the business. Absolutely. You want to drop it all and go to Margate. Beautiful. I will always be here for the aftermath. I will always be there to discuss. I will always be there to stitch you up. But this Alfie… this type of… reckless nonsense… you got slashed in the chest Alfie! I will not be made a widow Alfred Solomons. Especially in the wake of something which was preventable. I refuse to watch my husband kill himself for a fucking pissing contest.”

He stared at the water in the tub, losing its steam and washing away the grime from his day. In this moment he wasn’t the King of Camden. That mask left the moment he walked through the threshold. Right now he was Alfie Solomons. Your husband. The man who was to love and protect you.

“Alfie… don’t you see how much I love you? How much I want you to be safe? I hate seeing you in pain, it makes me sick. I don’t know what I would do if you were suddenly not here. I think… the sky would turn black. I would not be able to breathe.”

Alfie hummed, and began to rise out of the tub, “C’mon… let’s get to bed yeah?”

With a sigh you nodded, helping him out, and cleaning up your tools before leaving him to dress for bed. Already bundled in between the soft white sheets, you look above your book to watch him limp into bed, and your heart breaks. He grunts as he gets in, but then pulls at your shirt to bring you closer, “C’mere darling. Need you.”

You toss your book to the floor, huddling closer, letting him guide your head to his bare chest. He hums put a tune from his childhood, stroking your hair as he thinks. After a bit he whispers, “Do you know what would happen if you weren’t next to me anymore?”

“Hmm?”

“The world would stop spinning. Lose all its color. Food ‘d lose its taste. Music would be horrible. I’d stop breathing. There’d be no reason to breathe. No reason at all.”

You begin to feel tears fall again, but he kept continuing, “I love you my darling. You add meaning to all this… I’m sorry I made you feel… as if you didn’t matter. As if your feelings didn’t matter. They do treacle. Your husband is stubborn, and it ain’t right. Ain’t right to make my wife cry and worry. You’re the best a man like me could ever ask for. You put up with so much… I promise not to be such an ass yeah? Start using my head before I start up some nonsense. Deal?”

You nod, clutching his chest, kissing him wherever you could reach, as Alfie hums again, kissing the top of your head. “Now Treacle. Tell me all about these plans you had for tonight.”

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic

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hollygracesworld · 4 months

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Falling into your ocean eyes 🌊 | Orm Marius x female reader

part 1 🌊

Warning ⚠️ : enemies to lovers, harsh words.

for the next part ➡️ masterlist

A/N : My first language isn’t English, so I’m sorry if the grammar is wrong a few times. and please be gentle because I haven't even read the comic.

Y/N is a woman of mixed blood. Her mother was a witch, then his father is a King Nereus. That makes her an illegitimate child. Y/N was born 1 year after Mera, which makes them technically sisters. Y/N's mother died mysteriously while giving birth to Y/N. She never met her father in person, but they were connected to each other through her magic.

She knew her father was afraid that his secret of having an illegitimate child would be discovered. Technically it would destroy her father's life and his reputation. To avoid this, her father continued to secretly support Y/N by giving her money as she lived alone on the surface. Even Mera didn't know such a big secret.

Time and time again, Y/N studied magic with the help of various magic books belonging to her mother. She studied the power that existed within her. Dark magic, chaos magic, reality manipulation, etc.

She was sick of hiding on the surface. The only surviving witch descendant from her mother's family was herself. Y/N used to live in an orphanage not far from the coast, but because someone saw her playing with black magic at the age of 16, she was expelled, and since then she has been forced to move around, in the middle of nowhere. Alone. Poor girl.

Even though her hatred to her father is the same as the Oceans, all Y/N wants is love from a family. She had planned all this carefully, and isn’t aggressive.

“Hey,” She heard a man's voice behind her. His face looked fierce and full of suspicion. “What you doin’ in there, Strange-Girl?”

Suddenly the red mist that only existed in her sight disappeared in an instant. Y/N's eyes which were previously bright red turned brown again.

“I don’t know what you talking about.”

Arthur Curry’s looking at her sharply, “I usually don’t give a fuck about what’s a girl like you doing but you seems really strange.”

Y/N was silent as she began to feel the man right in front of her seem to be starting to realize what she was doing. “I know a girl like you seems sweet, innocent, nice, but who knows if you’re actually devil in disguise.”

“I’m sorry, are you drunk, Mr. Curry?”

Arthur Curry laughed out loud, grab his spilled beer, sit next to Y/N and drink it greedily. “You're a foreigner, dressed in foreign clothes, chanting some kind of spell, glowing red eyes, and you know my name. Who the fuck are you?”

“What do you want?” he said clearly. His gaze sharp, almost as if he wanted to finish her off.

“Not your business.” Y/N get up and walk away from the bar.

But not long after that Arthur Curry chased him and spoke loudly, “If you're so obsessed with the ocean, your magic won't be able to withstand what happens down there, Strange-Girl.”

He certainly suspected the girl. He’s not dumb. He knew that Y/N wasn't just any witch. But on the one hand, he didn't want to pay his full attention to the strange witch in front of him. He would make a move if the witch was really acting up.

*******

Y/N closed her eyes, sitting relaxed surrounded by a circle of candles. She keep saying her witchcrafts. Her face was a little sweaty, her eyes closed, then she opened her eyes which were already bright red.

“Shhh, we still have to keep quiet, my dirty naughty witch..” Orm Marius whispered in Y/N's ear while Y/N aggressively kissing Orm’s neck.

“No I want you, my King. I want this so bad.” Y/N touched Orm's lips with a look full of lust. “I hate this armor, I want to hold your naked body again…”

Orm laughed softly, "this is not the right time, my dirty naughty witch. Mera is coming, and our engagement—“

“Shhh, you ruined this moment, my King. You know i want you, more than Mera wants you.” Y/N kept teasing King Orm by kissing his lips.

“I know. But Mera and King Nerius will come to see me soon, they can’t see you here with me, I hope you understand, my darling.” He spoke softly, but Y/N suddenly became very angry hearing his statement.

“You know what? They should see me here! Especially for King Nerius so he would know that his illegitimate child is brave enough to show her face in this fucking Atlantis!!”

Orm Marius, King of Atlantis, woke up from his sleep with his body covered in sweat and his heart beating very fast. Orm immediately meet his vizir, Nuidis Vulko to tell him everything he experienced every time he slept.

“Brown eyes, brown-long-waivy hair, half blood but not an usual human, she’s a Witch-Atlantean.” Orm quickly said this without greeting. Vulko looks really confused what his King talking about.

“King Nereus’s illegitimate child.“

Orm smiled sarcastically and continue, "She’s been bothering me 5 times. Go find her, I think she’s on the surface, because if she lives in here, she doesn’t have to use her magic spell to enter my mind."

Vulko nodded, obeying his King's orders.

“And bring her to me,” Orm said, “I want to fulfill her wish to meet her father, for a little surprise.”

#orm marius #orm marius x reader #aquaman #aquaman 2018 #ocean master #king orm #fanfics #patrick wilson #aquaman and the lost kingdom #dc comics #dc universe #dceu

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

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Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: This is when things seem to get better with the Shelby family —at least with Polly— that a drunk client crosses the line with you at the Garrison. Haunted by his past insecurities and his burning jealousy, Arthur snaps. And he snaps very bad. For the first time since you've met, he reveals the beast he hides inside... And Tommy obviously uses the incident to blame you.

Words: 5k

TW: Angst, Obsessive behavior, extreme jealousy, graphic depiction of violence, murder, lot of blood, canonical violence, witch trial, allusions to smut, allusions to blood!kink, Arthur being an emotional and slightly psychotic mess

Notes:

✞ I don't condone Arthur's behavior. Also, keep in mind that Heaven is certainly a bit twisted too.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || Masterlist || NEXT

The sound of your heels hammering the cold pavement of Small Heath echoed in the nocturnal streets as you walked to the Garrison. Even though the expansion of the Shelby Company led the family’s interests away from the pub, they still hold the place dear to their hearts and sometimes they liked gathering there for old times' sake. Especially Arthur. Hence, rather than staying at home, reading in front of the fireplace, and dwelling on Polly’s odd behavior at the last family gathering, you decided to occupy your buzzing mind by surprising Arthur at the pub. A raven flew above your head and cawed, its presence stirring interest in you for he had followed you from the moment you had left your house. As you walked to the Garrison, you took a quick glance at the black bird’s silhouette, which was perched on a roof a few houses away.

"Silly boy, want to tell me something?" You told to it, amused. The animal, dressed with dark feathers, replied with another caw. You chuckled and kept walking.

The white dress and fur coat you were wearing contrasted so well with the dull night that the few people you passed were not sure what they had just seen. Indeed, the moon's glow reflected its light on your porcelain skin, adorning your frail body with an almost supernatural aura. That was why some of them thought they had caught sight of an angel, just like Arthur did the first time you and he met.

When the dark wooden door of the Garrison opened, its noise overcoming the laughter, chatting, and sounds of glasses clinking against each other, a soft wave of warmth caressed your cold face. You had barely stepped inside when people almost all turned around, many pairs of eyes weighing on you. Curious and dumbstruck gazes looked at you, wondering what such a holy-looking creature was doing here — but you did not really care. Your petrifying aquamarine iris swept the room to become familiar with the place before you headed to the counter behind which you saw Arthur’s tall frame. The man was back to you, talking with his little boss-brother Thomas. Awesome, you thought, little King Shelby is here. Sarcasm filled your head at the mere sight of him. To be true, you were well aware that Thomas was always doing his best to avoid you, but it did not annoy you. Quite the contrary, you were more than satisfied with never seeing him — you still did not come to terms with him trying to strangle you after all. Nevertheless, you leaned over the counter, arms resting on its varnished wooden surface, and parted your juicy lips to speak.

“Good evening, Mister Shelby. Care to serve me a drink?”

Arthur’s whole being shivered with delight as soon as he recognized the enchanting and oh-so-peculiar tone of your voice — the same voice that had led him to you one bleak and sleepless night. Shaken to the core by your presence, he forgot about Tommy the moment you had started to speak and turned around to face you, the corner of his lips stretching in a genuine and blissed smile. Each time his steel blue eyes fell on you, it was as if God's grace struck him — even though you were living together. The thrills you gave him never left.

“Good evening, love. What is such a delicious little Angel like you doing here? It’s a bad town for such a pretty face ye know.” He almost cooed with his hoarse voice, his hands on the bar and his eyes sparkling with a teasing gleam.

“Fell from the sky and got lost in these streets, so I just followed the light.” Your fingers grazed the back of his hand and went up its skin, leaving pleasant tingles in their trail, until they reached one of the many rings he was wearing. The simple gesture, barely touching him, lit up a blazing fire in his soul. Thomas looked at Arthur and quickly understood that no matter what he would say or do, he held no power over his older brother anymore, “Evening, Tommy.” You said, finally acknowledging him.

“Thomas. It’s Thomas.” He retorted with a voice as cold as an arctic blizzard that could freeze Hell’s inferno itself. He stubbed out his cigarette in the nearest ashtray and left without any single word, his shadow disappearing in the streets as he left the Garrison, for your sole presence seemed to bother him. Well, at least his opinion about you did not change. However, the lack of peculiar reaction from him reassured you: Polly had not told him what happened to the tea party yet.

“Don’t mind him eh,”

You did not.

“I should probably give you one hell of a strong drink if you fell from Eden… Miss?”

“Heaven Lavey.” You winked, enjoying his silly way of hitting on you as if it was the first time you met, “A glass of red wine would do the trick… And the barman’s heart.” Your teasing grin widened, unveiling perfect white teeth. Arthur let out a long exhale through his nostrils, enraptured by your whole being. From your smile to your bratty pout, you got him on his knees. Each time he would dive his eyes into yours, his heart would quicken in his chest and dopamine would rush through his veins — who would want to keep taking drugs after tasting you? Not even himself. He was already high enough by your presence in his life and God knew he never wanted to sober up from you.

“As you wish.” He leaned over the counter to lay a tender kiss on your forehead. The way his mustache gently tickled your skin made you chuckle. How sweet he was, not afraid to lavish you with sweetness even in front of other people. Then, he gathered all his strength to pull away from you and take care of your order — which was nearly impossible to do, for you were both attracted to each other like two powerful magnets. But still, he did and then poured the finest red wine the Garrison had in a glass before putting it in front of you. Then, he leaned a second time over the counter to bring his face close to yours again, “as for my heart,” he paused, his eyes abandoning yours to drop on your full lips he watched with utmost desire, “You already snatched it, angel.”

“You’re incorrigible, Arthur Shelby.” You could not help but laugh when you noticed that, as you spoke, his focus was still fiercely anchored to your lips. The urge he had to devour them was almost palpable, electrifying the air around him. Yet, you resisted the need to kiss him, rather bringing your small hands to his neck to fix his bow tie with indescribable tenderness. The pair of eyes that were watching you since your arrival could not believe that you had managed to tame the brutal Arthur Shelby — how he behaved with you was so different from the way he was with the others it almost scared them, “I hope you like this little surprise.”

“You can’t imagine how much I do.” He purred, grabbing your hands and putting them on his cheeks. How he loved feeling your cold skin against his. You cupped his face, looking right into his fair eyes with a never-ending love, and he instantly melted. His eyelids half-closed, for you had brought peace to his scorching soul again, “Lemme clean a few things and we’ll go back home eh.”

“Take your time. Je t’attends mon amour — I’ll wait for you my love —“

“Yer comfy here?”

“Arthur,” Your eyes rolled, amused.

“Want a cushion to sit on? Want to wait in a quieter room?”

“That’s okay.”

“Mmm’kay”

You freed his face from your sweet grip, leaving him lingering for more. When he reopened his eyes he could not hold the little growl that escaped his lips for you had not kissed him. He blinked several times, trying to chase away the charm you had cast on him with your sole presence, and reluctantly left you. Stars still danced in front of his eyes because of your intoxicating beauty — so hypnotizing he struggled to come back to what he was doing before.

Waiting did not bother you. In fact, you preferred to wait for hours here, in the comforting warmth of the pub and its hullabaloo, rather than being left alone with your thoughts in the quietness of your house. Sipping on your red wine, you were minding your own business when a man sat next to you, his body collapsing on the stool as if walking had been quite a struggle for him. Which was probably the case considering he was drunk. Only a few people were still at the Garrison, the others went home stumbling or dragged away by a fellow friend. The suffocating smell of whiskey and sweat that was emanating from the newcomer made you wrinkled your nose.

“Hey doll, all alone by yourself? ” The man said, bringing the whiskey glass to his chapped lips to gulp what was left in it. You glanced at him and simply nodded, not really wanting to do any kind of conversation, “Your glass is almost empty. Lemme buy you another one.”

