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astoryofsiren · 27 days ago

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new world | chapter 3

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: A tragic accident left you unable to use your wings and, with that, claimed your father's life, leaving you in the care of your noble uncle. In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 2.3k | 10 minutes A/n: SUPRISE!!! 2 CHAPTER IN A DAY😊 a treat since i passed all my exam with flying colors!!! IN ALL HONESTY! chapter 2 and 3 are one chapter but it seems like a lot of word SOO, i divided into 2! Another good news!! i will try my best to upload every week while im in winter break. I finished drafting chapter 8 and i loved it just the angst and EVERYTHING! Warning: Mentions of emotional distress, ominous foreboding, potential stalking, unsettling sensations of being watched, subtle tension, and implied danger.

The next morning, the lingering weight of unease clung to you like a shadow. You pulled your dark maroon robe from its hook by the door, wrapping it snugly around your shoulders. The fabric was heavy but comforting, lined with faint embroidery at the edges—a pattern of trailing leaves your mother had stitched long ago.

Grabbing your basket from the small table and tucking it under your arm, you paused by the shelf near the door, reaching for a small, leather pouch. Inside were a handful of Aurians—small, hexagonal coins of bronze and silver that served as the currency in Hala. Each one bore a delicate engraving of a sun on one side and a feather on the other. You ran your thumb over the edge of the pouch before tying it securely to your belt.

Stepping outside, you made your way to the barn adjacent to your cottage. The faint smell of hay and earth greeted you as you pushed the wooden door open, the creak echoing in the quiet morning. Inside, the familiar warmth of Branwen—your sturdy chestnut mare—was enough to bring a faint smile to your lips.

“Morning, girl,” you said softly, reaching out to stroke her neck. Branwen huffed in response, her ears flicking toward you as though in greeting.

You moved with practiced ease, gathering her bridle and saddle from the hooks near the wall. “We’ve got a long ride today, Branwen. Market day again.”

She seemed to understand, stomping lightly against the ground as you began to saddle her. You took your time, murmuring small reassurances as you worked, your fingers moving deftly despite the thoughts that lingered at the edges of your mind. Once everything was secure, you tucked a folded blanket into your basket—just in case—and looped the reins around your hand.

“Let’s go, girl.”

Leading Branwen outside, you took a deep breath of the cool morning air, heavy with the scent of damp earth and lingering rain. The sky was soft and pale, the sunlight barely breaking through the thin mist that clung to the trees. You swung yourself up into the saddle, adjusting your cloak so the maroon fabric draped comfortably around your legs.

With a soft nudge to Branwen’s side, you set off down the dirt path. The rhythmic sound of her hooves against the ground steadied you, grounding your thoughts as the looming dread of the Goretheron Bloom sat quietly in the back of your mind.

The road was quiet this early. Birds chirped faintly from the branches above, and the only company you had was the occasional rustle of leaves as a breeze whispered through the trees. Branwen carried you with her usual calm steadiness, her steps unhurried yet purposeful. The faint mist of rain from the night before clung to the ground, carrying with it the sharp, earthy smell of wet soil.

By the time the forest gave way to open fields and the distant hum of the village reached your ears, you felt your shoulders begin to relax.

The closest village was a brisk twenty-minute ride away, its streets already alive with color and noise. Merchants had set up their stalls, their voices ringing out across the square. The smells of fresh bread, roasted meats, and bundles of herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the chatter of townsfolk bartering for their morning supplies.

It was a comforting scene, a stark contrast to the dark silence of your cottage the night before. For a moment, you allowed yourself to breathe, guiding Branwen toward the edge of the market square.

You dismounted and looped the reins loosely around a wooden post before weaving through the growing crowd. The noise was soothing in its own way—a reminder of life, bustling and loud, utterly normal.

You stopped first at a vendor you always visited—a tidy little stall brimming with bundles of dried herbs, baked goods, and small jars of preserves. The owner, Joonie, greeted you with a warm smile as she wiped her hands on her apron.

“Y/N! Right on time, as always,” she said, her tone familiar and teasing. “Come to clear me out of all my feverfew and woodruff again?”

You grinned faintly, setting your basket on the edge of the table. “You know me too well, Joonie. It’s not often I find feverfew as fresh as yours. And perhaps a little of those sweet rolls while I’m here.”

“You keep me in business, girl. Between your herbs and those healing teas you make, the whole village’s aches and fevers disappear in no time.”

You nodded appreciatively. Feverfew, known for soothing headaches and calming inflammation, was a useful herb—one you’d often stocked for your uncle and his patients when he visited. Caius, despite its abundance of rare blooms, rarely saw such practical, temperate plants outside of shipments.

Joonie returned with a small paper bundle of fresh sweet rolls, setting it into your basket along with the carefully wrapped feverfew. Then, with a sly smile, she leaned over the table, resting her chin on her hand.

“Now tell me, Y/N,” she said, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Is there a reason you’re always after feverfew? Someone special suffering a headache you’re not telling me about?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Joonie, it’s for medicine.”

She waved a hand, unfazed by your flat tone. “Oh, I know, but Jay’s still asking about you, you know. Says he hasn’t heard your answer yet.”

You sighed, feeling the familiar heat creep up your neck. “Joonie, you know I’m busy enough without—”

She winked, slipping an extra sweet roll into your basket. “You say that now, but mark my words, one of these days someone’s going to snatch you up. Maybe you’ll even share some feverfew tea while you’re at it.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you tucked the herbs and food securely into your basket. “I’ll be sure to let you know when that happens.”

Joonie grinned, handing you the wrapped herbs as you placed a few Aurians—the silver hexagonal coins—into her outstretched hand.

“Take care, Y/N!” she called after you.

“You too, Joonie!” you replied over your shoulder, her laughter still ringing faintly in your ears as you made your way deeper into the market.

You stopped briefly at a small, cluttered stall tucked between two busier vendors. Its tables were draped in deep green cloth, every inch covered with trinkets, small jars, and curious wares that glinted faintly in the morning sun. It wasn’t the sort of place you typically visited, but something about it drew your attention.

The merchant, an older woman with a kindly face and bright eyes, offered you a warm smile. “Looking for anything in particular, dear?”

You shook your head, absentmindedly brushing your fingers over small carved pendants and polished stones. “Just browsing.”

As your gaze wandered, it caught on something tucked near the back of the table—a small, silver sun-shaped medallion with an intricate engraving. The rays of the sun stretched outward, almost like feathers, and in the center was a delicate stone of faint amber.

You picked it up carefully, the weight of it solid in your palm. The craftsmanship was fine, but the edges were worn enough to suggest age, as though it had been passed through many hands. It reminded you of something your uncle might appreciate—simple yet meaningful, its design carrying an air of quiet authority.

“That’s a fine piece,” the merchant said, leaning forward slightly. “It’s said to be lucky—crafted long ago by an artisan in Charadyn.”

You smiled faintly. “Lucky, you say?”

“For those who carry burdens,” she replied with a wink. “A little light to guide their way.”

It was a silly notion, perhaps, but you tucked the medallion into your basket anyway, already imagining how your uncle’s expression might soften when you handed it to him.

“How much?” you asked, reaching for your coin pouch.

“Two silvers will do,” she replied with a nod.

You exchanged the coins—two Aurians, their feathered engravings glinting softly in the sunlight—and carefully wrapped the medallion in a cloth before placing it in your basket.

“Thank you,” you said softly, and the merchant’s smile deepened.

As you moved back into the flow of the market, the sound of bustling vendors and townsfolk surrounded you once more. You adjusted the basket under your arm, its weight now holding something more meaningful than a simple purchase.

But as you rounded another row of stalls, a sudden prickling sensation crept along the back of your neck.

Someone was watching you.

You slowed slightly, glancing casually over your shoulder. The crowd bustled as usual, but a shadow seemed to flit just outside your vision. You turned back, your steps quickening as you navigated a path between the stalls, ducking into a quieter alley that led toward the fabric vendors.

The sound of footsteps—light but deliberate—quickened behind you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you clutched the edge of your cloak, fingers instinctively drifting toward the small knife tucked into your belt. “Who’s there?” you called, your voice steadier than you felt.

The footsteps halted abruptly.

You spun around just in time to see a familiar face skidding to a stop, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Whoa, easy!”

You blinked, startled. “Yujin?”

Your friend grinned sheepishly, brushing a stray strand of hair back as she caught her breath. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? I called your name twice, you know.”

Relief flooded through you as you exhaled sharply, dropping your hand from your knife. “You scared me half to death, Yujin.”

She smirked, crossing her arms. “Scared you? You’re the one stalking around like you’re running from something.”

You shot her a flat look. “I thought someone was following me.”

“Someone was, Y/N. Me.” She laughed softly, the sound light and teasing as she gestured for you to follow her back toward the market. “I was looking for you. Mama’s been asking about you all morning—she wanted to say thank you for the medicine.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. Yujin’s mother had been one of your more difficult patients, her recovery slow but steady.

“How is she feeling?” you asked as the two of you walked side by side, the tension from earlier slowly melting away.

“Better. You really do work miracles,” Yujin replied, nudging your arm playfully. “She says she hasn’t slept that well in years.”

You smiled softly. “That’s good to hear. I’ll stop by and check on her before I leave.”

The rest of the morning passed in pleasant company. You followed Yujin back to her family’s stall, where her mother greeted you warmly with hands that no longer shook as they once had. You checked her pulse, answered her lingering questions, and waved off the basket of fresh bread she tried to force into your hands as thanks.

By the time you returned to Branwen, the weight on your chest had eased slightly. The morning mist had lifted, leaving the air sharp and clear, but the unease from earlier still lingered faintly in the back of your mind. As the village faded into the distance, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder once more, half expecting to see a shadow flitting at the edge of the trees.

The feeling of being watched had vanished, but it didn’t stop the occasional prickle along the back of your neck.

“Just tired,” you muttered softly to yourself, patting Branwen’s neck reassuringly. The mare let out a steady breath in response, as though she agreed.

By the time you arrived at the cottage, the sun hung high in the sky, casting long beams of light through the canopy above. You slid off Branwen’s back, her coat warm beneath your hand as you led her toward the barn.

“There you go, girl,” you murmured, loosening her bridle and brushing down her chestnut coat with practiced ease. “You’ve earned a rest.”

Branwen huffed softly, nudging your shoulder as you hung up the saddle and left her with a fresh bucket of water and hay.

Satisfied, you turned toward the house, your boots softly crunching against the grass as you crossed the small yard. The quiet of the cottage greeted you as you pushed the door open, a familiar warmth wrapping around you like a well-worn blanket.

You set your basket down near the table and pulled off your maroon cloak, draping it neatly over the back of a chair. The hum of the day’s ride still buzzed faintly in your bones, and for the first time in hours, the weight in your chest seemed to ease entirely.

But then you heard it.

A soft rustling sound—feathers shifting, deliberate and near.

You froze, your hand still resting on the back of the chair. The sound came again, faint but unmistakable, from just behind you.

You turned sharply, heart hammering in your chest.

Standing in the doorway, partially silhouetted by the light filtering in from outside, was a familiar figure.

“Yunho.”

His name slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He stood tall, his indigo cloak fluttering faintly as though he’d only just landed. Loose strands of his dark hair fell across his forehead, but his golden-brown eyes were clear and sharp, fixed squarely on you. His wings—large and striking—rested partially folded at his back, the faint edges of his feathers catching the light.

Then, before your eyes, his wings began to retract. It was seamless—elegant—as though the feathers folded into themselves, vanishing beneath his skin until there was no trace of them left. The movement was quiet, almost unnatural, and yet undeniably beautiful in its fluidity.

He tilted his head slightly, his mouth curving into the faintest of smirks.

“Am I intruding, my lady?”

The words hung in the air, carrying just enough teasing to soften the tension that had coiled in your chest. But beneath it, his tone still held that same quiet, measured weight, as though he were testing your reaction.

You exhaled, the surprise melting into something you couldn’t quite name. “You’re back.”

The corner of his mouth quirked further, though his gaze remained steady. “I told you I would return.”

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wanderingsoul6261 · 8 months ago

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Stuck with Me

Credit for gif goes to aaronwarner

James Beaufort x Reader

Synopsis: James and Reader are secretly dating. Elaine finds out and started to treat Reader terribly. Reader is an Ellington, sister to Elaine, twin to Alistair. When James finds out what Elaine had been doing, he does to comfort the reader.

Product of a series of requests that had explained similar scenarios.

warning: suggestive themes, but no details. Probably bad grammar and editing. I tried. Finished it in a rush before work. Will probably edit later.

-------

The two of them were honestly surprised that they had been able to keep their relationship a secret as long as they have. James and Y/N both went to a school where a majority of the students were too smart for their own good. Although, it wasn’t even the school that they were surprised about keeping the relationship from. It was their siblings. Y/N was not only a close and confiding friend to Lydia, but she was also an Ellington sibling. A twin to Alistair, older sibling to Elaine.

They were definitely trying to hide things from Elaine. If she were to find out, it would be the end of the world. At least for Elaine that is.

James and Y/N had wondered for some time on what would be the best way to keep this secret. It wasn't like they hated each other, so they couldn't use that. Y/N had in fact spent as much time around James as many others have. They had even considered fabricating a lie. Making up an event in which it would give the two no rhyme or reason not to hate each other.

But then they remember who one, they were related to, and two, who they were friends with. It would have been a difficult one to pull off, no less keep afloat. So the two continued to bounce ideas off of each other, and had finally decided to keep interactions around others to a minimum.

They give each other fleeting glances when passing each other in the hall. If they sit next to each other in a classroom or just anywhere that will allow them, an arm or leg are barely brushing against each other. When addressing each other, they say their names. No nicknames. No usage of ‘hey’ or anything else. Just their names. If they sit on a bench, James allows his arm to rest on the back of it. They continue their normal mannerisms, and maybe that's why no one has caught on just yet to their charades.

James and Y/N had the undivided attention of each other but in some way, they wanted more.

—

Y/N was walking Lydia when They bumped into James, Alistair, Wren and Cyril. The two girls stood shoulder to shoulder.

“I'm just saying. You guy are twins. Don't you have that mind thing that allows her to know what you're thinking? Or when you feel pain?” Cyril flicked Alistair in the forehead. Alistair had looked unamused, but Y/N felt otherwise. An amused smile graced her lips as she glanced momentarily at Lydia.

“Ow.” The monotone voice and stare of Alistair caused a small snicker to come from Y/N. The four boys jumped, caught off guard by their company. Y/N eyes flickered to James, flashing a smile before Cyril pulled her away from her spot next to Lydia.

“The girl of the house. Y/N, seriously. You guys don’t have that twin telepathy thing going on? Did you feel it when I flicked Alistair's forehead?” Y/N looked at him, then her brother.

“I didn't feel anything. Sure you used enough force behind it? It was really light. Like a feather.” Cyril dropped his jaw, not expecting the comeback. “It's okay Cyril. Some women like the light touch of a man.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her like he was trying to read her.

James smirked as he looked at Y/N. She looked around the small group of people. Wren was waiting for an answer, one of which Alistair didn't want to hear. Lydia now looked just as amused as Y/N did. Then her eyes landed on James. He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking into a small smirk.

