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1800-fight-me · 1 month ago

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Safety in Your Arms

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader Rating: M (Mature but as always-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: Cursing, threats of violence, stranger danger i.e. stalking but don't worry Logan saves the day Word count: A bit over 2k Synopsis: Logan protects you from the unwanted advances of another man and shows protectiveness and care you didn't know he had for you. Author’s note: I'm thinking this might need a part two, let me know what y'all think- I hope you enjoy! P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Logan Howlett Masterlist Main Masterlist

There was a cold panic that shot down your spine. Fight or flight, you’d learned the technical term, but now experienced it for yourself.

The five minute walk between your work and your apartment had never felt so long. It all started with a creepy customer- which was a regular occurrence at your job- but this customer took it far beyond creepy.

He tried to make too much small talk, stared too much, made a few too many over the line comments, and was entirely too pushy when asking for your phone number. Your one male coworker escorted him out and you thought that was the end of it.

Hours went by, you assured your coworkers multiple times that you were fine and you were safe, and eventually you were the last one left to close and lock up.

But only one block away from your workplace, you had the feeling of being watched- of being followed. And it was just your luck that your phone was dead and you’d forgotten your charger at home.

You changed your route, taking one that was a bit longer but also more well lit and populated. With a glance back you confirmed your worry, that it was in fact the same creepy guy from hours before.

Your heart pounded with terror as you contemplated every option for safety. Your apartment building required a code to enter, so you sped your walk, hoping if you slipped into the building and shut the door behind you that it would be enough.

“Hey,” the man’s voice called out, but you refused to look back.

Your apartment building was within sight, but the man’s catcalls and jeers were also getting louder and closer.

“Hey, c’mere pretty lady! I’ve got somethin’ for ya!”

Your whole body shuddered in fear. Your next door neighbor stepped outside of the front door of the apartment building and you nearly sobbed in relief.

“Logan!” you called out.

He looked up in surprise, but his expression quickly turned to concern as he saw the stress in your entire demeanor.

You practically ran to him and threw your arms around his torso in a hug he clearly did not expect. He hugged you back, but you felt him stiffen as he looked behind you.

That was one thing about Logan, he was extremely perceptive and quick to notice any form of danger.

“Hey bub, what can I do for you?” he said to the man behind you in a gruff tone that was not at all welcoming as he gently maneuvered you so that you stood safely behind him.

You gripped Logan’s strong bicep as you peered around his shoulder at the stalker.

“I was just-”

“Just nothin’. You better leave her alone,” Logan interrupted.

“C’mon, I was just inviting the pretty lady to have a good time. Does he speak for you?” the creep asked as he made eye contact with you. The malice in his eyes made your heartbeat spike again.

“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” you said nervously.

He glanced between you and Logan as if uncertain.

“She just told you, she’s mine- so fuck off,” Logan growled. A different kind of shiver went down your spine.

“You live here?” the man asked.

“No,” Logan growled before you could even open your mouth. “But I do, and if I see you around here again it’ll be a problem.”

The man looked at Logan and finally seemed to take in the gravity of the situation, the danger that the large muscled man protecting you could pose.

He gulped and nodded, yielded a step back as Logan took a step forward- muscles tense and fist clenched.

The man turned and scurried away. You took your first full deep breath in several long minutes.

Logan watched the man until he was completely out of view before he turned to you. He placed a large comforting hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

“Princess,” he said in a gentle voice.

He pulled you into a hug as a tear fell from your eye and made its way down your cheek. You were enveloped in his warmth and woodsy masculine scent and finally felt safe.

“Thanks for pretending to be my boyfriend,” you said as you pulled back and wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Anytime,” he said with a smirk. Your breath caught and you bit your lip as you looked up at him and saw such care and concern on his handsome face.

“Who was that guy?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Some crazy customer from earlier today, my coworker made him leave, but I guess he came back and waited until I was leaving alone….”

Logan’s brow furrowed and he gritted his teeth. “That motherfucker,” he growled, “I’m walking you to and from work tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to-”

“No, I do. And I’ll do it until I’m sure he isn’t gonna bother you anymore. And if he shows up again…” he trailed off as his claws extended from his fist in an action that seemed involuntary due to his rage.

A shiver ran down your spine. You had no idea Logan felt so protective over you.

“Thank you,” you said in a soft voice, “I appreciate it.”

This was not helping your ridiculous crush on your neighbor. From the minute he moved in with your friend Wade, you had heart eyes for him.

The Wolverine, he took your breath away without even trying. With his large stature, huge muscles, and handsome face- you were a goner. It didn’t matter that he was older, way out of your league, and generally altogether grumpy. You were head over heels for him, and you were certain he had never noticed you before, that he merely thought you were Wade’s annoying friend.

But you adored him, you adored the gentle heart you knew he buried under that gruff exterior, and displays of protectiveness such as this only proved what an amazing person you already knew he was.

“I’m headed to meet Wade at the bar, d’you wanna come?” he offered.

You nodded eagerly, not wanting to be alone after the stress of the day.

“Lead the way,” you said with a smile.

—--------

“Look who I brought,” Logan said as you walked behind him into the bar and approached a booth in the back corner.

He stepped to the side so your friends could see you. Wade, Vanessa, and Dopinder sat at the table, already laughing and drinking beer.

Wade gasped dramatically and exclaimed, “Princess Cupcake!”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips betrayed you and showed your amusement.

“Hey Wade,” you replied then greeted the others.

“What? No comeback? I’m hurt! What’s wrong?” he asked, speaking in that way too fast pattern that was his norm.

Logan placed a hand on your back and leaned down closer to your ear as he asked quietly, “You wanna sit down? I can get you a drink- what do you want?”

You smiled and sat down as you were told and told him your drink order.

Wade wiggled his non-existent eyebrows at you in a rather suggestive manner.

“What’s up between you and peanut? Did you finally fu-”

“No,” you interjected quickly.

“Wade, she’s clearly upset and Logan is helping her,” Vanessa said as she elbowed her boyfriend.

You sighed and explained the events of your afternoon. During your explanation Logan came back to the table with two drinks and sat next to you. His large form crowded you into the corner of the booth, but you didn’t mind.

“That motherfucker,” Wade said in anger at the end of your story. Vanessa gave you a look of solidarity, you knew she had experienced plenty of creepy men in her life.

“That’s what I said,” Logan replied, clearly somewhat amused.

“We should kill him,” Dopinder said.

“Calm down wannabe-vigilante,” you muttered which caused everyone to chuckle.

“Don’t worry cupcake, ole honey badger and I will make sure you’re safe,” Wade reassured.

You nodded and said, “I appreciate it, but I don’t think he’ll return. Logan can be pretty intimidating, it was amazing - I’m sure he scared him off.”

Logan grunted in agreement, although when you looked at him you could’ve sworn there was a tint of pink on his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

As the evening stretched on, you were thoroughly distracted from your troubles and amused by Wade’s antics and Dopinder’s stories.

“So, Princess Cupcake, any luck on the dating front?” Wade asked.

You tugged at the sleeves of your shirt- a nervous habit, and without looking up from the table said, “Nope.”

Logan let out a soft sigh of what your aching heart could only hope was relief.

“I’ve never asked, what’s with the nickname?” Dopinder asked.

You shrugged and gestured to Wade.

“When Blind Al and I moved into our apartment this sweetie pie here brought us cupcakes!” Wade explained.

“Good thing it was cupcakes instead of a pie because being constantly called sweetie pie would make me want to die,” you muttered and everyone laughed.

“What about the princess part though?” Dopinder asked.

“Just look at her,” Logan mumbled and you and everyone at the table looked over at him in surprise.

“She’s got that innocent sort of pretty you only see in big bright eyed animated Disney princesses,” Wade said.

Embarrassed at the attention you changed the subject immediately. Your constant filthy thoughts about Logan proved you were anything but innocent.

“But why is Logan’s nickname peanut?” you asked quickly.

Wade shrugged, “Just fits.”

Logan rolled his eyes.

You smirked and said, “I bet we could come up with a hundred nicknames for him that would fit better.”

“Like what?” Wade challenged.

You glanced over at the large handsome man sitting next to you as your face warmed.

Daddy was the first word that came to mind. Wade chuckled in a way that made you momentarily worried that mind reading was one of his mutant abilities.

The silence at the table stretched on, becoming a tad awkward, before you said, “Nevermind I’m not very good with nicknames anyways.”

“Yeah, it’s probably best to leave choosing nicknames to the professional,” Vanessa said in a joking tone to ease the tension. You shot her a look of gratitude and she winked at you before she effectively changed the subject all together.

Eventually, after enough drinks and conversation, you declared that it was time for you to go home.

“C’mon!” Wade protested. “The night has just begun!”

“I wish I could stay but I’ve got work in the morning.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Logan said in a soft but firm tone that left no room for argument as he stood and took a step back to give you room to get out of the booth.

You nodded in agreement and smiled in pleasant surprise as he offered you his arm. You wrapped your arm around his large bicep and linked your elbows as you followed him out into the cold winter air.

The city glowed in warm orange light that reflected on the wet pavement. Your breath was visible in frostbitten wind, and you shivered slightly which caused you to burrow further into your coat and move closer to Logan and the heat his body provided.

He then pulled his arm from yours, causing you to momentarily panic, but just as swiftly he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

You smiled and filled the short walk with endless chatter, you used to worry that your yapping irritated him, but the small uptick of his lips- the ghost of a smile- showed fond amusement and filled you with warmth enough to make you forget about the cold.

“What time do you leave for work in the morning?” Logan asked as you reached the door of your apartment- his apartment door only a few steps away.

“Eight o’clock,” you replied as you unlocked the door.

“But really, you don’t have to-”

“I’ll see you then,” he interrupted in a tone that indicated you would not win this argument.

Then he did something you didn’t expect at all, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your forehead.

You grinned, your smile wider than probably ever before as you said, “Goodnight Logan, see you bright and bleary eyed tomorrow.”

He chuckled as he bid you goodnight and you walked into your apartment and shut the door only after he smiled at you again before disappearing behind his own door.

You shut your door and locked it before leaning against it. You muffled your squeal of excitement with your hand- all too aware how thin the walls are. The stressful events of the day completely forgotten.

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #logan wolverine #logan x reader

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zaczenemiji · 7 months ago

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Hi there! It's me...again. Hope your doing okay.

I was thinking about a new request about Kenji Sato x Fem! Reader based on the song "Please, Please, Please" from Sabrina Carpenter. Reader is a singer just like her so and has a relationship with Ken but she thinks that some things aren't doing good, but she also has him wrapped around her finger. Like the part with "I beg you, don't embarrass me, mother******". It can be angst but also fluffy and spice (Only if you want to but no smut) It can end in a happy ending.

The rest is up to you because I know you'll do a great job. No need to rush so take your time.

Don’t Prove ‘Em Right

Kenji Sato x Singer!Reader

Word Count: 1,358

Genre/Warnings: Angst (light), Character Development, Drama, Emotional, Redemption

Author’s Note: I went with a bit of angst 🤧

MASTERLIST

“You could do better.”

This was one thing you’ve always heard since you started dating men as a singer. Throughout your career, you were either cheated on, abandoned, or used in a way that they just rode your fame.

Other times, fans would ship you with another singer or celebrity or whoever famous and you’d give it a try for them but the ending is the always same: you two were just pretending for public entertainment and there was never love at all.

Your perception of love blurred the longer you got in the singing industry. You sang about it, wrote songs about it, but you’ve never really experienced it for a significant amount of time or for a significant depth.

That was until you met Kenji.

Despite his fame, he seemed down-to-earth and genuinely interested in getting to know you. He took you to his baseball games and introduced you to his teammates. In return, you invited him to your recording sessions.

Kenji was always supportive, and always encouraging. He seemed genuinely proud of your achievements and was always there for you. Despite his busy schedule, he shows up at your gigs and concerts and cheers you on from the front row.

He had a way of making you feel special like you were the most important person in his world. It was easy to overlook the occasional outbursts, the moments of impulsiveness that seemed to come with his fiery temperament.

You told yourself that everyone had flaws, and Kenji's good qualities far outweighed his bad ones.

You believed in him and in the future you could build together. Despite the red lights and the stop signs, you held on to the belief that this time, this love was right.

But as time went on, the cracks in Kenji's facade began to show. His temper flared more frequently, and his impulsive decisions started to take a toll on your relationship.

You made excuses for him and justified his actions to your friends and family. You told them he’s different.

But they told you that with the way he’s behaving, you’ll just end up in the dumps again—that he’s going to cheat on you, hurt you, leave you, and the ending will be the same…

“You could do better.”

Heartbreak is one thing, but your ego is another. You couldn’t afford your name dominating the headlines again. And for what reason? Another breakup.

You loved him deeply, but the constant cycle of highs and lows was exhausting. You wanted to believe that he could change, that he could be the man you fell in love with.

But the more you tried to fix things, the more you realized that some things were beyond your control.

You sat in front of your vanity doing your makeup nicely. You glanced at the clock. Kenji would be here any minute to pick you up now. Tonight is your big night. It’s an afterparty to celebrate the release of your new single.

Your boyfriend had a reputation for causing a scene. It wasn't entirely his fault—he was passionate but it sometimes translated into impulsiveness. Tonight, of all nights, you needed him to be on his best behavior.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Kenji stood there, looking dashing in a tailored suit, a grin spreading across his face as he saw you.

"Wow, you look stunning," he said, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

"Thanks," you replied, forcing a smile. "You sure you wanna come?"

"Of course," he replied with a confidence that both reassured and worried you. “I’m always here for you.”

You arrived at the venue in no time. Celebrities, reporters, and fans filled the room, all eager to celebrate your success. You and Kenji mingled with the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and accepting congratulations.

But as the night went on, Kenji's behavior started to shift. The drinks were flowing, and while you had stuck to soda water, Kenji had not.

You watched with growing anxiety as he laughed a little too loudly, and gestured a little too wildly. The conversations around you started to feel like a backdrop to a ticking time bomb.

You pulled him aside. "Kenji, please," you whispered urgently. "Just... take it easy, okay?"

He frowned, a mix of confusion and irritation crossing his features. "What? I'm just having a good time."

"I know," you said, forcing another smile. “Just... for me, okay?"

He sighed but nodded and for a while, it seemed like he was keeping his promise. He stuck by your side, an arm around your waist, engaging in polite conversation with your friends and family.

However, you left him one moment and then the next, he was talking to one of the reporters. The latter walked away, a smirk on his face. Kenji turned to you, his face flushed with anger.

"Can you believe that guy?" he spat. "He had the nerve to ask about the last game. Said I sucked."

"Kenji," you said softly, trying to calm him down. You placed your hand on his chest. "It's not worth it."

"But—"

"Please, Kenji. Just... let it go."

He looked at you, the anger in his eyes slowly fading. He took a deep breath and nodded. "For you," he said quietly.

But the reprieve was short-lived. You caught sight of him at the bar, raising his voice at someone who had apparently made a snide comment.

The situation escalated quickly, and before you knew it, Kenji had thrown a punch, causing a commotion that drew everyone's attention.

Your heart sank as security rushed in to break up the fight. You could feel all eyes on you, whispers spreading through the crowd.

You felt a sense of dejà vu as this wasn't the first time Kenji let his emotions get the best of him, and you were able to hold it together as you’ve always done, but then you heard the one thing you hated.

“She could’ve done better.”

Without a word, you grabbed your things and stormed out of the venue, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over.

Not long after, Kenji arrived at your house, disheveled and remorseful. "(Y/n), I'm so sorry," he began, reaching out to you. "I didn't mean to ruin everything."

You stepped back, keeping a distance between you. "Kenji, this can't keep happening. You promised me you would behave tonight!” You said in between sobs. “This was supposed to be my night, and you turned it into a disaster.”

You sat on your couch, your legs feeling too tired to keep you up. "I can't keep making excuses for you,” you continued. “I can't keep sacrificing my career for your mistakes."

Kenji fell silent, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He’s scared. He knew what those words meant. At that moment, he felt like the sky was crashing on him.

"I don't want to lose you, (y/n)," he said quietly, tears falling down. "I love you, and I know I've been screwing up. But I'm willing to do everything to make things right. Therapy, anger management, whatever it takes."

You stared at him, your heart aching with a mix of love and doubt. "Kenji, this isn't just about tonight,” you said. “This has been happening for a while now.“

“Please, (y/n),” he begged, his voice trembling as he knelt in front of you, embracing your legs as he rested his head on your lap. “I want to be the man you deserve. Please, give me one more chance."

Over the next few weeks, Kenji followed through on his promise. He made genuine efforts to address his issues.

He went out of his way to apologize to your friends and family for his behavior at the party, taking full responsibility for his actions.

Slowly but surely, he’s coming back to being the man you fell in love with. He made sure you wouldn’t be the one doing better because he was becoming better himself.

One afternoon, you had lunch with your friends. They asked about how things are now going between you and Kenji. You gave them a smile, a genuine one since after the party.

“He became better.”