“I really appreciate it but that’s fine.” You answered with a polite smile — but even when doing the bare minimum your angelic traits never failed to captivate your audience. The man noticed your strong accent and saw the opportunity to carry on with the conversation.

“You come from France eh? I fought in France! Bloody hell, still got the mud of this country under my nails!”

Maybe he talked a little bit too loud, or maybe Arthur’s senses were as sharp as a wolf’s, but the fact remains he immediately raised his eyes from what he was doing to watch over you. His steel blue iris shifted their attention from you only to cast their furious fire on the drunk man that was talking to you. His woman.

“You know, I always thought it was kind of sad that all the people here only link France with the war. This is a beautiful country.” You answered, taking another sip of red wine. Somehow, you allowed yourself to talk with the man. At least time would probably fly faster that way.

“If France’s as beautiful as ya, I’ll rush back to it by tomorrow, doll. The name’s Jim.”

You silently replied to him with a light smile, gently shaking your head at the fella’s attempt to compliment you.

You smiled at Jim — And Arthur broke the glass he was holding in his hand. It had been crushed by the pressure with which he had tightened his grip around it until it shattered into bits. Sharp pieces of glass had pierced Arthur’s flesh, blood dripping from his palm, but the tormenting anger that was building within him was so overwhelming he did not even feel the pain. As seconds passed, his face contorted with rage and his eyes darkened with jealousy. You. Smiled. At. Him.

That was definitely not okay — the man did not deserve your blissful smile.

Deafened by the sound of his own heart pounding in his tight chest, Arthur swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat in a vain attempt to keep control. To not let his anger issue show. The rational part of his mind was telling him to keep calm, for he knew you loved him and only him. You had told him plenty of times, after all. And he trusted you, really. But the other part, led by his insecurities and his mental instability, whispered foul insinuations to his ear.

Why would she stay with such a criminal like you? You’re sick. You’re old. You’re broken — and no one loves broken men.

You’re stupid, far less clever and charming than Tommy. HE is a real man.

You either scare or repel women. Linda told you. You don’t deserve Heaven.

Useless. So useless… Broken. Crazy, you’re fucking crazy. She’ll see what you are. A monster. Monster. Monster.

Arthur’s jaw clenched as his mind spiraled into a never-ending maze of whipping thoughts and insufferable feelings. Self-loathing was becoming too much to bear — so messy it had started to drown him. He felt his sanity slowly slipping through the cracks of his skull and the only thing he could to do make it stop was to break things. And by things he meant Jim.

“Listen, Jim. I think you should go back home and rest. This is the whiskey talking.” You stated.

“Only if you come home with me, doll.” He ought to say, his grin widening.

Breathless with rage, Arthur felt the heat pooling in his face. A few drops of sweat beaded on his forehead as he shook his wounded hand to clear his flesh from the shards of glass.

“You really should —“

“Come home with me and I’ll make you beg.” He cut off before you had time to turn his invitation down , bringing his hand on one of your thighs to strengthen his point.

Destructive anger flowed through his veins like lava, exploding at the moment the man laid a finger upon you. Agile like a wild cat, Arthur jumped over the counter and rushed toward you, his shoulders tensed and his arms swinging as he walked. Earth shook under his feet, opening the gates of Hell more and more at each of his steps.

“AL-FUCKING-RIGHT THEN,” He blurted out, standing fiercely behind Jim. Arthur’s thundering voice almost made him jump — and it was enough for him to take his hand off your thigh and turned around to meet the Devil’s eyes. You froze on your stool, astounded by your man’s anger.

His face distorted with both fear and confusion at the sight of Arthur Shelby, green with jealousy and maddened with fury, “What the fookin hell did ya say, pal? WHAT THE FOOK DID YOU SAY TO ME WOMAN?” He roared, blue eyes shining with a threatening glow. At this point, Arthur was almost choking with rage.

“Oh my God Arthur, I did not know she was your woman. I’m sorry! I really did not —“ Jim could not finish his sentence for Arthur had grabbed him by the neck and dragged him away from you in front of the few last clients' terrified looks.

“You TOUCHED her! You bloody touched her, ME ANGEL. ME HEAVEN. I can’t fucking believe it,” He spat, his words coated with bitter venom. Swirling in the chaotic vortex of his own fury, he did not hear the man’s bargains. And somehow, he did not care. There was nothing he could say to stop him anymore. Jim tried to utter another apology.

He had barely opened his mouth when Arthur’s fist crushed his nose with such a violent blow the sound of broken bones echoed through the Garrison. The man, almost knocked out by the uppercut, crashed on the wooden floor, a jet of blood gushing from his face, “Oi! Thought you fought in France. Come on, bastard! Fight me!” He snarled, teeth bared like a wild animal.

He’s going to kill him. That was what crossed your mind when you came back to your senses, overcoming the shock of seeing Arthur in such a frenzy state. You got up from your stool, “Arthur… Stop it please.” You called him, trying to be as soft as possible not to fan the flames of his anger.

“I AM NOT GONNA STOP!” He barked, looking at you.

He looked at you

and you saw the Hell in his eyes.

“Heard how he dared to talk to ye? Ah, you wanted to make me angel beg eh?” Arthur kneeled over the whimpering man, almost straddling his quivering body, to grab him by the collar of his coat, “Yeah that’s what you said right. But trust me, you sonofabitch, I’m the one who’ll make you beg!” He yelled, sending another powerful blast to the man’s face with his fists as sole weapons, adorned with thick silver rings. “BEG, YOU BASTARD!”

“P-please—“

Another disgusting sound of torn flesh and cracking skull filled the room. “By order —“ A third punch. Breaking teeth. Jim spat three of them at your feet. “Of the —“ Fourth. Fifth. His knuckles bruised and split under the strength of his blows but Arthur could not care less. All he wanted was to reduce Jim’s face to an unidentifiable slop of flesh. “Peaky —“ Dislocated jaw hanging loosely. The horrible sight was accompanied by the cacophony of bloody gurgles. “Fookin — “ Jim had lost count of the punches that rained down on him. All he knew was that his body was giving up. At one point Arthur Shelby had stopped beating him, only to unstrapped the combat knife he kept in his holster, “BLINDERS!”

“ARTHUR NO!!!” Running to the scene and falling on your knees, you managed to grab his hands and keep him from stabbing the drunk man, “Don’t do that, please I need you. Please, please stop it.”

Please.

Your voice, like a light piercing the thick veil of his darkness, snatched him from his murderous craze. Waking up by the smell of blood mixed with your sweet spring-like perfume, Arthur stopped in the midst of what he was doing and realized he was holding a knife above his head, ready to plunge it into a man’s chest. He took a look at you, noticing the shocked expression on your holy face, and all his anger disappeared into a void. His fingers loosened around the knife, which fell on the wooden floor with a metallic noise, “please Arthur, calm down… Call down, Mon amour.” You whispered, begging him with your eyes. Silence fell on the Garrison, as well as in his mind. The maddening voices had stopped and the buzzing hatred had vanished. Arthur left the unconscious man and collapsed in your arms, panting and shaking. Adrenaline made you shiver too, but you gently hugged his frame, one hand stroking his hair, “That’s okay… I’m here …” You repeated just like a healing chant as a few men grabbed the severely injured victim and took him away from the pub.

“I’m … I’m sorry— Heaven, oh my god —“ Arthur stuttered, slowly realizing what he just did. He buried his face in your breasts, for comfort as well as to hide the blood that had splattered on him. He barely dared to hug your frail body for fear of breaking you. Sometimes, he swore he had hell in his hands and he did not want to bring you down in the flames with him.

“Shhhh… Breathe in. Breathe out. You can do it.” You said with a soothing tone. With divine softness, you ran your fingers through his hair, not minding the blood he smeared on your clothes and bosom, “that’s okay, you’re a good boy..” But as you were trying to chase away your man’s demons, a far too familiar voice echoed in the room.

“What the fuck is this mess?!” Thomas Shelby exclaimed for he had just entered the Garrison, John by his side. His freezing blue eyes looked at you from above. The king was here and he hated what he saw.

“John, bring Arthur home. Everyone OUT.”

This was all it took to empty the Garrison from its remaining clients. When John gently put his hand on his older brother’s shoulder, Arthur’s embrace tightened around your tiny silhouette for he did not want to leave you. “No,” he managed to beg between two heartbreaking sobs. His face still hidden, not daring to look at you for fear of seeing disgust and anger in your eyes, Arthur refused to let you go. Somehow, he was convinced you would not go back home — why would you after what you had just witnessed? “Don’t take me away from her!” He said, a bit more fiercely, which resulted in John taking a few steps back and looking at you, silently begging you to help him. In the midst of the chaos, only you could bring him back to his senses. A brief sigh escaped from your lips before you gently forced Arthur to look at you.

“Listen, chéri. I need you to go back home and calm down. I’ll be very quick.”

“No, no, you won’t come back.”

“ I’ll do,” You wiped away his tears with your thumbs, accidentally smearing more blood on his face doing so, “and when I do, I’ll take care of you alright? I’ll keep you warm and loved.” Punctuating your sentence with affection, you slicked his hair back with a frail but oh-so-loving grin on your face. He finally accepted.

When he left alongside John, your smile vanished and you got up from the floor, legs still slightly shaking. Thomas was still standing in the middle of the pub, towering you with all his height, and looking at you with his cold eyes. His chilling stare followed your movements as you walked to the bar and poured yourself another glass of wine.

“I told you to keep a low profile,” He began. Thomas Shelby’s voice was dressed in an apparent quiet, but something in his tone was threatening — and even though he did not display any sign of emotion, you knew his blood was boiling.

“Oh come on Thomas, all I wanted was to make a surprise to Arthur.” You took a mouthful of wine — the much-needed alcohol calming your anxiety.

Thomas closed his eyes for a few seconds and pinched the bridge of his nose to stop his dawning headache, “ A surprise… I hope you like the result then,” He retorted, before shifting his eyes back to you,

“Listen, I know you don’t like me but — ”

“He nearly killed someone for you. What the fuck are you doing to my brother, eh?” Tommy slightly tilted his head to the side, a spark of resentment lightening up his icy iris. You remained silent, still not believing Thomas was really blaming you for Arthur’s outburst. Of course, you had not reacted immediately, but the shock had petrified you for a few long minutes — but was it your fault if he had beaten the man? Certainly not. At this point, Tommy was just lashing out at you for all the issues his family was facing. It was far easier than admitting his own flaws and responsibility. Visibly infuriated by your silence, Tommy walked to you and stopped only a few inches from you, trapping your body between the counter and his own strong frame. He was close — so close your breasts were almost pressed against his chest, “Look me in the eyes when I fucking talk to you, Heaven.” He spat your name with disgust, as if he had just bitten into an apple filled with maggots.

“Get my pretty name out of your mouth,” You looked dagger at him, anger rushing through your veins at such an unwanted proximity. Yet you did not flicker.

“You fucking white Devil,” He hissed through his teeth, his low voice still calm in spite of his blooming hatred, “Are you happy to spread chaos in our life? What do you want from us ey?” He leaned over you, bringing his face closer to yours. With his brows slightly furrowed, Tommy’s sky blue eyes were probing yours, trying to understand the mystery they hid behind their aquamarine wonders, ”What do you want from me?! After Arthur is this me you want to control??” He growled. Your heart raced in your chest — shivers ran down your spine, and goosebumps appeared on your porcelain skin, for his unpredictable behavior was starting to worry you.

“I don’t want anything from you Thomas Shelby. Whether you like it or not I’m being honest with your brother. You know Arthur’s emotional, you can’t blame me for that. You take away his meds, turn him into a killer, and now you’re surprised he snaps?? How. Fucking. Unbelievable! Do you know what I think? Well, I think you need me to be your scapegoat . You need to blame me for your sins. For everyone’s sins.”

“Fucking burn in hell,” He spat again but could not find something to retort properly. It seemed like the skies gave you the gift of shutting Thomas Shelby's mouth. Instead, one of his hands grabbed you by the neck and forced your face to get closer to his. His breath fanned over your skin, as burning as a dragon’s fire.

“Be careful with the Rule of Three, Thomas. For each spell you cast always returns to you three times stronger.” You whispered. Then you gathered all your remaining strength to push him away from you, his musky and peculiar perfume almost making your head spin. Not wanting to stay here any longer — and also longing for a hot shower to wash away the blood from your skin —, you headed to the Garrison’s door. Obviously, Tommy’s eyes followed you but he did not say anything, muted by his resentment. Admittedly, he was torn between the urge to bounce on you and the desire to see you leave. You were about to disappear, the cold breeze of the night jumping at your face and rushing into the pub as you opened the wooden door. But your instincts kicked in. After a few seconds of hesitation, you finally decided to warn little king Shelby.

“By the way..." You looked at Thomas from above your shoulder.

"You should keep an eye on Charles. You really should.”

He froze. Confused and infuriated.

You left. Hurt and bitter.

When you came back home, you crossed your reflection in the corridor’s mirror. Your body refused to work anymore and forced you to stop in front of it. Facing your own person was something you hated. With trembling fingers, you brushed the blood stain Arthur had left on one of your cheeks.

Mom! Mom, no!!

I’ll fucking kill you all!!

You clenched your jaw at the memory it triggered, but still, you kept looking at your tainted ivory skin as if you were slowly learning to come to terms with what you did and what you were. Your fingers trailed down your throat until they grazed the top of your bosom, where the blood had accumulated the most. Another painful memory assaulted your mind, replaying the aching, almost inhuman screams of your little sister when her flesh had been eaten alive by the hungry tongues of the pyre’s flames.

Only God knew how you managed to keep your mind from spiraling into the darkest pits of your trauma, but you did — maybe that was because Arthur needed you. That protective instinct was stronger than your own pain. That was why you tricked your body into moving away from the mirror and went upstairs to take a hot shower before joining your man in bed. John had probably managed to convince him to sleep. Or his body had collapsed on the mattress, exhausted by the energy poured in his latest outburst.

As the running water of the shower was filling the bathroom with its regular and soothing noise, you slowly let your white dress slip along your body until it fell on the floor, as well as your lace panties. You stepped over the pile of clothes and, without waiting any longer, you hopped under the shower and welcomed its warm water with utter joy. A sigh of relief escaped from your lips as you tilted your head back, water hugging your body and raining down on your long white mane that cascaded down your lower back. You almost managed to empty your mind when, suddenly, one gentle calloused hand brushed your hip. Jumping in surprise, you turn around and saw that Arthur had joined you under the shower. His hands, arms, and face were still splattered with half-dried blood he had not cleaned. To be true, he had been too busy curling up on the bedroom floor, panicking about at the idea of you leaving him after what you had witnessed.

