#Her dream is to open a tavern!
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
An old-ish D&D character of mine, longest campaign I ever played!
#alcoholic barbarian centaur my beloved#kai'tara#dnd#d&d#She was 17 when I played her#but I since aged her up post-campaign to mid-twenties#Her dream is to open a tavern!#she thought she was lesbian but realized she was bi upon meeting a twink#that twink was playing by my current partner. before we were dating. i dont know where my decision to flirt with their character came from#but is sure happened and now it's funny <3#there are a lot of typos in these tags but i'm sure y'all can figure it out heh
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
GRIEF ASIDE (1/4) | MV33
summary : You fancied your fiancé, you realized with horror. Oh, God. You fancied your fiancé.
wc : 13k
an : this took.. a while ☹️ anyway
For as long as you could remember, you had been engaged to Max Emilian, scion of House Verstappen.
On paper, it was a triumphant match, a union to secure your house's fortunes for generations. To be betrothed to the son of a duke was a dream most could only aspire to.
Yet, no one envied House Button’s lovely heiress.
Instead, the court pitied you.
Jos Verstappen, your future father-in-law and Duke of the North, was a name steeped in infamy. Known as the Butcher of the North, his reputation was as frigid and cruel as the land he ruled. Whispers of his war crimes haunted corridors, and songs of lament cursed his name in taverns.
To marry into such a legacy meant tying yourself to shadows you could never escape.
But duty had bound you to this path as tightly as the chill of the northern wind now clung to your skin.
Raised to bridge alliances and strengthen bonds, you had no illusions about the weight of your role.
Now, you stood before the towering iron gates of the Verstappen estate, carriage behind you, your wool cloak and one of your knight’s heavy coats offered little respite from the North’s unforgiving cold.
“Keep your chin up, my lady,” Lily murmured beside you, adjusting the trunk she carried, her voice nearly drowned by the howling wind. Her cheeks were flushed from the frost, and her attempts at reassurance felt as thin as your cloak.
You nodded mutely, clenching your chattering teeth. Complaining about her poor preparation, or your shared underestimation of the northern winter, would achieve little.
The gates groaned open, revealing the sprawling estate beyond.
The fortress-like walls loomed high, their grey stone stark against the snow-laden landscape. Narrow windows glinted like ice shards under the weak winter sun.
Smoke curled lazily from the distant stables, a muted sign of life in an otherwise bleak expanse.
“Cheerful place,” Lando muttered behind you, his voice dry. He pulled his hood lower, trying to shield his face from the biting wind.
“More like a tomb,” Oscar replied, tone low. His eyes scanned the walls warily, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
Crossing the threshold of the estate, you were greeted by a cavernous main hall that carried little more warmth than the outdoors. Though a fire crackled at one end, its heat barely touched the far corners of the room.
The scent of pine mingled with the cold tang of iron, likely from the spiked chandelier that loomed overhead, casting jagged shadows across the floor.
“Presenting Lady (Y/N) of House Button,” the steward announced, his voice echoing up the vaulted ceilings.
The words washed over you, irrelevant compared to your struggle to stop trembling. The knight closest to you, Oscar, shifted closer, his presence a silent bulwark, but you scarcely noticed.
A figure descended the grand staircase, drawing your attention despite the icy haze clouding your mind.
Max Emilian Verstappen.
He moved with a grace that could only be borne from years of court presence, strides measured and deliberate yet still managing to not look stiff.
Pale hair neatly combed, save for a few strands that fell across his forehead, softening the otherwise hard edges of his face. His broad shoulders were draped in a heavy black coat lined with fur, swallowing what little light the room offered.
You had heard tales of him: a skilled warrior, an even better horseman, and a temper so fierce people began claiming the Verstappen rage was a hereditary trait.
His eyes fell on you then, surprise flickering across his face before being quickly replaced by a furrowed brow and the unmistakable air of annoyance.
“Gods,” he muttered under his breath, his tone cold enough to make you flinch.
You stiffened, unsure whether to speak or remain silent.
Was that usually how the Northern Lords greeted their betrothed?
Max’s eyes roved over you, taking in your trembling form, pale cheeks, and the inadequate cloak clutched around your shoulders.
His frown deepened, and he turned sharply toward your knights, his expression hardening.
“Why in the seven hells is she dressed like this?” he demanded.
Sir Lando bristled but maintained his composure. “My lady insisted, Lord Verstappen, that we keep ourselves alive. We offered additional layers-”
“She’s half-frozen. Who cares if you're alive if your Lady is dead?” Max cut him off, already shrugging out of his own coat.
You opened your mouth to protest, to insist you were fine, but before you could utter a word, he was draping the fur-lined garment over your shoulders.
The residual warmth from his body enveloped you, burying you under the scent of pine and leather.
“Your stubbornness will kill you,” he muttered, crouching slightly to adjust the coat. His tone was still sharp, but his hands were steady and careful as they brushed over you.
You glanced at Lily, who hovered nearby, her eyes darting between you and Max. “Fetch tea,” Max ordered, voice brooking no argument.
She hesitated, clearly unsure whether to take orders from a person who was decidedly not her Lady, but a sharp look from him sent her scurrying away.
Max turned back to you, his expression unreadable as his hand brushed over your elbow, guiding you forward. “Sit,” he gestured to the high-backed chair closest to the hearth.
You sank into the seat gratefully, abandoning the appearance of grace in lieu of the warmth of the fire and the heavy coat easing the worst of your shivers.
Max crouched before you, his face illuminated by the flickering light. “You were standing in the cold far too long,” he said, softer now as though talking to an injured bird.
“I didn’t realize…” you started, but your voice faltered.
Max’s lips quirked in a faint, reluctant smile. “Not even when you were shivering like a leaf?”
He leaned back, regarding you for a moment before adding, “The North will swallow you whole.”
His words should have stung, but you found it hard to be insulted for there was no malice in them, only a hint of amusement.
The tea arrived swiftly, Lily handing it to you with a pinched expression, steam curling from the delicate porcelain as if reluctant to break the stillness of the hall.
You wrapped your frozen fingers around the cup, savoring the way the heat kissed your skin, thawing the numbness in your fingers.
Max walked to stand a few paces away, matching your knight and maid's distance, watching you with a detached sort of interest, his arms still crossed over his chest.
The flickering firelight carved sharp angles along his face, illuminating the high cut of his cheekbones and the stern set of his jaw.
“You look better now.” His voice was quieter this time. “At least you have some color in you.”
You weren’t sure if that was meant to be a kindness or merely an observation, but you offered a polite nod regardless.
“Thank you, my Lord.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Max will do.”
The correction startled you. Men of his station, sons of dukes especially, rarely made such allowances. Betrothed or not.
“As you wish… Max.”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it vanished just as quickly.
“I imagine you have questions.”
Of course, you did.
Too many, and yet none seemed appropriate to ask.
You had spent years preparing for this union in theory, but now that you were standing on the threshold of it, the rehearsed words died in your throat.
“Only a few,” you said carefully.
He hummed, a noncommittal sound. “Then ask.”
You hesitated. “Your father… the Duke… is he here?”
Max’s expression cooled.
“No. My father is at the border fortresses, inspecting the garrisons. He will return before the winter feast to welcome you.”
Relief and dread tangled in your chest. It was a reprieve not to face Duke Jos immediately, but you knew it was temporary at best.
“And your father will be joining us soon enough as well, won’t he?” Max’s tone was unreadable, though something sharp glinted beneath it.
You nodded. “Yes. My father will come north after his duties are finished. To meet with the Duke and… formalize the engagement.”
The words felt heavy on your tongue. This visit wasn’t just a quiet retreat to adjust to your future home. It was a public commitment. Before long, the entire North would know you belonged to him.
You dreaded what that would do to your public image.
Max’s jaw tightened although his expression remained carefully distant. “Of course.”
He turned slightly, gaze sweeping the cold stone hall.
“You’ll find the North is not like the South. Comfort is scarce, and the people scarcer. They will not warm to you easily.”
His words felt more like a warning than a courtesy.
“I don’t expect them to.”
That seemed to surprise him. Perhaps he had been expecting you to be one of those Southern ladies that demanded everyone to bend over backwards for their comfort.
His eyes flicked back to you, studying you in a way that made you want to shrink under his coat.
“Good.”
The fire cracked loudly, sending a shower of sparks upward. Max tilted his head toward it, the flicker of light catching in his pale hair.
“You’ll need to adjust quickly. My father won’t tolerate weakness in his house.”
“And you?” The question slipped out before you could stop it.
Max’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes hardened.
“I won’t coddle you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
It wasn’t. But the way he said it made your stomach twist.
Still, you straightened your spine. “I wouldn’t ask for that.”
A tense silence settled again, though this time, it felt more contemplative than cold.
Max’s gaze drifted from you to the door behind you.
“You must be tired from the journey. I’ll have your rooms prepared.”
“I thought we would stay in the west wing,” you said, recalling the arrangements made in the letters exchanged between your families.
Max’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“The west wing is being repaired. Storm damage. You’ll stay closer to the main hall until it’s finished.”
It was a small thing, perhaps, yet it unsettled you.
The west wing was meant to be yours. A space to adjust quietly, away from the imposing grandeur of the estate.
Now, you were being denied that distance.
But what could you do? Refuse? Argue?
“Very well,” you said softly.
Max nodded once then turned to the waiting steward.
“Have the rooms near the library prepared. And make sure the fires are lit.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Oscar and Lando approached then, boots scuffing against the stone floor as they stopped just shy of your side.
Their eyes darted toward you, assessing your posture, searching for some silent confirmation that you were unharmed.
You gave them a small nod, and the tension in Oscar’s broad shoulders seemed to ease, though Lando’s hand remained near the hilt of his sword, his body coiled like a spring.
Max’s sharp gaze swept over the two knights, his expression unreadable but undoubtedly calculating.
“Your people will stay nearby,” he said, his voice firm but unhurried. “Your maid is not to wander without escort. Your men may walk around but not too far from the fortress. I'd rather not deal with the politics of a Southern knight dying in my land.”
Lily bristled at the casual remark, her cheeks coloring with indignation. “We Southerners aren't as fragile as you seem to think,” she said sharply, her words cutting the silence like a knife.
“Lily,” Oscar said quietly, catching her arm before she could step forward. His grip was gentle but firm, head shaking in a silent plea for restraint.
Max didn’t even flinch at her outburst, his cool demeanor unwavering as his gaze flicked back to you.
“Your people are bold.” His tone was tinged with something akin to amusement. “Let’s hope they’re wise enough to temper it.”
“They’re loyal,” you replied evenly, meeting his eyes without faltering. “I wouldn’t have brought them otherwise.”
“Loyalty is admirable but it doesn’t mean much if it gets you killed.”
Lando shifted beside you, jaw tight. “With all due respect, my lord,” he began without much respect at all. “We’re more than capable of keeping her safe.”
“I’m sure you believe that.” Max’s gaze settled on Lando. “But I’ve seen capable men bleed out on these stones for lesser causes. My rules are for your protection as much as mine.”
Lando’s grip on his sword tightened, but Oscar’s hand on his shoulder stilled him.
“We’ll abide by your rules,” Oscar confirmed, voice calm.
“Good.” Max turned back to you. “Come. I’ll show you the library. You should know where it is if you’re to live here.”
The offer caught you off guard. The scion of House Verstappen switched conversations so casually he seemed to slap you with his casualness.
“The library?”
“You can’t spend all your time staring at the snow,” Max replied evenly, though there was a faint lilt to his words.
Was that… humor? It was hard to tell with him.
“Well..” You tugged your coat tighter. “It is very captivating snow.”
Max’s brow arched. “And yet, I think you’ll survive without it for an hour.”
You blinked, taken aback by the dry remark.
Was he… teasing you?
Shaking off the ridiculous thought, you rose from your chair, trailing behind as he turned and strode toward the door.
You glanced at your companions, giving them a small and, hopefully, reassuring smile before stepping forward to follow Max.
Max’s pace was long, purposeful, and you found yourself scrambling to keep up without looking breathless.
(You decidedly ignored Sir Lando's small snort of laughter.)
The manor was a labyrinth of cold stone and dim corridors, the walls lined with tapestries dulled by age.
Shadows flickered where sparse torches burned, giving the place a haunted sort of stillness.
You found it hard to ever imagine yourself calling this place home.
Max moved through the halls like someone who had been shaped by this place, his presence carved into the very bones of the estate.
His stride was confident, measured, purposeful.
You, on the other hand, felt like an outsider, a stranger, each step heavy on the cold stone floor.
Finally, Max stopped before a pair of massive oak doors, their wood darkened with age. He didn’t look back at you as he spoke, his voice low, but managing to carry through the quiet hall.
“Your men stay outside. Your maid may enter,” he said, the command clear.
Your knights exchanged a brief look.
Lando’s lips curled into a smirk, clearly less than thrilled with the command. He let out a sigh, posture straightening with a resigned huff.
With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he moved to one side of the door, giving a theatrical bow as though he were playing a part in some grand performance.
Oscar shook his head but followed suit, taking his place at the other side, hands clasped with a more restrained expression.
Lando’s voice broke the silence, dripping with mock sweetness. “Enjoy the library, my Lady. Try not to get too lost in there.”
You laughed, unable to contain yourself and bid them a silent goodbye.
Without another word, he pushed the doors open, the hinges groaning in protest, and led you and Lily inside.
The library was vast and dim, lined wall-to-wall with shelves that stretched high into the shadows above.
Dust motes floated lazily in the beams of light filtering through the narrow, arched windows, painting the room in shades of gold and gray.
You inhaled deeply, the scent of aged paper and polished wood filling your senses.
“It’s beautiful…” you breathed, the words slipping out unbidden.
“It is,” Max replied, stepping farther into the room. “And it’s yours to use as I allow while you’re here.”
You followed him in, your fingers brushing the spines of the books closest to you. They were thick and heavy, their titles embossed in faded gold.
“Are these… first editions?” you asked, your voice hushed, as if speaking too loudly might awaken some slumbering beast.
“Many of them, yes,” Max said, his gaze sweeping the shelves as if cataloging them in his mind. “You’ll find original prints of histories, poetry, philosophy. Most of it quite rare. Some of the works were commissioned specifically for this collection.”
“Commissioned?” you echoed, eyebrows lifting in surprise.
He nodded. “Yes. House Verstappen has always valued knowledge. There are some volumes here you won’t find anywhere else.”
You let your hand fall from the books and turned to face him. “You must spend a lot of time here then.”
“Not as much as I should,” he admitted, his tone crisp. “But I’m familiar with the layout. If you’re planning to lose yourself, I can point you in the right direction.”
The corner of your mouth quirked up at his phrasing. “Lose myself?”
“It happens.” He shrugged, glancing away.
You laughed softly. “Is that your way of warning me?”
“A mere suggestion,” he corrected, his lips twitching in what might have been the hint of a smile. “Start with the poetry under the windows. It’s a good place for… wandering minds.”
“Poetry under the windows,” you repeated the words under your breath, glancing toward the far end of the room where a faint glow spilled across the shelves. “Any other recommendations?”
“The histories on the east wall are worth your time.” He gestured briefly. “And if you’re feeling adventurous, there’s a collection of letters on the upper mezzanine. They’re in French, though.”
“I can manage French,” you said with a small smile.
His eyebrow arched faintly. “Good. Then you’ll also find some rather colorful accounts of court scandals tucked in the back corner. A few are probably embellished, but they’re entertaining nonetheless.”
Your laughter came easier this time. “Court scandals? I didn’t expect you to recommend something so… frivolous.”
“Frivolity has its place,” he said dryly. “Just don’t let the staff catch you reading them. They might talk.”
“Noted.” You attempted to suppress your grin.
For a moment, the two of you stood in companionable silence, the quiet weight of the library wrapping around you like a cloak. You turned back to the shelves, running your fingertips lightly over the spines once more.
“This is incredible,” you murmured.
You glanced over your shoulder at his lack of a response, catching a faint glimmer of something softer in his eyes, though it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.
Max seemed to compose himself, clearing his throat. “You will be fetched come dinner time.”
The heavy doors of the library groaned shut behind him, leaving you and Lily in the cavernous stillness.
As soon as the sound of his footsteps faded, Lily let out a sharp exhale, breaking the silence. “I thought he’d never leave,” she muttered, her voice pitched low but urgent.
You turned to her, startled by her tone. “Lily-”
“He’s impossible to read!” she interrupted, her hands gesturing animatedly as she paced a small circle near the door.
“One moment, he’s scowling like the world owes him something, and the next, he’s… he’s practically pointing you toward the best books for a cozy evening! What am I supposed to make of that?”
You blinked, caught between amusement and exasperation. “I don’t think it’s meant to be deciphered, Lily.”
“But it should be!” she shot back, stopping abruptly to face you. “You’re supposed to marry him. How are you supposed to live with someone who switches moods faster than the weather?”
“I don’t think he’s as unpredictable as you think,” you said cautiously, though you weren’t entirely convinced of your own words. “He’s… reserved.”
“Reserved?” Lily snorted. “He looks like he’s trying not to bite anyone’s head off half the time.” She softened slightly, adding, “Although, I’ll admit, it was nice of him to show you this place.”
Her eyes wandered around the library, her earlier frustration melting into a quieter awe. “It really is something, isn’t it?”
You nodded, letting your gaze sweep the towering shelves. “It is. I could lose hours in here.”
“Maybe you’ll have to,” Lily said, her tone lighter now. “If he’s not going to be forthcoming about himself, you might have to dig through the history books to figure him out. Perhaps you'll even find a diary of his.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I think even the books might not have the answers to that mystery.”
Lily gave you a sly grin. “Well, if anyone can figure him out, my lady, it’s you.”
With a roll of your eyes, you turned back to the shelves. “My betrothed's dour personality aside.. help me find that poetry section he mentioned.”
Lily smiled, stepping closer to follow you deeper into the quiet sanctuary of the library.
“Of course, my lady.”
—
Hours later, as the manor stirred for the evening meal, a servant was dispatched to your quarters. The boy found it strange that the two knights he'd heard his Lord's betrothed had come with weren't stationed by the door.
A sharp knock echoed once. Then again, louder, more insistent.
“My lady?”
Silence.
The servant hesitated, damp palms against the polished wood.
“My lady?” He said again, voice cracking. “My lady, may I come in?”
“...My lady, I'm coming in.”
Then, cautiously, he pushed the door open.
The room was untouched. The bed still perfectly made, the hearth’s fire reduced to flickering embers. Shadows stretched long across the walls, and a chill crept in where warmth should have lingered.
Panic tightened his throat.
He checked the adjoining rooms. The empty sitting area, the silent halls. Nowhere.
Not even your guards and maid were present.
Sweat gathered at his brow as he hurried through the winding corridors, heart hammering as he sought out Lord Verstappen.
He found Max standing near the great hall’s window, dusk spilling through the glass in muted gold.
“My lord,” the servant panted, voice tight. “She’s- she’s gone.”
Max turned slowly. “Gone?”
“I searched her chambers, the halls, the west wing-”
“And the library?” Max’s voice was sharp, cutting through the servant’s stammering explanation.
The servant faltered. “The… the library, my lord?”
“Yes,” Max said evenly, already striding toward the east corridor. “She’s there.”
The servant froze, his jaw slackening. “You… you allowed her inside?”
“Are you questioning me?” Max didn’t even glance back as he continued down the hall, his boots echoing sharply on the stone floor.
“N-no, my lord!” the servant stammered, bowing reflexively. “But should I-”
“Stay where you are,” Max ordered. “I’ll handle this myself.”
Your two knights stood sentinel by the library doors when he approached, arms crossed, their expressions a mixture of boredom and indifference.
They barely acknowledged him, their attention elsewhere as the echo of his boots rang down the corridor.
Max didn’t slow his pace. “Is she still in there?”
Lando flicked a glance toward Oscar, then shrugged. “Yep. She's buried in a book or something,” he said with a nonchalant flick of his wrist, as if it were of little concern.
Max’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t think to remind her of the time?”
Oscar raised a brow, voice dry. “A certain scion has, unfortunately, forbidden our entry, my lord.”
Max sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, but Lando was quick to interject with a smirk. “And it’s a lost cause trying to pry our Lady away from a good book. Trust me, we’ve tried.”
Max’s frustration bubbled over into a short, exasperated laugh as he pushed the heavy doors open.
And there you were.
Curled into a high-backed chair, utterly absorbed in the thick, ancient book resting open in your lap.
A few other volumes lay scattered around your feet, their spines cracked open, as if you’d moved through them in a frenzy of curiosity.
Max’s gaze lingered on the sight before him. On the way your head tilted slightly as you read, your brow furrowed in concentration.
His grip on the doorframe loosened, but his jaw remained tight.
“My lady.”
You glanced up, startled but then smiled when you saw him. “Oh, my- Max, What are you doing here again?”
Max’s brow arched slightly at your casual tone. His irritation wavered.
He knew you were about to say ‘my Lord’ again, knew it was a mere slip of the tongue, court etiquette taking over before personal sense.
But.. my Max. Yes, he supposed he was indeed yours.
He couldn't say that though so when he spoke, it was only a disinterested, “It’s dinner time.”
You blinked, glancing toward the tall windows where the light had shifted to deep amber.
“Already? I hadn’t even realized-” You glanced down at the book in your lap, reluctant to put it aside. “I haven’t even finished this chapter.”
His gaze dropped to the title in your hands. “Faust,” he noted, tucking the information away. “You read German?”
You blinked, caught off guard. “I… only at an elementary level.”
Max's eyebrow arched slightly. You were either a liar or terribly humble.
“Faust,” he repeated dryly. “Hardly a book for someone with only elementary German. Your skills are passable, at least.”
“Just enough to get by,” you admitted, more honest now, brushing invisible dust from your skirt as you stood.
Max offered his arm, and you took it without hesitation this time.
He noticed, though he said nothing about the change, afraid that if he voiced it out you'd withdraw again.
“You might find Faust more rewarding if you read it in context,” he remarked as you walked down the hall, your knights and maid following behind.
You glanced up at him, curious. “And what context would that be?”
“Understanding Goethe’s philosophical explorations, for one. Or at least recognizing the poetic structure in its original form.”
You tilted your head. “So now you’re saying my German isn’t good enough?”
“I’m saying it’s a pity to read something monumental in fragments,” he replied. “Not a criticism.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” The corners of your lips quirked upward.
“Take it as you like.” He offered you a small shrug, though there was the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes.
A beat of silence passed before he spoke again. “Which German do you struggle with?”
“Official documents,” you admitted. “The kind that's full of overly formal phrasing and unnecessary flourish.”
Max hummed, thoughtful. Most official documents were indeed like that. “I could assist with that, should the need arise.”
You blinked at him, caught off guard by the offer. “You would?”
“If I find myself having time.”
“Thank you.”
He shook his head, brushing off your words. “And don't sit too close to the mezzanine shelves,” he added. “They’re unstable.”
Your brows rose. “Unstable?”
“I don’t need you buried beneath three hundred years of German history,” he said, his tone casual but his meaning clear.
A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “You’d miss me, then?”
“More likely, the servants would revolt,” he said, gesturing to the doors to the dining hall. “Dinner then, shall we?”
—
The dining hall was an expansive, imposing space, its vaulted ceilings casting long shadows over the vast table.
Candles decorated much of the available surfaces in a surprisingly tasteful way.
Their flames flickered weakly, struggling to combat the cold that clung to the stone walls like it was a living, breathing thing.
The table stretched far ahead, but only two places were set.
Max took his seat at the head without so much as a glance in your direction, and you slid into the chair opposite him.
Lily quietly withdrew to prepare for your night routine while Lando and Oscar remained a fair distance away, leaving the two of you some privacy to discuss.
Servants moved efficiently, placing the first course on the table: roast venison, honeyed carrots, and freshly baked bread that had already begun to cool in the chill air.
The earlier conversation about books had petered out, leaving a quiet in its wake.
Max ate as though entirely alone, his focus on the meal before him.
You shifted in your seat, the faint scrape of your fork against the plate feeling almost intrusive.
"You know," you began tentatively, "for someone who seems to enjoy books, you’re surprisingly difficult to talk to about them."
Max’s knife paused mid-slice, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.
There was no hostility in his gaze, but his expression was unreadable all the same. “Talking about books is rarely as rewarding as reading them.”
“That sounds suspiciously like an excuse,” you said, trying to inject a bit of lightness into the moment. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to have a proper discussion about them.”
His lips twitched slightly, as if the idea amused him, though he didn’t smile. “Do you often accuse your dining companions of conversational ineptitude, or am I a special case?”
“That depends.” You tore off a piece of bread. “Are you going to prove me wrong?”
Max tilted his head, studying you with quiet curiosity, like someone turning over a puzzle piece in their mind.
“Very well.” He set his knife down carefully. “What would you like to discuss? Goethe? Schiller?”
“Bold of you to assume I am especially fond of German authors. Perhaps I just picked up Faust in the library on a whim.” You smiled. “But if you must know, I’ve been working through Balzac recently.”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting slightly, though still difficult to read. “Balzac? Ambitious. And how are you finding him?”
“Dense,” you admitted with a laugh. “Brilliant, but dense. Definitely not light reading.”
“Few worthwhile things are,” he replied, returning to his meal. “Though I’ve always found Balzac’s fascination with ambition rather… tiresome.”
“Really?” you asked, curious. “Why?”
He took a measured sip of wine before answering. “Because I’ve seen enough ambition in reality to find little appeal in it as fiction.”
You smiled faintly, tilting your head. “And yet, here you are. A product of generations of ambition.”
His gaze darkened slightly, though not in anger.
There was a flicker of something, maybe hesitation, before he spoke. “Careful,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “You’re treading close to dangerous ground.”
“Am I?” you asked, though your tone was gentler now, almost teasing. “I thought we were just talking about books.”
Before he could respond, the servants re-entered, clearing the first course and placing the next before you.
The interruption softened the tension, and you let the moment breathe.
When the room was quiet again, you spoke, this time more cautiously. “Alright, then. Enough about me. What about you? What are you reading?”
Max’s fork paused mid-motion, and he set it down with deliberate care. “Does it matter?”
“Of course, it matters,” you replied, leaning forward slightly. “How else am I supposed to judge your taste?”
For a moment, you thought you saw the faintest glimmer of a smile. “If you must know, The Sorrows of Young Werther.”
You blinked, surprised. “Goethe’s most sentimental work? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Sentimentality has its uses,” he said dryly, though there was no real bite to his words. “Even you might agree.”
“Are you suggesting I’m sentimental?” you arched a brow.
“I’m suggesting you’re curious,” he replied, his tone even. “Perhaps overly so.”
“Fair.” You conceded with a small laugh. “But I’m curious.. what draws you to it? The tragedy? The unrequited love?”
He hesitated for just a moment, his gaze dropping briefly before he answered.
“The futility,” he said quietly, lifting his wine glass. “Of longing for something you cannot have.”
For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond, the honesty in his tone catching you off guard. When he didn’t elaborate, you picked up your own glass, letting the silence linger without pressing further.
“You have a rather bleak outlook, don’t you?” you asked finally, your voice softer now.
“Realistic,” he corrected, not unkindly, his gaze flicking back to yours. “Not everyone has the luxury of optimism.”
You frowned slightly, not entirely sure how to reply. “It’s not about luxury,” you said after a pause. “It’s about perspective.”
“Perspective is shaped by reality.” His eyes met yours, boring. “And reality is rarely kind.”
The conversation lulled again, but this time it felt less uneasy and more thoughtful.
As dinner wrapped up, Max glanced at your knights before settling on you, his tone lightening as he spoke. “I trust you can find your rooms?”
You nodded, standing from your chair. “Yes, I think so.”
“No late-night wandering, then?” he asked, his voice carrying the faintest trace of amusement.
Max’s lips twitched again, softer this time, as if he might actually be considering a smile. “Good. I’d hate to have to rescue you from some misstep in the dark.”
You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What makes you think I’d need rescuing?”
“Experience,” he said simply, the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.
The air between you shifted slightly, the earlier sharpness fading into something more subdued.
You allowed yourself a small laugh, breaking the lingering tension. “I’ll have you know I’m quite capable of finding my way around.”
“Is that so?” he replied, leaning back in his chair. His tone had softened, the sharp edges dulling to a quiet curiosity. “Well, then. I suppose I’ll trust you.”
“Trust,” you repeated, letting the word hang between you. “A bold move, considering we’ve only just met.”
Max regarded you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Bold, perhaps. But necessary.”
You hesitated, unsure how to respond. There was something in his voice, quiet, measured, and entirely unexpected, that made you pause. The weight of the moment settled around you like the faint flicker of the candlelight, warm yet fragile.
“Well,” you said finally. “I suppose I should be flattered.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
He rose from his seat with practiced ease, the flicker of warmth in his eyes quickly hidden behind his composed demeanor. “Goodnight, then.”
You watched him as he left the dining hall, his steps measured and deliberate, the echo of his footsteps fading into the vast, empty space.
For a moment, you sat in the quiet, your gaze lingering on the door where he had disappeared.
Finally, you stood, the faintest smile playing at your lips. “Goodnight, Max,” you murmured to the empty room.
—-
The first light of dawn crept through the heavy drapes of your room, painting the walls in soft hues of gold and silver. The air carried a sharp chill, the promise of frost lingering just outside the thick panes of glass.
Everything was still, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth and the soft rustling of fabric as Lily moved about with quiet precision.
She bent over a polished wooden chair, her deft hands smoothing out the folds of the attire she’d chosen for you.
A cloak of deep crimson lay draped across her arm, its rich, heavy fabric catching the faint light. You stirred in your bed, watching her through half-lidded eyes as she worked.
“Good morning, Lily,” you murmured, sitting up and drawing the blankets closer against the morning chill.
Lily turned with a warm smile, setting the cloak on the bed beside you. “Good morning, my Lady. Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough,” you replied, your fingers brushing the thick velvet of the cloak. You tilted your head, examining it with curiosity. “I don’t recall seeing this in my wardrobe before.”
“It was delivered just this morning,” Lily explained, her tone light but tinged with amusement. “A gift, I believe, from Lord Verstappen.”
Your brows lifted as you traced the intricate embroidery along the hem, tiny silver threads woven into delicate patterns. “From Lord Verstappen?”
She nodded, folding her hands in front of her. “He must have assumed the worst given your attire yesterday.”
“It’s rather heavy,” you remarked, holding it up to feel its weight.
Lily gave you a knowing smile, her tone dry but affectionate. “I think I speak for all of us when I say that I’d rather you walk with less grace than freeze, my Lady.”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you draped the cloak over your shoulders.
It was impossibly warm, the kind of warmth that seeped through your skin and settled in your bones. “You’re not wrong. I suppose there’s no room for vanity when winter comes knocking.”