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@flowerloves @eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle

#kenji sato x reader #kenji sato #ken sato x reader #ken sato #ultraman #ultraman: rising #fanfiction #oneshot #light angst

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azen13 · 4 days ago

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CW: Yandere Themes, Stalking, Bathing Together, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Spoilers for HSR 3.0 Main Story

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

I've had some time to sit with 3.0, and so I wanted to just ramble a little bit about Yandere!Phainon! I loved him in-game and definitely hope to write about him as I get to know his character more.

He's not cruel. Far from it, his presence is like the kiss of sunlight on morning dew. Instead, he's protective to the point where he seems to bear down on you at every waking moment. You might simply be going for a walk in Marmoreal Market trying to buy some goods for dinner and you'll find yourself bumping into Phainon, his voice effulgent. But with light comes shadows, and you can feel his more possessive intentions lurking between the letters of his words. He exclaims what a wonderful coincidence this is, but you know better. A coincidence can only live for so long before it sheds its skin and reveals an artificial nature, and you can see right through every single one of Phainon's translucent excuses.

Even though he longs to wake up and fall asleep with you by his side, he does a good job of keeping the compulsion to take you home at bay for some time. His conveniently-timed coincidences allow him the opportunity to escort you from place-to-place and bask in your radiance. If he gets lucky, he can persuade you to let him accompany you to the baths. Even though it's against the rules, he enjoys bringing you to the Hero's Bath and taking his time washing your hair. His hands weave through your hair masterfully, his fingertips occasionally ghosting the skin of your shoulders. You may not let him be close to you, but he always finds a way to claim you as his own in public: a hand wrapped around your shoulders, or tousling your hair, or even reaching for your own hand. In his mind, you are a hero, the savior of a heart shattered beyond repair by countless losses. For that reason, he cannot let you go; no matter how wrong it may be in your eyes, perceptions can be easily changed, and he will do whatever it takes to show you that your life will be perfect with him. Spur, strike, scorn him as you'd like, you cannot escape his presence and power. It'd be a fool's errand to leave Okhema with the state Amphoreus is in, and Phainon isn't just some commoner with no public status who you can simply avoid. On the contrary, he has a multitude of tools at his disposal to help ensnare you in his control. And, if you still somehow fight against him, he can always plead with Aglaea for her to intertwine your fate with his.

No matter what you do, where you go, or how you fight him, Phainon will make himself the sun of your heart, pulling you into his orbit and never letting you go. Ever.

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shanastoryteller · 4 months ago

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i know spn hates good writing and also sam, but the dumpster fire of s4 really could have been salvaged if they'd just played ruby and castiel straight

by which i mean

ruby should have been one of the good guys (honestly it feels like the writers changed their minds last second regarding her anyway)

castiel should have been the villain (which, let's be clear, he totally was)

the point of this is that it would force dean to confront his own bullshit and maybe figure himself out, which not only would have been good television but would have been satisfying to me, personally

sam's problem is that he wants there to be a good equal to every evil. that he believes goodness exists even where it doesn't, that he always wants to give things a chance, that he always has hope. they sound like good traits, up until they're used against him. they reach the station of angels are bad eventually, but it should have been more immediate and visceral, that there is no greater good here. sam should have had this knocked out of him, which would have shattered him in way, to lose this thing he's depended on his whole life, but it really would have hammered home that it's choices that really do matter, not circumstances

dean's problem is always that he sees monsters as monsters with no grey area, that sam always has to play his moral center the second anything becomes complicated. then he goes to hell, breaks, tortures innocents, and an angel yanks him out and tells him that he's a righteous man

dean desperately desperately wants this to be true

because it's sam who they had to look out for, sam who was destined to go darkside, sam with the demon blood

dean doesn't have that excuse

he's just a human man with a hunger for violence who never learned to curb his appetite. who was instead pushed to gorging himself on it, who is left broken and desperate and angry by what he did to save himself. his whole life, his whole self perception for thirty years, was about protecting innocents. then he betrays that in hell. do you think he kept count? how many innocents he destroyed against how many he saved? the day it equaled out, do you think he wished he could weep?

dean is so unbelievably messed up by hell. not the torture he endured, that's barely a blip, but the torture he inflicted is what haunts him

so he needs for sam to be the bad guy

he's using his powers, he's hanging out with demons, he's drinking demon blood. he's the monster. he's inhuman

(he's using his powers and hanging out with demons and drinking demon blood and still he's doing less harm than dean, still he's trying to save people. dean can't accept this, because he can't be the rotten one. he'll forgive sam anything, but never himself, so it has to be sam. because he can fix sam, he'll always love his brother, so if he's evil there's stil a path forward there. but if it's dean? if he's the one going evil? sam's left him before. why would he stay now? if dean is the one going darkside then he loses everything. himself. his brother. it has to be sam)

dean is projecting all his own shit onto sam because he can't deal with any of it, which is why he treats sam like shit, why he treats him in a way that he's never treated him before. it's how he treats himself. and sam has no idea what to do with this, is left reeling and hurt and broken himself by dean doing this to him. sam never thought dean would leave him to die in the panic room, because dean wouldn't, not the dean he's known his whole life, not the dean that loves him. not alone.

but dean would do that to himself. and since sam is his proxy for himself, it's what he does to sam, but sam doesn't know that so all he feels is the weight of betrayal and grief and rage

isn't it funny, almost? the demons brought sam back just as he was, exactly the same. the angels bring back dean but he's not the same. dean comes back wrong, comes back different. but no one wants to say that. to deal with it

having ruby be evil and castiel venerated justifies all of dean's spiraling, all of his punishment. he was right all along, sam was the problem, don't you see?

boring

ruby stays loyal to sam, a demon who chooses something different, who chooses the boy with the demon blood because there's something compelling about sam winchester, as tempting as the apple before eve, and ruby didn't get where she is by knowing better

(remember when sam pulled all the psychic kids together, acted as leader, and resisted azazel? there is a leader in sam, a compassion in him, that azazel had to cheat in order to beat. and if ruby can show him how to win against demons then-)

castiel let sam out of the panic room. he's following orders, because that's his job, and damn the consequences. this should have been seen as the act of betrayal and evil that it was, castiel proving he was never really on their side at all, never on the side of preventing harm. it also would have made his redemption arc mean something, it would have given castiel a lot more to work with if they'd had to really bring him back over

ruby realizes too late what killing lilith means. tries to stop sam, but now that she's here it's too late, kill or be killed. sam accepts that, is willing to die rather than start the apocalypse. but then dean is there, and he can't watch his brother die again, he just can't. so he kills lilith to save dean, when he would have been willing to die himself

ruby gets them out of there. they discover what castiel did, that he pushed forward the apocalypse rather than prevented it

this breaks dean. he finally snaps, but it's good, because everything he'd used to shore himself up before had been terrible and rotted and corrosive

a righteous man is not a good man. dean is forced to confront everything he's done in hell, and after he'd gotten back, everything he put sam through, how he left him in that panic room and almost killed him, how he's treated him for the past year. how it was a demon who tried to help in the end and an angel that damned them

and how sam saved him anyway, damn the consequences

we should have returned to what the show had been building up to from the beginning - that sam loves his brother enough to do terrible things and dean has no idea how to deal with that

so we've got sam and dean on the run with ruby, castiel's slower and much juicier redemption arc, and dean having to pick up the pieces of himself while sam tries to figure out how he gets them out this mess. and sam's guilt is justified here, his aching sense of responsibility, because this time he kills lilith knowing it'll free lucifer. he makes that choice, for dean. and he's determined to fix it

just. demon blood tainted sam and turncoat ruby trying to save the world. the angels trying to end it. all while dean finally accepts the crushing guilt of what he's done and starts to work through it, starts to work on becoming the brother sam lost, on once more being the steady thing sam can hold onto no matter what it takes, because sam choosing him reminds him of something he'd told himself he forgot

he doesn't want to be a righteous man, a torturer, a demon, a victim, a martyr

he just wants to be sam's brother. the one he looks up to, depends on, loves

he wants what he's always wanted

to feel worthy of his little brother's affection

#i have a lot of feelings about how s4 tried and failed to make everything sam's fault #sorry you've spent so long establishing the inherent goodness of this character that now the whole 'maybe he's evil' thing is just cringey #also dean i'm so sorry with what they did to you #you deserved better #supernatural

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sorchathered · 8 months ago

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It would’ve been you

Pairing- Bob Floyd x female reader

Summary- you’d finally admitted your feelings to Bob, the only problem? He doesn’t remember any of it, and now he’s got a new girlfriend.

Warnings- angst, a little bit of smut, Bob being a dummy, reader also being a dummy.

A/N- Hey babies! Let’s celebrate me finally getting back to the states with a new fic I wrote (one of three) on my 14 hour flight last night, not beta read, fuck it we ball. 😂😂

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Bob’s new girlfriend was awful.

No really she was. Natasha had been sending you emails for weeks about how bad things had become, and until you’d stepped back on shore you had scarcely believed it yourself.

It had been twelve weeks since you left for your special detachment. Twelve weeks since you drunkenly fell into bed with your best friend Robert Floyd.

You’d had a party at you and your roommate Natasha’s, sort of a “good luck hope you don’t die” drunk fest as your front seater Jake Seresin liked to call it. Too many drinks were had and inhibitions were pretty much non existent by the end of the night, Bob offering to help you clean up which resulted in drunken confessions of love and hands roaming bodies until the early morning hours.

It has been perfect, messy, but perfect. You’d scarcely hoped he felt the same and had been holding a candle for him for an embarrassingly long time. When you woke that morning you were in a lavender haze of ooey gooey feels, sneaking out of your room to shower and pack your things as you thought about what might be in the future for the two of you when you made it back from the mission.

But when Bob woke up with the hangover of the century and didn’t remember a single bit of the night before? Everything went to shit. You were too embarrassed to tell him the truth, if he didn’t remember then maybe it didn’t mean what you thought it had meant, and maybe he hadn’t been ready to cross that line with you after all. So you bottled it all up, pushing forward with the mission and kept contact to a minimum. He never said it but he knew something was off, you never missed an email when he wrote and lately you’d all but ignored him entirely.

About 6 weeks into your deployment, Nat hit you with a bomb you never expected- Bob had started seeing someone. You let it all out in your bunk, cried until your tears could have floated the carrier you were on and then some. You should have said something, you knew that now, and it was too little too late.

When you made it back Nat was bursting at the seams to give you all the gossip, you weren’t ready to hear it but she was quite literally bouncing on her toes to give you the tea so you settled in after a shower and let her blab.

“She’s awful y/n!!! Some wannabe instagram influencer who is on her phone constantly and oh my god she is rude!! She puts on this sweet little angel vibe for Bob but as soon as he leaves the room she’s like Cruella de Vil with blonde hair. I’m totally convinced she only wants to be with him for the military girlfriend vibes, she posts all these pictures of them together and tags them with little stupid hashtags about how she’s a military girlfriend and blah blah blah.” She says with a scowl as she pretends to fake wretch and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Is he happy with her?” You ask quietly, too afraid to look in her eyes, she’s too perceptive for her own good though; she’s known something changed between the two of you but hadn’t been able to place it.

“Honestly? He looks miserable, he hasn’t seemed like himself since you blew out of the house the morning of your deployment without so much as a goodbye. I don’t know what happened and I won’t ask, but I think you two need to talk. He misses you.” She took your hand in hers and gave you a kind smile, she was a bulldog in her field but she was the kindest soul you’d ever met. “I miss him too Natty, I really do.”

Bob had really liked Lauren in the beginning, she seemed like such a sweet girl, her socials full of pictures of her rescuing dogs and going on adventures, he could really see a future for them. But then she started only wanting to hang out when he was at the bar with his navy friends, always on her phone posting pictures of him in uniform, and bragging on her tiktok about being a Navy pilot’s girlfriend when that wasn’t even really what he did and she never seemed to listen enough to actually care about getting to know him for who he was. It had become exhausting, and he couldn’t talk to the person he wanted to the most because it felt like you’d completely ghosted him over the past few weeks. Bob was at a loss, he didn’t know what had changed between the two of you but as soon as Natasha announced to the group chat everyone was going to dinner to celebrate you and Hangman making it home he only had one thing on his mind- corner you and find out what the hell he’d done to piss you off.

When he got to the Hard Deck that night everyone was already in full party mode, drinks and pizzas littered the back wall of the bar as everyone danced along to Rooster’s rendition of “Benny and the Jets” on the piano, you perched right by his side singing the harmony and bursting into giggles as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You were breathtaking, you always had been to Bob but he’d never had the courage to tell you how he felt, always burying it when the feelings bubbled up in his chest. He was glad he hadn’t brought Lauren with him, he couldn’t clear the air between the two of you with her around, and honestly he was still wondering if he even wanted to continue a relationship with her in the first place. He would unpack all of that later, the song had ended and you’d noticed he was staring at you, your skin flushing bright red at his gaze.

You knew he’d be here, but even after weeks away you weren’t sure you were ready to face him. Did he remember what happened? Did it change anything? It certainly had to you, how could it not? You’d admitted your deepest feelings for him and then had the best sex of your life, only for him to completely forget it ever happened. It was devastating, but there wasn’t any way to avoid him so better to just rip the bandaid off now and get it over with. You sat your empty beer down on a nearby table and made your way to where he was perched at the bar, ginger ale and peanuts occupying his hands as he looked you over with a nervous smile.

“Hey.” Oh god really? Hey? That’s all you could come up with? You cringed internally at the waver in your tone, you can be held responsible for millions of dollars of military tech but Bob Floyd is somehow the Achilles heel in your confidence? Jesus.

“Hi” he said softly and smiled back at you, “we’ve missed you around here, you didn’t answer any of my letters and I was starting to get worried about ya.” He fiddled with the top of the plastic cup holding the peanuts and tried to look anywhere but in your eyes, this was already the most awkward conversation he’d ever had and that was saying something for him.

“Look, Bob I don’t want to prolong this but I get it ok? We all do stupid things when we’re drunk and I won’t hold it against you. I heard you have a new girlfriend and I’ll respect that, I just…I need some time. I meant every word of what I said to you that night and if you just said it back to be kind-“

“Whoa hold on a minute, what are you talking about honey?” He thrust a hand out to catch yours and watched horror cross your face, what the hell had he done?!

“Oh-oh my god. You still don’t remember. Fuck, I- I’m sorry Bob I can’t do this right now.” You all but ran from him towards the back door and out into the night, you were fairly certain you were going to throw up or pass out. Maybe both.

Bob’s head was swimming, he stood up to follow you and had a moment flash behind his eyes. You beneath him, arms around his neck as the two of you ground into each other in your bed. He’d thought that had been a dream…it had been…right? The more he tried to think of it the more the memories came back, watching you come undone beneath him as you cried out your love for him, his hands tangled in your hair as he made the same confession. Natasha came up behind his rigid form to press a hand to his shoulder and he jerked back with a gasp, deep blue eyes wild and filled with panic. “Hey, whoah! Easy Bob, what’s going on?” She put both hands on his biceps as if to steady him but it couldn’t stop the room from spinning.

I-I’ve gotta get outta here Phoenix, did you see where y/n went? I royally screwed things up I have to see if I can fix it before it’s too late.”

She pointed towards the back door and he was bolting for it before she could say anything else, he couldn’t believe how much of a fool he’d been.

You were crouched in the sand a hundred feet or so from the bar, gasping in deep breaths as tears clouded your vision, head in your hands and body shaking. You should have just said something the morning after it happened, why didn’t you just tell him then? He still didn’t remember and if he didn’t remember then it must’ve not meant anything to him, now he was with someone else and your chance had all but evaporated. Had you completely lost him now? You didn’t know if you could bear not having him in your life, even if he wasn’t in love with you, losing your closest friend would be too much to bear.

“Y/n?” You heard him say softly behind you, he had always had an uncanny ability to sneak up on people and you supposed you should’ve known he’d come. He was the kindest person you knew, even if something made him uncomfortable he still worried about others. Selfless.

You swiped the tears away as best as you could before you stood and looked at him but it was no use, the second you locked eyes the tears were back.

“Robby, fuck I’m so sorry. I should’ve brought it up the morning after it happened but I-“

“I didn’t remember. And you thought it best to leave it be.”

“Y-yes” you said shakily, and you saw anger flash across his handsome features, a look you weren’t used to seeing from your beloved WSO.

“Damnit y/n! All that time wasted! If-if I’d’ve just known-“ he was shaking his head in frustration and you realized with a shock that he may not have remembered- but he meant what he said.

“Wait- wait, are you saying you meant it?” You said with a whisper, Bob looking at you incredulously like you’d grown three heads or something ridiculous.

“Is that what you’re worried about? That I didn’t… Jesus of course I meant it! How could I not? I think I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you and I feel cheated now! I’ve had you in my arms, kissed you, made love to you and I don’t remember it, but the worst part is knowing that you kept this from me. We could’ve been together this whole time! I’ve been pissing my time away with a girl who couldn’t give a rats ass about me and you’ve been right here all along.”

You were so sure he’d said it in a drunken mistake, braced for the worst that it wasn’t registering that he was telling you everything you wanted to hear, tears still spilling from your eyes as you blinked up at him, and a sound of frustration escaped his mouth as he yanked you into his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead and cheeks, and you melted into him as it finally settled in that this was real.