“You’re here…” His gravel voice said, water falling on his naked body whose millions of freckles drew magnificent constellations on his skin.

“Told you I’d come back.”

He smiled, softly. His steel blue had stopped avoiding you and was now firmly anchored in yours.

He took a step toward you.

You stepped back in response until your bare body met the cold shower wall.

Your pulse quickened, fascinated by the way Arthur looked. He had something in his eyes — a mix of limerence and pure madness who, combined with the crimson stains on his face, made your legs weak. His breath was slow but yours soon became erratic, even though he had barely touched you yet.

“You ain’t scared, love? Please, tell me you ain’t scared of your Arthur…” He said, his lower lip trembling as his body perfectly interlocked with yours. A small growl escaped from his throat at the intoxicating sensation of yours curves pressed against his skin. But despite his inextinguible desire, he still looked at you with hesitation and genuine guilt — his puppy eyes would surely break anyone’s heart.

“No, I’m not scared,” You replied, not shifting your gaze from him. The corner of your juicy and honey lips stretched in a small grin, “You…” You paused, bringing one hand to his stained cheek, “you look pretty with blood all over your face.”

Arthur’s eyes lightened with both surprise and ravaging desire, for you had witnessed the beast’s violence but still thought he was attractive. A twisted wave of arousal shook you to the core when he bared his teeth in a vaguely dangerous but oh-so-seductive smirk.

“Oh bloody hell, angel…” Not finishing his sentence, his lips captured yours in a fury kiss for he could not wait any longer. The need to possess you, to feel you, was too devastatingly strong to resist. At first, his lustful kiss surprised you, and even though you burnt for him l, a part of you felt it was wrong to feel this kind of twisted attraction. Last thing Arthur needed was someone encouraging his violence — but your brain soon shut down at the thought he did it for you. Only you. Your arms locked up around his neck to deepen the waltz of your tongues, sending fireworks in your loins. It was far than enough to turn Arthur on who, all of sudden, lifted you from the ground as if you weighted nothing.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, already suffocating with the hungry way he devoured your mouth and the shower’s steam accumulating around you.

As water rained down on your two intertwined bodies, it washed away the blood from your skins. The tainted liquid disappeared down the drain, leaving pale red stains on the bathtub's immaculate marble.

You kissed him harder. Rougher. Until his flesh dived into yours in an explosion of pleasure and shooting stars.

For you had seen the Hell in his eyes, and loved it anyway.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alones but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.

Tagging those who might be interested: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08

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wayward-persephone · 2 years

Note

What do you think their reaction would be to a girl who has a choking and hand kink? 💕 Perhaps with The Grabber, Arthur Harrow, Edward Dalton, and King Aurvandil? 💘 Thank you!!

The Grabber/Albert Shaw

Honestly he would be a little surprised at first. He uses choking mainly as a show of dominance, but he's an absolute sucker for showering you with pleasure so he would probably just find another 'thing' to do to show he's in charge. As for a hand kink...he would explore that ruthlessly. Would shove his fingers in your mouth to make you suck on them while fucking you, would plop you in his lap to warm him while he lets you play with his hands and fingers just so he can feel you tighten and flutter around him, and would also touch you a lot more frequently just to hear your breath catch.

Arthur Harrow

I headcanon him as a secret freak. So once he's alone and comfortable with you...he will absolutely indulge his little Goddess. He would be fascinated by your reactions, of course lavishing you with loving paise and affection even as he's choking you while fucking you, and he would love to to make you come just like that. It's about pride with him at that point. It would also get him a little hot and bothered seeing your infatuation with just his hands.

Edward Dalton

Would be a little hesitant about choking you, but quickly grows enthralled by the feeling of your pulse underneath his hands. Would get breathless at even the slightest brush of his fingertips against your pulse point, especially when you willingly offer your throat for him to wrap his hand around, and of course it always ends with a nice little bite and a smile on your face. Your hand kink is pretty much fulfilled all the time. He's constantly making you suck on his fingers, glowing eyes rapt on your mouth as he purrs softly in approval, and you quickly realize that he has a kink/obsession with your hot mouth. So you both are happy with this arrangement.

King Aurvandil

Gif by @transjohnny

He chokes you before he even realizes you have a kink and, even when he does realize it, he just laughs in delight. He will use it as leverage to help you stay balanced when you are bouncing on his cock, or when he's pulling you back as he's taking you from behind, or to just hold you down as he's on top of you. He loves it and will make sure to press small kisses on your throat in thanks once you're boneless from pleasure. He would find your hand kink endearing. Would make sure to wear his best rings just to watch you play with his fingers as soon as you're in reaching distance, would watch with heavy lidded eyes as you absentmindedly lick the dessert from his fingers after he hand feeds it to you, and would melt on the inside when you nuzzle his palm into your cheek when he's telling you stories of past battles.

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pascallatte · 1 year

Text

Let's go to the beach

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x actress!reader

Summary: first sighting of the newly announced couple in public (a compilation of sightings in Hawaii)

Date: 2018 March

Warning/s: age gap, the first "video" was from a pap, the word screeching, not in your pov.

Taglist: @benonlinear, @t-stark35, @heyitsme-2, @elleeeee21, @holmesstrange, @tagakalat, @flyestvenustrap, @oldermenaremyreligion, @cherryred444, @avengersheart, @guacala, @pukka-latte, @hobiismyhopeu, @lilvampirina

a/n: I put this out because I want to but also because I might do something later too since I was inspired by one comment from you guys. Anyways hope you enjoy this !!!

Series Masterlist

Video from @deathalinechase

The wind hit the camera as soon the person started filming, it was obvious that the person was from a far distance hence the total zoom they did to get a clearer and closer look at you guys.

The cast of Triple Frontier: Oscar, Charlie, Garrett and Ben were on the shoreline talking to most probably their instructor for the day. They were all sporting the topless and swim trunks look, seeing that they were being told to dive.

On the far left, under the shade of a large rock and an umbrella, the newly announced couple was seen lying down on the sand, Pedro on his knees, wearing something similar to his cast mates, while you were wearing a black bikini. The two of you were seen talking— most probably teasing each other after you were seen playfully punching his chest as he gracefully fell next to you on the blanket.

The video blacked out but came back almost immediately, just in time to see you lean in for a short kiss, before taking Pedro’s sunglasses. He was called in by staff later on, leaving you in the shade to read your book.

Video from @.shashaila4013

The video started off with the usual, “I unexpectedly met Pedro Pascal and Y/n L/n while on vacation.” Shaila, as per her handle, introduced herself before heading straight to how she met the two.

“So my friends and I were in this place in Hawaii, that was recommended to us by the locals. It was all fun and games before we headed out for a dip at our place. So when we got there there were all these vans and like cars out in the specified parking area, which made our taxi stop and lead us to walk to the beach itself.” She explained showing pictures and videos of her and her friends.

“When we rounded up near this big ass rock, we were stopped by these people in black saying there was a shoot going on. At that moment we were annoyed since it meant we had to walk all the way back, which was a long walk by the way. So on the way back, we decided to just keep walking and exit the other way, AND THIS IS WHERE IT HAPPENED.”

“A friend of mine, Katie, pointed out the cameras and the amount of crew on the beach so being the troublemaker that she is she slipped past the fence for a minute to go and see who was there. So she ran back all smiley and shouting names we weren’t able to hear at first. Katie babbled on seeing that the one from King Arthur was there, along with Ben Affleck. She then like jumped up to join us on the other side, now shouting that she has seen Pedro and Y/n walking in our direction.” She breathes out to calm herself as she reminisced on the feeling.

“Ok, so we didn’t believe her at first. But of course, it had to be true because they really appeared in front of us, hand in hand with two other staff members assisting them. So us being the fangirls that we are screeched our lungs out making them look at us, actually let me just show you the messed up video we took."

As said, screeches were heard as soon as the video was played, you and Pedro were seen standing directly in front of them assuming they were waiting for something or someone. Pedro was seen wearing a loose white shirt and his swimming trunks, while you were wearing this Hawaiian print button-up shirt that was evidently Pedro’s because of the size. Hearing the noise, you turned to look only to make eye contact with Shaila herself. An audible noise was made from the back of her throat before she was seen waving at you. You having fun seeing their reactions waved back which resulted in guess what?… more screeches.

One of the girls asked if they can take pictures with Pedro, which Pedro looked at you first before nodding at them, beckoning them to stand near him. The video stopped at that, making her continue her not-so-short story now.

“The video accidentally ended when we went to them so let me tell you what happened. At first, y/n thought we were going for Pedro alone so she kind of like stranded away from him, but of course Pedro seeing her actions looked at us, like really LOOKED at us. Not in a judgy way but in a why, and kind of like asking way?-" she questioned herself.

"-Before extending a hand out for y/n, she insisted that she was okay, but me being a bigger fan of hers called to her asking if we can take a picture WITH her. She looked at me like with the largest eyes before nodding-“

“-And so yeah we took a couple of pictures after that.” shaila then placed the photos on screen, seeing the genuine smiles you had on your faces. As well as the sweet and protective stance Pedro had on you seeing that in the picture you were surrounded by the group which made him wrap and arm around your waist so that you won’t get squeezed or pulled back due to the people moving around you to fit in the picture.

“Assuming you guys would be asking questions about them, let’s start off with Pedro. Both of them were shocked to see us by the way, I mean who wouldn’t, we were screeching and all. And he looked good as hell by just wearing a plain white shirt. he had the warmest voice I’ve heard coming from a guy and had one of the sweetest smiles. I also didn’t expect he’d be that taller than me given that I was 5’7, but yeah he was towering over us. Now, this is the cute part, y/n was small— like small-small, I think she reached just below my ear which made her look up at us. Her height difference with Pedro was adorable, she just reached up to like under his chin- something like that, al-and-” Smiling wildly at the camera, she buried her face in her pillow. Before getting up as quickly.

“-She’s the sweetest I’m telling you, they were the most humble pair of celebrities I’ve ever met, after we said our thanks and apologies for interrupting them they just like smiled and said thank you back like it was nothing, they also offered us the drinks they ordered, which was the reason as to why they went our direction in the first place. They were also so sweet to each other seeing that Pedro was blocking her out of the sunlight and her asking if he was fine after a minute. They also argued about who’d take the most drinks back but someone helped them so they took like a bag each. Yeah, so that’s the story of how I met my now favourite celebrity couple. Thank you!”

Video from @gabefkundest17

Like the first video, this was shot from a far distance since the area you were in was closed off hours ago for a night celebration.

The sun was already setting at that time, making people go out of their cottages to watch it. Gabe’s group were one of those who went out and at the right timing saw you guys setting up to watch it too.

“It’s really them, I’m telling you.” Assuming this person was Gabe, said looking in the direction of the blocked-off area.

Mumbling was heard coming from a friend of his, making him shake his head. “No, it was leaked they’d be filming in Hawaii, just not which part of Hawaii. If I do get this right you’ll buy me drinks the whole night.”

Gabe was seen walking closer to the shore, almost parallel to you guys, and zoomed in. And at that moment he sucked in a breath hiding his excitement. slapping his friend in front of him, “I told you it was them.”

There in front of them were you and Pedro, laying down on a beach towel near the shore. Music coming from your side of the beach was heard in the video, confirming that it wasn’t just a spot for the two of you. It was uneventful, to say the least before the music switched up into something more lively.

Pedro being the dancer that he is turned to look at you and grinned. Wordlessly, he extended a hand out to you, beckoning for you to go dance with him. The group Gabe was in was silent during the whole interaction, they, however, let out similar squeals when you were seen reaching up and pulled into Pedro’s arms as you both tried to stay on beat, Pedro being the most on par.

“Aww isn’t that the cutest. If I knew they’d be like this, I would’ve stayed tuned for years.” One friend cooed which made Gabe chuckle. Zooming in a bit more, you were both seen with large grins on your face, laughing when one of you makes a mistake, which the majority of the time was you.

Your little moment was then interrupted when Charlie called to Pedro from afar saying that something was ready. This only made Pedro shout out an audible, “Yeah, we’ll be there.”

He turned to look back at you and walked closer, for him to be able to wrap an arm around your shoulders. You were still laughing when you leaned in closer to him, arm now around his waist. Pedro was seen leaning down to kiss your temple, making you smile up at him before pecking his jaw.

Muffled sounds of excitement were the last things heard on Gabe’s end before he said bye ending the video.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x actress!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x female reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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zcorners120 · 2 years

Text

shut up, and get in. (pt. 2)

requested by @oneafterdark

arthur leclerc x fem!reader

synopsis; Arthur's mixed feelings surface, causing your relationship to twist from enemies to.. ?

warnings; close proximity, none

MASTER LIST

He opens the car door for you, letting your soggy shoes squelch across the grand driveway. Walking up to the mahogany double doors, you take off your jacket that was clinging to your cold and wet body, wringing the water from it.

You stop walking and groan, knowing that the rest of your clothes will be no better. Arthur catches up to you, and plucks the jacket from your hand whilst still walking up to the doors.

"Uh-" You spoke, but being interrupted by him.

"Hurry up, I don't want you getting hypothermia." His deep voice spoke out, so you speed-walk over behind him.

He opens the door with a fumble with his keys, and holds the door open. You walk in and take in the huge space that consists of a grand piano, high ceilings with the walls adorned with huge windows. Plants scattered about in all different greens, and abstract paintings finishing the walls.

You stand next to the door awkwardly, feeling odd being so into his personal space. He looks at you, sensing the tension. Your clothes carry on dripping, making small taps against the floor.

"So, I thought-" You start, trying to break the tension.

"You can-" You both started talking at the exact same time, making this even worse.

"Uhm, go ahead." You say meekly, slightly shivering and wanting to get a taxi home already.

"I'll lead you upstairs, you can take a shower and I'll give you some clothes." He says firmly, looking down at your jacket before moving onwards, looking back to see you following slowly.

You walk behind up the winding staircase, wondering what's going through his mind.

He opens a door, revealing a king size bed, the rooms aesthetic full of modern toned greys, whites and blacks. Embellished with medals and trophies, his room stunting his career.

"You can give me your clothes, and go through that door to shower." He says, laying on the bed and turning the television on that was on the opposite wall.

You blush profusely red, realising you were in his room, going to shower in his bathroom, all whilst he wants your clothes. He looks at you, confused.

"I'll just leave my clothes in the bathroom." You say embarrassed, hoping this wasn't an attempt to get you naked.

"Fine by me." He says, standing from the bed to open some drawers and his closet doors, turning to hand you a top of his.

"Thank you." Your short reply showed your real personality coming back. This was comical, you and Arthur Leclerc playing niceties in his room?