“I prefer not to tell.”

“Way to keep a man wondering.” Cyril drew Y/N's attention back to him.

“You're not really a man, Cyril. A boy, maybe. But a toddler fits the image better.” Cyril took a stagger back, a hand to his chest. “You wound me so.”

“Good. You can ask James and Lydia the same question.” James instantly shook his head.

“I don't know. Do you want me to flick your forehead and see if I can feel it?” James looked at his sister.

“Do you want me to flicker your forehead and see if I can feel it?” James flashed his sister a cheeky grin before turning back to Cyril.

“You can do it.” Cyril looked at Lydia, who glared at him, albeit playfully. He shook his head.

“I prefer life.”

“Good choice. Anyways, I'm off to class.” Lydia bid the group goodbye. Cyril, Wren, and Alistair were next to leave.

“Alistair!” Y/N called out to her brother. He looked back. “Don't let the toddler pester you too much. They can be pesky little buggers. Can't they?” He flashed her a smile at the same time Cyril turned back and flipped her the finger.

Once they were gone, Y/N turned to James. He was already smiling at her.

“Do you like soft touches?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, his smile turning to a smirk.

“Wouldn't you like to know.” His hands itched to touch her. James looked up and down the hallway, making sure no one was there before pulling her into an empty room.

He pushed her up against the wall. His hands entangled themselves in her hair. Y/N looked up at him, her fingers combing through his hair. She brushed his hair out of his face.

“Playing a dangerous game every second both of us are in here.” Y/N said.

“I had to have a few seconds with you.”

“Well since both of us are in here, kiss me already.” James pulled her to him, capturing her lips in a kiss. He took it slow, holding her against him. She put one arm around his neck, while her other hand moved up his shirt, settling on his waist. James sucked in a breath at the touch, before moving his lips from hers and up along her jaw.

“How’s this for soft touches?” He whispered.

“Mm. Too soft.” James pulled back enough to look into her face. Y/N smirked at him. A low rumble could be heard on his throat, as he captured her lips into a searing kiss, pushing her further against the wall.

And when they finally left the room, little did they know that someone watched them exit minutes later, both looking slightly disheveled, and exchanging a few chaste kisses in what they thought to be a quiet and empty hallway, before going their own way.

—

Over the course of the next few days, Y/N had received glares and mistreatment from some of the students on campus. James had tried talking to her about her sullen mood lately, but had gotten nothing. Lydia had even tried to talk to her, but Y/N wouldn't even talk to her about it.

And she felt bad, but going to a school where one person was always out to get the other, she didn't know who would believe her. Even if she knew that her boyfriend and best friend were the ones most likely to do just that.

So she received the mistreatment and said nothing. Most of it came from Elaine, her sister. The sneers, the ‘accidental’ bumps, the nasty comments. All from her own sister.

Y/N could make an assumption, as she watched her sister talk to James from the end of the hallway. Her sister brushed up against James, her hands moving his hair out of his face just as Y/N does in private. He had shrunk away from her, a slight look of discomfort on his face. She watched as James politely excused himself, before walking the opposite way from where Y/N was standing.

Elaine knew about James and Y/N, and now part of Maxton Hall did too.

She watched as Elaine stood for several seconds, watching James walk away, before she turned her head and caught Y/N watching her. Elaine sent her a sneer, before starting to walk towards her. Y/N waited for her and whatever kind of mistreatment that she would bring.

“Do you really think that someone like him could love someone like you?” She asked. Y/N stared at her.

“We are sisters Elaine. We have the same blood and genes.”

“He will be mine. James will forget about you, and he will come running to me when that happens.” Elaine had a smug look on her face as she spoke to Y/N. “It's expected Y/N. No one could or would ever love you.” Y/N knew at that moment that Elaine was also talking about herself. Elaine finally turned to walk away.

“Oh. And Y/N.” She stopped and turned. “We aren't sisters.” The last little bit of Y/N's heart crumbled as she watched Elaine walk away. Her hand reached into her pocket, and with shaky fingers, she got ahold of their chauffeur. Y/N wanted to leave.

—

Y/N had opted out of going to class, and hasn’t been in for several days. Their parents were away for business trips and even when they were home, she played it off that she was either sick or had a migraine, which wasn’t too hard to pull off. Alistair had brought home her homework. Lydia and James had also kept her in the loop about assignments, but other than that, she didn’t speak much to either of them.

Y/N had finally told Alistair what had been going on and how Elaine had been treating her. This also, therefore, had spilt the beans about Y/N’s and James' secret relationship. Y/N had thought that Alistair would have had an issue with it, just as Elaine did, but if anything, he was happy for his sister and best friend. Elaine wasn’t good for James anyway.

I told him

Y/N stared down at her phone, looking at her brother’s message to herself. She laid in bed, her face buried in the pillow, sullied with tears as she thought about the last few days and how she managed the situation. It was the wrong way to do so, and she knew it. James and Lydia should have been told, instead of being ignored in the way that they were currently.

She deserved to be hated. They had every right to be bad at her. Instead, they were the opposite.

Lydia had also messaged her, being gentle about it, even if she was upset that Y/N felt that she couldn’t go to her about Elaine. Lydia never liked her to begin with.

Then there was James.

He had only sent Y/N one message.

I’m on my way. J.M.B

She had smiled at his message, finally sending him one back.

<3 Your F/M/L initials

Y/N had only waited a little bit before James was bursting through her bedroom door. He stopped in the doorway.

“Y/N.” His eyes traveled over her face, taking in the appearance of her tear stained face. “Oh love.” James hurried over to the bed, kneeling down on the floor. He brought her face into his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away any tears on her face. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know who would believe me.”

“I would have. You know that.” He said. James searched her eyes, seeing nothing but pain and regret. “How long?” He asked. Y/N swallowed thickly, averting her eyes and face away from him. He grabbed her chin with his hand, moving her face so that she looked at him again. “How long, Y/N?”

She stared at him for several seconds, before looking at his neck, avoiding eye contact.

“A week. More or less.” Her voice broke, remembering how she was treated. It would have been different had it not been her sister that treated her in the way that she did. But it wasn’t different, and it was her sister, so there was no changing it. Y/N sat up on her bed, her legs hanging over the side. James grabbed her hands, holding them in his own. He brought them up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“What did she do?” He asked. Y/N pulled her hands away from his, rubbing her eyes. James settled his hands on her thighs, rubbing his hands up and down them to help soothe her nerves.

“The normal thing a bully does. Sneers. Snide comments. Bumping into them. Shoved me in private, degraded me here at home…” She trailed off, her hands settling on her thighs next to his own. James grabbed her hands again, rubbing his thumbs against her knuckles as he listened to her.

“Is there something else?” She was silent for several moments, trying to find a way to phrase it.

“I shouldn’t let this bother me because I really don’t like her right now, but she told me that we weren’t sisters.” James stared at her in silence for several moments. She stared at anything but him, feeling small in the current situation. “Also told me that she would have you at some point. That you would basically grow tired of me and go to her to give you what I can’t.” she mumbled softly.

“And what can’t you give me?” he asked. “Because you have given me all that I need and more.” James reassured her. He stood up, settled his hands on her cheeks, and brought her into a searing kiss, before pushing her back on the bed.

“What are you doing James?” she asked, staring up at him, confused.

“I’m going to show you how much I appreciate you.” He pushed the blankets off of her. “How much you make me happy.” James looped his fingers in the shorts and panties she wore for sleeping, pulling them down. “That there is no other woman I want other than you.” James pushed her shirt up slightly, laid on the bed, and began pressing kisses to her stomach, moving down. Soft kisses were pressed to her navel, and then on the inside of her thighs. His eyes never left hers, wanting to take in her appearance as he showed her just how much he loved her. One arm looped around one of her thighs, while the other searched for her hand. Her fingers looped with his. “You’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”

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taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

#james beaufort #maxton hall #james beaufort x reader #maxton hall: the world between us

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izvmimi · 10 months ago

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cw: heavy angst, talk of children, childbirth and death, grief, bakugou is miserable tbh, izuku has an unnamed wife

a/n: sorry lol. also repost.

Izuku’s infant son looks disturbingly just like him, Bakugou realizes.

A bit small for age height-wise, but chubby nonetheless, with a shock of green wavy-curly hair. Large, green eyes. The freckles haven’t settled in yet, probably because he’s still too young, but the features are nearly the same.

The kid also won’t stop kicking as Katsuki tries to fasten his diaper, and he’s getting a tiny bit frustrated. At least he’s not crying - thankfully, he doesn’t appear to have inherited the excessively soft disposition from his dad.

“You’re gonna have to be faster than that,” you joke from behind him. Bakugou finishes up securing the diaper, then glances at you and scowls. “Next time he’ll pee on ya!” you giggle while Bakugou gets the baby’s onesie back on then carries him so that he rests on his chest. He makes his way towards the bottle warmer - the baby isn’t crying now, but based on the guide Izuku’s wife gave him, this is about the time for his next feeding and he’s got a pair of lungs on him. It also doesn’t help that the toddler keeps nuzzling his face into his chest as though he’s trying to find a nipple to suck on.

He does have to admit the little kiddo is cute.

“Did you check the temperature?”

You watch him carefully as he shakes warm milk onto the back of his hand, perched on the counter and swinging your feet gently. Bakugou doesn’t keep his eyes off of you as he checks, child cradled in his left arm.

“I know what I’m doing, princess,” he asserts. He has a little pout instead of a scowl instead, the one you’ve always thought was cute, where he communicates his disappointment that you’re underestimating his skill.

“Of course you do, love.” You smile widely, sweetly, as if you weren’t just micromanaging him. Not that he minds - when you hop off the counter and walk towards him, hands reaching upwards to caress his face gently, he can feel his face growing warm, even if your hands are disturbingly cool to the touch.

You make your way to the couch first, nearly gliding along the linoleum that lines the kitchen, then along the impeccably clean wooden floorboards into the Midoriyas’ living room. It’s odd that you know this house so well, but you and Izuku’s wife had long been friends and spent many a night together in this very home when he and Izuku had been wrapped up in high grade missions and wouldn’t be home for days to weeks on end.

You flop onto the couch and point the remote to the television, even though it is already on, set to the news. Bakugou holds the baby in his lap as he sits down behind you and starts to feed him. You rest your head on his shoulder and to Katsuki, you are as light as a feather.

“We haven’t had time together in a long while,” you whisper.

Bakugou’s head tilts ever so slightly so that it rests against yours as well.

“You’re right. I’ve missed you,” he insists. There’s a quiet silence between you. It really has been a while that you’ve been able to sit together like this, despite being husband and wife.

“Are you fine with babysitting?” you ask. “Izuku was worried about asking you in the first place according to ___, and she had to convince him it was okay despite everything, insisting that it would be good for you-”

Katsuki interrupts your rambling with a kiss on your forehead.

“It’s fine,” he says, gruffly. Your lips pull into a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki, I wish things had been different,” you say anyway.

Katsuki can feel his heart breaking, and instead focuses on the child in his lap, monitoring his progress on the bottle. He had wanted a child. He had wanted a child so badly, one that looked like him and you, and what had it brought him?

The memory of you haunting him constantly, always there, but not really there.

When he looks back at you again, your form is starting to dissipate, as it does whenever he starts to remember you’re no longer on this plane of existence.

His hands are full so he can no longer cling to you - plus this has happened so many times before that he’s now nearly used to it - so instead he watches you go, numb, tears no longer falling from his eyes. After all, just for today, he has someone else to take care of, even if it’s for a short period of time.

The kid is falling asleep in his lap now, and it’s just the two of them as Bakugou watches, but doesn’t really watch the shifting pictures in front of him. Being a godfather feels like an incomplete substitute for being a father at times, but it’s valuable all the same.

“Guess it’s just me and you, kid,” he whispers as he rises to put the baby to bed.

When the Midoriyas never return, and Bakugou signs the last of adoption papers, it rings again true.

The child laughs a little more now, unaware that his godfather now turned legal father sees three figures that aren’t really there instead of one now. Bakugou smiles as he throws the kid up in the air, realizing that misery might have helped him mourn you initially, but won’t keep the two of them safe.

“Guess it really is just me and you.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mimi’s notes #daydreams: bnha #cw angst #cw death

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syverse · 9 days ago

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i depend on you // ft. katsuki bakugou

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

bakugou can't bring himself to hate you, even after you left

warnings&a/n: if this is bad LEAVE ME ALONE PLEASE!!! got suddenly verrrry inspired by that one drawing on tiktok and maybe i misinterpreted it in the writing but shoot me who cares. this is like my first time writing something and actually finishing it i get so discouraged and give up. if you hate this i will never do this again.

In his life, there's a lot of things that Bakugou hates. He hates simple and unavoidable things like the rain, and he hates specific things like people who rely on everybody around them. He hates weak people, hates getting up too early in the morning, hates being too involved in other people's lives if he doesn’t necessarily have to be. But, as he sits alone at his desk, forced to listen to the obnoxious and overbearing sounds of society in Tokyo despite how late it is, Bakugo can’t think of anything he hates more than you.

He spent a lot of his life loving you. He loved things like your unwavering conviction to do the right thing, he loved the look in your eyes when you stole glances from each other during class dinner back when you were both in highschool, and loved the way you whispered his name like a prayer when it was just the two of you under the covers of your shared bed. It was hard at first, but as the two of you grew together, so did his love. He learned to love through the sound of your laughter and the feeling of your gentle hands intertwining with his. Nimble fingers pressing into the palms of his hands before flipping them over and placing feather-like kisses on his fingerprints, he tries to swallow the bile that claws its path up his throat.

Along with the symphony of nightlife outside of his agency, he can also pick out the faint sound of a news reporter being broadcasted on a billboard next to his building. Pictures of your face are shown on the large screen, along with the headline “PRO HERO TURNED VILLAIN” and Bakugou holds his breath for as long as he can. His phone lay flat on his desk in front of him, buzzing every few seconds from concerned friends and family members, but the blonde doesn’t dare to touch it. It had been at least a week since your departure from his agency, and the news had spread to all of Japan at this point, but the news and media were still eating it alive as if they were starving.

Bakugou’s eyes glue shut as he wishes for memories of you to disappear, and for the heavy dread in his gut to fizz up and die out. He curses himself for not picking up on it sooner, the fact that you would leave. Looking back on it, he’s pretty sure he could put his finger on the exact moment when you started to fade away. When the universe in your eyes started to blur each time you looked at him, when the sense behind your touch became hesitant instead of gentle, and when your cheeks no longer touched your eyes when you smiled. He should’ve said something. Should’ve done a lot of things to at least delay your disappearance, but Bakugo was familiar with the fact that he was never good with words, and the fact that his heart was bottomless with fear of him making it worse.

Bakugou absolutely hates you for leaving him here. He hates that he can’t throw every single I love you that came out of his mouth into a little box and set it to ashes, hates that he has to go back to home and still smell you on his bedsheets, hates that even though you’ve made it clear that you’re never coming back, he still patiently waits with bated breath to hear you whisper his name again. So, as Katsuki picks himself off of his desk and drags himself to the elevator to return back his house, his house where you don't live anymore, he tries to convince himself to forget you, and ignores the way his tongue instinctively traces the letters of your name on the roof of his mouth.