He took your face in his hands as he tipped your head up to look at him, swiping the tears away with his thumbs while you tried to bring yourself back down from the meltdown.

“Damnit girl it’s always been you, I don’t know how you could’ve thought otherwise.”

You laughed out at your stupidity and leaned up into him as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Now listen, I want to do this right, so before I let myself drown in you like I want I have something I need to do. Stay right here, wait for me.” He kissed you again and released you, already missing his warmth you let out a whine.

He chuckled and swiped a loose curl behind your ear, “in order to make love to you like I want, I have to speak to Lauren. I want a clean slate for us baby, give me a few minutes and I promise after this I’m yours until you’re sick of me.”

“Never gonna happen” you said with a grin and he mirrored you with a brilliant smile of his own.

He had a renewed confidence he hadn’t felt in months as he made his way back inside to get his phone, passing Hangman by the dart board with his arm braced against the wall and a very familiar blonde haired woman shamelessly flirting with him.

Doing a double take he confirmed with a laugh that is was in fact his girlfriend trying to shoot her shot with Jake Seresin and oddly enough it didn’t even surprise him.

“Hey Seresin, glad to see your back.” He said with a smack on the golden haired aviators back, Jake cocking his head to the side with a smirk.

��Baby on Board! Good to see ya, glad to be back home. This is- uhh I’m sorry sugar I don’t know that I got your name” he said gesturing towards the girl and she looked at Bob like a deer in headlights.

“Lauren, her name is Lauren. By the way, whatever was going on with you and me? It’s over sweet pea. I think you two will be very happy together, you like TikTok right Hangman? She’s real big into all that influencer shit. Anyways, you two have a good night, I’ve got somewhere else to be.” He said as he walked off winking at Natasha as she cackled from her perch near the group.

He bounded out into the sand to find you right where he let you, lighter than air as he looped an arm around your waist and pulled you in to kiss you like he’d wanted. You gasped into his mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip and slid his tongue into your mouth to taste you. It was perfect, all your little sweet noises as you grasped at his collar and rubbed your body against his.

“Robby” you gasped out as his lips drifted down your jaw and to your neck and he felt lightheaded over all of it. “What’s on your mind baby” he said as he smiled against your skin and you shivered in his arms. “Take me home? I think- I think we need a do over. Want you so bad.” He couldn’t think of anything better, tossing you over his shoulders as you shrieked and giggled he carried you to the parking lot and placed you gently in the passenger seat of his old beat up truck.

“Let’s get you home sugar, we’ve got a lot of time to make up for, hope you weren’t planning on sleepin’ tonight, I don’t know that I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself.”

You all but crawled into his lap in the bench seat as you ran your hands through his sandy blonde hair,

“I love you. Don’t you dare keep your hands to yourself, want you to love on me until we can’t move anymore, take me home and make me yours.”

And he did. Six months later when he put a ring on your finger it was a surprise to absolutely no one, he’d always pick on you for hiding the truth and you’d never let him live it down that he had forgotten making love to you in the first place. It seemed so silly now looking back on it, knowing you two were meant to be. He’d always been the one, and now he always would be.

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🏷️ tagging people who might be interested- @attapullman @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @roosterforme @seitmai @jessicab1991 @sebsxphia @fandom-princess-forevermore @nerdgirljen @lenafromthenordiccoven @sio-ina-bottle @sunsetsimpsblog @auroralightsthesky

If I missed anyone I’m sorry I’m running on three hours of sleep 😭

#top gun maverick #bob floyd #top gun maverick fanfiction #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd smut

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theriverbeyond · 8 months ago

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Ok so a part of the NtN epilogue that has always bugged me is how Alecto very specifically doesn't know who Harrow is until she bites kisses her and tastes her blood

Which on its own wouldn't necessarily mean much, except that Harrow is shown repeatedly to look almost exactly like Anastasia, and Alecto-in-her-aspect-as-Nona is shown to be very observant and aware of physical features. It's not, like, a vision issue, after waking up Alecto immediately recognizes Pyrrha, and knows the general features of Harrow i.e. "black-eyed infant". And in her aspect as Nona, she is keenly observant of physical features. She waxes poetic about all the little ways Honesty and Pyrrha's red hair differs from Kiriona's, and more than that, she immediately recognizes Kiriona's corpse as the girl from her dream. So why doesn't she recognize Harrow?

The other Lyctors recognize Harrow. The first thing Augustine says upon meeting her is: "Harrowhark the First—ninth saint, then, looking at you I can tell that’s appropriate", and then in the same scene he calls her "Anastasia come again." Mercymorn insults her ("You're not as pretty as Anastasia") but in that insult, she again emphasizes the physical similarity between Harrow and Anastasia. These statements are way more significant when you remember in this scene, Harrow has just woken up after travel through the River, and is still wearing a hospital gown. no black vestments, no Ninth Aesthetics, the only things really "Ninth" about her are her physical features.

And the first thing Alecto does after she realizes that Harrow is Anastasia's blood is to apologize about Samael and reiterate her "vow", which she specifically did not remember until after she remembered Anastasia.

So like. What does this mean? I cannot help but have a feeling that this relates to blood wards being broken by the blood of a relative, the Ninth House being the House of the Sewn Tongue, and the established fact that necromancy can fuck with memory and perception. I guess I had always assumed the original "sewn tongue" referred to Anastasia but like what if it referred to Alecto? And the established blood ward (the Tomb) could only be spoofed by a close relative (because John wouldn't program it to let anyone but himself in), but theoretically what is stopping Anastasia from whipping up a theorem for a blood ward that simply requires any kind of direct genetic link? Why would Alecto have forgotten her vows, how does this relate to Samael, why was she swearing allegiance to Anastasia? If she was made to forget because that vow was a secret, who was it kept secret from (John, presumably), and why, and how will this impact Alecto's motivations and actions in the next book? John seemed happy/relieved to see Alecto when she woke him up via sword-to-the-chest, but the Alecto he put to sleep (presumably) didn't remember her vows to Anastasia, and the Alecto who stabs him does, and what could this mean? How does this all connect to Anastasia's bones being nestled by the Rock on the inside of the tomb? Did Anastasia have a long term plan, or was she just hoping that the next time Alecto woke up that things would be Different? What could she possibly have hoped or assumed would have changed in that interim time? How does this connect to Alecto calling out for Anastasia right before John leads her into the Tomb? What HAPPENED between Anastasia and Alecto, and John, and Samael, and—(I am pulled off stage with a large hook)

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth #alecto #alectoanastasia #tlt meta #trb.txt #tlt thoughts #SAVE ME ALECTOANASTASIA SAVE ME......#has anyone posted about this before and i missed it. does anyone have thoughts. im going insane

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its-cartooncrazy · 15 days ago

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[Image description: a list of all tarot cards in the major arcana, along with their meanings. They have been matched to a vessel from slay the princess, using the drawings from the memories page. Full text ID under the cut.]

Hello I spent like a week being abnormal about this (no I did not know the tarot cards by heart before this, yes I do now) so here is my definitive list of which princess matches which tarot card. If you disagree with me then you're wrong (joking, please feel free to tell me with your reasoning, I'd love to hear it!!)

Full list of my reasonings under the cut (scroll to the big text saying "Reasonings" to skip the ID)

[Full ID: three columns, listing first the tarot number and name, then card meanings, then the princess. They are as follows:

0. The Fool. cycle of life, birth & death, hope, optimism, childish, spontaneous, lateral thinking. The Damsel

1. The Magician. practical, success, witty, at home, central nervous system & lungs & senses, unemotional, over analyses. The Moment of Clarity

2. The High Priestess. heightened perception, unknown, mystery, occult, patience, intuition, strong independent woman, unable to control or dominate. The Wraith

3. The Empress. powerful women, creativity, growth, beauty, birth, fertility, warm, loving, sensual, enjoys life to the full. The Adversary

4. The Emperor. structure & power, competitive, achievement, authority, hierarchy, dominance. The Tower

5. The Hierophant. status quo, appearances, marriage, teaching, interpreting, structure, routine. Happily Ever After

6. The Lovers. love, romance, union, soulmates, resolved inner conflict, choice. The Wild

7. The Chariot. reward, victory hard won, don’t give up, try again, vehicles, overcoming obstacles, self discipline, hard work, focus. The Beast

8. Justice. logical decision, balanced mind, negotiation, truth, honesty, integrity. The Spectre

9. The Hermit. Solitude, thinking, introspection, learning, teaching. The Prisoner

10. The Wheel of Fortune. Fate, coincidence, luck, cycles, confusion. The Stranger

11. Strength. generous, loving, courage, conviction, optimism, resolve, generous, antagonism resolved, animals (loving). The Den

12. The Hanged Man. unable to move, temporary pause, patience, self limiting, trapped, sacrifice, wait for info. The Cage

13. Death. cycle of death & rebirth, transformation, something is ending, confronting smth alarming, major change. The Eye of the Needle

14. Temperance. balanced, adaptable, see both sides, calm, solve disputes, works well in a team, mixing opposites, blending, time. The Princess and the Dragon

15. The Devil. material world, buying love, material security, mental health, powerlessness, violence, obsession, secrecy. The Witch

16. The Tower. disruptive, violent, necessary change, enlightenment, trauma, loss, upheaval, tragedy. The Fury

17. The Star. hope, new life, fresh insight, phys or ment wounds heal, heal & inspire others, help, human rights, nature, equality. The Thorn

18. The Moon. dreams, imagination, subconscious, illusion, vagueness, deception, fear, anxiety. The Nightmare

19. The Sun. happiness & vitality, energy, confidence, children, freedom, fun, self expression. The Razor

20. Judgement. decisions, awakening, rebirth, healing, homesickness, celebrate success, self evaluation, blame. The Grey

21. The World. end of a cycle, accomplishment, journey, belonging, wholeness. The Apotheosis

End ID]

Reasonings

The Fool I put the damsel down for pretty early, just because of the childish optimism, but later I was thinking about the damsel route and why it wouldn't fit the Lovers and I said the damsel is more about how they are rushing into it. And then I remembered the Fool is about rushing in lol. I couldn't really consider anything else after that

The Magician mentions the central nervous system and lungs, so I considered putting the nightmare here for paranoids mantra, but the card didn't really fit her that well and the central nervous system is different to the autonomous nervous system anyway so. The Moment of Clarity gets this spot for her practical breaking of you, and the success it brings her. Not one of my easiest placements but I'm still pretty happy with it

The high Priestess was hard to place because she's about the occult, and powerful women who don't need a man. If only there was a princess who fit that mold... (/s if it wasn't clear) so yeah. Half the princesses were written down here at one point. The Wraith gets this spot because I found other places for all the others I guess and also because "She could not find her strength in others, so she found it in herself."

The empress is again a powerful woman, but a loving and nurturing one, who encourages growth. It was both the growth and the partnership she has that gave her the adversary

The Emperor is about hierarchy and dominance. I knew very early on that the tower would fit best here. "This one is dominance."

The hierophant is about structure, appearances, and also marriage. Happily Ever After is all about being trapped within this structure, with ties specifically to marriage. Literally tell me I'm wrong?

The Lovers. Okay. So there's a few this could be. The Damsel, with the voice of the smitten? Not really as equal a partnership, as I mentioned in the Fool section. They don't really know each other. The Thorn, where you can kiss her? Well that ignores like. The entire rest of the route so no. Happily ever after? Maybe, but I prefer her in hierophant. The adversary, with your equal partnership in kicking each others asses? Easily, but I also put her elsewhere. Ironically, the Lovers was one of the last two cards I placed, and the only princesses left were the wild and the grey, and unfortunately I couldn't agree with the drowned grey going here. The wild has you literally being one, achieving a common goal. It's not my favourite placement but I dont hate it so.

The chariot is about putting in the hard work and seeing it through, and she does make an effort to capture you (swallow you whole) and bring you to the door so she can escape. Also it's about vehicles, and she literally acts as a vehicle for you. That idea was too funny to not do tbh

Justice is one of three cards that mention balance, so I wanted one of the ones where you merge to go here. Much like the scales of justice, it is about considering all sides and picking fairly, so it had to go to the spectre, who gets justice for her murder when you help her out. The spectre was written down for like half the cards on this list though my god

The hermit is about solitude and self introspection. The prisoner, sitting in silence for millenia, felt very fitting. I also wanted the cage to be here, because the image of the hermit is him holding up a lantern, and having the cage holding her head like that would be fun, but she fit better in the hanged man so.

The wheel of fortune was one of my later picks. Fate, and also cycles. Its a little vague, and can fit with quite a few princesses, but I put the stranger here. Is it the vibes? Something about coincidences and not meeting her feels similar, but I cant put my finger on it so if you can explain please do.

Strength, but of the inner sort. The Den didn't really have anywhere better to go, I don't know if instinct matches with any of the cards. I felt confidence in ones self was pretty similar to instinct, plus it has ties to animals.

The hanged man is self restrictions. I would have liked to put the thorn here, honestly, hanging from her vines. Ultimately it was the best choice for the cage, though, and I had another good option for the thorn. Anyway, the cage can be hanging from all those chains and hooks. "This one is a body that convinced herself she was only a set of eyes." Sounds like her limits are self imposed for sure!

Death and the tower have similar meanings in that things are coming to an end, and both of them I felt were good fits for both eye of the needle and the Fury. Ultimately I put eotn here because its more cyclical, and when she was the adversary she wanted to continue fighting over and over again.

Temperance is the second balance card, specifically about blending this time. Opposites merging, solving disputes. Felt very much like the princess and the dragon chapter. "This one is perspectives bleeding into one."

The Devil is a person tricking you, but also material security. I only ever put the witch down for this one, and I only ever put her down for one card lol. The mutual trickery and betrayal in her chapter felt too fitting. "A trick behind your back, and a trick behind mine."

The tower, like I said, is similar to death in that they are both about things ending. But the tower is more dramatic, about the sudden upheaval, so I thought thematically it matched with the Fury better, who is very upset and very taking it out on you. This is one of the cards I knew the meaning of from the beginning, so unfortunately there was never a point in which the tower was matched with the tower :(

The star is hope and healing. One of many that the spectre could have matched with. (I wanted to make her star shaped wound be the star... oh well). The Thorn fits well here, if you both choose to end the cycle of violence and leave together. The star also has ties to nature, which fits with the thorns... thorns... I would have preferred her at the hanged man for her self limiting, being trapped in her own thorns, but this is also a very good choice so I'm not too mad lol

The moon is fear and anxiety. Plus the moon only comes out at night, when everyone is sleeping, when you have nightmares! But mostly it's the vagueness, mystery and anxiety stuff.

The sun being joy meant I knew I wanted the razor here from the beginning. I briefly considered putting her at death (for the cycles, and also the uh, death) but I think the dying part of her route is not actually that important? Anyway the razor is my wife and I'm glad she's enjoying herself. "She is cruelty. But she is also joy." See, shifty gets it!

Judgement is where you look back on everything and judge yourself. It was one of the last two cards to be assigned, and the wild did not fit here at all. Plus the grey sort of punishes you for your actions? It's unavoidable, is my point.

The world is accomplishment, wholeness. She is as close to becoming the goddess she truly is as any vessel ever comes. "This one sits at the cusp of awakening." Shifty says. Also Apotheosis literally means climax so I had to put her at the end of the tarot, you understand.

So yeah that's that. Thanks for reading, if you managed to get through all that. Feel free to debate different interpretations at me, I'd love to hear em!

#slay the princess #straight up dont know what to tag this as #tarot #i guess i mean i did literally interpet all the cards #i am not going to tag all the princesses

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dixons-sunshine · 6 months ago

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“You're staring again.”

The voice of your closest friend snapped your attention back to reality. Michonne laughed as your wide eyes stared at her, embarrassment at being caught—for the hundredth time, but that was a discussion for another day—staring at the handsome, rugged archer. You wouldn't admit it to anyone but yourself, but watching the younger Dixon work on his bike was probably your favourite pastime. You could watch him and never get bored.

Michonne knew about that little fact, and she loved to annoy you about it whenever she could.

You scoffed and avoided her knowing gaze and teasing smirk. “I wasn't staring,” you mumbled out in a weak attempt to defend yourself, but to no avail. You had been caught.

Michonne chuckled and shook her head. “Yeah, so that drool on your face came from the fact that you were daydreaming about riding Daryl's bike and not Daryl himself, right?”

You almost choked on air at your friend's bluntness. “Michonne!” you hissed through your teeth. However, your “scolding” was met with more laughter.

“No, you're right, I'm sorry.” You breathed a sigh of relief. However, your relief was short-lived, because Michonne had something else to say. “You were daydreaming about riding Daryl on his bike, weren't you?”

“Michonne!” you exclaimed in embarrassment.

Michonne almost doubled over in laughter. “I'm sorry!” she managed through her laughing fit. “But it's true! Hell, you told me once you wondered if he'd be able to bench press you.”

You glared at her, but there was no real heat behind it. You could never really be mad at your friend. “Need I remind you that I said that while I had more than half a bottle of whiskey in my system? Almost a year ago?”