You took the gesture, thinking that he knew you had a rough day and both of your emotions were up in the air. Turning away from him, you opened the door to his bathroom.

The shower wall was covered in intricate emerald tiles, with big white towels in little storage compartments next to the sink ready. The tiles extended down to the bottom of the wall, showing the sleek and clear glass pane to the shower. Looking to your right you saw a tremendous claw foot tub that looked practically untouched, with a window above, showing the incredible views of the Monaco coastline.

You instantly adored the interior designer who worked on his house, because it was truly incredible. Moving away from his impressive house, you started slugging off your worn and soaked clothes hearing them thump onto the tiled floor miserably.

You turned the squeaky shower knob, turning the water on. You step into the warmth, enveloping you into a well needed hug. You stood there as the water pours down onto you, regaining the feeling of your feet back.

You thought you shouldn't be using his water for so long, since he probably wants you out as soon as possible.

You turn the water off, and step out to dry yourself off with a towel. You put your underwear back on, and slip his oversized top on, knowing you can't put your damp jeans back on.

You plait your wet hair into a single dutch braid, and step out holding your wet clothes. If you thought your confusing feelings for Arthur weren't prominent enough, then you were in trouble. You made eye contact with him as he's laying on his bed, shirtless, wearing black joggers and a chain.

His messy blonde hair screaming at you to run before you get any ideas. But little did you know, is that he was also internally freaking out. Seeing you in his top, looking so delicate, and wholesome.

"Come sit." He spoke out, trying to fight his body to stop looking at you.

You walk over, sitting at the side of his bed awkwardly, getting your phone out to open the Uber app.

"I'll call myself a ride, thank you for.. everything you know." You said softly, trying to show your appreciation.

"No, you're staying. I'm not letting you go off with some random dude in the dark thunderstorm." The Monegasque quickly retaliates.

"Uber is a trusted app, thank you very much. Plus, where would I even sleep?" You retort, surprised by his comment.

"You'd be with me, obviously. We can watch a movie, we can separate the bed with pillows, and we'll go to work together." He says, as if this is something he had done a million times before.

"Bold to assume that I like that plan." You snort, his ego showing as per.

"Anything including me, you love." He shoots back, sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm picking the movie." You state, snatching the remote out of his grip, moving up to the top of the bed resting your back against the pillow.

He moved up next to you, slightly smirking at your attitude. You pick to watch 'extraction', as you absolutely adore action movies. As the movie progresses and the outside world slips deeper and deeper into the night, you subconsciously got under the covers, as Arthur moved inches closer to you, knowing what he was doing.

The movie becomes quieter and vaguer as you slip into the tricks of sleeping. You had turned away from the movie and towards Arthur, snuggling your head into the comfortable cotton pillow.

He turned to see you sleeping, and turned the movie off, laying down next to you. He tucked a loose piece of your hair behind your ear, as he also slipped into his own dreams.

Waking up was definitely a shock to the system, realising you were tightly wrapped in Arthur's arm, his shirt that you were wearing ridden up, nearly indecently exposing yourself.

Trying to slowly peel his arm off you and get up, he only pressed you closer to him.

This is the moment you realised that your feelings were clear, and so were his, even if he was unconscious.

A/N; not totally sure on whether i like this or not, oops

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 6 months

Note

Hi there! Can I request Arthur Dayne x reader!AFAB for kinktober with the age difference prompt please? Thank you!

I am still stunned by this. Thank you for giving me such a character to write about!

“The Black Swan”

Pairing: Arthur Dayne x Fem. Reader (second person) | Location: Street of Silk

Themes: Smut (Lemon/Graphic) | Secret romance

Word count: 1.8k words

Summary: Arthur makes the most of his time alone with his companion, and in one of the only places safe enough for him to do so.

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

A/n: From what I could find, Arthur was born during or 260 AC. Given that this is an age difference post, I decided to go with him being born somewhere during or just after 240 AC. The reader in this scenario is 21+. This story takes places sometime during 280 AC.

Arthur was a sworn brother of the King’s Guard. He pledged a solemn vow to take no wife and father no children after he donned the white. He had honored those vows for most of his years of service, and that was nigh on eighteen years ago, when his father finally agreed to release him from his duties toward his family.

All that changed as the years and time serving Aerys took their collective toll on him. When Arthur kneeled before the High Septon, he had been a man of two and twenty, full of dreams of honor and service and glory. Now Arthur was a man nearing forty, disillusioned with his lot in life and tired of a king that drank deep the poison that plagued many of his forebearers.

He kept his head down and pulled up a thick hood while he walked down the Street of Silk, garbed in rough-spun robes. No one dared to look at him. Everyone else was too occupied with their own business to even care. Arthur threaded his way around peasants and merchants and sailors, taking care not to reveal too much of himself and make himself known. Someone tugged on the hem of his cloak. It was a beggar woman, dressed in rags. He obliged her with a few stars, refusing to linger more than was necessary. Arthur walked on, keeping to narrow pathways and filthy alleys, not stopping until a familiar, well-paved street scented with jasmines and awash in red and gold light came into sight.

His eyes lit up. The gilded lamps of the Black Swan appeared at the far end of the Street of Silk, its garden full of old trees. It was the only place one could find trees outside of the Red Keep, and its night-blooming blossoms were a welcome sight to the knight.

It was also the only place he found pleasing and safe enough for his trysts. Arthur had heard the gossip about how others at court would bring their paramours here, how some of his sworn brothers came here. Arthur understood the appeal. The Black Swan was the only proper trysting house on the Street of Silk for those who were high-born. Its rooms were airy and warm, its wine delicate and fine, and its proprietress and the servants in her employ were considerate and discrete. And those, such as the knights of the King’s Guard, demanded discretion.

Arthur squirmed in discomfort. What he and his brothers-in-arms were doing was wrong. It went against their vows and against the teachings of the Seven who were One. They were damning themselves in many ways by coming here. Still, the chance to indulge in the sweetness that came to him in life was rare. Arthur did not want to let such precious occasions slip by.

“My lord,” Helya lifted her head when large doors swung open, and caught sight of a familiar pair of scuffed-up boots. The mistress of the house went no further than a cursory title. Anything more would be dangerous, not just for her patron but for her and her place of business. “Your lady arrived just before you did. I have set aside a room for your particular use.”

Arthur kept his gaze down and his hood up. He slipped a heavy bag of coin into soft, perfumed hands. “How is she?”

“Uneasy,” Helya admitted, leading him down a dimly lit corridor filled with the smoke of lavender incense. “I hope you understand why, what with all these tales around our king.”

“I do.” Arthur turned to his left and peered down another dark corridor. Was that Oswell’s deep, smug laugh he heard? He prayed that it was not so. One knight of the King’s Guard vanishing into the night, only to appear hours later, could be dismissed easily with a well-crafted tale. Two or more, on the other hand, could not. And then they would all have to answer to both King and the Council.

“You are the only one present this night,” Helya reassured him. “The others are not here.”

Relief, no matter how small, was relief all the same. Arthur nodded and urged Helya to lead him on, his blood heating when muffled moans and gasps and cries spilled out of locked rooms. When they came upon a wide, wooden door, Helya gave him a brass key, made her excuses, and left. Arthur wasted no time, pushing the door open and locking it behind him without another thought. He turned around, sighing softly, when a cooling sea breeze blew in through an open window. The flames of nearby candles flickered and danced, throwing strange shadows onto sandy brick walls.

“Are you here, sweetling?” Arthur removed his hood and hung it on a wooden peg on the back of the door. He slipped out of his boots, already giddy with silent but eager anticipation.

“I am here, Ser,” you reply, and step out of the shadows, clad in the silken wisps Arthur had once gave as a gift.

Impatient as he was, Arthur did not wish to hurry—not for a long while at least. He strode over and took your hand, leading you to a nearby seat made especially for two. As soft and comfortable as that seat was, it was not big enough for him, for Arthur was tall and large and imposing.

Tonight, his often stern eyes were full of sadness. You reached out and caressed his cheek. “What troubles you, Ser?”

“The same as always, sweetling.” Arthur closed his eyes, his mood souring. “The king. The choices I made before coming to this city. I hope you do not take offense to my not speaking further about such matters. I do not wish to soil my time with you by regaling you with tales of woe.”

“I understand. Were you seen, Ser?”

“No. And how many times must I ask you not to call me Ser, at least while we are beneath this roof?”

You smiled broadly. “One more time, Ser. As always. “

Arthur’s smile, a rare sight on most occasions, mirrored yours. Then he leaned in.

His kiss was sweet and languid and patient—a far cry from the wet, messy kisses you had become accustomed to. But then again, such was to be expected of him. Arthur curled a finger under your chin, tilting it to the side before dipping his head, the still brown stubble along his cheeks grazing your skin. The shiver that greeted Arthur made him tremble, filled him with an all-too-common craving that demanded to be satisfied. He drew back, slipped his arms around you, and lifted you up.

The featherbed was soft, and its sheets were made of the finest silk. That was another thing that made the Black Swan special: how Helya spared no expense when turning the abandoned manse of a now-dead merchant into a little haven for those who desired it.

And Arthur was grateful that Oswell spoke to him about its existence.

“Lay back, sweetling,” he surged, impatient to disrobe himself. You move higher up the bed, your cheeks blazing when rough-spun robes are disposed of, and a finely formed body littered with old scars is exposed to dim light. Arthur caught your eyes darting away and chuckled to himself.

“Do not hide yourself from me,” he implored. “We have come to mean too much to each other for that.”

The featherbed sank as you turned to face him, the haunting lilac eyes that were like hooks for the soul, and the skin that reminded you of the golden sands of Dorne. Arthur cupped your cheek again, his thumb tracing a lazy line. The world outside went silent. Or, perhaps, it was just him and you ignoring everything else. He pulled you close, his arms strong but exceedingly gentle. His skin smelled of leather and sweat. It was a knight’s scent. One deep breath was all it took, and you were already under his spell. Arthur pushed you onto your back, closing his eyes when your mouth opened beneath his. He pulled your wisps off you, his hands still warm to the touch.

Kissed by the summer sun, you mused. Just like the rest of him.

His hands glided all over now, leaving no inch untouched. A finger slid up inside you, sheathing itself in your warmth. Your arms slipped around his back and pulled him closer. Arthur found himself being urged to go deeper. He groaned delightfully in response.

“Temptress,” he whispered in your ear and dipped his head, moving even lower, eager to taste.

You moaned, long, deep, and husky. The heat of his mouth and the softness of the tongue pressing broad strokes over your folds, gave way to new pleasure and fed his own. You bowed up, arched your hips, half-whispering words that would have made you blush in the bright light of day. Arthur chuckled faintly. It was another rare thing, and more than that, it was one that was for your ears alone. He dipped his head again, now fucking you with the flat of his tongue, now slipping a thick finger into your cunt, now shifting to that sinful tongue of his again, on and on until his lips and tongue and chin were soaked. You murmured, so close were you to peaking. Arthur stopped and climbed up. The legs that wrapped around his hips were all the invitation he needed to plunge hard and plunge deep.

He never fumbled—not even once—nothing like wet behind the ears lordling who was your first. Then again, Lord Brynden was a selfish young man who had only ever thought of his pleasure, and never yours. Arthur was different. He wanted to give instead of just taking and taking with no care for anything else. Even now, it is the same. He kept his attention on you, his hands teasing and toying, his eyes flashing—now searing, now hungry, now dark. You reared up and kissed him, then pulled him down with you. Arthur clasped your hands in his and pinned them to the pillows. His grunts were low and ceaseless. They vibrated against your throat. His cock filled you in a way you could never conceive. It was extraordinary and startling at the same time. Your body hummed as if electrified. Something within tightened, then snapped. The orgasm that followed was quick and sharp, like a flash of golden light that blurred your eyes. Arthur drove into you again and again until he shattered, spilling himself after one last powerful thrust.

If I die on the morrow, he thought, it will be as a happy man.

Arthur opened his eyes, his chest still heaving from the exhilaration. Sounds trickled in through the windows and the crack beneath the door. Waves crashed against the cliffs. A storm was approaching. There was music too, though nowhere as loud. Someone was strumming a viol. Another was singing. Two of the servants, no doubt, entertaining those enjoying cups of wine. Arthur took a deep, steadying breath, and slowly rose to his shaky knees. He helped you into your robe, then bent down to kiss you, teasing you with promises of more to come.

“Stay just as you are, sweetling,” he said, his smile warming his eyes. “I will send for a meal and some wine.”

#arthur dayne #arthur dayne imagine #arthur dayne x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader insert request #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #arthur dayne smut

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mendes-bae · 1 year

Text

A fair exchange – part six

series masterlist ; part five ; part seven

Part six summary: Velarys and Aemond meet again.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x (F) Targaryen!reader

Warning: NSFW 🔞 incest, angst, kissing, smut, PiV sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, CHARACTER DEATH.

Author's note: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! this is my first time writing a fic in English, so beforehand, i'm sorry 👀

All the rights belong to the showrunners of HOTD and George R.R Martin, author of Fire and blood & Song of ice and fire series‼️

Word count: 2460

Velarys accepted Lord Lyon's advice and reached for the room Aemond was in.

The princess took courage and opened the room door. When she entered, her husband was on the balcony, looking the most beautiful garden she had ever seen. The white linen curtains contrasted with his black leather outfit.

Aemond heard footsteps behind him and turned around.

Velarys saw him after so many days and felt her body relax. She could run to him and hug his body so tightly that it could leave him without air.

"I knew you would come sooner or later to visit your dear friend" he said with his hoarse voice.

Aemond set the golden goblet of wine on a small nearby table and crossed his arms over his chest.

Velarys walked to the table in the center of the room and poured herself a glass of water just to avoid Aemond's gaze and keep her hands busy since they were shaking.

"What are you doing here?" She asked bringing the small goblet to her lips.

"I guess the same as you, getting allies for my king"

She clicked her tongue after the liquid went down her throat.

"I see you haven't changed your mind" She put the glass back on the mahogany table.

"Aren't you glad to see me?" Her husband ignored what Velarys just said.

"I thought you wouldn't be so happy to see me"

"I will always want to see you, sweet wife" He approached the princess, causing her to step back and collide with the wooden table. "Even though you have abandoned me"

"I had no choice. You made me choose between you and my sister"

"Did you ever consider that perhaps Rhaenyra is not a good candidate for the Iron Throne?"

"She..."

"And maybe Aegon isn't either"

Velarys looked at him strangely, since each one had already made it clear where their loyalties lay.

"Have you ever thought that maybe second children are a better option?" Aemond moved even closer to his wife, so close that his nose was on her cheek.

