#would never let something as silly as a stoning

[miss-celestia13]

An Arsonist’s Anguish

Richy’s Lament - A Duskwood One Shot

A dark, angsty exploration into Richy’s character as he sets the stage for his death. There is no happy ending. Just some hope that another soul made it out of the mine as it burns. Crossposted posted on Ao3.

Trigger Warnings are below the line. Please check them.

TW: Suicide, Self Hatred, Hallucinations, and thoughts/descriptions of Death. Read at your own risk. I tried not to be too graphic, but you will know what’s happening.

Richy would never see the sun rise again.

The ghosts of all the beautiful things he killed to protect his secrets haunted his dragging, stumbling steps as he traversed the mine and ignored the cameras he installed. Gasoline poured and splashed from the canister he held as he wove through tunnels and gritted his teeth against the pain in his arm.

It was nothing compared to the emotional torture he felt inside. His thoughts were a tempest raging with the violence of a cyclone. Every destructive gust ripped through the fragile edifices of his grip on reality.

Within the labyrinth of his mind, self-loathing chewed on his soul like a pack of feral beasts tearing at the tender flesh of their fallen prey. Each bite drew forth burgundy rivers of desolation, self-condemnation, and unyielding fury. Blending with the physical aches until he couldn’t tell them apart

His arm throbbed as he ignored the yelling in his mind. Fucking Dan. Dan, who gave him a gun?! Oh, what an idiot! He scuppered all Richy’s plans and left him scrambling to end it before anyone else got hurt. Ensure nothing remains but ash.

Rivers of cold sweat streamed down his grey face as he held his injured arm over his stomach so he wouldn’t bang it into the rough wall. He wanted to punch the stone to take his mind off it. The bottle of pain meds he stole from his mother rattled in his pocket, but he couldn’t risk taking them yet.

His breathing roasted his throat, but his entire body shivered as though an icy glacier engulfed him. The persistent tremble in his body intensified with every labored step.

The combined weight of his physical and emotional agony was an anchor on his back, dragging his broken spirit beneath tumultuous waves, where the agony of drowning and being hammered from all sides echoed through the depths of himself.

It didn’t feel like any of it was unfair. The thirst was the worst thing. He kept smacking his lips together, attempting to inspire some moisture, but his tongue remained bone dry and coated in the remnants of bitter blood rust.

The blood he’d lost stained his skin and the stone as it dripped through the filthy dressing he tried and failed to use as a tourniquet. Everything felt like it happened to someone else. Something otherworldly piloted his body from the inside.

Like some demon possessed him, guiding him down depraved, treacherous paths, and the priest hadn’t arrived in time to exorcise him.

And he’d done it to himself. Every choice he’d made since kidnapping Hannah, it had felt like suicide in slow motion.

He marooned himself on an island surrounded by vipers of his own creation.

Now, the only option to set himself free was fire. It would hurt, he thought, and his stomach wrenched to the side, almost splitting in two as he dreaded it so strongly.

And death. There was a liberating freedom in death. A broken sob tore through his clenched teeth as he thought of Jessy, the emotions he harbored for her, and everything he had never deserved to have with her.

She was a shot of adrenaline after years of lethargy.

So many of his favorite memories revolved around her and their silly inside jokes. He’d used his closeness to her to torment and stalk her. Terrorized her and her friends. She would never forgive him. Her smiling face, her flaming hair, and desire for a life of adventure had made his miserable existence worth living.

She would forget him one day, but never forgive him. He was a coward. An idiot. He’d let them all believe a masked myth was chasing them.

The only masked freak after them was their own friend.

His megawatt smile, stupid jokes, and constant upbeat attitude despite the shitstorm life rained on him had been the heaviest disguise of his brief life. They’d all bought it.

Hook, line, and fucking sinker. None thought to check beneath that smile. Now, it had twisted and transformed into a permanent snarl. If they paid attention, they would have found the rot and ruin underneath his cheerful demeanor. None of his friends had stopped to think about just how stressed he was. How much he had to carry for his family and Hannah—screw her. She was party to his worst decision.

She caused it.

Her wanting to sacrifice herself, him, and Amy to clear her conscience, betrayal. Betrayal was a dagger Hannah concealed in a cloak of mutual trust and unspoken promises to take their secrets to the grave. That blade had appeared suddenly and without warning, piercing the walls of his shriveled heart.

Half of him wished he’d killed her while he’d had her under his control. End the threat, leave her body to decompose in the mine.

No one came here. He’d made sure of it. Everything might—well, it was too late now. She was safe in the hands of Alan Bloomgate. Hannah, perfect, beautiful fucking Hannah.

He hated her. He blamed Hannah. But it was Amy who he blamed the most. Richy blamed everyone but himself for too long. He knew that. And now he would pay the price for it.

He’d already staged his death. Now he just had to commit.

The cloying scent of gasoline infiltrated his nose, thickening in his raw throat, and the empty metal cannister fell from his weak fingers. The thunderous clanging as it bounced and came to a stop worsened the headache he’d had for the last few weeks.

It pounded in time with his thudding heart. Each pulse pushed yet more blood out of the wound in his heavy, aching arm. It tingled and sparked with fiery pain with every paranoid twitch as he glanced behind him, sure he heard footsteps chasing him down.

He gave himself a shake when only his shadow approached. It looked much bigger to him now. Sinister and spreading to encompass the entirety of him.

It had taken him over long ago, and at last, he accepted it. It was too late to beat it back. He’d embraced it. Its hug was gelid and dragged him down, down, down. The shadow had always been in him; his choices had brought it to life, and it was time to eliminate it so it wouldn’t harm anyone else.

If his last victim was to be himself, it would end on his terms.

His last words had been a confession and an apology. To Jessy, and his friends, to the unwitting stranger he’d dragged into this mess, and to himself. His conscience was far from clear, and his reckoning awaited him amongst the flames he would soon ignite.

The cave in which he’d chosen as his tomb would remain safe from the flames, but the poison smoke would choke him. An intangible noose, as he couldn’t bring himself to tie a rope. He shuffled inside and loosed a long breath that felt more like a death rattle.

His stinging eyes couldn’t penetrate the blackness encroaching him on all sides as he reached into his jacket pocket with his good hand, and pulled out the zippo lighter he’d stuffed inside days before. He’d always suspected.

Deep inside, Richy had expected that this was how it ended. The cold silver metal warmed a little in his clammy hand as his thumb stroked over the Garage’s logo and wished he had said goodbye to his parents before he gave himself to the fire.

It was best they learned with the world. His suicide letter would speak for him and he prayed it would ensure his family didn’t suffer for his actions.

Naïveté had always been his downfall.

Before he set his ultimate act into motion, Richy took his phone out of his jean pocket and flicked the flashlight on. The bright beam of white light assaulted his eyes and created a flurry of moving shadows. The skittering of tiny claws on loose stone racing away from him painted a cruel smirk on his mouth as he cast the light around the small cavern and found what he was looking for.

A grubby black backpack sat against the grey rock wall, covered in dirt, blood, and guilt as he scuttled over to it. He unzipped it and pulled out the almost empty bottle of water he’d been rationing for days.

After fishing the bottle of medication out of his pocket, he struggled to open them both, and cried out as his jerky movements irritated his wounded arm. It took five very long minutes to get the pills out. The light from his phone shuddered as he set it down to count the pills.

He’d chosen the strongest ones his mother had. One knocked her out for half a day, and he wanted to numb himself as much as he could before the smoke smothered or flames devoured him. They were heavy on his tongue as he tossed back a fistful of the chalky tablets and chased them down with the last of his precious water.

For a moment, they got lodged in his throat, his mouth flooded with saliva and his eyes prickled with fresh tears.

He couldn’t even kill himself right. Everything he did just failed in spectacular fashion.

He was a monster of his own making, and only he could slay it. He swallowed, compulsive and dry, ignoring the hot flashes creeping up his neck as the painkillers scraped down his throat and into his hollow stomach.

Richy dropped to his knees and crawled over to the wall, and slumped back onto it. Paper crinkled in his inside coat pocket as he shifted to get comfortable. He had about an hour before the full effects of the medication set in. He would light the fire once the gnawing, eroding ache in his chest and arm dulled.

Until then, he sat with his thoughts, his splintering sanity, and cursed himself. Cursed Duskwood and the predator the town had forced him to transfigure himself into.

The weight of hopelessness hung around Richy’s neck like a noose pulled tight, squeezing the light of life from his eyes.

It was a suffocating darkness that swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but the biting tang of despair on his tongue. Each breath felt like inhaling shards of broken glass, cutting deeper with every huffing exhale.

The silence that echoed in his soul was a relentless scream, a haunting, deafening reminder of the emptiness that consumed him.

“I should’ve told someone,” Richy said in a whisper.

The words bounced softly off the rock, a harmony of regret.

He twitched as it fell silent, mouth furling and eyes glazing over as he listened to the racket in his head.

All you had to do was hand yourself in. You could have avoided all of this.

What do you think will happen to your family? They’ll live happily ever after in the town you terrorized?

Do you honestly think your pathetic letter will save them?

The slippery voice of his own darkness broke into a baleful laugh. It made the hair in his nape rise and stand stiff. He shuddered, thrashing his head and gritting his teeth until they squeaked.

“I tried. I always tried. But I’m a failure. I’ve always been a failure. I can make it right. It’s the only way.” He muttered as the disembodied voice agreed.

Make it right? Ha! You think you can wash away the stain of your idiocy?

You’re tainted.

Forever marked by your wrong choices, Richy.

Redemption? You make me laugh.

Redemption is a fairytale, a delusion you’re desperately clinging to.

It is so far beyond your reach…

Richy’s voice was a growl as he said, “No, redemption isn’t my goal. I can’t undo the damage I’ve caused, but I can end it before anyone else gets hurt. I can make sure the world knows it was me.”

The derisive laughter of his demons chafed at his skull as if their talons were scratching their unspeakable names into the bone.

You’re a lost cause. A testament to all your failures.

Each step you take is a step closer to the abyss of self condemnation.

There’s no way out.

Your sacrifice won’t save your soul.

“I accept that!” Richy roared, spittle flying from his chapped lips as he panted like a wounded beast.

“My death might be the only way to atone for all I’ve done. I don’t care what comes after that. But my family won’t suffer because of me. Not any more.”

The voice in his head made a sound of agreement before it crooned his worst fears.

Yes, your death is the ultimate penance.

Your final act of contrition for the havoc you’ve so selfishly wrought.

Then again, have you considered the aftermath?

Your family will endure your actions. Long after you’re gone. Their suffering will echo until they, too, shuffle off the mortal coil.

Searing fiery agony ripped through Richy’s heart. It felt as though someone had taken a knife, heated it up over a fire until it glowed red hot, and then plunged it into his chest. The scent of burned flesh and molten iron filled his nose. The sensation felt so real to him.

His hand clawed at his jacket over his pounding heart, as if to pull the blade free, but his fingers met only dirty fabric.

“They won’t! They won’t! They won’t! I’ve made sure of it. This isn’t their burden to bear!” He yelled, voice laced with an anguish that made his body convulse as rivulets of salt descended his bared teeth.

Helplessness stole over him as his demons taunted and chuckled in a scornful manner.

You should have thought about that before you started donning the guise of an ancient legend.

Idiot.

Weak.

Pathetic!

Your existence is a festering wound that poisons all in your vicinity.

Embrace the fire.

Let it cleanse all the filth you’ve spread.

But just know, your family will bear the scars of your choices, as they’re carved into their souls for eternity.

Richy sobbed through the agonising sensation weaving through his internal organs. He felt as though someone was weaving his internal organs together with a blunt needle, and they had deliberately coated the thread in salt to prolong his suffering. The increasing pressure in his head demanded an outlet as well.

Everything ached, it bled, and it tore him apart. He was so tired. So tired of trying.

This mine, this town, and all it had demanded of him, he was done with it all. He wanted it to burn. His desire was for them all to suffer, just as he had for a decade. He hadn’t dug just one grave that night. No, there had been one accident and four graves waiting for them. They’d just seen theirs too late.

The forest had never forgotten them, though. It had been patient.

That night with Hannah and Amy, it had never ended. It was a living nightmare he had no way out of. Their deaths had simply waited for them to catch up, and even if Hannah could find it in her to exist after all he’d done, he knew she’d died alongside Jennifer and the rest of them.

Ghosts. That’s what they were. He saw it now. There was no point in trying to hold it off anymore.

It was as if the pressure in his head imploded with that thought.

He wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings as his mind fragmented and warped, and his tenuous hold on reality slipped from his grasp.