“Yup, and you still haven't made a move yet,” Michonne pointed out. “I think you should just kiss him and get the it out of your system.”

“Kiss who?”

The sound of Daryl's voice startled both you and Michonne. You turned to look at him, trying to shield your embarrassment from his perceptive gaze. “Daryl! Hi,” you squeaked out.

Daryl's eyes trailed over your face thoughtfully, clearly in an attempt to decipher why you were being so fidgety around him all of a sudden, but he made no comment on it. “Hey, Sunshine.” He sent Michonne a respectful nod in greeting. “Wha' were y'all talkin' 'bout?”

“Oh, nothing,” Michonne told him, sending you a mischievous smile. “Say, Daryl, you're a pretty strong guy, right?”

Daryl shrugged nonchalantly. “Wouldn't call myself weak, so I guess so, yeah.”

“Do you think you'd be able to bench press Y/N?”

Daryl's eyes widened at her question. He ducked his head in an attempt to hide the blush forming on his face. “I—I dun'—um—”

“Michonne!” you exclaimed in embarrassment. “Can you not?”

Michonne smirked and shrugged. “What? I thought you wanted to know.”

“Goodbye, Michonne!” For added emphasis, you lightly pushed her away, hoping she'd get the memo.

Michonne laughed and, thankfully, walked off. “Use protection, you crazy kids.”

When Michonne disappeared, you slowly turned back to Daryl. The archer was awkwardly fidgeting with his hands, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “I'm so sorry about her,” you apologized quietly.

Daryl shrugged, his cerulean eyes flickering up to meet your own eyes. “S'alrigh',” he mumbled. Then, unexpectedly, even for him, he added, “I prolly could. Bench press ya, I mean. M'willin' to test tha' theory.”

Your breath hitched at his words. You cleared your throat and shrugged. “That's good to know.” In an attempt to change the conversation, you motioned towards his bike. “Almost fixed?”

Daryl nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. 'Bout 'nother hour or so and it'll be runnin' smoothly again.” Taking a deep breath, Daryl prepared himself for the question he was about to ask you. “I was thinkin' 'bout takin' it out for a test drive after this, jus' to be sure. Do ya, um... Do ya maybe wanna come with me? We can swing by tha' lake ya like so much.”

You smiled at him and nodded, your heart fluttering in your chest. “Yeah, okay. It's a date,” you told him, not even fully comprehending what you had just said.

Daryl didn't correct you. He definitely liked the sound of that. “I'll come get ya when s'ready?”

“Okay. I'll be ready.”

426 notes · View notes

tulipatheticee · 6 months ago

Note

Hi! I had an idea of Eloise x fem reader, reader being Queen Charlotte’s daughter. They get caught together, and readers mother suggests marriage. With that Eloise and reader start the acceptance of the same sex love/marriage.

love story e.b

eloise bridgerton x queen charlottes daughter! reader

synopsis; In the heart of Regency London, Princess Y/N, daughter of Queen Charlotte, and Eloise Bridgerton find themselves entangled in a clandestine romance amidst the glittering balls and gossip of high society. Their love defies conventions and faces scrutiny, ultimately prompting Queen Charlotte to propose a marriage that could change society's perception of same-sex love forever.

word count; 5.3k

master list

a/n; i went a little ham on this one, i was not joking when i said wlw unlocks something inside of me

as always, kinda proof read, kinda not :p

So I sneak out to the garden to see you

We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew

So close your eyes

Escape this town for a little while, oh oh

In the bustling midst of London’s social season, Queen Charlotte's daughter, Princess y/n, found herself at the centre of attention. Raised amidst the pomp and protocol of high society, she was no stranger to the expectations placed upon her. Attending debutante events was simply another facet of her role as the queen's daughter—a duty performed with grace and an impeccably polished facade.

It was at one such event, a gathering of debutantes adorned in their finest, where y/n first noticed her. Eloise Bridgerton, amidst the sea of hopefuls vying for attention, stood out not just for her striking beauty but for an air of defiance that seemed to hover around her like an invisible shield. Eloise, with her quick wit and sharp tongue, had garnered a reputation as the most outspoken and unconventional of the Bridgerton siblings—a title she wore proudly, much to her mother Violet's simultaneous exasperation and admiration.

From across the room, y/n observed as Eloise engaged in animated conversation with other debutantes. There was a sparkle in her eye and a hint of mischief in her smile that drew y/n's attention irresistibly. Eloise's laughter, free and unbridled, cut through the polite chatter of the event like a breath of fresh air in a stuffy room. For a moment, y/n found herself captivated, her gaze lingering longer than was strictly polite.

Meanwhile, Eloise, amidst the whirl of introductions and compliments, couldn't help but notice the queen's daughter. Elegant and composed, y/n exuded a quiet confidence that commanded attention without demanding it. Unlike the other debutantes who fluttered around Eloise, y/n stood apart, observing with an intensity that hinted at a keen intellect beneath her composed exterior.

Their eyes met briefly across the room—a fleeting moment charged with unspoken curiosity and intrigue. It was a simple exchange, unnoticed by the swirling crowd around them but leaving an indelible impression on both Eloise and y/n. In that brief encounter, something stirred, a silent recognition that hinted at possibilities yet unexplored.

The grand presentation at the Palace was a spectacle to behold. The ballroom was adorned with glittering chandeliers and opulent decorations, filled with the crème de la crème of London society. Eloise stood in line, fidgeting with her gloves as she prepared to be introduced. Her mother gave her a reassuring smile.

“Stand tall, Eloise,” Violet whispered. “This is your moment.”

As Eloise stepped forward, she caught a clearer sight of Princess Y/N, standing beside her mother. Their eyes met once again across the room, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Y/N’s gaze was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the intimidating grandeur of the palace. Eloise felt an inexplicable pull towards her, something she couldn’t quite understand.

Just as Eloise was about to be presented, the attention of the room shifted abruptly. The queens guards charging through the doors, whispers of “Lady Whistledown '' spread like wildfire, next thing you know, the queen is declaring she's seen enough and everyone is dismissed and Eloise found herself relieved of the spotlight as gossip overtook the ceremony. The mysterious writer had once again stolen the show, and Eloise couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the diversion.

'Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter

And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet"

But you were everything to me

I was beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said

The opulent ballroom of Lady Danbury's estate shimmered with the flicker of candlelight and the murmur of polite conversation. Eloise Bridgerton, dressed in an exquisite gown of deep emerald silk that Lady Danbury had insisted upon, moved gracefully amidst the crowd, her gaze sweeping over the assembly of London's elite.

The event was a dazzling affair, attended by the highest echelons of society, each guest meticulously adorned in their finest attire. Yet amidst the glittering array of guests, Eloise's eyes sought out a familiar figure—Princess y/n, who stood with Queen Charlotte, radiating an air of quiet elegance that set her apart from the throng of debutantes.

Eloise couldn't deny the flutter of anticipation in her chest as she made her way towards y/n, navigating the maze of guests with practiced ease. Her heart raced with a mixture of nerves and excitement, unsure of how their conversation at Queen Charlotte's debutante event would influence their interaction tonight.

Meanwhile, y/n observed the revelry with a regal composure, her gaze occasionally drifting towards Eloise amidst the swirl of dancers and the lilting strains of the orchestra. The princess was acutely aware of the scrutiny she faced as Queen Charlotte’s daughter—the expectations of duty and decorum that shadowed her every move. Yet amidst the splendour of the ballroom, y/n found herself drawn to Eloise’s spirited presence and unguarded authenticity.

Violet Bridgerton, determined to secure another diamond among her brood, guided Eloise through the throng of guests towards the queen and y/n. Eloise, begrudgingly adorned in an elegant gown befitting her station, maintained a facade of polite disinterest as Violet introduced her to the queen and her daughter.

"Your Majestys, may I present my daughter, Eloise Bridgerton," Violet announced with practised grace.

Y/n, acknowledging the introduction with a nod, offered a polite smile that barely concealed her curiosity. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bridgerton," she greeted eloquently, her voice carrying a warmth that belied her royal stature.

Eloise, though outwardly composed, felt a rush of nerves mingled with an unexpected flutter of excitement. She had anticipated the formality of the introduction, yet y/n's presence seemed to alter the air around her, making her acutely aware of every gesture and fleeting expression.

"Likewise, Your Highness," Eloise replied with a hint of her trademark wit, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Though I must admit, I am more accustomed to lively debates than royal audiences."

Y/n's smile widened subtly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "I look forward to those debates, Miss Bridgerton," she replied in kind, a gentle challenge underlying her words.

The exchange, though brief, left an impression on both women. For Eloise, accustomed to the constraints of societal expectations, y/n represented a refreshing departure—an enigma wrapped in regal poise and quiet strength. And for y/n, intrigued by Eloise's spirited demeanor and quick intellect, the encounter ignited a curiosity that lingered long after the ball had ended.

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone

I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run

You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

As the evening progressed, Eloise and y/n’s paths collided again near the elaborate dessert table adorned with crystal bowls of sugared fruits and delicate pastries. Eloise, emboldened by Lady Danbury’s encouraging nod from across the room, approached y/n with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, nerves tingling beneath her skin.

“Your Highness,” Eloise greeted warmly, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness despite her best efforts to appear composed.

y/n turned towards Eloise with a gracious smile, her eyes alight with genuine interest. “Miss Bridgerton,” y/n replied with a nod of acknowledgment, noting the subtle tension in Eloise’s stance.

Their conversation flowed with the ease of familiarity yet tinged with the underlying currents of unspoken desire and mutual intrigue. They exchanged pleasantries about the music, the decorations, and the latest society gossip, each word carrying a weight of unspoken meaning that hung between them like an invisible thread.

Eloise, ever the conversationalist, couldn’t resist steering the discussion towards a topic that had intrigued her since their first meeting. “Your Highness, I must admit, I found your observations on the latest literary sensation quite captivating,” she remarked, her tone light yet tinged with curiosity.

y/n chuckled softly, appreciating Eloise’s intellect and the genuine interest she showed in their previous conversation. “Ah, but Miss Bridgerton, I fear my views on literature may not always align with conventional wisdom,” y/n replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

Eloise leaned in slightly, her gaze locking with y/n’s in a moment of shared understanding. “Isn’t that the beauty of literature, Your Highness? It allows us to explore different perspectives and challenge our own beliefs,” she countered, her voice laced with a mixture of admiration and genuine curiosity.

Their banter continued late into the night, punctuated by shared laughter and stolen glances that hinted at a connection deeper than mere friendship. For Eloise, y/n represented a kindred spirit—a beacon of hope amidst the rigid expectations of London society. She found herself drawn to y/n’s quiet strength and unwavering authenticity, traits that resonated deeply with Eloise’s own aspirations and struggles.

In those stolen moments between dances, y/n found herself captivated by Eloise’s infectious enthusiasm and fierce determination. She admired Eloise’s courage to challenge societal norms and speak her mind, qualities that set her apart from the polished facades of London’s debutantes.

As the evening drew to a close, Eloise reluctantly bid y/n farewell with a promise to meet again soon. Their parting left y/n with a lingering warmth in her heart—a feeling that defied the constraints of duty and hinted at the possibility of something more.

Romeo, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel

This love is difficult, but it's real

Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

Eloise and y/n found themselves entangled in a web of conflicting emotions and societal expectations. Despite the undeniable chemistry that sparked between them at Lady Danbury's grand ball, both struggled to come to terms with their growing attraction.

In the days that followed the ball, Eloise couldn't shake the memory of y/n's enchanting smile and the way her eyes lit up with intelligence and charm. She found herself stealing glances at y/n across crowded ballrooms, each stolen glance fueling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Meanwhile, y/n wrestled with her own tumultuous emotions. As Queen Charlotte's daughter, she was keenly aware of the scrutiny her actions faced. The prospect of scandal and disgrace haunted her thoughts, casting a shadow over her budding friendship with Eloise.

Their paths crossed again at another glittering social event, where Violet Bridgerton, ever the matchmaker, introduced Eloise to y/n in hopes of sparking a connection. Eloise's heart raced as she exchanged pleasantries with y/n, their conversation laced with a subtle undercurrent of tension and curiosity.

Later that evening, as they found themselves alone in a quiet corner of the ballroom, y/n couldn't help but voice her uncertainties. "Miss Bridgerton, do you ever feel... conflicted?" she asked tentatively, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Eloise hesitated, her mind racing with unspoken thoughts. "I... I suppose I do," she admitted softly, her gaze searching y/n's face for any sign of understanding. "This world we live in—it's so... unforgiving."

y/n nodded in silent agreement, her fingers nervously toying with the fabric of her gown. "Sometimes I wonder if... if we're meant to feel this way," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eloise reached out, her touch gentle yet reassuring. "I don't have all the answers, Princess," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "But I know that when I'm with you, everything feels... different."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Lady Danbury, who swept y/n away to greet other guests. Eloise watched as Lady Danbury whisked y/n away, her heart sinking with each step that carried them farther apart. Alone in the bustling ballroom, she found herself drawn to a quiet alcove, seeking refuge from the swirl of conversations and glittering chandeliers.

Leaning against a draped curtain, Eloise closed her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. Thoughts of y/n consumed her mind, their unfinished conversation lingering like an unspoken promise in the air.

She traced the intricate pattern of her gown absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting back to y/n's earnest question. Do you ever feel... conflicted? And back to her own comment before the conversation ended, when I'm with you, everything feels... different. How would y/n have responded to that? Did she feel the same way, or was Eloise's heart leading her down a path fraught with uncertainty?

The memory of y/n's smile flickered in her mind—the way it lit up the room, reaching out to Eloise like a beacon in the darkness of societal expectations. They had danced around the edges of something profound, something that could alter the course of their lives forever.

Lost in her reverie, Eloise was startled by the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned to find Benedict Bridgerton, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Sister, are you all right?" he asked gently, his voice breaking through her thoughts.

Eloise managed a faint smile, though her heart still raced with unanswered questions. "I'm fine, Benedict," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "Just... lost in thought."

Benedict studied her for a moment, his gaze searching. "Is it about the Princess?" he ventured cautiously, knowing his sister well enough to sense when something weighed heavily on her mind.

Eloise nodded slowly, unable to suppress a sigh. "Yes," she admitted quietly. "We were... talking. About feelings, I suppose."

Benedict arched an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Feelings?" he echoed, prompting Eloise to elaborate.

"I told her... how I feel when I'm with her," Eloise confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "But then Lady Danbury interrupted us, and I never got to find out how she feels."

Understanding dawned in Benedict's eyes as he took in Eloise's words. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Eloise, you know what they say about the young Princess," he said gently. "She's smart, perceptive. She'll understand."

Eloise managed a weak smile, grateful for her brother's reassurance. "I hope so," she murmured, her thoughts still lingering on y/n's last words to her.

As the ballroom bustled around them, Benedict offered his arm to Eloise. "Shall we join the others?" he suggested, his tone lightening with an attempt to lift her spirits.

Eloise nodded, drawing a deep breath to steady herself. "Yes, let's," she agreed, linking her arm with Benedict's. Together, they returned to the lively gathering, though Eloise's thoughts remained with y/n—wondering, hoping, and silently yearning for their next conversation.

I got tired of waiting

Wondering' if you were ever comin' around

My faith in you was fading

When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said

Days passed after the interrupted conversation at Lady Danbury's ball, each one stretching with anticipation and uncertainty for Eloise. She found herself eagerly attending every social event in hopes of catching another glimpse of y/n, her heart skipping a beat whenever their paths crossed across the crowded rooms.

It was at a smaller, more intimate gathering hosted by the Featheringtons that Eloise finally saw y/n again. The evening was alive with music and laughter, the air fragrant with the scent of gardenias and the promise of summer.

Eloise stood near the refreshment table, feigning interest in the punch bowl as she discreetly watched y/n across the room. y/n was engaged in conversation with Dowager Violet Bridgerton, their laughter mingling with the tinkling of crystal glasses.

Summoning her courage, Eloise took a deep breath and approached them. "Excuse me, Mama, may I steal the Princess away for a moment?" she asked politely, her voice betraying none of the nervousness fluttering in her chest.

Violets eyes flickered mischievously as she glanced knowingly between Eloise and y/n. "Of course, Eloise," she replied with a knowing smile. "Take her—though I warn you, Her Royal Highness has been entertaining us all evening with her wit."

Eloise felt a rush of relief and gratitude towards her mother as y/n turned towards her, her expression lighting up with surprise and delight. "Miss Bridgerton," y/n greeted warmly, setting down her glass to face her fully. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

Eloise swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling the weight of her confession at Lady Danbury's ball. But still she continued to escort the Princess through the crowd until they were outside in the garden, under the nights sky, completely alone.

"I wanted to apologise for our conversation being cut short," she began earnestly, meeting y/n's gaze with sincerity. "I... I meant what I said. About how I feel when I'm with you."

y/n's smile softened, her eyes holding a hint of something that made Eloise's heart skip a beat. "Miss Bridgerton,,," y/n replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper amidst the lively chatter around them. "I've been thinking about that conversation too."