"Not only do you want to take the power away from our sister, now you want it for yourself?"

"Have you ever imagined me on the Iron Throne?... because I have. I imagined you sitting on it, in front of you all the lords of Westereos swearing allegiance to you"

His nose traveled down her throat, his lips leaving kisses on her skin.

"You would look so sexy with a crown on your head... my queen"

Velarys had never wanted power for herself, in fact everything she did in the small council was to strengthen her sister's claim, but suddenly having Aemond talking to her like that between her legs made a fire settle in her belly.

The princess groaned at his words.

"Beg me to fuck you, my queen." Aemond said against her ear, Velarys moaned louder.

"Please... I need you like i never did before, Aemond"

The prince kept kissing her soft skin, his wet lips touching the edge of her breasts.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard that all the fucking Tyrells will hear how good I make you feel"

With nothing else to say, Aemond lifted her dress up to her hips. His hands cupped her thighs and made her legs wrap around his waist.

The prince's hand clamped down sharply on Velarys's jaw, causing her to look at him. Aemond loved Velarys's expressions.

"You have to thank your queen for sending you here, you have no idea how much I wanted to see you"

Velarys closed her eyes at his words.

"I missed you so much" The princess admitted.

Aemond brought his lips close to her.

"Me too"

The princess couldn't resist and leaned down to kiss him. It was a kiss like no other they had shared, it was desperate and wild.

Suddenly, Aemond let go of her wife and took her by the shoulders before turning her around. The skin of her hips crashed against the table, her ass pointed at her husband's manhood.

Aemond saw her exposed pale skin and felt a sudden desire: following his instincts, he reached down and bit her ass cheeks.

Velarys let out a scream of surprise and lust, her husband laughed at her reaction.

"Aemond" the princess moaned with desire.

Her husband quickly dropped his black leather pants to his ankles and lustfully guided his cock to her wet entrance.

He entred to her cunt with one thrust and both of them gasped at the sensation.

"I missed this pussy"

Velarys pinched his ass and with her fingers pulled him closer to her, feeling his cock deeper into her.

"Move"

"Whatever my queen asks for"

Aemond didn't stop for playing games, he began to move quickly against his wife's butt.

The sound of their skins bumping against each other and their muffled moans were heard throughout the room and surely outside of it, but they didn't care that someone could hear them.

The prince released Velarys's breasts, which were bouncing from their sudden movements, he took them in his hands and massaged them how he knew his wife loves.

Velarys moaned and guided her left hand to her clit and caressed it desperately.

"Cum for me, my queen"

Only Gods knew how it turned on her hearing him call her that.

After a few thrusts later, wet kisses and caresses, both reached their climax.

Aemond moaned against the white-haired woman's neck as she dropped her head against his shoulder.

Neither of them wanted to move, afraid that this intimate moment would slip through their fingers like water.

"I hate this" Velarys admitted turning her head, looking at her husband out of the corner of her eye.

"Me too" Aemond confessed.

They stayed like that, holding each other for several minutes until Aemond walked a few steps away and got dressed. Velarys did the same.

"Otto sent me here, but clearly I didn't get anything from the Tyrells, they hate my grandfather" said her husband adjusting his wrinkled shirt.

"It's not hard to do so" Aemond didn't reply, his wife was right after all.

"I will depart for Storm's End, immediately"

Velarys couldn't help but think of Luke.

"Why are you telling me all this? We are supposed to be on the enemy side"

"You will never be my enemy, Velarys" said her husband caressing her cheek. "You did what you thought was right, I can't blame you"

Velarys pressed herself against her husband's palm.

"Is it too late to regretted it?" The princess asked with tears in her eyes.

"I think so"

Lovers from opposing sides kissed for the last time before returning to their monarchs.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

Velarys returned from Dorne and felt a tense atmosphere. She hoped to lighten it with the good news she brought for her sister: the Tyrells had kept their word and would serve Rhaenyra as their rightful queen, gathering as many soldiers as they could from their vassal houses and fighting the Hightowers and their allies. On the other hand, Princess Aliandra had pledged some of her Dornish army and sworn knights to the cause on the sole condition that Dorne would remain independent and maintain its rule in the south as it had for the past 130 years.

The princess freed her hands from the leather gloves and entered the council room. There was no one there but Rhaenyra and a few members of the Black council. Her sister turned to meet the arrival of her first envoy but before she could say anything, Daemon hurried into the room and Velarys immediately knew something was wrong.

"What's going on?" asked the Queen of Westeros.

Daemon hesitated for a moment but then said carefully:

"Aemond murdered Lucerys on his way back from Storm's End" her sister's husband waited a moment to continue "The fishermen found Arrax's remains on the shore"

Velarys knew her uncle was not lying, Aemond himself had told her that he would visit Lord Baratheon in search of allies for the Greens. The princess also knew of the grudge that her husband had towards her nephews, of the rivalry that had been going on for years between the princes and the desire for revenge that Aemond felt especially towards Luke.

However, Velarys never thought or imagined that Aemond, her Aemond, hers, would be capable of killing a child.

The princess felt a stabbing pain in her belly as she heard Rhaenyra's piercing screams and pleas for her little boy.

Velarys wanted to get closer to her sister but a sharper pain settled in her low belly. Alerted, the princess lifted her dress quickcly, unashamed by the lords gazes who saw her.

She touched her thighs and discovered that her hand was full of blood. In a panic she looked at Rhaenyra across the room and her gaze told her what she already sensed.

Suddenly, everything turned black.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

Velarys woke up with a gash in her lower belly, dizzy and with a slight fever.

She wanted to stand up, tear the sheets off her body and go in search of her baby, but it was useless, the maids didn't even allow her to leave her bed.

She was weak and her mouth cords made no sound. Tears in her eyes were blurring her vision.

When the Dragonstone Mester entered her room, she listened intently to what he had to say:

"I'm very sorry, your Highness" the old man handed her a small wooden box, inside she could see a mixture of limbs and white hair "I guess your didn't know you were with child"

Velarys from her bed looked at the barely formed baby and she closed her eyes tightly.

"It is at least three moons... we believe it would have been a boy, princess" Velarys took the box in her hands and with her index finger caressed what would have been her son's head "If you want, we can continue with the funeral rites"

"Leave me with him for a few moments" said the princess.

"As you wish, your Highness" the Mester bowed and left the room.

However, Velarys could not be alone with the small body for so long, because minutes later Rhaenyra entered her room.

The youngest sister couldn't look her in the eyes.

"I didn't know i was expecting…" she started to say, but the lump in her throat stopped her from speaking.

Her sister came over to her bed and sat next to her, she squeezed her free hand lovingly because she knew perfectly well how losing a child feels like.

"Seems like a fair exchange. Aemond killed Lucerys and the Gods killed his child in return. A son for a son" Velarys rasped.

"Vela..."

"I want to be alone"

Rhaenyra did what her little sister wanted, and left her in solitude.

The princess sat on her bed for hours looking at her what would have been her child, wishing she had known of his existence earlier.

She refused to cry for another baby, ignored the pain that ate at her and hated every God who had punished her so cruelly.

Hours later, her lady-in-waiting, Rose Westerling, entered the princess's room and saw her at her desk writing on a scroll.

"Do you need anything, Princess?" asked the young lady.

Velarys did not look at her but she spoke as she finished reading what she had written:

"Could you do me a favor, Rose?"

"Anything, My Princess"

"Could you send this to King's Landing?"

"Immediately, your Highness"

She took the paper from Velarys's trembling hands and left the chambers of the white-haired woman.

She wished that only Aemond would read the letter from her handwriting:

If you ever felt love for me, meet me on Claw Isle at sunset.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

Velarys knew it would take at least a couple of hours for the raven to reach the capital. As the hour approached, she wrapped herself in a cloak and went out in search of her dragon.

The princess moved painfully close to Vaghnar and the dragon groaned as he felt his rider. The woman could barely walk and every step she took felt like hell itself.

She approached her dragon, took one of his heads and cradled it in her hands, then brought her forehead together.

"Gimigho" I know, she spoke to Vaghnar in a whisper.

Both shared the mourning for the death of her son, Vaghnar was extremely connected to Velarys and felt just as destroyed as the princess.

She petted him some more and with pain and blood loss, she rode the back of her dragon to fly away from Dragonstone.

They flew for miles and when they saw Claw Isle in the distance, they descended to the shore.

Velarys dismounted Vaghnar, and saw Aemond on the beach.

When he heard Vaghnar, he got up from the ground, brushed the sand from his pants and hurried to the princess.

She wasn't that happy to see him, she made it clear when she slapped his face hard.

Aemond knew he deserved it.

"You killed our nephew" she said bluntly "You were selfish enough to hide it, a group of fishermen found his mutilated body on the shores of Dragonstone Bay, Daemon told Rhaenyra this morning"

"I didn't mean to, I..."

"Even though you did it" she said looking into his eyes for the first time "You left a mother without her son... you know very well how it feels like, how could you do this to her?".

For the first time, she felt a tear roll down her cheek.

"How could you do this to Rhaenyra knowing what it's like to lose a child?" Velarys said wiping away her tears "You felt that pain firsthand, Aemond... it's a feeling I wouldn't wish even to my worst enemy"

"My life will not be long enough to ask for forgiveness, Velarys" he said regretfully "And for that, the Gods will punish me"

"They already did it"

"What are you talking about?"

Velarys pushed back her cloak and took from her small bag the wooden box that the Mester had let her keep, then handed it to her husband.

He took it hesitantly and opened it. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"That is...?"

Velarys just nodded.

"I called him Rhyserys" she admitted, looking at the little body in the box.

Aemond hugged Velarys tightly, and for that moment the war no longer mattered to him.

It didn't matter if the Blacks or the Greens won the Dance of the Dragons, if Aegon or Rhaenyra sat on the Iron Throne, it only mattered about Velarys and showing her how sorry he was, even though nothing he does now would change what his actions had made.

Part seven

Taglist

@mynameisbaby9 @princessmiaelicia @sustisama @daddysfavoritesexkitten @deeeeexx @zverea @tempo-rary-fix @stargaryenx @filmelunar @yor72 @remuslupinwifee @fuckinglittlekitten @may-machin @kaitieskidmore1 @zillahvathek @marvelita85 @25falsafielisa @solacestyles @polireader @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @loomipee @leoramage @iiamthehybrid @darylandbethfanforever9 @bregarc @justpassinbxx @sandronebabyy @ms-dont-care @julianaaleticia @nctma15 @isaxbella749 @tivedetek4869 @maviee @gimalo135 @fedeffy

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minsyal · 1 year

Text

Long May He Reign, Pt. III

Tywin x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: The Hand of the King spends years vying for the princess's affections. Only fate would have it that the two cannot be. As Aerys Targaryen II slowly descends into madness, can their love survive his instability and the war to come?

Warnings: General Game of Thrones violence later on, death and stuff, shitty characterizations, eh age differences, Ser Barristan being a lovely darling ✨

Masterlist

“He may enter.”

With granted permission the guard swung the door open to reveal Tywin dressed in a tunic of red and black. The leather was spotted with holes that revealed more fabric beneath holding a slick sheen to its texture. His hair was combed back without a single strand falling loose to frame his aristocratic physique. Upon spotting the princess in her chosen attire, he did not shroud the look of pride from his profile.

“The dress is fitting.” He tipped his head in an approving fashion, giving her a knowing look at her second choice of gowns. The alluring gaze he held on the definitions of her figure instinctively had her smoothing down the bodice once more. “Lannister red is quite flattering. Though, I am in disbelief that anything would look otherwise.”

An attractive rose tinged at the bridge of her nose and to the heights of her cheekbones as his words resonated in her system like the bass of a song. She brought a delicate finger up to tuck a loose strand of porcelain hair behind her flushing ear and peered at him through the curtains of her eyelashes. “Your words are most appreciated, my lord.” Playing with her fingers in front of her body she hesitated to speak in the presence of her guard, but did so anyway. “You look rather dashing yourself. After all, Lannister red suits a Lannister best.”

He allowed his eyes to linger a moment longer. Then, casting her an astute expression, Tywin nodded and outstretched his arm for her to take. “Come. The tournament waits.”

Made of a white-painted wood and designed to intricately display the Lannister wealth, the carriage waited for its passengers at the base of the Rock. For anyone else it would be vastly improper to sit concealed within the hiding walls of the cart, but as the Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock nobody would dare question his choices. That is, nobody except for the king.

Jostling back and forth as the wheels started turning, the two settled into their respective spots sitting opposite one another. Despite having the space for two more, they chose to sit knee-to-knee. Brushing against each other on occasion was no mistake as the princess situated herself on the edge of her cushion. They had all the secrecy they could ever hope for in such a public environment. Though the population looked on, none could truly tell what was happening within.

After entering the city on horseback, open for the world to see, it felt strange venturing out concealed by the plush walls of the cart. When they arrived, she was tired and not meant for any sort of outing. Her hair had been ditsy, unbraided and flying in all directions. She looked more like a land worker than a royal. Now she was bathed and fashioned in a more suiting way to uphold her title.

Lannisport’s energy was extravagant, too. The unbridled curiosity that bled from the villager’s prying eyes had melted away into a subdued and exotic buzz of anticipation and excitement for the day’s events. Reaching out into the air, the princess was sure she could feel it thick with suspense.

Leaning forward, she let herself fall into a trance as she watched the city pass by. As they ventured further into the heart of Lannisport, the smells and sounds marinated and held more depth. “I anticipate that Ser Arthur will be besting my brother in the joust today.” She commented offhandedly, folding her arms at her stomach as she turned her neck to look upward to an inquisitive Tywin.

A curious hum bombinated from his lips. Squared shoulders pressed into his backrest, heightening his stance even in his seated position. One could find it intimidating, but she was more so amused by his always-perfect posture. Rather than move his head to show he was granting her his full attention, his pose remained solid, but this attention was there nonetheless. “Why is that? Prince Rhaegar has garnished a reputation when it comes to his performance in jousts.”

An ardent laugh brought his chin tucking downward. “He wins because people fear that knocking a prince from his horse will put an end to their family line.” She nudged her knees against his. “Also, I asked Ser Arthur to win.”

“Is there a reason?”

Sitting to her full height, which was still considerably shorter than the towering man before her, she flitted with the draping of her skirts. “Rhaegar was not exaggerating when he said that my journey was full of complaints.”

“You are a princess.” Tywin argued in his remarkably calm tone. “Traveling by horseback is hardly an appropriate means.”

“And how do you presume I’ll return to King’s Landing, my lord? Shall I walk so as to not dishonor myself by riding?”