The cave dissolved in his vision. Something at the very core of himself disintegrated with it.

He was somewhere else. Somewhere he had long tried to forget.

It was ten years ago.

Amy was there. As was Hannah.

He held a muddied shovel. The surrounding forest smelled like home, but his blood had turned cold. Jennifer’s lifeless body lay broken and bloodied, the remnants of shock still painted across her lovely features.

Her hair lay in a sanguine halo around her head as Richy set down the shovel, and silently, the trio worked to lift the woman.

Hannah’s sobs blended with his labored breathing, sweat drip, drip, dripped down his sore neck. He’d wanted to report it to the police. Tried to convince them to do so anonymously. But Hannah, in her fright, had convinced him they’d be signing their death warrants.

His family would suffer. It was he who gave her the keys to a client’s car. It was due to be scrapped, yes, but that didn’t make it better. Everyone would boycott his dad’s Garage and now that mom was growing worse, the sickness in her invading her mind, he knew they needed that income more than ever.

All they could do was hide the body, agree never to speak of this night, and give the greatest performances of their lives to ensure no one ever suspected them once word of Jennifer’s vanishing spread through Duskwood. He felt like something inside him was dying.

His throat tightened, mouth flooding with saliva as the urge to vomit overtook his senses. Heat crawled through him as he swallowed a mouthful of acidic bile and looked heavenward as they shuffled to stand at the edge of the crudely dug grave.

The stars overhead mocked them as the foliage and freshly overturned earth disguised the metallic scent of spilled blood and their sour shared guilt.

“Are you sure you can live with this?” He asked as they hesitated to drop Jennifer into the ground.

Amy chewed on her bottom lip, blood staining her teeth she’d bitten so hard, and her leaking eyes wouldn’t settle on anything as she gave a single jerky nod. Richy’s stomach sank, but he turned his gaze to Hannah.

His friend’s grief mottled face would haunt him forever as she said, “What other choice do we have?”

That answer inspired zero confidence, but Richy accepted it as an affirmation, and said, “Okay, on three—1, 2, 3!”

With a slight swing and a wobble, they released their hold on Jennifer and all three screwed their eyes shut as she hit the bottom of the hole with a sickening crunch.

Amy fell to her knees, her shaking hands gripping the loose mud ringing the unmarked grave as she sobbed uncontrollably. Richy could hardly stand to watch her, and was glad when Hannah, who was crying freely herself, hauled her away.

He nodded once as Hannah and Amy embraced, clinging to one another, wordless apologies pouring from them both as Richy retrieved his shovel.

He felt like they were being watched. Paranoia snaked through his mind like a weed he knew would grow out of control. All he could do was start refilling the grave.

The soft sound of metal scooping up damp earth seemed to ring through the forest as he internally shut down. All his emotions, he forced them aside. He locked them in a cage made of lead and lined with explosives. Life would never be the same.

Life would be a method actors dream after this. He knew this would change them at a molecular level and none of them could breathe a word of it once they left this cursed forest.

Richy took the last deep breath he’d ever experience and watched expressionlessly as the earth rained down on Jennifer. The pattering noise reminded him of rain, of tears. Amy cried harder while he diligently worked to cover up their mistakes.

Hannah watched, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Wetness trickled down his cheeks as he slowly returned to the present.

Hannah’s face floated across his vision as the scene fully dissipated, and he found himself back in the cave. Stale air replaced the aroma of the night dark forest, and a thin haze hung over his eyes as a euphoric rush raced through his bloodstream.

He felt as if he was floating and drowning in a sea of deliriousness.

The medication had kicked in. His legs were leaden as his head lolled on his neck as if on a swivel, and there was an odd sensation in his nose, like the smell of a roaring fire, but none had been lit. The bullet wound in his arm still griped. Infection had set in, he thought.

Only death would cure it. The meds would ease his passing.

A synthetic fatigue draped him like a cloak as he blinked blearily at the dancing shadows creeping nearer. His mouth turned so dry his tongue curdled in his mouth, and his breathing grew shallower as the painkillers burned through the aches in his body. Not long now, his mosaic mind kept jumping between the past and present, footsteps and disembodied voices whispered so close and real that he answered one.

“I should have turned myself in, I know.”

“At least we agree on something. ”

A female said. His suddenly too heavy head swung around to find the source, his sluggish heart raced faster and faster as the voice sounded like Jessy’s.

“Jess? Remember the fish? The names I made up? If I could—No—I’m so fucking sorry...” He said. He spoke with a voice threaded with deepest despondency.

“The fish were just another lie. All of it was. Your life ended the night Jennifer did. Was any of it real after that? Anything you said, did you mean any of it?”

His shrunken heart broke irrevocably, the agony radiated through his chest, and filled him with a coldness that would soon embrace all of him.

“I didn’t mean—please—I’m ready to pay for it. No one else will hurt because of me.” He swore vehemently.

Jessy’s spectral laugh, derisive and humorless, taunted him.

“We will hurt. It won’t go away. Your actions caused wounds that will scar us forever. Death is your relief. Living with what you did to us is our grief. Goodbye, Richy.”

Richy cried silently as her voice faded and the full effects of the painkillers turned his bones to jelly. He had to light the fire before he passed out. A coffin was his only way out of this cursed place.

Bracing a hand on the knobby wall, he gradually rose to his feet as rock crumbled under his fingers, and rained to the dusty ground, sweat on his palm mixed with the dirt as he tottered toward the entrance. He thumbed the Zippo open as he panted, jaw clenched and eyes stinging with slaking tears.

Petrol permeated the air. He breathed it in as he flicked the lighter and swayed on weak knees as the tiny flame ignited. In the dim, damp recesses of the mine, shadows waltzed like specters as Richy, face obscured by the glow of the lighter and shadow, dropped the flame with a snap of his wrist into the pool of gasoline.

Flame surged away from him, hissing along in a serpentine trail until it morphed into a living beast starved and hungry for destruction. He stumbled back. The heat was a physical blow as it sucked out the oxygen, and he trembled like a newborn fawn as he dropped to his knees and stared and stared and stared.

Amidst the cavernous depths of the mine, the candescent light of the furious fire cast a macabre ballet of shadows upon the rough-hewn walls, a surreal tableau of light and darkness. Tendrils of flame licked and lapped at the stone, awakening ember-tinged echoes that wavered and flashed like phantoms in the subterranean gloom.

Billowing smoke, an ash ridden shroud, coiled sinuously through the labyrinthine passages. The evidence he had doused in gasoline would soon catch fire. Relief glittered through him at the thought. An acrid perfume of burning wood and charred earth mingled with the metallic scent of ancient minerals, an otherworldly aroma that lingered in his lungs and clung to all his senses.

There was no going back now. Every breath was slower than the last. It felt like he was inhaling lava as the heat singed the soft tissue and hair in his nose.

His weighty eyelids sat at half mast. The tunnel walls seemed to exhale, releasing murmurs of long buried secrets, as if the very mine itself sought to voice its resignation to the all-consuming blaze. Mirroring his own easing turmoil as he shut down the instinct to flee and welcomed the darkness speckling the edges of his vision.

His lungs were burning as he struggled for air, and it felt like there was a boulder sitting on his chest, keeping them from inflating and grinding his bones down.

The feeling went out of his legs as his hands turned to claws and raked down his neck, leaving scarlet trails of pain scoring his constricting throat.

His world flipped sideways as he collapsed and his head cracked off the rubble strewn ground, but he no longer felt any pain. The roar of the fire, the slowing beat of his heart, and the stones poking into his tear-streaked face were all he knew.

As Richy’s weary eyes teetered on the edge of closure for the last time, a bizarre scene unfolded within the tumult of his fading consciousness.

The nerves in his hands spasmed and his fingers twitched, filthy nails scratching at the dirt to distract himself as he resisted the urge to fight for his life.

No, it had to end like this. If Hell was real, it was best he got used to it.

Freezing panic blasted through him like a blizzard as his blurred eyes caught sight of something that didn’t belong.

Through the shimmering haze of smoke and heat, a figure emerged from a tunnel he hadn’t thought to include in his fiery last act. His heart tried to beat faster as fear spread its icy fingers through his body. The person appeared cloaked in a shivering orange glow and erratic shadows.

Masked and foreboding, the phantom figure raced away without noticing Richy. And lost in the fractured fabric of his perception, Richy could not see who or what it was. If it was a real person, they might’ve tried to drag him out. This would all be for naught. For once, his horrendous luck benefited him.

As it was, the panicked footsteps bolted away from him, barely heard over the howling fire, and vanished into the tumult of smoke.

He hoped they made it out. It hadn’t occurred to him he might take another’s life with him. Just another mistake. Another tally on his list of sins committed. His choices lay before him like an intricately woven tapestry, each thread a testament to the wrong turns and paths he tread, yielding a disturbing, wretched pattern he wished he could unravel and weave anew.

His trembling gaze soon faltered as the slithering smoke filled his lungs, gasping for air that no longer existed as he spluttered and coughed. With every shallow inhale, the world blurred and distorted. Black spots burst like maleficent fireworks in his eyes, shutting down his fleeting thoughts of crawling to safety.

A cacophony of wheezes and whines slipping from his open mouth faded into a distant echo, as his eyelids, heavy with surrender, fluttered closed. He gave himself over to the exhaustion eating him alive from the inside.

The world outside ceased to matter as an alleviating darkness enveloped his mind. His tiny exhales were little more than puffs of air. A whispered farewell to all those he was leaving behind.

Richy had fallen quiet, but the fire raged on, growing stronger as it feasted on wood, and hastily packed boxes, and the papers inside them. His legacy of ash and blood.

In the letter he left for his parents, he had assumed all guilt and taken the lion's share of the responsibility for Jennifer’s death, and his actions after. Hannah, he thought she had suffered enough, and whatever punishment she received, he didn’t want it to ruin her more. Death was his toll to pay, his lethal reputation would exist long after him and pay for the rest of it. He only hoped his parents could move on from this.

They wouldn’t see him again, not until the funeral. It was over. The corrosive effects of his choices had eaten away at everything good in him.

There was nothing left to salvage from his wreckage.

He tried. And he failed. This time, he finally succeeded in something. The complete demolition of him. A tear slipped through his lashes, warm and soft as it fell to the mucky ground.

It was the last. No more fell.

Death came quietly for him, as silent as a falling leaf drifting into a pile of its fallen friends. His chest stuttered as tentacles of smoke wreathed around him like funeral wrappings, falling as still as the rock he lay atop.

Death finally slayed Richy Rogers’ demons, and no one heard their screams.

——————

I have never been so nervous about something I’ve written. I hope that you—I can’t say enjoyed 🙈 but I hope your time wasn’t wasted. Thank you for reading, if you made it this far.

This is in no way meant to glamorise mental illness or anything like that. That is not my intention. I have been where Richy was in this story, I didn’t kidnap or help bury anyone, but I’ve dealt with depression/anxiety all my life. I’ve dealt with suicidal thoughts. There is nothing glamorous about it. This is just a fictional character study to explore his mind and emotions at the end of the game. If you are struggling, please reach out to anyone you trust. Or a stranger, if that works better. Share the burden. You don’t have to suffer alone. It can get better. I promise. I wouldn’t be here if it didn’t ❤️🫂

Thank you ❤️

And the “masked figure,” that was Jake from this story, The Ending You Deserve. Just a little Easter egg for anyone who read that 🤭❤️

#dark fanfiction #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #duskwood fandom #duskwood #richy rogers #duskwood richy #duskwood jessy #duskwood jake #duskwood fanfic #duskwood oneshot #moonvale #duskwood episode 10 #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #duskwood fanfiction #one shot #angst #hurt/angst #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #sad ending #dark themes #duskwood x moonvale #duskwood mwaf #fanfiction writer #my writing #women writers #creative writers

[eidolons-stuff]

Enid: *uncontrollably sobbing*

Yoko: *comforting Enid* "Don't worry. It's Wednesday. She'll be fine"

Enid: "How can you be so sure?"

Yoko: "You really think Wednesday would let a little stoning affect her?"

#yoko #is right though #wednesday #would never let something as silly as a stoning #affect her #in fact #she might become stronger #out of anger #because of it #enid #enid sinclair #wenclair #wenclair cult #also #can we acknowledge #how amazing yoko is #mvp #right there

[hairmetal666]

Steve parks at Eddie's, a plastic wrapped bouquet of roses so purple they're almost black carefully buckled into the passenger seat, and a nervous twist to his stomach. He didn't plan to do this. It's just, he was agonizing about his crush to Robin and she goaded him until it seemed like a great fucking idea to ask Eddie out on Valentine's Day, of all days.