#bakugou katsuki #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #im about to throw up in my mouth so sorry if this is bad

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wolfish-trickster · 5 months ago

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Imagine....

Hanging out with Rafayel and his friends in a summer cottage of sorts for holidays. One day you make your friends cookies. As you walk around the house giving everyone a taste you walk up to Raf's art studio door. You hear voices. As gently as you could you opened the door a bit to see inside. Rafayel is painting something while talking with one of his friends.

"I don't think she'd like this" his friend says.

"Oh please, of course she will. Everyone likes it when they get a painting of themself!"

"Not everyone is as vain as you."

"Tell me one time when I asked someone to paint me. No? Exactly!"

"Okay, fine, I take it back. I still think this won't make her fall for you."

"You're talking from your years long experience of being single."

While they were bickering your chest tightened. It was no secret you liked your artistic friend. Well, it was only a secret to him. Now that you thought about it, he did start being nicer to you. Complimenting you more often. Sitting a bit closer to you. Asking your opinions. With hope in your heart you glanced at the portrait he was working on. It wasn't finished yet but it was beautiful. If there was anything Rafayel was good at it was painting the nature. The only thing that wasn't so beautiful to you was the person standing in the middle of the beach he was painting. It was only a sillhoutte so far, a blob of colour with no detail. But even then you could see it wasn't you. The girl in the painting lookedmuch more beautiful, even with the lack of details. Besides, you could tell he was just finishing up her hair, which was nothing like yours. Not only the colour but also the length was slightly off.

With a broken heart and tears in your eyes you closed the door and left the plate of cookies on the floor. Your friends asked you what was wrong. Why you were crying. You only told them you want to be alone.

The sand beneath your naked feet was slowly turning cold. And yet you still walked. The setting sun coloured the entire sea red. You looked behind your shoulder. Rafayel's summer house was tiny in the distance. You've walked far enough and yet you're only half calmed. You'll be fully okay after the same trip back.

Suddenly a crow croaked up above. The same strange crow you've been noticing the entire holiday. In a place where all crows went extinct.

"Weird," you thought and turned to walk back to where you came. If it wasn't for two masked men, twins, blocking your path.

In a blink of an eye they got a hold of your arms and engulfed you in deep red smoke. Once it cleared and you broke yourself away from them you ran into another obstacle in form of a man. This one wore no mask. Only stern red eyes.

"Well, we finally meet, kitten."

There were lots of things you didn't know. You didn't know who were the twins that took you, nor the reason behind it. You didn't know this man. Especially the meaning behind his strange words.

You also didn't know Rafayel wasn't painting some other girl. He was painting you if you were a Lemurian, with traditional Lemurian attire and hairstyle. And you definitelly didn't know all of your friends with a panicked Rafayel were searching for you, only finding a couple of black crow-like feathers in the sand surrounding your bracelet.

Part 2

#rafayel x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #lads rafayel #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #lads sylus

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delulujuls · 4 months ago

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birds of a feather | joost klein

hi, its me again. i know its been a hot minute since i posted here but literally i have no idea when the past month left.

anyway, im alive and i finally got a chance to write something, so here it is. its nothing that i used to post here i guess, but i it means a lot to me. while writing this i remembered all of those dark days that i managed to survive. and i guess, joost himself did too.

please, if you struggle with mental health or you just dont feel good at that moment, i do not recommend to read this. feel free to text me if you need to talk to someone.

remember that you are not alone. you can get trough everything as long as you have you.

je bent sterker dan je denkt

summary: joost is struggling with his mental health, but so do reader. but together its a bit easier to go through storm and its even better to look at the rainbow with someone dear by your side.

warnings: struggling with depression, ed, parents loss

pairing: fem!bff!reader x joost klein

Snow fell throughout the night, so the next morning, all of Leeuwarden woke up under a heavy, white blanket.

However, some didn’t get the chance to wake up because they hadn’t managed to close their eyes at all. One of those people was a girl laying down with open eyes in her dark room.

Despite having no desire, motivation, or strength, after a while she sat up in bed more than an hour before her alarm was set to go off. She wrapped herself in the blanket and closed her aching eyes. It felt as if someone had poured two bags of sand under her eyelids.

Her room was in complete darkness, with only the warm, yellow light from a streetlamp filtering in through the uncovered window. The whole house was silent, and nothing outside suggested that anyone else existed in the world but her. She could hear her tear-stuck eyelashes pulling apart with each blink.

She sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hands before finally getting out of bed. She couldn’t afford to skip class; she had already accumulated too many absences recently. The last thing she wanted was to deal with her teacher, who kept repeating the same thing over and over— that she should talk to her parents, that she would call in a psychologist. Just let me live, woman, she thought. Or better yet, let me die.

With a soft groan of displeasure, the girl pulled off her warm sweats and quickly put on an uncomfortably cold shirt and hoodie. The jeans she put on were also unpleasantly cold and stiff. The chill around her cut to the bone.

When she went to the bathroom and turned on the light, she squinted with a grimace. She shuffled over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Nothing surprising stared back at her. Puffy, red eyes from crying, chapped lips, and skin irritated from a runny nose. She sighed and looked down, tying up her hair and turning on the tap, trying to make herself somewhat presentable.

When she finished, she didn’t look much better. The last thing she felt like doing was putting on makeup. A shower from the previous evening was the best she could manage. Before going downstairs, she grabbed her backpack and phone, glancing at the screen. Beside the clock, it was empty. Worried that maybe WhatsApp had failed, she opened the app and clicked on her last conversation. Joost hadn’t replied to her messages since the night before. She sighed and shoved the phone into her pocket. She knew she wouldn’t go straight home after class.

Not feeling like eating breakfast, she simply put on her shoes, jacket, and left the house. It was even colder outside, so she pulled her hood over her head and wrapped herself in a scarf. She couldn’t wear gloves—how else would she change songs, she thought, putting her tangled earphones in.

Even more snow had fallen than it seemed when looking out the window. It was still early, so the streets were covered in snow. The walk to the bus stop was exhausting. When she finally reached it, she realized she still had plenty of time to spare. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a drag. She pulled out her phone from the other pocket, changed the song, and opened her conversation with Joost again. Nothing had changed.

you could at least read my messages. that way, id know if you were alive 06:50

She typed with frozen fingers, holding the cigarette between her lips. The girl exhaled the smoke and sent the message, glancing at the cracked screen of her phone with faint hope. Nothing.

The phone that received the message vibrated on the bed. Its owner, however, wasn’t there but on the floor. Joost lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling. He tried to focus on breathing. Only on breathing. Only on surviving.

He had no idea what time it was, how long he had been lying there. Had he made it through the night, or was it still yesterday, or maybe already tomorrow? On both sides of his head were small, wet spots from the tears that had spilled from his heavy eyelids. He was like a defeated, fallen Gulliver, his tears carving out lakes.

He didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel the pain in his back. He didn’t feel how badly his head hurt from crying or the emptiness in his stomach. He couldn’t remember when he last ate something warm, despite his sister and brother's urging, when he last took a shower, or held his phone. When was the last time he actually spoke to someone? A few hours ago? Or last month?

If looks could drill holes, there would already be a small but precise one in his ceiling. Only when he heard a knock on the door did he snap out of it. It was morning, and his room was filled with light. He had survived the night.

“I’m heading to work, want a ride to school?” his sister’s voice came from behind the door.

It took him about five seconds to remember how his vocal cords worked.

“No, I’ll manage.”

“Are you planning to stay home?”

Silence. On both sides of the door.

“I don’t want to have your school on my back, okay? You’ll go back to class after the weekend.”

Joost sighed in relief, closing his eyes.

“Thanks, really.”

“There’s breakfast on the table,” he heard her footsteps fade away. “Eat something!”

At that moment, he regained consciousness. With great effort, he managed to sit up and lean his back against the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands and clenched his fists in his hair. After a moment, he sighed and looked ahead. The clock on the bedside table showed a few minutes before eight. He hadn’t even heard whether his brother had returned from the night shift. It was as if he’d been in a trance all night, focused only on the passing seconds, taking minute by minute, hour by hour.

When he managed to climb back into bed, he pressed his cheek against the cold pillow and instinctively reached for the phone lying nearby. In the flood of notifications, he noticed more than ten messages from his friend. He felt a pang of guilt.

He swiped and entered their conversation.

you know we can always talk. you dont have to deal with this all on your own 00:21

i know. thanks 00:46

That was the last message he had replied to.

apparently you dont know, because youre doing it again 00:54

you always shut yourself off and dont let anyone in. why cant you understand that you matter to someone? 00:55

you act like youre deliberately torturing yourself, like you purposely want to take on all the fucking pain and show that only you are suffering. surprise, youre not the only one 01:00

im sorry. i didnt mean it like that. its just been hard for me too lately, and im worried about you. i didnt want to say that. im sorry.. 01:12

i want to help you, but i dont know how. how am i supposed to do that if you wont let me? 01:18

i cant imagine losing you, do you understand? 01:19

for fucks sake, theyd bury us together. i couldnt make it without you 01:20

let me help you, please. or at least dont shut me out 04:29

im worried, joost. please reply 13:54

Missed calls x7

you could at least read my messages. as it is, i dont even know if youre alive 06:50

im alive. im sorry 08:01

He replied, staring at the screen. He read her messages several times. He knew he could rely on her, that he mattered to her. But on the other hand, he couldn’t accept it. Him? Someone cared about him? Hey, wasn’t he just the funny, slightly chubby kid who always told silly jokes and made everyone laugh? That he had problems? What kind of problems could a teenager like him have?

She, however, knew that Joost had been through a lot. Losing his parents year after year can break anyone, let alone someone like him. Since she had met him in high school, Joost had always seemed like an extrovert, the center of attention, telling the funniest jokes with his booming voice. But beneath the surface, which he had built himself, lay an incredibly sensitive boy with a big heart. He was the kind of person children smiled at, and dogs ran up to for a pet.

Joost was like a gentle giant. He could pretend that nothing bothered him, that dumb jokes or words thrown around in laughter didn’t hurt. But every one of those words or situations lodged itself tightly in his mind like a pack of rats that couldn’t be driven out for anything. It was as if his body lacked the receptors for anger or aggression. He wished everyone he knew well, but the feeling wasn’t always mutual.

When he was younger, not long after his parents died, he was often mocked for being an orphan. The mean comments and jabs were so hurtful that he stopped attending classes. When someone pointed out that he seemed to have put on a bit of weight recently, he went a week eating nothing but apples, drinking water and smoking cigarettes.

Now, even though some time had passed since then, and he had been through several rounds of therapy, he still had periods like this. When all he wanted was to be alone and let the cold embrace of sadness surround him. To rest his head on the bony shoulder of depression and weep bitterly.

But it wasn’t to be, as he suddenly flinched, hearing something hit his bedroom window. He realized he had lost touch with reality again and had been staring at his phone’s dark screen for who knows how long.

Thinking he had misheard, he settled more comfortably on his pillow.

The girl squeezed the snow harder in her hands, forming a snowball. She took aim and threw it at his window again. When Joost replied to her message, she knew she had to seize the moment. She had skipped the last two classes and immediately went to her friend’s house. She wasn’t leaving until she talked to him.

She took aim again and threw another snowball at the window. This time with success, as moments later, she saw Joost looking out.

He wasn’t sure whether to believe his eyes, but his friend tapped her finger on her wrist, signaling that she had been waiting long enough. The corner of Joost’s mouth involuntarily twitched upwards, and he quickly went to open the door. He knew that if he didn’t, this psycho would keep throwing snowballs until the window broke, and she’d climb in through the tree. He preferred to avoid that.

He unlocked and opened the door, but before he could say anything, she threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. She was cold, and her hair smelled like frost, but she was so alive, so different from the bony arms of depression.

“Don’t do that again,” she mumbled, holding him close.

Joost felt all the air trapped in his lungs release as he closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his friend, resting his cheek on her head.

"You're letting the cold in," he said after a moment, trying to lighten the mood as the wind blew snowflakes inside. "Come on, get inside."

A few moments later, the two friends were in Joost's room. It was clear that cleaning up was the last thing on his mind. The girl glanced around and silently began picking up the scattered clothes from the floor.

"Please, leave it," Joost groaned, collapsing onto the bed. "I'll do it later."

"If you're not going to help, then go take a shower," she replied, putting the relatively clean clothes back into the closet and setting the dirty ones aside near the door.

"I'll do that later too," he mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. Only now did he start to feel how utterly exhausted he really was.

"We both know how that will go," she said pointedly, casting a glance his way. He sighed, feeling her gaze on him.

"I'm too tired. I just can't."

The girl hung up his coat and sat next to him. Joost looked at her face. Only now did he notice her puffy, swollen eyes, sunken cheeks despite the rosy flush from the cold, and chapped lips. He recognized the look.

He immediately recalled one of the messages she had sent him. You're not the only one suffering.

"What happened?"

He furrowed his brows and sat up, studying her face carefully. She knew exactly what he meant. Joost saw the same exhaustion in her that she often saw in him.

She sighed and lowered her gaze.

"I haven't been feeling great these past few days. But you probably know what I mean."

This time, it was his turn to lower his gaze. He didn't know what to say.

He didn't need to say anything.

She moved closer and hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Joost desperately hugged her back, holding her in a bear-like grip.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after a while, still holding her. His voice trembled. "I should be supporting you, but instead, I'm just a burden. It's the only thing I'm good at."

"You're not a burden, Joost," she protested, pulling back slightly to look at him, emphasizing her words. "We should be supporting each other. No one else will understand us better than we understand each other. We're in this together."

At some point during her words, two large tears rolled down Joost's cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, burying his face in his hands, knowing that those two tears were just the beginning. On top of feeling miserable, guilt now added to the weight. It's not that he was unaware of his friend's struggles with mental health—he knew, just as she knew what he was going through. On most days, both of them were cheerful and lively, the life of the party. But sometimes, for a few days, a week, or even two, their light would go out. Depression was a grim lighthouse keeper.

She hugged him again, holding him tightly. Joost clung to her as if she were a lifeline.

"Everything will be okay," she whispered, stroking his hair.

"Everything will be okay," he echoed. "We'll get through this."

They sat there in silence for an undefined amount of time, wrapped in each other's arms.

"I'm not joking about that shower," she said after a while. "I guarantee you'll feel better."

Joost sighed and pulled away from her, nodding. He stood up and went to his closet, grabbing some clean clothes.

"You don't have to clean up, really," he said, glancing at her one last time before reaching for the door handle.

"And wash your hair too," she replied, standing up and continuing to organize his clothes. She looked at him and gave him a small smile, nodding her head to tell him to go and not to worry about the rest.

"Thank you," he returned her smile and went to take a shower.

When he came back, he looked much better. He also felt better. His room no longer resembled a battlefield. Clothes and trash no longer littered the floor, dirty dishes were gone, and the bed was made. But his friend was nowhere to be seen.