“I’ll be returning to court at the conclusion of the tournament.” Using the muscles in his stomach, he pushed himself from the backrest to lean closer to the princess. “There is an abundance of space in the Lannister wheelhouse.”

Gasping dramatically, she placed a hand over the exposed skin of her chest. “What will my father think, Lord Tywin?” She shook her head. “He already believes me to be conspiring against him. Should I be seen in your private quarters, I think that he will think you are a conspirator, too.” Her coy demeanor evanesced as she spoke the words out. They struck her harder than she expected, falling from the cliff tops of her mind and tumbling downward like the disturbed snow of an avalanche. Where a soft smile had once been planted, a strange intensity grew. “My father thinks that I am conspiring against him.” She admitted with slumping shoulders. “You must be aware of that saying regarding the Targaryens. A coin is to choose our fates. Madness or greatness. We are only afforded the two, there is no gray water to wade in.”

“The saying is commonspeak tripe.” Tywin cut her thought from the root. “It was a coping mechanism created to explain the complicated to the simple.”

“Still.” Her fingers rubbed at the smooth fabric that laid upon her legs. “I have done nothing warranted of greatness in my time, nor am I set for it. Does that mean that I am destined for the opposite side of the coin?”

Soothing warmth covered her chilled hands. “There is no coin that can determine your future. You are young. You have many years to pursue greatness.” Slipping her hand into his, he covered it comfortingly with the other. “Let us not focus on that today. Today, we worry not what others think of us.” Trying to lighten her mood, he batted at the clouds that formed over her head. “Today, we will watch Ser Arthur best the prince.”

~~~*~~~

The marketplace was astir with the ingredients of a lively tourney on the way. Bakers rushed from their bakeries to line the streets with fresh goods situated on cooling racks. Jewelers set up lush and vibrant canopies to attract the eye to their precious gemstones. Smiths of all kinds beckoned upon their soapboxes, loudly proclaiming that any highborn lord who wields their weaponry will be granted great strength in their future endeavors. All swarmed like flies to the list where the tourney was to take place.

Rolling to a stop, the carriage holding Tywin and the princess opened with a small army of guards from the city watch squaring the two in.

“What are we doing in the market?” Her head could not move fast enough as she tried to view everything in a single second.

“The list is not far from here. As the princess of the Seven Kingdoms, I think it appropriate that you see firsthand what one of its great cities offers.”

Happy to take any opportunity to see more of Westeros, she nodded as they made their way away from the cart. Although, some would question his true intentions with walking the princess down the market street. Some wondered whether the two were betrothed, deciding against it when they could not recall any formal announcement. Others thought it to be a display of the power he held over the ruling family. The majority were just happy to see their ruling lord walking the streets.

As they strolled down the textured cobblestone walkway, smoothed from years of activity, a crowd gathered on the sidelines to throw praise to Lord Tywin. “Seven blessings, m’lord!” One yelled from a balcony above, gathering her child as she pointed him out. “May the gods smile upon you, Lord Tywin!” Another hollered, this time from behind a growing host of onlookers. As word spread of the princess walking amongst the people, many more flocked to the streets to see if she was truly the “hag” her reclusivity had named her.

The princess was awestruck by the love and adoration the city seemed to hold in their hearts for Tywin. He continually nodded and waved to varying members of their audience, each time earning more kind words from those compelled by other’s displays.

While the princess was concerned with the people, Tywin’s true focus was solely on her. She primarily led the group as her eyes guided her from one side of the street to the other. Warm breads filled with cinnamon and ground cloves nipped at her nose, followed by strong scents of freshly baked apples and lemon zest. Fennel and cardamom wafted from a nearby tavern’s opened window. Purchasing an apple crisp from a trusted merchant who often supplied gourmet goods to the Lannister’s household, Tywin handed it to the princess only after one of the guards tested it.

A particularly interesting merchant caught her eye, situated just past the baker. Tucked between his steaming racks and another table sat a young boy, no older than seven. With smudges of dirt covering his rounded reddened cheeks, he appeared far underfed and weary from crafting his wares. His shoes were thin, likely not protecting his feet from the ground given the blisters and calluses that coated the bottoms. Blonde hair had turned brown with oil and sweat. His eyes were downcast almost appearing as though he were asleep.

When the shadow of her figure covered his face, he sat up and brushed his hands down his face, dragging the dirt further across his skin. He had a torn yellowed blanket at his feet. Frayed edges held years of memories as it was more than likely his nursing blanket from when he was born. Tiny wooden statues that could fit in the palm of one’s hand were meticulously laid out, lined in rows of five with three rows total. Each was different from the other despite some being the same animals, but all were equally charming. “Did you make these?” She asked with the welcoming tilt of her curious head.

“Yes!...” He sucked his bottom lip between his large bucked teeth and took a deep breath to calm his heart as it beat from his chest. “Yes, m’lady.” He corrected.

The grooves and edges of one of the carvings bit into her skin, but she paid it no mind. A small lion with a crooked nose was the focus of her interest. Its mane was lopsided, heavy and bushy on the right side but practically nonexistent on the left. In no way was it intimidating like the beautifully crafted Lannister lions that decorated the Rock. Nonetheless, she found herself charmed by his efforts as he clearly put time into each. As she flipped the statue around in her hand, the merchant to his right nudged his shoulder with her sandal and whispered something in his ear. At her news, he straightened his back more and went wide-eyed. “Y-you can have it, princess (Y/n)... m’lady… your grace! If you want it. Free of charge for the princess, m’lady.”

“Nonsense.” Tywin interjected, regarding the young boy who immediately recognized him and grew another foot. “A man should never sell himself short.”

Looking to the merchant next to him seeking guidance, the boy found none. “I-”

“I believe this should cover the cost.” Holding a silver stag with the likeness of Aerys II pressed into its surface, Tywin extended his hand out to the child who took it and examined its edges with the surface of his thumb.

“Thank you, m’Lord!” He exclaimed, pocketing the coin in a concealed flap on the interior of his pants.

“Have you eaten yet today?” The princess rubbed her finger over the lion’s nose as the boy shook his head. Unintentionally, his eyes flitted to the still-steaming bun in her other hand. “Here.” She lowered it to where he could reach. “Freshly baked. Enjoy it while it’s warm.”

The boy looked again to the merchant who he seemed to know. She nodded her head forward and beckoned the boy to take the offering from the princess. Examining it, his mouth watered at the sickeningly sweet sugar that frosted the exterior of the golden pastry. Looking upward to the princess, a wide childish smile spread from one side of his face to the other and he lurched forward to wrap his arms securely around her waist. His cheek pressed into her side, leaving a reminder of his presence in the form of a small tan smudge in the red and white fabric.

Unknowing of the boy’s intentions, the guards of the city watch stiffened and began to grasp at the child’s clothing. Bubbly laughs stopped them along with the halting of her hand. Instead of ripping him from her side, she embraced the boy and ruffled her fingers through the top of his head, uncaring of the sleek oil left behind.

“Thank you, m’princess!” He stepped backward and stumbled as the excitement jolted through his system like lightning.

Bidding him farewell, she and Tywin continued on with their progression toward the list. As they got closer, the street became more densely packed and louder than it was before. Tywin’s hand found permanent residence on her shoulder, ensuring to him that she was always with him even when his head was focused elsewhere.

“I cannot believe this is only one part of the city.” The princess excitedly placed her hand against Tywin’s bicep, gripping slightly as she channeled the innocent naivete that had been trapped within her since birth. Beyond the castle’s walls was an entire world to experience, and she had barely scratched its surface.

“If you wish to venture through the entirety of Lannisport, I will personally see it so.” Tywin mirrored her elation in a more refined approach.

The wall of armored guards parted as a young man approached. “Lord Tywin.” He called as he stopped with a jump in his step. “Princess.” From his attire, she could conclude that he was a squire. Young in age and unarmed, he was likely the child of a western lord. “The king has arrived. He waits in the viewing stands.”

Nearly the entire population of Lannisport that wasn’t taking advantage of heightened traffic were seated on platforms of sturdy wood or perched on any rooftop that would merit even the smallest glance at the action. Men and women, boys and girls, all flocked to the streets as the exhilaration invigorated the air. Young women swooned at the idea of catching a fleeting tick of the prince’s attention. Young men were dazed and could only hope to be like him.

The princess arrived with Lord Tywin, an unexpected move but one that was unavoidable as they had already been traveling together. Entering beneath a tented pitch of red velvet and golden tassels, he was announced loudly by the middle-aged bellman who rallied the joyous cries of his people for their lord. Tywin did not bask in the cheer like Aerys had when he entered previously. Instead he held his composure by nodding to a few, giving a curt wave, and then using his hand to sweep the attention back to the king. The princess sat nearest to the action, blocked from it by the waterfall blockade that protected the royalty and highborns within. She watched and listened in utter awe as the masses roared with intense acclaim for Tywin. Praises were sung on the highest of clouds as the moment seemed to slow. Women waved their scarves and men shouted loudly with boasts of their lord. Turning her attention from the field to her rear, she could see the clear upset on her father’s face.

They should cheer louder for me, Aerys thought selfishly as he gripped his fingers tightly against the wooden chair he slouched in. His focus flickered from the people to Tywin, then downward to where Cersei sat next to his daughter. Before he left King’s Landing he had been informed that she had left with Rhaegar, Ser Barristan, and Ser Arthur, but seeing her here with his own eyes made his blood boil over. She was to be kept within the Red Keep, sealed away from the public’s view, safe within its suffocating walls. Rhaella, his wife, was kept under lock and key. He wondered if she would have to meet the same fate. He forced a smile - one of the first fatherly actions he had made since returning from Duskendale. Returning the gesture, he noted the way she reclined into herself and tore her gaze from his to engage in conversation with Cersei. The two started laughing with Jeyne Farman at something Melara Hetherspoon had said before turning their attention to the entry of Prince Rhaegar.

The people’s welcome for the Lord of Casterly Rock was great, but far different from the welcome the crowned prince received as he rode onto the list adorned in full Targaryen armor. Black metal shone with the sunlight beating down upon his shoulders. Red accented steel whipped around the track as he prompted the crowd to continue with their cheers. Cersei grabbed at (Y/n)’s hand, holding it tightly as she watched adoringly. Exemplified screams came from each corner of Lannisport, all loudly rolling over the fields for miles around. It only got louder as he removed his pointed helmet and gave a haughty bow to his father who merely stared back with an emptied haze hovering over his head.

“You seem rather taken by my brother.” The princess lent over to whisper in the ear of Tywin’s daughter. Though she attempted to remain quiet, her words carried over the crowd to the ear of Melara who sat at Cersei’s other side. Dressed elegantly in a gown of muted yellow resembling that of aged gold, Melara was a thin young girl. She styled her hair simply on either side of her shoulders, allowing the cascading brunette locks to fall to her waist.

“He is quite handsome.” Melara earned herself a harsh glare from the side of Cersei’s eye. “He has not taken a wife yet, and…” she feigned shyness by the curtain of her lashes, “excuse my ignorance, but is it not tradition to marry siblings in the Targaryen house?”

She was bold, clearly bolder than Jeyne who shrunk into herself, and it could even be said that she was bolder than Cersei. “That is the tradition.” The princess folded her hands in her lap, covering the lion figurine, watching as Tygett Lannister came trotting out onto the list mounted on a pure white horse. “I do not know my father’s plans.”

Unbeknownst to her, Tygett was another potential suitor for the princess. In fact, Tygett and Gerion had both been considered at a time, but were dismissed as quickly as they were presented. The only one that the king had let weigh on the table was the proposition of Jaime Lannister, and eventually he too was denied. He rode out to the roar of the people.

“I think there are many men who vye for your hand in marriage, your grace.” Melara said loudly, catching Tywin’s ear. “You will be a beautiful bride.”

A breathy laughing exhale was pushed from the princess’s lungs as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear and relished in the newfound attention of a highborn lady. “You are most kind, lady Melara.”

At the sound of a horn, the riders were ready to start. Both men took a side of the list and prepared their lances beneath their arms. Each member of the audience lent forward in their seats as their steeds tore through the dirt with their furious hooves. In the matter of seconds, Rhaegar had defeated Tygett. Left with a broken lance and lowered enthusiasm for the sport, Tygett made his round, congratulated the prince, and left the list on horseback. Soonthereafter, he found himself joining the rest of the Lannister family beneath the covered tent.

Rhaegar defeated many others that day. Westerland knights fell in various fashions, some breaking lances and others simply being thrust from their saddles. Gerion followed in his younger brother’s footsteps after his match, sitting in the stands nearest to Tywin. Ser Barristan had the princess smiling as he made his round, throwing a wave high in the air. Though his spirits were high, his chances of winning when Rhaegar was on a roll were not. He, too, fell to the crowned prince.

It wasn’t until Ser Arthur rode out onto the list that Rhaegar’s streak was broken. Falling to Ser Arthur’s lance, Rhaegar found himself unhorsed and at a loss for the winning title he had been fighting for all day. The crowd cheered as Rhaegar stood and motioned to the winner, giving him an animated clap.

Excusing herself from Cersei and her friend’s company, the princess slipped from the tent before anyone else could notice. She had hoped to avoid her father’s audience, pleading and begging with the gods to allow her to slide by without notice. With a soft push of the curtain, she made her exit whilst her father engaged in conversation with Tywin.

Traipsing through the crowds of highborns, she traversed the mass audience of curious eyes. For most, this had been their first encounter with the princess. Many moved from her path, allowing her by. Others actively blocked her way, hoping to catch her for a conversation. Some were bold enough to propose betrothals with their sons, and others followed her as she went.

“Your grace!” One woman yelled from an unknown direction as the people grew dense. “Princess (Y/n)!” Another tried to get her attention. Bunching her skirts in her hands, she continued forward toward the tents where the knights had prepared earlier in the morning. “My lady!” A man, around her age, pushed through the crowd. Unruly hands pushed at her back as the composed lords lost their manners and began forcing their way through one another to get closer. Stumbling on the uneven surface, she would have lost her balance if not for the sturdy arms she fell upon.

The sunlight was eclipsed by a charming smile and soft eyes. “This is not how I envisioned our first meeting, your grace.” Copper hair hung to his shoulders and draped against the stiff shoulder pads of his gray tunic. “We have not been afforded an audience with one another.” Steadying her on her feet, he bowed deeply and took her hand gently in his. His lips pressed a chaste kiss to her flushing skin. “Addam Marbrand.”

“Of Ashemark.” She finished, retracting her hand politely and holding it in front of her body. “Tales of your gallantry are often told in Kings Landing.”

“I am honored to hear that my name has fallen on the ears of the most beautiful woman in the realm.” Blushing, the princess fidgeted with her fingers. Noticeably her figurine was missing. His kind eyes bore into her subdued features, taking in his first sight of the hidden princess. Upon catching her searching the ground, he followed suit, quickly finding the imperfect lion. “Charming.” He flipped it over in his hand before offering it back to her.

“A boy in the market was selling them.”

“And a supporter of the local economy, princess. The west is forever grateful.”

Flushing again, she timidly took the carving back. “Have you the chance to visit the capitol, Lord Addam?”

“I have,” he confirmed, finding his focus drawn to her rear where an approaching figure neared. “...many times. It seems that each visit I find myself leaving without having met you.” An airy chuckle outlined his next words. “I must say, I believe it was worth the wait. Your beauty is far beyond what my imagination could craft.”

Shyly looking elsewhere, she continued to grow redder by the second. “You flatter me. I-”

Feeling the presence of another, she turned her head to the side to find Tywin with his arms connected at the small of his back. “Princess.” His hand moved to press against her side. “Prince Rhaegar requests an audience in his tent.” Sliding from her waist to her shoulder, Tywin’s hand landed protectively over the loose-fitting fabric that covered her arm.

“I was on my way to see him when the crowd grew too dense.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Lord Addam saved me from a rather embarrassing fall to the dirt.”

Cutting back into the conversation, Addam spoke. “I would be most pleased to escort the princess, my lord.”

“That will not be necessary.” Tywin nonchalantly looked over his shoulder back toward the list. “Addam, your father was searching for you. You should see to it.”

Straightening his back, his shoulders set widely to display the strength in his upper body. “Of course.” Addam’s eyes met the princess’s. “I hope that we can meet again, my lady.” Then, without another word, he disappeared into the wall of people.

“What did Rhaegar want with me?” She wondered aloud as Tywin’s guiding hand maneuvered her through the maze of bumping shoulders.

Nearing the edge of the sea that seemed to swallow all those who entered, the faint whisper of green grass could be seen swimming amongst the pool of vibrant fabrics. Beyond that were stable boys guiding armored horses, waving flags atop high tents, and the low hum of conversations mixing into a concoction of a tourney’s delight.

Pacing their way toward Rhaegar’s quarters, she stalled as she considered Tywin’s silence as a very telling answer to her question. “Rhaegar did not summon me.” She concluded, finding a smug grin on her rose lips. “You simply did not enjoy watching me converse with Lord Marbrand.” Sliding past a group of competing knights, the two separated slightly.

“He is a fine young man.” Tywin defended. “Well respected in Ashemark and the west. He would make a fine suitor should your father deem him so.” Though the words fell from his lips, Tywin knew it not to be. Aerys already had plans in motion for his daughter.

“Fear not, my lord. Only one man has captured my eye.”

Fluttering playfully by, she attracted the focus of each man and boy. There was something intensely alluring about the Targaryens that no other house had. It was not in their Valyrian features. They shared the same colorless hair and lilac eyes with the Velaryons. The pull of their gravitational hold on others came from their resolve. Many Targaryen’s who achieved the famed “greatness” all shared traits that blended into a cocktail of pursuance in their climb for grandeur.

She, the princess, was a particularly notable royal. For she was more or less a blank slate. No glory came from tournaments like it did for Rhaegar. Madness nor prosperity had been bestowed upon her from her father. Her future was yet to be told, and something about that intrigued those who watched and waited to hear of what she planned to do with her canvas.

Tywin watched as she skirted past more men blissfully ignoring their gawking mouths and wandering eyes. Only when she disappeared through the drapes of Rhaegar’s tent did he adjust his shoulders back and return to his duties.

“Myles, a pleasure as always.” The princess walked through the curtained entrance of the tent where Rhaegar dressed. The room was spacious for its temporary structure; holding a stand for his armor, a desk with two tables, a chaise lounge covered in burgundy velvet, and a small closet for his normal attire.

Myles Mooton wandered about the room, focused on nothing in particular as he set about tidying and preparing Rhaegar’s clothing. As a younger man, he served as Rhaegar’s squire. Bold and brass, he had earned himself a positive place in the prince’s circle of friends. “Princess.” He regarded her with an over-the-top bow and sauntered out.

“The people really love you, brother.” Her skirts hooped as she swung around to face Rhaegar. Sitting on a padded bench, he forced his feet into his boots and tucked the excess cloth into the sides.“Is father as angered with my presence here as I assume him to be?”

His cotton undershirt matched the black tunic he often wore. “I avoided his eye.” Pressing his hands against his cheeks, he refocused himself. Fingers combed through his colorless hair, sweeping it backward to fall over his shoulders. Buttoning his dragon-embroidered outer coat, he patted the clasps and let out a sigh.

There was a clear tension in his build. Shoulders that often laid slack and relaxed were tight in an almost cringing fashion. A crinkle in his nose creased his skin like a page in a book. Something was on his mind, and it only weighed him down further with his sister standing in close proximity.

“We will talk later.”

Before she could say anything else, Rhaegar disappeared past the brush of the tapestry leaving nothing behind but the faint scent of sweat clinging to his armor.