“None at all,” Lily agreed, moving to adjust the cloak, fastening the silver clasp at your throat. “Besides, the color suits you. Lord Verstappen has surprisingly good taste. I'd have assumed he’d just grab any old thing and force you into it.”
You raised a brow at the tone that laced her words, giving her a sidelong glance. “Flattery for him, Lily? Are you trying to curry favor? And here I thought you were quite ready to sock him just yesterday.”
She feigned innocence, stepping back with a twinkle in her eye. “Not at all, my Lady. But if he keeps sending gifts like this, I might just start.”
Your laughter filled the room, chasing away the last remnants of sleep. You were somewhat glad Lily saw him as redeemable after yesterday.
After all, she was usually a good judge of character.
As you stood, the cloak fell around you like a royal mantle, its weight grounding but comforting.
By the time you entered the dining hall, Max was already seated at the long table, a vision of composed efficiency.
His pale hair was still perfectly swept back, not a strand out of place, and a small stack of documents sat before him.
His pen moved steadily across the paper, his focus unbroken even as the golden morning light softened the sharpness of his features.
“Good morning, Max,” you said, sliding into the chair across from him, your tone deliberately chipper.
Max glanced up briefly, eyes meeting yours with the barest flicker of warmth.
“Good morning,” he replied, setting his pen down with the precision of a man who never did anything carelessly. “You’re up early.”
“It’s rather difficult to stay in bed when the frost feels like it's climbing up to sleep with you,” you said, grabbing a warm roll from the plate near you. “Do you have a deal with the weather to ensure I never sleep in?”
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll admit to nothing. But if the frost succeeds, perhaps I should reward it.”
“Ha! I’d like to see you try,” you said, tearing a piece of bread and slathering it with butter. “I’ve made my peace with it, though. I realized there was a charm to the winter once I got over the whole ‘freezing to death’ aspect.”
Max arched a brow, his eyes sparkling faintly with what you hoped was amusement. “A charm, you say? I wasn’t aware you were so poetic in the mornings.”
“Oh, I’m a veritable bard before breakfast,” you said. “In fact, I was just composing a sonnet about how frostbite builds character.”
He snorted softly as he reached for his tea, the sound barely audible, but it felt like a victory. “I’ll be sure to commission a copy of it for the library.”
You leaned back in your chair, feeling emboldened by his rare moment of humor
“Speaking of things worth writing about, I was thinking of spending some time in the garden today. It looks magical with the frost.”
Max paused, his teacup halfway to his lips, and gave you a look that bordered on incredulous. “The garden? In winter?”
“Yes, the garden,” you said, undeterred. “You do realize it’s still a garden, even when it’s cold?”
He set his cup down slowly, as if trying to process your words. “You are aware that nothing grows in the garden during winter, yes? Unless you count the weeds, which I doubt have much aesthetic appeal.”
“There are flowers that survive in winter,” you said with a pointed look.
He tilted his head, his expression blank. “Like what? Frozen dandelions?”
“Snowdrops, holly, winter jasmine,” you listed off, ticking them off on your fingers. “I saw some while passing by yesterday. Honestly, do you even know what’s in your own garden?”
Max leaned back slightly. “I delegate. Why bother when there are people who are willing to brave the frost to catalog it all for me?”
You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your grin. “How magnanimous of you.”
He inclined his head slightly, as though you’d paid him a genuine compliment. “It’s a skill.”
“You should come with me,” you said suddenly. “A little walk in the fresh air couldn’t hurt. Who knows? You might even enjoy it.”
He hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly against the rim of his teacup. “I appreciate the invitation,” he said finally, his tone carefully polite. “But my duties don’t often allow for such… luxuries.”
“Luxuries?” you raised a brow. “Surely even a Lord like yourself deserves a moment to himself.”
He chuckled softly, the sound low and rare, but it faded quickly. “Perhaps another time.”
You nodded, masking your disappointment with a practiced smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to distract you from your responsibilities.”
“Distraction,” he repeated, his gaze lingering on you longer than necessary.
Something unspoken flickered in his eyes, and though his expression remained composed, there was the faintest hint of something warmer beneath the surface.
“Perhaps,” he said again, this time softer, almost to himself.
You glanced down, heat creeping up your cheeks, and busied yourself with your breakfast.
—-
The steady scratch of a quill against parchment filled the room, broken only by the occasional shuffle of papers.
Max leaned over his desk, eyes scanning the dense columns of reports.
The study was dim, the late afternoon light barely filtering through the heavy curtains. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting long, flickering shadows across the walls.
Yet, for all his focus, his pen paused mid-sentence.
His thoughts drifted. Again.
To you.
He could see it vividly in his mind: the garden cloaked in frost, each branch thin and brittle beneath the weight of winter.
You would be there, wouldn’t you? Bundled in that wool cloak you favored, breath curling in the cold air as you traced the icy edges of dormant rose bushes.
You had mentioned it offhandedly this morning, your plan to spend the afternoon outside despite the chill.
Max let out a slow breath, frowning at the parchment before him.
The words blurred, meaningless.
It was ridiculous.
You were likely gone by now, the cold too sharp to endure for long.
Rationality urged him to stay, to finish the reports that demanded his attention.
Yet the thought persisted.
Why did it matter if you were still there?
It shouldn’t.
And yet.
The chair scraped quietly against the floor as he stood.
He didn’t bother with his coat. The cold would be a brief inconvenience.
His steps were measured as he left the study, though there was a certain tension in his stride, as if he was trying to convince himself this was a simple walk and nothing more.
The manor’s halls gave way to the biting air of winter, and Max inhaled sharply, the cold seeping through the thin fabric of his sleeves.
The gravel path crunched beneath his boots as he crossed into the garden.
The world was quiet here. Still.
The pale sun sagged low in the sky, casting a silver sheen over frost-laced branches and brittle hedges. Even the air felt suspended, holding its breath.
He scanned the expanse, expecting, no, hoping, to see a flicker of movement among the barren trees.
Nothing.
Max’s jaw tightened.
Of course. You wouldn’t have waited. Hours had passed. Why would you linger in the cold for him? The thought was absurd.
He moved forward anyway, slow and deliberate, his hands clasped behind his back as if that could restrain the growing restlessness in his chest.
Each turn of the path yielded only more empty frost-covered stone.
Once.
Twice.
A third time around, and still nothing.
Perhaps this was a mistake.
He turned to leave.
Then, faintly, the sound of movement, a soft rustle of fabric.
His head snapped up.
And there you were.
Tucked into the curve of a stone bench, half-hidden by the skeletal branches of the hedgerow.
A book lay open in your lap, your gloved fingers idly turning the page.
Max stared.
You hadn’t left.
A strange feeling settled in his chest, something between relief and unease.
He didn’t speak, not immediately. For a moment, he simply watched you, the way your breath misted in the cold, how your hair caught the pale light.
He wasn’t sure why he’d come out here.
But now that he had, he found he didn’t want to leave.
Max exhaled quietly, letting the breath curl away into the cold.
He stood perfectly still, half-concealed by the bare limbs of the hedgerow, his figure blending into the stark winter landscape. The cold gnawed at him, a sharp wind threading through the thin fabric of his sleeves, but he didn’t move.
His breath escaped in thin, controlled streams of vapor, dissipating into the frigid air.
And still, his eyes remained fixed on you.
You sat quietly on the stone bench, bundled in the cloak he'd ordered a servant to bring to you last night come morning, its edges stiff with frost.
A book rested in your lap, your gloved fingers lazily tracing the brittle page edges as you turned them.
Every now and then, you paused, eyes lifting to watch the pale sun as it sagged toward the horizon, before returning to your reading.
Max’s hands tightened behind his back.
He shouldn’t be here.
There was no reason to be.
And yet, he didn’t leave.
He told himself it was coincidence, that his steps had simply led him here after hours of restless pacing in his study.
But even that excuse felt thin, crumbling under the weight of his own unease.
He exhaled slowly, the breath catching in the cold.
Why didn’t you go inside? The air was sharp and biting.
Anyone with sense would’ve retreated to the warmth of the manor by now. Yet you sat there still, as if waiting for something.
Or someone.
A ridiculous thought.
Max’s jaw tightened.
"You know," a dry voice cut through the stillness, "standing there staring is a bit creepy, my Lord.”
Max turned sharply, his cold glare snapping to the armored figure leaning casually against the frosted stone archway.
Oscar.
The knight stood with an infuriating air of nonchalance, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword, the other shoved lazily into the crook of his elbow. His breath misted lazily in the cold air, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You’re out of line.” Max’s voice was flat, the warning unmistakable.
Oscar only raised an eyebrow, entirely unbothered. “Probably. But you’ve been standing long enough that I figured someone should say something.”
Max’s glare deepened.
Oscar tilted his head slightly toward the garden. “You could just speak to her, you know. I’m half certain she wouldn’t mind.”
“I have no intention of interrupting her,” Max said coolly, though the words rang hollow even to his own ears.
Oscar made a thoughtful noise, tapping a gloved finger against his chin. “No, of course not. That’s why you’re skulking in the hedges instead of being a normal person and saying hello.”
Max’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “You have duties. Attend to them.”
Oscar chuckled under his breath. “Oh, I am attending to them. Protecting the lady, making sure her suitors aren’t lurking about. You know, the usual.”
Max’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
Oscar didn’t flinch.
“Did she not mention this morning she hoped you’d join her out here?” the knight asked offhandedly, brushing frost off his shoulder. “But maybe I heard wrong. Could’ve been the wind.”
Max didn’t respond.
Oscar let the silence stretch for a moment before shrugging. “Well. Suit yourself.”
With that, he pushed off the archway and strode casually toward you, boots crunching against the frost-laden gravel.
Max didn’t move. His gaze followed Oscar with a cold, sharp focus, but his feet remained planted, weighed down by something heavier than pride.
Oscar’s figure grew smaller as he neared you.
And then, you looked up.
Your face softened in recognition, lips curving into a faint smile as your knight approached. Max’s chest tightened inexplicably.
“You’ve been out here a while, my lady,” Oscar remarked lightly, stopping beside the stone bench.
You laughed softly, the sound carrying faintly through the still air. “Longer than I meant to. Has it gotten that late already?”
“Late enough,” Oscar said, leaning slightly against the stone edge. “Cold enough too, I imagine.”
You exhaled, watching the breath curl away. “The cold’s not so bad.”
Oscar smirked. “If you say so. Though I passed Lord Max earlier. He was out here too.”
Your eyes lifted, blinking in quiet surprise. “Was he?”
Oscar hummed. “Looked like he was thinking about joining you. Or maybe just staring at you. Hard to tell with him.”
Your gaze flicked toward the distant paths, searching the empty garden.
Oscar watched you carefully. “Still might be lurking somewhere. Shadows seem to agree with him.”
You smiled faintly, but your eyes lingered on the hedgerows, thoughtful.
Oscar nudged a frost-coated pebble with his boot. “You know… if you wanted him here, you could just call him out. Maybe the shame will make his feet move.”
You glanced at him, arching a brow.
He smirked. “Just a thought, my Lady.”
Oscar pushed off the bench. “Come on. You’ll catch cold if you stay out much longer.”
As they turned to head back toward the manor, Max stood still, hidden beyond the hedges.
His hands clenched slowly at his sides.
And then, finally, he turned and walked away.
The frost crunched beneath his boots, louder than before.
—
The rest of the month at the Verstappen estate unfolded in slow, deliberate strokes, like the steady brush of winter wind against frosted glass.
The walls of cold formality between you and Max didn’t crumble overnight, but there were cracks now. Thin, hairline fractures where something softer threatened to seep through.
Max remained composed, distant, his every word and gesture measured. Yet every so often, something flickered.
A hesitation before he spoke. A glance that lingered longer than necessary.
Small, fleeting moments that barely seemed to matter, but they did. They built something fragile and new, fragile as frost on stone.
It started with the garden.
You had grown fond of the winter gardens. Quiet, stark, and untouched. The biting air sharpened your senses, and the stillness gave you space to breathe, something you often struggled to find within the Verstappen estate's cold, towering walls.
You were seated at the breakfast table one morning, fingers curled around your tea for warmth.
Your eyes traced the frost-laced hedgerows beyond the tall windows, lost in thought.
“I’ll accompany you today.”
The voice was quiet but certain, breaking through your reverie.
Your head snapped up.
Max stood across the room, a stack of documents in hand, his expression unreadable.
“…Pardon?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “To the gardens. I’ll walk with you.”
You stared at him, caught off guard. “You want to… walk. Outside. In the cold.”
A slight tilt of his head. “Yes.”
“You?”
His jaw tensed, a muscle ticking. “Is that so difficult to believe?”
“Frankly? Yes.” You set your teacup down carefully, studying him. “Don’t you have something far more important to do than trail after me like some-”
“I hardly think safeguarding my betrothed is beneath me,” he cut in smoothly, though something in his tone lacked its usual sharpness.
You raised a brow. “Safeguard me? Max, it’s a garden, not a battlefield.”
He didn’t answer, only held your gaze steadily.
A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Well, far be it from me to refuse the protection of a lord.”
Max inclined his head, as if the matter was settled.
—
The cold met you both immediately as you stepped into the garden.
You drew your coat tighter. Max, of course, didn’t seem to notice the cold at all.
His steps were measured, boots crunching against the frost-dusted path. He kept half a step ahead of you, his hands clasped neatly behind his back.
The silence stretched. And stretched.
Then, abruptly-
“Those are evergreens.”
You blinked.
“…Yes. They are.”
Max gave a small nod, as if confirming a fact. “They endure the winter well.”
"That is typically how evergreens work."
Silence.
You bit your lip, fighting the smile threatening to surface.
Max cleared his throat, his eyes flicking forward again. "I thought it was worth mentioning."
"It was very insightful," you teased lightly.
His jaw tightened, though you noticed the faintest flush at the tips of his ears.
The silence stretched again, but it didn’t feel so suffocating now.
"I don’t…" he started, then stopped. His hands flexed behind his back. "I’m not particularly… good at this."
You tilted your head. "At walking?”
A sharp exhale, half a laugh, half frustration. "At this. Talking. Being-" he paused, as if the word itself burned. "-approachable."
You considered him for a moment. "You’re not as terrible as you think."
His eyes flicked to yours, uncertain.
"You just talk about trees a lot."
That earned a genuine huff of breath. Not quite a laugh, but close.
"I’ll… keep that in mind.”
—
Days slipped by like soft falling snow, quiet and unhurried. And so did the walks.
The first few outings had been brittle, every step and word sharp with awkwardness. But little by little, the stiffness began to melt.
It wasn’t anything grand, no sweeping gestures or sudden confessions, but something quieter. Subtle.
Max no longer fumbled for conversation, and you no longer waited for him to.
Sometimes you spoke. Sometimes you didn’t. And somehow, the silences became easier.
There was comfort in it, like the steady crunch of frost beneath your boots or the way your breath curled in the cold air.
It started with small things.
One morning, as you walked past a thicket of frost-covered hedges, Max slowed his pace, watching you with a flicker of curiosity.
“You always stop here.”
You glanced at him, surprised he noticed. “It’s peaceful.”
His eyes followed yours to the bare branches dusted in white.
“Hm.” He made a low sound of acknowledgment, then fell quiet.
The next day, you noticed he lingered near that spot, as if waiting for you to pause first.
He didn’t say anything, but it was enough.
Another morning, you stumbled slightly on the uneven path, your boot catching on a patch of ice.
Before you could right yourself, a steady hand caught your elbow.
You blinked, looking up.
Max’s hand hovered there, his grip careful but sure.
His expression was unreadable, but his touch was steady.
“You should watch your step,” he murmured.
You stared at him for a beat too long.
“I was,” you said finally, a little breathless.
His hand dropped back to his side, and he turned away before you could see the faint pink creeping up his neck.
The next day, the path had been salted.
You never mentioned it. Neither did he.
But the air between you felt lighter.
Then, there was the matter of the scarf.
It was colder than usual that morning. Bitter wind snuck through the layers of your coat and scarf, nipping at your skin.
Max noticed.
“You’re cold,” he said flatly.
You glanced at him, defensive. “It’s winter. Everyone’s cold.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then, without a word, he unwound the dark wool scarf from his neck and held it out to you.
You blinked.
“…What are you doing?”
“You need it more than I do.”
You stared at the scarf, then at him. “Max, I’m not going to take your scarf. That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s practical,” he replied, tone perfectly serious.
You huffed a laugh. “Oh, is it? And what about you?”
“I’ll manage.”
His expression didn’t waver.
After a long pause, you sighed and took the scarf from his hands.
It was warm. Warmer than yours, and it smelled faintly of cedar and something crisp, like winter air.
You looped it around your neck, hiding a small smile.
“Happy now?”
Max gave a short nod. “Good.”
The next day, he wore a thicker coat.
You said nothing.
Neither did he.
But his gaze lingered on the scarf around your neck.
And that was enough.
The silences softened after that.
Some days, Max would walk slightly ahead, hands behind his back, eyes on the path.
Other days, he matched your stride, quiet but near.
Once, as you passed a row of brittle rose bushes, you paused, brushing your glove over the thorns.
Max stopped beside you.
“They won’t bloom again until spring.”
“I know.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“They’re still... nice to look at,” he admitted.
You glanced at him.
“That’s surprisingly sentimental of you.”
A slight shrug. “They’re resilient. Even now.”
You smiled, soft and secret.
Another day, you caught him watching you when you laughed at something small. A small squirrel darting through the snow, slipping and scrambling back up a tree.
Max didn’t laugh, but something flickered in his eyes.
Not amusement.
Something warmer.
He looked away when you caught him, but you didn’t tease him for it.
The walks stretched longer. The conversations grew softer.
There were no grand declarations, no sweeping changes.
Just the slow, steady thaw of winter.
And for now, that was enough.
—-
It happened on an ordinary day, so ordinary that you couldn’t have guessed it would stand out for any reason at all.
You were sitting in the common room, absentmindedly flipping through a file, your thoughts half on the task and half on the cup of tea cooling beside you.
You were aware of Max nearby, as you always seemed to be. The two of you had taken to spending your quiet moments together for some reason.
He was seated at the far corner, half-hidden behind a stack of papers, his focus presumably locked on his work.
Or so you thought.
It wasn’t until you reached for your tea, your eyes lifting momentarily, that you noticed it. His gaze.
Max was staring at you.
It wasn’t a casual glance or a quick flicker of attention. His eyes were fixed, steady, like he was studying you without even realizing it.
There was something almost unreadable in his expression, his usual guarded demeanor softened by a hint of… curiosity? Thoughtfulness? You couldn’t quite place it.
For a moment, you froze, unsure what to do. Should you look away? Pretend you hadn’t noticed? Confront him?
The options raced through your mind in a tangle, but before you could decide, Max blinked, as though snapping out of a trance.
His gaze shifted back to the papers in front of him, his movements abrupt and uncharacteristically awkward.
He cleared his throat quietly, shuffling the documents with more focus than necessary.
You felt your cheeks warm, a faint heat creeping up your neck. It wasn’t like Max to lose his composure, even slightly.
You wondered what he’d been thinking. Or if he’d even realized what he was doing.
“Everything alright?” you asked, breaking the silence before it could stretch uncomfortably long. Your voice was casual, light, as though the moment hadn’t happened.
Max didn’t look up immediately, his jaw tightening for a fraction of a second. “Fine,” he said, his tone clipped, but there was a faint edge to it, something almost defensive.
You tilted your head, studying him for a beat longer. “You sure? You looked… distracted.”
He finally met your gaze, his expression unreadable again, but this time you thought you caught the faintest flicker of something.
Embarrassment, maybe, or irritation at being caught.
“I’m sure,” he said, his tone more even now.
“Alright,” you said lightly, turning back to your file with a small shrug. But your heart was still racing, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what had just passed between you.
As the moments ticked by, you resisted the urge to glance at him again, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of his earlier stare.
—
The two of you found yourselves in the library again, a rare moment of calm amidst the usual chaos.
Max sat across from you, his attention drifting between the book in his hands and the room around him.
For once, he wasn’t buried in paperwork or fielding endless questions from others, and the quiet was almost comforting.
The soft rustle of turning pages and the muted hum of your own reading filled the air.
It was a stillness that wrapped around you both, unspoken but shared, a silence that felt like an unacknowledged truce.
Until the peace fractured.
A faint groan of wood sliced through the quiet, subtle at first but growing louder, sharper. You frowned, your eyes flicking upward from your book.
Max noticed the sound too, his head tilting slightly as his attention shifted.
“What was that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Max didn’t answer right away, his eyes narrowing as the groaning intensified. “Stay here,” he muttered, already rising from his chair.
But before either of you could move further, the source of the noise revealed itself.
The tall shelf in the corner swayed unnaturally, its weight shifting in a way that made your stomach twist.
“Max-” you started, panic creeping into your voice.
And then it happened. The shelf gave way.
Books tumbled from its upper shelves like a cascade of water, filling the air with dull thuds and sharp cracks.
The massive structure pitched toward you, and you froze, your feet rooted in place.
“Move!” a voice yelled.
You barely registered the shout before a strong hand grabbed your arm, yanking you back with such force that your book flew from your grasp.
Your back slammed into something solid. Someone’s chest.
A deafening crash filled the room as the shelf slammed into the ground, its impact sending vibrations through the floor.
Books scattered in every direction, some sliding to a stop at your feet.
“Are you okay?” Max’s voice was sharp, edged with panic. His hand still gripped your arm, his knuckles white from the effort.
You turned toward him, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “I… I think so.”
His eyes darted over you, scanning for any sign of injury. “Did it hit you?” he asked, his voice quieter but no less urgent.
“No,” you managed. “I’m fine. Just… shaken.”
Max exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging as some of the tension left him.
He dropped his hand from your arm, stepping back to give you space, but his gaze stayed locked on you.
“I should’ve seen it coming,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I knew it was old..” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.
You shook your head, still trying to steady your breathing. “You couldn’t have known it would fall like that.”
His brow furrowed, frustration flickering across his face. “I should’ve checked it. What if-” He cut himself off, his jaw working as he looked away.
“It didn’t,” you said firmly. “You pulled me out of the way. That’s what matters.”
Max’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, his frown deepened. “This shouldn’t have happened in the first place. I should’ve-”
“Stop,” you interrupted, your voice firmer than you expected. “Max, you can’t blame yourself. You didn’t push the shelf. You didn’t make it fall.”
He met your gaze then, his eyes dark and filled with a storm of emotions. “But I could’ve stopped it,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
You hesitated, unsure how to respond. The raw guilt in his voice surprised you. It was rare to see Max shaken. You didn't even think it possible.
“You did stop it. At least for me,” you said softly.
He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.
Finally, he sighed and stepped toward the wreckage. “This is a mess,” he muttered, his tone shifting to something more clipped, controlled. “I’ll get someone to clean it up. You should go sit down. Get some air.”
You followed his gaze to the pile of broken wood and scattered books. The sight made your stomach twist, but you forced yourself to speak. “I’ll help. I was here too.”
“No,” Max said quickly, holding up a hand. “You’ve had enough of a scare for one day. Just… take a break, alright?”
You hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But only because you asked.”
Max gave a short, almost reluctant nod in return. “Good. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
As you turned to leave, you glanced back at him. He was already moving toward the debris, his focus shifting entirely to the mess. But the tension in his shoulders hadn’t eased, and you knew he’d be carrying the weight of what could have happened for a while.
And so would you.
—-
The realization that you fancied Max struck with all the subtlety of a thunderclap.
You fancied your fiancé. Oh, God. You fancied your fiancé.
The thought struck you like a bolt of lightning, the weight of it settling heavily in your chest as you paced back and forth across your room.
With each step, the walls of the room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with the suffocating pressure of your own spiraling thoughts.
How had this happened? Why him? Of all people, why Max?
Stoic, distant Max, the man you barely even knew.
“It’s a trick of the mind. A reaction to circumstance,” you whispered, the words directed at your own reflection in the mirror.
Your face was pinched, your brow furrowed, and your eyes wide with a mixture of dread and something… else.
You rubbed at your temples, as though the act might banish the errant thoughts swirling in your mind.
“It’s admiration,” you said aloud, as if hearing the words would make them true. “Respect for his… demeanor. His resolve.”
You faltered, the image of Max flickering to life in your mind.
His measured gaze, the faint crease at the corner of his mouth when he was deep in thought.
The way his presence seemed to command the air around him.
Stop it.
“Lily!” you called out suddenly, your voice higher than you intended, panic rising sharply in your throat. “Lily, please, come here!”
The door creaked open, and Lily entered with her usual composed air, her eyes softening as soon as she took in the sight of your distress.
“My Lady, what’s wrong? You look...” she trailed off, hesitation in her tone as she glanced at you, clearly noting the unease written across your face.
“Don’t even say it,” you interrupted quickly, pressing your palms to your temples in an effort to stave off the rising panic. “I’m losing my mind, Lily. I think... I think I have feelings for Max.”
Lily regarded you for a long moment, her expression unreadable, but there was a subtle shift in her eyebrow.
A hint of intrigue that you couldn’t quite place. She did not seem surprised.
“Max?” she asked, her voice calm, though the faintest hint of something stirred in her eyes. “As in, your betrothed, Lord Max Verstappen?”
“Yes! That Max!” you exclaimed, turning toward her with wide, frantic eyes, feeling the chaos inside you deepen with every word you spoke. “What other Max would I be talking about?!”
Lily paused for a moment, her eyes assessing you, the soft lines of her face betraying no judgment, only careful understanding.
Finally, she spoke, her tone even, but with an edge of something like amusement.
“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I’m glad it’s not hatred you’re feeling.”
You blinked, surprised at her response. “What?”
She gave you a small, wry smile, her hands folding gently in front of her. “I’m glad you don’t detest the man you’re engaged to. That’s a start, isn’t it? At least you’re not loathing him.”
You gaped at her, your mind still reeling from the gravity of your own emotions. “But this isn’t nothing, Lily! This isn’t just some passing fancy. I can’t stop thinking about him. Every time he’s near, I feel like I’m going to lose my mind. I don’t know how to act around him. It’s like- like he’s too close and I’m too far from myself.”
Lily’s gaze softened, but she did not rush to soothe you with easy words.
She tilted her head slightly, her voice measured but firm. “Feelings like these don’t appear overnight, My Lady. They don’t disappear either. But you’re right. You don’t know him very well yet. You’ve got time to work this out, slowly. You don’t have to have it all figured out now.”
You nodded, but the knot in your stomach only tightened as a new wave of uncertainty washed over you.
“I don’t know what to do with all of this, Lily. What if I say something wrong? What if I act like a fool in front of him? What if... what if he doesn’t care at all?”
Lily stepped closer to you, her presence steady, constant.
“Then he doesn’t,” she said simply. “If he doesn’t care, then... then you’ll be no worse off than you are now, My Lady. But know this: no other woman is taking him from you. He’s already yours. That’s settled.”
Her words settled over you like a weight.
He was already yours.
There was no escaping the finality of it, the truth in her calm tone.
The idea that you didn’t need to chase after him, that he was already tied to you in ways you couldn’t control, both unsettled and reassured you.
“I’m not even sure I want him, though,” you murmured, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I don’t even know what this is. What if I’m just... confused? What if it’s just... attachment? I mean, he’s always there, he’s my betrothed, but- he’s not-”
“Stop,” Lily’s voice sliced through your spiraling thoughts. “You don’t need to understand it all right now. You don’t need to be sure of your feelings just because you’ve realized them.”
You took a slow breath, your chest tight as you tried to keep your composure.
Her words were soothing in their simplicity, but they didn’t change your feelings. “I just... I don’t know what to do with all this. It’s too much. Too fast. I can’t keep up.”
You let the words hang in the air, unsure if you were speaking to her or to yourself.
Lily gave you a small, understanding smile, though it was tinged with a trace of amusement.
She didn’t speak for a moment, as though carefully weighing her response. “Then take it slow, my Lady. You’re allowed to feel all of this, in your own time. You don’t have to rush to make sense of it. No one’s going to force you to figure it out on anyone else’s schedule.”
A tiny sense of relief swept over you, but the knot in your stomach still refused to loosen.
You glanced at the door, as though the mere idea of being near Max would send everything crashing down again.
“So... you’re saying I can avoid him... for a while?”
Lily raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with the suggestion. “Avoid him?” she repeated, the edge of disbelief creeping into her voice. “My Lady, if I may-"
“But I can?” you pressed, cutting her off, eyes wide with urgency. “You said I could take my time, right? Well, avoiding him sounds like taking my time to me.”
Lily sighed, the sound long and heavy, as though you were testing her patience. “Yes, My Lady, your free will does indeed allow you to avoid him, if that’s truly what you wish.”
A spark of triumph flickered inside you.
“Perfect.” You stood straighter, a plan forming in your mind. “Call for Sir Lando and Sir Oscar.”
Lily’s eyebrows furrowed as she eyed you suspiciously. “What for, My Lady?”
You gave her an almost manic grin, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly as your plan took shape. “They’re going to help me.”
“Help you... with avoiding your betrothed?” Lily asked slowly, a hint of disbelief creeping into her voice. She crossed her arms, studying you with a bemused expression.
“Yes,” you replied firmly, not an ounce of hesitation in your voice. “They’ll help me stay away from him. They’ll distract him, tell him I’m busy with... other things.”
Lily opened her mouth to respond but stopped herself, narrowing her eyes at you as if you had just suggested something ludicrous.
“My Lady,” she said, her voice dipping into a tone of mild reproach, “I must say, I don’t think that’s the most productive course of action.”
“Oh, please.” You threw your hands up dramatically. “I’m just trying to buy myself some time here. I can’t face him, not with these... feelings…whatever they are…bubbling up every time I even think about him. If I can just avoid him for a little while, I can breathe again.”
Lily shook her head, a small, resigned smile playing on her lips. “I don’t think this is the solution you’re looking for, My Lady. But if you insist on this... strategy, I can’t stop you.”
You raised an eyebrow, suddenly intrigued by the shift in her tone. “You can stop me, can’t you? You’re my lady’s maid. You’re supposed to stop me from making poor decisions.”
Lily raised an eyebrow right back at you. “I’m also supposed to help you navigate poor decisions, not prevent them entirely. And right now, this is just one of many decisions I’m going to let you make on your own.”
She paused, eyeing you carefully. “But just know, avoiding him isn’t going to give you the answers you need. It’ll only prolong the inevitable.”
You smiled sweetly, still not convinced. “Sometimes, a little delay is exactly what I need. Besides, it’s not like he’s going anywhere. We’re betrothed, after all.”