Joost peeked out of the door and, hearing movement in the kitchen, went downstairs. His friend was putting dishes into the dishwasher.

"This is probably for you," she said, pointing to some sandwiches wrapped up on the counter.

"I doubt I can eat anything," he replied, glancing apologetically at her. After a moment, he wondered if she had eaten. She also had trouble with eating sometimes. "But I'll eat if you eat with me."

"That won't be enough for us."

"I know, but we can make pancakes."

The girl smiled at his suggestion and nodded.

A few moments later, the kitchen filled with the smell of frying pancakes and the sound of easy conversation. The kind of conversation that, after a storm, offers a glimpse of normalcy. Joost flipped the pancakes while his friend sliced fruit they had found in the fridge. The warm atmosphere began to chase away the heavy clouds.

They weren’t alone. Even when they craved solitude, they weren't isolated. They had each other.

The girl unintentionally glanced at her friend, and noticing his damp bangs falling into his eyes, she pushed them back from his forehead with a gentle hand. Joost smiled at her gesture, unable to help it. She smiled too.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone Can't change the weather, might not be forever But if it's forever, it's even better

Neither of them said it aloud that afternoon, but in the quiet corners of their minds, they both thought how grateful they were to have each other.

#joost klein #joost klein x you #joost klein x reader #joost klein oneshot #joost klein one shot #joost klein fanfic #europapa #droom groot

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heartofjasmina · 7 months ago

Text

Ushijima and bitch little sister!reader who insults all his girlfriends until they run off crying. At first he scolds you gently, telling you if you don't like them all you had to do was tell him. That he wouldn't stay with someone you didn't like.

But it continues, each girl spreading rumors that you're cruel and heartless. Ushijima argues with anyone who says so to his face, telling them that you're a sweet girl.

Until one day he actually hears you tearing down his latest girlfriend.

"You're a worthless cunt who doesn't deserve him. It's pathetic the way you pant after him actually. In fact-" you're sneering, eyes sharp and cold as you look at his girlfriend (who's currently in tears), and Ushijima is floored.

"Y/n!" His booming voice makes you pale, and his now ex girlfriend runs out of the house.

"Ushi-"

"Shut your fucking mouth." He surprises both of you with his language, stalking over to you until you're back against the wall and pouting- knowing that for the first time your big brother is going to punish you for real.

"I spend all goddamn day, defending you when people tell me what a little bitch you've been. And then I find out they're right?"

"I can explain-" you whimper, hating when he's upset with you. Almost as much as you hate watching him give his love to other women instead of you.

"I said quiet." His voice was a low growl that went straight to your pussy, and it messed with your head. He was upset with you, why were you enjoying it?

You clamped your mouth shut as he towered over you, practically vibrating with energy. There was a look in his eye that made you uneasy, but also made you hopeful. Because for once, your brother was looking at you and only you, the other girl quickly forgotten.

"You've tested my patience for the last time, sis." His massive hand grabbed your wrist, dragging you upstairs to his room without a care for how you struggled to keep up with his long strides.

Once in his room he picks you up, manhandling you like you're lighter than a feather, setting you over his lap and locking you in place with his massive thigh on your legs- leaving your ass in the air.

He flips up your skirt, ignoring you when you squeak out in protest. "Brother-"

"You're going to count. One spank for every fucking girlfriend you've been cruel to. Do you understand me?" His voice was level, heated, and deadly serious.

"But-"

"Do you understand me?" His deep voice rattled you to the core and you whimpered, knowing you would've bared your neck to him if you'd been in a proper position. But no, you were strewn across his lap like an unruly child. All because you'd wanted him for yourself.

It wasn't fair.

"Fine. Whatever." Your sass covers up your petulant hurt, but it just makes Ushijima clench his jaw impossibly tighter.

"You're going to regret taking that tone with me sis. Now count." You can barely brace yourself before his massive hand lands on your ass, only your panties separating his skin from yours. The force of it steals your breath and you can only wheeze out pitifully,

"One."

And so it goes, every time you think it will end he reminds you just how many women you've screwed over.

"12 women in a year. You're no where near done. And you're lucky I don't add more because of your fucking attitude." By the time you reach ten you're shaking, your panties are soaked and your brothers chest is heaving.

"Are you going to be good and finish your punishment, or are you still going to be a brat?" He asks, his voice ragged with something dark you can't name.

"I'll be good now, brother. I'm, I'm sorry." There was snot and tears all over your face, you were sure you looked a hot mess and yet- when you looked over your shoudler at your brother he was watching you like you were the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Then take these last two, and you're forgiven." He pinches your cheek, something he's been doing his whole life, and you suddenly feel.. brave.

"I can do it." You nod, sniffling and going back to hugging one of the pillows from his bed. His hand lands on your sensitive flesh witha dull thud and you dutifully whimper out, "Eleven."

The last hit fell dangerously close to your pussy and you spasmed, gasping out a whine and a breathless "Twelve!"

"Good girl sis. C'mere." He gathered you up into his arms, hugging you close and smiling softly as you wince feeling your sore ass on his muscular thighs.

He grabbed a tissue from his bedside table and gently started cleaning up your face, helping you blow your nose just like you were a kid.

When you finally worked up the nerve to speak, you hid your face in his chest. "I hated them. They were taking you away from me and I hated it. You're mine, Ushi. Mine and and no one elses."

You sounded like a spoiled child, declaring ownership like it was your right, and despite himself he melted.

"Fine, sis. You win. I'm yours." He kissed your nose, hugged you tight, and tried to ignore the erection he'd been sporting from the moment he dragged you across his lap. There was time for that later.

For now, he wanted to take care of you.

"Am I forgiven?" You ask after a long while, your voice soft and unsure. He can feel your hand fisted in his shirt, and he sighs.

"Completely." He murmurs honestly, squeezing you a bit tighter in response. "But if you start being a bitch again, you're going straight back over my knee."

"Okay." You admit, knowing that maybe you should hate it, but you can't. Everything your brother did felt like love. Even his punishments. "I"ll be good though. I promise. As long as you look at me and only me-" "Yeah sis, I know. Only you." And for the first time all evening, he smiled.

#tw incest #tw dark content #ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi smut #wakatoshi ushijima #jasmina writes 🌸#ushijima ♡

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cosmic-ghost-hermit · 7 months ago

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What is your hidden talent?

Hey, everyone! It would be super helpful if yall donated to my CashApp. I want to do this kind of work full-time. I have been told by people I read for that I am meant to do tarot reading. I am inclined to believe them because fr it has been so fun for me to see how much it helps yall. Way more fun than any retail/food industry job I've had. I feel like I am actually doing something substantial with my time. If yall want me to be able to continue to do this daily it would be so awesome if yall donated. Thank you guys in advance!

Donate to my CashApp Here

The decks I am using today are The Tarot of the Divine, Believe in You Own Magic Oracle and The Healing Waters Oracle. Take everything that resonates and leave the rest behind but always be open to new experiences.

___________

PILE ONE

Astrology: Leo, Virgo, Scorpio

Song: I Set Fire To The Rain by Adele

Vibes: Teal, green, yellow/gold, shear white cloth, smelling smoke, burning house, swimming, mixed drinks, hot chocolate, braided hair, locked doors, house plants, deep skin tone, 888, shells, feathers, crayons, colored hair, ares

Cards: 2 of Wands, 9 of Cups, 5 of Wands, Mural, Gold, Cleansing, Into the Unknown

Welcome in, pile 1! You have two hidden talents. One that you use rather regularly but unknowingly and the other you have yet to unlock. The energy I am getting from the cards makes me think the two talents are intertwined. ALSO Trigger Warning for abuse in this reading. It is VERY HEAVY. Do not read if you do not think you are ready.

The first hidden talent is starting new from the ground up. I know to you it might not sound that interesting. You have no idea how hard it can be to start new things for others. Starting from the ground up is scary and intimidating. Organizing the chaos in your mind and project that chaos clearly into reality. I see you are probably an artist of some kind. You might paint, make clay sculptures, or hand-make intricate jewelry of some kind. I see you learned to hone this ability because of a karmic relationship. They made you feel adored and cherished until you were in their grasp. When you were trapped with them, they turned on you. It's giving love bombing. This person literally blew up on you over the smallest things. I see a shattered tea/coffee cup. You stayed with them for a long time even though you knew what they were doing was wrong. You had to completely shred the life you had with them. You had to start your life from scratch. Which is why you are so used to the idea of starting with nothing and building up. The pain that you felt from that past connection still hurts you to this day. You probably have PTSD from the situation you were in. I am so sorry you had to go through all that. You didn't deserve to be treated like that.

The second hidden talent is transmutation. I see that the reason you haven't unlocked it yet is because you fear change. What happened to you in that shitty relationship makes it way easier for you to start over than to change the situation. You are scared to see things to the end. I see that this fear reveals itself in your artwork. You probably have many unfinished projects because you view yourself as incapable of seeing them through. Which by the way isn't true you are so capable of anything you want to do. Heal the hurt part of you that thinks you are incapable. Your ex was the one who instilled that in you. Don't let that motherfucker get you down. Especially if they aren't in your life anymore. Don't let them have that power over you, love. You deserve to feel good. Face your fear of them being right. You and I both know they aren't. When you do unlock this ability you will be able to transmute all the pain that asshole put you through into beautiful art. You will be able to finish all of those unfinished projects. You will be able to find true love within yourself. You will find that you were never broken like that bitch said you were. You were always lovely, sweet, and accommodating. You were always creating love everywhere you went.

_______

PILE TWO

Astrology: Sagittarius, Gemini, Pisces

Song: I Love Rock n Roll by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

Vibes: Navy Blue, white, peach, deer, horses, libraries, books, coffee, hot springs, scones, pillow forts, maxi-skirts, cowboys, mermaids, 333, wine, fine dining, tall trees, athena, artemis

Cards: The Hermit, 3 of Wands, Knight of Swords, Nostalgia, Stars, Water Codes, The Healing Lagoon

Hello, pile 2! You have one secret power but trust me it's a good one. You have the ability to pull information out of thin air. You are crazy smart. People might not think it when they look at you because you try not to flaunt it too wildly. You prefer to stay under the radar when it comes to intellect. This makes people underestimate you. I feel that some of yall reading like this for various reasons but others really fucking hate it. You have some insecurity around this skill. That's why you don't think it is a good skill tbh. You think a lot on the go even while in conversation which makes people see you as kind of ditzy. Even so, you absolutely obliterate at trivia night. Your friends come to you first when they need obscure information. You might have been a really lonely kid and spent a lot of your time reading away the time. For a big chunk of your childhood you found your companionship in novels. You may have been bullied for this. Don't let those people's words get you down. Honestly, they were just jealous of your intelligence. The friends you have now love to hear you infodump about your favorite books. They love to hear everything you know about sea creatures and astrology/astronomy. They ask questions not to mock you but because they genuinely are interested in what you have to say. You are magnificent. Your mind is unparalleled. How people perceive you has nothing to do with what is actually happening in your mind. It is just their projections of themselves onto you. Ignore them lmao. <3

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PILE THREE

Astrology: Cancer, Taurus, Libra

Song: Stay by Zedd

Vibes: All shades of blue, creeks, hanging flowers, 9999, faires, watermelon, paint-brush, rabbits, bird chips, car horn, pearls, lily pads, walking in the rain, lanterns, puppies, beaches, zues

Cards: Queen of Cups, Page of Cups, Ace of Wands, 9 of Pentacles, Raindrops, Stagnant Waters, Light House

My dear pile 3, welcome to your reading. You have a hidden ability that I feel is only hidden from you. Everyone else seems to know this about you. You have the power of hospitality and refuge. You are a safe place for everyone you know to come to if they need it. You are the type of person to tell everyone you know if they need a place to stay for any reason, all they gotta do is ask. You have a motherly energy about you, even if you aren't a woman. You always have emergency snacks for occasions like that. You host parties and everyone always leaves feeling 10 times better than when they arrived. You are the friend that lends a hand when needed. You the kind of person to have a shoulder ready for anyone to lean on, even if you don't know them well. The most beautiful thing about this is that these actions are never self-sacrificing. You have an abundance of all that you need so you can be generous constantly to those in need. I see you resting when necessary and listening to your body. I see you volunteering in your community. I think recently you helped clean up a beach or something. Maybe you organized it? Your energy is so soothing. You are just amazing, my friend. Absolutely the softest heart on earth. I also see you might foster animals! You take in rescue animals and nurse them back to health until they can find a forever home. ;n; You are the definition of an earth angel. Please see how amazing you are and how big your heart is. I wanna be your friend so bad from hearing all of this. Never stop being this beautiful of a soul, my dear. You are perfect.

_________

PILE FOUR

Astrology: Aries, Capricorn, Aquarius

Song: Black Girl Magic by Londrelle

Vibes: Cyan, yellow, rusty red, iridescent, sake, 4c hair, magic, spell casting, curse breaking, singing, tea, pottery, steam-train, festivals, celebration, 963, small forests, mercury/hermes, lambs, Oshun

Cards: The Star, Ace of Cups, 2 of Cups, 6 of Swords, 7 of Wands, Tower, Spaceship, Thank You

PILE 4, WOW. Welcome. Your energy is just sooo woah. You are so indescribable. All that you have been through. Everything you have seen. All I can say is, wow. Your secret power is balance. It is a well-earned hidden ability. You have been through so much to gain the skills that I see in this reading. You have traveled so far. When I first looked at the reading I could not pin down exactly what skill you had because you are just so good at EVERYTHING. I legitimately out loud said, "Everything??? Everything." You know how to take care of yourself. You are an excellent lover. If you are a parent you are good at that too. You are chasing your dreams. I see you performing as a singer or a musician and your talent stuns everyone in the room. You are the best manifester in a 20 miles radius. You are a witch for sure. You have worked so hard on breaking karmic familial curses and you succeeded. You succeeded far past your soul's initial expectations. You are everything, my love. Like literally everything. Then it hit me. You are a tightrope walker. You are balancing everything perfectly. Have you ever heard of Rock Cairns? They are stacks of rocks that hikers add to as they pass by on park trails. You have turned your life into something like that. You have perfectly balanced every stone you passed in your life in a pile and you manage it all on your own. First off, I want to tell you what a good job you are doing. What a good job you have been doing since you were born. Second thing, PLEASE REST WHEN YOU NEED IT OHMYGODS. You don't need me to tell you that though. You are probably smoking a joint right fucking now while reading this or you just got done doing that. No notes, baby. You got this. I just think Spirit wanted to remind you of your magnificence.

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cherriesformatt · 7 months ago

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birds of a feather || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: reader is having a hard time but she knows she can come back to her safe place every time

warnings: none just fluff and bit of sadness

word count: 1,3k

a/n: hope you like it kinda put my heart in it

Have you ever just thought that you are done? Like you can't deal with shit anymore and there is nothing that will give you motivation? I felt like this for a long time until I met Matt. Matt started to just be there for me. First as a friend then as a partner. We met in high school when both of us started ditching class because we didn't feel comfortable in school. We would just give each other weird glances and walk different ways until our paths met in the park. We would spent hours hanging out by the Fresh Pond. We talked and had lunch together few times a week. I was waiting for this time because I wasn't able to talk to anyone like I could talk to Matt and I knew he understood me.