~~~*~~~

“Lord Tyrion.”

Casterly Rock was a fairly difficult place to roam. Easily finding oneself at a crossroads with one direction leading upward and another to the sea, without a map the princess was lost. Ser Barristan had accompanied her, but found himself as lost as she as they humorously wandered aimlessly hoping to find a familiar area. Pushing past two great doors lined with jagged rock, they were surprised to have found a library.

Leather-bound books lined the walls. Some held notable titles easily recognizable to the princess and others were extremely foreign. Lit lanterns were ablaze, keeping the entirety of the room lit despite it having no exposed areas to the outside. Alone below a table sat the missing Lannister of whom she had not seen since her initial arrival at Casterly Rock: Tyrion Lannister.

Born five years after the twins, Tyrion’s entrance to the world was his mother’s exit. He was a notably lonely child, having spent much of his childhood thus far alone with no company from his immediate family. Aunts and uncles who ran Casterly Rock in Tywin’s absence did their best to entertain his whimsical thoughts and ideas, but nothing could fill the yearn for a comforting soul in his abysmal existence. Tales of Tyrion fastly spread upon his birth with some calling him a monster. Others feared that he was an omen of what was to come. Even the king disparaged the child by considering him to be a punishment for Tywin’s arrogance.

Though sitting on the floor surrounded by books and a burning candle, Tyrion looked no different than any other child.

“Princess.” Tyrion made to stand, but resituated himself as soon as she held a halting hand out to him.

“There is no need to rise.” The bounding skirts of her dress pooled around her as she lowered herself onto the frigid stone floor. “I am the one disturbing you, afterall.” Thumbing across his mountain of literature, she found many pertaining to Targaryens, and more concerning dragons. “Black Wings, Swift Words.” She tilted her head to read its title. “I quite like this one. Interesting notion, wasn’t it? Replacing ravens with doves. The skies would surely be more beautiful, but how would we be notified that winter is coming?” Leaning her elbows against her knees, she hovered just below the table’s top. “Maester Pycelle always made sure to show me the white raven sent from the Citadel to declare summer’s end. Do you enjoy reading?”

Tyrion was ambivalent about answering the princess. He had seen her with his father and his sister on multiple occasions in her short time visiting, but his thirst for knowledge and interest in the Targaryen’s eventually outweighed any skepticism. “I’m reading this one now.” Pushing the opened book toward the princess, he sat higher as she looked over the writing.

“The Rogue Prince. He lived quite the life, a true warrior of his time.”

“He wielded Dark Sister.” Tyrion adjusted the edges of the book to face him once more. “His dragon, Caraxes, was red.” His eyes twinkled with delight as he displayed his knowledge. “I’m not far yet, only to his second marriage. He lived in Pentos with Laena Velaryon and Vhagar.”

“That is very true.” She was gladdened by his enthusiasm. “You know so much about the Targaryens, I think you should have taught me lessons instead of my septa.”

“I want to write a book someday.” The remnants of a smile formed at his lips. “About the Targaryens… an entire history from Valyria to now.”

“I would love to read it… a great mind such as yours should not go to waste.” She pushed her hands against the floor to push herself to her knees. “I will be the first to request a copy in King’s Landing when it is completed.”

She and Ser Barristan continued to wander the halls, blissfully lost as they experienced Casterly Rock as it should be. Initially he had questioned why she didn’t ask Tyrion’s help, but as they turned corners and the twinkle in her eye burned brightly he understood.

Freedom was fleeting as her return to King’s Landing fastly approached.

She was simply enjoying herself.

Writers note: Happy New Year 🎆

Tag list:

@issybee0611 @yellowbadgermole @ladysindar @usernameosv @thanyatargaryen @kishie8

#tywin lannister x reader #tywin x reader #tywin lannister #got x reader #game of thrones fanfic

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saikokirakira · 10 months

Text

All the Wrong Right Reasons (Jake Lockley x Bakunawa!Reader pt.3)

a/n: we are entering spicy territory. nothing explicit unless you want me to? but we got maybe one more for jake's intro series...

next up is a layla fic. can i get a wahoo?

Prev: IV. Jake pt.2 | Next: IV. Jake pt.4 | AU Masterlist

warnings: jake “the simp king” lockley origin story; khonshu is a little shit; one-way intense turned thirsty pining; show’s interpretation of DID; non-hispanic writer using one (1) spanish word (in my not-so defense, im filipino (i remembered we have a celebrity kristine hermosa with that name. imagine having 'beautiful' for a name and looking EXACTLY ETHEREAL) okay i'll stop rambling); non-canon Philippine mythology

Maybe Jake’s reaction was a little unprecedented.

He never had to front unless the system was in mortal danger or if Khonshu needed him for a mission.

All he’s known was being on a constant state of fight or flight with adrenaline in his veins.

So, what happens when the person he’s been incredibly attracted to threatens his life?

He wants to fight back for all the wrong right reasons.

Have you met my friend, Jake Lockley?

As much as Jake was thankful for the moon god intervening, the bird was having the time of his life not allowing him to summon the suit as well.

Let him go. Khonshu’s playing with you.

A dark masked figure materialized behind you. A dark shadowy void with glowing violet eyes.

Probably made new friends the last time you died, Jake thought.

Glaring at Jake with your glowing golden eyes, you let him go and stepped back.

“Khonshu, you lied,” you spat out. “You were supposed to let him go.”

“Marc only meant Steven and himself, hermosa,” Jake finally spoke once he got to catch his breath. “I had no plans of leaving. I’m the real Moon Knight.”

Your golden eyes found him again, and Jake found some sort of satisfaction of you looking down at him… even with disdain.

Or any attention finally directed at him… not at any of his alters.

“What do you want from me?”

Jake resisted the urge to smirk.

There were many, many things he wanted from you.

“I want to finish the job.”

Arthur Harrow, the shadow said.

Then it clicked. “You were in Cairo.” You weren’t asking. You said it as a fact.

You never knew what happened after Ammit was sealed in her Avatar’s body, but you knew for a fact that that psychotic maniac was still breathing somewhere.

Steven didn’t have the stomach to kill anymore, and Marc…

Either his mind would be changed by Steven or not kill Harrow at all to spite Khonshu.

“I suppose you were the one who ran off and went on a killing spree when Marc blacked out?”

Jake nodded; his eyes guarded.

“You were protecting them.”

He nodded again.

“Do they know you exist?”

“No.”

“If you stay with me or with Khonshu, they’ll find out soon enough.”

“That’s why I want to get to Harrow before that, hermosa.”

You raised your brow at the second time he called you that. “Charmer,” you smiled playfully.

Finally relaxing and letting your guard down around the new alter, your eyes glowed again.

“Give me one hour.”

…

You were starting to regret not taking the passenger seat.

Yet you also needed a breather from Jake.

You were trying to tell yourself it was because you missed Steven so much…

… but Jake was waking up something else inside you.

It scared you. Scared that you might give into him.

You couldn’t do that to Steven.

“Why would I ever need anybody else when he has no idea how troubled he truly is?”

You hated to admit it, but you sided with Harrow for a split-second while Khonshu gloated on keeping Marc as his Avatar.

“And you’re okay with that, langga?”

You hissed at the name, but you tried not to get too riled up.

“You don’t want those to be your last words, you piece of shit.”

It’ll all be over soon.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter what I think. Marc and Steven don’t know.”

Arthur’s face twisted in confusion.

“Meet my friend, Jake Lockley.”

You barely flinched when you felt the bullet whiz past you and straight into Harrow’s head after Jake said his final words to the cultist.

Harrow slumped forward and fell to the floor where he slowly bled out.

It was over.

You hoisted yourself through the limousine partition window and sat on the passenger seat, not wanting to spend the rest of the ride with a dead body.

Jake narrowed his eyes when your shoes touched the leather seat.

“Really? You’re complaining over my shoes when Harrow is bleeding on your floor mats?”

Jake ignored you and didn’t waste any time and began driving away from the hospital.

Despite being ignored, your eyes continued to watch him, studying what made him so different from the rest.

Jake seemed to be more comfortable with Khonshu’s idea of vengeance, and it made you wonder if he was created because of Khonshu or because of something else.

Either way, the rush of a thousand innocent lives being avenged felt good.

And you had Jake to thank for that.

Now, you really felt that Egypt was a closed chapter…

“I can hear you thinking loudly over there, hermosa.”

His gloved hand reached out and gave your thigh a comforting squeeze.

“Want me to take your mind off things?”

… well, somewhat closed.

#jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #bakunawa!reader #bakunawa au #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader

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starsaroundmyscarsblog · 1 year

Text

Costume Party

Steven x Reader

Summary: You and Steven go to a party held by one of your friends as Milo and Kida.

Warnings: none. Pure Fluff.

When Gwen had called you last week, asking you to come to come to a costume party, you were going to say no. Parties weren't really your thing, let alone costume parties.

You tried to remember the last time you had dressed up at all, and that had been world book say when you were 10 years old. Not that you thought there was anything wrong with cosplaying as an adult, you just never had any reason to do it.

"Come on Y/N please. You can bring Steven with you. It's a couples thing. Well. Kinda. Well, not really. You can come alone, but I'm telling everyone who's not single to have their outfit match their partners. I'll even help you make your costume."

You sighed, looking over at Steven who was hunched over his desk. You weren't sure how he would react, if he'd ever even been to a party before.

"OK. But I'm only going if he goes."

"Yes!" Gwen cried " thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll text you the details, it's happening at Arthur's house. Arthur was your Gwen's boyfriend. You'd met him on occasion, and he seemed alright. She certainly seemed happy, at least.

"Wait. Who are you and him going as?"

"Well, it's kinda cliché but Robin Hood and Maid Marian."