Relief flooded through Eloise as she took a step closer to y/n, their proximity sparking a warmth that spread through her veins. "Really?" she asked, unable to contain the hope in her voice.

y/n nodded, her expression gentle yet filled with a quiet intensity that mirrored Eloise's own feelings. "Yes, really," she confirmed, her hand reaching out to gently touch Eloise's arm. "I didn't get to answer then, but... I feel something too."

Eloise's heart soared at y/n's words, her fears and uncertainties momentarily forgotten in the rush of emotions. "I'm glad," she murmured softly, her gaze locked with y/n's. "I wasn't sure how you'd feel, or... if we could even..."

Before she could finish, y/n leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Eloise's cheek in a tender gesture that sent a shiver down Eloise's spine. "I want to find out," y/n whispered, her breath warm against Eloise's ear. "If we could be something more."

Eloise's breath caught in her throat as she gazed into y/n's eyes, seeing her own hopes reflected back at her. Without hesitation, she reached up to cup y/n's cheek, her thumb caressing the soft skin beneath her touch. "I want that too, Your Highness" Eloise admitted softly, her voice filled with newfound courage and longing.

Y/N smilied, her eyes lighting up. “Please, call me Y/N. Titles are so tiresome, don’t you think?”

Eloise laughed softly. “Very much so. I find this entire season tiresome.”

In that stolen moment amidst the music and the soft glow of candlelight, Eloise and y/n leaned closer together, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken promises and the beginning of a love that dared to defy convention.

As they pulled away, breathless and smiling, Eloise felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Here, in the embrace of y/n's presence, she found not only acceptance but also the beginning of a journey she never dared to imagine—a journey of love, bravery, and the courage to be true to oneself.

They walked together in the garden, the conversation flowing easily. Eloise was captivated by Y/N’s intelligence and wit, and Y/N found Eloise’s rebellious spirit refreshing. As days turned into weeks, their friendship deepened, but so did the confusion. Can this go on forever?

Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone

I keep waiting for you, but you never come

Is this in my head? I don't know what to think

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the gardens of Bridgerton House. Eloise and y/n sat side by side on the swings, their feet lightly touching the ground, pushing back and forth in a gentle rhythm. The air was filled with the scent of blooming roses and the distant hum of London’s bustle, now just a distant murmur.

"I never imagined finding such peace in the heart of London," y/n remarked softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she swayed back and forth. Her eyes wandered over the garden, where vibrant blooms danced in the gentle breeze, their colours vivid against the backdrop of the setting sun.

Eloise, her legs stretched out in front of her, kicked lightly against the earth to keep the swing moving. "It's my favourite place to escape," she said, a small smile playing on her lips as she glanced at y/n. "Thank you for visiting me here."

Y/n turned to Eloise, her gaze filled with an unspoken tenderness. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," she replied, her voice filled with sincerity. She reached out, her hand finding Eloise’s, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. The simple touch sent a jolt of warmth through them, grounding them in their shared moment.

A comfortable silence settled over them, the only sounds the creak of the swings and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. Eloise closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the serenity of the garden and the presence of y/n beside her.

"Do you ever wonder what the future holds for us?" y/n asked softly, her voice filled with curiosity as she turned to Eloise, who was still lost in the quiet of the moment.

Eloise opened her eyes, her gaze drifting towards the horizon where the sun was painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. "I used to worry about it," she admitted, her fingers absently tracing patterns on y/n’s palm. "But now... I like to think that as long as we're together, we can face anything."

Y/n's smile was gentle, her eyes reflecting the twilight’s colours as she leaned her head against Eloise’s shoulder. "I believe that too," she murmured, her voice steady with a quiet confidence. "We'll navigate this world together, Eloise."

In the tranquil embrace of Bridgerton House's garden, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the blossoming love between them, Eloise and y/n found solace in each other’s company. The swings moved back and forth, a gentle testament to their growing bond, anchoring them in a love that defied expectations and embraced the courage to live authentically.

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring

And said, "Marry me, Juliet

You'll never have to be alone

One afternoon in the opulent drawing room of the palace, y/n sat with Eloise, their conversation light and filled with quiet laughter. The warmth of the fire crackled in the background, casting flickering shadows on the richly adorned walls. Y/n leaned close to Eloise, sharing a private moment, both girls peppering kisses over each other's faces, enjoying the feeling of being in each other's embraces.

Unbeknownst to them, Queen Charlotte had returned earlier than expected, her steps muffled by the thick carpet. She paused in the doorway, her sharp eyes catching the intimate exchange between y/n and Eloise. For a moment, she simply observed, her mind racing with the implications.

"Miss Bridgerton!" Queen Charlotte's voice cut through the air, startling both young women. Eloise turned pale, her heart sinking as she realised they had been caught. Y/n sat frozen, her eyes wide with apprehension.

"Mother," y/n stammered, attempting to gather her thoughts. "I can explain—"

Queen Charlotte held up a hand, her expression unreadable. "There is no need for explanations, my dear. It seems the situation has clarified itself." She stepped further into the room, her gaze shifting between y/n and Eloise.

Eloise stood, her nerves taut with uncertainty. "Your Majesty, please understand—"

"I understand more than you might realise," Queen Charlotte interrupted gently, her tone softening slightly. She approached Eloise, studying her with a discerning eye. "Miss Bridgerton, do you care for my daughter?"

Eloise swallowed hard, meeting Queen Charlotte's gaze squarely. "Yes, Your Majesty," she admitted, her voice steady despite her nerves.

"And you, y/n?" Queen Charlotte turned to her daughter, her expression softening. "How do you feel about Miss Bridgerton?"

Eloise hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Mother, I... I care for Eloise deeply. More than I ever thought possible."

Queen Charlotte nodded, her features reflecting a mix of concern and contemplation. "Love comes in many forms," she said finally, her voice carrying wisdom earned through years of navigating societal expectations. "It is clear to me that your feelings are genuine."

Eloise blinked back tears, overwhelmed by her mother's unexpected understanding. Y/n reached out, gently squeezing Eloise's hand in silent support.

“But regardless, you both are participating in acts only those who are married should be. I will not accept a scandal.”

"Mama, what should we do? We can’t imagine life apart!" y/n asked, her voice tinged with hope and apprehension.

Queen Charlotte smiled softly, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Perhaps it is time we consider a different kind of arrangement," she mused, her mind already formulating a plan. "One that will allow you both to live authentically, without the confines of societal scandals, the only right choice in these conditions." She paused (dramatic effect no?)

“Marriage.”

And so, in that serene drawing room of the palace, a new chapter began for y/n and Eloise—a chapter marked by acceptance, love, and the courage to challenge tradition.

I love you and that's all I really know

I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

In the warm, inviting drawing room of Bridgerton House, Eloise nervously clasped y/n's hand. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, adding an air of solemnity to the moment. Around them, the Bridgertons—Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, and the younger siblings—gathered, curiosity etched on their faces.

Eloise took a deep breath, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. "I... We have something to share," she began, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

Anthony, ever the observant eldest brother, arched an eyebrow. "Go on, Eloise. What is it?"

Eloise glanced at y/n, drawing strength from their presence. "y/n and I... We've decided to take a step forward together. We're engaged."

There was a collective gasp of surprise from her family. Daphne's eyes widened, her hand instinctively reaching for Benedict's. Benedict leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. Colin adjusted himself, trying to process the unexpected news.

With the initial shock beginning to subside, the Bridgertons exchanged bewildered glances, each processing the news in their own way.

"Wait, you two are... engaged?" Colin asked, his voice filled with surprise.

Daphne, recovering from her initial shock, spoke gently. "But... how? I mean, are you even allowed to... marry?"

Eloise smiled, a touch of defiance in her eyes. "Yes, Daphne. Queen Charlotte herself has given us her blessing."

Colin, adjusting to the news, nodded thoughtfully. "I see. It's certainly unconventional, but if Her Majesty approves..."

Anthony, ever the pragmatist, chimed in. "Well, then. It seems we are in uncharted territory, but as long as you're both certain..."

Eloise and y/n exchanged a glance, their bond palpable. "We are," y/n affirmed softly.

"Eloise, are you certain about this?" Francesca asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Eloise nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, Francesca. I've never been more certain about anything in my life."

Benedict, always the voice of reason, spoke up next. "Well, this is quite unexpected, but if it's what makes you both happy..."

Hyacinth interjected, unable to contain her excitement. "Eloise, this is incredible news! I didn't think you'd ever settle down."

Anthony, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. "Eloise, Princess Y/N, if this is your decision, then you have my support. Always."

Eloise squeezed y/n's hand tighter, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. "Thank you, Anthony."

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere shifted from confusion to acceptance. The Bridgertons, while initially taken aback, found themselves embracing Eloise and y/n's decision. It was a moment that marked not only a new chapter in Eloise's life but also a testament to the changing times—a time when love was beginning to transcend boundaries and expectations.

Outside, the bustling city of London continued its rhythmic pulse, unaware of the quiet revolution unfolding within the walls of Bridgerton House—a revolution led by two hearts brave enough to defy convention and choose love, in all its unexpected forms.

'Cause we were both young when I first saw you

Eloise stood by the window of their home, gazing out at the bustling streets of London. It had been nearly a year since their marriage, and the city seemed to hum with a different energy. Change was in the air, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in what she and y/n had accomplished together.

The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Beside her, y/n stirred in their sleep, their features softened in the gentle dawn. Eloise smiled fondly, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from y/n's face. They had been through so much together—the secret glances, the stolen kisses, the fear of discovery—and yet, here they were, stronger than ever.

Their marriage had sparked conversations across London society. Some viewed it with curiosity, others with disdain, but Eloise and y/n had found unexpected allies among their peers. Lady Danbury, always a force to be reckoned with, had become a staunch supporter, using her influence to deflect any lingering whispers of scandal.

As Eloise reflected on their journey, she couldn't help but marvel at how far they had come. They had faced challenges and uncertainties, but through it all, their love had remained steadfast. They had created a sanctuary within their home, where they could be themselves without fear of judgement or reprisal.

Outside, the city continued to wake up to a new day. Carriages rumbled past, merchants called out their wares, and London life carried on its bustling rhythm. Eloise turned back to y/n, watching as they stirred awake, their eyes fluttering open to meet hers.

"Good morning," y/n murmured, their voice still laced with sleep.

"Good morning," Eloise replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to y/n's lips. They shared a quiet moment together, the warmth of their embrace speaking volumes where words fell short.

"I never imagined we'd be here," y/n whispered, their fingers tracing patterns on Eloise's cheek.

"Neither did I," Eloise admitted, her heart swelling with emotion. "But I wouldn't change a thing."

They lay entwined in each other's arms, basking in the simple joy of being together. Outside, the city continued its daily hustle, but in their sanctuary, time seemed to stand still.

In the weeks and months that followed, Eloise and y/n continued to navigate their newfound roles as partners in life and advocates for change. They attended social events hand in hand, their presence a quiet yet powerful statement of love and acceptance. Through their actions, they hoped to pave the way for others who dared to love outside of society's conventions.

Occasionally, they would steal moments alone, away from the prying eyes of society, to remind themselves of the bond they shared. Whether it was a quiet evening at home or a stolen kiss in a secluded corner of a ballroom, every moment together reaffirmed their commitment to each other.

Their love story became a beacon of hope for those who yearned for acceptance and understanding. Slowly but surely, attitudes began to shift. Families whispered their support in drawing rooms, friends offered quiet encouragement over tea, and London society found itself grappling with the idea that love knew no boundaries.

As the years passed, Eloise and y/n's love story continued to unfold, weaving itself into the fabric of London's history. They faced challenges and triumphs together, building a life filled with laughter, companionship, and unwavering devotion.

Eloise often found herself marvelling at the resilience of y/n, their strength and determination a constant source of inspiration. Together, they navigated the complexities of societal expectations and personal desires, forging a path that defied tradition and embraced love in its purest form.

And so, in the quiet moments before dawn, as the city stirred awake outside their window, Eloise held y/n close, knowing that their love had not only changed their lives but had also left an indelible mark on the world around them.

I did not plan the lyrics around an epilogue and ran out HAHA oopsie

a/npt2; AHHH how did you guys feel about this, i tried to mot make it rushed i really wanted to start from the beginging and build their realtionship in a way a oneshot can, ive been considering writing a story once im done with these requests so we can get some better romance building then!!

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sleepingdiaryzzz · 4 days ago

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ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ɪᴛ...ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ♥︎

ᴊᴏɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

platonic, ig? Jon is 10 while you're 18+ in this LMAO in which Jon has a crush on you but you, despite being a 18+ year old ahh vigilante is oblivious to all of it. Not a yandere content, jst chill rn

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

The Kent farm always felt like a second home to you. The golden fields stretched endlessly, kissed by the late afternoon sun, and the gentle hum of the wind was a melody you had grown fond of over the years. It wasn’t uncommon for you to find yourself here, sitting on the porch with Lois and Clark, sharing laughter and stories about the League, or helping Jon with his homework at the kitchen table.

Jon had always been a sweet boy—bright, cheerful, and endlessly curious. You had known him since he was a wobbly infant, drooling on your shoulder as you cradled him. You remembered the way he giggled when you’d tickle his tiny toes or sing lullabies softly enough to lull him to sleep. Those memories made your heart swell with affection for him, even now that he was ten years old and growing faster than the crops in the fields.

But lately, something about Jon had changed.

“Y/N, are you staying for dinner?” Jon’s voice piped up from the living room, where he sat cross-legged on the carpet, pretending to read a book. His eyes, however, were fixed on you like you were the most fascinating story in the world.

You glanced up from the kitchen counter, where you were helping Lois chop vegetables for the evening meal. “If it’s okay with your mom and dad, sure. I don’t want to impose.”

Jon’s face lit up like Christmas morning. “You’re not imposing! You can stay as long as you want!”

Lois, standing beside you with a knowing smirk, muttered under her breath, “He’d probably ask you to move in if he thought you’d say yes.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “He’s just being polite, Lois. He’s such a thoughtful kid.”

Lois froze mid-chop, her knife hovering above the cutting board. She turned to look at you, arching a brow. “Thoughtful, huh? Y/N, sweetheart, I love you, but you’re dense”

You frowned, tilting your head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Jon likes you,” she said bluntly, the words hanging in the air like the stillness before a storm.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then you laughed, the sound light and airy, brushing away the tension Lois was trying to create. “Of course, he does. I’ve known him his whole life. We’re close.”

Lois groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, Y/N. He likes you. As in, he has a crush on you.”

Your laughter faltered, replaced by a puzzled expression. “Lois, come on. He’s just a little boy. He’s sweet and affectionate—that’s all it is. Kids are like that.”

Lois stared at you, her lips pressing into a thin line as she fought the urge to bang her head against the counter. “Right. Sure. Just a sweet little boy. Nothing else.” She shook her head and muttered something about needing a Pulitzer for dealing with this level of obliviousness.

Meanwhile, Jon, who had overheard the entire exchange from his spot in the living room, felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He buried his face in his book, hoping the ground would swallow him whole.

The truth was, Jon’s crush on you wasn’t just a passing whim. To him, you were the most incredible person in the world. You were strong, kind, and effortlessly cool. He’d seen you fight alongside his dad and the Justice League, holding your own with a grace that made his young heart race. But it wasn’t just your power that captivated him—it was the way you smiled, the way your laughter filled the room, and the way you always treated him like he mattered.

When you were around, Jon felt like the most important person in the world. And he wanted to be worthy of you.

Clark, ever perceptive, tried to broach the subject later that evening while you sipped tea on the porch swing. The sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson, and the air was thick with the scent of freshly tilled earth.

“You know, Jon talks about you a lot,” Clark began, leaning against the porch railing with an easy smile.

You looked up from your mug, your lips curving into a soft smile. “Does he? That’s sweet. He’s such a bright kid—always curious about everything.”

Clark nodded, his smile faltering slightly. “He looks up to you, you know. You’re a big part of his life.”

Your heart swelled with warmth at the thought. “I love that kid, Clark. He’s like a little brother to me.”

Clark hesitated, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. “Right, but maybe he sees you as...more than that.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Clark, he’s ten. Kids get attached to people they admire—it’s normal. He’s just a kind-hearted little boy.”

Before Clark could say more, Lois stepped onto the porch, her arms crossed and her eyes filled with exasperation. “For the love of God, Clark, give it up. She’s as clueless as you were when we started dating.”

Clark straightened, looking mildly offended. “I wasn’t that clueless.”

Lois snorted. “You didn’t even realize I was flirting with you until I spelled it out.”

As they bickered, you sipped your tea, completely oblivious to Jon peeking through the screen door, his heart sinking with every passing second.

Jon decided that if words weren’t enough to make you notice, he’d have to try harder. Maybe he’d write you a poem, something that captured how he felt when you smiled at him. Or he could bake you a cake, like the ones he saw on TV shows, with “You’re amazing” written in frosting.

But for now, all he could do was watch you, his young heart beating wildly every time you glanced his way. To Jon, you were a constellation in human form, shining brighter than any star in the sky. You were the one who made the world feel magical, who turned ordinary moments into memories he wanted to keep forever.