The flowers were an accident. He saw them in the front window of the little flower shop in town, and it felt like fate, like they were practically made for Eddie Munson.

With a deep breath and a gritted teeth, he swings out of the car, flowers in hand. He's doing this, he's got this, he can ask Eddie out.

Music rocks from the trailer, drowning out Steve's knock. They didn't exactly have plans tonight, only they hangout every night since Vecna, so he figured...well, Eddie never said they weren't getting together.

He's a little miffed when his knock isn't answered. Even when the music is up, the walls of the trailer vibrating, Eddie always comes to the door. But the minutes tick by with no response until the annoyance turns to anxiety.

He stretches over, up on tiptoe, craning through the window to see if he can spot Eddie, probably distracted by planning for dnd or working on a song.

The kitchen is deserted, pots steaming on the stove. The two-seater table is covered in one of those paper tablecloths they have at Melvald's for a buck, patterned with bright red hearts. The table is set, two plates, two beers, a candle burning in the center of it all.

God, he's stupid. So stupid, with his nearly black flowers and his silly crush. Of course Eddie already had someone to spend Valentine's Day with.

He stumbles down the stairs, stomach fighting up his throat. The loud music makes so much sense now. He has to leave. He can't stand the thought of Eddie finding him here, letting him down easy; can stand even less seeing him with the date he has over.

Steve almost makes it back to the car before he hears the screen door slam, Eddie's voice calling his name. For a second, he considers ignoring him; for a second, he thinks about jumping in the car and driving off and forgetting this ever happened. But he could never do that to Eddie, not even when the consequence is his own heart.

"Oh, uh. Hey, man," Steve says. He runs his fingers through his hair, swallows. "Didn't mean to interrupt, thought we had plans but I guess they weren't set in stone." He's rambling and he knows it, but can't stop. "I didn't realize you--I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie's eyes flicker from Steve to the flowers clutched in his fist, the wrapping now sweaty and rumpled. "Are those for me?" Eddie asks.

Steve's mouth open and closes a few times, thrown off the track of his monologue and trying to think of a plausible lie. "I--they're--it's--"

There's nothing for it. He has to tell the truth and eat the humiliation. "I saw them today and--They're perfect for you. So, I wanted--" he shakes his head, shoves the bouquet into Eddie's arms. "Happy Valentine's Day. I'll let you get back to your date."

Eddie's face scrunches and it would be cute except for all the way Steve's heart is breaking. "Aren't you my date?"

"What?"

"Steve. We hang out every night. I thought--"

"But. For me--" He splutters. "The table?"

"Harrington, it's Valentine's Day! You bought me flowers!"

"Yeah, cause I was going to ask you out!"

This is what breaks Eddie, and he bursts out into helpless giggles.

"Don't laugh at me, Munson." But he's starting to laugh too.

"I'm sorry! I just--you," and Eddie isn't laughing anymore, he's looking at Steve with clear, shining eyes. "You brought me flowers."

Steve sobers too, hands over the bouquet. "I brought you flowers. You made me dinner."

"Yeah." He glances up at Steve from under his eyelashes. "I made you dinner."

"Sorry for--" He gestures broadly around himself.

Eddie shakes his head, soft smile on his lips. "You're something else, Stevie." The words are so fond they make Steve's heart flip. "Now, come inside before the food gets cold."

Steve walks to do the door, pausing before he climbs the stairs.

"What is it?" Eddie's eyebrows lift.

"Nothing. Just--" Steve licks his lips, notices the way Eddie tracks the movement. "I'm really falling for you, is all."

"No duh," Eddie says with a broad, smitten grin. "You bought me flowers."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harringon #eddie munson #ficlet #valentine's day #friends to lovers #fluff #a smidge of angst #misunderstanding #oblivious steve harrington #idiots in love #they're not dating but they're not NOT dating #getting together #feelings confession #no duh #working on a steddie “no duh” agenda now i guess

[bloomries]

me? wha- never been jealous in my life—

includes : the demon brothers (lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor).

summary : in which he experience some silly, childish jealousy!

warnings : gn! reader. feelings of jealousy/envy from character.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── lucifer

You were just taking Lucifer's advice and getting a tutor, you didn't realize it would be such a big deal. Leaning in closer to the demon to better hear him, you suddenly felt a cool grip on your shoulder. Looking up you see Lucifer giving the poor student the death glare. "You're coming with me," His eyes shifted down to you, and you sigh, packing up your stuff.

When you two were out of the library, you pull away from the grip he had on your wrist. Arms crossed over your chest, you eye him up and down before shaking your head. "Are you okay?"

He stiffens at your words, a small scowl forming. You quirk a brow, before coming to a conclusion. "Oh, don't tell me... were you jealous?" Red eyes widen and wings spread out- but you're not impressed by his little intimidation technique.

"Me?" He guffaws, hand placed on his chest melodramatically. "ME? You think I'm jealous? Ha!" He scoffs, and you can only give an incredulous stare. He clears his throat at your lack of reaction. "I am not jealous. That is a ridiculous notion."

"Yeah, okay." You shake your head. "If you were jealous though, I wouldn't be upset. It's actually kind of funny," You snicker, and he glares at you.

"Well, it's a good think I'm not jealous." You just hum, walking alongside him now.

"Riiiight," You glance over at him, before grinning mischievously. "So, who will tutor me now, hm?" Lucifer looks down at you, before not-so-subtly suggesting himself as your tutor. After all, no one is better than him... Right?

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── mammon

"Mammon," You say, your hands cupping his cheek. He looks at you pitifully. If someone were to see his expression they'd surely believe something very serious and heartbreaking was going on. "Mammon, I'm yours."

"Say it again." He pouts, his hands resting over yours. Is he relishing in all your attention now that he's gained it back? Absolutely. Are you growing annoyed at his shamelessness? Absolutely.

"This is the fifteenth time." You sigh, and he just whines. You groan, rolling your eyes before looking him in his eyes again and saying your line with the utmost earnest. "I'm yours, Mammon."

"... Again?"

"Oh my- Mammon, it was a puppy!" Mammon huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling that it didn't matter what species it was, if you gave anything or anyone more attention than your first man it would be reasonable for him to react in such a way.

Sighing, you reposition yourself on to your knees, now towering over him a little. Cupping his cheeks once more, you pull him into a very passionate, loving kiss- one that, when you pull away, leaves him breathless and dazed.

"Uh... what was... going on?"

"Nothing," You say, pleased, and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── leviathan

"Hey, Levi...?" He tenses at your voice, stiffly turning around in his gaming chair to face you. You hesitate to speak, "Uhm... Do you remember that figurine you bought me?" If he could turn into stone right now, he would. "Well, I accidentally lost it somehow? Have you seen it at all?"

Oh, that was it? Levi lets out a shaky, relieved exhale as he turns back around in his gaming chair. "No, I haven't." This is a lie though, Leviathan had managed to get jealous of the figurine that got to stay in your room, by your side, more often than he, so he may or may not have it in one of his drawers, ready to destroy and torture it.

You let out a whine as you drape yourself against the back of his gaming chair, your hands resting on his chest. "'m so sorry Levi, don't be mad, okay? I'll do my best to find it."

Despite the lump in his throat and guilt gnawing at his heart, he takes your hand and presses a kiss to it. "D- Don't worry about it, okay? I'm not upset!" You peak over the chair to see his expression better and- wow, you really can't see any signs of distress!

"Really? Well, okay, but I'll still look for it!" You cheer, turning his chair around and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "After all, it's an important gift from a very special person~"

Ah, Levi's heart can't handle it anymore- you're too precious, and you just claimed he was a very special person! He didn't need to be jealous of that dumb figurine— don't be surprised if you find the figurine on your shelf later!

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── satan

How did you manage to score better than him in his favorite subject? Satan stares at your paper, which held the higher grade, with the utmost annoyance. A small scowl was forming on his lips as he continued to burn holes into the paper. You furrow your brows, being able to read him easily.

"Uhm, 'tan?" Snapping out of his angered gaze, he looks up at you, and feels a little guilty. You worked hard, you deserve a good grade... Just not better than him. "Are you okay?"

"... Can I read your essay?" You nod, offering him the paper and he reads it over, nitpicking everything- of course he doesn't say it aloud, though can still practically see smoke coming out of his ears. You sigh, "Are you... Jealous?"

His eyes widen and he looks up at from your paper, scoffing in shock. "No, I-... I'm just very proud." His strained smile and sinister aura tell you otherwise. Gently, you take the paper from him and replace it with yourself. Sitting on his lap, you smile down at him.

"I can give you some tutoring lessons, if you'd like." You tease- a very dangerous thing to do considering. Instead of getting more pissed off though, he just stares up at you before chuckling. A reaction only you can pull off.

"Ah, is that so?" He asks, tilting his head. "Perhaps I need it." He glances at his paper, which holds the lower of the two grades. His grip tightens a bit. Well, if playful teasing didn't distract him it seems you'd need to find another way!

And kisses are truly such a wonderful distraction, are they not?

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── asmodeus

Asmodeus is used to others getting jealous of him, or of others being closed to him, but he's never been the one being jealous! It's a very interesting feeling, he'd concluded, as it's hard to breathe and his heart feels like it's getting punched.

Some random demon actually thinks they have a shot with you? It irks him. With a deadly smile, he slinks over to the both of you, before gasping dramatically as he falls against you. "Oh there you are! My beloved, my one and only, my light, my jewel~" He purrs, wrapping his arms around you.

"Oh, hey Asm-" He starts peppering kisses all over your face, and you indulge in them because when Asmodeus is around you truly have no one else on your brain.

Taking a peak, Asmo smirks when the other demon gets visibly uncomfortable and leaves, mumbling embarrassed apologies and curses.

Pulling away from you, you chase after him only to whine when he presses his pointer finger against your lips. He sends you a wink, "Don't worry, you'll receive plenty more later." You nod, taking his hand and smiling gently at him.

"Should we head to class then?"

"Mmhm~" Asmo smiles, proud of himself that you don't remember that nobody from earlier!

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── beelzebub

Beelzebub feels ridiculous, he really shouldn't be jealous but when he sees the way his fellow teammates are staring at you in the stands, that ugly feeling bubbles up in his chest. You're waving at him, smiling so brightly it could blind him!

You then hold out your hand for the players to high five, as a 'good job' for all their hard work practicing for an upcoming game, and the players had lined up ready to receive said precious high five- but before anyone could move another inch, Beel was in front of you and had high fived your hand before taking hold of it, interlocking his fingers.

"Huh? Beel? Are you okay?" You ask, worried. His head is hung, mostly because he's trying to hide the blush that's painting his cheeks and ears. He's a little embarrassed for acting in such a manner. Cold to his teammates, and so quick to take action to make it known that you're with him.

"Yeah, I'm alright," He lifts his head, looking up at you with furrowed brows. "Uhm... Well..."

"Yeah?" You encourage, waiting patiently for him to sort out his feelings. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, reassuring him, and he lets out a weak sigh.

"Keep... Keep your eyes only on me, okay?"

Now it's your turn to blush. A bit shocked by his sudden possessive words- although definitely not upset- you nod. "O- Okay! I will!" You squeeze his hand again before retracting it. "Good job practicing today, Beel!" Ruffling his hair, you can't help but admire that cute flustered expression he holds. Even when he's jealous, he's adorable!

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── belphegor

"It was a dreeeam!" You shake his shoulders, and he groans and grunts with each shake. He still refuses to speak, though, and avoids your eyes. He's being so pouty and whiny over nothing!

"Belphie, I swear," You drop him and he lands against his plush pillows. You fall on top of him and he grunts against, damn you. "You're always so mean to me, I didn't even do anything."

"Well in my dream you did." He sneers, holding his nose up high. At least he spoke to you! That's progress! You perk up and scoot closer to his face, giving him your best attempt of puppy dog eyes.

"Belphie I would never, ever entertain someone else!" You assure, "So stop being pouty," You start peppering kiss all over his face. "If I could," You mumble against his skin, "I'd beat up dream me for flirting with someone else and then kiss dream you and reassure dream you."

Belphie's eyes widen and he scoffs. "Oh? So you want to kiss dream me and not real me?" You pull back. Is he... being serious right now? Was he even aware of how many kisses you just planted on his face? Also is he seriously jealous of 'dream him'?

You frown, collecting your thoughts quickly. "No! I mean, if dream you isn't real you, the no I wouldn't kiss dream you! I'm only going to kiss my Belphie!"

He stares at you for a second, before smiling. Ah, it seems you've reached the right answer! Rejoicing in getting Belphegor to not be a whiny demon anymore, you wrap your arms around him tightly and close your eyes. That was exhausting, time for a nap!