I didn't realize I loved him until he came to my house to say goodbye when he and his brothers were moving to LA. I wasn't mad at him, he was chasing his dreams with two most important people for him. They were already successful on YouTube by that time so I understood they wanted more. I was proud of him but I was also dying inside. I didn't want to tell him about my feelings also knowing he broke up with his girlfriend to only focus on their career.

As it turned out not only I realized the strong feeling for one another. But it took us months to confess to each other. I was scared to move away from home but I knew I could do everything for him. So I did. I took everything I had and moved to LA. Got shitty apartment, part-time job and started attending Uni.

Here we are now. Two years in. I had a shitty job, better apartment and best boyfriend and my best friend by my side.

"Ur do wrong about it" I rolled my eyes putting pieces of legos together.

"No, I am not" He said trying to figure out how to connect pieces.

"I do not understand what in your head tells you not to use instructions" I said looking down at him. He was laying down on the blanket while I was sitting cross-legged next to him.

We were in the park near his house on a little lego date. We just came back from Boston few days ago and since that I didn't see him. I was busy with going back to work life after vacation and he as well had stuff going on. And today was a day we finally were alone. Because all of Boston trip we were with friends, his family or my family or I was alone because he had a boys trip. It has been a long time since we could just spend day together and I missed just talking to him.

"Because I know I can do it by myself" He said and I just shook my head and put my finished piece on the blanket.

"Here I am done mr.I can do it by myself" I smiled showing off my lego Pokemon.

"Oh shut up will you?" He laughed and took the instructions. Because of course I was right.

I laid down so my head would rest on his legs. I watched the sky.

"I need to quit my job" I said first time out loud what was on my mind.

'Well...I told you that already, you're not happy there and I know you could to so much better than that or just noting and stay with me?" He looked at me and started to play with my hair putting legos away.

"Matt... you know I do not want you to be my sugar daddy we already talked about this. This is not an option for me. And yes I know you told me that but.. I do not know I feel like my boss is even worst after I took my time off." I said.

"Did something happened?" He asked me clearly concerned.

"Nothing major, you know how I only usually did computer job and prepared meetings for others and for him. Well... he made me be a leader of the meeting...I had a stomach ache for the rest of the day and throw up when I got home because I was so anxious but in the same time I did it and it went well" I said and took a deep breath.

"Why you didn't say anything?" He asked me softly squeezing my hand.

"You were streaming and I didn't want to interrupt" I said.

"I would pick up the phone anyway, you know that.. And about this... he is an asshole but honey... I am so proud of you for doing that I know how hard it must have been for you. Remember my first tour show? I thought I couldn't do it. But you knew I could. And I also know you can do more than this job y/n." He said looking at me and smiled.

"You think?" I asked.

"I know. You have a brilliant ideas and all the time someone else is taking credits for them because you are to kind and you give them away for others to present. Sweets I know you could do that yourself and take all the credits. Of course few first times will be hard but then it will get better and I know you can do it...You deserve so much better than what you are doing now..." He said and I smiled.

"Thank you..." I said and I leaned to peck his lips.

"You do not have to thank me...I will always believe in you" He hugged me.

We talked more until sun was setting down and we came back brining dinner home for everyone.

"Hello! did you miss me already?" I said walking into the leaving room where Chris and Nick were doing something on their laptops.

" Not really I had my Pepsi all to myself for 4 days" Chris smiled at me and I smiled back.

"Yes we did, the only sane person in this household, hi" Nick waved at me and I smiled at him as well.

I was an only child and I was beyond happy that with Matt came two of his brothers, well three but Justin wasn't leaving with him. I felt like I had brothers my own thanks to that and I knew that they cared about me as much as I did for them.

We spend some time with them and then we went to Matt's room.

"I know you had a lot on your mind today so..." he walked to the nightstand and took out our journals.

I smiled and sat on his bed. He gave me mine and took his as well. I rested my back on the headboard and open my journal. I took one of the pens he put between us and just stared to write. I loved that we could just do this together in silence. I rested my head on his shoulder after some time.

"Matt... would you still love me if I was a worm?" I asked.

I moved away a little and sat on my knees so I could look at him.

"Yes? But you would have to forgive me if I squeeze you. You know how wiggly I am in bed when I sleep" He said deadly serious.

"You are so stupid I swear to god...." I laughed looking past him.

"Dear diary... he said he would still love me if I was a worm ❤️" I wrote and closed my journal and throw it across the bed.

He smiled at me and put his journal away as well and he pulled me so I would straddle his lap.

"Til I rot away, dead and buried...." We both said in the same time and I just laughed and kissed him resting my forehead on his.

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #Spotify

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year ago

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Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n the twelfth part! Would you look at that. Thank you for all the love as always. ✨🤍

warnings: kids, Illyrian camp brutality, deaths, killing, blood, trauma, knifes, I think that's all...

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Azriel dug his head into his palms as a twinge of pain shot through his eyes. The feeling wasn't foreign. Rhys had once lost control of his mental powers. Had nearly melted Azriel's brain in the process. So the spymaster knew that you were deep within his brain in some way. But then, it also felt different. A metallic smell filled his nostrils. Azriel slowly forced his eyes open, gasping at the sight in front of him.

There was no snow. No wind. No broken houses. A run-down camp. The place was full of greenery. The sun was shining. Once the ringing in his ears settled, Azriel could hear children laughing. The sound of swords clashing. You stood a couple of steps ahead of Azriel, watching, unmoving. Azriel strode forward, reaching out to you, but before he could, you pivoted to face him. "Come, I would like you to meet someone", you muttered, stepping onward.

Azriel heeded suit. Eyes darting all around the place. "How well do you know the Illyrian history?", you questioned. Azriel shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it depends on...", but he didn't get to finish the sentence before you spoke again, "While Rhysand's father ruled, not all camps belonged to him. Most lords had rights to...", "Have their laws, run their camps without high lord interference", Azriel finished, earning a nod from you.

"Ever heard of Lord Filick?", you rounded the corner swiftly, making no sound as you moved. "North camps?", Azriel questioned. If he was being honest, the political aspect of the camps was misty and unclear at that time. No direct laws were made. It was rather brutal. Power was the thing that ran them. That made men hungry. To operate a camp meant having a spot next to the high lord at the council.

You reached for the wooden door, pushing against it. "Shouldn't we knock?", Azriel called out, yet you didn't look back. The spymaster quickly had to remind himself that this all wasn't real. At least not at present. "He had a wife and a daughter", you muttered right as a tall female strolled through the back door. Her beauty seemed unmatched. It was like nothing Azriel had seen before.

"I don't understand...", Azriel breathed out right as the same door you two just walked through opened and a girl ran towards the female. Cries filled the room, but that was not the thing that had captured Azriel's attention. "The wings, they...", the spymaster muttered, stepping forward as if to get a better look. "Feathered. She was from the day court. One of Helion's angels", you said as if it were nothing. The most basic knowledge anyone could possess, Azriel was about to question it, but the sound of the girl weeping stopped him.

"They said that it's our fault... that...", the girl sobbed in what Azriel presumed was her mother's embrace. "Will they hurt us?", she muttered, yet the female only smiled down at her. "No, papa will never let anything happen to any of us". Azriel's breath hitched once again when he finally saw the girl's face. She looked awfully like you. The only difference was the dark Illyrian hair and the golden eyes. She resembled Zofie more. Only some features were more tailored to you.

"That, unfortunately, didn't last long", you mumbled, snapping your fingers, and the same house was filled with Illyrian soldiers pushing stuff over and shouting filthy insults. Azriel reached for his daggers. The instinct to protect growing stronger. But it all moved too quickly. Two males had the female pinned against the wall. One swift movement and the sound of breaking bones were the only audible sounds.

"What the fuck is this?", Azriel called out, his hand reaching for your shoulder, but the image changed once more. Azriel stumbled slightly as you brought him to that same strange cube. Just this time, Azriel could tell that it was a cell. An outside cell. That same girl sat curled up at the corner of it. People were walking by, laughing. Some even stopped to thread flowers through the bars. Azriel let out a growl. "Why is no one helping her?", his fingers moved to wrap around the metal bars, but they slipped right through them.

"She wasn't just an Illyrian. She was more like you; she had special powers", you stepped ahead, kneeling in front of the girl. Her shivering frame, flinching, "Back then, they thought it was a curse, an anomaly. Illyrian blood had to be clean, so...", you stood up, backing away, "Purified it had to be". Azriel shook his head, "What do you mean? Y/N, what is all of this?".

But the vision pivoted once more. The whole camp was gathered in a circle. People were shouting. Azriel scowled, trying to look for you. Sobs filled the place. Everyone parted as two males dragged the tied-up girl up the wooden altar. "No", Azriel breathed, but this time, as he tried to move, the bodies were blocking his way. Every inch he gained, someone would push him right back.

"Please, papa", the girl sobbed, trashing in the males' arms, but no one seemed to listen; no one seemed to hear her. "What a generous man, Lord Filick is," a loud male voice boomed. "He brought his daughter here so we could finally show you all that the only way we can rid our females of this cruel fate", he said, stepping towards the girl, grasping her chin between his fingers, "Is by leaving them wingless".

Azriel tore the bodies to the sides as he stepped forward. He had to get to her. Had to. Her eyes. Her being itself spoke to him. Called him. "No, please", the girl wept, right as the males pulled heated blades out of the fire. "Papa, tell them; tell them it's not true", she sobbed. Azriel let out a roar as he tore through the never-ending mass. But with one sharp thrust, the main boning of her wings was broken in two.

The place went static for a moment. As if all the air got sucked out. As if it had all frozen in time. And then a scream like no other shattered the silence. More powerful than the last notes of the siren's song as they drag the last bits of the sailors' souls out of their bodies. It was all followed by an eruption of light that drowned out the whole place. Azriel dipped quickly, shielding his eyes. He wasn't sure how long it had lasted. He wasn't sure of anything as the ringing continued in his ears, but he still glimpsed up. Up at the altar, his knees bucked.

There was no girl. No girl that Azriel saw beforhand. In the girl's place, kneeled you. Skin as pale as the snow, and hair is the shade of the cracked ice itself. Blood was dripping from every possible part of you. Eyes. Ears. Nose. Lips. Fingertips. Your body swayed before it hit the altar. You met the same fate as the endless sea of fallen bodies around you. Like the shattered windows. Broken roofs. Azriel wanted to crawl to you, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Couldn't climb the stairs.

"Show me how Rhys found you. Show me what he saw", he said, hoping that you could hear him. "No", you breathed out, and Azriel felt your palm on his shoulders. He reached for your wrists, dragging them towards his chest. "Show me", he said through gritted teeth.

A quiet sob fell from your lips, and within a blink of an eye, Azriel was right in front of your broken body. The snow had covered most of it, yet not even the snowflakes could hide the sea of red that drowned the place. Azriel heard the flapping of the wings first. Then there was the sound of boots hitting the fresh snow. Then curses. And then Rhysand was right on the opposite side of him. Big, purple eyes looking down at the broken girl. "Mother above", he breathed, his veins growing dark as he moved to touch her, drinking in her pain. "Help, I need help", Rhysand shouted out before he moved to brush away the snow, fingers reaching for the pulse points. "Hey, hey", the future high lord called out. "I'm Rhysand; I've got you; no one will hurt you-," but the image blurred quickly. Azriel tried to grasp the words that Rhys spoke, but it was for nothing. The cold wind nibbled at his skin once more. His vision cleared, and the same gloomy sky returned.

Azriel let out a labored breath, briskly moving on to his feat. "Y/N", he breathed out. He had to see you. Had to touch you. Had to feel your heartbeat. He looked around the run-down camp. His senses found your swaying body instantly. There was blood running down your nose. Tears were staining your cheeks. Azriel moved faster than the wind. His strong arms wrapped around your body. Your head lulled back, and Azriel carefully guided it toward his chest. "I've got you, my love", Azriel breathed, his lips pressing against your forehead. He gave the place a final look. Cursing it in all the ways he could, before he winnowed away.

The darkness that pulled you under wasn't comfortable. Cold and sticky. Suffocating and claustrophobic. And then the screaming began. Like it always did, you found yourself jerking upwards, grasping around yourself. A cold sweat dripping down your face. "You're okay", a voice from beside you called, making you jump once more as you turned your head to the side. Azriel had his arms up, making sure you could see that they were empty. "It's okay; you're safe. We're at my place", the spymaster said softly. But you didn't care as you moved forward, getting yourself free of the sheets. Not caring much that you probably looked like a manic as you crawled towards him. Hands grasping for his chest and then neck as you hugged him, your heart beating heavily.

Azriel met you halfway, arms and wings caging you instantly. "I'm so sorry", you muttered time after time, your eyes filling up with tears. "What are you sorry for, my love? You've done nothing wrong", Azriel carefully ran his hand through your hair, twirling the very ends between his fingers. The image of your black hair flashing in front of his eyes. The deep golden eyes. Yet, no matter how much he thought about it, how he hated the change at first. How angry he was that these features had been taken away from you. Azriel couldn't seem to imagine you any different than what you looked like now.

"I didn't want to think of it... I didn't want to go back", you said through the tears that Azriel no longer mangled to keep at bay. "I don't hate you for keeping this to yourself. I only hate the people who put you through it", Azriel said softly, pulling you even closer. "When I saw how you reacted after you saw Zofie's back, I...", another hiccup pierced your chest, and your hand came up to cover your mouth. Azriel's heart ached at the sight of it. Of you choosing to keep this from him for his own good.

All the doubt. The dips in trust. Withdrawals from him. All of it suddenly made sense. You were scared. Given up by a man who was meant to protect you. A man who did not deserve to be called your father. What father would do that to his child? His father did... Azriel shook his head, pushing all of those thoughts away as he slowly swayed you from side to side. "I'd handle hell itself for you, love. I'll bargain with the devil if it means that you would never have to go through anything like that again", he said firmly. You pulled back slightly. "Don't say such things", you breathed, shaking your head.

But Azriel shook his in return, reaching for your hand and placing it upon his chest. "My heart was frozen over before I met you", he muttered. "Now I finally got my warmth back and I'm more than ready to fight for it", "Oh, Azriel...", you closed your eyes as yet another wave of tears came rushing down your cheeks. "Look at me", Azriel spoke softly, tilting your head ever so slightly before brushing both of his thumbs beneath your eyes. "You'll never have to feel scared and unseen ever again; do you hear me?", the spymaster spoke in his soldier-like tone.

Azriel reached for both of your palms, pulling them both to his lips before kissing each of them. A light frown creased his brows. "Why are there still wounds on your palms?", he asked, looking at your hands worriedly. You lowered your gaze. All you wanted was to pull your hands back, but you didn't have it in you to lie anymore. "I'm scared to summon my magic, so this is my excuse". Azriel said nothing for a moment before you felt him carefully cupping your hands. "Do it now; I'll be with you", he muttered. "No, Azriel, I can't... It's...", you breathed out quickly, big eyes looking up at him. "I'm not rushing you, but I know that you can do it, and I think that you should", he said softly, searching your eyes. You blinked up at him a couple of times. Taking a deep breath before you fisted your palms, trying to pull that magic from deep within, feeling it fighting against your reach. That's when you felt Azriel's face right by your neck, his breath tickling your skin. His warmth surrounded your whole body. He slowly unclenched your palms, smiling at the smooth skin that greeted him.