“That you are,” Lily replied, her tone becoming slightly sharper. “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be avoiding him. You’ve got time, but you also have a responsibility to work through your feelings. Even if it’s uncomfortable.”
You glanced toward the door, already plotting the next phase of your plan. “I’ll figure it out. But in the meantime, I’m going to need some assistance.”
Lily sighed again, louder this time.
She didn’t speak for a long moment, her gaze flicking to the door as though she were silently debating whether or not to humor you.
Finally, she gave a small nod. “Very well. I’ll fetch Sir Lando and Sir Oscar. But I’m warning you, My Lady, this avoidance strategy won’t last long.”
You grinned triumphantly as she turned to leave. “Thank you, Lily. You’re the best.”
As she stepped out of the room, you sank back into your chair, letting your mind wander to the next step of your plan.
You weren’t entirely sure what you were doing, but it felt better than facing Max and trying to make sense of the chaos swirling inside you.
For now, avoiding him was the only option that seemed remotely manageable.
When Lily returned with your knights, they each looked at you with varying degrees of confusion and amusement, but you gave them a firm, confident look.
This plan was going to work.
You could make it work.
“Alright,” you said, standing tall, as though the sheer gravity of your decision had transformed you into a seasoned military strategist. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to make sure Max never sees me again.”
A pause hung in the air, heavy and expectant.
“Or at least… not for a while.”
Lando and Oscar exchanged a glance. Lando’s lips twitched upward, the beginnings of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth, while Oscar’s furrowed brow and pursed lips betrayed his confusion.
“Right,” Lando said finally, leaning back and crossing his arms. His tone was equal parts incredulous and amused. “This ought to be good. What, exactly, do you want us to do, my Lady? This sounds like it’s going to be excellent for my boredom.”
Oscar’s expression tightened further. “You can’t be serious,” he muttered, half to himself, his arms now folded.
You straightened your back, summoning all the confidence you could muster. “I am entirely serious. From this moment forward, I have suddenly become… extremely busy.”
Oscar blinked. “Busy,” he repeated flatly.
“Yes, busy,” you replied, the words tumbling out with an exaggerated air of importance. “So busy, in fact, that I won’t have a single moment to spare. And I need you two to help make sure that’s… believable.”
Lando arched an eyebrow, a grin now fully blossoming on his face. “Wait, let me get this straight. You want us to..what? Fabricate your life for a bit?”
“Exactly,” you said with a flourish of your hand, as though the absurdity of your request was irrelevant. “A little misdirection here, a well-timed excuse there. Between the two of you, I’m sure you can come up with something convincing.”
Lando let out a low whistle, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “So, you’re asking us to keep Max, the man who has been running this house like a clock, distracted? To throw him off the scent entirely?”
“Precisely,” you said, lifting your chin.
Oscar looked less amused and more concerned, his practical nature coming to the forefront. “And what exactly is this plan supposed to achieve? You think if we keep him occupied for long enough, he’ll just… forget about you? You do realize who we’re talking about, right?”
“I don’t need him to forget,” you replied quickly, your voice rising slightly in pitch. “I just need him to be… preoccupied. Thoroughly distracted. He can’t be allowed to think about me, let alone come looking for me.”
Oscar stared at you for a long moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “You do realize how ridiculous this sounds, don’t you?”
“Ridiculous or not, it’s necessary,” you said firmly. “I can’t have him breathing down my neck right now. Not while I’m trying to..” You stopped abruptly. “..Figure things out.”
Lando, who had been quietly observing, suddenly burst out laughing. “This is incredible. You’re trying to dodge the one man who could probably find you in his sleep.”
“Lando,” you said sharply, glaring at him.
“No, no, I’m on board,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I just want it on record that when this inevitably backfires, I’ll be there to say ‘I told you so.’”
Oscar sighed, his skepticism undiminished. “Even if we manage to keep him distracted, it won’t last long. He’s too sharp for that.”
“Then we’ll just have to be sharper,” you shot back, planting your hands on your hips.
Lando snorted. “Sharper than Lord Verstappen? Oh, my Lady, you’ve got high hopes. But fine, I’ll play along. What’s your grand strategy?”
You hesitated, realizing you hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Uh… I don’t know. Just make something up. A task, a duty, whatever it takes. You’re both clever. Use your imagination.”
Lando grinned like a cat who had just been handed a saucer of cream. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll come up with something. This is going to be very entertaining.”
Oscar, meanwhile, was still frowning. “This is reckless,” he said quietly.
“Reckless or not,” you replied, “it’s happening. So, are you in or not?”
Oscar sighed again, clearly reluctant but unable to resist your determined expression. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Excellent,” you said, clapping your hands together. “Now, let’s get to work.”
As Lando leaned back in his chair, still grinning, and Oscar reluctantly nodded his agreement, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of triumph. Surely, this would work. How hard could it be to outmaneuver Max Emilian Verstappen?
You tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your mind whispering that you might have just made a very, very big mistake.
—-
Permanent tag list:
@papichulomacy
#x reader#formula one x reader#formula one#formula 1#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#max vertsappen fic#mv1 imagine#mv1 x reader#mv33 x reader#mv33#mv1#mv1 fic#mv33 rb#mv1 x you#mv33 x you#mv33 fic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
→ your shadow
PAIRING → halbrand (sauron) x f!númenórean!reader
WORD COUNT → 2.3k words
WARNINGS → pining (mainly our dark lord), stalking, flirting, secrets, manipulating dreams, obsession, sinful thoughts 🤭
SUMMARY → the dark lord begins his quest to turn you to the darkness, he uses every tactic he can think of but for some reason the darkness doesn’t consume you like the others.
AUTHORS NOTE → this is turning out to be a pretty long series so I'll start linking the previous parts. i wanted to also thank you all for the lovely comments and love for this series. it is my first time branching out to another fandom so thank you so much for welcoming me with open arms, it means the world to me 🩵
also massive warning; i am not versed in the lore as I am still new to this obviously none of what happens in here will be canonical as readers secret is probably not in the slightest possible.
FIC MASTERLIST → NEXT PART
He could not help himself. In the days following your meeting in the jail, his mind had followed you, reaching out when you slept just so he could taste the sweet thoughts and manipulate those dreams to aid in his corruption of you. He needed more than just a touch; he required a bond—one only solidified by the mixing of blood.
Like with Galadriel, you started as a cog in the master plan. Something to corrupt, a means to an end. But as he spends more and more time watching you from the shadows, he realizes that you have become more. More than a simple pawn on the board to play in this game of healing Middle-Earth.
He grew to admire your strength and resilience toward his meddling. Now, as he watched from the shadows of the darkened alley, he could not help but try to pull on that little invisible thread starting to show itself to him. However, something surprised him: a bright shimmer seemed to encompass you this time, like a shield protecting you from his onslaught.
Your laughter was so pure and sinful to his ears that it, for even the briefest moment, caused a faint shimmer of light to return to his dark soul. But the light was fleeting, and he returned to the darkness to leave you to mingle and converse with your fellow maidens until he would find you in your dreams again.
"Lord Halbrand," you called, causing him to stop his stride away from the tavern once you caught a glimpse of him probably leaving. He spun around to look at you, a thin smile on his lips. "Come sit with us," you waved him over, though slightly drunken by the ale you had been drinking if your shaky hand was any tell to him. The other maidens looked at you and spoke inaudible words. Ones they clearly aimed at him if their alarmed minds were any tell.
"Ladies," he bowed slightly as you smiled up at him. His eyes swept over the other maidens, who looked less than pleased to see the rugged man standing there.
"I see you escaped your cage," you say with a hint of amusement. "A pity for us then," he chuckled as the words spilled out your lips.
A pity indeed.
He thought mildly as he took his seat next to you. You waved for someone to bring another thing of ale before turning to him and motioning to the guild emblem on his tunic.
"I see you have been busy since we last spoke," He looked down at where you were pointing, and another thin smile rose on his lips.
"I guess," He paused. "I have your queen to thank,"
"The she-elf, to be exact," one of the other maidens said from the rim of her mug before taking a nervous sip as he turned his dark eyes on her. She's been adamant about getting you both to Middle-Earth," you kicked the fellow maiden from underneath the table. She winced and reached down to rub it soothingly.
He knew that he had Galadriel eating right out of the palm of his hand, but he wished to have you doing more than eating out of the palm of his hand. As he looked down at you, that light aura reappeared as he tried to twist the darkness against you.
Still protecting your mind from any deeper manipulation.
A woman sat a mug in front of him, and he took a sip before stating his opinion on the maiden's statement. It was not like he needed the liquid, but the deception was required to continue until it was the right time.
"The she-elf and I do not have aligned motives, and I have no wish to return to where I came from." It seemed to make your eyes sparkle at the mention of him not wanting to leave. The aura dropped just in the slightest, allowing him to manipulate the dark thread a little.
He watched as your face changed slightly before you took a nervous sip of your drink. If he could show that dark, nebulous smile, he would have. Watching you fall just that little deeper into the darkness was a joy, even if it was becoming a challenge.
But he liked challenges, and to break the sweet, innocent woman you were would be even lovelier than the rest.
His desire for you to be his was ever palpable in his mind. No mere mortal had ever caught his attention like you had. He had never been blinded by manly desires or instinctual needs; there was no need for it when you were a Maia. But he began succumbing to these desires the more he lived in this form and understood why Men, Elves, and even Dwarves fought wars over the feelings now burning intensely in his mind.
Though you were not some mere mortal. He had sensed it, as had Galadriel. But it was not his place to reveal the secret, only yours.
"So you wish to stay then?" you asked with a drunken smile.
"Like I said, I wish for a peaceful life—one away from the turmoil of war and death." He said with measured precision as if he had been practicing it for hours.
"So you would just stand idly by while your people are murdered?" His eyes narrowed at you before sitting up straighter against your gaze.
"It is not my place to intervene."
"But you are their king," You said a little too boldly for his liking. Sure, the illusion of his kingly hood was a mere construction of the she-elf's imagination. He was surprised that you even believed it.
"I am not, my lady," his voice lowered before taking a sip. He stared off into the distance until he felt the warm touch of your delicate hand against his bicep. The feeling sent an electric sensation down his arm as the darkness seemed to surface against your touch, covering his body in a dark encasing as your light seemed to glow even more.
"Then why can't you be?" You asked slowly with a raised brow.
"I've done evil," He breathed. "Things I care not to burden your delicate ears with." A warmth filled your face as he spoke the words.
"We've all done evil things, Lord Halbrand, things we are not proud of, things we hold onto in the deepest swells of our minds, locking them away in hopes we never see them again." This surprised him. Her statement had genuinely surprised him. What evil could a fair maiden like yourself have done for you to push it away from your mind?
Sure, when he touched your dreams, he found darkness—hollow darkness, regret, and hatred for yourself. This is what he latched onto when trying to manipulate you. But nothing had ever come of it. Not even an image presented itself.
What demon walked beneath your beautiful eyes that you would utter such a statement?
He craved to find out even more now. Milk it for everything it was worth, hoping it would sway you to his cause.
"I doubt the evil you have done compares." You snorted.
"You would be surprised, my lord," Your eyes grew distant momentarily as overwhelming sadness and regret filled your heart. The aura dropped even more, and he took that chance to wind another dark thread against your shimmering one, drawing even more of that darkness you carried to the surface.
"We must leave you," one of the other maidens said as they both stood and laid coins on the wooden table. "We need to rise early; do not stay out too late, " she said to you with a small smile before they both made their way back down the road towards the palace.
"I should probably be getting back as well," You tried standing but almost tripped over the bench in your drunken state. He grabbed you and tried steading you.
"I hardly think it is wise for you to walk back alone," He paused, a smile touching his lips as his dark green eyes met yours. "You never know what may follow you in the dark."
"I am perfectly capable of protecting myself," He chuckled and shook his head.
"Not in this state, little one," Your face warmed, and your core twisted as the words fell out of his lips. You liked it when that silvery tongue spoke words like that. It was intoxicating against your drunken mind and almost made you drop the innocent facade you clung so profoundly to.
"You would be surprised,"
The streets were familiar to you, and you knew how to get back in your drunken state, but you wished to talk to Halbrand for longer. So, instead of taking the usual route, you made a few other turns until you walked up towards one of the many courtyards surrounding the palace.
His grip on you was light as he steadied you, carefully taking each step as you ascended the marble stairs. "Can we take a moment? I wish to pick your brain a little more, Lord Halbrand,"
"Of course," he said as you motioned to one of the sitting areas. You took a seat and smoothed your hands over the fabric of your dress as he sat next to you. Your eyes looked up at the stars that were on display tonight. They seemed even brighter than usual. "What would you like to know?"
"Why do you shake under your responsibility?" You say, not taking your eyes off the heavens.
"My responsibility has always been to myself, no one else." You turn to him, touching his stubbled cheek, rubbing your thumb across the cool skin. Eyes locked as you pondered the following words to exit your mouth. He looked almost shocked by your touch.
"I doubt that," you breathed. "You have seen evil, done evil, and still your eyes tell me you wish for vengeance against those who have wronged you." He took your hand off his cheek and lowered it to your lap.
"You know nothing of what you speak of, my lady, just the workings of your drunken state." You moved to grip his wrist, and to his surprise, the darkness rose in you. It was not his, but yours. He watched as your eyes darkened and pulled him in.
"But I do," You breathed in the darkened night. "I know the pain you carry. The revenge you seek." You paused and moved to pick at the stitching in your gown. "It eats at me like some demon that craves flesh and blood to sate its sadistic tendencies."
Halbrand could not help but smile at the cruel irony of it all. You believed herself a demon when the very thing you spoke of was sitting right next to you, listening and praying on this darkness like some leech.
"When I was younger, I was a wild soul and seemed to always be drawn towards the sea like it called out to me. My mother was a Númenórean from a house unknown to anyone. I never bothered to ask." You shrugged but continued. "I never knew my father. Mama had said he was long gone before she whisked me away to Middle-Earth. We settled in a seaside village with other pilgrims, and life seemed picturesque."
You swallow hard against the next revelation. The next part you had never uttered to another soul, sworn to secrecy by your mother, and you had carried it for a few hundred years. "Then came the war; our village was ravaged by Morgoth's forces. In a desperate attempt to save my village and my mother, I pulled on my usage of the magicks that resided in me, flooding the village and wiping out every living soul there, including my mother." Tears formed on your cheeks as the screams filled your ears once more, drawing out the darkness you had pulled on at that moment to protect the people you cared for. "I later found her after the waters receded; she still clung to life. There, she told me of my father, a fair man with white shimmering hair and icy blue eyes whom she met while sailing the shores. They fell in love and had me; he told her he was a Valar and showed her things. Then he gave her this." You produced a necklace from underneath your gown.
The beautiful blue jewel sparkled in the light as Halbrand's eyes grew. The shimmer of protection gleamed against the stone, and now he understood the aura surrounding you, making it even more of a challenge.
This revelation only complicated things more. But he could not hold back his surprise in the slightest as he gazed upon the daughter of a fucking Valar. One as powerful as any witch or even Maia like himself. If he could turn you, there would be no stopping him or even you on your joined conquest of healing Middle-Earth.
You thumbed the jewel, trying to calm your nerves slightly before continuing. "He told her he would always protect her and me in our darkest moments. But he was not there even after we begged him to free us from Morgoth's forces. So I turned to the dark and brought havoc, smiting him and all the other Valar for standing idly by. I have never touched that part of myself since then."
Before you could continue, his pillowy lips met yours in soothing calmness. You melted into him and let your drunken thoughts run wild as his fingers traveled to grasp your chin. Those tears that once fell on your cheeks were now wiped clean by the fiery man engulfing you. Your fingers moved wind into his loose, brown waves as he fought your lips for dominance.
A whimper fell from your lips as he pulled away, leaving you breathless and even more dizzy than before. "Your secret is safe with me." He breathed against your lips.
Now he had an in.
And now the real work would begin.
#halbrand x reader#halbrand x you#sauron x reader#the rings of power#halbrand#sauron#rings of power fic
209 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here's a short, pro Nesta fic idea; Nesta meets a sailor in one of the taverns she frequents, and after some small talk, makes the decision to pursue her dream of travelling. She leaves after saying goodbye to Elain and Feyre, but largely ignoring the rest of the IC, which Feyre doesn't like. At first, shares letters with her sisters, mostly small talk, and minor updates. However, after a while, Feyre decide Nesta's 'well enough' and healed so she can 'come home'.
She refuses.
She tries for a while, only for her and Elain to become increasingly distressed at Nesta's refusal to return, until eventually, there's radio silent between them. Then, about a decade or two later, the IC are desperate to find the Trove, and knowing Nesta won't come willingly, send Azriel/Morrigan to get her. They find out where she is, winnow there, grab her, and winnow back to the river hous, where Cassian is in shambles after not seeing her, Elain and Feyre run to hug her as if they didn't have her essentially kidnapped, only for Nesta to shove them away, pissed.
An argument starts, where the IC yell at Nesta, Nesta yells at them, and eventually, the door opens as another woman barges in, wearing a glowing friendship bracelets and matching robe to Nesta, and yelling at Feyre and Elain for ruining her (Nesta's) wedding day.
What do you think? Should I write this? Any theories as to where this is going?
#anti inner circle#nesta deserves better#anti rhysand#anti ic#anti acosf#pro nesta archeron#pro nesta#anti amren#anti cassian#anti mor#nesta archeron deserves better
247 notes
·
View notes
Text
Allure of darkness
❛ Let's make a deal: if you beg me to fuck you again, you will be mine from now on ❜
Author's note: MDNI. This is the first chapter of a fic you can find on Ao3 here. OC (y/n) is afab and uses she/her, no body type or any characteristics specified so you all can identify with her 🖤 Timeline is canon compliant i guess (?)
Content: yami sukehiro x reader, smut, rough sex, vaginal sex, dom/sub, oral sex, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink
As surprising it was that you became a Magic Knight, it didn't shock anyone when you joined the Black Bull. Such a wasted talent you were, if only you were born in a noble family, everyone knew you would have been a shiny jewel for the Clover Kingdom, but you, born a peasant didn't have much hopes for your future. If it wasn't for that man.
The priest of your village begged you to visit the church and confess your sin of envy, seeing you getting greener and meaner day by day.
You deserved more than everyone else, that's what your face read.
Born a gifted kid, your talent succeeded any expectations, therefore, when at 14 your grimoire picked you, the world was ready to see you shine.
Speaking in tongues magic.
What a rare and unique grimoire.
You were just a sprout when that spellbook appeared before your eyes.
Thin as a spring daisy, latched to your childhood dreams, your inner wisdom was always a sign that something bigger was coming your way.
That day, surrounded by all your friends, you played imagining what type of magic would have chosen you.
Water magic would have been so beautiful to wield, spatial magic would have helped you travel around the world, god you were so excited to see your natural talent.
Your mother had food magic, she would replenish mana thanks to her meals while your father's stone magic was celebrated in the whole Clover Kingdom, even nobles would rely on him to build their palaces. It was all coming up to you, wasn't it?
Your mother cried tears of pride, your father clapped his strong hands when you, small and bubbly, got picked by that majestic grimoire.
Speaking in tongues magic, the wise men of the village were enthusiast for the recognition you would bring. With your talent you were going to be able to decode the most ancient tomes, discovering parts of history still kept secret. Your future seemed set in stone: after years of deep studies, you would have reached the Capital, and joined the Wizard King and served him, opening doors to unknown worlds with your magic.
But then it all went wrong.
Your father fell ill and couldn't continue with his work as before.
The less money he brought home, the less provisions you could afford.
Food at the village market seemed always more expensive, affecting both your parents magic. If your mother couldn't cook, your father's mana couldn't really catch up.
Nor you could pay for healers.
There was only one painful but inevitable solutions.
With a tight heart you gave up your studies at the academy to find a job in town that could provide for your family.
With the weight of your home on your shoulders, you served ale and stews at the village tavern, always with a smile, but crying inside.
You watched them all leave for the Capital, your childhood friends and their not-so-special magic.
You grew colder and crueler, blaming fate or whoever weaved the strings of life for what they did to you.
They were out there, with their common powers, mingling with other commoners, while you were a sparkling diamond forced to stay under the dirt.
Someone like you, able to decode and translate ancient inscriptions had to spend your nights among drunkhards who never knew when to keep their hands at bay.
You deserved more than that, you were born for more than that.
All that talent couldn't have gone to waste.
Always more isolated, your family started to grow worried.
Lost in your thoughts, in private studies you started doing on your own, sneaking books from the local library in your bag, they believed you were going down a dark path.
Who knew what kind of books you were studying, what kind of obscure magic you were uncovering.
Darkness called to you, like a siren with her hypnotic song.
You were going to take your destiny in your hands.
If life wasn't going to give you what you deserved, you were going to take it yourself.
No matter what.
There was a certain allure to darkness you couldn't deny.
The books you were learning to read on your own were so full of wonders and secrets. It didn't matter how exhausted you were, if you came home from at the tavern at the break of dawn, you looked forward to be hiding under your blankets with even a small light to read your stolen tomes.
Of course you would return them, at some point.
Your parents never noticed them, or if they did, they never asked.
There was so much out there, demons caged in the depths of hell, monsters of ancient times. All with magic so undefeatable you couldn't begin to imagine them.
Stories of the first Wizard King, of the Demon he slayed.
There was so much in that world and you deserved to be a part of it.
You deserved to have a piece of power.
That night was particularly ectic at the tavern. You hated those kind of nights, when dozens of failed Magic Knights reunited to drink to forget their missed opportunities. Soldiers retired after injuries, former knights that served their time in prison after the Wizard King found them guilty of taking advantage of their role.
They were just the worst, they started the night already quite high and at the end of your shift even your clothes stenched of beer and sweat.
-Born to be a scholar, forced to clean after drunkhards's vomit- You brushed the floor hard, covering your nose from the disgusting smell.
-What was it, y/n?!- Your boss's voice came loud booming from the kitchen.
-Nothing, nothing!- You groaned with annoyance.
-Get your ass back here, The Table asked for more ale-
''Of course they did'' You made sure to keep that thought for yourself, but not for long -Look, boss, are we sure we want to keep doing this? We are losing customers everytime someone sits at The Table, is it really worth it?!-
Your boss was an old greasy man, short in height but full of rage.
-Since when I asked your opinion on business matters?! When I will need the opinion of a vomit-cleaning maid I will come to you! Now, off you go and you make sure I don't hear your voice for the rest of the evening!-
The unspeakable curses you swallowed burned your throat, but you knew better than crying, at least in that man's presence.
You waited for when you were under your blankets, surrounded by your books, to cry your misfortune.
-Are you still here?!-
-I'm going, I'm going- Your hand slightly shook when lifting the overfilled tray.
If you didn't burned down that place yet it was all because of the little money that kept your family going.
The smell of alcohol filled your nostrils and made you dizzy as soon as you stepped into The Table room.
The Table room was the aisle reserved for bets: the worst kind of men, usually addicted to gambling spent their nights and their fortunes at The Table.
Whether it was cards, chips, dice, at The Table, those men would even bet on their life.
Many times they were left with nothing to offer and tried to sneak you in their games, someone even tried to put your body on the table, as if you were a good they could exchange.
As if you would have given yourself to a loser like them.
-Here is the beauty of the house! Are you included in the meal deal, precious!- Someone chanted as soon as you stepped in.
-Ah ah ah, I never heard that- You rolled your eyes and landed the cups on the table.
-Bold of you to even ask for a meal deal, when you are not even paying a shitty dime, sir-
The room boomed with a roar for your comeback.
Insulted in his pride, the man tugged at your apron, forcing you to bend down.
God, he reeked.
-Listen here, precious, shoot another of your smart comebacks at me and I will make you pay for the meal deal, one way or another-
As if he could intimidate you.
You snatched back your apron in place -Sure thing, sir, as if you can afford me-
Now a new sound surprised you.
A laugh you never heard before caught your attention among the others.
Your eyes quickly scanned the table of the loyal vile customers, and immediately your heart skipped a beat.
Wow.
There was a man there, he had never been here before you were certain of it. You knew all those fools by name, and the stranger was definitely a new entrance.
God, what was a man like that doing there?
-She surely has a silver tongue!- The man then pointed a pocket knife to your harasser, with a dark snarl he threatened -I think you will want to think about it twice before speaking like that to the lady, asshole!-
You stood still like a salt statue. No one ever stood up for you, especially not like that, holding the drunks at knifepoint.
That stranger had awakened something dormient in you.
A thirst for life that made your blood boil.
His voice was baritonal, almost coming from the pits of hell, with a charm to it that made it impossible to forget.
Almost magnetic.
His eyes were like those of a hawk.
Foreigner, you were sure, no one had eyes like that in the kingdom of Clover.
Sharp, gleaming.
Wild.
Everything about that foreigner called to parts of you you believed dead for good.
His six pack and pecs were almost tearing the fabric of his white tank top apart.
His biceps as big as your head.
God, he was immense and the more you stared at his rough fingers playing with a cigarette, the more your mind went blank.
The foreigner took a drag on the thin cigarette and your throat ran dry.
The way his lips sucked on the end and breathed out the smoke made your legs quiver.
-Are you going to stand there and stare much longer, my love?-
He didn't even acknowledged you, yet he knew somehow.
Fuck.
With a jump you left -I'm not your love, asshole-
That laugh dug inside you -We will see about that-
Needless to say you couldn't just focus on anything that night.
Your boss noticed it, how you dropped plates, forgot orders, misplaced tables.
-What is it with you tonight?! God you are so useless-
What was with you? You wished you knew.
There was a man at The Table, among the worst ones you knew, that got under your skin with just his voice.
How dared he calling you ''my love'', how dared he made fun of you for staring at him?
There had to be something you could do about your blushing cheeks.
-Hey boss- You tried to not want to go back to The Table room, but you started looking forward for them to order more drinks, so that you could catch a glimpse of him -Do you know who is tha guy? I have never seen him here-
The short man peaked through the door and chuckled -Tsk, is he back for real?-
So he knew him.
Your boss made a happy face, brushing his palms.
That wasn't a good sign.
-That...- He pointed with his thumb -...is one of the biggest losers I've ever seen-
You curled your lips, well, that was disappointing.
So handsome and yet a loser.
He wouldn't sit at The Table after all.
Now, you noticed something that those bunch of drunk pigs would never be able to.
He noted down his points and strategies for game in a language from so far away.
A language you knew well and studied in your books.
But god, was he a loser for real.
Your boss was right, that handsome, muscular foreigner, had already lost his shoes and jacket, after having no more money to bet on.
Everytime you had to serve his table you had to hold your breath, to not get lost in his smell, of cigarettes and oils.
His grey eyes always locked with yours, as if he perceived you coming before you even stepped in.
And you couldn't resist them.
The way he looked at you was...no, you didn't want to think about it.
He was a drunk and a loser.
How could he even lose with such easy cards?
All night long you wanted to try and do something, a test, and finally when everyone was a bit too drunk to notice, you took your chance.
-Midori- The moment you said that word, he lifted his head quickly.
Bingo, you were right.
He must have thought to be completely wasted, he even started hearing his own native language now.
But as surprised as he was, never taking his eyes off you, he picked the green card from his hand and threw it on the table.
To the other players's discontent.
He won.
And for the rest of the night, you played with him, cheating for him under everyone's nose.
He clearly loved gambling but had no idea how to play, so it was you everytime you brought cups of beers to suggest him, in his own language, the colors, the numbers, the cards to pick.
Slowly, the foreigner won back his shoes, his jacket and started gaining the others players's money.
It never happened before, which made The Table room want to witness that unique event.
Why did you want that man to win? Maybe because his satisfied laugh freed all the butterflies in your stomach, maybe because for once you met someone more interesting.
Or mostly, it was because you loved to have his eyes on you.
Always scanning your ass whenever you turned your back, or your breasts whenever you bent on the table.
For the first time since you started working at the tavern you wished your shift never ended.
But it did, as always.
Your boss gave you your pay for the day, less than the half of what you deserved, but better than nothing.
It was dark and chill outside, you loved to feel the cold wind on your face after a night in the tavern.
The dark of the night shielded you from your troubles and the cold washed you from the dirt.
With your coat under your arm, you slammed the door open to leave for good.
God, you hated that bell on the doorframe.
At first you didn't notice him, hidden in the shadows, but the moment the tail of your eye catched the frame in the corner, you gasped and jumped.
-FUCK!- You almost dropped your belongings from the scare -God, you scared me!-
Yet, he didn't seem impressed.
Leaning on the wall, foot against the stone to enhance the size of his thick thighs through the marroon leather pants, lighting a cigarette.
The man stretched his arm, offering you the packet.
-Want a smoke?-
At loss of words you didn't know how to react.
If it was anyone else you would have ran away, or attacked them, but him you felt you could trust.
You shouldn't have, your conscence was trying to talk to you, you don't talk to strangers who drink and gamble and spend the night staring at your ass.
-No, I don't smoke-
He shrugged -Better for your health, I guess-
-Wha...what are you doing here?-
In the dark he looked intimidating, as if he belonged to the night,
as if he was born from the shadows.
His tanned skin, his dark brown hair, the rougly shaven beard.
Everything about him screamed wilderness.
And it called you.
-What, a man can't enjoy a smoke at night without being harassed now?-
He loved to play.
You rolled your eyes -As if you haven't stared at my tits all night-
The man laughed -God, you do have a silver tongue, don't you? Does that pretty mouth of yours ever get you in trouble?-
-More than you can imagine-
He lifted an eyebrow, intrigued -And do you have a name to accompany your brains?-
You swallowed.
Never give your name to a stranger in a dark alley.
But when you thought, your mouth already gave it off.
-And you, do you have a name to accompany all those muscles?-
The foreigner put down his foot -You don't know who I am?-
Were you supposed to?
-I mean, your reputation preceeds you. You really are bad at cards-
He offered you his hand to shake -Yami Sukehiro-
Sukehiro.
You shook his hand and the size difference made you weak at your knees. His hand seemed to devour yours.
-Yami. It means darkness-
Yami squeezed your hand, and perhaps taking advantage of the grasp, he reduced the distance between the two of you.
Forcing you to lift your head to look at him.
-What does a girl that knows the language of the Land of The Sun does in a tavern, serving beers to gamblers?-
That confirmation almost made you wanna jump around like a kid -So I was right, you really come from the Land of The Sun!-
Yami looked genuinely surprised, but was trying his best to not show it.
Clearly failing.
-It's the first time I meet someone that actually knows my country, leave alone speaks its language. How?-
And it was the first time for you that someone acknowledged your talent. For you it was just natural, but it wasn't.
It was your uniqueness.
-My magic. Speaking in tongues-
Yami took a deep drag, the smoke that came out of his mouth dissolved close in your face, giving you an hint of what his lips might have tasted like.