꒰ ❀ ꒱ thank you for reading. have a wonderful day, darling!

#obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff #om imagines #om x reader #om headcanons #om fluff #omswd x reader #omswd imagines #omswd headcanons #omswd fluff #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader

[multific]

A Thousand Years

Astarion x Reader

Summary: Astarion tells a story of love.

"Tell me about your wife." said the man sitting in front of Astarion, the room was quiet around them, only the crackling of the fire could be heard.

Upon hearing the word, wife, Astarion's features softened. 

"It might be a long one."

"I want to hear it." insisted the man as he leaned back in his chair, waiting for Astarion to start.

Astarion smiled, his eyes filled with love as he began.

"My wife... My beloved Y/N. She saved me you know, in more ways than one. She not only helped me kill the man who caused me so much pain and suffering, but she saved me from myself.

My beloved was a strong woman, brave and incredibly beautiful. She was a kind soul and yet, she could kill a thousand men without taking a break.

She loved songs and loved to dance. Although that might be because I was the one dancing with her. She often said she didn't wish to dance with anyone else but me.

She enjoyed sweets. But only the ones I have given her.

And even if I told her not, she kept on eating them.

It has been so long yet, I will never forget her laugh. She became my world. You know, it wasn't even intentional, I fell in love by accident. I was only meant to seduce her so she would help me kill Cazador. And yet I found myself in love.

But make no mistake, I never regretted the feelings I have. Not once. Falling in love with her was so easy.

I am quite privileged to be able to tell that she was my wife.

My... scars on my back, she cried when she first saw them. She hugged me and told me how sorry she was for I had to endure such pain. She kissed me and cried at the same time. I was so confused by it, I didn't know what to do.

But then, not long after, I asked her to marry me." Astarion looked at the gold band on his finger.

"I never believed in marriage, I thought it was silly for people to bind themselves to one another, and the symbol of it all... a simple ring. I laughed at the idea until I met the person I never wanted to let go of again. Suddenly I wanted nothing more but to have her bonded to me and for me to be bonded to her. I looked and searched for the perfect rings. Matching ones, but hers had a simple stone in the middle. A stone which was made of our blood. The perfect diamond, mixed with my and her blood. And then, we were married. Not like the words of others mattered to me, I would have been happy just to have her in my life, but to have her as my wife... it meant everything. 

I will not bore you of the events directly after the wedding, leave it up for your imagination I suppose, but I can assure you, she was the first woman who could have me at her feet with a simple look.

And she always looked at me with so much love and care. She was always so gentle and lovely.

When people say love burns like fire, they lie, my love for her burns like lava, much like the core of the Earth. I was ready to destroy everything and everyone who would dare get between us. If I had to, I would have burnt down villages for her, for she was mine.

And not long after, she gave me the greatest gift. 

A gift so precious.

I will never forget the look on her face when she told me, pure happiness.

She was with child.

Something I never even thought would be possible for me and yet there she was, getting more and more round with my child, with my son. Our son.

She was the sun for me. I have lived a long life in darkness and pain, and she made it all go away with a simple simple. I had a life of happiness thanks to her." Astarion leaned back in his chair once more when the noises from the kitchen stopped.

"STOP TELLING PEOPLE I'M DEAD!"

"I have never used the word 'dead', My Love." Astarion turned to look at you as you exited the kitchen.

"But you made it sound like I am." you pouted as Astarion looked at the ring on your finger, he smiled as you placed the food on the table. "Don't listen to him, Love, he is but an old romantic." you said as you sat down.

"I am very much aware, Mother. I just like to listen to him talk about you." admitted your son as he smiled at the two of you. Now a grown man, yet all you could see was him as a little boy running around the house, hair silver like his father's but eyes the same as yours.

"That's because I love your mother very much."

"I love you too." you replied as you all finally began to eat.

You two loved each other for a thousand years, and you will continue to love for another thousand to come.

Your son could only hope to find such love.

Taglist: @fleursirvart@greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace@sincerelyfan@theoneanna@aestheticsandmarvel@rororo06@castellandiangelo@destynelseclipsa@spilledinkindumpster@capsiclesdoll@puknow@alwayshave-faith@alex12948@lxdyred@imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl@anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek@praline357 @trshngyn@avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse@jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie@noname2246

In case you want to help out a dreamer: patreon.com/multific  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion imagine #astarion romance #astarion imagines #x reader #x female reader #baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate iii #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate imagine #baldurs gate imagines #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x you #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion ancunin imagine #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin imagines #astarion ancunin x fem reader #video games

[nyyrami]

LOVING HIM WAS HARD . . .

ᡣ𐭩 synopsis. he was your lover. the one you were meant to cherish in your heart but work and duty have taken them away from you and your left to sleep in a cold bed almost every night. maybe staying with them isn’t the right decision after all.

ᡣ𐭩 tags. ayato x reader, xiao x reader, kazuha x reader, neuvillette x reader. angst. little bit of fluff. reader leavesً forever. or sometimes the boy.

ᡣ𐭩 a/n . genshin angst is the best angst so of course I had to do it.!!! this trope is so sad and im a sucker for sadness. if you enjoyed a like or reblog would greatly be appreciated. NOT PROOFREAD.

AYATO of this one thing you were certain, you loved ayato with your whole heart. not because he was the head of the kamisato clan, nor because he was the older brother of your beloved friend ayaka. but because he never failed to make you smile. never failed to cause that light feeling in your chest or made the tips of your ears go red and your stomach flutter.

your silly crush on him grew to be something more than you could ever imagine, and before you knew it you’d fallen in love. it seemed you weren’t the only one. ayato had confessed after a night at the uyuu restaurant. of course you’d proclaimed your love for him too. when would you ever pass up the offer? only now you wished he’d given you a warning beforehand. that loving him would come with the price of barely seeing him. touching him, speaking to him even. many days you slept on an empty cold bed. and many days you awoke to no one beside you. it became such a daily occurrence you’d forgotten the last time you’d even slept beside him. nonetheless felt his hands upon your skin. his touch was a fleeting dream. one you tried so hard to hold onto but whenever you seemed to grasp it, it slid away like sand through your palm.

so you did the most reasonable thing. you let him go.

XIAO was a warrior. he had a warrior heart and he fought like one. it was expected of the adepti. he was a protector and fought monsters so it was only cliche that you’d met him when he was fighting one. you couldn’t take you eyes off him. the way he moved with grace with his polearm. as if he and the weapon were like one. enemies were felled in his quack and you realised why he was called the conqueror of demons.

it was only when you were caught watching him did he finally acknowledge you. he was kind and thoughtful and always had something smart to say. maybe that was why you fell for him. it was inevitable really. xiao was a beauty like none other and maybe you were attracted to that, his foreignness.

that was also the reason why you were so incompatible. xiao was a fighter. he vanquished demons and any foe alike. he was needed everywhere, all the time. you were just a human. you were like the stone, you stood in one place , never moving. but he was like the wind, everywhere but also nowhere. he was a soft breeze on an afternoon that you’d try to follow, but it was too quick. too changing for you to hold on.

maybe that was why you left too.

KAZUHA was freedom. he was the wind that blew in from the sea, bringing the promise of rain. he was like a leaf on a phantom wind. it’s course ever changing. that was how you’d met him. on the docks of inazuma. you we’re working at a stall for you father. bored out of your wits. that was when you’d caught the first glimpse of him. blonde hair with a dashing streak of red. when you locked eyes and he made his way to you. you could practically hear your heart pounding in your ears. love was not an unfamiliar feeling to you it was one you’d never experienced and been given fro your parents, your friends. but this time it was different.

you’d hit it off immediately. your love of poetry binding you. you spent hours, listening to his stories of his adventures. he’d tell you stories of his companions he’d traveled with. and also of the ones he’d lost. he even told you of the one he’d lost to the raiden shogun. maybe that was your first telling. kazuha lived his life on his tip toes. the thrill of adventure kept him moving. you were such a stark contrast to him. you wanted the peaceful quiet life. it wasn’t all that surprising when you were at the docks once again, at the end of summer, watching as his ship sailed off into the distance. it wasn’t all that surprising when you realised he hadn’t given you a goodbye.

NEUVILLETTE was a bringer of justice. he was a judge of fontaine and throughout his various trials, his decree was usually the end point for whoever was on the receiving end. he wasnt happy about some of the outcomes, but his personal feelings were supposed to be detached from the case. he’d done that centuries ago when he took up the role.

you’d met him at the court house. filing some papers for the latest convict. you didn’t like the outcome of the previous trial. you seemed it unfair. but what could you do? your complaints would do nothing to save them so you sucked up your feelings and moved on with your day but the sadness for them always re-emerged when you were doing your work.

you couldn’t look at neuvillette the same either. you knew not to blame him. of course you did. you knew the law was not his word. that if his judgments were from the heart they would be much more different. but how could you remove the judge from the man for whenever you saw him you were reminded of the harsh iudex of fontaine. it came to no shock to him when you never returned to the courthouse again. he’d seen the forlorn look in your eye whenever you saw him, it was hard not to.

©SATURVUE 24 do not copy, repost or plagiarise my work. thank you. if you enjoyed, a like or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!!!

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact imagines #ayato x reader #xiao x reader #kazuha x reader #Neuvillette x reader #gojo angst #neuvilette genshin

[nyursi]

𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐘!

꒰ † ੭‎ㅤNSFW 18+ㅤ(MDNI)...  oliver never thought that arriving at saltburn would leave a much more deep and sinister ache in his bones. and it's all because of you. felix is no better.ㅤノㅤnot proofread.

ᡴꪫ‎ TODAY'S SPECIAL!ㅤfelix catton, oliver quick.

WOULD YOU LIKE SPRINKLES? (っω=`)ㅤm!rdr, no spoilers surprisingly, weird stuff cause its oliver (but felix is weird too), wet dreams, stealing underwear, drugging, groping, somnophilia.

                 ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

It was alluring, really. Who could say no to the gorgeous stone walls of the castle? With its very own glamorous inhabitants to match as well. Saltburn practically begged Oliver to come and take it all for himself.

And who was he to deny that call?

Felix Catton too, bore the same charisma. The boy always had everyones eyes on him, no matter the place or time. There was just something about him that grabbed all the attention.

Like a magnet, attracting all the girls and boys to present themselves just to gain a spot in Felix's long list of night stands.

So when Felix so graciously offered for Oliver to spend the summer with him, how could he say no?

He felt so fulfilled, seeing the extravagant hallways, walls lined with all the odd things they had, and the majestic carpets complementing the floor. But nothing ever compared to the feeling that hit him like a truck when he met you.

It was unexpected. There was a quick panic that you, of all people, would ruin his plans, to conquer the estate and banish all the Catton's from existence. I mean, who were you? A relative? Close friend? Surely someone important enough for Elspeth and Sir James to let you stay.

"This is my friend," Felix introduced, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, having noticed the tension between you two. Despite the awkwardness filling the air; you excitedly held out your hand for Oliver to shake. "How come I've never seen you around?" He asked.

You shrugged, "I don't go to Oxford."

Oliver must've not realized how tight his grip had been on your hand, not until you struggled to pull away. Felix smirked in amusement. "Now now, play nice Oliver. He's fragile, and I'd prefer my little friend to be in good condition at all times."

"Felix!" You groaned, nudging against his chest. Rolling your eyes playfully, you shook your head and looked to Oliver. "Don't listen to him, roughhouse all you want." The sweet smile reached your eyes, but the words that accompanied it were venomous. "He did it all the time when we were little. Actually, he still does."

Oh. So you two were close.

He didn't know why, but it left a rather bitter taste in his mouth. Was it because you were close with Felix? Or because Felix was close with you?

Either way, Oliver quickly realized that it just made sense for both of you to be friends. You were a warm light that drew everyone closer, huddling for the warmth you gave so generously. With your attractive physique to accompany such a bright personality made Oliver's heart flutter in a way that made him unsure. (Not to mention that cute boyish smile you had on your face nearly 24/7.)

Had you attended Oxford too— he was sure you and Felix would be a duo no one could forget. A package deal, he'd say.

Oliver found it uncomfortable how quick you were able to get on his good side. You were just so... likeable. In a way that whenever you and Felix would mess around, he found it endearing.

Two utterly perfect boys with the most perfect relationship. Everyone in Oxford would kill to be you.

But Oliver would kill to take Felix's place.

And that thought shocked him; Oliver never thought there would ever be someone else to hold on pedestal, higher than the throne Felix sat on. Because he wanted that closeness, the intimacy of your so called friendship, your very being down to your bones.