"That's my girl", he muttered, brushing his lips against your cheek. "Now summon your light, love. Show me how you shine", Azriel sensed how tense your body got at the mention of it, so he quickly moved his hands up and down your arms, "I'll meet you right in the middle with my darkness", Azriel smiled down at you after gently brushing his lips over your shoulder, and no matter the pain deep within you, you found yourself smiling back.

"Who suggested you go up to the camps?", Rhys asked, fingers clasped right in front of him. "Well, Padme was the one who created the troops", you breathed out. The meeting was long overdue. The boys had been working for days over this. And you knew that Rhys counted himself responsible for what had happened. As he always did. "She stepped up right after I got taken under the mountain?", the high lord asked. Much had changed when Amarantha came about. There wasn't a part of Velaris that didn't feel it. You nodded. "The priest died suddenly. She was the only one willing to take his seat", you said in return, feeling Azriel's hand running up and down your back softly. Not that it was hard for him to touch you considering that you were sitting on his lap, even if there was a separate chair just for you.

"Tell me that you all are thinking what I'm thinking", Cassian breathed, pushing away from the wall. Rhys shook his head. "What are we thinking?", you asked softly, turning from Cassian to Azriel, who looked like he was ready to slaughter a whole village. "The books looked legit; there was not a single thing that raised suspicions", Rhys said through gritted teeth as he pointed at Azriel. The two no doubt decided to keep some part of the conversation to themselves.

"How is your and Padme's relationship like?", Cassian brought your attention back from the two males having a staring competition. "It's okay... She just... Well, there are rules", you muttered. "Bullshit", Azriel breathed, "Love, be honest with us". Azriel didn't want to push you, but it was his family that was concerned. "Axel told me that she's not happy because you kept them", Azriel muttered, making a breath hitch in your throat. You had never talked about it with anyone. This was your burden to bear. "This has nothing to do with this", you said, shaking your head, but Azriel didn't back away. "You got upset after I dropped you off at the sanctuary. What did she say to you?", and here it was, right in the bull's eye. Your eyes glassed over. Nails digging into your palms. You felt Azriel from within you, soothing and tugging at the golden thread that bonded you.

"This is not an interrogation, Y/N", Rhys said softly, "We want you and the kids safe, and right now, anyone who has ever wished you anything bad should fall under our radar". You met the high lord's eyes over the table. A man who was close to a brother. "She does want to take the kids away from me, and...", you took a deep breath in. Knowing that your next words will sway the whole room, "She called me a sacrifice lamb and that Azriel won't get to save...", but before you could finish, Azriel stood up, making you stumble as you found your footing. "Azriel...", you muttered, trying to reach for him, but he didn't spare you a second glance as he winnowed, Rhys following suit. "No", you breathed out. "Take me to him", you said, turning to Cassian, clinging to his arms. The male-only gave you an apologetic look. "Rhys will take care of him", he said softly. "Come on, let me walk you to the kids", Cassian offered you his hand, "They were painting in Feyre's gallery".

You had watched them paint. Watched Nesta chase Cassian down the corridor with a paint bucket in her hands. Watched Nyx ask Zofie to sit on the chair so he could try and paint her. You took cup after cup of tea from Feyre's hands, but nothing soothed you. Nothing felt right. The worry never died. Don't do anything stupid, please. You muttered into the bond. Please, Azriel, just come back this one time. You felt it echo. Silence. Nothing. Until a light tug from the other side, a light cares reached out for you. Ask Cassian to take you all to my place.

The smell of Azriel that lingered in his place soothed the ache in your chest. The kids looked at the place from the side of you. Curious eyes were soaking up every little detail. "Oh, wow, knives,", Axel breathed instantly, stepping to the big shelf full of weapons, but you swiftly caught him by his shoulder. "Not really baby-proof, is it?", Cassian chuckled from beside you. You shot him a smile, but it was Axel who crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Cassian. "I ain't no baby; Az taught me how to fight with wooden swords". Cassian raised his hands defensively and said, "Shaking in my boots, an oh great soldier, don't come for an old man like me".

You felt Zofie tugging at your skirt, no doubt sensing the shift in energy around the place. "Will he be here tonight so we could all sleep together?", she rubbed her eyes, her head resting on your shoulder. "Azriel had to go somewhere with the high lord, but he will come; you won't sleep alone, darling", you brushed your hand through her hair, swaying her slightly. "I'll help you settle in", Cassian offered, and you were about to say no, but he beat you to it, "Azriel will sit me down on a wooden beam, so please".

You were glad that the spymaster's floor was covered in books, giving the kids quite an energy-consuming activity as they not only flipped through them but also organized them into piles that mostly made sense to them. You only hoped that this wouldn't cause more work for Azriel. After the second pile was completed, Zofie crawled onto your lap as sleep finally took over her tiny body, which looked even smaller now that she was wearing one of Azriel's shirts. Axel followed suit, defeated by pile number five, and dozed off on the rug, not even bothering to reach for a pillow.

And here you found yourself, thinking how much everything had changed. The moment Rhys showed up with an unconscious spymaster, you had no idea where fate would take you two. And now you cannot imagine how your life could go on without him. How the kids would go on without him. You didn't want to go on without him. Not after letting him into the deepest parts of yourself. And in the quiet living room, you let yourself wonder about how you both could watch Axel and Zofie grow up. Maybe, just maybe, you could find yourself again.

Azriel didn't listen to Rhys's demand to come back to the lake house first. He knew the conversation would have to follow suit, but it sure wasn't going to happen tonight. And if his high lord wanted to pick a fight with a man who was in desperate need of going back to his woman and kids, he sure was going to meet a monster he had never met before. Another thought struck Azriel. Never had he come back to his apartment and felt so much calmness and joy. Sure, he was pissed that Cassian hadn't demanded that you rest in bed, but the sight of you three sprawled out on his fluffy carpet was a sight Azriel could get used to. He softly pulled at the bond, not wanting to wake you up with a jolt. Too many demons had been let loose in the past couple of days.

"Azriel", you muttered softly, and the spymaster smiled at you lovingly, caressing your cheek. "Let me take her", Azriel carefully moved his hands around Zofie's frame, scooping her up in his arms. The girl stirred, her big golden eyes looking up at him. Azriel ran the tip of his finger over her nose and brows, trying to soothe her back into slumber. "Azzy", the girl murmured, grasping for him blindly. "I'm with you, little star", he said, rocking her gently as he walked towards his mattress. Zofie let out an unsatisfied sigh at the loss of a contract with Azriel once he lowered her onto the plush sheets, tiny fingers grasping at his hands. "I'll be right back; I need to carry Ax here", he breathed out, letting her lighten her grip on her own. In no way did he have the strength to pull his hand away from her by force.

"Cool knives", a sleepy voice sounded from the doorway. Axel stood there, his eyes barely open, with you right behind him, guiding the boy towards the sheets. "Thanks, bud. We can look through them tomorrow", Azriel quickly reached over to tassel the boy's hair, earning a lazy smile. "Does that sound good?", the spymaster quickly asked. Axel nodded, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips as you pulled the blanket over his body. Leaning in to kiss the boy's forehead.

Azriel watched the scene in front of him for a heartbeat. If anyone had told the scared boy in the dark, windowless cell that one day he would be happy, that his heart would be filled with nothing but love. That he would get a chance to create a family, he would never have believed it. But now, looking down at two tiny children slumbering in his bed while you sat on the other side of the bed, Azriel felt so thankful that he didn't give up back then. That he pulled through. And suddenly, the heartache felt worth it. All his mistakes seemed worth it because they led him to you.

"Come here", Azriel gently guided you towards his side of the bed, "I haven't had a chance to properly hold you yet". You reached to cup his cheek, teary eyes looking up at him. His girl. His mate. Azriel never wanted to see you cry again unless it were happy tears. "Tell me you didn't do something silly", you rested your palms against his chest, looking up at him. "Well, I was on my way to burning the place down, maybe...", "Azriel", you gasped, pulling back, but the spymaster only held onto you tighter. "I didn't; Rhys talked me out of it", Azriel breathed, but not without adding, "For now". You let out a gasp, hitting his chest playfully, earning a breathy chuckle from the shadowsinger.

"You can't do careless stuff like that; you have children now", you muttered, your eyes darting toward the bed. Azriel's eyes followed suit, "I do, don't I?" Pride filled his chest at the thought of stepping into a fatherly role for these two. Of having his family. His little world. One he had dreamed of. Begged for. Had even come to terms with never having one.

"You know", Azriel turned back to you, brushing some of the hair away from your face. "One night in the cell, after a beating my father gave me, I crawled towards the crack in the wall, my only window to the outside world", your hands gripped Azriel's leathers tighter. Heart aching at his words. The spymaster brushed his palm over your cheek, and you instantly leaned into his touch as you looked up at him, only to find Azriel's eyes glassy as well. "A light breeze hit my face. I haven't felt the touch of wind for years at that point", Azriel bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his tears at bay for just a bit longer. Just until he pulled these words from the depths of his heart, "So familiar that touch felt, and I knew even back then that one day my mate was going to be as pretty as the wind. Like the wind that called for me that night", the least part felt breathy, and Azriel's voice cracked ever so slightly. All doubts and fears died out. You two had chosen to stand completely bare in front of one another. Deepest wounds on the show. Pain hidden away for centuries was been bleeding out. But neither of you backed away from one another. The uglier it got, the stronger you held one another. "I'll never stop calling out for you", you muttered, stepping on your tippy toes so you could wrap your arms around Azriel's neck. "I want to try this with you. I want to see what being yours looks like", you breathed out right by Azriel's lips. The spymaster pulled you closer to him by your hips like he always did, "Then I'm more than willing to give you my forever".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x oc #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar imagine

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luveline · 1 year ago

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hiii!! i saw that you wanted some roan & eddie & reader requests sooo,, becuase barbie is trending so muchh i was wondering if you could write reader watching roan play with her barbies and instantly taken back to her childhood and getting very emotional ??

i mean its whats happening to me being reminded how much ive grown and how much effect those dolls had on me soo yeah 😭

tysm ♡ eddie and roan

A long, creaking squeal sounds from Roan when you come home. Eddie plugs his ears, knowing exactly what it is you have in the huge plastic bag at your waist —Roan's special treats, as previously discussed, for being such a lovely girl lately.

It might be a silly thing to treat her for, but she deserves toys before any amazing behaviour, and you have the extra money to buy them. Why shouldn't she get them? You and Eddie chatted some while you were at work that morning, trying to choose what toys to get.

"I haven't bought her toys by myself since we first met, what if I pick something crappy?" you'd worried.

Eddie gave it a little bit of thought, hand twined in the curling wire of the telephone, slouched as he usually does against the back wall of the shop. "Hey, she hasn't had any new dolls since Christmas. They'd go over nicely. Or she always likes a new dress. I'm sure you'll find something when you're there. You can get me something fun at the same time if you want."

You'd laughed at his joke and, if the light in your eyes now is anything to go off of, managed to find some presents you're happy with.

"Naddy's Toy Emporium!?" Roan shouts, rocketing off of the couch where she'd been standing waiting for you.

You've a nightly routine, hugging her when you come home like your life depends on it, but clearly Roan has decided the hug can wait. For once, Eddie's finished dinner before you're return, so he has a good seat on the couch to watch everything unfold.

You let her grab the bag's sides but lift it a touch when she tries to take it. "Hey, they're for you, I promise, but let's come inside and put them on the table!"

Roan squeals and knocks into Eddie's knees. He sits up and grabs her gently by the waist, hoisting her onto his lap. You sit on the couch cushion trampled flat by Roan's feet, pulling the play table where she likes to eat her snacks closer.

"Are you doing the speech?" you ask Eddie, putting down the bag.

He grins. "Ro," he begins, turning skewiff, her back to the couch to allow you both a great view of her face, "you've been a really good girl, lately. Do you know that? You've been eating all your dinner, no tantrums before school, and now you're even starting to help clean up around the house. So me and Y/N just want you to know how proud we are and how awesome we think you are."

"And we think all this awesome deserves some presents because we love you," you say. "Do you want the smallest or the biggest one first?"

There's lots of nice presents. You've stayed within the confines of the agreed budget, which is a feat for you (as you love to spoil her). There's five new barbies, one of which comes with a car, and the other a puppy dog. They have clothes, accessories, and an abundance of plastic he needs to cut away with scissors. His hand is welted red by the time he's through.

You also bought her a glittery lip gloss to replace the one she lost a few weeks ago. The proof of it sparkles on your cheek and Eddie's, twin thank yous.

You go quiet as Roan retreats to her satin princess tent, driving the pink corvette back and forth as she makes the barbies talk to one another.

"You okay?" he asks. You'd been wearing this huge smile for the last twenty minutes and now it's gone, he hates it. "I've been thinking maybe you deserve something nice, too."

You smile weakly. Okay, so you're not wanting anything.

"Dinner should be ready soon."

"Thanks, Eddie."

He gives up. He's about as subtle as a feather boa and you love him that way, drifting down toward your arm, his face smashing into your shoulder. "What's wrong?"

You put your head atop his. "Well, I'm just thinking."

"I may not look like it, but I think too, occasionally. Share with me."

You push his arm until he sits up and sinks down into his side instead. Eddie supposes you're allowed, even if usually he'd call it sexist or selfish. "I had a lot of fun picking those out today, and I kept thinking about the look on her face…"

Eddie hums to show he's listening. Kisses the top of your head 'cos he can. "Yeah?"

"I just remembered being her age. Do you remember wanting something really badly? There was something so nice about getting to grab a kart and– and to just stand there debating which ones to get."

Eddie toys with your pinky finger. "That's not everything, is it?"

Your smile presses against his arm, a deep emotion in your voice that's hard to pin. "Watching her makes me remember. Being a kid, playing make believe. I'll never be that young ever again, and there's no way to go back. But I," —you take in a steadying breath— "don't mind. I love seeing her so happy."

He intertwines your fingers between his, shorter and a little bit softer than his. He soaks in your presence for a moment, the smell of you, your tiny sounds, the secret you've shared with him. You're a mixture of sad and happy. He's not sure which one overpowers which, only that they're hitting you hard.

"There's lots of cool shit that comes with being a parent. You know the best one?" he asks you, raising his eyebrows at you with a fondness lining his lips.

"No?"

"You can play games without anyone judging you. I know it's not the same as being a kid again, but it's close."

"Yeah?" you ask, sitting up. "You'll come play too, right?"

Eddie casts his gaze to his daughter where she chit chats on the floor. "Hey, Roanie? Can we come play with you?"

Roan is almost as pleased as when she first laid eyes on her treasure trove of dolls.