-Never heard that one-
No one ever asked you, and now you were afraid you would have annoyed him by talking about it.
-Oh, it's...uh, well...the name says it all I mean-
Yami shook his head, leaning on your face, slowly.
So slow you could feel your cheeks starting to burn like bonfires.
-I want you to tell me about it...or did the cat eat your silver tongue?-
The effect he had on you was the closest thing you knew to being drunk.
You felt light, floating from the floor in his presence.
Your mind blank, all your ability to speak gone to hell.
You started muttering.
-Oh, well...uh- You scratched your head. Did you look good? Were you a mess? -My magic allows me to...know languages. All of them, actually! From all countries, even those far from here. And ancient ones, lost ones too! I can speak demon language, or angelic language if that matters. Yours is pretty easy compared to those, you know, and...-
Yami stopped you, pressing a finger on your lips.
You halted and stopped breathing all of a sudden.
-This brings me back to my first question. What does a girl like you do in a tavern like this?- His eyes, darting you, digging into your skin -Why are you not a Magic Knight?-
Ouch, did he have to ask that?
-Did I strike a nerve?- Yami tilted his head in way that reads...concern?
You lowered your gaze, ashamed.
-No, no it's okay. I just..I just can't afford it-
Yami smoked, and let you continue speaking.
-My family is not doing well. My father used to work in the Capital, but then he fell ill and my mother is a healer so we really are not swimming in good waters right now. I wanted to try and become one, I did, I studied in an academy for a while but yeah, my family needs food and money, not books-
Yami hinted a smile, the muscles at the corner of his mouth slightly twitched but he didn't speak for a few seconds.
-Next week the Capital is hosting the yearly exam to recruit Magic Knights. Come-
For a moment, you believed he was truly stupid. Didn't he listen what you just said?
-I can't, Yami, my family won't survive without me! And it would be a stupid waste of time, I have no combat skills or anything like that, I would never be chosen, so...-
-If you got chosen though, your family will be provided everything they need, they pay good money you know-
At this point, you just wanted to leave.
You turned away, but Yami grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him.
Too close.
Too dangerous.
-What the fuck are you doing! Are you deaf or what?!- You kicked him on the knees and that made him laugh loud.
So loud he could have woken the neighbourhood.
-And you say you don't have combat skills?! Listen to me very well, y/n- He had your wrist tight against his chest.
His pectorals were so swollen, you just couldn't help yourself.
-You will be chosen- Yami sounded so confident in himself.
-What?!-
-You have a power that Jul..the Wizard King would never, for anything in the world, want to miss out. The things you could do, knowing the ancient languages and the dark tongues...come with me to the Capital-
You were lost in his eyes, in the inflections of his voice, how it made his chest vibrate.
-Why, do you also want to become a Magic Knight? Will you attend at the exam?-
He smiled, and tucked a strand of your hair back behind your ears with a gentleness that had nothing to do with his brute attire.
-Yeah, I will attend-
What were you? A stupid teenager, thinking of running away in the night with the first handsome man that you met?
Yet, his darkness was so compelling, and his body so inviting.
You noticed how his eyes had dropped on your lips, the movement of his tongue, licking his.
Hungry.
Feral.
-Suddenly so quiet?- Yami pressed you against his chest. You could feel his heart racing -Where did your silver tongue go, uh?-
Where did your self control go, you had no idea.
The proximity to Yami Sukehiro, a stranger from a foreign land, that sparked in you again the wish to pursue your talent, made you feel like an animal.
All about him called to you, even his name.
You loved how it rolled on your tongue.
Sukehiro.
You wanted to whisper it over and over.
And how immense he was compared to you, that really stole all reason in your mind.
Your body was reacting to him, since the first moment you caught a glimpse of him, he woke your instincts.
You were thirsty, and hungry for him, for a man like that you could have really lost control.
-You are still staring, y/n- Yami lifted your chin -My eyes are up here-
Your lips were dry -I could say the same about you, you have been staring all night, Sukehiro-
-Mhm- He hummed -Calling me by my first name, now? Who gave you the permission, my love?-
Your cheeks set ablaze and your legs trembled.
Between your thighs you could feel a wet pond forming, your clit pulsing everytime he spoke.
-I don't need anyone's permission to do anything-
Yami was taking deep breaths, all of his muscles were tense.
But after your last reply, he sighed with a groan and grabbed your face.
-Show me what else that cursed mouth can do-
Yami devoured your lips, invading your mouth with his tongue and moaning when he found yours was ready to return the kiss.
You licked him per instinct, followed the movement of his lips.
God, he tasted like heaven, you almost fell on your knees.
His kiss was wild, needy, brutal.
-You are so good at it...-He panted in between kisses, before penetrating your mouth again with his tongue.
He knew what you liked, how you couldn't tell.
-Bite me- You sighed -My lips, bite me-
Yami still had your face in his hands, as if you could have escaped him.
He bit you and when he did, he opened his eyes, making sure he wasn't hurting you.
You wanted it, nothing could have hurt.
Yami drowned his head on your neck, where your skin was thin and that sent a shiver down your spine, making your toes curl.
-Fuck, Sukehiro-
-Do you like that?- He bit your skin, it stung and burned, and he sucked.
And sealed his mark with a lap of his tongue -Do you like being marked?-
You nodded, in trance.
Having his mark, the mere thought made your pussy wetter than it already was. Just by kissing him, your womb was on fire, now that he was marking you, thin trails of wetness started flowing down your thighs.
Not anyone, but him.
The mark of this stranger appeared out of nowhere, sent by the darkness.
He was in your destiny, that was the only reason you could find for letting go so casually with a stranger.
This stranger though, you wanted him.
-I want you- Your moan made Yami clench his fist.
-Say that again, y/n- His low voice echoed on your neck and you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair.
-I want you, Sukehiro-
That must have been the signal.
Because Yami bent down and grabbed your ass in his full hands, gave it a rough squeeze and lifted you.
After locking your thighs around his waist he looked at you straight in the eyes.
A hunter with his prey.
-Good, because I have been wanting to fuck you all night-
Yami Sukehiro was a man of instinct, he knew how to trust his guts and that night for some reason, he sensed that it was his lucky night.
Ever since he stepped into the tavern, ready to lose all his belongings as always, he knew that he wouldn't have left with empty hands.
When he saw you, his primeval awareness locked in. He was an apex predator and you were the perfect mate.
Your snarl, your smart replies, everything about your rudeness was appealing to him. And god knew how he struggled all night to hide the boner in his pants everytime you showed up.
How you milk-smooth skin shone under the candle light, the softness of your breasts made him starve.
The perfect shape of your ass filling your clothes was mesmerizing, how many hands of cards did he lose while lost staring at you walking away, just to catch a glimpse of it.
But there were too many layers of skirts for his liking, thank goodness he found a remedy for that.
When he groped your ass to lift you, his fingers dug into your cheeks, spreading them apart.
Yami kneaded your ass and sneered when you mewled in his mouth.
-Oh yeah? You wanna fuck me?- Repeating his words made you come to terms with the truth: he was gonna fuck you, and the anticipation was almost feverish. You just couldn't wait any longer, each step Yami took on the staircase that led to the rooms upstairs of the tavern made your heart flutter.
Confidently, Yami didn't miss a single step, while still licking and biting your jaw.
-Mhm mhm- He confirmed -I wouldn't have left this village without making you mine first-
Yami noticed how his words affected you: your panties were soaked under a couple underskirts, so soaked that your wetness had reached his white shirt and spread -So wet for me already, and I haven't even touched you yet? You don't seem so bossy now, do you-
It wasn't your fault, but his.
You never met someone like him, someone that made you fall for lust so quickly. For all you knew, he could have been a criminal of the worst grade, but it didn't matter.
Your brain was fogged by desire, all your body ached for him.
Your breasts were squished against his pecs, your nipples hardened and got so sensitive just by friction that electricity jolted through your nerves; your thighs were numb and your core, well, you were trying to mantain a certain decency to not beg him to fill you right away.
Yami kicked the door of the room he rented, the wooden plank slammed against the wall and he didn't really cared about making sure he closed it behind his back, than he threw you on the mattress.
-Sukehiro...-You gasped, stretching your arms for him, needing those muscles back on you, that scent overtaking you.
Yami stood at the end of the bed, kicking his boots in a corner and brought his hands on his white top.
A translucent stain of your wetness made his skin visible through the fabric.
-Look what you have done to my favourite shirt, naughty-
Hungrily, you reached for his pants, with your fingers you tried to undo the strings and bottons that separated you from pleasure.
While you untied the knots, Yami stripped off his shirt, leaving your mouth dry and your eyes glazed.
-You are so hot- The words left your lips like you were hypnotized.
His six pack was so defined, hard at touch and over his bulky pectorals a thin layer of dark hair.
-Take your fucking clothes off- Yami commanded with a sigh, his chest rising with deep breaths.
He wanted it as much as you did.
You didn't let him repeat himself, as soon as your corset came undone and your tits were revealed to him, Yami let out a soft groan.
-Fuck-
His pants disappeared from sight, making you aware of the biggest cock you ever seen.
You had good partners in your history, you never complained but this...there was no way that could fit inside you.
And your pulsing cunt was aching for the challenge.
-Fuck, you are so big- You licked your lips, looking at Yami grabbing his cock in his hands and stroking it.
Shivers spread across your cunt, his full hand could barely circle the girth of that rock-hard cock.
In the moonlight, droplets of precum glistened on the head and leaked all acroos the veiny lenght.
Yami stood proud of his size and his build, he was born to be a dominant, that was clear as day.
It was clear for his presence turned you into a mute goldfish.
Speechless, a mess of pants and purrs, you welcomed Yami Sukehiro, the stranger that entranced you with his darkness, between your legs, where he tore apart your skirts with his bare hands.
-Lemme see you, lemme see how...-Yami lifted your legs, pushing your knees onto your chest, exposing your naked, gleaming, pussy.
He exhaled, a deep deep sigh sent a cool breeze over your soaked sex.
Like a soft rain over a fire.
Yami took his time to admire your naked body, after trying to imagine it all night through your clothes, his fantasy could have never made justice to the perfection you were.
The firm shape of your tits, how they mellowed in his fingers, your perky nipples and the way you squirmed as soon as he tickled them.
Your hips and waist, perfect for his hands to grab, he made sure to give them a good squeeze when he pulled you under him to assert his dominance.
And then, your pussy.
-This is all mine- He growled as he towered over you, bringing your legs on his strong broad shoulders.
Drunk in his gaze, you nodded.
-Yeah? Is your pussy all mine, my love?- He cucked his brows, faking a desperate expression. Probably making an impression of your face, pathetically needing him, all of him.
-Say it, I want your smart mouth to say your pussy belongs to me now-
There was something in the way he commanded you that turned your brain into mush.
Sterness, the magnetic tone of his voice, his dominating size.
-It's yours, Yami. Just please...- You bit your lips.
You begged? You were really begging now? What did this man do to you to reduce you to a cock begging submissive?
A wicked grin appeared on his lips, and Yami pushed himself slowly on you, his weight taking over all your resistance.
-Please...what? What were you trying to say?- The head of his cock nudged at your entrance with a wet sound.
You tilted your head back, fighting with the last ounce of self control you stored, but your clit said otherwise when Yami stroked it with his middle finger.
His cock ready to penetrate you and his hand playing with your bud, if your legs weren't kept tight on his shoulders, you would have kicked them in the air.
Yami made slow circles around your wet and swollen clit, and the stimulation was a trap for your pussy.
Through the growing louder moans, you felt his cock having an easier access inside you.
Your hole loosening.
God, Yami knew what to do with a woman's body.
And the idea of other having fucked that cock before, having his lustful eyes, made you burn with jealousy.
And desire to satisfy him.
Now he didn't stop fiddling with your clith when he bit your collabone and whispered again -Please...what? Say it, show me how dirty can that wicked mouth really be- Yami reached your mouth and chocked your moan with a kiss. His beard was tickling you, everywhere he left bites your skin was on fire -Are you only good at giving smart comebacks? You keep bragging about your tongue, until now I've only tasted desperation in it. Will you really beg me to fuck you, uh? Is that what you were trying to say?-
You were on the verge of tears, thirsty and hungry for Yami like your life depended on him taking your body.
You needed his touch, as rough as he could be.
You needed to disappear under him, to be conquered.
You never wanted anyone as much as you wanted that stranger.
-Sukehiro...please- With a hand you cupped his face and he followed your movement, curling his lips.
-What a good little girl you are, I will offer you a deal-
A deal?
If there was trouble you were way too late to escape now.
-What do you want?- Your voice a sob.
-You. I want you-
-I don't understand-
-If you beg me to fuck you, you will be mine. You will belong to me, your precious little cunt will belong to me-
Whatever it meant, it was what your body was screaming for.
Did he want to buy you? Were you going to be his concubine?
You should have reflected on it, on the consequences, on the conditions, but how could you reflect on anything when a man like Yami Sukehiro was feasting on your tits, filling his mouth with your soft flesh, nibbling and sucking your nipples.
-Fuck me- It finally escaped you -I am yours, Yami-
A hard, deep thrust filled you to the point of choking you.
Yami pounded his way inside you, with a fast thrust that made your pubic bones clash against his, and his balls smack against your ass.
His cock reached so deep inside you that you gasped for air, while he roared.
Your pussy stretched all at once to welcome his size but not enough.
Your muscles wrapped and squeezed his throbbing cock.
Yami didn't take his grey eyes off you, with a smile upon seeing you finally getting what you have asked for.
He didn't move, for as rough as his penetration was, he still realized how big he was for you and waited for your body to adjust to his size.
You grabbed a fistful of his hair.
-You are mine now- He said, low, like a promise from hell.
Yami was inside you, his cock throbbed against your walls, his head already nudging a spot that no one ever found before.
You moaned his name again and he grabbed your wrist, bringing it behind your head.
Then kissed you deeply while entwining his fingers with yours.
That kiss was different, less brutal, less carnal.
He kissed you like he...
No, you couldn't be that stupid. You didn't even know him, you knew nothing about him.
No strings attached whatsoever.
It was just casual sex, the best sex, but just casual.
Nothing else, right?
His kiss, slow, passionate seemed to say otherwise.
But when he moved his cock, you forgot about everything else.
In and out of your pussy, Yami started slowly to pount in you, so slow he made you die in anticipation for the next thrust, but deep and rough enough to make you scream.
-Now that's a sound I like coming from your mouth-
His teeth were once again on your neck, right under your jaw, your chin.
Yami was leaving you a necklace of lovebites.
The contrast between the pleasure of his cock in your cunt and the bites on your skin sent you in a spiral.
Your fingers reached for his shoulders.
-Faster- You moaned into his ear.
And faster he went.
Yami panted and moaned, he wasn't the kind of man that kept his pleasure all for himself, on the contrary he had no restraint when it came to growling for what your pussy did to him.
Each thrust faster than the previous, the smacking sound your pussy was making and the slippery movement of his cock were a sign of how both of your juices were mixing.
His precum mixed with your pleasure and leaked over your butthole and dripped on the sheets, already drenched by sweat.
-You like it like this, sweetheart? Is it fast enough for your needy pussy?- Yami smiled even through his growls and didn't even reacted when your nails scratched his back.
-You are a fucking asshole- You managed to say, his weight and his cock choked air out of you.
-You have no idea- Yami squeezed your tit and kept drilling you.
If he kept pounding that deep, you were sure he was going to break you in half, but your pussy was made for his cock, he was molding it in his shape and you just couldn't have enough of the sound of his voice.
Of knowing that that was you driving him crazy as much as he was doing with you.
-Where the fuck have you been until now?-
He finally arched his back when your nails scratched deeper, that question caught completely unprepared.
You wanted him, you wanted to please him.
-Tell me I'm yours, Yami-
Every word coming out of you almost incomprehensible.
-You are mine, you are fucking mine-
Every word coming out of him accompanied by a thrust.
That's all you needed to know.
You were his to please.
-I wanna ride your cock, Sukehiro-
He barely let you finish the sentence, that his hands were already on your hips, squeezing you and rolling over the bed.
Yami held you firm in place and now that you were sitting on his thick thighs, that you were observing his skin, coated by a shiny layer of sweat, you realized how truly big he was compared to you.
Your whole body would fit on one of his thigh only, his abdomen spread across the mattress, barely enough to contain him.
Yami crossed his swollen biceps under his head and rocked his hips, making you bounce.
-You said you wanted to ride me, are you just words?-
Fuck, what a piece of shit he was.
You wanted him to destroy you.
That arrogant sneer on his face made you grab his cock, wet of both your wetness and his precum, and bring it to your entrance.
It was heavy in your hand that couldn't circle it, and it smelled of heat.
A part of you, the most irrational and drunk of him, almost gave up on the desire to have him inside to taste him instead.
You wanted that massive shaft in your mouth, discover how much of it you would fit before you choked on it.
Discover the taste of that man, see him crumble for your lips.
But Yami had other plans for you: with another sudden and unexpected hump, he filled your cunt.
The meowing gasp you let out made him chuckle.
-Now that's more like that- He watched you lose that last crumb of sanity as you fall on his chest.
His cock drilled up to your stomach, a visible bulge rising on your womb, touching muscles and nerves no one ever touched before.
Looking for stability, grabbing his pecs, you stuck your tongue out in pure bliss.
Yami didn't miss the chance of sucking on your tongue and to make fun of your addiction -You really look cock drunk, sweetheart. Do you like being fucked like this?-
With his cruel fingers, he reached for your clit and as if his cock wasn't enough, he stroked it.
-Uh, you like being fucked like this? Naughty girl, look at your face-
The wetness of your pleasure was being stroked by Yami, spurting all over his hairy pube, his pounding reaching for your womb.
Like a predator breeding his mate.
-Ngh...Suke...hiro-
A new energy was growing inside you, an electricity that spread across your legs and down your spine.
-Yeah? Are you close to cumming?-
Your head nodded, eyes seeing stars.
With each deep pound he smacked in your pussy, his thighs slapped against your ass, a soft wet friction of sweat merged your skins together.
If he kept drilling at that depth and pace, you would pass out.
Your thighs grinded on him, with the intention of grasping every single inch of pleasure.
That take of charge made Yami moan.
Your pussy twitched when his voice reached your ear with a loud growl.
And you grinded again, locking your eyes on his.
-That's a good girl, keep doing that...fuck-
Inside you, that weight throbbed, readjusting your insides
Yami's cock was growing harder.
He tilted his head back, closing his eyes, lost in pure lust of your cunt clenching him.
Your walls sucked him in and out, the air suction with the lewd wet noises was a sign of how both your sexes were addicted to each other.
-Ya..Yami...I'm...-
Yami didn't open his eyes, but still found your hips, grabbing them tight, making it impossible for you to escape his next action.
-Cum on my cock, fuck- He roared, before rocking as fast as he could, fucking the air out of you -Cum on me, ugh-
Your climax blossomed in you like a flaming flower.
The spark ignited in your womb, a liquid light exploded as for a moment, you lost consciousness.
You came like you never came before.
Your legs outstretched and seizured, so did your back, like struck by a thunder.
Your cunt exploded on Yami's cock, tigthening, twitching.
Immediately, he was there to grab you.
As he rose to seize you in his arm, the movement pushed his cock even deeper in you.
-SUKEHIRO- You screamed, your nose invaded by the smell of sex and sweat that emanated from Yami.
His hot breath collided on your neck, while you disappeared into his embrace.
And he kept pumping his cock inside you, making sure of stealing every piece of orgasm out of you.
When his pace slowed and his breath became unsteady, your head spinned.
-Where do you want me to cum, answer quickly before I breed you-
His.
You wanted to be his.
-In my mouth- You hiccupped.
Yami remained in silence for a hot second, he wasn't sure he heard correctly, in the heat of the moment.
Did you say you wanted his load in your mouth? Didn't his ears deceive him?
-Say it again-
-Cum in my mouth, Yami. I want to taste you-
With manly arrogance, he lifted you from his cock, glazed by your juices.
Your pussy leaked your creamy orgasm on his thigh and with a sigh of relief your womb was freed by Yami's cock.
You felt empty now that he wasn't inside you anymore, already addicted to his presence and shape.
You laid on the edge of the mattress, legs spread and sore while he sat on his knees stroking his erection at full speed.
The wet pumping made Yami look aching to cum.
Head down and focused, his brow furrowed, chest going up and down in unsteady breaths.
You could tell he needed to cum just by how swollen his balls were.
-Will you be mine?- He growled under his breath, giving a hard stroke to his glistening head.
-I will be yours- You nodded, ready to take all of him.
Whatever that meant, you wanted it.
You wanted to be his.
You wanted to be ruined by this stranger you couldn't get enough of.
There was a before and a after Yami Sukehiro. You knew, the moment he first kissed you that no one else would have ever compared.
How could anyone compare to that strength, that stamina, that size.
-No one fucks like you do- Your body spoke for you, your brain was long shut down.
That confession erupted from you made Yami shudder.
Without ceasing to jerk off, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you towards him.
-Take it, open your mouth- He commanded, when your lips met with his hairy pube and the salty smell of his cock -Take it-
You obeyed, the reddened and swollen head of Yami's cock caressed your lips and your tongue, and the contact made him explode.
Yami bent on you, keeping your head firm as he released his load.
With your eyes up on him, you saw him hissing and roaring.
-Fuu..unf...Fuckk- He let go loud, beastly.
Suddenly your mouth was filled with a warm and thick liquid, the amount of Yami's seed was impressive.
How much did he need it, how long was he keeping all that.
And you did it, that was all for you.
Your effect on him and your doing.
His cock throbbed against your lips, shooting strings of sperm to decorate your tongue.
He tasted like salt, like heat, like lust.
Yami kept your head down until you drank him to the last drop.
And sighed, deeply, releasing you and abandoning himself back on the mattress.
Not before grabbing your arm and pulling you on his chest.
He swallowed, slicking his sweaty hair back.
He regained lucidity and caressed your back with the tip of his fingers -You alright?-
You lifted your head and nodded.
-Did you swallow my cum?!- Yami seemed surprised at the idea, as if he wasn't expecting that.
-Well, of course, that's why I wanted you to cum in my mouth-
Now Yami made a sound, resting his arm over his eyes.
Exhausted, relieved and utterly lost in you.
That wicked mouth of yours was going to be his ruin, he knew it.
Squeezing your cheeks he kissed you, savouring his own taste still lingering in your mouth.
A sloppy kiss, that's what you both needed after losing your minds in each other.
-You are a naughty, naughty, girl. Where did you learn how to fuck like that, uh?- He smacked your ass as he made himself cozy, lying on his side -Do your books say how to ride a man?-
You hid a laugh, tracing his hard muscles lines with your fingers -I had my experiences you know.
Yami's eyes darkened suddenly, the playful grin disappeared before he crashed onto your mouth again, forcing you to lay down with his imposing weight.
Slow, with soft petal kisses in between, never taking his eyes off you as he fought the urge to own you again.
-You are mine now-
Would have it ruined the mood if you asked what he meant? You really didn't care, for a part of you knew he was right.
That you would have looked for him in all the men you slept with.
Yami made you his.
-Only mine to kiss...- Yami licked under your jaw -...to touch...- Then he went low on your tits -...to fuck...- On your abdomen -...to ruin- And he stopped right above your clit, on your soft bushy pube.
Biting your lips you were already savouring the experience of Yami licking you, his mouth was so close.
-Jerk- You spat out when he cruelly crawled back to your face, with a playful smile.
He chuckled -Ready to go again, uh? You loved my cock that much?-
You nodded, scratching his light beard -I've never been fucked like this-
Yami gave you a squeeze on your hips and nudged his big nose against yours -You can say it outloud-
Yami Sukehiro snored, not that it surprised you that a brute like him would keep his rudeness even in his sleep, what surprised you was that his snoring woke you.
You forgot to have even fallen asleep.
He was sleeping like a babe, a soldier proud of his won battle, bicep under his head and one hand resting on his abdomen, one knee up to make a tent of the messed up sheets.
When you woke up you were still naked, covered in shivers after the sweat had cooled on your skin.
You must have fallen asleep together, after all you were both sore.
So sore that even rising from the bed pained you.
God, that man really fucked you like no one did, your legs were twitching from cramps.
You looked at him quickly, he was handsome when he slept. His chest rose in deep breaths and on his face was a dreamless serenity.
But you couldn't stay the night, what would have your boss said if he saw you coming down for breakfast with one of his customers, especially in the conditions you were?
What would have your parents said if they didn't see you at home by daylight?
It was all just sex, you reminded yourself.
You didn't know this guy, you didn't know his businesses.
No strings attached, just good, amazing, breath-taking, unforgettable sex.
When you gathered your clothes back they were a mess, completely torn apart, and then your eyes fell on something glittering in the dark.
You looked back, making sure Yami didn't wake from you stepping on the wooden tiles, and peeked inside his pouch.
There was a black shawl, or cape with a sygil embroidered on it.
A black bull.
That must have been the insigna of his gang or whatever. Under it, far more interesting, the leather sachet with the gold he won at The Table.
So much gold, what did he need it for?
He said he was going to the Clover Kingdom Capital, to attend the exam for the Magic Knights.
And asked you to join him.
It was then that a thought came to your mind.
You helped him win that gold, actually, if it wasn't for you he wouldn't have seen a dime, that meant that a big part of that win was also yours, right?
When Yami woke up the next morning he was alone and for a moment he believed that last night was a dream.
The most beautiful dream he ever had.
But your smell was still all over him, your sweet scent filled the room and yet, you were nowhere to be seen.
Not that he expected his breakfast in bed, but it was the first time that someone ran away in the middle of the night after fucking.
Usually it was him.
You were a surprise after the other.
Arrogant and clever, the best fuck he had and also a runaway.
Weren't you just a catch?
His insight was never wrong and led him to his pouch.
With a loud -AH!- Yami laughed seeing all of his gold vanished, and replaced by a small parchment in the leather sachet.
The ink was not completely dry yet, and it read
I'm sorry, I just took my part. I guess I will see you at the Magic Knight exams, don't forget it. You really have the best cock I ever fucked.
See you at the Capital, Yami Sukehiro
You clearly had no idea in what trouble you just put yourself.
Yami crumpled up your letter and put it in his pockets, somehow a way to feel you close and went about his day laughing.
-Oh, you will see my love, I will be there-
#black clover#black clover smut#yami sukehiro#yami sukehiro x reader#yami sukehiro smut#fanfiction#fanfic#black clover manga#manga fanfic#anime fanfic#smut#smut fic
275 notes
·
View notes
Note
I don't know if your request is open can you write Creator reader who favorites Zhongli, Venti, Nahida?
They need love ok 🙄
Yep yep, got it! Lemme see what I can pull off :)
Favoritism! With The Archons (Discluding Ei and Furina—)!
(Warning: Might Be OOC!)
Nahida
She honestly loves the attention you give her! She's really happy to get to spend time with you, and really get to know you and who you really are despite your title as the Almighty Creator.
Loves it if you play with her—and especially loves to learn the kind of games that you played before you re-descended down to Teyvat. There's UNO...and that's pretty much all that I can remember but you get the idea—
Loves visiting you in your dreams to see what you dream of. The Almighty Creator would surely have dreams of all forms filled with creative and inspiring ideas!
Nahida would 100% try to ask you to hang out with her through the streets of Sumeru. She has no shame :D And, if anything, her people would see this as a blessing.
"Come on, Your Grace! I want to show you somewhere I found!" Nahida would also take you to the Aranaras, where you would eat fresh fruit, make flower crowns, and even play some hide-and-seek.
She loves making and meeting new friends, the Almighty Creator is no exception! Spend some time with her as much as you can, Nahida will cherish it!
Venti
Hohoho, you're down to hang out with this carefree bard? Well, the first hangout will definitely be inside the most extravagant tavern of all time!
Yes, he means Angel's Share. Or the Cat's Tail. Man has his standards and he ain't afraid to take you there. Prepare for the best wine you'll ever taste, because Venti sure as hell is proud of the wine of Mondstadt.
Loves to share ballads and songs with you. Some of them are even based off on you! Loves when you give him your feedback as well.
Give him apples. He'll be happy—that's not saying a lot. Any apple dish, he will eat. Even if the apple is very little.
"Yahoo, Your Grace!~ Wanna hear a ballad this amazing bard has made for you?" Would absolutely perform these ballads during Windblume Festival, so please praise him :D
Zhongli
OSMANTHUS WINE TASTES THE SAME AS I— *Aggressive Truck Noises Driving Pass*
Take him out for food, buy him any gifts, ANYTHING. This man loves anything you'll give as well (trust me)
Just take some time to spend with him. Strolling through the area, the market, it doesn't matter—he cherishes all moments with you, as you are a friend (and more cough cough)
Osmanthus wine. Yes.
"Ah, Your Grace. I am blessed to know that you have the time to spend it with me. Please, allow me to pour you a fine cup of tea." If you're a tea lover, you both are gonna have a really good time.
Zhongli loves to share stories, so if you like to know more about Liyue's history, you came to the right guy :)
He's also a good listener, so you can also share stories and he will be rapt with attention. He loves every single story you tell.
Ghost Rebel Side Notes: My procrastination is impeccable. I'm on a living streak, clearly. Welp, I hope this satisfies you—hopefully, the next request doesn't take too long (watch me eat those words).
✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦
#genshin impact sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#sagau x reader#genshin self aware#sagau#sagau genshin#yandere sagau#genshin cult au#sagau brainrot#sagau cult au#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin imagines#genshin imact
671 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Rose by Any Other Name.
Summery : Princes Aegon and Aemond visit Highgarden to broker a marriage contract for the younger brother, while there Aemond finds himself in need of relief and doesn't care who with.
Characters : Aemond Targaryen x f!Tyrell reader
Warnings : Dub Con, abuse of title/rank, oral sex (male receiving), female masturbation, derogatory terms for women, alcohol consumption, cannon divergent, Aegon slander
Word count : 4.5 k
A/N : Sometimes my dreams are the unlimited pasta caste and sometimes they're this, sorry. While English is my first language I'm also profoundly dyslexic, I've done my best to minimise spelling and grammar issues but I'm there still are plenty.
The ground of a Highgarden stable yard was a mess of mud and straw as the eldest Tyrell daughter rode her horse sedately out of the stables and toward the open door of the outer keep. There had been days of fresh spring rains which had soaked the earth, swollen the rivers and brought the Reach alive in a riot of colour, from the azure blue of the sky to the lush green of the grasses in the animal fields and every colour of the rainbow in the food and flowers that grew and ripened under the warming sun.
“Outriders say the Princes are only a few hours away if the good weather holds so don’t go far,” the horse master reminded her.