He was desperate to have your attention, to join in your silly little inside jokes that Oliver could never understand, to be the reason of your giggles and reddened cheeks from laughter, how your chest heaved with every intense howl deep from your chest, not Felix.

It's not like he didn't notice Felix's unwavering affection towards you. It almost made Oliver chuckle out loud, the first time he found out how enamored Felix was with the boy he wanted to get rid of.

He didn't know he'd too, join the bandwagon of steadfast interest towards Felix's friend. (Boy toy, Oliver wanted to say. But with how platonic you are with him, he doubts the godsend Felix ever had a chance to devour you.)

No worries, Oliver will just take things in his own hands. He'll handle these pressing matters, like how he always has and always will. It's just in his nature. He may never be the strongest, or most attractive in the room, but he sure is the smartest.

Hell— he's definitely the most intelligent amongst those in Saltburn. That's for sure.

You were just incredibly dumb. Gullible, naive— too trusting. Too ready to welcome the outsider Oliver Quick within the estate, who looked like he was attempting to take and seal away Felix from ever seeing you again.

Did you really not feel their burning gazes on your body? Whenever you donned the awfully tight swim shorts at the pond; neither could pull away their eyes because of how it hugged your frame. Showing off the curve of your hips and your behind, displaying a waist that they wanted to grab so badly, and thighs that could be stared at for days.

The exposed skin glistening with water under the burning sun, messy wet hair that clung to your forehead. Plump red lips that encased a popsicle, suckling and even poking your tongue out to lick your fingers when the melted treat slowly dribbled down them.

Perhaps you did know, and this was your own way of teasing them for a stunt they pulled a few nights before. Revenge.

That night, when you wore such careless attire, one that consisted of a large shirt that practically engulfed your frame (one that Oliver knew to be Felix's), and the sinful boxers that held your prick just behind the fabric, Oliver took a trip to the laundry room.

Imagine his shock when he found Felix Catton digging through your laundry basket that held the same boxers from the night before.

A solidarity formed between them that night. A relationship deeper than before. Oliver was just as in love with you as Felix was.

But it killed them to see how oblivious you were with their intentions.

Weren't they trying hard enough?

It came to the point where they were desperate enough to consider drugs. Of all things. The family would all have dinner as usual, but a simple slip of an extra ingredient would be placed into your food.

"Are you alright, dear?" Elspeth asked, concerned from the other side of the table.

Felix quickly came to your rescue, standing up and dragging you to your bedroom. "He might be ill, we'll take care of him." He met eyes with Oliver, who didn't hesitate to join his side. "I'll see to it that he recovers smoothly." And without a second thought, they both left to carry you to Felix's bedroom.

You groaned, the pounding in your skull too much to handle. But Felix talked you through it all the way. Legs too weak to get up the stairs? No worries, they've got that covered. Neither complained when they're able to get this close to your warm body.

"Atta boy," Felix praised, slowly lowering you on his bed. Oliver placed the back of his hand to your forehead, wincing at its temperature.

"That's not a side effect, is it?" Their motives were ultimately changed when you kept writhing on the bed, uncomfortable at the heat and ache throughout your body. You felt sick. This was not part of the plan.

Felix scoffed. "Of course not." He turned to you, frowning when you sobbed. "We'll just... change plans."

There was no doubt to it. Your current state was not to their liking to continue their original ideas, and its not like it was helping with their... guilt. Thinking back on it, they've realized that their original plan was rather unsavory.

It made them look like hypocrites.

After all, they've been wanting and needing you to dream of them as well. Countless nights spent under the sheets behind the safety of their doors, jacking off and wishing it was your hole around their cocks, not their fists.

The wet dreams of you being so good for them, taking them all at once— or the times when they peaked through the bathroom door to watch you showering, and purposefully breaking your doorknob so they can barge in your room whilst you were getting dressed, those they could play off.

But to take you, unsolicited whilst your mind was hazy, was against all their fantasies. They wanted you to want them the same way. With the same desperation, the same debauchery.

So they let you be for now.

The late night fantasies that constantly replayed in their head would be enough. For your sake. Because if they allowed the strong, primal urge to pounce and take you as you were; the bed is where you'd live.

But it doesn't mean the urge was gone.

Oh no, it was very much still there.

So when your soft snores reached their ears, they wasted no time to climb under the sheets, with you between their aching bodies. And no matter how hard they tried to shoo away the dark thoughts nagging at the back of their heads, it still found a way to hypontize them.

It was a golden opportunity. You were sick, yes. But you were still drugged. Fast asleep. Deep into dreamland. How could they pass it up?

Oliver bit his lip and maintained eye contact with Felix. What were they to do? Felix stayed in deep contemplation, but was quickly surprised when Oliver made the first move.

He quickly raised your shirt up to your collarbone, breath stuck in his throat when he was met with your nipples. Oliver traced your chest with his finger, featherlight as he felt your soft skin for the first time.

And shit, did it feel great.

Felix on the other hand, took a more bold approach. Kissing at your nape while massaging his hand down your spine, towards your waistband. He tugged at first, but eventually settled on sneaking his palm beneath your boxers to feel the sweet mounds of flesh he's been dreaming of.

They groped and touched, feeling up every inch of you. No nook or cranny was left un-corrupted by their sinful hands. Slowly, their cocks hardened and they threw away all rational thoughts (Though there were none to begin with, really. Did anyone think rationally when they were in your presence?) Beginning to hump and palm at your own crotch.

Your drowsy whines and hums brought them closer to release. Even in your sleep you managed to be oblivious, unknowing to the dirty acts they commit. Hips bucking and stuttering, breath hitching, the creaking of the bed.

Whispered cussing and lip biting, red marks littered across your skin with their harsh grabbing. It was only after they reached their peak had all your breaths labored, you probably just thought it was a really good dream.

Oliver and Felix began to feel their eyelids get heavy. Even if they didn't get what they originally wanted, at least they got a taste of it. And fuck did they want more.

But no matter, there was always next time.

vanillaclaws 2024.ㅤdo not repost.

#っω=`)ㅤ⎯⎯ㅤmy works... #( ୨୧‎ )ㅤdebauchery! #felix catton #felix catton x male reader #felix catton smut #oliver quick #oliver quick x male reader #oliver quick smut #saltburn x male reader #saltburn smut #bottom male reader #uke male reader #sub male reader #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x reader

[bluberryfields]

"I want a proper apology."

The dramatic “apology dance”

In the entirety of Season 2, I think the “apology dance” scene is pretty close to my favorite.

The way Crowley walks in like he’s entering a stage in a packed theater.

The way Azi clearly sees him coming and fusses himself up to look extra focused on his work and not at all excited about Crowley’s return.

Crowley, noticing that Azi has yet to look at him, ramps up the drama by:

Whipping off his glasses (taking off his armor)

Response from Azi? Clears his throat and focuses harder on his work.

Time for Level 2 Drama, it seems.

Stalking over to the table (no sauntering here)

Tossing the glasses down (looks casual but absolutely isn’t)

Ringing that little bell (like a ceremonial gong signaling “this is fucking happening”)

Walking back into the rotunda where he has maximum visibility (also maximum vulnerability)

Azi now has no choice but to react, which he does by slowly looking up and over at Crowley, who looks like the human-shaped embodiment of dread.

Finally announcing “I’m back” like the bitchy customer who just yesterday had declared they were never shopping here again

I mean, wow. Amazing. Glorious.

Not to be outcunted, Azi just casually turns back to his work and practically hums, “Yes. I can see that.”

Damn, Aziraphale, did you take lessons in passive aggression from my mother?

Now Crowley groans in a way that I felt to my core and asks, “Do you want a big, ‘I think I said the wrong thing,’ sort of an apology, or can we take that as said?”

He averts his eyes until the last second because this probably feels more demeaning than begging Azi not to do his magic act at Warlock’s birthday part.

Still turned away, Azi replies in a tone that is a mix of hurt and guilt that makes me think this has been coming for awhile. "I'd like the apology actually." I bet you would, Angel.

Back to Crowley, he pauses to assess his options, takes a deep breath, and says the magic words: “You were right.” Also looks like he almost says something else but either doesn’t know what to say or doesn’t want to say it.

Oh wow, so convincing. Bravo.

Finally, Azi puts down his glasses and his work and turns to address Crowley. He is not happy.

“Not good enough. I want a proper apology.” Also, side note, but Michael Sheen’s voice here is just…yum.

Before Azi can finish, Crowley is so quick to reject this idea. “No.” with a shake of the head.

You're not winning this battle, Crowley, and you know it.

“With the little dance.” Azi’s voice perks up and his eyes brighten at the hope this will happen. Seize that opportunity!

Again, Crowley barely let’s the word “dance” come out before he tries to shut it down. “I don’t do the dance.” Nope, no sir, not this demon.

Oh no, now Azi’s anger joins the hurt and guilt for a vicious trifecta. “I did the ‘I was wrong’ dance in 1650, 1793, 1941…” each date being spat out with increasing amounts of venom.

Oh Crowley, you brought this on yourself, girl.

This non-apology combined with his “I'm sorry. I apologize. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it. Work with me, I’m apologizing here. Yes? Good. Get in the car.” and I can see why Azi reacts to this the way he does.

Crowley knows he’s beaten and concedes with a “Fine!” that feels the very opposite of the word.

Okay so before the “proper apology” can begin, Azi gets up from his chair, straightens his waistcoat, and stands with his hands grasped in front of him like a proper gentleman. A properly petty gentleman.

Then the main attraction! Crowley, looking completely stone-faced, does “the little dance.”

It’s wonderful. He looks so silly and childish and graceful and mature. And god, that deep knee bend at the end? Amazing.

Also amazing is Crowley’s face when he says "Kay?” while bobbing his head and eyebrows back like a sassy rooster? *chef’s kiss*

For Azi’s part, god it is just a delicious mix of polite poker face and barely concealed thirst. I see your eyes scanning Crowley, drinking in that thin, dark Duke. That little dance will live in his head forever.

And that’s the signal to go back to normal! Crowley regains control and Azi falls back into the supporting role.

Long-term relationships are hard, yo.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow #david tennant #michael sheen #ineffable idiots #ineffable partners #apology dance #i want a proper apology #with the little dance #thirsty aziraphale #very nice indeed #thin dark duke #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #good omens gifs #good omens meta

[ruins-posts]

── “Nuisance” [Ryomen Sukuna]

synopsis — Suku basically being one big tsundere.

Requested by anon — Can you do something where Sukuna being a BIG Tsundere gets all mushy and grumpy when he sees a peek of you sketch him? You're the best! thankssss!!!

Sukuna will die a thousand times over, but he will never say 'I love you'. He's no weakling. That's just an overused expression, often with no meaning behind it from the ones who say it. He likes it when you say it, though. Those pretty doe eyes of yours filled with admiration as you look up to him, thumbs softly stroking the deformed part of his face, but he simply mutters a 'pathetic' or a 'hmph' as one of his hands caress the top of your head.

You even go as far as do silly things for him. Sometimes you put flowers in his hair, sometimes you coddle him like he's some spoiled brat (he obviously likes it, but don't tell him that), sometimes you cook for him, eagerly awaiting his feedback— all of it was amusing, but today, you went as far as to put your artistic skill into use for making a sketch of him.

When you didn't open your door to give him his goodnight kiss, (hey! not like he wanted it or something—), he decides to open the door to your chambers, pale moonlight illuminating the canvases with intricate paintings etched upon them, bringing their plain-ness to life, his lips curve into a slight smile. But it's quick to fade when he sees you asleep on your wooden desk.

The exposed side of your cheek has a small black smudge, compared to the fingers that seem relatively more smudged with the black of your artistic tools. A few sheets are scattered in your front, the one that catches his eye being a portrait of his very own self.

Your artistic production of him is simply magnificent. Half-way shaded, yet so filled with detail. As if that wasn't enough to warm his heart, which he doubted ever existed, it clicked to him that you slept over your desk making this masterpiece of him. What a silly woman, truly.

Sukuna stood there for a moment, staring at you with an expression that was a strange mix of irritation and fondness. He couldn't believe you had fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable position. With a heavy sigh, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Gently, he scooped you up in his strong arms, being careful not to jostle you too much. You stirred slightly in your sleep but settled back into a peaceful slumber as he carried you to your bed.

"Tch, what a stupid girl you are..." he chuckles, tucking the blanket over you, watching your silly face nuzzle into its warmth. He felt stupid for doing it— growing grumpy over finding you so damn adorable. How could a weak little nuisance such as you manage to poke a hole through his stone heart? What a nuisance you where. But you were his nuisance.