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thatweirdbitchjax · 3 months ago

Text

Dear Angel

Slashers x Angel!Reader

Art:

• Oh look an Angel :) *breaks your wings* Oops 🤷‍♂️

• I'm being serious, he's tried breaking your wings before

• ^He's also tried poking the eyes off of your rings before too :(

• Probably the worst person to be with if your an angel

• He's always had this weird fascination with just *snap* killing an angel

• Chances are, he's just using you to get his sick desires and dreams fulfilled

• ^Truth hurts buddy, I'm sorry

Bubba:

• This darling baby

• He's lowkey kinda freaked out by your angel form

• He thinks you have too many eyes :(

• He loves the feeling of your wings tho

• He'll often run up to you after finishing his chores just to cuddle with you and feel your wings wrap around him

• Doesn't understand how he ever slept without you, and you don't understand how he sleeps with you

• Fr, cause between the heavenly light, and the insane heat that radiates off your body at night, it's a wonder he can sleep at all

• ^Especially when he uses your wings as a blanket

• It's a wonder how this man hasn't died of a heatstroke yet

Nubbins:

• He likes plucking your feathers

• Especially since he knows you can grow more back, he just plucks your feathers

• ^He uses them to make bracelets and necklaces

• He also really likes your wings

• If he's feeling antsy, he'll run up to you and hug you

• ^He does this so he can fiddle with your wings

• He tends to call you a flashlight

• He makes you go hitchhiking with him so that just incase y'all can't catch a ride before night falls (which happens often) he can still see, even when the moon isn't out

• He's not necessarily freaked out by your angel form, more so that he doesn't know which eye to look at

• It's fr like the scene from Moana

• "What are you doing, in the realm, of the Mon- pick an eye babe, I can't focus on what I'm saying if you don't- Yeah, pick one- PICK ONE."

• Honestly can't believe that you're an angel

• Calls you his angel a lot, then remembers that you are a literal angel lol

Chop-Top:

• Another boi who's obsessed with your wings

• He feels safe when you wrap your wings around him cause he knows that he is probably the only person in the world to ACTUALLY be wrapped in an angels wings

• He knows that due to your naturally caring nature, he can run up to you at any point in time that he is having a flash back for comfort

• He often gets ptsd when he's in the dark for too long, so the heavenly light that radiates off your skin is very helpful

• ^He's afraid that there is someone lurking in the darkness that wants to hurt him (me too babe, me too💔)

• Often finds himself lost in your many, MANY eyes

Drayton:

• He often has you helping around the outside of the house after bad storms

• Your eyes can catch him off guard sometimes

• If you try and hug him, he'll tell you it's too damn hot for all that

• ^If it gets cold tho (rarely) he'll instinctively curl up to the living furnace that sleeps in his bed (you)

• Wrap your arms and wings around him while he's cooking

• ^Just trust me on this, he loves it

• ^^He may act like he hates it and he's only doing it for you, but he loves it, trust

• If y'all are both just sitting at the gas station, he'll just sit there and stare into your eyes for hours

• ^He'll pretend like he wasn't if you catch him

Bo:

• He acts like he's the catch of the season, like your the one who's lucky to be with him

• ^He knows that he's truly the one that's lucky tho

• Compliments your eyes

• ^And I mean hes using shit like "Magnificent," "Glorious," "Enchanting," he likes using shit with syllables

• Sometimes, he just wants to curl up in your arms and go to sleep, but he'd never let you know that

• ^He'll kill me if he finds out I said this, don't tell him please

• The only time you will actually catch him being sweet and talking about how lucky he is to have you is when he is like half asleep, laying in bed, and fiddling with your wings

• He does love you a lot, he just doesn't really know how to show it

Vincent:

• He loves everything about you

• Please let him paint your wings

• ^He'll paint every feather a different style or color

• He also loves painting you often as well

• ^Mostly because it's fun trying to get the color of your eyes perfect, especially since they are often changing, and so does both your angelic form and your human form

• ^^There is just always something new to draw on you

• He also loves you hugging up to him

• Yeah it is hella warm in the basement, but he'll survive a little more heat for the sake of feeling an adorable angel curled up to him

• Gets lost in your eyes often

• Actually starts going to bed kinda early for the sake of being around you

• He's painted multiple of your eyes and made necklaces and bracelets out of them to wear

• ^I don't personally think he wears much jewelry unless it has to do with you

Lester:

• Another sweet baby that just loves you so much

• He feels like he's the luckiest man in the world to have you (cause he is, angel or no, you're amazing)

• He's obsessed with the feeling of your wings on his face, he just can't get over it

• He does have a hard time sleeping at night with how bright your skin is, but you eventually learn how to control how bright it is, and everyone is happy :)

• He gets kinda confused on your anatomy sometimes, cause where is your brain?!

• He thinks your eyes are beautiful, no matter what color or shade they may be that day, he finds himself lost in them constantly

Otis:

• Not the best person to be with, but certainly not the worst

• If you weren't a fallen angel already, you will be when he's done with you

• He has a corruption kink and you can't tell me otherwise

• ^So having a cute (biblically accurate) angel to do whatever he wants with is like a field day for him

• He tries to learn about your anatomy so he knows what will kill you and what won't

• ^He's shocked to say the least when he finds out you can't die

• He's worried something might happen that causes you to turn against him

• ^He won't let you know that though

• He often enjoys painting you in different poses

• ^It's fun for you too since they aren't all sexual

• He tries his best to act annoyed when you curl up to him and wrap your wings around him at night

• ^He does get annoyed at how bright your skin is and how warm you are sometimes tho

• He has tried once or twice to teach you how to not care, but ultimately failed :[

Foxy:

• You... You have wings?

• WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY EYES!?!?

• I'm just kidding

• He loves you he's just confused on why you're with him of all people

• ^Especially if you know what he does

• Another soft boi

• He just wants to hold you or be held while you wrap your wings around both of your bodies

• He never misses a cuddle session

• ^One of the only times he'll tell Otis that he can't go with him

• The heavenly light that radiates off of you, can be a little much

• ^Especially if he's waking up in the middle of the night to go piss

• He freaked the fuck out the first time you showed him your angelic form

• After a while tho, he got used to it and has since tried to memorize the color of every single one of your eyes

Mama:

• She for sure calls you her little angel

• She wants you to keep your innocence for as long as possible

• ^Which isn't very long if you count the house you're living in

• Gets you to hang out with Baby when she's busy doing something

• She loves how warm you are, especially when she's on her period, for cramps

• ^Plus, you get to cuddle her, it's a win win scenario

• She gets you to fly her around sometimes

• ^Just around the property, nothing too long, just so she can get some fresh air

• If you're a fast flier, she sends you out to catch runaway victims

• She wears a sleeping mask to bed, so you don't really have to worry about the light as it's just a soft glow

• She's tried to talk to you about when she and everyone else dies

• ^Don't tell her tho, she'll try to stop it from happening which will break time as we know it 😬

Captain Spaulding:

• "Sure hope eating chicken wings in front of you ain't offensive."

• ^He says this everytime, no matter how many times you tell him that there is a difference between chicken wings and angel wings

• I wouldn't just run up to him and hug him, he might attack you if he doesn't know that it's you

• He's tried to convince you to act like a hawk and keep a watchful eye out for cops just in case

• Keeps you away from Otis

• Likes looking at your eyes but won't admit it

• Doesn't find your angel form unsettling at all

• ^He's one of those people (like me) who are comforted by disturbing art

• ^^He's called you a piece of art before too lol

RJ:

• This sweet boy

• He tries keeping you away from the whole family

• ^He wants his angel to himself

• I personally headcannon that this man doodles in his free time and dabbles in sculpting

• ^Say what you want, I think he enjoys it when he's not working on cars and stuff

• But anyways, he likes sculpting you in your angel form, calling you a work of art

• He likes fiddling with your wings too, just messing around with your feathers

• ^He's carefuller than the others tho, making sure he doesn't accidentally pluck any

• He'll help you pick rocks and debris and stuff out of your wings if you want it

• He's a very light sleeper (when he sleeps) so your heavenly glow wakes him up sometimes

• ^He eventually learns to tune out the light and focus on your warmth instead, it helps him sleep a lot better than he did before

Baby:

• Tries making necklaces and bracelets out of your baby feathers since they're so soft

• ^Only fails because of how thin and flimsy the part that was in your wings is

• Another one that really loves the feeling of your wings around them

• Really likes trailing her fingers through your feathers just to see that little shiver that trails up your spine

• She's tried counting all of your eyes, but ultimately gave up at thirty

• ^She didn't believe you when you told her you had an infinite amount of eyes

• She doesn't understand how something so unsettling can be so adorable at the same time

• ^Talking about your rings

• If you are a fallen angel, she likes your black wings and the small scars you received from being casted out of heaven

• ^If you're not, and are instead just her guardian angel, she loves how your wings are so white they glow

• She doesn't get all that annoyed when your skin glows in the middle of the night as she has come to realize it only happens when you're happy :)

• ^She could however live without the crippling heat that radiates off you

• ^^Unless she's on her period of course, then she's like Mama

Tiny:

• This poor baby

• He just loves it when you hold him

• Wrapping your wings around him makes him feel safe

• He loves sitting in the basement with you after dinner just laying down and being held by each other

• Tries to keep you away from Otis

• ^He doesn't like Otis

• If you call him handsome he'll actually believe it, cause an angel said it

• ^And angel's can't lie, right?

• He's scared of the dark, so the heavenly glow that comes off your skin is like a night light to him

• He does get a little too hot sometimes tho, especially with the burns :(

• He hates hurting you

• ^Even if it's accidentally

• He hugged you a little too tight once and plucked one of your feathers, he couldn't even look at you for a week, he felt so guilty

Thomas:

• Luda approves immediately after you prove that you are an actual angel

• Hoyt tries (and fails) at hitting on you a few times

• Monty really couldn't care less

• Thomas is extra careful with you, afraid that if he accidentally hurt you, you'll never forgive him

• ^And even if you do, he'll never forgive himself:(

• He gently fiddles with the bottoms of your wings at dinner while you feed him

• ^Doesn't know that you can feel him doing it

• Loves looking at your eyes

• ^Especially at dinner where he can't get in trouble for slacking off to look at you

• Gets Luda to give you less chores so you can follow him around

• ^He does this by following you around like a lost puppy until she takes a handful of chores off your list

• ^^The reasoning behind this is so he can keep Hoyt off your back

• He's just a sweet baby

@puppet200 @purpleeggyboi @th3-r4t-48 @zeroisreallygood @im-a-simp898 @artsycrow46 @evry1h8s-me @aflairforthemelodramaticc @caretaleandotherstuff

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blueinkphantom · 1 month ago

Text

Goodnight Stories

Years after the prison break Technoblade and Dream lived together far away, healed and raised two kids together. One evening, they start telling bits of their life to their kids in the form of a fairy tale.

Story for Day 7 (Fairytale AU - healing) of the Christmas Dreamnoblade Event by @alterdnbweek. A bit late but i really wanted to finish this.

Also on Archive of our own.

"Once upon a time, there was a rabbit. The rabbit was a very social but lonely creature. It yearned for the company of others. Years went by as it hopped around, discovering new places and befriending other animals.

Overjoyed at its gained company, it made a burrow. A big burrow that could house all of its friends and more. At first, it was just them, eight friends who worked on improving their home. They built and hunted and joked around. Late at night, when the moon was high and their bodies grew too tired, they'd huddle together in one warm, soft pile of fur, limbs, and feathers.

The rabbit was happy with its friends. It invited more people, hoping to make more friends.

More space was carved out. More tunnels were dug out. Space was made bigger to fit the newcomers. While the rabbit worked to improve its home for everyone and as most animals enjoyed their time together, two animals created the first cracks. They stole other's possessions to retrade them. They claimed parts of what was home for everyone and made it only for themselves. The racoon and anteater had gathered wood and black stone to barricade others from entering at all.

Once news reached the rabbit, it was unhappy. It came to the two troublemakers and asked them to stop. They refused and lured more in and soon the rabbit's home was split into two sides. Those rallied against the rabbit, who got pulled in by the charm of the anteater, and those still by the rabbit's side, who wanted to help him stop the community from splitting apart.

Things spiralled. Fights became more regular. Actions more extreme.

Frightened and threatened and yearning for how things had been before, the rabbit with its wits made plans. With little regard for itself, it planned to get itself locked up. A false betrayal by the snow leopard was believed as real and successfully the rabbit found itself in another burrow guarded by another leopard. There it sat for months alone with few visits, fewer positive.

Until the duck came by. Longing for revenge and power and not feeling little, the duck would visit daily. It would paint the hole in red with the leopard's permission. Every day it would demand for a powerful item the rabbit had in its possession. Day after day until it was forgotten. Until it just wanted to feel the power over the rabbit which once possessed a grace and punch like few others.

But the duck was foolish, never learning from its past mistakes no matter how often they caught up to him. With the stolen voice of the prisoner, it lured in the pig that had allied with the rabbit before and which the duck was enemies with. It had planned to trap two at once but instead, it summoned its own downfall. Because the pig didn't aim to get locked in for long and it had friends to rely on. Friends who aided its escape. And the pig-"

"-came back to save the rabbit and they kissed and happy end," interrupted a high-pitched voice Techno's tale. Techno playfully glared at his older kid, Vivian. The kid just smiled back from their laid-down position on the bed before yawning. If it wasn't for the tired look in their eyes and the slower movements, Techno would have thought it to be a mocking yawn.

"Well, some tales are more complicated than that." Even simplified, it was sometimes complicated to tell. The number of times Techno had to stop himself from going into detail at different places was at least getting less frequent now.

A body leaned against his from behind, head leaning on his shoulder. "You were close but not exact," Dream spoke from beside him, volume kept low to fit the evening and not destroy Techno's eardrums. "The pig did come back and save the rabbit. But the kiss wasn't until later as the rabbit, despite its admiration for the pig, had grown distrustful of every other animal around it."

"Even the piggy?" their younger kid, Aurora asked.

"Even the pig. Many of its friends had left him with the most recent being the leopard that had let the duck in. He figured the pig wouldn't be much different."

"The leopard was its friend? And it kept him there?" A devastated expression sat on her face. "Why?"

Techno looked to Dream, letting him decide how to tell it.

"Well, the rabbit while planning had assigned it the role of guardian. And it kept that role even as the rabbit was the one it had to guard. It had believed itself to be tricked by the rabbit. Lies and truths got muddled." He drifted off and Techno didn't need to look to see the look on his face. Instead, he gave three taps on his arm that got returned.

"But the piggy came back, right?"

"Yes." Techno ruffled her hair. "Fortunately, the pig is not one to leave others behind. It's way too cool for lame stuff like that."

"Fortunately," Dream agreed, placing a kiss on Techno's cheek. "Though the rabbit and the pig separated again once both were outside. Each had different tasks assigned by themselves. It would take another few weeks till they came across each other again.

The burrow made by the bunny and its friend had collapsed while it was locked away. Most managed to escape and make new burrows and houses. The rabbit claimed the tunnels it had been trapped in for itself. It was secure. It was familiar. To some extent, it was the plan.