“I’ll not go far,” she replied with an airy wave of her hand, the route she’d already set on in her mind was several hours over the roughest terrain the estate of Highgarden had to offer and would have her coming home a good while after the Targaryen visitors had arrived. She had no desire to stand in the muddy yard with her siblings to greet the princes when their wheelhouse rolled in.
Her father had started brokering the marriage contract over 9 months before, ravens flew back and forth between Highgarden and Kings Landing as her father bartered, first, with the Hand of the King and then with Queen Alicent. She’d looked through the letters herself, working out just how much she was worth to her father and the Targaryens. Finally the Queen suggested Aegon and Aemond visit the Reach themselves to complete negotiations and hold a formal betrothal.
If she was going to be sold off to Aemond Targaryen like a cow at a market she would at least spend her final day as an unbetrothed woman in the way she enjoyed the most. As she passed under the gate the horse beneath her gave a shiver of anticipation, as they turned toward the East and the low spring sun that dazzled her eyes the horse gave a snort of impatience.
Despite the lack of visibility Lady Tyrell angled the horse toward a small cluster of woods she knew were on the horizon, she clicked her tongue and gave the horse a short squeeze with her thighs. At this the horse broke into a trot and soon they were hidden by the sun and quickly disappearing over the horizon.
In the West, still 10 or so miles from Highgarden, the royal wheelhouse shuddered and bounced over the pitted road, shaking the two occupants and further fraying delicate nerves.
Aegon groaned and gripped at the set beneath him, his head hanging low and his eyes closed tightly as he tried to stop feeling like his head and body were moving in different directions.
“I can’t see why we couldn’t come on dragonback,” Aegon groaned as he fought the urge to vomit again.
Aemond remained in stoney silence, seething at his older brother and the despicable mess he was. The night before they had slept in a tavern on the edge of the Reach. Aegon has drunk his way through an entire barrel of rose wine and was found in the morning asleep in the stable between two sheep. The smell of him, a mix of spilt wine and sheep shit made Aemond's stomach roll.
“Isn't there some high born hole you can marry in Kings Landing?” Aegon complained as the wheelhouse gave a lurch and bumped over the poorly maintained track.
“Cease your incessant whining,” Aemond finally snapped, kicking his brother in the leg.
“Why did I have to come?” Aegon muttered, rubbing at his calf and glaring at Aemond through the lank locks of hair that had fallen over his face.
“I would have paid good money to leave you behind,” Aemond replied coldly.
“Why didn't you?!”.
“Mother insisted,” Aemond shrugged and turned away from his brother, pulling the window cover back with a long finger and watching disinterestedly at the countryside rolling by. If he ended up marrying into the Lords of this land, the first thing he'd insist on was better roads.
The wheelhouse turned sharply and Aegon groaned again, stuffing his cloak into his mouth to fight the nausea. Once it had passed he spit the fabric out, it tasted like sheep and possibly his piss.
“I fucking hope she's worth it,” he hissed.
The lady returned to Highgarden even later than she'd intended and in a far worse state. Her usually sure mount had startled while riding through a wooded area and thrown her off his back into a sticky quagmire, she’d landed mostly on her back and left side, the clothes had become soaked in mud that had been almost impossible to get off when it was wet. She had washed the worst of it off her face and hands in a small stream but her riding clothes remained caked in the muck.
“My Lady, what happened?” The horse master exclaimed as she trotted the beast into the stables.
“He threw me is all, no lasting damage done,” she replied as she dismounted and patted the horse's neck lovingly.
“Are they here?” She asked after a moment of heavy silence.
“Your father's taken them to his solar, he's not happy you weren't here to greet them,”.
She nodded sharply and handed the reins of the horse over to a stableboy.
“Plenty of hay, water and a few of those early golden apples,” she instructed before turning and heading into the yard.
She entered the building through a servants door, knowing she could make a path between there and her own rooms that wouldn't put her anywhere near her father's solar. She could be washed and changed and ready to entertain Princes long before dinner was served.
She stepped into a small anteroom off the kitchens where she knew she could take off her ruined riding gear, stripping down to her small clothes and riding boots, she left everything in a pile, making a note to tell her maidservant about it as soon as she saw the woman. She couldn't well wander the halls of Highgarden in her shift so she took a clean servants dress from the stack in the corner and pulled the shapeless linen over her head, tying it around the middle with a belt of braided cord. She splashed icy water on her face and did her best to tuck any loose hairs back into their braid before setting off for her rooms.
She'd almost made it back to her own chambers when a voice from behind spoke.
“Girl, come here,” it commanded and she stopped in her tracks.
No one in her father's household would speak to her like that, even if she was dressed as a servant. She turned slowly, the blood racing to her face when she looked at Aemond Targaryen for the first time.
He was still dressed for travel, with black leather trousers and a similarly hardy jacket with a high collar. The patch over his eye hid most of the damage but the deep red scar extended up his forehead and down his cheek, the only mark she could see on his otherwise glass clear skin. There was no flicker of recognition on his face, he obviously had no idea who he was speaking to.
“Come here,” he ordered again when she'd not moved toward him.
She opened her mouth to protest, to ask him who he thought he was speaking to but she stopped, closing her mouth and moving toward him. If she was going to marry this man she wanted to know what type of man he was and how better to learn than to see how he treated servants.
As she moved toward him she kept her eyes downcast, despite being desperate to look at his face in greater detail.
“What can I do for you, my Prince?” She asked meekly.
“Come with me,” he replied bluntly and turned, striding down the wide and brightly lit corridor toward the rooms that had been prepared for the two visiting royals.
At the door to his room he pushed it open and stepped back to allow her inside first before following and closing the door tightly behind the two of them. The sound of the latch clicking into place made her heart pound, she'd never been alone with a man before, she'd always been accompanied by her ladies or sisters but now she was alone in the guest wing behind a closed door.
She stood in the centre of the main room, a fire burned merrily in the grate and the Prince’s trunk stood open at the foot of the bed. She looked up at him from under her lashes and caught sight of his deep indigo eye watching her.
“Wh-what can I do for you?” She asked again, he'd catch on pretty quickly she wasn't part of the serving staff if he asked her to do much more than pour a glass of wine.
“I'm in need of some relief,” he said softly, his left hand moving instinctively toward the laced fount of his trousers and his fingers twitched.
Her brows furrowed in confusion, her eyes following the movement of his hand before snapping back to his face.
“I don't understand your meaning, my Prince,” she said softly, although she was fairly certain she did.
She had been raised her entire life in the safety and beauty of Highgarden, her innocence protected at all costs and her exposure to men limited as far as possible, but she still knew what men and women did together in the privacy of their bed chambers.
“The journey here was long and difficult and my brother is a terrible travelling companion, so before I meet with your sweet lady this evening and make dull small talk for hours I need you to get on your knees, open your mouth and suck my cock,”.
A shiver crawled across her body, she'd never been spoken to like that before and after the initial shock of his crass words she found herself excited by them. But while his words were exciting the reality of what he wanted was frightening, she could tell him who she really was and face the consequences of running around dressed as a servant and tricking a prince or she could do what he asked and face any additional consequences of sucking his cock and having to make dull small talk with him later.
“Did you hear me?” He demanded, his voice harsher now, “get on your knees, I've got no time for your wide-eyed innocent act,”.
“But, my Prince, I've never-,”.
He cut her off mid-sentence, anger flashing across his face.
“Get on your knees,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
The anger on his face and in his voice sent a thrill up and down her spine, making the tips of her toes and fingers tingle with anticipation.
Slowly she lowered herself to her knees, the thin and rough fabric of the dress rubbed uncomfortably on her knees and the cold of the stone floor seemed to soak into her skin like water.
“So you do understand, stupid little slut,” he muttered, moving toward her while unfastening the laces of his breeches.
She watched with wide eyes as he pulled his cock free from the fabric of his trousers and pumped his hand up and down the thick muscle. By instinct her mouth filled with saliva and she felt a rush of wetness and heat between her thighs.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded.
She ran her tongue over her bottom lip before doing as she'd been told, parting her lips and teeth as he came to stand directly in front of her, the head of his cock now bobbing directly in her eye line. There was a bead of clear fluid slipping from the thin slit at the head, she fought the urge to lean toward and lick it up.
The head of his cock was a dark red colour, completely in opposition to the alabaster white skin of his hands, he wrapped his fingers around the base and squeezed.
“Keep it open,” he said as he angled the shaft toward her lips.
This was her last opportunity, the very last second she could back out, tell him who she was, run screaming from the room but instead she relaxed her jaw a little and allowed him to push the head of his cock into her waiting mouth.
His own mouth dropped open in a soft moan as the wet heat of her mouth enveloped his aching cock. He pushed his hips forward, forcing as much of himself between her lips as she could take, the soft, slick slide of her tongue on the underside of his shaft made his toes curl up in his boots.
Her hands went to the front of his thighs and she braced her open palms against the leather, her fingers moulding to the shape of his lithe legs. He could feel the heat from her hands and the gentle curl of her fingertips through the fabric of his breeches.
He drew back a little, feeling the warm suck of her soft mouth, he pushed one hand into the soft tangle of her hair and gripped.
“That's it,” he breathed as he pushed forward again, “take it,”.
Holding her head steady he pumped his cock between her lips, very quickly he was soaked from root to tip with her saliva and he watched transfixed as it slipped down her chin and wetted the rough fabric of her dress.
Tears were forming in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks as he fucked her mouth. The musky and masculine smell of him filled her nose as the salty taste of his bare skin on her tongue made her head spin.
Part of her was disgusted, she was a lady and possibly a future princess but she was on her knees getting her mouth fucked bya man who thought she was a servant. A much larger part of her thought this was the most erotic thing that could ever happen, her cunt was pulsing with the rapid beat of her heart, she wanted nothing more than to shove her fingers between her legs and bring herself to completion, or even better, take Aemond’s fingers and use them.
“You cock hungry little slut,” he hissed as he forced his cock deeper than any thrust before.
She choked, feeling her body suddenly gag at the intrusion so deep into her mouth. She tore herself away from him, gasping for breath. There was pain where he was clinging onto her hair, pulling it hard between his lean fingers.
“Too much for the little whore?” He sneered, cold laughter on his beautiful face.
She nodded as he brought the hand that wasn't still tangled in her hair to her cheek and brushed away her tears.
“Finish me off and you'll be free to go,” he said, pulling her back to him and pressing the head of his cock against her lips.
She opened her mouth willingly and allowed him to continue, pumping faster but not as deeply as before, he began to pant and groan at every pass of her wet lips.
“Fucking take it,” he panted, “take it, take it,”.
With a final shuddering, stuttering thrust she felt his cock kick in her mouth before her tongue was flooded with salty, bitter fluid. She kept her mouth closed around his shaft as his seed escaped between her lips and dripped onto her chest.
“Swallow it,” he whispered, unable to take his gaze from her dripping mouth.
He watched as her throat bobbed and she swallowed his remaining seed before leaning back and gazing up at him. Her cheeks were marked with the tracks of her tears and her mouth and chin were wet with his spend and her own spit. The tip of her tongue appeared between her lips and gathered a drop of him before disappearing again between her used lips.
Aemond's cock was now rapidly softening and she watched with fascination as the long, thick muscle seemed to retreat back toward his body, the hot, round head disappearing under a hood of skin.
He tucked his cock back into his breeches before reaching down and brushing his thumb across her lips, his touch surprisingly tender.
“You can go,” he said bluntly before stepping away from her and turning his back.
She sprang to her feet and dashed to the bedroom door, yanking it open and not bothering to close it behind herself as she raced toward the sanctuary of her own rooms. The soles of her riding boots seemed to boom on the hard stone floor and she believed as if everyone in the castle would hear her desperate escape.
Although she kept her head down and didn't acknowledge anyone she passed she felt as if she'd been branded across the face with the awful names he'd called her. Surely everyone she passed knew what she'd just been doing.
Her heart was thundering and her cunt pounding, the sensations she'd never felt before were making her head spin. Once she was in the safety of her own room she threw herself onto the bed and drove her fingers between the slick lips of her cunt with an urgency she'd never known. She bit into the feather pillow as she brought herself to orgasm within moments of touching the throbbing and engorged pearl between her legs.
She lay panting on the bed, the smell of him still clinging to her like perfume, now mixing with the smell of her own arousal.
Her ears still burned with the names he'd called her, she should feel humiliated and insulted but instead she longed to hear those names again. She longed to taste his cock again and then to explore his body, to take time to undress him, observe him and touch him. She wanted him to do the same with her, call her names, strip her naked and explore her virgin body without restraint.
When her maidservant arrived to get her dressed for dinner she could barely lift her head from the bed. She wanted nothing more than to hide under the sheets and touch herself again and again while images of the prince flashed through her mind.
She was scrubbed clean in the bath, her hair washed and treated with sweet smelling oils. Her maidservant noted the bruises where she'd been thrown by her horse, but the marks on her knees were harder to explain away.
She was dressed in a gold and green gown embroidered with roses, the usual soft cotton and silk felt like sand abrading her skin. She insisted her hair be styled in the same way it had been when she went riding, in case the Prince didn't recognise the lady he was forced to make small talk with.
She waited by the door to the great hall, the princes had been announced and seated, then her father and his wife, her siblings next and finally it was her turn. Her name was called and she stepped into the hall. The room was full of the great and good of the Reach sitting on the tables that filled the room, at the top table, positioned above the others on a dais sat her family and Prince Aegon and Aemond.
She looked directly at Prince Aemond as she walked toward the top table. There was a flicker of recognition followed by a moment of complete horror before he took back control of his face, a mask of neutral passiveness dropping over his features. She took her seat between the prince and her young sister.
“My Lady,” he greeted softly.
“Prince Aemond,” she replied.
“Prince Aegon,” she added, leaning around Aemond to address his brother who only nodded in acknowledgement, he was swaying gently in his seat and his eyes were glazed over.
Aemond could have throttled his older brother for being drunk before the meal had been served.
“It's a pleasure to meet you my Lady,” Aemond said softly, drawing her attention back to him.
“The pleasure is all mine,” she replied politely, “but I do hope my small talk doesn't bore you,” she added, dropping her voice so only he could hear. She enjoyed the look of mild panic that crossed his face before she turned to speak with her sister.
As the food was served the noise levels in the hall increased and she felt able to return to speaking with Aemond without being overheard.
“How have you found Highgarden so far?” She asked.
“Most accommodating,” he replied, taking a sip of rose wine.
“Please forgive me if this question is indelicate,” she started, running the tips of her fingers up and down the thin stem of her wine glass, “if we're to marry, do you intend on taking your pleasure with the servants or your wife?”.
The hand holding Aemond's wine goblet visibly shook before he placed it back on the table. He cleared his throat and turned his eye to the woman beside him.
“I would take my pleasure nowhere but my wife, and she would take a great deal of pleasure with me,”.
“Because if I were your wife and found you'd been sticking your prick in the serving girls I'd bite it off,” she said as softly as possible.
Aemond cleared his throat again and gave a small inclination of his head.
“Understood, my Lady,”.
After the meal there was music and dancing. As expected of her, she danced with her father and her brothers. She'd expected to have to dance with Prince Aegon as well but he was too drunk to stand straight let alone follow the steps. Aemond, on the other hand, was everything a prince should be, dancing with her step mother and sisters before asking her to dance.
The music changed to a fast paced peasant tune that meant they needed to dance in a small circle of others before being paired off. Once alone and moving around the floor they were able to speak again.
“I just want you to know,” she started as she stepped around him, before coming to face him, their toes almost touching, she looked up at him, taking in the curve of his lips and a sharp shape of his chin, “the way you spoke to me, when you thought I was a serving girl made my cunt ache,”.
She went to twist away from him to continue the dance with the man beside him but he caught her hand and held her, letting her twirl around him again. The line of dancers they were part of muttered and tutted as they scrambled to sort themselves without the Prince and his lady.
When they were face to face again Aemond held her still, placing his hands on her waist.
“When you are my wife, it will be my utmost honour to make your cunt ache every day,” he breathed before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on her cheek before adding “my slut,”.
A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine and settled deep in her belly, making her cunt throb again. If she really was a slut she could drag him away somewhere quiet and make him repay her in kind for earlier but she was a lady, and he was prince and they were in a room full of gossiping courtiers.
“Is that a formal proposal?” She asked as he straightened.
“I think it is,” he replied, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips.
“Then I accept,” she said, before twisting around him again in time with the music.
The other dancers had moved on, leaving the two of them in their own space on the floor, undisturbed by anyone else. The swirling dancers around them made it feel like they were the only two people in the room, trapped by a colourful snow storm.
Aemond didn't care that he wasn't in a position to officially offer marriage to her yet, his meeting with her father hadn't straightened out all the details but suddenly the dowry, the lands and the titles of their future children didn't matter anymore, these details were nothing compared to how badly he wanted to take her to wife.
The song ended in a final flourish and the dancers clapped and called out requests for the next piece of music.
“Another dance? I certainly prefer it to small talk,” she teased with a smile as the music started again and the dancers around them took their places.
“And is there something else you’d enjoy even more than dancing?” he asked before bowing to her and offering her his hand.
Her neck flushed with heat as she took his hand and the two of them moved in a slow circle.
“There are many things I enjoy more than dancing, my Prince, and I suspect you’ll show me a great many more,”
For the rest of the night Prince Aemond danced with no one else and while it certainly earned some raised eyebrows from the more modest members of the Highgarden court neither Lady Tyrell or Aemond could bring themselves to care. They only had eyes for one another and as they danced the rest of the world seemed to melt away.
At the top table Lord Tyrell watched his daughter and the prince with great interest. He was thinking he might have saved himself 9 months of bartering, letter writing and hand wringing if he’d just invited the prince to visit in the first instance.
“They make a fair couple, don’t they?” his lady wife asked from beside him.
“When I met with him this afternoon I’d never have believed he could be so taken with her,” Lord Tyrell said, “he was so cold I didn’t think he could look at someone with anything other than contempt but she seems to have won him over,”.
It was the small hour of the next morning by the time the music and dancing ended. Lord Tyrell and his lady had gone to bed hours before but the revelry had continued. Prince Aegon had staggered from the table and made toward a door at the side of the hall, he’d only made it through the door before tripping on his feet, falling on his face and deciding to stay there.
As the musicians played their final notes prince Aemond kissed the back of his lady’s hand, looking up at her and smiling.
“Until we meet again, my Lady,” he said softly, she opened her mouth to reply but he pulled her toward him, bringing his cheek to hers, his lips touching the shell of her ear, “my whore,”.
additional A/N : this has the potential for a part two if anyone's interested? Just putting it out there, letting the universe know.
#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen smut#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond imagine#aemond smut#aemond targaryen imagine#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen fan fiction#aemond hotd#hotd aemond#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fan fic#hotd#hotd smut#house of the dragon#hotd fan fiction#hotd fanfic#hotd fan fic#hotd fanfiction#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell character
578 notes
·
View notes
Note
HI ITS BARD ANON I MISSED YOU!!! insane request but what about a situation where the party + kabru + chil’s family orchestrate a date between chil and reader? like setting them up… i think that’d be so cuteeee
for the dancing and the dreaming
…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader
…tags! fluff, post-canon spoilers, chilchuck’s wife remains nameless, i love chilchuck's family can you tell
…wc! 1887
…notes! BARD ANON I’M BACK FROM WAR (burnout) !!!! these two requests are similar so i decided to make ‘em a wombo combo!!! enjoy my loves!
The woman gives you a kindly smile as she waves you off, you and her ex leaving the tavern. She sighs and leans back, crossing her arms.
God, Chilchuck is more stupid than she remembered.
How could he possibly miss the affection in your eyes when he called out to you both before you left? Or how you clearly wanted to ask if you can stay with him longer? He’s just going to ignore that and consider it all platonic?
What an idiot. Do I really have to step in for him again? Just like old times, huh…?
The half-foot taps a finger against her cheek in thought. Maybe she can push you to confess? No, you’d probably wave your hands around and insist against having feelings for Chilchuck in the first place. A heavy sigh escapes her.
Looks like she has to do things the old-fashioned way.
Step 1 – Family
The quickest way to alert someone is to see who the people closest to you know. Flertom is rather in-the-know about any gossip. Usually, as a mother, the half-foot really doesn’t want to encourage such things, but for now…
“What’s trendy in dating circles nowadays?” She asks offhandedly, eyeing a bouquet Flertom bought to gift a possible suitor. “Is the man still expected to be the one to initiate everything?”
She could nearly scoff at her own words. Only reason she and Chil got together was pure happenstance. Practically a blur by now. He’d be hopeless at actually trying to start anything with you.
The younger woman hums in curiosity, before stopping to think. “Not really nowadays, no… If you have enough charisma, you can charm any man into taking you out for a drink. Why do you ask, Ma?”
Flertom squints as she watches her mother laugh and shake her head in response. “Oh, I just think your old man might need some… encouragement with a new flame is all.”
Just as she expected, Flertom was immediately on the ball with planning, rushing out to the town in order to visit her sisters and inform them of the operation. She practically commanded her old mother to see if she could look for any clues about Chilchuck’s possible beau. With a knowing smile, she remarks that she’s very happy to pay a visit to Melini.
Step 2 – Friends
“You really think something that elaborate could work?!” Marcille Donato leans forward in her chair. Her eyes shine with a certain kind of joy at the idea of playing Cupid that amuses the matured half-foot significantly.
She nods. “I don’t see anything else coming close to pushing them. Force might be the only way.”
A female tall-man, Falin if recalled correctly, squints and hums, tapping her finger on her chin as she tilts her head. Her brow furrows. “From what I know, Chilchuck seems to be more open, but… I don’t know if he has the courage to be truly vulnerable in front of someone like that.”
“No need to tell me twice,” his ex scoffs.
“Oh!” The king, of all people, seems to have an epiphany. “We could hold some sort of ball, encourage him to invite a plus one. That can work, right Kabru?”
All eyes turn to look at the advisor standing to the side, clearly enjoying the conversation but not wishing to intrude. He startles at the sudden attention, before clearing his throat behind his fist.
“It will take some time to plan, but it could work… You mentioned having three daughters, ma’am, you can take one as a plus-one, and the two will take each other.” He’s calm with his conclusion, which the half-foot woman can definitely respect.
“A banquet of all their favourite foods,” the dwarf Senshi, as food-brained as ever, sighs in daydream.
Kabru takes a step forward. “Though I have to ask,” he enquires, “is it really necessary to call upon all of the king’s advisors and himself for a Cupid scheme?”
Silly boy. He doesn’t yet realise the stakes.
If Chilchuck and you don’t say something soon, then you may stay silent forever. This idea might be the best shot they have.
Step 3 – The Preparation
“What’s even the occasion…?” Chilchuck sighs as he adjusts the sleeves of the formal outfit he’s wearing. He’s definitely unused to something so high-class. Being invited as a guest of honour certainly isn’t doing any favours either.
Not to mention, Laios was stupid enough to not even bestow upon you a guest of honour title! Chilchuck has to go through the means of inviting you as a plus one due to some ‘organisational issues’, as Kabru put it.
What a load of crap.
“I ‘unno!” Puckpatti peeks her head around the corner to look at her father. “Royals just seem to like their balls!”
“This isn’t one of your period romances…” Meijack’s voice rings from the other room too.
You sit with them, talking amongst one another. Flertom’s plus one remains a mystery to you, though she assures you that you’ll meet with her when you get there. You can only assume it’s the girls’ mother but you have no clue why she’s so giggly and secretive about it.
“On the contrary!” Flertom announces. “I think it’s exactly like a period romance. Maybe one of us will be swept into a dance so beguiling, you forget there’s a whole ballroom of people!”
You squeal in surprise when Flertom takes your hands and pulls you out of your chair. You dance together in a fit of giggles. You only barely miss Chilchuck walking out to meet with you all, a fond smile on his face.
Little do you know, he’s thinking about what it would be like if joy like this could be shared in a household with the two of you.
“Come on now, settle. Apparently there’s gonna be a carriage taking us to Melini. I couldn’t fight against the theatrics, according to Marcille…”
“Oh Papa!” Puckpatti sighs blissfully. “We truly are living like nobles now! Maybe you can… ah…”
Both you and Chilchuck spy her eyes darting towards her sisters with unsureness. How strange.
“You can find… someone nice there!”
“No, Patti.” Chilchuck shakes his head with a sigh. “I’m not gonna marry some rich dwarf.”
“You are too cruel, Papa,” Flertom points out with a pout. “No one will want you if you just keep saying no.”
As the three bicker, Meijack spares you a sympathetic glance, and she rolls her eyes. Her sisters hardly know subtlety. Finally she stands up and walks to your side.
“I’m glad you’re here with us,” she says with uncharacteristic softness; she’s similar to her father like that. “Papa has good taste.”
You go red just as much as Chilchuck. For a moment, Flertom and Puckpatti wonder if their less romance-focused sister has some secret charisma she’s been hiding up her sleeve this whole time. It seems to work though, as they chorus their agreements loudly.
“Very good taste!”
“Their formal wear matches yours fashionably well!”
“Just as pretty as Ma too!”
“If not prettier!”
The entire carriage ride to Melini was full of this type of chatter, asking questions about you and Chilchuck’s time together the whole way. A few times you had to clarify that you are only as close as the rest of your old party were close, but were only met with a few smug “mhms” and “sures”.
Chilchuck can only roll his eyes when he gets the chance to comment on it privately with you. “I have no idea what’s up with them.”
“Oh, cheer up!” You laugh softly. “I’m flattered that they like me.”
Chilchuck can’t help but hear your laugh and chuckle along – music to his ears. “...Yeah, I’m glad they like you too.”
“Come on! Ma is here to greet you two!” Flertom’s voice calls out.
The mastermind has been watching you and Chilchuck the whole time you approach. Her expression remains neutral, with the smallest sliver of a smile. Seems like the proximity has been lending itself quite well.
“Well, aren’t you two a pair,” she greets you both. “Ready to take the ball by storm.”
“Your jokes haven’t gotten any better,” Chilchuck replies.
“And you’re still wearing the same shabby suit from sixteen years ago.”
Chilchuck flushes red once again and you can’t help but laugh, patting his shoulder sympathetically as he hooks his arm through yours.
The watching half-foot knowingly grins. Yes, you two are definitely going to take it up a level after tonight.
Step 4 – Profit!
The ball came and went. It goes as typical as the dark-haired half-foot expects. What really is supposed to be a high-class noble event is a mask for foodies, romantics, and those looking for a fun time.
Senshi’s food was as wonderful as promised, and even if this was all done in the name of romance, Flertom and Puckpatti had to be held down from trying to approach the dwarf with lowered eyelids and twirled hair. Chilchuck doesn’t need more heart palpitations than he already did.
She did her best to encourage Chilchuck to drink. She knows better than anyone that his tongue only loosened when he got enough alcohol in him. It hurts just a little, knowing that this is one of the only ways Chilchuck can be open with someone romantically.
The temptation did cross her to ask how Chilchuck views her now, but she stood against it. It’s not the night for that.
By the time the party drew to a close, people were exhausted, drunk, in a food coma, or all of the above. The King had to be dragged over to his quarters, and Marcille had since passed out on Falin’s shoulder, who’s bidding farewell to guests.
The dark-haired half-foot swirls the last of her wine in a glass as she stands outside, making small-talk with the tall-man. It’s not until you stumble out with Chilchuck clinging to the fabric on your hip that she looks up.
“Do you—”
“No need for help!” You reassure her with a grin. “He always seems to get clingy with me when drunk, so I’m kinda used to it at this point!”
Your laughter meets a knowing smile, not knowing exactly what she’s so smug about. “Yes, he seems to really like you.”
“I sure hope he does, considering he’s accepted my request to go on a date with him.”
Falin perks up enough to wake up the elf on her shoulder. “A date?”
The half-foot across from you is stunned into silence. It actually worked. The atmosphere and passion of it all actually egged you both on!
“Congratulations.” You’ve seen more emotion from the dark-haired woman than ever before. Her smile relaxed but her eyes shining, the lines underneath crinkling with happiness. “Treat him well, okay?”
“Of course,” you reply, and you lean forward a little. “Thank you for your help. Kabru couldn’t help but gossip to me.”
You wink and lean up again. Chilchuck at your side whines for your attention and you laugh, walking towards a carriage.
Safe travels were promised, and the dark-haired half-foot turns to the two blonde women.
The elf blinks slowly, red-faced from drink.
“Did we win…?”
The two other women laugh. Stories must be exchanged the next time you all meet – especially on your end of things.
#✮ grimm's fics!#oh man this will be hell to tag#delicious in dungeon#dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi imagines#delicious in dungeon imagines#dungeon meshi x reader#delicious in dungeon x reader#chilchuck#chilchuck tims#chilchuck x reader#chilchuck tims x reader#chilchuck imagines#chilchuck tims imagines#meijack chils#puckpatti chils#flertom chils#chilchuck's wife#yeah that'll do
301 notes
·
View notes
Text
In search of freedom (Ch. 1)
1. They're bad news
Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2
⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.
Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa. This chapter follows the events of the first episode.
Warnings for this chapter: physical violence (fights), mentions of deaths, fluff, some cursing, mentions of tarot and palm readings
Word count: 3,6k
Theme song: “Loreley” by Blackmore's Night (click on the link)
A/N: This is the first part of a fanfiction I was thinking of since first watching One Piece Live Action. I started the anime too and I'm around episode 64 already. I'm using the OPLA course of action for now and I have no idea for an ending, but enough scenarios to write and share. I don't know how far this will go, but I'll have fun writing it and considering how much I like Zoro (born anime and LA), I'm using both of them as inspiration. Sorry for the lack of interaction between reader and Zoro, but I promise things will change.
The reader will be referred to as "Witch" especially in the next chapter, because I have no intentions of using "Y/N". There will be more information revealed about her past and abilities in the next chapter.
I'm open for comments and opinions <3
"Excuse me," she smiled sweetly while swaying away from someone who was standing right in front of her and a table she had to serve for. "Here," she carefully let the plates down.
She received a large smile coming from the young man with dark curls and a straw hat hanging around his neck. His pink haired companion seemed very shy, barely glancing at her before looking back at his plate, thanking in a small voice.
The tavern buzzed with a peaceful energy in the late hours of morning, the big windows letting the warm rays of sun in, lighting up the place. There were men sitting at a few tables, no sign of any other woman except for her and the very owner of that place, who just finished cooking something — were those cookies? It smelled divine.
Her dress fluttered around her knees as she moved away from their table to take other orders, a strand of her hair falling against her cheek after running around for so long. When she finally stopped in her tracks by the bar, intense eyes searched for anyone else who might've needed something. Lucky for her, she could finally breathe for a few seconds, resting her hips against the bar.