With a sigh, he adjusts himself next to you, and you immediately cuddle upto this newly found source of warmth in your bed.

As you nestled closer to him, Sukuna carefully draped his arm around you, drawing you into a gentle embrace. It was an unexpected and uncharacteristic display of tenderness from the King of Curses, but in the stillness of the night, he couldn't help but acknowledge the powerful connection that had formed between you.

With a soft, almost inaudible whisper, he mumbled to himself, "You foolish girl, I should've never let you into my life." But despite his words, his actions spoke louder. Ryomen Sukuna would die a thousand deaths rather than ever say a, 'I love you', he knew that uttering those three words was beyond his capabilities, and it wasn't something he would ever admit to, even to himself.

And so decided to stay with you a little longer, guarding over your peaceful slumber. He knew that he was in too deep, that you had become an inseparable part of his life, even if he would never say those words. And yet, in the stillness of the night, his actions spoke louder than any such pathetic confessions.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna imagine #ruins posts #jjk x reader #just realised y/n slept with dirty hands lol #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff

[dragon-ascent]

You're thirsty and Morax is dense.

★彡suggestive, dumdum Morax (he doesn’t understand human nuances yet), bit of unneeded comfort

When your beloved Lord Morax approaches you after a day-long outing, you grin to yourself and lean against a pillar. Tonight you crave your newlywed husband.

"Ah, my lord," you sigh, jutting your chest out as dramatically (and as sexily) as possible. "Have you come to indulge in me?"

You bite your lip in delight when you hear your beloved Morax chuckle, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Why, yes I have, my darling." He takes your hand and kisses it ever so tenderly it makes you want to melt right there.

But you're not done yet - you close your eyes and bemoan, "Oh my, in the middle of war?"

See, you're expecting him to say, "Of course, my love. My desires wait for nothing - and I could use a moment of respite in you," and then he'd sweep you away to his private chambers and make the most of the night.

Which is why your eyes snap open in shock when you hear him instead say, "Ah, you're right. My desires can wait, can they not?" He lets go of you, his expression hardening like stone. "There is yet much to be done this moon cycle. Once the dust settles, we shall enjoy ourselves thoroughly, hm?"

Uttering this, and planting a firm kiss on your forehead, Morax turns and leaves, leaving you standing there sputtering.

----

You two convene for dinner together later in the evening, and you smile to yourself, cheeks heating up as you get ready to seduce him. "All this food is lovely, but I was wondering if you were craving something even better..."

Raising a brow, Morax sets down his chalice of wine. "Oh? And what does my beloved propose?"

Fidgeting in your seat, you let out a coy, "How about having me?"

But instead of sweeping aside the empty dishes and spreading you out on the table for dessert, your husband only tilts his head in concern. "My love, I know you have had your qualms about marrying the Prime of Adepti, but I assure you I do not consume human flesh."

You shrivel up like a prune as he pets you, lamenting that you'd even entertain such a frightening thought, reassuring you that he would never harm you like that.

----

A more direct approach is in order - but surely you can still be poetic in your methods, no? You're now sprawled in the bed you share with Morax, wearing your best night-garments.

Your god finally arrives, smiling as he sees you lounging comfortably in bed. When he joins you there, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and purrs softly, enjoying your warmth. You run your hand through his silky hair.

You let him stay like this for a bit before you speak. "After countless vicious battles for dominion, perhaps you and I could engage in a battle more...passionate."

"Darling!" His head snaps up to look at you worriedly, horns nearly poking you in the eye. "What makes you think I would ever fight you?"

You blink. "Er...no, I meant that-"

Morax cups your face tenderly. "There shall never come a time where the two of us are on opposing sides. Wherever you go, I follow. Never shall an arrow of mine fly in your direction."

"No no, listen, I-"

He's having none of it - he pulls your head onto his lap and strokes softly. "My wedding vows included my oath to protect you. I intend to keep that oath, darling, so please, perish the thought of a battle between us."

"Actually I meant that-"

Morax shakes his head, eyes lowered in sorrow. "I hope this thought of yours has only just blossomed, and had not taken root fourteen moons ago on our first night together when you witnessed a portion of my divine strength-"

"Okay fine! My apologies! It was just a silly notion! How about you just make love to me?!" "Oh, of course. If only you had asked sooner."

#sini writes #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #zhongli x you #drabble #rex lapis #morax #suggestive

[another-lost-mc]

@bizarrebankai asked:

husband!Lucifer would kiss your ring on your hand a lot and he'd kiss along your knuckles too 😔 like he'd just be sitting next to you or something and he'd look over at you on your phone and he'd see that shiny diamond flash and he'd grab your hand and kiss the finger and then your knuckles <3 and he'd just say stuff like, "My darling wife..." "The ring still looks so good on you..." raaudjffhskdbs

[ smutty follow-up because we can't be tamed ]

okay but like can we pleeeeease talk about sappy old man Luci for a sec?

➤ thinking about: Luci putting a ring on it

lucifer x gn!reader | sfw | tipsy wedding night fluff

he wants everything to be perfect for you, and your ring is no exception. he's not going to surprise you with a ring because he wants you to love the ring he slips onto your finger. he wants you to love it so much that you never want to take it off again. the devildom has master jewelcrafters he plans to consult later, but first he takes you to the human world so you can show him the styles you like or don't like. it's fascinating listening to you talk through your preferences. the things you wear are a reflection of you. in all the three realms, he's one of the lucky few that gets to understand why you like the things you do.

when he finally slips the ring onto your finger on your wedding day, you don't look shocked. you're not supposed to, because you designed it together. there are a few surprises he'll tell you about later, like the minor warding spells imbued into the precious stones, or the engraving etched into the inside of the band. the look on your face when you hold up your hand and admire the ring on your finger is nothing less than happy, loving contentment. he'll never forget this perfect moment.

after the wedding reception and far too much demonus, two of his brothers help you take him back to the house of lamentation. you changed out of your wedding attire before the party, but lucifer's still wearing his tux—or most of it, anyway. you're not sure where his bow tie is, and the buttons of his shirt collar are undone. his black-grey bangs are a little damp with sweat from feasting and drinking and dancing the night away together.

you shoo the others away and shake your head at your silly husband who sits on the edge of the bed and stares at you with the biggest grin on his face.

we're married.

yes we are.

how did I get so lucky?

his voice is so syrupy-sweet and you assume it's from the booze, but his bright ruby eyes shine with adoration like you're the most perfect, gorgeous thing he's ever seen.

you kneel at his feet to hide your own bashfulness and you slip the dress shoes off his feet. you pat his knee gently to let him know you're done, but he takes your hand and brings it to his mouth. he kisses your fingers, his half-lidded eyes lingering on the twinkling band of gems and metal around your finger.

mine, he murmurs happily, bringing your hand to his cheek and nuzzling into your palm with a sigh. his hand covers yours, and your own ring on his finger glints in the candlelight of his room.

yours.

#obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #obey me x reader #x reader #gn!reader

[babywll]

She's My Wife — Daemon Targaryen × F!Reader

summary: Daemon can be considered the rogue prince, cruel and greedy. But not when it comes to you

tws: enemies to lovers but he is already in lovers

LOOK AT THIS MAN

part 2 here

After the queen's death, your sister. You found yourself completely lost, and increasingly pressured to get married. You couldn't think straight, or at least give opinions to the candidates the king put forward. Viserys was being kind, even more so when he didn't send you away. You knew you would have to please him somehow.

Then as if everything had been completed, Daemon appeared, he was the king's first choice, who quickly made it all line up with the two of you betrothed.

You hated the idea, since Prince Daemon had his history, his long and terrible history. You believed you deserved better, but at that moment, you just agreed, you didn't want to be a burden to anyone. He was wanted, no doubt. Many women in the realm wanted to be in your shoes, and you tried to ignore Daemon's bad things.

You got married, and your niece presented you with the Dragonstone. It was a beautiful castle, and you could easily get used to it. Daemon was a mere detail. You assumed he'd be having a lot more fun with his dates and their silly fights. You assumed he wouldn't stay there, with you.

But he became present, and protective. He was always around, and you gradually grew closer. It was just you and him. At some point you stopped trying to pretend you didn't like him. He was quite loving when he wanted to be. And then you realized it was just like that with you.

You thought you'd never see Daemon, the same rogue prince everyone knew, giving you attention and being a great husband. Until four months together you had never touched again after marriage. You didn't get pregnant by choice and things went on with you married, you could maybe one day even become friends. The prince certainly had his means of satisfying himself, then it wouldn't be a problem.

You certainly wouldn't think that things would change, and that this marriage would actually turn into something more.

But you ignored all the signs. Or at least tried.

You had just finished your shower, and you were reading a book before getting ready for bed. You two used not to sleep in the same room, he made a point of asking you as soon you two moved to Dragstone. You decided it was unnecessary to share a room. Until the king found out about it, and sent a letter asking you about the decision. So you guys started sharing a room.

Daemon had been gone for ten days on a mission, you heard he came back in the morning, but so far you hadn't seen each other. The night already prevails for some hours, and none of it appears in your room.

You decided that you would finally check on him in his office. Which was where he was.

You walked the stone corridors with only a silk robe hiding your nearly transparent nightgown. You knocked on the door, and entered when you heard him say. His white hair fell down his neck, he had his head down, looking at papers.

"I thought I'd come see you," you said, and he finally looked in your direction.

Maybe it was just you, the candle lights could be getting in the way. But you were pretty sure you noticed the look he gave your body, he was slowly looking down from your eyes. You crossed your arms over your body. There was no reason, since he's already seen you naked, but still, it made you feel vulnerable.

"I am grateful for your last minute decision" he smiled slightly, and you rolled your eyes "I thought you were already asleep, I didn't want to wake you up so I spent more time here" he relaxed in the chair.

"I was waiting for you" you said, almost as if you were confessing.

A glint appeared in his eyes, he was surely just waiting for the moment when you showed something for him.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner" he got up from his chair and came over to you.

He ran one hand through your loose strand of hair, and you let your face rest on his other hand. Closing your eyes with the feelings of comfort he brought you.

Surrendering completely.

You then realized that you had missed him. You've spent the last few days walking around the castle and getting bored of your own company. He usually tell stories about his adventures, which stole all your attention.

"My beautiful wife" he whispered.

You felt his fingers run through your loose hair. And you felt a shiver run from your head to your feet.

"Did you miss me?"

You opened your eyes, meeting his. A smile hovered over his perfect face, and you felt completely lightened by the feeling he brought.

"Please don't stay away so long" you said softly. He had become a friend, maybe more, but it was something that made you feel good.

"I promise, I already told my brother that I will stay with my lovely wife from now on" his icy hands now cupped your face, and he gently brought his nose closer to yours. Touching it.

Your mouths were almost touching, and your breath was getting heavier with every second he threatened to kiss you. As if asking for permission. When you whispered a yes, he attacked you with a kiss. You reciprocated the same, desperate, completely desperate for his every touch.

And he played it, anyway. He touched your hair, neck, waist, thighs, and arms. Every millimeter he ran his fingers through. While kissing passionately. To some extent you had to stop to catch your breath.

"Let's go to our room.." he said low, but it was almost like a question.

You knew what that meant, and it was just everything you wanted, ever since you did it after the wedding. Daemon had an incredible ability when it came to satisfying, and you felt it in your body. You've had orgasms at least four times. And you've been wishing for it ever since, even if you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

"Wait, I need to know, how many have you slept with until today " you took your hands off him, and walked away. You wanted to know.

"How many?" he looked surprised, almost offended by you question "I would never sleep with another woman"

"Don't need to lie Daemon, this seems absurd even to you"

"I'm not lying love" he approached again, and looked deep into your eyes "You were the last I was in bed with, and every time I satisfied myself, it was thinking of you. So just blame me for not being a good husband, and not satisfying you as you deserve"

You were out of breath. You didn't want to think about anything else now, even the question you asked seemed stupid. You actually thought it strange that you hadn't heard any rumors about Daemon being with harlots. But you didn't think that maybe it's because he hasn't actually been.

And he was really telling the truth.

"Tell me what you want" he whispered, his eyes still riveted on you.

"I want you Daemon, always wanted" you confessed.

"You always had me, my dear" he kissed you again, and when he stopped it was to kiss the rest of your face.

"And yes, I want to go to our room" a corner smile appeared on his face, and you already knew that the rest would be even better than on your wedding day.

_

I'm too lazy to write smut, and this is definitely going to be part two. I didn't proofread so sorry for any mistakes.