"Not cliché. Cute.:

"Yeah, it was his idea, actually. Most people would expect him to go as King Arthur cause his name's Arthur, but he wanted to surprise people, and we couldn't think of anything else, lol."

After you finished talking to Gwen, you placed your phone down on the table and headed over to Steven, who sat hunched over on his desk, carefully highlighting pages of his books. He was currently in the first year of his PhD, while working another job at another museum, so he was a little busy. Often, you guys didn't see each other till late at night when he curled up beside you in bed, and you snuggled into his warm body

As if he could sense your prescence he looked up with a smile

"Hello love."

You felt your heart lift at his warmness, stepping forward, and Steven instinctively pulled you in, wrapping an arm around your waist, his head resting on your abdomen, and you played with his curls.

"What's up?"

"Nothing just....Gwen invited us to a party."

"Hmm." He mused, trying to remember her. "Work friend, black hair-

"In a bob, yeah."

"Mm." Steven replied, using his thumb to stroke your hip, and you blushed.

"I said I'd ask you first. You wanna go? I know how sometimes these things can be overwhelming for you, so it's up to you. We don't have to. I won't be disappointed or anything if you don't in fact we can-

"I'd love to go with you, Y/N." Steven almost blurted out. He knew sometimes his eagerness could be a little off-putting, especially when he was talking about Egypt, something he loved wholeheartedly. "That is, only if you want to, love." He looked up at you, a warm smile on yourface

"I'd love to go, only with you." You kissed his head of curls and Steven could feel the warmth spreading throughout his body, "Only thing is though, its a costume party."

Steven paused for a moment as you sat down on the desk

"Who would we go as?" He asked, now holding your hand.

"I don't know..."

"Maybe those geologists or whatever from Jurassic Park."

"Ellie Sattler and Alan Grant? Nah, someone else's taken them. So far, I think there are The flintstones, simpsons, pirates of the carribean couple, oh, and Mario and Princess Peach.

"Wow."

"Yeah just a bit of fun to be honest."

"Whose Gwen and Sam going as?"

"Maid Marian and Robin Hood."

Steven paused before spotting your dvd on the table in front of the TV.

"What about them?"

You picked up your old copy of Atlantis you had gotten as a child, going to sit back on his desk.

"Milo and Kida? You think I could pull her off?"

"I think you'd look ho-

Steven laughed as you raised an eyebrow. The blush was spreading on his face and it was hard not to smirk

"You look...amazing...in anything...Y/N." He turned back to his work, clearing his throat."When's the Party?"

"This coming Friday. Are you sure you can make it? You can spare some time? I can go alone if you can't, or just cancel."

Steven stood up, stretching and giving your forehead a kiss

"Wouldn't dream of missing it. And there's always time for you." He kissed your forehead again.

Now it was Thursday night, and you sat on the floor in Gwen's room, a mannequin out in front of you, and carefully cut fabric on the floor. You had requested the skirt to be floor length, only cause it got bloody cold and it was still winter. You'd gotten golden earrings, an amulet necklace, and an arm band, along with a white wig. Kida walked barefoot, but in London, that wasn't exactly advised, so you got some gold sandals. Lying there, the fabric looked so beautiful.

You were worried you were going to ruin it just by wearing it. Body image had never been something you had the best relationship with, and so coming to this place was way out of your comfort zone. Especially weemaring an outfit like Kida's.

Gwen had just measured you and cut the material, and now you were just sitting on the living room floor, watching a movie, eating popcorn and talking about work and other things. It was about 9 o'clock when you finally finished the outfit (you had lost a lot of time movie watching) and she made you try it on, wig and all.

Before you stepped out of the bathroom, you were coming up with excuses in your head, so you didn't have to show her. The dress didn't fit right, the wig was a little stuffy. To be honest, you thought you would look terrible, that's why you didn't look at yourself before you stepped out.

Gwen wolf-whistled when you came out

"Shit, Y/N you look hot. I wish I was Steven."

You blushed, "shut up."

"No but seriously, you do look really hot. Spin around for me."

You did so

"And the dress fits perfect. Eat shit Mrs Zimmer."

"Whose Mrs Zimmer?"

"My design and textiles teacher who used to tell me I was crap at this sort of stuff. Heck, Y/N you look damn good. I really should have pursued a career in fashion."

After you got changed back into your regular clothes, I was a little more confident for when Steven would see you tomorrow. Marc was fronting when you got back into the shared flat.

"Hey baby."

"Hey Marc."

"Is that your costume?" You blushed. You had tried to cover it up in your bag, still a little unsure of whether they would like it on you, but your bag was still open from when you gotten your keys.

"Yeah." You said hurrying towards your wardrobe

"Can I see it?" You shoved it inside.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Cause," you blushed, a grin on your face. "You'll see it tomorrow."

You stuffed it in the back of your wardrobe. When the morning came, you said goodbye to Steven and headed over to work. Gwen seemed very excited, and everyone at work wished he happy birthday, but your heart pounded in your throat all day. Even though you tried to act like you were happy for her. And you were. But you were also nervous. What if Steven and the boys hated it?

You pushed the thought away as you entered your flat, holding a bag of cans of fizzy drinks/soda. Steven came and met you at the door, already in full Milo cute. If it was possible, he looked even more cute and handsome (at the same time).

You grinned at him as he kissed your cheek and took the drinks you'd bought on Gwen's request.

"You look really, handsome Stevie."

"Thanks." He rubbed his arm a little. "I got this stuff thrifted, and I already had a ton of old looking notebooks, though." He explained before casting a grin."Where's your?"

"Oh uh, in the cupboard. I think I'll change later though." You smiled, trying to stall as much as possible "right before we leave."'

He nodded, and you felt the room was suddenly too hot even though it was the middle of winter. You opened a couple of windows, trying to calm yourself and dreading for whem he and the others would see you.

So, that's how you ended up hiding out in the bathroom before you were due to leave. You were in full Kida mode, and the skirt still hugged you the way it did before, but you still didn't know. Surmounting all your strength you finally looked up. Everything looked wrong on you, so wrong you wanted the ground to swallow you hope. You were gearing up to tell Steven you didn't want to go anymore when you heard a knock on the door

"Love," he said, opening the door "just letting you know that-

"don't open it!" You jumped but it was too late. He had already seen you. You wanted to run into bed and huddle up in the covers.

Steven stood their breathless, mesmerised. The blue was great against your skin tone, the dress long and flowing. Your eyes sparkled, glowing almost, the dress hugging your figure perfectly. Steven could've sworn that moment he first saw you lasted forever. He spent forever getting lost in your waters before submerging again

"Steven?" He blinked as you rubbed your arm sheepishly. Your call had brought him back to reality.

"Oh yeah." He shook his head and stepped forward, laying both of his hands over your arms. "Y/N. You look beautiful. Really. You do."

He lifted your chin up and kissed you deeply.

"Bloody Brilliant babes. " He winked at the end, and you could feel your insides melt.

The headspace certainly thought that too.

Jake wolf-whistled, 'Mierda, debería vestirse así más a menudo'

'Damn. You're one lucky guy, Steven. Wish I was fronting tonight.' Marc added

When you finally had gotten there, the music was already pumping. Steven held your hand tight as you walked up to Gwen's front door and rang it. As if she was waiting there, Gwen answered the door immediately, excited and slightly tipsy

"Hey, hey Steven. Hey Y/N! You brought the drinks!"

Arthur came over to say hi as well, shaking Steven's hand and giving you a hug. You gave one to Gwen as well, and she took the drinks from you before ushering you inside with a wave of her hand.

"Drinks are on that table, food and shit on the other. Dump your stuff in my room," She handed a key "remember to lock it. Don't want any strays in there."

You hadn't brought much, expect a few essential items in your brought handbag. Steven came with you upstairs to make sure the door was locked (he said it was Marc's paranoia) but once you were done, he pulled you in by the waist, before moving the locks out of your face, and kissing you softly, then harder, and you did too. Even though you had spent the evening with him, every time you kissed it, it felt like you hadn't seen him in ages. Like you needed him.

You finally pulled away, when you felt like you were losing your breath, staring into Steven's eyes.

"I have to go to the bathroom." You pecked him on the cheeks."See you downstairs."

He nodded

"I'll get you a drink."

You headed over to bathroom, freshened up and then went back downstairs, looking for him. More people had arrived, and it was hard to see him over the masses. The music was pumping, and people were either dancing or huddled together talking. You decided to brave the crowd and go looking for Steven on foot, but before you could make it across the room, Gwen called your name.

"Oh Y/N! This is ny cousin Sam. Came as King Arthur. See if you can find him a woman to talk too. Bye!"

She waved goodbye and disappeared into the crowd again so quickly you had wondered whether she had ever been there

Sam laughed a little awkwardly

"I have to apologise for my cousin's behaviour. I went through a rough breakup a couple months ago and she's been trying to set me up ever since."

You smiled. "It's ok. Gwen likes to play matchmaker. She's still convinced she introduced me to my boyfriend, yet I'd met him before."

You hadn't told Gwen about the DID. You'd met Marc first, then Steven, and then finally Jake. It'd been a long time coming getting Marc to open up about his DID, and you didn't feel like it was your place to tell people without his or the other altars permission.

Sam rolled his eyes, releasing a pent up laug

"Yeah that sounds like her. She's trying to set me up. Said she invited a lot of sexy women for me to pick from."

You laughed

"OK she is definitely drunk."

"Very." Sam laughed, and your eyes scanned over his costume

"You're Arthur."

"What? Sorry."

"Arthur. You're King Arthur."

He blinked as his expression changed from confused to realising.

"Oh shit. Oh yeah." He laughed again

"You're just missing a Guinevere."

Sam smiled, before looking back at you.

"Honestly, I was hoping to find her tonight."

You moved to say something "Well maybe I can help, I've got a-

"Wait. Hold on. Sorry." He leaned closer to you."It's just, I wanna give you my full attention, and I can't see you properly if it's like this."

He moved a strand of white hair away from your cheek.

"There."

You stepped back a little, a blush rising in your cheeks, surprised and nervous at how forward his action was. A part of you sighed in relief once you had spotted Steven walking towards you.

Steven had been watching the whole exchange, drinking from a bottle of beer. He didn't even like beer. That was more of Marc's thing, but he kept drinking it either way. It wasn't that he didn't trust you was that he didn't trust the guy right next to you.

'Whose that guy?' Marc asked

'I don't know Marc. Friend of Gwen's maybe. She seems to know him.'

'Well, he's getting a little close.'

'De acuerdo. Si él la toca solo sabe, voy a patearle el trasero.'

'Jake, they're hardly kissing.' Steven chuckled, though his own insecurity was running high. He took another swig of beer. 'Besides, Y/N's not like that. She wouldn't cheat.'

'We know that, but it's not like this guy wouldn't try something.'

Steven didn't reply, instead choosing to watch, a little riled up.

He watched at how Sam seemed to make you laugh with every word that came out of your mouth and the bright smile that seemed to grace your features when you were talking to him. He even watched as Sam moved a piece of hair away from your face, something only he and the boys did.

Jake swore very loudly.

'El cabrón. Te dije que este tipo era un problema'

'Go get him, Steven.' Marc said, though the former had already started walking towards you.

You noticed Steven coming up to you and smiled at him, though he didn't see it, instead slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. You blushed.

"This is my boyfriend Steven." He shook Sam's hand a little too tightly before placing his back on your waist. A silent reminder that you belonged to someone else

"Sam, yeah? He took a swig of his beer. "So what'd you do for a living? Make a lot of money."

"Steven." You raised your eyebrows a little, and Steven took another gulp of his drink

"What?"

Sam laughed "No it's alright. In just a software engineer. I make money to live on, but not as much as I'd like, you know?"

You nodded eagerly, and Steven wondered if you cared more about what Sam said than he did. You never seemed this eager whenever he told you about his interests. He wondered if he had been this blind all along. Of course you didn't care Egypt, people never cared about what he was into.

"Well, I better go find Gwen. See you around Y/N. Steven." Sam waved himself off.

'Good job Steven you scared him off.'

'Sí, nadie se lleva a nuestra chica.'

You turned towards him and smiled, though he looked away. Even though you hadn't done anything wrong, his actions made you feel a little guilty.

"Steven? Steven?"

"I just remembered, I've got some coursework to do. I'll see you at home, Y/N." He started moving to the front door.

"Wait, Steven. What's going on? I thought you were having a good time."

"Well, I'm not anymore."

"What? Why?"

He sighed, turning back around to face you.

"Y/N, come on, don't play dumb with me. He was flirting with you." He paused. "And you didn't exactly seem like you hated it."

"What? Steven, come on. Why would I enjoy him flirting with me?

"I don't know, you tell me." Those words stung a little, and you could feel yourself getting more pissed off. "You were the one flirting back."

"Flirting back? What do you mean flirting back?!"

"You were laughing, and whispering to him. I saw you. Then you let him touch you."

"I didn't let him do anything. I was about to tell him I had a boyfriend again, then you came up.

"Were you really? Looked like you were gonna exchange numbers to me."

"Steven." You stepped in closer to him, the strong scent of beer hitting your nostrils. "Baby, are you drunk? I promise you it wasn't like that. Don't you trust me?" You reached for him, and he pushed you hand away.

"No." He answered a little too quickly. "How can I trust a flirt?"

He turned back around to see your eyes brimming with tears, and reality suddenly hit him again.

"Oh shit, Y/N. Love, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-

You turned from him, and ran upstairs. There were people going into the room to dump their stuff so you took that as an opportunity to grab yours.

You walked past Steven.

"Y/N. Love, wait. You're right. I am drunk."

"Walk yourself home tonight, Grant."

'Nice going, Steven.'

He followed you out to the car.

"Y/N. Love. Wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it-

"Then why did you say it, Steven?!" You were still angry, but he could see the tears rolling down your cheeks "I love you all more than anything. Why would you say something like that?"

"I just didn't like it when..." he trails off at the end "When he touched you. It was our thing. And, you seemed so much more happy with him then you ever did with me. I was a little jealous I guess."

"A little?" You chuckled, wiping your eyes, and he knew he could approach you again. He wrapped his arms around you, slowly stroking your back, calming you down.

"Steven." You whispered once you had calmed down. He looked down below at you. "You make me happy. You, Marc, and Jake. More than anyone in the world. I know you think you're so flawed. But to me, you're all perfect. All of you."

You nuzzled his nose, leaning him

"I wouldn't trade a million you guys for one Sam."

"Technically it would be 3 million."

You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning into him

"Love you, Y/N." He replied, kissing your head

"Love you too, Stevie. And you Marc. And you, Jake."

"Can we go home?"

"Yeah, baby. We can go home."

#jake lockley #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #jake lockely x reader #moon boys #moon knight fic #moon knight system

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