However, her eyes fell on the tall figure who just chugged down his throat a shot of alcohol. His green hair made her frown to herself, looking away before she could get caught ogling some stranger. After a few seconds, she looked at him again, this time at the three swords resting against his hip.
Three swords? What can someone do with three swords?
Everyone probably had the same question whenever they saw him for the first time. However, he felt somehow familiar, as if she's heard of someone like that before. A pirate? No, wait, a pirate hunter? The owner told her of so many things and so many people it was impossible to remember each one of them, but she was pretty sure she mentioned some pirate hunter only a few days ago.
Her thought process was interrupted when a man with blonde hair and suit walked by in front of her. Considering the men dressed in white uniforms who entered with him, they must be marines and he was probably their superior — he was walking like he owned the entire port.
She held back from rolling her eyes in annoyance. Her thoughts ran back to what her friend said about pirates last time, the way they argued back and forth about how pirates aren't good. However, she had her own reasons for claiming that not all pirates were ruthless monsters, without elaborating.
She flinched lightly when she heard the thud of a metal plate falling on the floor, snapping her head towards a little girl who was stuttering apologies to the blonde man. Her eyebrows were pulled together at his angry and loud voice mocking the child who had tears in her eyes, fear seeping through her very bones at the exaggerated reaction.
Apparently, they knocked into each other. Oh, there were two cookies on the floor. One of them got crushed under the man's foot.
She smoothly made her way by the side of the little girl, smiling at her as she crouched down to her level.
"Is everything alright, little one? Did you apologize?" the woman's hand squeezed the girl's shoulder warmly.
Rika's only response was a nod.
"Good job. It's alright, I'll help you clean up. Why don't you bring me a broom, hm?" she coaxed the girl with a gentle voice.
Once the girl walked away, she stood up straight again, arching her eyebrow questionably at the arrogant man by her side.
"Is there anything else I could help you with?"
"What, are you working here? If the answer's positive, then you better teach those stupid kids some manners," he huffed.
"You should teach yourself how to behave," she commented right back, her sharp gaze sizing him up and down.
"Take that back. Next time I won't be so nice," the blonde marine grinned.
Oh, and what an ugly grin it was on that fucker's face.
"You dropped my food," a low voice from behind interrupted.
The young woman turned her head towards the voice, confusion written on her face as she made a few steps back, out of his way. It was the green haired man she noticed earlier, now sitting on one of his knees on the cold floor.
Rika came back with a broom almost twice her size, the object quickly taken from her hold by the woman who smiled at her again. While they exchanged glances, the pirate hunter let himself down on one of his knees, taking some of the crushed cookie into his palm.
A sly smile tugged at the woman's lips. A pirate hunter or not, he had more dignity than a marine even in that kneeling position. She was more satisfied to see the little one smiling.
"Your turn," the green-haired man lowered his voice, a dark glare thrown at the astonished marine.
The pirate hunter raised back up and placed the metal plate on the bat, his intimidating height against the arrogant blonde monkey in front of him telling enough.
"Apologize to the girl," he demanded in a relaxed tone.
"Me? It was her fault for bumping into me. The lady should apologize for disrespecting me."
Apologize, my ass, she thought to herself, one step away from bursting out laughing. What did he take her for?
"Do you want a fight or what?" he drew his sword out, a knowing grin curled on his face. "I don't need three swords to fight."
The woman looked down at the little girl who was still by her side, ruffling her hair.
"Why don't you go to your mother, hm? And stay there until I call you back."
Her stern voice didn't give space for arguing; Rika complied, going to the kitchen.
She heard some muttering and next thing she knew, both of the men in front of her had drawn their swords out. Apparently, the green-haired one decided to advance closer to the marine, in an attempt to keep the fight away from the lady.
Hmph. Swordsmen and their unusual gentlemanly behavior.
Squeezing the broom in between her fingers, she moved away, furrowing her eyebrows in a scowl.
"No fights in here, you jerks!" she scoffed.
Expertly, while the other marines attacked one man — how unethical of them — and swords clashed against each other after sharp whistling noises, the woman swept away the cookies on the floor. She faked doing her own duties, like the good employee that she was, throwing careful glances at the fight happening right next to her. If she wasn't careful enough, she could get sliced in two.
"I advise you to get out of the way," she heard the swordsman's voice growling right after he threw a chair into three men, making them fall to the floor.
"You'll destroy the entire place if I do."
Right after saying those words, without anyone noticing in that damned agitation, with a quick movement of the broom, she made one of the marines trip.
Just like the idiots that they were.
"Oh my god, you should be more careful!" she placed a hand over her lips, fake surprise and fear coloring her features.
Who would believe such an innocent being was capable of such malicious actions?
With a strong creak followed by a thud, one marine was thrown into a table that turned the both of them upside down, groans filled with pain vibrating through the tavern.
She was right about them destroying the place.
However, the commotion didn't cause too much distress to the woman still moving the broom around, acting as if she had business with that newly found weapon. It might not be lethal, but she couldn't be spotted while she was intentionally making the marines' jobs harder. In the month she's been working there, she saw more than just one fight and used everything that she saw fit to stop it — be it a broom or a kitchen knife.
Now that she analyzed the fight better, it seemed like the pirate hunter barely even had to draw his sword out of its scabbard, at some point knocking someone's head into the bar. He used his raw strength and the objects surrounding him, thankfully without destroying any of them. The can he threw into another man's stomach seemed so effortless.
That must've hurt, though.
The blonde marine was quickly pulled by the back of his collar, back colliding with the bar, and an angry swordsman towering over him. She didn't hear anything nor paid attention anymore, eyes focused on the tavern that was ruined only half way through.
She sighed after watching both of the men walking out of there, biting her lower lip to hold back a fit of laughter at the marine who stumbled while being dragged by the bounty hunter.
"Why do men always fight in this tavern?" she talked to herself, raising one of the chairs and putting it back in place. "One day of peace is all I want in this port, only one day, and I can't get even that."
She sighed again, only for that long exhale to get stuck in her throat once her eyes fell on the table that was almost sitting in the opposite way rather than how it should be. Once she approached it, stepping by the marine who was trying to get up.
She would never help someone who had less dignity than a dog following some orders from a brainless monkey. Heck, even those animals were smarter.
Instead, she tried to move the table back in its place. Her fingers were so close to gripping at one side of the table before someone appeared at the opposite side. The young man with a straw hat and a square smile she served only a few minutes ago raised the table by himself, carefully arranging it until he was satisfied with its position.
"Thank you so much for the help," she smiled at him. "Be careful where you step, I think a glass also broke."
There were some shreds on the floor somewhere close to the table the young man sat at earlier.
"Thank you for your concern," he smiled just like the first time.
Gosh, has she ever seen such a beautiful soul? His eyes sparkled and the happiness suited him like it did to a little child who has no clue of the harsh world. However, he didn't seem phased or scared by what happened earlier — his hands weren't shaking at all and there was no fear lingering in his stare.
She turned to take the broom and came closer to his companion, who was sitting under the table. She bent her torso to give him a hand, helping him get back to his feet.
"Careful with the glass, check your hands," she warned again.
"I saw what you did there."
She turned towards the straw hat guy, blinking owlishly at him.
"I don't really get what you mean."
She started sweeping the shred of broken glass, not paying attention to the curious and insistent gaze she was receiving.
"You surely do. I'm Monkey D. Luffy and I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!"
Her eyes widened at the second part of his speech, snapping her head back at him. Without even realizing, her fingers were squeezing the broom quite harshly, fingertips going white.
"That's—" she started in a small voice, blinking like an idiot and staring at him.
She's heard that before. She's heard the same dream before and it brought so much suffering.
"That's dangerous," she finally got the courage to continue, still hesitant.
"You're brave for interfering with their fight."
Luffy looked into her eyes as if he could guess the thoughts running through her head, as if he could read her very soul, drinking in her features and reaction.
"You must've seen wrong," she let out a light chuckle, getting a grip on herself. "I'm just clumsy sometimes."
She was thankful she stopped herself from cussing out the Marines, because in less than a second after she finished her sentence, a few other men dressed in white uniforms appeared to help their comrades back to the base. She casted a skeptical eye at each one of them, like silent warnings.
They were pathetic, some of them still stumbling while trying to get up, their swords thrown around carelessly. After they all disappeared from her sight, her shoulders obviously relaxed again.
"I have to admit I hated each second of staying so much with these idiots around," she huffed quietly. "That spoiled child who takes advantage of his father's status was getting on my nerves."
"That's why you helped that swordsman, right?"
Luffy continued with his supposition, not letting go of what he thought he saw — it was the truth, but it would be dangerous to admit.
"I didn't help anyone, really. That was unintentional."
"Don't press it too much, Luffy," his companion's voice trembled.
"Koby, I know what I saw," Luffy pulled his lips into a straight line.
She resumed what she was doing, sweeping at the pieces of glass, seeing almost each one of them in the light seeping through the window.
"If you want to become King of the Pirates, I suppose you also want to get the One Piece, right?"
She was foolish. She was stupid for asking, for getting herself in such business that somehow always ended with too many deaths, with broken dreams. However, something was nagging in her gut. Deep down, it felt so right to ask.
"Yes! I need the Grand Line map for that and I intend on getting from the Marine Base here."
"You're insane, kid," her shoulders shook with her light laughter.
It was a sour sound.
She stopped, leaning her weight into the broom, looking down at the glass in front of her. She shouldn't help them. She should stay in her place if she wanted those young men to survive. What they were trying to do was basically suicide, they just didn't know. Koby seemed to be more fearful, hesitant and so, so shy. Luffy didn't say "us"; he said "I" — the pink-haired guy was not really part of the plan.
Against better judgment, she raised her head at him, promises sparkling in her eyes just like the shreds of glass.
"You can't just ask for that map and I hope you know that. What you want to get yourself into isn't just dangerous, it's like jumping into a suicide mission," her voice strained, pouring all of her hope in her next words: "However, I can help you get inside. Be careful, you have to make sure no one catches you."
"So I was right about you!" Luffy beamed.
"Right about what?"
"That you're brave."
Her lips opened, but no sound came from between them. It was pointless to deny it when he seemed so stubborn about what he saw and believed.
"I think this is a lot to say about someone who's helping you steal secret maps," the side of her mouth curled upwards.
Koby was left astonished. Stealing from the Marines was suicide.
"Listen here, kid," she lowered her voice, stepping closer to whisper. She set her gaze on Luffy's. "You have to get out of there alive, no matter what. Lie if you have to, but I have a feeling you're very bad at that, so be careful. That isn't a place to fool around in. You could get yourself killed in a blink. The Marines are very sneaky."
"There are good Marines and bad Marines," he shrugged. "Maybe I'll meet someone who's willing to help."
"I like your enthusiasm, but that unit base doesn't fit," she shook her head. "Both Captain Morgan and his son aren't the good kind of people."
She squeezed the broom in between her fingers again, an ugly feeling clawing at her throat. She didn't want a kid to die for following his dreams, but freedom was something she always craved.
"I'll tell you a way to get inside the base from underneath. You have to keep your lips sealed — I don't worry about myself, but about the owner and her daughter. I don't want word spreading around."
"You can count on me!" he placed his hand on his heart, as if he sealed the promise there. "Who are you? I want to know who's helping me."
Damned be his sincerity.
"I'll give you my name after you get out of there alive."
She smiled, eyes sparkling with delicious mischief.
"That is a promise. I'll be around the Marine Base and I'll tell you my name after I see you get out of there alive."
That seemed to stir something in Luffy's soul, inhaling with pride. A man of his word, indeed, just like she thought.
"Deal.
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈
Her name left the lips of a scolding mother, even if it wasn't her mom.
"I saw you." The second time she heard tthat same phrase in one day.
Annie patted the tip of her shoe against the floor repeatedly.
"I was just lucky enough not to get myself in trouble," she shrugged.
However, her eyes fell on the floor, guilty about getting caught like a deer in the light.
"You could've gotten yourself in big trouble!" the owner of the tavern raised her voice.
Rika pouted up at her mother, trying to sweeten her reaction.
"She just wanted to help, just like—"
"Rika," this time, the scolded one firmly spoke her name. "Don't take me as an idol. It's true that something could have happened."
The little girl shouldn't worry about such a bloody world just yet and she wanted to help it for as long as possible. Being stubborn was a death sentence, even if she would always get herself into trouble if it meant to stick to her principles.
She'd rather die on her feet than live on her knees.
"Just because this time everything was fine, it doesn't mean next time will be the same," Annie exhaled loudly, frowning.
"There won't be a next time," the young woman sank her chin in her chest. "I should leave these days. Soon enough, word will spread out about my tarot and palm readings. I don't want to cause you any more trouble."
"You little witch," the usual scolding was replaced with a warm nickname.
She raised her head again, struggling to smile. Leaving after she got attached always hurt.
"That man was Roronoa Zoro, wasn't it?" Annie asked, her body suddenly tensing.
"Most probably," she shrugged. "Three swords, three earrings. He put on quite a show, to be honest," the words were followed by a chuckle.
"I see the way your eyes are sparkling. Don't even think about getting into some conversation with such a troublesome person."
"What could do some adventure to a poor soul like me?" she teased.
"It could bring you six feet under."
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈
"I'm no witch, you idiots!" she struggled against the harsh grip the two men had on her arms.
She hissed when one of them sank his fingertips in her upper arms, glaring at him.
Shithead marines.
She continued writhing and struggling, stomping her feet into the ground in an awful attempt to stop them. She intended on keeping her promise after she helped the straw hat sneak into their base. She waited for as long as it was necessary after she gathered her things in a bag that hung around her shoulders. She was supposed to leave that place after she made sure the kid was alright and alive.
"God dammit!" she shouted. "How many times do I have to explain I'm not doing anything wrong?!"
"You're lying to people and receiving money, filthy witch. You're a thief," one of the men commented as they continued walking her away from the port.
"I didn't steal shit!" she snapped.
"Watch out!" she heard a familiar voice.
Instantly, she bent her torso down. The man on her right was punched in the face with so much force he released her grip on her and stumbled into the marine on her left, both of them now on the ground.
She didn't even get enough time to process what was happening, something curling around her waist carefully, but so fast. A yelp left her lips when she realized she was being lifted off the ground, turning her head towards the source.
It was the straw hat's arm. He ate a devil fruit, didn't he?
He was on a boat that was sailing a few meters away in the sea and she was being pulled towards him. She also recognized the pirate hunter from earlier and a woman with orange hair, both of them far too relaxed for what was happening.
That guy was made of rubber!
She recognized Koby who just got to his feet after she got past him, her feet finally touching something solid again. She blinked confused at the straw hat.
"You can't bring everyone that you like on this ship," the swordsman let out a hopeless sigh.
She busted out laughing like a maniac, the colorful and rich sound filling the air. Her shoulders shook and she had to place her hand over her stomach, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Obviously, her reaction was met with an especially questionable look coming from the swordsman, who most probably thought he got on a ship with another insane human.
"You're insane, kid," she wiped the tears in her eyes with her fingers, still smiling widely.
She hasn't felt such relief in years.
"I guess I gotta fulfill a promise, right?"
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈
#naomiwrites#zoro x reader#zoro x you#zoro x y/n#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x you#roronoa zoro x y/n#zoro#roronoa zoro#zoro roronoa#opla zoro x reader#opla zoro#opla#one piece#op zoro#one piece live action#op x reader#opla x reader#one piece x reader#i have to reread this tomorrow and make sure there aren't mistakes#I'm so tired and i should go to sleep#is search of freedom
974 notes
·
View notes
Text
bad idea right? - raphael x f!tav (part two)
raphael lays some ground rules for your deal and extends an invitation.
author's note: read part one here. 2.3k words. 18+, mdni please. some bickering, some groping. thigh riding. ya know, the usual. ao3 link.
“What are you writing?”
Raphael’s quill runs off the page, a thick line of black ink staining his desk. His nostrils flare and he quickly claps his journal shut, eyeing the incubus with sheer annoyance. He clenched his jaw before giving a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing as he tries to let the frustration roll off of him. The last thing he wants to do is give Haarlep any ammunition.
“My recent business dealings.” Raphael answers curtly and in one fluid motion slips his journal off his desk into a drawer. His eyes flit up Haarlep’s body before settling at his eyes and scrunches his nose. “And where have you been?” He sets down his quill and leans back in his desk chair.
“You know I like to get some air every so often.” Haarlep yawns as he slinks onto the nearby bed, laying down on his stomach with his head propped up in his hands. “Writing smut again, are we? I can smell a certain aroma from you.” His mouth curls into a sly smile, his pointed teeth poking out from his upper lip. Raphael’s gaze falls to the incubus, eyes narrowing as his lips purse. It’s difficult for him to get frustrated with Haarlep at this point — he’s grown used to his teasing after having him in his “employment” for so long but still this situation is delicate.
“Are you jealous, dear Haarlep?” Raphael’s voice drops to a low purr. He gets up from his padded armchair and saunters over to the bed only to sit beside the other. Haarlep rolls over so that he can face him, claws immediately starting to drift up along his doublet sleeve.
“Not jealous.” The incubus huffs, his touch drawing closer to Raphael’s stomach. “It has been quite some time since a mortal got your loins in a twist, though. Seems more receptive than your other pet.” He flashes a brilliant smile while Raphael digs his nails into the palms of his own hands, giving a vicious growl — a warning. Haarlep merely scoffs in response but he does lower his head, gaze beginning to drift around the room. “If you’re going to have her over you should probably have one of your debtors clean up the place.”
“Bringing her here is not a part of my plan currently. Are you requesting something of me?” Raphael peers down at the other as he cocks a brow. Haarlep shrugs and stays quiet for a moment before giving a huff.
“I want to see what all this fuss is about.”
Raphael considers him, his mind quickly running through a few scenarios. Why should he share? But there it is, an opportunity underneath all the show: a deal to be made.
“Perhaps I could make some changes, but what would be in it for me?”
***
You feel a violent hand over your mouth and your eyes shoot open as a gasp rips from your throat. Once your vision settles, you’re met with those caramel eyes leering over you, Raphael’s teeth-bared and gaze sharp.
“Outside. Now.” There is venom in his voice unlike that you’ve heard from him before. He disappears in a spark of ash before you’re able to say anything — and then you realize he’s cast silence on you anyway. You feel an angry growl rumble through your chest but it’s swallowed up by the time it reaches your lips, in some ways a blessing since you don’t want to wake your companions. As you get out of bed, Astarion stirs in the one in front of you, making soft snores and every so often small whimpers? Do vampires have dreams? Your mind wanders as you put on your evening robe to fight the chill of the air. One last scan over your companions and you’re out the door, heading downstairs of the tavern and out to the alleyway.
Raphael is waiting for you, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. You hate that the first thing you think of is how radiant he looks in the pale moonlight. The dim light makes his brown eyes sparkle and the gold details on his doublet shine. Memories of the deal you made and what happened after flood your mind, replacing your annoyance with a familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach. You open your mouth but only air tumbles out, making you clench your fists in frustration.
“No, no. You don’t get to speak yet, little mouse.” He stalks closer to you, his movements slow and deliberate. “Rumors have made their way back to me that a certain hero has been fraternizing with an infernal being.” Raphael grits his teeth as he leans in, his eyes boring into yours. “You couldn’t wait to tell your little companions, could you?” There is anger in his voice but underneath it you swear there is a hint of teasing. He awaits your response but then gives a dramatic ah! before snapping his fingers.
“I didn’t tell them about our deal.” You’re finally able to snap back but your voice is hoarse from the silence. “Astarion noticed! He could smell you on me. Called me a freak — but not in a disgusted way, more like… he was impressed.” Too much information but the words spill out of you. Raphael’s face remains unchanged, his lips pressed into a straight line and his brows furrowed. “He’s bad at keeping secrets… but I wasn’t sure if you would care since you left me alone at Sharess’ Caress.”
He exhales slowly through his nose and his face seems to relax, his jaw shifting back into place and his eyes softening. One of his hands reaches for yours, which is balled into a fist at your side. His fingers graze your fist, lightly trying to loosen it before he takes your hand. Raphael’s eyes stay fixed on you, his lips starting to quirk into a barely there smile. You try to keep a straight face but his warm fingers laced with your own makes an infuriating blush rise to your cheeks.
“Did I hurt your feelings, pet?” His voice drops dangerously low as he brings the back of your hand to his lips. You roll your eyes, amazed by his nerve. Did he think he could bat his lashes and you’d be wrapped around his finger? “Mmm… forgive me, for that. Please. It’s been an eternity since someone has affected me this way.” He murmurs, averting your gaze as you swear you see a flash of embarrassment cross his face. Your breath catches in your throat at the sudden candor, having only seen it once before in him.
“You shouldn’t have left.” You remain firm but your voice is a hum, your eyes tracing over his features. “After everything we’ve been through, I thought I would have gotten special treatment.” You wriggle your hand free from his grasp as you give him a sly grin, not about to let him off the hook that easily. Raphael’shead tilts as he regards you silently for a moment, as if your playfulness caught him off guard. His lips tug into a smile and you catch his gaze fall to your mouth, then back up to meet your eyes.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you. As you know, I tend to keep my word.” He all but purrs, drifting in even closer to you.
“Well, I’d like to get it in writing.”
“You what?” Raphael’s charming facade immediately drops, scrunching his nose. You are delighted with the way he glared at you. “Let us discuss this later — we have more pressing matters. Your companions, I am certain they aren’t very supportive of you mingling with a devil such as myself.” He presses his hand to his chest, those caramel eyes sucking you in like they always do.
“I wouldn’t say that they are thrilled about it.” You sigh and break your eye contact. “But it doesn’t seem like a reason for them to leave, at least for now… if this is something that will continue.” He uses one of his long fingers to gently turn your head back to his gaze.
“I would rather that they didn’t know about us, sweetling.” Raphael sounds almost sweet as he seemingly takes in every detail of your face, his hand now cupping your cheek. “Them and the entirety of the Sword Coast, at least until the Elder Brain is defeated. We don’t want the general public to think our savior is taking orders from a devil, do we?” It’s something you haven’t thought about until now. You were never one to care for optics but he isn’t wrong. “I have an idea that will put your companion’s minds at ease and take some of the heat off of us.”
You’re hardly paying attention to what he’s saying because of how close he is. You could easily kiss him right now. What would he do? You decide to find out. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you quickly push yourself onto your tippy toes to kiss him, nearly cutting him off. Raphael’s body freezes in surprise before his hand moves from your cheek to tangle with your hair, his tongue desperately pushing into your mouth. It’s like a switch went off in his brain. He’s grabbing you, tugging at your waist so your bodies are flush against each other.
You nearly fall into him as he takes a few steps back, your hands slipping to hold onto his shoulders. Tasting him again was almost just as overwhelming as the first time, the heat of his mouth making me crave him more and more, deepening the kiss. Raphael moves quickly, both his hands suddenly gripping your thighs to pull you down with him into a chair you’re sure didn’t exist a moment ago. He has you straddling his waist, strong hands making sure you stay in place. You finally manage to break away from the kiss to catch your breath, hazy eyes meeting his gaze.
“Go to the Devil’s Fee when you’re ready — my contact will grant you entrance to my House of Hope.” Raphael’s nose traces along your jaw, his lips brushing along your neck as he speaks. He teases at your neck with his teeth, inching lower and lower, while drifting his hands along your robe to grope your breast through the light fabric. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and you eliminate the remaining space between you, melting into his touch. Raphael sucks on your collarbone as he opens your robe even further, fingers toying with your nipples through your shirt before pulling it down and exposing your breasts. You’re dizzy from it all, lost in him and his expert touches and that velvet voice, lips parting to give a soft whine.
“The hammer will be in a safe in my boudoir — an easy heist for you and your companions.” His voice is ragged, breath heavy as his mouth moves down your chest to run his tongue along your sensitive flesh. Raphael dips his hands to cup your ass and guides you along his thigh. Even through the layers of fabric the friction is delicious, making your legs tremble more and more with each drag over his thigh. You forget that you’re outside where anyone could stumble by, moaning recklessly as his lips close around one of your nipples. He flicks his tongue against it, teeth nipping it only just enough to hurt before giving it a few rough sucks.
Your fingers move to dig into the hair at the base of his neck, tilting your head back while his mouth works over your breasts with feverish need. A growl rumbles up from his chest, feeling it against yours as you start to grind against him without his help. It all feels so reckless. Raphael’s composure is completely gone, groaning against your chest as his tongue teasing your other nipple. Your eyes fall shut and you snap your hips harshly into his thigh, chasing your release.
And as easily as he gave into you, he takes it all away.
Raphael grabs you by the chin and wrenches you down to look at him in the eyes. You’re shuddering in his grasp as his caramel gaze sharpens, fire in his eyes. The sudden shift in mood has your mind turned upside down and your body aching to be touched by him again.
“This part is extremely important, pet, so listen closely.” He snarls, digging his nails into your cheeks. “Do not assist Hope while you are a guest. Is that understood?” Raphael yanks you so that his lips are hovering directly over yours. You quiver at his closeness and you nod before even trying to understand what he is asking of you. All you know is that you want him now. There’s a spark in his eyes once you agree and he lets go of you gently, his hands dropping to cover you up before, leaning back in the chair with a smug look on his face. “Go on — take what you need.”
You snap your hips immediately, flinging your hands to grab for his shoulders again. Raphael can’t stop watching your face, the way your expression twists in pleasure with each thrust, the soft groans spilling from swollen lips, basking in how much you crave him. You stare into his eyes as you do as he says, taking what you need from him until it’s all too much. You give a choked sob, hip stuttering and fingers digging into his doublet as your orgasm rips through you. His arms swallow you in his embrace, pulling you tight against his chest to help guide you back down to Earth.
“I’ll amend your contract to reflect the changes discussed this evening.” Raphael purrs into your hair, lightly brushing his fingertips along your back. “I also have something for you – perfume that should mask my scent even from those with heightened senses of smell.” You lift your head up. A present? For you? Strangely sweet for a devil, even if it was to help with sneaking around.
“You’ll also add your promise to the amendment, right?” You ask sweetly, the picture of innocence. He dramatically rolls his eyes.
“If you insist.”
part three
#raphael x tav#raphael x reader#bg3 raphael x reader#raphael bg3 x reader#bg3 raphael x tav#raphael bg3 x tav#bg 3 fanfic#baldurs gate fanfic#raphael bg3#bg3 raphael#raphael#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#baldur's gate raphael#haarlep#haarlep bg3
481 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could I ask for a Astarion x Durge!Tav
I've done 2 Durge playthoughs and wish , which ever companion you romance has a reaction when Durge rejects to be bhasls chosen and gets killed but brought back to life by withers .
When the party returns to the camp after they discover she was a mastermind in all the trouble .
she doesn't talk to anyone . Especially Astarion ....She has now taken the farthest away bed from the others and waits for everyone to go to sleep and she would get up and leave kethrics netherstone next to Astarion and she would leave to face orin alone .
But by the time they find her they find her after she defeats orin she's Exhausted and bloody they would get there too late as they would enter the temple and get close to her Astarion and the others would hear her go " I reject "and see her get killed by bhaal. His love , his darling was now gone....he cradles her when withers appears to bring her back .
If this is a lot I'm sorry I got carried away . I haven't found anything but one snippet someone made about this scene . And I love you writing and wish to see your take on this .
Sorry im so late, but here i am. Lete but always coming back at a certain point t.t
BG3 x durge HC When you refuse bhaal
The shock of the new discovery downs on the group only when you return to the elfsong tavern. The room is filled with an unusual tension as everyone follows your movements unsure whether they should trust you or avoid you.
You are silent as you gather your belongings to move, your brain swirling with all the new knowledge as it threatens to overwhelm you.
You move to the bed in the very corner, opposite to where everyone rested, to give them space and to give yourself some as well as you had to reweight the path you followed and prepare for your next act.
It is past midnight when everyone is finally asleep and your plan is finally set in motion. You leave Ketheric’s netherstone on Astarion’s nightstand and leave.
Astarion notices accidentally, the clung of the stone on his nightstand somewhat wakes him from his trance, yet only when it was too late, he realizes what’s going on.
The whole group rushes through the city, quick to reach the sewers and delve deeper into the ravines as everyone is panicking. Whatever you were planning, they knew it was going to be disastrous, and they wouldn’t- no, couldn’t allow it. As much as they were shocked, they still cared about you. Yet the moment the doors of the temple of Bhaal flung open, they were late.
“I reject.” You beamed clearly, not an ounce of remorse in your voice before you quickly turn your head towards the commotion at the door, and you couldn’t help but smile as they all stood there, desperate as you breathed your last breath.
Wyll:
“DAMNED YOU, BHAAL” He yelled as he rushed to your side, his hands quickly reaching around your contorted figure, bringing you to his chest. He pressed his ear to your chest, still arched in his arms, trying to find a pulse, life, anything, yet he was met with silence.
“Shit” He murmurs as he curls on the floor, his arms bound to you as if in a curse. He had to do something. He had saved Baldur’s Gate, slayed dragons, minotaurs, and couldn’t save you, his sweet love.
How many people was he bound to lose? Was he ready to give up his dream of a life with you? No, no, no he wasn’t, so he did what his chest told him to do.
It was almost a cry in pain as he sobbed the syllables out loud, knowing she was already listening. She was always there, he knew it.
“Mizora, do what you do best” He spat as the tears still descended down his scarred cheeks.
“Now, now, pet.” She tsked sadness in her voice. “I wouldn’t rush certain decisions” She warned, aware of what was going to happen, yet incapable of telling him it was already going to be okay.
Gale:
He is rushing down to the altar, trying to stop the inevitable as he tries to cast a spell, Tiny Hut, as if it could stop a God’s punishment. He should have known better.
“Why did you do it, you fool” He cried out as he sunk to his knees, hopelessly placing his head on your chest to feel your pulse, as if the broken bones were not enough an indication of how dead you were.
The second he couldn’t feel your heartbeat, and he could physically feel your body from growing cold, he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, soaking your shirt as he clinged to you as if you were going to disappear at any moment, his sobs echoing in the temple.
“You can’t leave me, you understand?” He sobbed as he fisted your shirt and hopelessly tried to shake you awake.
Astarion
Shit.
He’s running before you can even fall to the ground, oh he wished he had some magic to protect you from the impact with the floor, but he could barely make it in time to see you eyes turn lifeless.
“You can’t do this to me, you idiot, I love you, you understand. I can’t bear to see you like this“ He cries as he hoists you up in his lap, your head lolling on his shoulder.
“I love you” He whispers as his head drops to the side, the tears flooded his eyes as he rocked the two of you back and forth. “Tav, please” He murmured as if just begging would help.