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #fem reader #house of the dragon #house targaryen #prince daemon targaryen

[luveline]

Hello! Would it be alright to request something where prince!steve and his Princess attend their first formal event together?

tysm for requesting ♡ prince steve au

"Don't spill anything," Steve advises under his breath. "Your corset is alabaster." 

"I know. I feel like breathing the wrong way is gonna crack it like papier mache." 

He snorts, adjusting your hand on his arm to the correct position where you stand around a corner from the grand staircase. You wince as rich laughter bounces off the marble steps, the sound wrought with a feeling akin to hounds snapping at your heels. 

"Your nails look nice," Steve says. 

He's already complimented your face, your hair, and your dress. There's not much left to praise, but he finds something anyhow, and a flush of pleasure warms your skin. "Thank you," you say, looking down at your painted nails, a shimmering mother of pearl lacquer coating each one. The cost rivals a month's groceries. "They had so many colours… we started with red, but I thought it looked silly on me. My hands are weird." 

"Your hands are perfect." His eyes shine with sincerity, lips pulled into an amused smile that feels like a well-aimed bop to the chest. "I can get you more. Nail lacquer, I mean. There's a small Sri Lankan boutique by Cordelian House, they have all that intricate cosmetic stuff. It's where Munson gets his kohl sticks." He smiles at you reassuringly. "I'm trying to distract you. It's not working, is it?" 

"I'm going to mess up. Your mom– the queen–" 

"You can call her my mom. That's what she is." Steve nods his understanding of the things you've said without saying them. "She'll be disappointed if you mess up. But I won't be. I'm proud of you for even putting on the dress. I'd be proud of you if you didn't." 

You lick your lips, cherry balm sticky on the tip of your tongue. "Thank you, Steve." 

He says things like this with little regard for how forward it is. Not that subtlety is required. While antiquated in some aspects, the contemporary royal society is loudly lustful. You and Steve could be intimate together now weeks before the wedding and nobody would bat an eye, but you suspect that he's just as unprepared for that as you are, no matter how gently he covers your hand with his. 

There's a short sound like a bird call. Steve straightens his back, his thumb drawing a half circle across your fingers. "Ready?" he asks. 

You nod. You don't really have a choice. 

They announce you together, Prince Steven and his Soul Marked Y/N. It sounds ridiculous to hear his name after weeks of Please, call me Steve, or anything else but Steven. Doubly so to hear you announced as his and not yourself. A simple 'Miss' would have sufficed. Braced for a night of similar small agonies, you hold tight to Steve's arm and begin your descent down the grand staircase and into the foyer. The palace is a structure of white stone that shines silver in some lights, impossible walls of selenite and gauzy silks. The steps are more solid, a plain marble that clicks under the soles of your short heels. 

"Don't let me fall," you say under your breath, the hush of the crowd nearly occluding your voice completely. 

"Never." You can hear his polite smile. "Don't panic." 

You can't not panic, sweat at your naked collar, pearls like beads of ice bobbing with each step you take. The second you reach the floor you deflate with an exhale, your back clicking at the sudden decompression. There's a brief round of applause at your arrival before the cheery music begins anew, the dancing begins again, and the many faces that surround you blur into jewels and elegant clothes, fabrics coloured manilla white, snailshell purple, emerald green, a rainbow of satins swirling this way and that as girls are pushed into spins to the right of the foyer under the ballroom chandelier. 

"You'll dance with me, yeah?" Steve asks tentatively. 

You meet his eyes, all their soft brown gazing at you like you're worth his worry. His lashes twitch as his gaze darts swiftly down and up again. 

"Do I have something?" you ask, lifting your chin. 

"Lipstick. I can fix it?" He brings his hand to your lips before you've answered, using the trimmed nail of his pinky finger to wipe at your lip. You turn still as a porcelain statue, a shiver rushing down your chest at the warmth of his touch.

"You'll dance with me?" he asks again, his knuckle brushing your chin as he drops his hand. 

"Of course I'll dance with you, Steve. We're expected to." 

He throws a glance at the people around you and steps closer. "I want to dance with you because you want to dance. We don't have to do anything. Not this ball, not the dance. Not the wedding." He sighs. "You have choices." 

"No. I don't." Because there glows your wrist. Threads of translucency like spider web and downy feather combined, a sorry hue of blue. 

"Yes, you do," he whispers. "You want to leave? We'll leave right now. I just want you to be happy, and with me." 

You think about it. The weight of hundreds of eyes on your shoulders and the restriction of your corset is making you nauseous. If you left, that sickness would go. But Steve wouldn't get to dance with you.

"I don't want to leave," you say, not sure if you're lying or not. You'd quite like to have his hands on your hips again. And sometimes before the dip he breathes in your ear, says something soft, like Keep going, you got it. 

"No?" he asks, relieved. 

"No. Let's dance. We need the practice…" You offer your hand. He takes it, the smudge of lipstick on his pinky finger like a heart. "I'm sorry. I want to dance." 

"What are you sorry for?" he asks, leaning down to kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Let's dance. If you mess up, I'll mess up worse. I promise. I'll chicken dance in front of everybody." 

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[hispg]

Between royalty and vows

Pairings: Prince! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: A forced marriage, a fate set in stone, nothing could change that.

In the world of royalty, there were no choices, only obligations to fulfill. What you didn't expect was to become engaged to a renowned prince, ready to succeed the lineage.

Until that moment, you still had some hope that everything would work out, maybe it wasn't so bad. But it would be a shame if your future husband had a mistress.

Wouldn't it?

Wc:2.9k

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt/ comfort, cheating, arranged marriage, eventual smut, one-sided love, affairs, (I'll put more once things start to progress).

Prologue | 1 | 2 |

Chapter 2: Presence

"I suppose it's important, Prince." You say softly, straightening his epaulette, while Leon looked at himself in the mirror.

Today he was preparing for another of those tiresome meetings between royalty and merchants. One more of the king's deals had gone through.

He nods, giving you his attention, "Yes, indeed. My father wants me to learn about these businesses before I become king."

You didn't know if you'd heard too much or something, but he seemed genuinely overwhelmed and fatigued by it all.

"If it's any consolation, I'm cheering you on." You say in a sweet smile, giving it one last adjust on his epaulette, leaving it suitably refined.

The sun lit up the room, the gentle light brightening every corner of the room. Just as it illuminated your gentle, sweet features, the way you smiled at him. Or even the way you made a point of checking if he needed help with anything else.

So he looked at you with those sparkling blue eyes, giving you the attention you'd been waiting for for a few minutes.

"Thank you for your words, princess." Despite the cordiality, you felt that there was still a distance, which was a shame.

Even though you had already been in the castle for a few days, the formalities still continued: 'Prince', 'Princess', or even 'Your Highness'. Never by your first names, or by any other name. It might sound silly, but it was a reminder that this treatment would continue for a long time.

He was still so formal and serious with you, even though you had already been living together for a few days. And there was no sign of him changing, but maybe it was too soon, maybe you had to wait.

Or maybe you were just daydreaming.

Taking a final look at himself, and then taking the opportunity to look you up and down. He couldn't deny the way you were always well dressed. You were always so kind to him, always treated him well even when he was distant from you.

He'd be lying if he didn't say that was an admirable quality in you.

So elegant, charming even. As much as he tried not to care, he loved the smell of your cologne. Something soft that reminded him of wild roses.

He was so captivated by looking at the ornaments that adorned your neck that he couldn't help but inhale your fragrance once more, letting the soft scent that surrounded you enter his nostrils, making him feel the sweetness once more.

"You look elegant, prince." You encouraged him, wrapping your arm around his as he began to take small steps towards the door.

He gives you a simple smile, leading you through the bustling corridors with the various workers. Everyone was looking at the two of you, and whispers could be heard here and there.

You knew that in this meeting your presence was only decorative, just like all the other spouses of the other seniors who would be there. Not that it bothered you, since it could be considered a relief if you spent more time around Leon. Even if it was an obligation.

The walk was as silent as ever, only polite smiles were exchanged between you and Leon, nothing too intimate. Leon was completely uncompromising with you, if you were being sincere he barely noticed you when you were that close.

He would only do so if he was in a good mood, which wasn't very often since he was always grumpy. And being close to you often made his mood worse.

However, you could see that he was trying, but the eyes don't lie. It wasn't hard to disguise the fact that he wasn't so much fond of you. Maybe it was just an annoyance and that would change with time, at least that's what you hoped.

It only took a few minutes for the two of you to reach the main hall, where you were greeted by all kinds of important guests. Even some you hadn't even seen in person.

Nothing more than the usual courtesies, pleasantries about the upcoming wedding and the union of the kingdoms, which was in fact the most important thing. In other words, what had made the whole situation happen.

After the proper introductions, you and Leon, along with the other guests, went to the room where the meeting was to take place, a spacious place that had been properly prepared for the occasion.

Soon the meeting began, with nothing but the usual fallacies and promises of the Kingdom's future prosperity.

Nothing you and Leon hadn't heard before, but you both knew that this was nothing more than a reinforcement of the future marriage.

That's because Leon's father always looked at him as he spoke, always made a point of leaving the word to his son every chance he got. He wanted to show his son's honor and pride

He needed to show all this to everyone present.

And even though Leon didn't like being the center of attention, he couldn't say no to his father, because unfortunately he was still following his father's orders.

After a few incessant hours, the meeting ended, with a certain exhaustion on the part of those present. After the farewells, which also seemed never-ending, you two headed down the corridors, approaching the stairs to go to your chambers.

As you walked slowly, you noticed the tired look on Leon's face, as he appeared to be completely drained.

"You did well, prince." You said in a sweet whisper, giving him an approving smile.

And then that was enough for him to look at you, giving you a brief smile, but one that never failed to make your heart flutter.

"Your presence was important, Your Highness." These could have been simple words, but you felt your knees weaken with them.

You chuckled, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks.

Just as you were about to go upstairs, Leon's father called out to him from a distance, apparently wanting to talk to him about something personal.

You only heard a sigh come from Leon's lips, who then left you on the stairs to go on your way.

"I'll see you at dinner time." He says calmly, as he takes your covered hand and kisses the back of it. This time letting his lips linger there a little longer.

You get giddy every time he does that, your mind gets all messed up just feeling his lips like that.

With a charming smile, he bids you a courteous farewell and heads off in the direction of his father.

As soon as you walked the long stairs, you went straight to your bedroom, ready for a warm, comfortable bath before dinner.

But before you entered your room, something caught your eye. One of the maids was carrying a bouquet of flowers to Leon's room, and if you were being honest, the maid was in quite a hurry to carry the flowers.

From the way she was trying to sneak into Leon's room to put the flowers there, you could tell it was suspicious at best.

So you decided to go after the girl, to ask what she was doing. Slowly you approached, taking care not to alarm the woman or even make a fuss about it.

But even so, the young woman seemed to notice you, and unconsciously hid the bouquet behind her back in a clumsy way, as if to prevent you from seeing anything.

"Your Highness…" She stammered, trying to keep her composure and not get so nervous. Which failed if you were being honest.

You could see the apprehension in her wide eyes, just as her hands were shaking. What was so special about those flowers?

You nod, looking at her gently, "I imagine you're quite busy. You're in such a hurry."

You speak softly, just to level the waters, and even to appear unpretentious. She stuttered, only affirming with her head that she was in a hurry, not even trying to get into Leon's room.

"I… I was just passing by. I need to take these." She says, holding the flowers tightly, still in the same failed attempt to hide them from you.

You were about to ask one more question, but your eyes focused on a small piece of paper that had fallen to the floor, and looking at it you could tell it was a letter.

It wasn't long before you bent down and picked it up, holding it between your fingers. You didn't dare read it yet, because you already knew what it was about.

"Your Highness, this,—" You interrupt her discreetly, straightening your posture.

"I'm your highness, I don't suppose you have to hide anything from me," you then whispered, moving closer and standing in a spot where only you and she could hear each other, "Unless you're doing something wrong."

You didn't want to sound authoritative, but you just wanted to show a little sovereignty. You weren't going to let it go, under your nose was already too much.

"No, no princess." She says dimly, starting to get even more freaked out.

You didn't say much longer, your anxiety to read what was written on that letter was slowly eating away at you, and you had an overwhelming desire to find out what was there.

"Allow me." You whisper, gently taking the flowers from her hand. Carrying the bouquet in your arms.

Fresh lilies, just picked. They were kind of purplish in color, and smelled amazing. They were definitely beautiful.

The maid even tried to protest, but you dismissed her with a wave of your hand, heading for Leon's chambers. You soon entered the room, which was honestly not new to you, and you quickly closed the door behind you.