When you smiled at him later that evening, ruffling his hair affectionately, Jon felt like he could fly without his powers.

“You’re going to grow up to be such an amazing man, Jon,” you said warmly. “The world’s lucky to have you.”

Jon swallowed hard, his cheeks turning pink. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Lois, watching from the kitchen, slapped a hand over her face. “This is painful to watch,” she muttered to Clark.

“Give it time,” Clark said, though even he looked concerned about how long it might take for you to catch on.

And so, the cycle continued. Jon adored you, wearing his heart on his sleeve, while you remained blissfully unaware. To you, he was just a sweet kid you’d known forever. To him, you were everything.

But Jon was nothing if not determined. One day, he promised himself, he’d make you see. For now, though, he was content to sit by your side, basking in your presence, while his dreams of the future danced in his young mind like fireflies in the twilight.

Jon n you fr:

#what'd u guys think of my new look😏#😻– one shot #jon x reader #jon kent #jon kent x reader #yandere superboy x reader #superboy x reader #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #dc x reader #superman x reader #yandere dc

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littlcdarlin · 11 days ago

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Dad!Joel headcanons (Jackson)

warnings: big age gap (unspecified), reader calls Joel Daddy (as in he’s her baby daddy), pregnancy, mention of labour, afab!reader, in my mind Joel has a breeding kink but it’s not explicitly mentioned

note: for the person who requested this <3 hope it lives up to your expectations! For my own sanity, Sarah never existed in this. I cannot handle Joel having another kid after losing her, and I don’t think I will ever write that tbh. Also, the picture in the middle made me cry.

When you tell Joel you think you’re pregnant he doesn’t believe it for a full five minutes (which you find amusing after how hard he tried to accomplish just that) — then he cries

He worries a lot during your pregnancy and babyproofs the house best as he can, using materials Tommy & Maria can spare

One thing he loves about your pregnancy is that whenever you have sex, he doesn't have to pull out, and he makes good use of that newfound freedom

He builds a cradle by himself, surprising you one evening with a set-up nursery: he painted the walls while you were on greenhouse duty with some paint Maria gave him, and even found some cushions to put into the cradle

When you get insecure about the way your body changes, he lets you know how beautiful you are to him, regardless of size or skin condition or anything else

When you start to show people start whispering because of your difference in age, but he brushes them off, so proud to be your baby daddy

He holds your hand the entire time you're in labour, and you squeeze so hard you bruise his bones – the midwife says his fingers might be broken, but he doesn't pay her any mind, not when your baby is almost here

When your little girl is born, Joel is terrified of holding her small body, afraid he'll drop or hurt her somehow, but you reassure him he can do it, and when he does, her tiny body fits into his arms perfectly

You've never seen him cry so much as during the first couple of weeks – a yawn, or sigh, or blink from your daughter will do it, tears streaming down his cheeks

He asks Tommy to be Godfather, and after he accepts, any past fights are forgotten and they start spending more time together

As your daughter gets older, Joel and her bond over all sorts of things. She's fascinated with bugs, so he takes her "bug hunting": they try and find as many insects as they can, Joel drawing small pictures of them into a notebook, while she observes their behavior. By the time she's seven, she's got her own bug lexicon

Sometimes you and Joel disagree on certain rules or privileges for your daughter: you figure self defense is an important skill, but Joel doesn't want her to touch a weapon, ever. In the end you settle on teaching her combat

When you see the pride in Joel's eyes whenever he looks at your daughter, you jokingly call him Daddy – that night he fucks you so deep you think you're having ten more babies just from that

You're adamant about teaching your kids a healthy perception of gender-roles, and you know the age difference between Joel and you sometimes results in traditional roles. Joel agrees with you and asks Maria to get a day a week off of patrols to do household chores, etc.

While your daughter is little, you're allowed to stay home with her, but as soon as she starts classes in the little makeshift school in Jackson, you start working again – sometimes in the greenhouses, sometimes on patrols, and sometimes in the kitchens

Joel and you never go on patrol together – partly because someone has to watch your kid, and partly because of how dangerous it is outside of Jackson. You want to make sure if something happens to either of you on patrol, she still has a parent left

Tommy and Maria take her one night a week so that you and Joel can have some time to yourselves – between clickers, kitchen shifts and raising a kid, romance tends to fall a little short

Some nights you have dinner in your house and cuddle up on the couch together, finally having a whole evening to talk to each other and enjoy each other's presence, and often Joel sneaks you a little surprise treat, like a peace of chocolate, a flower he found on patrol, etc.

Most weeks your free night results in sex – before you had a kid he fucked you almost every morning and night, but there's less time for that now. In the beginning you miss it a lot, but you quickly learn to appreciate the built up, week-long tension: Joel is insatiable, using your precious hours to find as many ways of making you come as he can. It's worth even Tommy's knowing grin in the morning, when both of you have to stifle your yawns

When your daughter is old enough to want to play with toys, Joel starts carving wooden animals for her. He's more handy than you realized, the little toys have lots of character, and Joel's face always lights up when he watches your daughter name them

He loves singing her to sleep, his deep honeyed voice perfect for soft lullabies, and you often catch him making up sweet texts to familiar melodies

You know he wants more children, but he doesn’t press it, not wanting to rush you into the decision. Sooner than you thought you start to miss being pregnant and the magical time after giving birth. You know you’re one of the only people in the world able to have children in safety, and every day you watch your girl grow up healthy and happy you’re thankful for it

When you tell Joel you want another one during one of your date nights, he’s over the moon and makes love to you as often as he can “to make sure it takes the first time ‘round”. By the time he’s done with you, you’re an exhausted, happy, dripping mess

It does take — when you tell Joel your period is late a short while after that night, he swoops you up in his arms and the three of you celebrate as a family that evening, Joel cooking dinner instead of going to the dining hall

#joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #jackson!joel #joel miller headcanons #Joel miller smut #my writing #headcanons #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #mine

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roxirinart · 4 months ago

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Aventurine... You've Gotta Hand It To Him

An in-depth analysis of Aventurine's hands and why they're critical to his character.

Was asked if I could post this (VERY LONG) analysis I made all about Aventurine's hands - niche, perhaps, but I love him very much and he has a LOT of focus placed on his hands in almost every aspect of his story/design! I think it makes for a really neat insight into his character. Let’s go! 2K words or so so we're under a 'read more', folks :P Hope someone finds it interesting :)

Content warning for (very brief mentions of) sexual theming and violence.

I MIGHT be reaching with some of this but I tried to make sure everything was in order, so if there are any inaccuracies lmk! I'm Always on the lookout for more valuable Avencheem lore 😋

The Avgin - Culture and Symbolism

Kakavasha was born 'blessed' with unnaturally good luck by the Avgin goddess, Gaiathra Triclops, who is often depicted as a left palm with three eyes upon it. If we assume that therefore, someone’s left hand is representative of Gaiathra, then we can draw some interesting conclusions!

When reciting Gaiathra’s prayer, the typical accompanying gesture is for two participants to put their left palms together while saying it, which - by ‘covering’ Gaiathra’s eyes with each other’s palms, they are (as per the words of the prayer) ‘keeping their schemes forever concealed’.

In the version of Aventurine’s boss form that was removed from the Divergent Universe, he has an attack that changes name for each phase of the fight, as follows:

Phase 1: “Eyes Once Closed for Lies”,

Phase 2: “Eyes Twice Closed for Trickery”

Phase 3: “Eyes Thrice Closed for Schemes”.

This suggests that the symbolic act of Gaiathra closing her eyes is blessing the person in question not to have their lies, trickery, or schemes revealed - “I do not perceive it, nor shall anyone else.” This is important to the Avgin, as they seem to have a cultural focus on underhanded methods of achieving their goals, although this was blown greatly out of proportion by prejudice from other Sigonians, and (later) the wider cosmos. The game’s loading screen description of the Avgin is as follows:

“‘Avgin’ means ‘honey’ in the Sigonian language, yet those who irrationally fear Avgins unjustifiably distort the word's meaning to perpetuate Avgin stereotypes that portray them as crafty, smooth-talking, and capricious.”

Sparkle, when talking to Aventurine, also describes the Avgin as “...notorious throughout the entire universe! Liars, thieves, social manipulators, wolves in sheep's clothing... You're really living up to the reputation.”

The Avgin’s reputation as essentially ‘evil’ people, and the clear cultural and religious importance they place upon one’s left hand specifically, can reveal some interesting things about them (and therefore about Kakavasha):

In the real world, the left hand is very commonly considered to be the ‘wrong’ or ‘evil’ hand across many religions and cultures. The word ‘sinister’ (which may be a good descriptor for Aventurine’s behavior, or at least peoples' perception of him given how other characters react to him during the main questline) comes from a Latin word that means ‘on the left side’.

The French word for left, ‘gauche’ was borrowed back into english to mean ‘lacking social grace’ - and with Aventurine’s way of getting all up in peoples’ faces, grandstanding, being provocative, etc., it seems that ‘gauche’ isn’t a bad descriptor for him, either.

In the early 20th century, left-handedness was identified as ‘a biological anomaly, associated with deviancy but something that could be corrected away with behavioral reinforcement’.

Likewise, in the middle ages in England, left-handed people were more likely to be accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake. Sounds familiar when compared to the way Sigonia treated the Avgin - as evildoers, tricksters, backstabbers, etc.,

If the Avgin were so ‘left-handed’ in all senses of the phrase, then… perhaps the ‘behavioral correction’ they received could be justified...?

It is reinforced several times throughout both written lore and during gameplay that the Avgin’s beautiful appearances and high emotional intelligence were a source of jealousy to other clans and races, hence the perpetuation of the Avgin’s negative reputation - one that Aventurine ends up playing into, often intentionally.

Why bother trying to change the stereotype if he can use it to his advantage? Besides, it’s not like getting rid of the Avgins’ negative rep will help them now, anyway.

All this is to say that the concept of hiding your true intentions with your left hand - ‘keeping your cards close to your chest’, ‘bluffing’, ‘having an ace up your sleeve’, knowing when to ‘show your hand’ - is a huge overarching theme for the Avgin, and therefore for Aventurine.

Notice that a LOT of sayings to do with hiding things from others or manipulating people’s impressions of you and what they think you might do come from poker or other card games! I can’t think of any universe where the devs did that by accident. Nice work, devs!

The Left Hand

‘Sleight of hand’ is the name of Aventurine’s game, and he sure knows how to play it. ‘Sleight’ means “the use of dexterity or cunning, especially so as to deceive”, so naturally the suffix ‘- of hand’ brings Aventurine’s hands to the forefront as one of his main tools of the trade!

However, the devs once again outdid themselves - each of Aventurine’s hands is representative of parts of his character in very different ways.

Everything about Aventurine is designed to cleverly divert attention away from his real thoughts and feelings.

I’ll get the obvious out of the way: Aventurine’s left hand (as previously discussed) is critically important to his character. It represents so many things for him both visually and otherwise.

If you’re a regular Aventurine enjoyer it’s likely you know about his habit of hiding his left hand behind his back when he’s nervous or making a big (or life-threatening) gamble - but why?

He’s specifically hiding Gaiathra’s hand. I don’t think it’s a coincidence; Aventurine - by hiding away what is essentially a physical representation of his goddess - is ‘closing her eyes’, so he cannot be seen through (even if it’s purely subconscious).

He wants people locked onto his gaze and away from the hand he’s clutching Gaiathra’s ‘blessing’ of good luck so tightly with. (Note: the ironic nature of Aventurine’s relationship with his cursed blessing isn’t lost on me, but that’s another day’s essay. :))

This habit of hiding his left hand behind his back is (once you’re looking for it) very common in the majority of his animations, art, cinematics, and other various media, like in his character trailer when he’s about to reveal the result of his big dice roll; in a specific animation during his bossfight, where he’s actively banking on losing so he can carry out his ‘grand death’ (‘clutching his chips for dear life’, as his future self put it…); the idle animation where he’s fidgeting with one of his poker chips; or in the ‘Final Victor’ light cone, where he is playing russian roulette with his own life just to prove a point to Dr. Ratio (which was a little excessive, perhaps…).

Usually, having a hand behind your back is considered to be suspicious: you’re hiding something, perhaps a weapon.

And for Kakavasha, out of fear and knowing it’ll give him the upper hand, he hides his own weapon behind his back: the physical representation of all his schemes, strategies, lies, trickery, and tactics - and the last Avgin palm to touch another’s.

Perhaps in relation to his particularly strong connection with Gaiathra, Aventurine is also left-handed! Evidence? Sure!

As a general ‘fashion rule’ (and for practicality), wristwatches are worn on the non-dominant hand, and someone as fashion-conscious as Aventurine would very likely be aware of this. His watch is on his right wrist.

Additionally, he wears no rings on his left hand because writing or similar activities would be a pain to do with that much jewelry on. Further evidence can be found in this phone wallpaper of him released by Hoyoverse: he’s holding his phone with his left hand, and people usually operate their phones with their dominant hand. Similarly, in one of the many videos on the Hoyoverse YouTube channel (I’m sorry I don’t know which one it’s from), he goes to grab his tablet off the bedside table with his left hand, too.

The Right Hand

Aventurine’s character is, at its core, is all about defense. Protecting himself from harm, shielding his thoughts and feelings from others, creating an impenetrable barrier of flashy clothing and fake smiles to conceal his true self - this all presents in his moveset in battle, too.

He’s a preservation-class, shield-providing character. The critical thing to note is this: his defense all happens on the right hand. This includes his skill (throwing out chips with his right hand to shield his teammates), and his technique, which generates an additional shield for the team before the start of battle.

His right hand ‘shields’ him both literally and metaphorically in this sense. He wears all his rings on his right hand, because that’s the hand he wants you to focus on, the pretty, sparkly one with all the flashy jewelry and expensive wristwatch, the one that’s extended for you to shake (he shakes with his right hand), the only part of him most people get to touch. A part of the body furthest away from his heart, dazzling and defensive.

The outermost, superficial layer.

It’s the hand that more often performs captivating little coin tricks out in the open to catch people’s attention, keeping them focused on something that’s within his control, because so much of his life isn't.

On The Attack

Here’s the kicker though - this makes his left hand the attacking hand. When push comes to shove (or when he feels he needs to strike first), Aventurine lashes out with Gaiathra’s hand.

As mentioned before, his weapons are his schemes, his secrets, his tricks, his lies - and the hand holding all those chips so tightly is his left, the lucky hand, the one that has brought him success and saved his life time and time again.

Ultimately, it all comes down to relying on his raw luck to push him through (whether he's happy about that or not) when all his other methods of attack have been stripped away - and his hand trembles, because having to make a blind bet that his goddess (who did nothing to stop his family being massacred, yet is both cruel and benevolent enough to keep him alive) will save him yet again must be really fucking terrifying.

When Your Hands Are Tied...

Looking at both hands together, a design choice which I believe to be deliberate is the way he has bracelets of some variety over both his wrists. It’s a subtle imitation of manacles; he may have escaped his iron ones, but Aventurine now lives in golden handcuffs instead, bound by social shackles instead of physical ones.

He’s still a slave - just not in the traditional sense.

To my understanding (someone please correct me if I'm wrong, his timeline has some annoying gaps in it even though I tried very hard to figure it out ;-;), technically Aventurine legally belongs to the IPC.

He killed his most recent owner and so escaped his that particular ownership, sure, but when he barters with Jade, he asks her to pay him the ‘remainder of his market value’, which insinuates that it would therefore give him ownership of himself.

However, Jade doesn’t simply hand over the money: she pulls him into a job contract - a new form of imprisonment - without ever giving him real legal autonomy, never officially declaring him a free man. His hands are invisibly tied - bound by corporate and social 'manacles' to his job.

"Out, Damned Spot!"

Speaking of manacles, let’s talk about the ‘Hunger Games’, shall we?

Kakavasha is, at some indeterminate point, entered into a spectator sport where he is forced to fight thirty-four other slaves to the death.

It is mentioned that he has no other weapon than the bindings on his wrists and the chain between them - and he emerges ‘victorious’ (physically the victor... perhaps not mentally or emotionally, though).

In the quest notes during Aventurine’s (literal) trip through the maze while he’s making his way to the stage for his grand finale, he describes himself with the word ‘murderer’, showing that he’s clearly distraught by what happened and resents himself for it.

Following on from this, a possible interpretation of the design choice to have Aventurine wear gloves is for him to (figuratively) hide the blood on his hands.

Aventurine’s gloves simultaneously create a literal barrier between himself and the world, and work as another piece of fancy clothing to add to his impenetrable, sparking defense. The closest match I could find to the style of Aventurine’s gloves are short dress gloves or wrist gloves, which are specifically fashion items as opposed to practical ones.

(As a cheeky little aside, the absolute closest style match I could find for his gloves are latex or leather womens’ gloves most commonly used in BDSM, which is fun! Maybe I’m reaching, but I like to think it’s a subtle way of making him more effeminate - and in Aventurine’s case, therefore a subtle call to his sexuality imo - and also another little detail to help push his ‘provocative’ appearance and demeanor.)