Shadowheart
They say there’s nothing worse for a medic to see their loved ones hurt, their bodies fall to the ground helpless as they can do nothing but stare. They say that you lose all reason, and that’s what she felt like. She felt as she lost everything all over again. She felt just like when she was under Shar’s tyranny all over again.. lost.
Before she could comprehend what she was doing she was on her knees, your head resting on her thighs as she rubbed her hands together and channeled all her magic in the healing spell. Yet it was not enough. She tried and tried as tears stained her cheeks as, one at a time, they joined her in a circle, some trying to reassure Shadowheart and some already feeling defeated.
But she didn't want to lose faith, she couldn't. She couldn't just abandon her lover when your love had just had the chance to blossom anew. She couldn't give up.
“Where is that sack of bones?” She wailed as she picked up the beaten body. “Someone call withers please” She'd beg desperately until he appeared in front of her, and maybe there was still a chance.
Lae’zel
You can’t be dead, she swears as you break in front of her. She wonders how you do it, to smile one last time as you bid her goodbye before falling to the ground, as your bones split in half yet you hold back the screams. It can’t be.
It takes her one second too long to realize what's going on before she’s at your side. Her hands barely shaking as she picks you up and cradles you to her chest.
“Bhaal, can you hear me?” She asks in the hollow temple. “You have made a dangerous enemy” She swears as she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I will find you and I will slain you” She screams as she does her best to hold back the tears and stop her voice from shaking. “Tsk'in'va” She can almost hear the god’s laughter as she pulls you impossibly closer, whispering in your ear. “I will avenge you, my love”
Karlach
Anger bubbles up in her stomach, as she bolts down the stairs. "you can't abandon me too, Okay Soldier?” For once she fights the rage, she turns the heat into despair as she falls to her knees and envelopes you with her warmth. It was heartbreaking, for so long she was Stripped of love, of care, and once again the universe was against her. “ FUCK YOU BHAAL. If you think you can take them away from me, you are wrong.” She pulled you up in her arms rocking your lifeless body as shadowheart approached you two. “I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND TAKE AWAY ALL YOU CARE ABOUT, You sack of shit“ She screamed in front of the hollow altar that she desecrated with her spit.
Halsin:
Halsin can’t believe his eyes; his body moves as per inertia as he rushes next to you, his arms finding their home around your middle as their usual, and yet met with your lifeless body. He doesn’t care about what happens around him, as your companions take out their weapons ready to fight, he weeps, he prays Silvanus, he holds you as if everything depends on your sweet eyes meeting his again, but he knows.
He knows deep down that Silvanus can’t help him, that his tears can’t bring you back to him, and so he clutches desperately to your cooling body, uncaring if his robes soak in your blood, uncaring if he will break down in front of everyone.
He uses all his magic attempting to heal you, he begs Shadowheart and Jaheira, but neither can help.
The room fell silent when everyone but your companions were alive, the echo of the sobs mixed with the panting as Halsin managed to cast one last spell. The crown of roses sits around your temple delicately as he can’t help but sob louder. So many times he had wished he could stop in a flowerfield to make you a crown, the crown you deserved, yet the only time he was able to give you the flowery circlet, it was as you laid dead in his embrace.
Withers speaks and speaks as Halsin weaves his hands with yours, before placing a soft kiss to your forehead. His tears stained both his and your skin as he can’t help but ignore what the Skeleton is saying, whispering prayers, begging to have you back.
“My love, please, please please” He says under his breath, his eyes are completely drained of tears, his throat is sore, his body aches from sitting on his knees for so long, and yet he doesn’t let go. “Silvanus had just blessed me with you, I can’t lose you already” He cries as he holds you to his chest tighter. Then he feels. The slow beat in your chest, your body fighting to get back in its shape, your chest rising rhythmically as your eyes finally open.
“My love” He sobs as he tightens his grip around your frame. “Don’t do this to me ever again” He nuzzles his head against your shoulders, more tears streaming heavily down his cheeks as his prayers turn to thanks.
“I thought I had lost you forever. For so long I wanted to give you a token of my love and I-” He hiccups. “I failed you, my love”
#baldurs gate 3#bg3#astarion x reader#lynn: updates☆#astarion x tav#bg3 x reader#astarion bg3#vault: lynn ☆#shadowheart x tav#tav x shadowheart#shadowheart x reader#laezel x reader#laezel bg3#laezel x tav#karlach x reader#karlach x tav#wyll x tav#wyll x reader#wyll x durge#durge x astarion#durge x gale#durge x shadowheart#shadowheart x durge#laezel x durge#halsin x reader#halsin x tav#halsin x durge#halsin x dark urge#gale x tav#gale x durge
155 notes
·
View notes
Text
| Masterlist |
First of all let me introduce myself and my blog.
Hiii, fellow monster lovers and welcome! I'm Näckros and this is my monster friendly (too friendly) side blog where I post any cute or filthy thought that crosses my mind. English is not my first language so if I make any mistakes please tell me so I can improve. I'm a porn with plot type of gal, which means that I tend to set the mood of the story before I get into the smut stuff, so (were)bear that in mind! And on that note, THIS IS A 18+ BLOG SO MINORS, BEGONE 💋
This blog is a safe space for all the weirdos and the delulus who think that they could get railed by werebeasts, minotaurs, orcs, dragons, weird aliens, giants even, and not be ripped in two. The fictional world is amazing precisely because we can do whatever the hell we want in it so let's forget the realistic technicalities while we're here, yeah? Let's allow our imagination to run free and enjoy what it comes up with. Let's be degenerates together. <3
My ask box is always open - you can send questions or open discussions about any theme regarding monsters; you can send requests of monsters you'd like to read a story about; you can send suggestions, share your own fantasies, recommending books, movies, videogames, other blogs; you can also send me feedback on things I've written (it's always highly appreciated and motivating). I do not put any limits - If I don't like something, I will simply not answer.
My DMs are also always open for anyone who wants to chat and become mutuals, but please be patient with me if I'm late to answer. I swear I'm not ignoring you, I'm just anxious + lazy + unable to manage time but also always doing something, which could be either writing stories for this blog, or fanfictions for my main blog or making digital art for my art side blog. So yeah, I won't always be avaliable, nor will I post daily on here.
I have a Ko-fi where you can leave tips if you like what I write and you want (but mostly, can) support me. I write for my own enjoyment of course but I'm a jobless student and money unfortunately is scarse. So even just a small tip as a 'thank you' can help me.
What else can I add?
BE RESPECTFUL - DO NOT SHAME ANYONE FOR THEIR KINKS - DO NOT BE RUDE - DO NOT COPY OR REPOST OR TRANSLATE OR MODIFY MY STORIES IN ANY WAY
That being said, enjoy your stay and thank you for following this weirdo here and enjoying the products of her weird mind 💜
SFW | scenarios - imagines - fics
Cold Hands -> vampire boyfriend x afab!human
Nighttime Muse -> vampire boyfriend x human
Meet Cute -> minotaur x human - more about this
Accidental Summoning -> demon-like creature x afab!human
Bouncer in Love -> [part 2] - [part 3 coming soon] werebear bouncer x afab!human
Death in Childbirth -> dragon husband x afab!human
Cat and Mouse -> werepanther biker x afab!human
NSFW | scenarios - imagines - fics
Period Tracker -> werewolf boyfriend x afab!human
The Lover -> [part.2 coming soon] unknown monster x afab!human
First Date with BFF -> werewolf x human
Ready For His Cock -> minotaur boyfriend x afab!human
Big Bad Wolf -> werewolf boyfriend x human
Well-Fed Cat -> cat hybrid boyfriend x afab!human
Tests Subjects -> werebear x human [longer fic coming soon]
Prankster -> [part 2] ghost x afab!human
Pouncing Panther -> werepanther husband x human
Dirty Hobby -> roommate!werewolf x afab!human
Wet for the Doctor -> gyno!lizard man x afab!human [longer fic]
Tavern Orgy -> multiple monsters x fem!human
Companionship in the Labyrinth -> minotaur x afab!human
Cow Dreams -> alien x afab!human
Helping Hand -> centaur x human
Ishtà-kurme -> husband!orc x chubby!fem!human x husband's sons
_
Jack of all Trades -> robot x afab!human
Full of Eggs -> mothman x afab!reader
Search #teratosnack's poll for all the polls I made
Search #monster art or #terato art for the beautiful art I reblog
Search #teratosnack for all my stories
Search #snack answered; for my answers to your asks
Credits to @ anitalenia for all the dividers I use for my posts 🫶🏻
#teratosnacks#monsters#monster lover#exophilia#monster love#terato#monster x human#teratophillia#monster kink#monster fucker#monster boyfriend#monster romance#monster smut#monster x reader#tw monsterfucking#monster scenario#monster imagine#terato x reader#terat0philliac
157 notes
·
View notes
Note
Resubmitting because my WiFi weirded out when I was posting.
Jean convinces Diluc to dump you for her, because you are, in her own words, 'Not noble enough'.
With nothing holding you back in Mondstadt, you return to Inazuma to take up your Clan duties.
Less than a year later, you receive Diluc and Jean's wedding invite and you attend with Ayato as your plus-one.
At the reception, Eula instantly recognizes your Clan crest on your obi belt.
Jean proceeds to mock you as she makes her rounds to greet her wedding guest and Eula defends you, stating that your Clan is the overseer of the Tri-Commission *and* the First Clan of Inazuma, out-ranked only by the Raidan Shogun and Yae Miko. And you are its Clan Head.
Diluc ♡⊹˚ Not Enough (SFW)
fem. reader (3rd person) ; angst. cw for jealousy, heartbreak. Implied Ayato x reader.
4k words.
notes. Alright I am back with a bag of piping hot telenovela drama! I had a lot of fun writing this, even if I fear my Jean and my Diluc turned out a little ooc? Oh and Ayato is a petty menace. Well, suffice to say I took some liberty with this one- I hope we can just slide past through it and I’ll get better at their portrayals eventually <3. Enjoy!✧˖°
The tranquility of Mondstadt, accompanied by the welcomed breezes it brought daily, was enough for anyone to fall in love with the country. The land of the Anemo Archon was blessed with peace, as well as a beauty to behold as its people were one of the most welcoming [F/N] had ever come across. It had been enough to compel her to stay a little longer when she’d begun traveling around Teyvat, with it bringing something more that urged her to remain there.
Diluc Ragnvindr, an otherwise very well known bachelor of Mondstadt, had certainly caught her eye. The feeling seemed to have been mutual, for [F/N]’s appearance and Inazuman style of clothing definitely stood out amongst the usual crowd. It had begun friendly enough, the winery tycoon seeking information regarding the Inazuman palette when it came to alcoholic beverages. Of course, as a businessman Diluc had plans of expanding to other nations, with or without vision hunt decrees meddling in the middle. During that time, [F/N] had remained in Mondstadt, visibly stressed with the fate of her country. Thankfully, she had a friendly shoulder to rely on on the same wealthy bachelor. It turned out Diluc wasn’t all appearances, his very being burning with a gentleness that was enough to swoon the young woman off her feet.
[F/N] was far from her family during said time, and exchanging letters was difficult. She’d never been exactly too open when it came to them, yet no one wished to pry. With the borders closed, she had next to no possibility of returning without possibly being detained, regardless of status. War reeked with personal vendettas after all, and to someone of high status as herself, many would indeed covet to take what was hers amidst the chaos. Unbeknownst to her, it had been these early signs of trouble that had helped her in convincing her father of letting her seek out the world whilst she could, sending his only daughter off to the land of the free before she too were to be caged down by duties and unfortunate circumstances.
Homesickness was terrible, but thankfully she had Diluc to aid her. Together they’d spend time together, whether that was in Angel’s Share as the bustling tavern closed its doors for the night, or whenever he offered her to have a tranquil walk through the Dawn Winery. His estate had quickly become one of her favorites, the scenery and the sound of the rustling leaves bringing an inner peace strong enough to temporarily wash away her worries. With the more time they spent together, they found more in common that they had, including dreams, plans for the future, even hobbies. It wouldn’t be difficult to find the pair reading by the fireplace, or even discussing various topics while enjoying a game of chess, hence many murmurs of Diluc’s sweetheart beginning to circle throughout Mondstadt.
Still, he was a traditional man when it came to such affairs. Diluc was one to take things slowly, yet it was more than noticeable the way he held her hand gently, the way he’d open doors whenever they arrived somewhere, the way his hand would linger on her lower back as they walked through the streets. It wasn’t as though they were official yet, but to [F/N], it was more than apparent she was being courted. And truth be told, her heart couldn’t leap any higher. Sadly, her expectations would come crashing to the ground, coincidentally just as the climax of the vision hunt decree took place miles away in Inazuma.
Diluc had grown hesitant, a little distant even. He was a man to remain firm in his beliefs, yet with the right approach and from the right people, even the most determined man could falter. He’d told [F/N] of stories of his childhood, of happier times when his father was around, of times he and Kaeya got along well. Of times he had friends over at the winery, when his mind would only be preoccupied with fantasies he’d construct with his friends at the height of their innocence. [F/N] had listened to him happily, content with the idea of him having a good childhood, of having good friends. Good friends such as Jean Gunnhildr. [F/N] had noticed the way her glance would sparkle at him, yet they were only friends he’d reassured her, and it would’ve definitely seemed as such before it no longer did. The young lady wasn’t ignorant; the way Jean eyed Diluc paralleled the way she did as well, yet she had confidence in the chance she had with him until he’d taken the first step backwards.
He’d been calm, gentle with her upon shooting her down. His heart was murky, he had too many responsibilities. He had a lot to take care of between his tavern and his winery, as well as other responsibilities she wasn’t aware of. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to commit, and he was most sorry for leading her on. [F/N]’s heart broke with the way she was shot down, yet she gracefully smiled still, thanking him for his honesty. Even though she was the one being rejected, the woman placed a friendly hand on his arm, ensuring there were no harsh feelings, as well as wishing him the very best. Wishing that he soon find himself, reassuring that she would always support him. The urge to cry was strong, more so with the way his often gentle gaze shifted away from her. Yet, [F/N] persevered, pushing back any theories her mind crafted as the man she’d grown to love was swept away from her fingers.
A gut feeling whispered to her that Jean had been the instigator, yet with no concrete proof, [F/N] was left out in the rain as Mondstadt grew less and less picturesque. The winery didn’t feel welcoming anymore, the once bustling streets of the main city were now noisy instead of charming. The mere sight of the crest of the knights of Favonius irked her, for it reminded her of the woman she knew was the reason Diluc had grown distant. In all her years of education back in Inazuma, [F/N] had grown to know when a rival struck through the shadows. She’d grown to realize the subtle signs, yet she’d held on faith for her beloved’s friend. It had proved futile, and now, bitterness replaced the fondness she’d held for the city of freedom.
[F/N] held a letter that had finally reached her from her home country, bags being packed by the few escorts that had arrived to retrieve her. She’d arranged for them to only move at night, lest she wished to have unwanted attention on her as well as the Inazuman samurai her bedridden father had sent for her. Her duties ripped her out of her wishes to remain in Mondstadt, reality beckoning her back as her dreams were left behind with a broken heart, swept by the breeze.
Ironically enough, Kaeya, of all people, had been the only one to notice her that night. There was the faint scent of wine on him, yet he was still sober enough to have a coherent speech. He’d waited for her by the city walls, a small expression of regret as he inquired if she really had to go. The relationship between the brothers was brittle to say the least, yet Kaeya would’ve been a fool to deny how Diluc seemed happy with her. How he liked seeing his brother happy. The Cavalry Captain voiced his wish for her to stay, explaining how he enjoyed her company, how Mondstadt did. It stung [F/N], yet with a sad smile, she told him she couldn’t stay even if she wished to. And without explaining further as to why she had to leave, Kaeya suddenly let out with a bitter chuckle.
“Is it because Jean sees you as not noble enough? I can assure you [F/N], no one here really cares for such superficial reasoning.”
It had struck a chord in her, for her suspicions were confirmed. All of this heartbreak had stemmed because [F/N], no matter how hard she tried, would never be one of them, the children of the wind. She was from the land of lightning, and apparently to some, appreciating and learning of their history wasn’t as good enough as being directly related to it. Her hands grasped her coat tightly, and with a curt response of how it was due to other things, she’d thanked Kaeya for everything before leaving the city in the middle of the darkness.
The voyage back to Inazuma had been long, but even more so bittersweet. She’d just arrived in time to say a final goodbye to her father, too sick to even get up from his bed as he held her hand one last time. He could see the heartbreak in her eyes, yet he was too weak to inquire on who was the monster to hurt his beloved daughter. All he could say was that the future of their clan lay now on her hands, the pressure nearly suffocating her. Amidst the conflict with the vision hunt decree, her eldest brother, who’d sided with the rebellion in secret, had been murdered, his drink poisoned. And even as justice had been served, life needed to move on, leaving the seat of Clan Head now to her.
Days in Inazuma were vinegary. Her homecoming had been filled with heartache, having lost her brother, and soon after her father as well. Days, weeks, months, they all passed in a blur, [F/N] focusing on the heavy task of overseeing the tri-commissions as she donned her clan’s crest with pride.
Not noble enough, it kept repeating inside her head every day, every time she put her obi on. The young woman hated to admit it, but the pettiness of it all had become her drive, fueling her as she surpassed her father in more aspects than one. In a short amount of time, she’d proved herself as a worthy ruler of her clan, an iron fist masked with elegance and grace as her name grew more and more respected by all the other clans.
Despite her secluded life filled with responsibility, as well as her still distrusting heart, [F/N] allowed very few people in. She could count her friendly acquaintances with solely one hand, but amongst them were the Kamisato siblings. Businesses aside, they were able to lay down their crests for an afternoon every once in a while, enjoying each other’s company over finely brewed tea as they watched the sunset together, recounting stories to one another as time flew by during such leisure moments.
It had been during one such rare occasion, that [F/N] found herself enjoying tea with Kamisato Ayato, his sister busy with her own set of duties whilst the Commissioner took a much needed break. His trained eye could see how she was tense, eyes lowered as they remained narrowed with a bitterness he’d known all too well. Gently, he’d inquired if all was well, and with a quick glance, [F/N] debated if she should burden the already busy head of the Yashiro Commission with her petty bickering.
“You should know by now that I’m not one to ask things out of courtesy, [F/N].” Ayato had calmly stated, an enigmatic smile dancing on his lips as she took a sip of her tea. “I’m genuinely inquiring about your well-being, for I do in fact care. So please, if something is troubling you, do not hesitate to say.”
And with a heavy sigh, the woman placed her cup down, before finally coming clean. From her large sleeve she revealed to him a sealed letter, one with a wax stamp of nothing more than the Ragnvindr clan displayed on it.
“It seems one of my acquaintances back in Mondstadt is about to get married, and has decided to invite me to his wedding.” Ayato hid his grin of amusement with the way she spat the word acquaintance with such distaste. It was enough for him to have an inkling of what could’ve transpired during her stay in the land of the Anemo Archon. “I suppose it’s his way of voicing his wish of letting bygones be bygones, but I cannot help but taste the sweet irony of it all.”
“Oh? Has he, perchance, hurt you deeply?” He’d inquired, watching as she lowly nodded her head.
“I was under the assumption he’d been courting me,” [F/N] revealed to her friend, remembering the way her heart clenched upon first reading its contents. The fact he was marrying after such little time apart, and to Jean no less, still filled her broken heart with such indescribable bitterness. “But then… Nevermind. I was needed to return, regardless. One way or another, it would’ve ended in tragedy.”
“My deepest condolences.” Ayato spoke softly, his hand gently resting atop hers before holding it cordially. “Do you intend on skipping the wedding? Just know there is no shame in doing what’s best for you.”
“I’ve thought about it.” She sighed, holding his hand back with a thankful squeeze. “Yet, I can’t bring myself to shut him off entirely either. He was, after all, someone who had helped me a lot during my stay in Mondstadt.”
“Ah yes, the heart is a most complex little thing…” Ayato breathed out, a faint smile on his face as he offered her an understanding glance. “When is it taking place?”
“In about three months.” [F/N] had nearly sulked, still glaring at the letter as if her sheer glance could burn the whole thing. Ayato had simply nodded, before insisting she take a little longer to reflect on what would be best for her.
In truth, Ayato decided to free up his schedule for three months into the future. Not only could he be a little petty when it came to his own allies, he truly did care for the well-being of his friend. In all honesty, perhaps it was best he didn’t know the full details of how she’d been shot down, lest he make an even bigger, yet still elegant, ruckus. In the end, he’d offered his company were she to decide on going to the celebration, and against all odds, [F/N] had accepted. With Ayato by her side, the young woman felt a sudden surge of confidence. Perhaps it was the idea of her being accompanied by a kind, and well accomplished man, that had her feeling that way.
And with her confirmation letter being sent with the intent on bringing a plus one, time was the only thing between [F/N] and her return to Mondstadt. Diluc was surprised she’d accepted, but he couldn’t deny he was happy. In all honesty, he truly wished for them to start over, for her friendship was deeply valued to the man. Jean on the other hand, was a little flabbergasted she’d accepted. To her, it had solely been a courtesy to send an invite, yet she’d be lying if she hadn’t predicted her decline of attending their wedding. Despite the slight disappointment, the Lionfang Knight was already stressed as it was; perhaps it would be best to just ignore it, and prepare for their big day as best as she could.
The day for their voyage had arrived, and true to his word, Ayato accompanied her on their ship. Everything had been prepared, their duties being fulfilled by others for the duration of their trip. It was a much needed breath of fresh air, a small vacation he’d joked, smiling with eloquence even when he wasn’t one to enjoy large group gatherings. He’d insisted that he and [F/N] both dress in their finest clothing, for they were representing their Clans on foreign lands, and by extension, representing Her Excellency as well. Their crests displayed proudly on their clothing, made of the finest silks and brightest tones, arms linking together as [F/N] held her fan to her lips as they finally disembarked at the docks.
Ayato had surely made a statement with the entire entourage he’d organized for the two of them, it almost seemed as though he indeed knew of what had been the reason given for their breakup. Then again, [F/N] thought, perhaps he did know. Ayato was a man of many means after all, who was to say he hadn’t read her bitterness like an open book? The way [F/N] looked at him smiling in that knowing way of his didn’t help her case, either… Well, it was too late to go back, anyway.
The way they’d arrived on Mondstadt had certainly caused an uproar, citizens watching in curiosity as the samurai escorted them to the hotel where they would stay until the day of the festivities. Most of the Knights of Favonius were busy as per usual, away from their arrival save for the guards stationed at the city gates who had warmly welcomed them upon confirming their identities and the purpose of their visit. Gossip was quick to follow, yet Ayato paid no mind, calmly chatting away with [F/N] as they were led to their rooms.
News of wealthy guests from the east reached the couple’s ears, yet neither Diluc nor Jean paid much mind. After all, Diluc had many wealthy acquaintances, most of them stemming from his businesses within the wine industry. All he cared for was to ensure all their confirmed guests had indeed arrived, including [F/N]. And upon being told she had in fact, he only nodded his head, not inquiring any further. Him and his bride were much too busy making the final preparations after all, and unbeknownst to him, Kaeya only watched in the background, an amused grin on his face as he patiently waited for the big show.
The bells rang with vigor on the big day, [F/N] jolting inside her room as she wasn’t exactly used to the way their Church would announce anything so loudly. Ayato had already finished preparing, smiling her way before offering his help in adjusting her obi.
“You look positively beautiful.” He’d stated in a matter-of-fact tone, watching as she smiled at him with an honest, thankful gleam. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” She had sighed, nodding her head as she inwardly psyched herself up to go forth with the day. And without much issue, the pair left their hotel and made haste for the sight of the ceremony.
Amidst the sea of guests, their presence had gone mostly unnoticed. It was best as such, [F/N] gazing ahead as she watched the man who she’d once thought would be the one marry another woman. Her heart still clenched slightly at the reality, yet Ayato’s presence helped her in grounding herself as she took a deeper breath. Her arm remained around his, admiring how beautiful they looked, how happy they gazed at one another. Even if Jean forever held a deep stain in her eyes, she couldn’t deny how radiant and gorgeous she looked in her wedding gown. The warm glow of the church veiled around them in a romantic manner, the union finally being tied as the main ceremony came to a close. For the first time in a while, [F/N] found herself smiling at the sight of Diluc with another. Perhaps, she thought, she would eventually get through this. Even if it still hurt, even if she still thought back on how she hadn’t been enough.
Customs between Mondstadt’s weddings and Inazuma’s weddings differed, yet she and Ayato found themselves easily following along as everyone moved on to the reception. It was during this time that the guests began conversing more freely with one another, finally having a look around as they noted who had come to support the happy couple, who had come with whom. It was during this time that [F/N] could feel eyes on her, glances of surprise to herself and her partner being shared as she commented on how the food was delightful with Ayato.
“Is that… [F/N]?” Eula had commented with Kaeya, who had nodded his head with an amused grin on his face. Despite the elaborate way she dressed when in comparison with the way she did when she had stayed in Mondstadt, nothing could escape her eye as a noble herself. “She looks radiant. And the man beside her…”
[F/N]’s voice could be heard not far, Ayato relishing in the way his comment had brought a laugh out of her. He patted himself on his back for having gotten the willpower to deal with such a packed event, for the way his friend seemed more relaxed had been more than worth it in his eyes. They kept on chatting together, a select few female acquaintances of [F/N]’s joining them as they soon found more company to converse with.
“[F/N]! It’s been so long… How have you been?”
“You look amazing, [F/N]! I heard you’ve returned to Inazuma suddenly, is everything alright?”
“Who’s your friend there, [F/N]?” Followed with a knowing wink, causing the woman to blush before denying their accusations any further.
Despite everything, the attention directed to a corner of their reception definitely wasn’t unnoticed by the happy couple, more so by the bride as her violet eyes gazed around. Jean found herself surprised upon landing her eyes on [F/N]’s face, recognizing her rather quickly despite the intricate ornaments she wore on her hair and the delicate makeup. She looked stunning, she thought, before stopping herself and clearing her throat.
Her wandering gaze hadn’t gone unnoticed by Diluc, whose eyes followed before landing on [F/N] as well. It took him a moment to register who it was, and when it did, his shifting expression caused a stir of emotions deep within his bride.
“[F/N]?...” He’d muttered, Jean squeezing his hand lightly to return his attention to her.
“Come Diluc, we have to thank everyone for coming.” She’d hastily led him to the table where the rest of the Knights dined, all raising glasses of champagne and wine as the couple approached them.
“Ah, Diluc, Jean! The ceremony was wonderful,” Lisa had smiled their way, a giggle following. “I nearly teared up at the vows. Goodness, weddings always make me so emotional.”
“The food is also delectable.” Kaeya grinned, his glass rising slightly above the others as he gave his brother a nod. “Congratulations to the both of you.”
“Congratulations! May your years be blessed with happiness and good fortune!” Amber smiled brightly.
“Yes, congratulations.” Eula complemented, smiling softly as Diluc held Jean close.
“Thank you everyone for coming. It is an honor to share such an important day with you all.” Diluc said with the utmost sincerity, smiling softly as Jean rested her hand on his chest.
“It’s a great pleasure.” Eula’s gaze narrowed as she could sense an unnecessary comment bubbling within Kaeya’s chest. The way he grinned spelled trouble, and just as she predicted so, the man swirled his glass of wine before he continued. “Of course, we wouldn’t miss your wedding for nothing! But perhaps it’s to those who’ve come from the furthest you should extend your greatest gratitudes.”
“Of course, we intend on thanking everyone as we go around every table.” Jean huffed with a small smile, still not following where he was headed. She rested a hand on her hip as she raised an eyebrow softly, Diluc too eyeing his brother as if expecting more.
“Oh, that’s great! I was beginning to think you were rounding around [F/N]’s table on purpose. But then again, you must still be thinking about how to properly thank her, no?”
“Kaeya!” Amber sighed, shaking her head as the mood slightly shifted around the table. The man simply shrugged, sipping on his wine before sighing with content over the wonderful undertones, as he explained.
“Ah, Diluc! Congratulations, you lucky bastard!” Varka’s voice roared across the reception hall, hands plopping down on his shoulders as he laughed loudly. Diluc could only remain awkward as he quietly thanked him, the Grand Master practically whisking him away as he further congratulated him and gave him lessons on how to ensure his wife’s happiness.
“Honestly, I was surprised to know she’d be coming.” Jean watched her husband not stray too far, finally letting out a small sigh and folding her arms across her chest. “I’m still not quite sure how we’re going to address this, as her presence seems… Rather ill-intended.”
“Oh?” Kaeya’s gaze turned to her from the corner of his eyes, finding her choice of words amusing as he let her ramble on.
“Diluc had voiced his wish of inviting her, and thinking it was just a formality I decided to agree with it. But for her to actually accept and show up seems bitter.” It was clear the stress was racing to her head, the table listening awkwardly as she rambled on. “While I understand it still must hurt given the circumstances, we would’ve hoped she would’ve let bygones be bygones. I simply find her actions to lack in-”
“Nobility?” Eula scoffed quietly, eyebrow raising quietly before watching Jean hesitate if she agreed with her or not. It was her turn to cross her arms, speaking directly to her. “I find it quite the opposite. I think that accepting and coming by to show her support shows just how noble she is. After all, for the head of her clan to not show up would’ve been scandalous. Do you know what kind of rumors that would start up, Jean?”
“Wait- Did you just say head of her clan?” Amber repeated, her eyes widening as Eula nodded her head.
“Yes. Haven’t you all realized? Look, notice [F/N]’s obi.” The group found themselves rather indiscreetly gazing towards [F/N]’s table, the crest displayed with pride as she enjoyed Ayato’s company. “It’s the crest of the first clan of Inazuma, otherwise known as the overseer of the Tri-Commissions of the nation. Basically, it’s the oldest still standing clan of the nation, only surpassed by the Archon herself and their Guji.”
The table slowly digested the information, Eula proving yet again just how well educated she was not only to what concerned Mondstadt, but aristocracy of other nations as well. Her legs remained crossed as she finished explaining herself, leg bouncing lightly as she battled with herself to remain cordial despite not having quite liked her friend’s statement. Even if Jean was overly stressed, or their situation with [F/N] hadn’t been ideal, it had most definitely been an unnecessary comment.
“Besides, the man next to her is none other than the head of the Yashiro Commission. Their Commission has many duties, including overseeing ceremonies and rituals that do include weddings. So, her choice of companion can most definitely be seen as yet another layer to her virtuous acceptance of your invitation.”
Kaeya found himself grinning unabashedly at the way Jean glanced away, clearly embarrassed with the outcome of the situation. She still held her arms crossed around her chest in a defensive manner, the Cavalry Captain thinking it would just be best if she left to avoid any further hits to her pride. For the first time in a while, he found himself agreeing fully with Eula, letting her take the reins of the situation as Jean’s ego was put in place. Sure, Kaeya liked Jean. Yet still, he couldn’t deny he thought [F/N] would’ve been a better match for Diluc. Call him petty, but he was enjoying the situation.