Once the silence hung in the air, you took a deep breath, looking at the flowers and the letter in your hand. And so you decided to look for a vase to put the delicate lilies in, and it wasn't hard to find, given the variety of things in Leon's room.

As soon as you placed the vase with the flowers next to Leon's bed, you decided it was time to read the letter in your hands.

The paper was all decorated, with beautiful calligraphy, as well as a few little hearts here and there. Certainly the kind of letter that lovers would exchange.

'Your favorites, handpicked. To the sweet prince, Leon. -A

You knew that this was supposed to be something intimate and that you shouldn't even be reading it, but even though it was such a subtle message, it still showed how close these two were.

Your lips trembled as you felt your vision blur. How complicated were things getting?

You even tried to push these thoughts away, thinking that maybe you were just thinking too much. But how could you do that?

How were you supposed to act as his second choice, even though you were the woman he was going to marry?

You froze once all your thoughts stopped and focused on the voice that called out to you from across the room.

"Your Highness? What are you doing here?" Leon's tone was low, as if he was completely serious and sharp with you.

You turned around, taking a deep breath and controlling your emotions, giving the sweetest, most polite smile you could manage at that moment.

"They're for you, prince." You say with a smile, as if you weren't aware of anything. The flowers weren't the first thing he focused on.

At the same moment you saw the color fade from his face, it became pale, almost the color of paper. For a split second you saw an expression of fear and surprise come over him.

His eyes widened and he took a small step towards you, but stopped at the same moment. You could even see his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed dryly, his body stiffening.

Did he really think he was hiding this secret well? How innocent it would be to think so. If the rest of the kingdom knew, why shouldn't you?

He wasn't very good at disguising it, in fact. What was he supposed to say? Wasn't it too obvious? Surely you wouldn't miss it, at least you already knew what it was about.

You moved closer to the flowers that you yourself had put in a vase, bringing your nose closer so that you could smell the lilies.

"They smell good, whoever sent it, they have great taste." You say calmly, arranging the flowers in the vase once again.

You could feel your hands starting to shake slightly, something about what you were doing didn't feel right.

But what else could you do? Maybe it was daring, but you couldn't help yourself.

Nobody liked being cheated on.

He opened his mouth for a few seconds, thinking of anything he could say.

But all that came out was a weak, 'Oh'. Before he approached you and took a look at the flowers that were there.

His fingertip brushed lightly against one of the flowers, looking at them with a certain tenderness. He obviously knew who it was from, or rather, who had sent him these flowers.

It was clearer than day.

"My mother probably sent one of the maids to buy these fresh flowers." He manages to stutter after a while, unable to face you fully.

His mother? What a lame excuse, you think.

You take a few more steps across the room, the sound of your heels echoing through the large room. You didn't even make a point of hiding the suspicious expression forming on your face.

You were quick to grab the small letter before he saw it, before he had even arrived in the room. You already knew, and you also knew that he wouldn't admit it.

However, you had proof in your hands, certainly an affair outside of the marriage relationship would not go down well with royalty, even more so coming from a renowned prince like him.

You simply had the perfect weapon in your hands, ready to be used any time you needed it. Not that you were going to do it now, you didn't even want to have to do it at some point.

However, you did have something useful in case you needed it. You didn't want to take any rash action that you might regret.

"I'll have those flowers put somewhere else,—" You interrupted him, looking at him with a gentle, sweet smile, as if you weren't tearing up inside.

"No need, I think it looks nice here." You murmured, taking the opportunity to smell the sweet scent of the flowers once again

The tension was palpable, the heavy atmosphere that soon formed in that room. Every gesture showed the unease that had formed, your lips trembled and you pressed them tightly together so as not to let anything show

But he noticed, he noticed the way your fists were clenched and that you were trembling slightly, as well as the drop of water forming in the corner of your eyes.

He knew that you might have suspected something, but what could he do? There was nothing he could say or do that would comfort you in any way.

It was as cruel for you as it was for him.

You exchanged silent but strangely meaningful glances, as if you were playing a game of chess.

The flowers and the letter became symbols of a game of appearances, where every gesture hid secrets that could dismantle the façade of a royal marriage.

And you both knew it, after all it was a game that only two could play, and you were both learning and understanding how this game would work.

It was certainly even worse in practice, but there was nothing you could do about it. Even more so, Leon was looking at the flowers in a somewhat puzzled way, but at the same time there was a certain gleam in his eye.

He couldn't hide that body language. Not even if he tried.

"If you wish, the flowers stay." He broke the silence, staring at you with that cold, penetrating gaze that was so mesmerizing.

You nodded, making a point of putting the flowers on the shelf next to his bed, acting as if you weren't interested or uncommitted to the whole thing.

God, you felt yourself breaking every time you looked at the petals, at the smell that wafted through the room.

"If the prince will excuse me, I'll go to my chambers." You said with the same sweet smile, bowing to him and leaving his room.

All you had in your ears was the sound of your heels clacking against the floor as you moved lightly to your own room.

Leon didn't say a word, he didn't even walk you to your usual bedroom door. You didn't know if it was anger or surprise, perhaps because he hadn't imagined that you would act so calmly.

Even though he could sense that you were hurt.

In the end, appearances would be kept up, even if the night had been stormy. One step at a time, day after day.

There was no such thing as a sad day in royalty, so you could already prepare your smile for the next day.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #re leon #resident evil leon

[ceruleancattail]

Frigid

Malleus x reader

Tw: Yandere

It was cold.

The wind howled against the windows, like mournful wolves. Rattling the windows frames furiously, a relentless attack. Emerald flames flicker on the walls, torches set ablaze. As must as they illuminated the room with an eerie, green light, they did little to warm you.

Your hands were trembling now, the very tips of your fingers shaking like a lone leaf tossed into a storm. At the mercy of the whims of a force much greater than you were…

Which wasn’t far off from what was happening now.

Clutching at your chest, you curl further into yourself. Trying to preserve whatever bare fragments of warmth that your body still had. Trying to stave off the chill that was now gnawing into your skin, slipping into your very bones. You swear you could feel your blood freezing, frost creeping all over every crevice it could touch.

As you gritted your teeth, you could hear a chuckle. Your fingers tighten around your shoulders, digging faint, pale streaks across your skin. That laugh chilled you to the bone, sending an ice-cold dread, racing down your spine.

You glance to the source of the laugh. A pair of emerald eyes peer back at yours, twinkling with amusement. Malleus Draconia, leaning back into the bed rest. He seems unperturbed by the cold, choosing to stare at you instead. You would have loved to see some sadistic gleam in his gaze, something ugly and cruel. It’ll make your torture much easier to bear, if you had something to bare your teeth at. Someone to hate, someone to blame.

Yet there was nothing of that sort in Malleus’ gaze. Only a patronising sort of amusement that comes from someone watching a rather silly pet. It was sickeningly sweet, much like the sort of cloying artificial syrup that clung onto your throat long after it was swallowed.

Gently, he reaches towards you. Hand resting onto your shoulder, stroking downwards ever so slowly. Despite yourself, you let out a breathy sigh at the feeling of something warm touching your skin. Something that wasn’t the bitter cold, skating over your body.

Reluctantly, you unfurl yourself. Slowly edging closer towards Malleus like a wary animal. He lets you approach, the ghost of a satisfied smirk dancing across his lips. The smile of the victor, looking down at the opponent who never had a chance.

A weight presses into your torso. Malleus’ arms snake around you, coaxing you closer. Until you were curled up on his chest, your head tucked into the curve of his shoulder. Satisfied with himself, Malleus allows himself a brief chuckle, before his voice drops into a low hum. A lullaby, from his days as a young fae. A comforting melody that has been passed through generations. His voice echoes off the stone walls, engulfing you like a huge, soft blanket.

He held you there, rubbing slow, gentle circles into your back. His touch was loving, affectionate even.

Tender.

You couldn’t help but wonder what you two looked like, from an outsider’s perspective. Two lovers perhaps, intertwined with each other. Would this be a sweet moment of affection between a couple? A lovely little scene? Maybe if you pretended it was, things would be easier for you, as a captive.

If you tried hard enough, you could even forget the fact that Malleus was the one who summoned the blizzard in the first place.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus #malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus #yandere malleus x reader #protection potion ♦️ #inspired by the diasonmia chapter where this lizard is strong enough to influence the weather with his moods #he’s gonna make you alllll chilly if you insist on being so cold to him :((( #so you’ll have no choice but to give him allll the hugs he wants! #the best part is he’ll do it without a single hint of malice #horrible man

[hopelessromantic5]

Arthur isn’t exactly stealthy when he sees something he likes.

Those who had known Arthur for most of his life also know that when something captures his attention, that’s it.

It takes over everything.

First, at five, it was horse back riding. He would spend all day in the stables, learning everything he could about the majestic beasts. He would ride as often as his father allowed.

Then when he joined the official knights in training at eight summers, he became thirsty for success. He wanted to be the best, unbeatable.

And so, he was. He became a well sharpened blade neatly tucked into his father’s arsenal.

Nothing came close to his love for a sword until he was thirteen, and he met a girl named Druella. Dru was the younger sister of one of Arthur’s fellow knights, yet still a few years ahead of him.

He would watch her walk to and from town, every day, thinking how beautiful she looked in her finery, how her hair was always perfect, never one out of place.

This love lasted the least amount of time, because while Arthur claimed to himself that he loved her, he’d never actually spoken to her.

When he finally got up the nerve to introduce himself, and she did nothing but sneer at him and walk away, he finally let his silly little crush rest in the dirt under his riding boots.

Years went by. The citizens of Camelot and especially the staff of the castle, continued to watch Arthur grow and mature and come into his own thoughts. His own beliefs.

Still, dancing with his sword held the biggest place in his heart.

That was until a fateful day in beautiful spring time.

There were some familiar faces in the square that day, watching on as a boy intervened with the Prince’s ridiculous bullying.

First, they were thankful for it.

And then they all witnessed the moment Prince Arthur laid eyes on this boy, and that was it.

They’d seen it before, and this was no different.

Arthur Pendragon had found a new obsession.

Uther didn’t know what he was signing the entire kingdom up for when he bestowed Merlin with such a privilege as being the prince’s manservant. He probably thought nothing on it, as often as Arthur fired manservants, surely this one will be gone faster than the others.

Boy, was he mistaken.

Arthur lied to himself about it for some time. Acting as if his servant was the worst he’d ever seen, or how he hated to have to show this boy how to do something simple.

What betrayed him were his eyes, they followed Merlin everywhere in the room. Watching him do every task, standing to aid when it was needed, even if it came with a huff of exasperation for show.

Everyone could see it. Hell, even Leon caught onto it. The only people who had yet to realize were the prince himself, and the boy. Merlin. He was as oblivious to Arthur’s eyes as Arthur was to Merlin’s sickeningly sweet face when the prince’s back was turned.

Merlin was usually very observant.

But when it came to Arthur, he had a blind spot.

Perhaps this is why Arthur found out the big secret a few weeks after Merlin arrived in Camelot.

He’d made a habit of entering his room quietly, so he might see Merlin without being seen himself. Though, Arthur doesn’t acknowledge that’s the reason, it definitely is.

This particular day, practice ended early on account of the storm rolling in. Tiny drops of water were already covering the ground, packing the dirt into stone.

As he silently entered his own chambers, he heard humming. Knowing it must be Merlin. Who else would be in his room humming?

The Prince stayed partially hidden by the chest of drawers nearest the door. Merlin was putting tunics away in the cupboard. His hands were gentle with them, like they were precious. Even if he did it in a bit of a hurry, seemingly.

Merlin must’ve felt a draft or remembered the rain, because he stopped his humming turning to the fire place, and without lifting a single finger or uttering a word, he lights the fire.

By looking at it.

Arthur first thought his sight deceived him but there was no denying that he’d just seen Merlin’s eyes turn gold. A blinding golden light that can only come from something divine.

The Prince tries to even out his breathing so as not to give away his presence. It’s not that he’s fearful, merely caught off guard, which he tried never to be. Arthur was almost a grown man, and he’d met people in his time that told him he could be different than Uther. He could rule a different Kingdom.

And maybe that all starts with this strange boy that fell from the sky into Arthur’s world.

The Prince had hardly seen Merlin do anything with that kind of skill or confidence. Arthur had been around enough dark sorcerers to know that even the powerful ones need words, crystals, a big book with lots of words he can’t read.

Merlin had done this like it was nothing.

Just how powerful was he?

#merthur #merlin #merlin and arthur #merthur fic #arthur pendragon #obsessive Arthur #oblivious Merlin #from the drafts