Conclusion

Our hands are how we interact with the world. In Aventurine’s case, they’re how he keeps the world pushed as far away from himself as possible, all the while gripping onto his ‘good luck’ for dear life.

Aventurine’s hands are his weapons, his shield, his faith, his fear, and his guilt, decorated with jeweled rings and bound in golden handcuffs.

Ultimately, when Aventurine offers to lend a hand to the Trailblazer, when he shows Sunday his hand (and a bit more besides) during their meeting, and when he forces Acheron’s hand during his bossfight, it's so that his own hands are free to do whatever he needs to orchestrate his greatest scheme yet...

...for better or worse.

#I would apologise for this being so long #but im not going to :) I put a lot of effort in hahah #wont apologise for all the 'hand' puns either #roxirinhsr #hsr #aventurine #aventurine hsr #aventurine character analysis #character analysis #honkai star rail #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #LONG POST #roxirinother

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reverieblondie · 10 months ago

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Nobel Blood

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Penetrate sex, Tail rubbing?, Desk sex, Cream pie.

Summary: High society has never been your thing, and now your having to go to the Raven Ball...Maybe you will see a familiar face trying to conduct himself in a new landscape...

A/N: This might be completely self indulgent...but I liked it...

Word Count: 7,370 (I got carried away...)

“What about this one? What do you think?”

Rolan appears from behind his changing screen in a new blue jacket with silver embroidery and buttons. The collar and cuffs are lined with silver. His pants are black and a bit tighter to his body than he is accustomed to. The boots he’s wearing are shining and new. Giving himself a once-over in the mirror in his room, he turns around, holding out his arms.

“Be honest… Thoughts?”

A very bored-looking Cal is lying on Rolan's bed. He turns his head, looks at his brother, and gives him a once-over.

“Like I told you about the four other outfits… You look fine. Please just pick one!”

Rolan scoffs, “Cal, this is important. I have to look my best to make a good first impression. There will be a lot of important people there today. This could lead to some great opportunities.”

Cal looks at Rolan, a bit worried, “Rolan, you are putting a lot of pressure on yourself. Just go and relax, maybe meet someone, make friends. You know, have fun!”

Rolan rolls his eyes as he does his hair in his usual tight, twisted bun, “I’m not going to waste the opportunity to have fun!”

Once he had finished with his hair, he adjusted his collar before turning to have Cal assess him once more. When he turned, he saw the prominent frown on Cal's face. He sighs, “Cal, you know how people look at us. This is a chance to change people's perceptions.”

“The right people, you don't have to change their perceptions…”

The room is quiet, and a silent understanding fills the space. The silence is cut by Lia busting through the doors of the master bedroom. Looking at them like they have lost their minds.

“What are you two doing? Rolan, stop fussing and get going! You get invited to a ball and waste your time primping!”

Rolan sighs as Lia dusts off his shoulders and places his invite in his jacket pocket. Pausing, she looks at his hair and starts to pull and loosen his usual style, making it softer looking with some strains to frame his face and the tips of his ears poking out a bit more,

“What the hells Lia! My hair was fine!”

“No, you always wear it so tight you want it looser, rugged.”

“I’m going for cool and collect.”

“Yeah, but ladies like a bit of ruggedness.”

Rolan swats away her hands and starts to leave,

“I'm not going there to get a date!”

Lia huffs at his leaving figure, “Hopeless…”

Cal looks over at Lia, “Any chance he’s going to loosen up and have a good time tonight.”

Lia takes a moment to ponder the question, “If the right person talks to him.”

-KAW!-

The sudden noise tries to break you from your slumber, but only briefly before you lol back to your dreams…magic hands…a soft warmth…a husky whisper…

-KAW KAW!-

The dream is ripped from you as your eyes are popped open; on pure instinct, you reach for your knife under your pillow, but as you look towards the noise, you pause.

The Falcon blinks and tilts its head at you, curiously fidgeting and hopping closer to you. You pull your hand away from the blade and sigh at the familiar bird, “Hello, Rune. Do you have something for me?”

Rune turns, revealing a message carrier just like you expected, “Clever bird,”

Reaching over you, you scratch her neck while you retrieve the message from the red tube. The tube has an emblem very familiar to you: a golden long sword with vines and two golden roses by the sword's hilt. The paper is thick and white, wrapped with a red ribbon. Unwrapping it, you see the fancy script, and it clicks to you what is happening.

“An invitation for the Raven Ball…and I'm guessing they are hoping for me to attend?”

Rune kaws in what seems to be agreement; you nod at her.

“Well, I guess I should head that way… she's bound to be waiting for me.”

Walking up to the massive mansion lined with guards and littered with candles. The entryway is opened for the invited to shuffle in and out of the party. Just deep breaths, smile, and be pleasant…have grace, and don’t throw punches to the face; saying the rhyme in your head brings back fond memories, and you have to stifle a laugh breaking from your throat. One of your two companions notices you hiding a smirk; he notices everything, and it never fails to drive you crazy.

“Nervous Darling?” Astarion smirks, his red eyes observing you as if he could read your mind.

“Nope, are you?” You challenge.

Astarion fakes a laugh and smiles, showing his long fangs flashing in the candlelight. “Never”

Typical…

Walking through the entrance is like walking through time; these balls have always been the same. The host and the house may change, but the overcrowded rooms are filled with the rich and self-important. Deep breaths… keep taking deep breaths….

Arriving at the main hall of the home with Astarion and Shadowheart in tow, you pause with them as they marvel at the grand space. It truly is a beautiful event. Servers glide around the room with their pristine trays, serving fine wines to everyone; Astarion is quick to grab himself a glass as they walk past. The center of the room is filled with people clapping and turning, floating along to the music. Shadowheart keeps her green eyes scanning the dance floor; she is looking for someone in particular…it is the only reason she decided on attending this ball, along with your pleading. Moving your eyes around the space, the candles light the room brightly and make the gilded arches and decor glimmer in an almost magic shine. Knowing how these people love theatrics, they probably had wizards put on some spells for the grandeur of it all.

Turning to your friends, you see they are entirely taken in by the atmosphere, though when Astarion meets your eyes, he plays his wonderment off as if this is nothing to him. As they continue to stroll about, you continue to fuss around with your dress, the corset's tightness starting to irritate you, and the flowing skirt and sleeves feeling like they're going to wrap around your legs and trip you. You curse under your breath as you have a small battle with the dress picked out for you.

“Dress issues?” Astarion teases

You roll your eyes, and you adjust the bodice up, but you find the action is in vain as your cleavage is still on full display. It's been years, and it makes sense the dress wouldn’t lay the same, but the high golden necklace always sat tight on your neck, forcing you to keep your head up, the exposedness of your chest and shoulders always made your cheeks flush, and the tight bodice lined with gold down to your hips always made your breath short. You did like the ruffled white skirt with the red front panel and the matching red sleeves that go from bust to cascade down your arms; it did look nice. But the part you constantly fidget with for comfort is the emblem at the center of your sweetheart neckline. It's that same one it's always been, a golden longsword with two golden roses…

“Just…adjusting…” you smirk back to hide your irritation.

“These corsets are murder but do wonders for the figure at least?” Shadowheart chimes in

Her silvery white hair contrasted beautifully with her lilac silk dress. The fabric looks like it drapes and flows effortlessly off her polling elegantly at the bottom, and as she moves, it reveals a long slit over her right leg. For a dress she picked out today, it looks like it could have been custom-made for her. She had fussed about the dress and her hair, wearing it in a different style than usual, but you assured her she looked terrific and would catch the eye of a certain soon-to-be duke…

Astarion places reassuring hands on yours and her shoulders. “Well, the dresses are definitely an improvement from the drab, caked-up with, grime outfits I had grown accustomed to seeing you in.”

You both look at each other before looking at him unamused. “Thanks, Astarion…” you say in unison, not completely happy that he pointed out your dirty states on the journey you all met on.

“Anytime Darlings~”

Shadowheart’s eyes go back to the dancefloor, and you think for a moment that you see her getting on her tiptoes (despite being in heels) to look over some heads.

“I think I might stroll around the room…see if I can find any…interesting company.”

You and Astarion look at each other, knowing what she truly means; translation: Shadowheart is going to look for Wyll. They are such an opposite duo, but they are just drawn to one another. Astarion always teases the names Shadow Princess and the Horned Prince when talking about them and their longing for each other.

Shadowheart turns to see your smirking faces and she rolls her eyes before walking off. Good luck you silently wish for her…

You watch as she makes her way through the crowd, a part of you wants to go with her to help navigate the space but you know she wants privacy for this and you don’t blame her. While you watch the floor a familiar sensation of red eyes and a fiendish smirk being placed in your direction makes you shudder. Looking up at him you see a very well-dressed Astarion looking like a vision in all black except for the wine-colored small jacket and gold and ruby necklaces hanging from his neck. When you asked about the jewels he just chuckled and left a quick poke on your nose, a way to irritate you and avoid your questions. He continues to stare and smile at the devious thoughts running rampant in his mind.

“Yes?”

Astarion looks away with a slight laugh, “Oh, nothing nothing…just curious if you were going to go look for anyone special tonight. Any fine suitors on the line for you to turn about with?”

When asked only one person flashes in your mind, but you shake it off not wanting to get your hopes too high. He would probably find something like this a waste of time.

“No, I’m planning a rather dull evening of just watching the grander, saying hi to familiar faces. No suitors eager for my hand. You?”

Astarion looks around the room piercing his lips, “I might also be having a rather drab evening…nothing seems to catch my eye, which is too bad I was in the mood to make some trouble.”

A slight laugh escapes your throat and Astarion looks at you with a raised brow, “Something funny?”

“Well, I just think you have changed a lot since a certain bear tagged along…come to think of it you just came back from the old shadow lands and are planning to go back…”

Astrion narrows his eyes at you and you grin widely knowing he’s smitten.

“Very clever…well, I will leave you to it, going to go find some more wine and maybe go rub elbows with some important-looking people…”

“Play nice Astarion!”

“No promises! Ta Ta!”

With both your friends gone you're now alone in the ballroom and now it definitely feels like old times. Memories of your childhood flash through your mind as you watch. In your memory it's a younger you, biting her lip in disdain and fumbling with her dress, head sore with the elaborate braids that were decorated with trinkets and jewels. The biggest thing you remember? The feeling so isolated and unwelcomed by people meant to be your peers. You can recall two gentle hands placed on your shoulders as people just passed you by…

Shaking off the memories you look at the huddles of people near the walls engaged in conversations, “Well, better go say hi to mom and dad…” Gathering up your skirt and taking another deep breath you go on the prowl.

It was overwhelming and Rolan had to stand to the side to recollect himself. It turns out that coming to socialize with people from the upper city was a lot more difficult than he initially expected. He was starting to wonder why the hell he came here. Yes, he had been formally invited but the people didn’t seem to know who he was or they were staring at him and whispering amongst themselves. Was this all a joke…was he just a thing to be stared at and mocked for the night's entertainment?

Looking down at his crimson hands and long nails…his tail twists around his leg as he balls his hands into tight fists. He shouldn’t have come here, he didn’t belong. Cal and Lia had been so excited about his invitation and were eager to help him get ready with high hopes of him growing his name to the city's lords and ladies. He had promised to make friends and get them invited to the next ball, but now that seems like a silly fantasy.

Unraveling his tail and holding his head up, he decides to leave until a familiar figure catches his eye. Astarion? The pale elf has his red eyes on Rolan while keeping a smug smile on his face, instead of waving or greeting him; however, Rolan's thoughts trail to something, someone else. Scanning the room he’s hoping to catch the sight of a particular hero…

“If it isn't the Archmage of Ramaziths Tower, I figured you would see these parties as a waste of time.”

Rolan's body immediately tenses and he turns around quickly, You smile for having spooked him. You watch as his shining eyes widen as they trail over you, his lips slightly parted and you think you hear his tail fall to the ground. From his reaction alone you're suddenly no longer lamenting having to wear the dress and in fact decide to stand a bit straighter. Once he realizes he’s staring he averts his gaze from your chest and neck, clearing his throat.

“Tav, what…why?”

“What? Not happy to see me?

“I- no…I mean I am! Well not happy, I mean I am happy but not super happy, but a surprised happy! Uh…pleasantly surprised….”

His eyes meet yours and winces at himself, understanding how these parties can whine someone up you decide to ease the tension. Giggling at his rambling you gently punch his shoulder breaking the awkwardness threatening to set in. The force of the punch causes him to stumble and smile.

“It’s good to see you, but I’m a little shocked. I figured these parties would be far too stuffy for such a great adventuring hero of the gate.”

You shrug looking out to the party where you see Astrion watching you two, you give him a look of ‘what?’ and he shakes his head with a smirk and walks away. You turn back to Rolan,

“Actually I’m pretty used to these stuffy parties.”

Rolan’s brows furrow as he looks down at you confused, you do the same as you look up at him, and then it clicks.

“Rolan, I’m from Baldur's Gate. I grew up having to go to these parties and having to take etiquette classes. My mother is a countess, from a long line of nobility and my father is a general for a regiment of the city's army.”

Rolan's eyes widen as you nonchalantly explain your past, “Your… a lady from an important house of Baldur's Gate…and you were out slumming it in the wild? Wielding swords and blowing up goblin camps?”

Thinking for a second you nod “Yeah, my dad used to take me camping and taught me how to fight. Mom wanted me to be a proper socialite but I didn't exactly fit in… Once I got older they told me I could go travel the swords coast, get the wildness out of me before finding a suitor, ya know?”

Rolan shakes his head with a smile, “So you left all of this to adventure and ended up getting a tadpole in your head. That inevitably leads you back here…”

“Hey, I had adventures before that! But I will say that one was my favorite.”

Rolan smirks and looks down at you, “Because it made you a hero?”

You look up at him, his gentle gaze and soft loose strands of hair cascading around his horns making your heart flutter, “Because I got to make friends, and meet you.”

Rolan's face gets slightly darker as he thinks of something to say. With him tongue-tied you take the opportunity to tease him more by sticking your tongue at him. He rolls his eyes and turns away, you swear you see the tips of his ears a light hue of marron now.

“Why are you here? And are Cal and Lia with you? I miss them and their tormenting of you.” You continued to tease. Though you see Rolan’s face slightly drop.

“Well…I was the only one to receive an invitation and I didn’t realize I could bring anyone…I wish I would have, with them around I wouldn’t feel so…” Rolan shakes his head as if to shake away his thought, “I came here to meet people to get them interested in the tower's knowledge and to show that I am a worthy archmage. But I haven’t been able to talk to anyone “

Your heart sinks as you listen to Rolan, you remember having to go there alone at times…Rolan is always trying so hard for his family, it's quite honorable of him and one of the things that drew you to him. Thinking for a moment you try to think of a plan before it hits suddenly, “Rolan I can get you a formal introduction to someone who is very important and that I know would like to hear about the tower.”

Rolan’s face lights up, “I would, I would be so grateful.”

Smiling you wrap your arm around Rolan’s elbow, a part of you thought that he would recoil but he seems to welcome the gesture by straightening his posture and tightening up his arm. Your hand creases his bicep and it takes every part of you not to start teasing him about his surprisingly muscular form. Act like a proper socialite, for Rolan’s sake.

As you two stroll about the floor you keep your eyes peeled. Though you do see some people staring at you and Rolan as you walk arm in arm, you figure people are just wanting to gawk at the hero and the new archmage.

“Seems like we are popular sights tonight.”

Rolan hums, “I think you are the popular sight, I’m probably more of the skeptical…”

“Specktical?”

Looking over to meet your eyes Rolan just gently squeezes your hand, “Never mind, uh, so who are we looking for?”

“Her.”

Pointing out your finger you lead Rolan’s eyes to a group of women fanning themselves as they scan their eyes like hawks around the room. They are all dressed immaculately and as the two of you approach they keep their eyes locked on you both. One of the women quickly whispers to a taller woman, the taller woman turns and Rolan has to hold back his gasp.

She looks like you…well an older version but still stunning. Rolan feels his throat instantly dry and when he looks over to you with a panicked expression, he admittedly comprehends what's happening and he’s never felt so unprepared in his life. Feeling him tense you keep a soft smile and gently rub small circles on his hand, trying to ensure he’s calm when meeting your mother.

In front of the intimidating woman (he sees where you get it now) you release yourself from his arm and give a curtsy. Rolan follows your lead and gives a bow.

“Countess, I would like to formally introduce you to Archmage Rolan, Master of Ramaziths Tower. Rolan, this is the Countess, also known as my mother.”

You feel your cheeks grow red, you're introducing a man to your mother…you never thought this would be happening, it’s very proper of you. Looking up at her face you see a soft smile, for her that’s practically beaming. So far so good.

“I heard about the last master's passing…” she says casually. You and Rolan exchanged a glance before she continued “Can’t say I wasn’t fond of the news, he was always a poor representation of the tower. A bit of a cad.”

Rolan’s jaw practically drops and you are quick to continue the conversation for him while he recollects himself,

“Well, I will have to tell you Rolan is quite proficient in magic, self-taught and self-disciplined. He plans on studying and cataloging the tomes in the tower to then share the knowledge with the realms.” You praise

“That's quite the honorable aspiration for a young man. I am sure everyone would be quite pleased to have access to its knowledge. I have been to your tower once before in my youth, the smell of the weave in the air and the majesty of all the books still leaves me with pleasant memories.”