“Sorry about that,” Diluc sighed as he returned to their side, his hand resting on Jean’s waist as he gazed around the table. “Erhm, everything alright? You all look, how should I put it…”
“Nothing to worry about.” His brother grinned, waving his hand dismissively as everyone began eating their food. “You go and thank everyone for coming by, yeah? Enjoy yourselves, after all it’s your wedding day!”
Despite the confusion with his sudden upbeat tone, Diluc simply nodded, leading his bride to continue on going through table to table. Needless to say, now that it was he who took the lead, they soon found themselves at [F/N]’s table, the man surprised to see her so intricately dressed and in the presence of someone of such stature.
Nonetheless, and despite the sudden lump of awkwardness that lodged itself in his throat, Diluc took his time to properly thank them for coming, [F/N] simply gazing at them and replying it was their pleasure. Ayato was the one to take charge in their response, smiling cordially as he basked in the way his bride seemed to avert her gaze from them. If looks could diminish someone’s presence, Jean would’ve been long gone, reduced to atoms. And Ayato would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it, holding [F/N]’s hand with such delicacy as if they were more than friends.
And as they left, he carefully leaned over her ear, watching as she met him halfway to hear what he had to say.
“Well, that was amusing. Perhaps next year we should invite them to our wedding. A fun retaliation, no?”
“W-What?”
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin diluc x reader#genshin impact diluc x reader#genshin impact x reader#diluc ragnivindr x reader#genshin angst#genshin impact angst#yoko drabbles
822 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Little Treat
(with their cheeks all flushed)
Pairing: Astarion x Evelyn (Named Tav)
Rating: Mature
Key Tags: Sweet, soft, (candy) corny established relationship fluff, Astarion being mischievous
Summary:
How could she say no when he kissed her so hungrily? When he darted away not moments after, muttering excitedly beneath his breath about thread and tulle and silk? It’s the same reason she’s been talked into and out of so much else: the man is a menace.
Evelyn and Astarion celebrate Harvest’s End. Astarion has a trick up his sleeve for his dearest treat.
A/N: For my dear friend @nyx-knox as part of a fall server exchange <3 Evelyn, the lovely named Tav in this fic, belongs to Nyx. I hope I did her justice! Occurs sometime after the final battle with the Netherbrain, and/or in a dream if it better suits Evelyn’s story. :)
I have no idea if Halloween exists in Faerun or not, and I decided not to look it up! So we’re calling it Harvest’s End instead!
Click here to read on AO3 instead
Evelyn shivers, rubbing friction against her bare arms for meager warmth. The autumn breeze bites meaner than Astarion ever would. But he’s to blame all the same; after all, he’s the reason she’s wearing nearly nothing, at nearly midnight, out in lantern-lit streets of Baldur’s Gate.
At least she’s not the only one in such attire. The streets brim with a menagerie of costumed celebrants, all seemingly dressed as courtesans. Or at the very least, dressed as monsters, fairytale characters, and heroes who all moonlight as courtesans. Evelyn’s eyes drift over a woman in a scaled, glimmering gown. She must be a mermaid. She trembles like the fallen leaves do as the wind rustles through her slitted skirt.
Their eyes meet unwittingly. Evelyn can’t help a small chuckle of empathy. The stranger returns Evelyn’s warm, knowing smile. ‘Tis the season for showing skin, even in the cold.
Despite the late hour, the Gate is awake with boisterous laughter. Bards strum jaunty songs in every square. Every tavern’s doors are propped open to accommodate overflowing crowds. The chill is battled back by the cozy scents of pecan pie and apple cider wafting from the windows. Carved pumpkins line the cobblestones, aglow with orange candlelight.
The whole city celebrates Harvest’s End in the same manner each year. This year, Evelyn meant to celebrate it with Astarion. She still means to. She carries on down the avenue, slowing to a stop just outside the high shrubbery of the haunted hedge maze. Shrieks mingle with the giddy giggling of the stumbling passersby, but Evelyn doesn’t so much as flinch.
She scans the rosy-cheeked faces for one that’s ghostly pale. A handful of times, she catches the flutter of a dark cape. But each time she looks up, her hopes are punctured by the decidedly fake fangs protruding from some stranger’s mouth. Dejected, she heaves a soft sigh. She can’t even conjure the will to laugh at the poor would-be-vampire that found his temporary teeth anchored in an apple, caramel glistening sticky in his beard.
Her vampire still hasn’t found her. Or rather, she hasn’t found him. The sorceress was supposed to meet him somewhere in this vicinity, about a quarter before the witching hour. Familiar chimes echo across the city, heralding its arrival.
Gooseflesh wakes along her naked shoulders. The chill seeps between her breasts, nearly spilling from the lace corset cupping them tight as a lover. But where in the hells is her lover? A small frown tugs on her lips. He wouldn’t be so mean as to stand her up now.
Not like this, with her cheeks flushed apple red. He wouldn’t.
…would he? He hadn’t been keen on coming from the start. She’d had to talk him into it. And in so doing, Astarion talked her into this.
“What’s this?” Astarion’s chin settles against Evelyn’s shoulder.
She grins to the soft feel of his mouth against the slight point of her ear. For a moment, he’s silent as he skims the piece of parchment held in front of her. She’d seen the flier by chance out in the market and taken it with her on her way back to him.
“Ugh,” he groans. His hands wrap her waist, squeezing her as if for comfort. “A costume party? For Harvest’s End? How utterly gauche.”
“It’s a pretty common tradition,” she snickers.
“Exactly,” Astarion grumbles. “It’s common. A masquerade is a far more elegant and dignified affair. Something far more suitable for us saviors of the city.”
Evelyn’s smile fades, golden eyes glazed in thought. “It could be fun to do something common. Something normal. Not much has been, since the tadpoles. Even after them. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what it’s like.”
She can feel his scowl growing against her neck. Petal-soft lips lay the gentlest of kisses there. Her eyes flutter shut.
“That sounds like a good thing, dear,” he murmurs darkly. “Something better to forget.”
Evelyn blinks, worry creeping into her thoughts like a dark, drifting cloud. She turns in the circle of his arms, palms laid against his chest.
“What?” He asks, eyes narrowed against her scrutiny.
“Is…is Harvest’s End something you want to forget, Astarion?”
He huffs, his shoulders rolling with his eyes. “I just don’t care to see all the little morsels running around with their tacky, dull little fangs and syrup for blood. I lost count of how many costumed idiots my siblings and I snatched off the streets while they were stumbling home from some tawdry tavern after a night spent pretending to be a monster.”
Evelyn’s eyes widen. “I--”
“I’d much rather remember it with you,” he rasps.
It’s the way he looks at her that steals her breath. That heady warmth in his eyes, as if they were bathed by a hearth. As if in her, he sees the safety of walls and a snapping fire. A shelter from the cold. A place of treasured memories. Of stories told, and laughter shared.
A home.
It’s the look that does it. But the crush of his lips could’ve had her sworn off of breath for an eternity. Her mouth melts against his, and she wishes their embrace could last just as long.
When he pulls away seconds or hours later, Evelyn’s head swirls. Her stomach swoops, as if buffeted by a sudden fall. The feeling drifts down into a lightweight sense of serenity. Evelyn can summon a tempest at her whim. But if she’s a storm, Astarion’s the eye of it.
She lets out a long, contented sigh, hardly fazed or surprised when the fond gleam in his eye sharpens with cunning.
He grins. “On one condition.”
Evelyn tilts her head, mirroring his mischievous smirk. “Just the one?”
“I’ll be making our costumes,” he says, his smile growing smug. “You’ll see yours the night of the festivities. And you’ll see mine when you find me there.”
“Deal,” she says at once.
How could she have hesitated? How could she say no when he kissed her so hungrily? When he darted away not moments after, muttering excitedly beneath his breath about thread and tulle and silk?
It’s the same reason she’s been talked into and out of so much else: the man is a menace. A heartbreakingly handsome, smooth-talking, smarmy little menace. And she loves him with every fiber of her being.
Evelyn glances down at her ensemble, shuffling her feet sheepishly. At least it has pockets. Astarion made sure of it.
“Hey! Soldier!”
A familiar voice calls across the crowd. Evelyn looks up to see Karlach making her way over. Their eyes lock, and the tiefling’s widen.
“Hey, Soldier!” Karlach drawls, grinning. “Looking sweet enough to eat, I see!”
Evelyn offers her friend a half-hearted smile in return. It’s the sort of quip Astarion could make if he were here. Probably the exact line he had in mind as he laced the corset with candy pink ribbon, and frosted it with the soft crush of cream brocade along the top. The ruffled fabric sparkles with little pastel crystals, sprinkled into the folds. A dollop of the same brocade swirls atop her headband, topped with a felt cherry. Her skirt is a short puff of delicate tulle, glistening with a sugary shimmer.
My little treat, she can practically hear him croon.
Karlach’s costume isn’t so threadbare; Evelyn can only just see her friend’s eyes past the open jaws of the dragon’s head helm the tiefling wears between her horns. The ceremonial plate she dons is practical, though the same scales look heavy, laid along her tail.
“Let me guess,” Karlach snickers, “you’re--”
“Stood up.” Evelyn sighs, arms crossed.
“What? No, Fangs would never! He knows he’d hear from me about it if he did!”
Before Evelyn can utter a word in edgewise, she hears another familiar voice muttering a slew of frantic, mangled curses.
“Gale?” Evelyn tilts her head, watching the wizard stumble out of the opening between the hedges. He shoots a wary glance back over his shoulder, shuddering. “Are you all right?!”
“GAH! Ah, ah, it’s only you two! Mysta’s swirling skirts,” Gale gasps, cowering. He picks his way over to them, eyes down, sheepish.
Karlach gapes at him, incredulous. “That gods awful haunted maze has the Gale of Waterdeep quaking in his boots? The same man that faced down the Netherbrain? Are you feeling faint? Feverish, maybe? Should we fetch a cleric?”
“It’s precisely because of our prior exploits that I know the difference between fear and farce. And I’m quite alright, thank you. My heart’s only racing faster than it has since we were fighting for our lives.”
Gale huffs, fixing the black, pointed ears protruding from his slicked hair. Evelyn decides not to tell him his whiskers are smeared across his cheeks.
“Come off it,” Karlach scoffs. “I spun through that maze earlier and it was nothing but a laugh. If I didn’t crack up, I would’ve been crying about what a sad excuse it is for a scare.”
Another scream lights the night. But that’s not the noise that snags Evelyn’s ear: it’s the pitchy, breathless bark of a laugh that follows. That feels familiar.
“I’ll give it a try,” Evelyn shrugs.
“Don’t say you weren’t warned,” Gale says gravely. Karlach blows a raspberry back at him in response.
Their bickering is swallowed by the shrubbery as Evelyn steps through the spiderwebbed archway into the maze. Smoke furls across her feet, clouding the sight of them after only a few steps. The bushes rustle in a sudden flurry of movement. She tenses.
Clawed hands burst through the branches, grasping fruitlessly at empty air filled with moans and groans. They’re meant to be zombies, but the growls are shrill, and the hands, small and harmless, save for a wicked-looking hangnail. Evelyn muffles her laughter, dodging nimbly.
She takes the next turn, and then another, until the rumbling of the alleged undead dissolves to the leathery flapping of bats. Her eyes dart upwards, snagging on the dark flash of motion overhead. Her spark of excitement snuffs as soon as it came, her shoulders slumping. Surely they could’ve found some sort of caster on the streets who could do better than this shabby pair of kites passing as bats. Gale could have, had they not apparently terrified him so.
Evelyn heaves a soft, restless sigh. Karlach was right. This maze isn’t anything special. And perhaps she was a fool to think Harvest’s End could’ve been. She can tell by straining on her tip-toes that she’s nearly at the heart of the hedges.
And then, her heart skips like a stone across a pond.
A sharp, startled cry bursts through the bushes. Blotting it out is that laugh. It’s a full-bodied cackle. Devilish. Delighted. Triumphant.
Evelyn hurries towards it.
At a fork in her path, she takes the route past a gushing green cauldron, around a bend to a patch of false graves. Panting, she pauses, soaking in the scent of fresh-turned earth, and the names etched on the tombstones: Here lies Rigg. R. Mortis, Diane Rott, Rusty Kauphyn, Claire Voyant…
It brings a rueful smile to her face. She can’t help but think of another graveyard, filled with other names, one of them etched into her heart as much as his tombstone. Maybe Astarion would hate this farce, even with her. Maybe she shouldn’t have urged him to go. Maybe--
Fluid movement seeps through her periphery, a shadow spilling over the moonlight. By the time she glances over her shoulder, it’s gone. The small, stone gazebo up ahead looks as lonely as she feels.
But then, she hears it again. A soft chuckle this time, buried beneath a bated breath, tumbling like the dried leaves do down the dirt path. As if in a trance, her limbs moving of their own volition.
Evelyn follows the sound home.
She gets as far as the yawning arch at the steps when her hairs stand on end. She’s greeted by a low, rolling growl. It thrills through her, swirling sweet, tantalizing static over her skin. If she had to guess, it’s the same sound that scared Gale shitless.
Evelyn merely clicks her tongue, peering about the gazebo. “I looked everywhere for you.”
“Look up, love.”
With a shake of her head, she does. She finds him beaming down at her with a warmth to rival the sun. Astarion sprawls beneath the domed roof, braced there effortlessly. He’s far too tickled with his newfound ability to spiderclimb. It turns out such a talent comes naturally to any well-fed vampire spawn.
Whoosh.
The backflip down was far from necessary. But the hand he braces against the small of her back, and the other that hitches her knee against his hip, that’s all that’s keeping her from falling. Evelyn gasps out a giggle as he dares to dip her deeper. The graveyard sways upside down in her view: a sky full of tombstones above a sea full of stars.
“My, my,” he purrs, breath tickling her neck. “What’s a delicious thing like you doing all by your lonesome?”
“I’ve been waiting.” Evelyn drawls with a grin. “Waiting since the moment I first saw you.”
“Hm,” the soft huff of his laugh tumbles down her collar as he pulls her upright. And now that you have me?”
Blood rushes from her head, the scent of him swimming through it: the sharpness of rosemary, chased by the softness of bergamot and the richness of brandy. Astarion’s eyes flutter shut briefly, pulling in a long, satisfied breath, and pulling a blush to her cheeks with it.
Abruptly, Evelyn’s eyes narrow. “You didn’t dress up!”
“No, I didn’t,” Astarion croons, unrepentant, eyes alight with mischief. “I thought you deserved the real thing, darling.”
Something real. The sentiment is a sweet one. She’s still giving him shit for it, though.
“And you thought you deserved a treat?”
Astarion arches a brow. “Isn’t that the whole point of this holiday?”
The cool hand on her back wanders lower. With it, he wakes a heat across her skin, resilient even to the chill on the wind. She can’t help the needy noise that leaves her lips as he cups her ass and reels her body flush with his. She can’t help but tilt her head back at the mere tease of his teeth.
“I know it’s not my birthday,” he pouts, lips lingering where her pulse flutters against her neck, “but after all, what’s Harvest’s End without a graveyard smash?”
A/N: Divider credit for pre-story divider to @firefly-graphics. Scene break credit to @strangergraphics. End banner credit to @saradika-graphics. Credit to a cursory google search for some punny tombstone names!
#astarion#astarion ancunin#bg3#tavstarion#astarion x tav#evelyn hale#astarion fanfiction#astarion fluff#tavstarion fluff#astarion fanfic
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
So when discussing the ending of ‘Over the Garden Wall’ and the nature of the Unknown in general, I think it is important to remember that it’s left deliberately up for interpretation. You know, it’s not a Quiz with one concrete answer we must uncover, but it’s more about our interpretations and personal feelings. Each and every one of us experiences that journey with Wirt and Greg into the Unknown in a slightly different way.
So what I want to do here is not present a Correct Interpretation that will dispute all the others and prove them all wrong and prove myself right, I just want to share my own outlook on the nature of the Unknown. In the hopes that others will like it and it’ll inspire more cool readings and interpretations
So on some level I do agree with the popular theory that the Unknown is some sort of Afterlife - but I don’t see it as a regular Afterlife for human souls, I think it is an afterlife for Stories. This place is where fictional characters and stories end up once they’ve been totally forgotten by the living, ‘lost in the clouded annals of history’. and become.... unknown It is quite literally a place where ‘long forgotten stories are revealed to those who travel through the wood’.
That’s why the Unknown is a mishmash of different time periods and primarily visually and narratively influenced by stuff like fairy tales, ghost stories, children’s books and old cartoons - these stories have a high-tendency to be forgotten and thus get lost in the Unknown (whatever it’s because they rely on oral traditions or because they suffered from very poor preservation historically).
And that is what the theme song, ‘Into the Unknown’ is talking about…
Where can we pretend that dreams do come true? In Stories.
And what are ‘the loveliest lies of all’? Now that would be Fiction.
The entire concept of stories is a huge theme of this song, I think.
Beatrice and her family, Adelaide of the Pasture, Auntie Whispers and Lorna were all originally fairy tales. Maybe the same fairy tale, or maybe they were originally separated before being ‘melded’ together. (If, for example, the last child to Remember them before they were forgotten just assumed the Bad Witch in both the Auntie Whispers and Beatrice stories was Adelaide)
Pottsfield was an old urban legend about a haunted ghost town, Wirt and Greg basically played through its ‘plot’ directly.
Miss Langtree, the schoolhouse and the other associated characters come from a long-forgotten and out-of-print children’s book. That’s why those characters tend to talk in comically-stilted expository dialogue.
The Tavern was the setting for a series of 20’s animated cartoons. (Although obviously set long before that era). The Tavern Keeper was created as a Betty Boop clone and was the main character. The Tavern setting was probably a mere framing device for all sort of musical animations. The reason why none of them can comprehend the idea of not having some sort of Title or Label is because that’s how they were written - all given job-related titles but not named.
Fred the Talking Horse was a main character from a forgotten tradition of humorous oral stories where he was sometimes a trickstery anti-hero and sometimes a straight-up comedic villain protagonist.
Quincy Endicott and Margueritte Grey were characters from a satiric limerick about the greedy rich and their wacky habits. (Quincy was at least inspired by a real-life person since his name appears on a tombstone in the real world)
Possibly the same limerick where the punchline was the status-quo at the beginning of their OTGW ep, that both rivals’ mansions have become connected and they assume the other is a ghost haunting their house. Or maybe they were each from different regional variations of the same limerick about a greedy rich weirdo being lost in their own house and going mad.
Frogland and their little boat might be from a children’s book as well, but I also think that maybe… from the vignettes shown at the opening of the series…
That one might take place outside the Unknown, and shows the real inception of Frogland. Two brothers making up stories with their toy boat by the river. Since they never shared these stories with anyone else, when these two brothers died or maybe just grew up and forgot their boyhood misadventures by the stream - these stories also ended up in the Unknown.
The Fishing Fish we see briefly in ‘Babes in the Woods’ might be a small comedic illustration from a children’s book, or another piece of limerick, or just someone’s random notebook doodle that gained a life of its own first in the creator’s mind and then in the Unknown.
Cloud City, the North Wind and the Queen of the Clouds were also, much like the Tavern, from a very old cartoon.
The Beast was once just a mere Boogie Man to keep young children from wandering off into the woods. Ending up forgotten in the Unknown just ended up giving him a whole world of lost souls to harvest.
Maybe the Woodsman and his daughter were always a part of the story of the Beast. But since it seems that the Woodsman being a lantern-bearer is a fairly recent development - they might have had their own separate story. Some sort of pastoral novel about a family moving near the woods? But their narrative has been ‘hijacked’ by the Beast.
Wirt and Greg ended up lost within the Unknown cause had they actually died in the lake that night - they would have become a Story in their town. I mean we have a moody lonely teenager and his adorable little brother disappearing/dying - on the night of Halloween - after last being seen in a graveyard - with the older brother’s last act on this earth being to hand his crush a cassette of his love poetry. Can you imagine what sort of Urban Legenda you can grow from those seeds?
But as they were not yet dead, and not a Story yet… so they were technically an Unknown story. Between the borders of life and death from a human perspective because they were about to die, and from a Story perspective because they were just about to be born.
And the ending sequence, with the little vignettes showing where all the characters from all the episodes ended up. I think that’s almost like Wirt and Greg back in the world of the living and the real - being able to create happy endings for all of those stories they've met. That’s how the Woodsman’s daughter ended up being alive all along - it was less that the Woodsman's whole tragedy was a wacky misunderstanding all along. But it became so as a gift of thanks by their new storytellers - Wirt and Greg.
Because if dreams can't come true, than why not pretend?
588 notes
·
View notes
Note
hiiii I’m such a fan! I was browsing ur page and I saw your requests were open!! I’ve had this idea that I think you could pull off really well (if you want of course) of headcannons with Gale and Wyll and whoever else you want from the main crew. But it’s a bard Tav where Tav is a really free spirited performer, kinda Stevie Nicks-ish if that makes sense? But just how they would react to their partner performing and being so filled with whimsy lol
of course, take your time, and take care of yourself, love ya 💋
aww thank you and I love you too nonnie ! oxox
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Gale:
The Elfsong Tavern was buzzing with anticipation, the usual chatter fading to a murmur as you stepped onto the small wooden stage. Tonight, the dim, flickering lanterns cast a warm glow around the room, amplifying the earthy wood tones and illuminating the eager faces of patrons crowded around their drinks. You stood under the lights, dressed in layers of flowing scarves, fringed shawls, and beads that caught every glint of candlelight, giving you an otherworldly aura. The intricate braids and delicate trinkets woven through your hair shimmered, and your movements seemed to echo the fluidity of the music you were about to bring to life.
The tavern was filled with your companions, too; Wyll and Astarion had secured a spot near the back, their friendly bickering put on pause as they waited for your performance. Shadowheart leaned casually against the wall, though her eyes sparkled with anticipation, and Karlach was already clapping her hands in encouragement. After all, you were their one shot of paying off the drinking tab they had racked up. But amid the gathered faces, it was Gale who watched you most intently, his gaze unwavering as if committing every detail to memory. You could tell he was more than eager for this; he had heard you sing before, but he’d never seen you perform like this. Tonight, he had the look of someone watching a dream come to life before him.
As you took a deep breath, your gaze met his, and you felt a jolt of warmth, steadying you before the first note escaped your lips. When you started to sing, your voice was soft yet powerful, like smoke rising from a fire, filling every corner of the room. The melody was haunting, weaving tales of distant lands, lost lovers, and ancient magic as if you were spinning a spell in every verse. The music ebbed and flowed, pulling everyone in and wrapping them in a shared reverie. You let your hands drift through the air, each gesture enhancing the magic of your performance, your body moving with an effortless grace that only added to the ethereal atmosphere.
Gale sat close, his eyes wide with wonder, his usual thoughtful expression replaced by one of pure, unfiltered awe. He had known you were talented, but he hadn’t realized the depth of your gift until this moment. It was as though he was seeing the essence of you laid bare, wrapped in a voice that seemed to pull emotions from his soul he didn’t even know he had. His hand rested over his chest as he watched, his breath shallow, and his cheeks flushed as he tried—and failed—to keep a grin off his face.
With each song, the patrons were drawn deeper into the dreamscape you painted, applauding wildly between sets, shouting for more. Coins began piling up in the small pouch you’d left at the stage’s edge, a few admirers even coming forward to drop in gems and trinkets as tokens of their appreciation. When your final song faded, you looked out at the room, allowing yourself a breath of relief and satisfaction as the patrons erupted in applause, whistles, and cheers.
Sweeping down to gather your earnings, you glanced over at Gale, giving him a knowing smile. The coins clinked together in the pouch, heavy and promising, enough to pay off the tab and keep the camp well-supplied for some time.
“So,” you teased, swinging the pouch of coins playfully, “what do you think, Master Wizard? Impressed?” You couldn’t help but smirk, enjoying the flush of color that had spread over his cheeks.
But he didn’t answer with words. Instead, he rose from his seat and, before you could say another word, leaned forward and pulled you into a kiss. His hands were gentle but sure as they settled on your waist, his lips warm and soft against yours. The kiss was deep, sweetly lingering, full of every unspoken word of adoration he could convey. You felt him smile slightly against your mouth, his kiss a mix of passion and pride, as though he couldn’t help but show you how much he cherished this moment. When he finally pulled away, there was a brightness in his eyes, a joyful awe that left you a little breathless.
“That was… breathtaking,” he murmured, voice a touch unsteady, his hand still resting lightly on your arm. “You were absolutely enchanting. You always are, but tonight… I feel as though I’ve just met you all over again.”
The way he looked at you, as though you were the only person in the world, made your cheeks warm, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.
“You might just have to meet me all over again later, then,” you teased, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “For now, I think we’ve got some celebrating to do.”
His laugh was rich and warm as he nodded, reaching out to clasp your hand as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. The other patrons were still clapping, some singing bits of the songs you had just performed, filling the tavern with life and mirth. As you looked around, clutching Gale’s hand tightly, you felt a surge of joy and a sense of belonging that was only strengthened when you glanced back at him.
“Perhaps,” Gale said, leaning close with a mischievous grin, “we could arrange a more private encore? Not for gold this time, but… let’s say, for inspiration.”
You chuckled, cheeks still warm, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
“I’d be delighted, Gale,” you murmured, letting your thumb graze over his as you both made your way back through the crowd, the tavern still ringing with laughter and song.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Wyll:
The Elfsong Tavern was packed tonight, each seat filled and standing room claimed by folks eager to catch a glimpse of the rare performance. Word had spread that there was someone different gracing the stage, a figure draped in layers of midnight blue and silver with cascades of lace and ribbon, a glimpse of gold dusting your cheeks and collarbone. A glimmering amulet rested against your collar, catching the dim, amber tavern lights, casting an ethereal glow as you moved gracefully across the small, candle-lit stage.
At the back of the room, Wyll had found a perch along the wall, one hand resting on his hip as he leaned back, eyes fixed on you. He’d heard you sing before, often in quiet moments meant only for him and only with the flickering light of a campfire between you. It had been a comfort, the way your voice brought life to tales of distant places and people, weaving threads of fantasy that had soothed his weary spirit after long days. He’d known your voice was magic, but this was different. Tonight, you were stepping onto a stage that turned every eye in the tavern toward you, and he found himself awash in pride and something deeper, something far harder to name.
When you began to sing, the lively hum of the crowd faded into an awe-struck silence. Your voice rose, weaving tales of wild-hearted love, of spirit unbound by law or fear. Each word seemed spun from silver and mist, filling the room with a longing so palpable that Wyll felt his own heart pull with it. He barely registered the breaths he took; each one was held between your lyrics, his gaze transfixed by the way you moved, as if the tavern itself became a world of your creation, an enchanted space, and everyone present was helplessly pulled into your orbit.
You sang of love lost and found, of adventures taken in far-off lands under strange, foreign skies. The layers of your voice, low and haunting, rose to peaks of passion, before returning to gentle refrains that wrapped around each listener, drawing them into your spell.
Your eyes, half-lidded and glittering, swept the crowd but always returned to Wyll, grounding him even as he felt himself drifting deeper into your enchantment. It was as if he were seeing you for the first time, and the realization that he could fall even deeper, love you more wholly, made his heart skip a beat.
As the final note faded, the crowd broke into thunderous applause, cheers rising and the atmosphere charged with a sort of collective reverence. You smiled, a soft, almost private smile, as you offered a bow, looking radiant in the warm light, your cheeks flushed with joy. You slipped off the stage, weaving through the tables until you found yourself standing before him. Your expression shifted to that familiar look, a soft amusement in your eyes as you caught Wyll’s unblinking gaze.
“Well, my gallant hero,” you teased, nudging him playfully, “how much gold did we rake in?”
Wyll blinked, still dazed as he registered your words, his eyes slowly focusing.
“The gold… right, of course, the gold…” He fumbled in his pocket, eyes still locked onto yours as if you’d vanish if he looked away. He was meant to collect gold, to raise some money for the refugees stuck in Rivington. His lips parted, and he tried again. “The gold’s… here. I think…”
You chuckled, crossing your arms as you tilted your head, studying him with a raised eyebrow. “Wyll Ravengard, did I leave you speechless?”
“Speechless?” he said, a bit dazed, before laughing softly, his voice catching. “You left me… spellbound.” He reached for your hand, fingers grazing over your knuckles as he held your gaze, his dark eyes warm and reverent. “I knew you were magic, love. But I didn’t know…” He trailed off, swallowing as he shook his head, his hand squeezing yours. “Didn’t know you could make the world disappear like that.”
Your smile softened, your fingers tightening in his as you took a small step closer. “Just a little music, Wyll.”
“No,” he said, his voice soft but certain. “It’s you.” He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Every word, every note… I swear it was just for me.” You could see him wrestling with his own words, fumbling for how to say what he felt.
Finally, he let out a soft chuckle, his expression slipping into something both tender and slightly bashful as he ran a hand through his hair. “I think I’m a fool, standing here in a love-struck haze when we’ve got a tavern’s worth of coins to count."
“Maybe so,” you murmured, unable to resist a grin as you reached up, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “But it’s quite charming, you know?”
He grinned, the teasing warmth in his expression faltering slightly as he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you close. His hand found the small of your back, his other tracing the edge of your jaw as he leaned down, his forehead resting gently against yours. His voice softened to a whisper, as if sharing a secret only meant for you.
“I don’t ever want to stop loving you like this,” he said, his breath ghosting over your cheek. “You make me feel… everything. As if all the world could vanish, and I’d still have everything I need, right here with you.”
You felt your heart stutter, warmth flooding through you as you leaned into his touch, your own fingers curling around the back of his neck.
“Wyll Ravengard,” you whispered, leaning in until your lips brushed his, “if you keep this up, we may just end up broke—because I’ll only be singing for you.”
His laughter was soft, breathy, and it melted into a sigh as he pressed his lips to yours, the tavern and its patrons fading away until it felt like just the two of you beneath a star-lit sky.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Awww i do love these softies. Hope you guys enjoyed this! - Seluney xox
If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x
#wyll bg3#bg3#baldurs gate 3#bg3 tav#baldurs gate tav#baldurs gate iii#wyll x reader#wyll#baldurs gate wyll#bg3 wyll#wyll ravengard#wyll x tav#wyll ravengard x tav#wyll ravengard x reader#baldurs gate gale#gale x reader#gale x tav#gale dekarios x tav#gale dekarios x reader#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#gale bg3#bg3 gale#bard tav#bg3 bard
67 notes
·
View notes