Meaning: ‘Invite me over to see the tower again because ladies do not invite themselves places’. You're not a bit surprised your mother is taking a fast liking to Rolan, he has a title, is respectable, and usually can hold his own in a conversation but today he seems to keep getting tongue-tied, we’ll chop that up to nerves. With a subtle nudge to his arm, you break him out of his daze where he can give her a proper answer.

“Well, th-thank you. I think everyone should have access to knowledge if they want it. Also, you and Tav should join me at the tower for tea. I will have to prepare a bit but I would be delighted to have you two there.”

Two of her ladies-in-waiting mutter something to each other earning them a prompt glare from the Countess. They quickly scurry away.

“I would be delighted to just name the date. Plus I would love to hear about how you two met, knowing my daughter that story will be filled with twists and turns.”

Rolan giggles and you look at your mom in shock as she openly teases you. You have never seen her be so casual with a stranger, well for her this is casual. You can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, you never were one to crave approval from anyone but it does feel nice when your Mother seems to improve the boy you like.

“I will have you know I handled myself with dignity and grace-“

“I watched her punch someone in the face for disrespecting my kind, it was a lasting impression, a good one,” Rolan says with a laugh and causes your mother to let out a giggle -that woman never giggles!

“Well I will have to forgive her for that, sounds like that punch was well deserved.” Your mother looks at you and you see a softness in her eyes “My tough girl.”

The moment is soft before your mother changes the subject. Ladies must keep the conversation flowing after all.

“Now Tav, why don’t you introduce Master Rolan to your father? I’m sure he would love to meet him.”

With a curtsy and a bow, you two make your way to find your father.

“Never seen you so proper…” Rolan leans down to whisper in your ears, you have to fight the tingling that threatens to show on your skin. Nothing quick like his mockery so close to you.

You take Rolan's arm so he’s leading you through the room, “Never seen you so tongue-tied…” you mock back.

“She's intimidating… I see where you get it from…”

“You should see when she doesn’t like someone, that’s intimidating.”

“Any warnings about your father? Or do you plan to surprise me again?”

“Oh but you do look so cute lost for words, I didn’t know wizards had that capability.” you coo back now blatantly flirting, very unladylike. The scandal…

Feeling bold Rolan tightens his grip on your arm where you can feel his nails against your skin, it is mind-numbing this sudden game. “And I didn't know how ravishing you look in a dress so tightly wound to you.”

The sudden boldness of his words makes you pause, and your cheeks redden. Rolan nervously clears his throat unsure if he overstepped… he brings his eyes up for a distraction and lucky for him he finds one.

“Tav look”, Following his gesture to the dance floor you see a heartwarming sight that distracts your thrumming heart. Wyll spins around the dance floor holding Shadowheart close to his body and he leads her through the dance. They look like a vision together, everyone seems to pause and look at them as they command the space with little effort.

It's while you're watching them you feel a warm hand wrapping around your own. Looking up to its source you see Rolans gleaming eyes on yours taking you in slowly. You swear it’s a secret spell of his to become out of breath and feel sparks when you look at him. The feeling rushes through your veins like it has since you first met him at the grove and all the moments after. Rolan's lips part gracing you with a quick view of his sharp teeth till suddenly you feel yourself being grabbed and thrown into the air.

“And! There is my wayward daughter! Our righteous hero graced us with her presents! Ha Haaa!”

The voice is loud and booming as the large arms wrap around you forcing your body into the air before crashing you back down to your heeled feet. Your father, as bostress as ever and completely uncaring for these parties 'etiquettes’ as always. In a lot of ways, the apple did not fall from the tree.

Taking a moment he scans over you, it's been far too long since you saw him, and from how you ramble and rave at each other it shows. Then his eyes start to scan around you till they are meeting with Rolans, and your father smiles like a Cheshire cat.

“Ah, and I see the rumors are true. You have a gentleman escort this evening.”

“Actually I have two others but one is dancing with the Duke's son while the other is bound to be causing trouble.”

“Trading in for different companies.” His eyes go to Rolan and you see him tease over your father's gaze, “Now to see if this man was worth it.”

“Well, he is a wizard…” Your eyes go to Rolan and you two are now assessing him

“Meet plenty of spellcasters,”

You continue, “Archmage of Ramiths tower…he got the areca artillery working in the battle saving my and my friends' necks.

“The Fire Rainer!” Your father yells, making Rolan and nearby people jump.

Before Rolan can properly process what is happening your Father is grabbing his hand in a crushing grip that Rolan returns.

“My men, We were all in awe of your work getting those dusty turrets to work. And for helping my Tav. Good man.” he continues to shake Rolan's hand for a long moment before letting go and placing a hand on your shoulder.

“He’s good company to keep, strong grip and with fire in his eyes.”

You look at Rolan giving him a nod of a good job before your father is turning to both of you. With a wide grin.

“Now! Rolan, if you walk around with my daughter you must ask her for a dance!”

Rolan stutters over his words as you look at your father like he’s lost his mind.

“Dad, You can’t make him dance.”

“Why not? He wishes to be near you; he must dance with you.”

The words make you flush as you avoid Rolan's eyes, “He’s not the dancing type…”

This causes Rolan to lift a brow, then you feel Rolan’s warm hands on yours leading you suddenly towards the dance floor. In a swift flourish, Rolan spins you and grasps his hand in yours, placing the other on your hip and smirking at your shocked expression…

“Looks like he is!” your father calls barely audible through the music.

The transition to the dance is effortless as you two glide across the floor. Watching his glimmering eyes on yours is spurring your heart into a rush. Your body feels like it’s on fire as he effortlessly glides you through turns and claps. Eyes never leaving one another.

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance?”

Rolan scoffs, “Of course, I know how to dance, you don’t think I haven’t gone to parties before?”

lifting a brow, you look at him with an unamused expression, “OK, I might have practiced…”

You laugh and let him spin you out, then catching your hand and pulling you back to him. His hands in yours, your back flushed to his chest. The dance is completely intertwining, his scent, his warmth, the purring of his chuckling laugh. You want more, your hope is for this dance to never end so you can stay in his arms.

With a twist and a sway of your hips, you smile at him as the blush rushes to his speckled cheeks, a reminder that you are experienced at these dances and you will not hesitate to spice up the moves if it means rubbing against him. It makes his heart thum as he turns you around again, his tail wrapping slightly around your dress as he steps with you till plunging you down to a dip.

A perfect dance partner, finally.

You two stay locked within each other's snare, a small feeling of leaning forward towards each other causing your mouth to water in anticipation of a kiss. Then breaking you two from the moment is roaring applause that fills the room. He lets you rise, and you two join the applause of the musicians as well.

A normal socialite would worry if people could tell how much you liked him. You don’t care, however, Rolan is magnificent, and you would scream it at the top of your lungs, but you know this is his chance to impress rich bastards and prove himself worthy of his new illustrious Title. Of course, the right people already know this, he doesn’t need to impress them.

As you look to the crowd to make your way to your dad to give him sass (and maybe a pat on the back for making that happen for you) you see Rolan Pointing to the front part of the dance floor, music starting to swell up again and your father and mother swaying to the song. Another set of perfectly matched dance partners.

Offering his elbow to you again, you curtsy at Rolan's gesture and let him lead you off the floor. A perfect gentleman, If your mother is watching she is beaming with pride (though she will talk to you about that hip swaying later). Off the floor, your dry throat hits you,

“ I'm going to get a drink, do you want anything?”

“Oh I can-“

“Rolan I can grab drinks, I’m still a hero of the Gate, not a delicate flower.” You tease him.

“A glass of wine sounds great then,”

“I will be a quick second, wait here” With that you gather your skirt and shuffle away. Both of you trying to hide your dorky grins for one another.

Then a stray voice catches Rolan off guard, “Dancing with a noble…but don’t forget you're just hellspawn trash…”

Roland’s eyes widen, and he turns around quickly, but he is met with nothing but a crowd of people wrapped in their own world. One that some are not willing to invite him to. He watches them so clearly, trying not to stare, others staring, and sharing whispers. Then his eyes meet yours.

Golden eyes that you can always catch in any crowd. They shine his brilliance and never fail to make your heartbeat rush. Anyone would be lucky to have him look their way and right now that’s you, drinks in hand, you pick up your speed to get to him faster, but then his starburst eyes shut in something that resembles pain and then he’s gone…Rushing out of the room away from you.

Pausing you watch him leave, your heart sinking to your stomach. Swallowing down the feeling you place the cups on the nearest waiter's tray and run after him.

The hallways are dark as you follow after him. It only gets darker and darker, till you see him dipping into a side room, shutting the door behind him. It takes a bit of self-control on your part, not to rip the door off its hinges as you open it, but the site makes you slow down.

His tail twisted tightly to his leg, hands in his hair, and talking quickly in infernal. Gently you close the door behind you, and with a click lock giving you two privacy in the dark office. Rolan's shoulders tense at the sound of the lock, he can’t bear to look and see your disappointment. You carefully approach as he braces his hands down on the desk. His body so tight you think he will snap two.

“Rolan, wh-what happened?”

Turning his head, his golden eyes shine through the darkness. And they see you perfectly. Face contorted in worry as you gently approach. Your face is the one he knows, the one he saw shining in the sunlight of the Grove, the face that saved him from shadows in the cursed land, the one who held his bruised face so gently promising Lorroakan would never hurt him again… the hero of the gate…his hero.

Then his eyes tail down, his Tav, the hero, dressed in the finest fabrics, a lady of Noble Birth, someone too good for someone like him.

In your eyes, you see him for what he truly is, a strong dreamer, someone who you would walk through the Hells for. A man so dedicated to the ones he loves, you want to love and care for him till your last breath.

“I don’t belong here…I am a joke…a monster for everyone to gawk at.” He finally confesses.

Your eyes grow wide and all you feel is anger, “Did someone say something to you…do something?! Who? I swear I will-“

Before you can, march back into the ballroom and demand reconciliation with blood, you feel warmth wrapping around your shoulders and around your ankle. Rolan's warmth envelops you in his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. Clinging to his forearms you lean into him letting yourself calm.

“You're better than any of them…” you whisper

“Is that what you think?” he mutters in response

“Rolan it’s what I know, you're extraordinary.”

Rolan’s arms tighten around you making you never want to leave his caress, but you still turn to look at him. placing a hand on his face, he’s perfect in your eyes…

“We are different…” he almost pouts

“I like our differences.”

Rolan’s hands slip down to your waist.

“Won’t they slander you, and your family's name?”

“Not the people who matter to me…” your words like a promise

You lean into him rising to your toes to be only a touch away from his lips. You feel his breath fan across yours, and a rush of desire floods your body and mind.

“They will say I tainted you…” his hands caressing your face so gently

“They can go fuck themselves”

The smile you two share is perfect, right before he presses his lips to yours. His lips caressed yours, setting your body a flame, his nails digging into the sides of your dress, and as you felt their points, you gasped and let him trail his lips sloppily on your jaw to your neck. Your mind melted at every rush of his lips, becoming more breathless as the pleasure of this moment crashed over you then pooling into an aching need in your lower stomach. All the blood and the thoughts rush to your swelling bud, leaving your mind in a haze of lust.

Rolan’s tongue licks down at your clavicle while his hands move to cup your breast. You can’t help but shake as he presses kisses and sucks marks to the tops of them. Rolan’s lips find yours again in hunger this time as his tongue seeks to taste more of you. Eargery you met his passion with your own tasting, his wine-laced tongue burning against yours. Undoing the buttons of his jacket you strip it off him in a rush. Once it’s off and tossed to the floor he breaks the kiss and whimpers against your lips, his chest vibrating under your fingertips in a purr.

Turning you quickly, your thighs meet the side of the desk as his lips continue to caress your neck, removing your necklace to nip on your most sensitive spots, all you can do is moan and chant a series of ‘yeses’ and sweet mews of his name. He hums as he spoils himself, touching all over your form.

“More, Rolan…I want to feel more,” your pant

“Here?” The question is raspy and sends shivers through you to your sex.

“Yes.”

Rolan responds by peppering kisses all over you as he quickly gathers your skirt around your hips. Bending over you feel your face burn as you hear is breath hitch,

“F-fuck…” he whispers

You're already bare opting for no underwear, a destination you made on a meer whim but are happy with now. A whimper escapes him as he views you slick and puffy cunt for him, in a deep dialect he mutters something you can not understand that causes your slit to quiver. he no longer has patience his want takes control and you hear his frantic hands undoing his belt.

The moment is eager and full of hunger, the want between you two building to this moment of passion. Rolan has your skirts gathered in a fist as he pushes his burning erection through you making your head spin. The moment is raw and hungry as he hisses from your walls so tight and soft around him, fuck, nobody told him how…soft humans were…

The feeling of the stretch is eye-watering as a lewd moan erupts from your throat, then the feeling of every ridge sliding and reshaping your velvet insides. The curve of his cock brings his sharp tip to find your sensitive spot, nudging and coating it in his burning precum, your toes curl in your heels as your vision blurs, tightening your grip on the oak desk. It's hot, intense, and the best pleasure you have ever felt.

Rolan whimpers and moans as he pushes into your heat further. His face comes down to bury himself into your neck grunting in what sounds more like a whine. Sweat is sheening both of you now in this heated moment your only reprieve of coolness is his panting breath on your neck. Then his hand comes down to yours bracing you and he intervenes his fingers with yours before he gives a final thrust, his blazing tip now nudging on the deepest parts of you. Your slit is taut and your insides flutter against him as you get accustomed to his rigged girth.

“Gods, you feel amazing. Practically sucking me in…” his rich voice rasps into your ear making you shudder.

Taking a second to breathe in the scent of your sweaty neck and your cascading hair; further getting drunk off you. He rolls his hips back, and the drag of his ridges on your gummy walls is an unimaginable pleasure making you arch in a scream to your god.

Pulling to the tip it’s only a second of emptiness before his hips are snapping back into you forcing all the air from your lungs. Continuing to thrust into you back and forth at a constant pace, you mew and grip his hand so tightly. Your arousal drips down his cock and your thighs as it's fucked out of you, desperate to coat his cock.

“Their mighty hero…sweating and dripping for me. You're my girl…you have always been…”

You can’t even think coherent thoughts only able to respond by arching your back further. The room is drowned in your cock drunk moans and his deep growling as your pussy continues to get ravished by him. Hot waves start to build up in your stomach leaving tingles in their wake as you approach your ecstasy. Rolan feels your trembling against his cock making him angle it in deeper. He’s right in his sentiment…you are his…as he is yours…the bond you share led to this moment of passion—the ultimate satisfaction of the want you have for each other.

It's bliss and you rock your hips to meet his thrust, a chuckle escapes him before you feel the rough dragging being rewarded to your clit. It's warm and soft with lines of ridges dragging against you. It only dawns on you as you feel its spaded tip you realize he’s grinding his tail against your sticky sex. Both sensations make spots blur your vision as drool begins to pool in your agape mouth.

In a silent scream, your orgasm crashes over you as all your essences coats him dripping down to fall on his boots and pooling to the floor. Rolan guides you through your high not stopping his thrust while your sex desperately grips him. A ring of creamy arousal forms where you both connect. The sight and feel of your overstimulated pussy fluttering is enough to cause his hips to still and his cock to throb shooting blissfully hot cum in thick spurts, filling you to the brim. The growl is guttural and vibrates through him as he comes down from his high.

Rolan presses his forehead to your shoulder blades as he stays within you for a moment longer letting his ridges smooth as his cock softens till finally pulling out. You can feel the mix of both releases leaking down your legs uncomfortably resisting the urge to beg him to finger it back in.

“Wait one moment,” he says quickly with a soothing rub to your waist as you hear him digging around for his discarded jacket.

Then very gently you feel a soft cotton cloth whipping you down to clean you. Soft ‘shhs’ and coos leave his lips and he is careful over your spet sex. He takes his time, then once you're cleaned and your dress is back down you face his back as he cleans himself, looking over his shoulder with a smile as he retucks himself. Leaning back against the desk you relish in watching him rebutton himself up so elegantly.

His golden eyes stay on you as he gently caresses your sweaty face. Before he leaves he will snap his figures with a spell to clean you two of any lewd residue, but for now, he wants to relish your afterglow. You two stay in silent bliss and his eyes roam over your face, your fingers gently playing with the loose strains of his hair. He’s the first to speak up,

“I want to court you properly.”

Your eyes grow wide, and so does your smile, your heart racing, and sparks burst into your stomach.

“If you were planning to court me, we have already messed up. You're not supposed to have sex beforehand.”

“I don’t care; I’m not of noble blood, so I will do this my way.” there's that confidence.

Rolan pulls you in for a slow kiss that causes your heart to flip and your head to cloud in a pleasant fog.

“Good,” you whisper

Rolan backs up slightly and bows, causing you to giggle as he reaches for your hand. Placing your hand in his, you gently squeeze it as he brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly like a suitor would any proper lady.

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