Despite its hideout where few suspected it, it never stayed for long. Restlessly moving on with its plan, never stopping till the task was accomplished." Dream had moved from behind Techno to next to their kids, holding Aurora's hand gently with a soft smile despite the current tone of the tale.

Techno continued. "A snowstorm raged over the lands when the rabbit and pig met again. Snow had fallen for hours. Still, the rabbit hopped on, mind set on its goal. It went on and on. Until finally, the weather caught up to it. Body frozen and energy gone, the bunny lay there, pushed past its limits for too long.

The pig found it there, covered in snow and barely breathing. Dragged onto its back, the pig brought the rabbit to its home.

It took hours to wake. Hours in which the pig took care of its wounds, provided warmth and made meals. Like a miracle, the bunny survived. It stayed with the pig for a few days. The days turned to weeks and after so many months, exhaustion was slowly catching up.

Time spent with the pig was warm, and pleasant even if at times annoying. The rabbit would sleep next to the pig in its bed until it was their bed. Despite the fear and anxiety, feelings blossomed and seemingly normal day, they kissed. It would be the first of many exchanged between them as they stayed together. And they lived happily ever after."

"I hope they're both safe," Aurora whispered sleepily into her panda plushie.

"They are. Safe and happy, sweetie." Dream kissed her forehead as he rose from the bed and moved to its other side to do the same to Vivian's as Techno just did.

"What if the other animals catch the rabbit again?" They asked brows furrowed in worry for what is an imaginary animal for them.

"Then the pig and its friends will ensure the rabbit stays with them." Techno pipped up from where he kissed Aurora's head.

Both kids were sleeping as Dream and Techno left the room, closing the door gently behind them. Some more things were prepared for the next time before they too went to bed exchanging one last kiss for the day.

#inkphantom.writing #dnbxmas24 #dreamnoblade

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zeroinetoheroine · 2 months ago

Text

A Song of Swan and Dragons

I cannot believe I'm writing another fanfic (PoW will be finished I promise!) but here we are.

This fic is the result of @lacebvnny and me RP-ing, and everything about OC (Arianne) and the plot can be credited to both of us. She has a few snippets written on her blog so check it out.

The story is safe for now, but it will get progressively darker. The warnings will be updated.

A Song of Swan and Dragons ch.1

Following Princess Rhaenyra as one of her ladies-in-waiting, Arianne Swann was woefully unprepared upon arriving at the Red Keep.

No scroll or tome could have captured the astounding amount of gossip that thrived within the Targaryen court. For a mere lady like her, it felt as though she had made a catastrophic blunder before even having the chance to place her pieces on the board.

Yet, if she allowed her heart to guide her—especially toward the man it had chosen—Arianne believed she could endure anything and emerge triumphant. Prince Jacaerys Velaryon would one day be king, and though her father often said that hope was a fool’s errand, she dared to dream she might one day be his queen.

If only his boor of an uncle would stop tormenting her.

I. Mēre (ao3)

II. Vōs, III. Hare

(personally, I find ao3 better to read, but the chapter 1 is here under the cut as well)

129 AC, King's Landing.

A moon before the matter of Driftmark’s inheritance was to be settled, Crown Princess Rhaenyra returned to the Red Keep— Accompanied by her consort and children, she sought to solidify her position as heir apparent and rally support for her son, Lucerys Velaryon, as the next Lord of the Tides. Her ladies-in-waiting traveled with her; the youngest among them was Arianne Swann, the only daughter of Lord Swann.

Too young to serve as a true confidante, the princess had the girl be a companion of her stepdaughters and sons, as Arianne was of valyrian descent through her infamous grandmother, the exiled princess Saera.

I. Mere

(Arianne)

“There you are, my lady.” Miriam fussed as soon as her lady appeared in the doorway. Arianne was still clad in her woolen frock and dark overcoat she arrived in, her thick, long hair in disarray. The ardous day allowed her maple-hued ringlets to free themselves from the confines of the braids.

“There is but little time to dress you for the feast!” The older woman’s eyebrows knitted together and she pointed towards the several different fabrics that lay draped over the bed. Most of them in Arianne’s house colors – black and white, representing the dual swans.

“I had to help Lady Celtigar settle the young princes,” Arianne sighed, unbuckling her overcoat. Her chamber was arranged simply enough, but thankfully, the bed appeared large and comfortable. Princess Rhaenyra left Dragonstone in quite a rush, and so did all of her ladies and staff.

Arianne packed most of her dresses, a few thin books she was allowed to snatch from the library, and her prized possession—a cyvasse set with lapis lazuli squares, Aunt Johanna’s gift for her ninth name day.

“Mayhaps the black one with the feathers?” Her maid crossed her arms, scrutinizing the dress with mild interest. It was ornate, but more importantly, proper and sensible – which was the most adequate thing for a lady to wear according to her mother and septa.

"I don’t wish to wear black though," Arianne pouted as Miriam held up the ornate gown. Although the black swan had been her house symbol – contrasting the white one, they were also quite reminiscent of her aunt, the black swan of Lys. Johanna hadn’t really been her aunt since she was her father’s cousin, and Arianne wasn’t really allowed to keep correspondence with her.

Father had almost broken her game set when he realized from whom it came – no daughter of his would fraternize with whores and other unsavory women. He’d kept that hatred ever since his own mother abandoned him to chase the indulgences and liberties Volantis offered.

'This is where my grandmother grew up…and yet the Red Keep shunned her,' Arianne thought while noticing the diaphanous, pale sleeve of the gown she loved.

Finely made white fabric was hard and costly to come by - as opposed to the ones they used for chemises and undergarments. As it stood, even she owned only one pristinely pressed white gown. It flared into a soft bluebell-like skirt from the girdled waist. The bottom of it was embroidered with pale marble-colored feathers. It had been another gift her aunt Johanna sent wrapped in silken cloth, a secret one, shared between herself, her maid, and her mother Lady Swann. If her father knew she was draping herself in gifts from the lyseni courtesan...oh she wouldn’t dare think of the grim consequences!

“The white one,” She exclaimed secure in the knowledge that it was Princess Rhaenyra she answered to now – and the crown princess was much more lax with rigid rules the septas touted while forcing her to embroider.

Miriam was busy examining a dark blue gown Arianne had yet to wear.

"You’ve worn the white one already, my lady."

She did indeed, the memory of her dear home igniting a pleasant sort of warmth beneath her sternum. Arianne donned the gown for her last name day - mother had called her the loveliest pearl above the ocean and told her the gown was lovely and to keep quiet about who'd gifted it to her.

"But that was in Stonehelm..." Arianne concluded. Shortly after her last name day, she arrived at Dragonstone for Princess Rhaenyra had accepted her father's request that Arianne join her ladies in waiting.

Though she had spent more time with her children these last few months.

Her stay this time had been vastly different from the visit years ago when all of them were children. Her father, ever wary of his valyrian kin, was anxious to meet his cousin once removed and heir to the throne.

Thus, young Arianne accompanied him...and made friends with the oldest Velaryon boy. They were the same age, only moons apart and he was kind - and so courteous, like knights from her favorite tales, her own Ser Galladon - and did not tease her for wanting to read or for demolishing his side in cyvasse.

How magnificent the library at Dragonstone had been in her child’s eyes. Jace, as he’d insisted she referred to him, laughed and told her the one at the Red Keep was larger.

She even wanted to stay, as in Stonehelm her only companion was her older brother, who often teased her relentlessly – simply because he was older, and a boy.

Jace even promised her that one day, when his mother was queen, he would ask her to let Arianne try to claim a dragon - the most coveted companion that was denied to her grandmother for her behavior.

"No one actually saw me in it here, so they won't gossip about the poor Swann girl reusing her festive dresses."

The truth was that she didn't want to wear black, and the pride in her house wouldn't let her go with blue. Her friend Princess Rhaena would be wearing the black and red colors of House Targaryen, and so would Princess Baela when she arrived with her grandmother from Driftmark. As would many more, she supposed - for this was Targaryen court.

Arianne wanted to impress Jace.

Perhaps if other people noticed her, he would cease to be so respectful and finally kiss her. Rhaena had told her how Baela kissed someone moons ago and described it as ‘delightful’.

But Jace hadn't...yet...

It was as if he forgot they promised to marry when they were little. He had to have forgotten a silly, child's words - because if he hadn't then what was he waiting to kiss her for? She was seven and ten already!

She would have to marry soon and it was Jacaerys Velaryon she had hoped would become her lord husband.

Miriam sighed and gave up, gathering the ivory dress into her hands to secure it over Arianne.

The neckline was perhaps a bit daring, but it was far from anything that could be considered improper. The sleeves were long and flouncy and Arianne loved that she could hide her fidgety and sweaty hands there.

After Miriam had painstakingly made her hair appear less like a wild nest and more like a soft waves cascading down her back with two neatly folded braids around the crown of her head - a style loved by her Princess Rhaenyra - Arianne went to find the rest of the entourage who would be following the heir apparent.

She ruminated over her decision to wear white when she saw the other ladies-in-waiting.

Her bright visage stuck out like a sore thumb. How was she supposed to pretend she could dance when people would notice the one person who wasn't favoring those dark, gloomy colors? If she made a fool out of herself -

Rhaena wore a beautiful, crimson gown - but she was Rhaena Targaryen, the Rouge Prince's daughter, she could wear anything she wanted.

Jace turned around and greeted her, his large brown eyes widening slightly at her figure. Oh, he was so princely, the thought flitted through her upon noticing his dark, lustrous curls. They appeared perfectly tousled, and so impossibly soft that she gained a completely preposterous ache – to run her fingers through them.

"You look lovely, Arianne." He smiled softly.

"Do remember to ask her for a dance this time around!" Thankfully Rhaena hit his arm so no one noticed the way Arianne's breath lodged inside her throat.

The young lady Swann felt her cheeks burn and suddenly she envisioned herself with very, very red skin. The sizzling pinpricks rolled down her cheeks and neck. She realized Jace was glancing at her décolleté and found herself wondering if it was too daring after all.

She wasn't like Rhaenyra, or Rhaena, or Baela. Oh, they could do as they pleased, royalty all of them - but for a mere lady like her, reputation was more important than life.

She was already nervous about being here, at the feast for the first time. Why would they hold a feast the same day the princess arrived? The Queen gave them no time to prepare properly!

Oh, and the Mother above knew Arianne needed preparation.

This wasn't Stonehelm or Dragonstone, this was...King's Landing, the Red Keep, and if she tripped and fell here like an idiot then -

Who would ever consider her a worthy wife for the heir to the Iron throne?

Not to mention, her grandmother was banished from this very same court.

She barely remembered some of the corridors, the last and only time she stepped her foot into the capital was when she was but a girl.

Arianne recalled her mother being angry at her for losing the handkerchief she got as a present, but Arianne gave it to a crying boy whose face had been bandaged. It was more polite than offering one of her own, as her needlework left much to be desired.

In his last letter, her father had implied Princess Rhaenyra was considering the union between their houses. It could only mean her and Jace.

The thought sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

‘Jace would be king one day, so his wife would be queen, would she not?’

The hall was splendidly lit, full of people who parted ways for them and Arianne was fascinated, walking behind the royal party - Rhaenya, Daemon, and their children. She knew in a month, Lord Vaemond Velaryon would arrive as well and there would be issues, but for now, everything appeared as she had imagined it.

The King was absent, due to his poor health, but the Queen Alicent was there. She would never admit it to a soul, due to the known animosity between the queen and her princess, but Arianne thought she looked perfectly regal and beautiful surrounded by her family.

She couldn't believe Queen Alicent had children older than her, for her figure was the epitome of elegance.

She didn't know any of them, but she knew their names - Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond and the queen had a daughter - Princess Helena. Prince Daeron was not present, and she had been told he was at Oldtown, with his great uncle Lord Hightower.

Arianne observed them from the cheerful crowd. She supposed the shorter one was Prince Aegon, as he had both eyes. His bearing wasn’t nearly as princely, at least compared to Jace, even if he possessed the light, silvery hair – a gift of his valyrian blood.

Prince Aegon was staring at his cup, swaying on his feet under the disapproving glare of his mother.

‘A prince and a dragonrider…yet he seems so sullen.’

The other one had to be Prince Aemond then - he was much more interesting to look at. He was taller and leaner than his older brother, dressed so impeccably in his Targaryen black leather - Arianne thought his countenance seemed quite regal.

She couldn't make out his face clearly from this distance, but she could discern the eyepatch and the long line down his right cheek. The story was very vivid in her mind ever since Jace had told it - filling her head with an image of a wicked, cruel boy who claimed Vhagar under the cover of the night.

' "He tried to kill me, so Luke -"

She gulped – her throat constricting tightly with fear.

The mere idea that this poised Targaryen prince tried to kill Jacaerys when they were boys was forcing the fine hairs on her arms upright.

Wasn't it pure luck that it wasn't Jacaerys who was hurt? Thankfully Prince Lucerys came to his defense and nothing happened to Jace, but his uncle had lost an eye. Aemond One-eye was how she’d heard his name in mentions during her stay on Dragonstone.

His hair, pale as moonlight, cascaded down his shoulders, long and silky and beautiful.

She had never seen a man with such hair. Prince Daemon wore it like that when he was young, or so the stories told.

"Are those your uncles, Jace?" She whispered when Jacaerys Velaryon abandoned his spot to offer her his arm. She touched the crook of his elbow a tad unsurely.

"The ones you told me about."

"They are," Jace shook his head before they were required to make their greetings. The air between the princess and the queen was as tense as a bowstring. Arianne realized the two factions in the dragon court were more than just gossip. This was a public contest, a competition of sorts to see who among the two most powerful women in the kingdoms had more clout.

She glanced towards the prince with the beautiful hair again and quicker than lightning regret flooded into her every bone, vein, and sinew -

because he was staring back at her.

Arianne wanted to hide behind Jace instantly. Prince Aemond saw her look at him and he was now looking at her and so..., so - sharply.

Like she'd done something wrong. As wrong as asking her septa about books other than The Seven-pointed star.

His sole eye was pale blue, a perfectly valyrian shade, and his skin was as smooth as porcelain.

And he appeared...disdainful.

She didn't know what possessed her to glance back at him briefly. Prince Aemond met her elusive eyes again and tilted his head, his countenance fixed into a glacier devoid of any warmth.

The young Swann girl had never met anyone who seemed to dislike her before she even said a word to them. She made sure to always be courteous and affable - to not give anyone the wrong idea that she carried a resemblance to her notorious grandmother.

Then he glanced at some point beneath her chin, trailing his gaze down her dress until it reached the floor where she stood—and Arianne felt a cold shiver of dread creep up her spine and surge through her palms.

She wiped them vehemently on the inside of her long sleeves.

Prince Aemond probably thought she was so rude for sticking out because he was again glaring at her.

She shouldn't have worn white - it drew too much attention, they will talk of her grandmother and she will embarrass her house and –

Mother, Mother above please be merciful to me.

Arianne couldn't even recall what it was that the queen and Princess Rhaenyra talked about but she was thankful to Mother, the Crone, and the Maiden when they returned to the other side of the great hall. She rarely prayed, often falling asleep while reading instead. Mayhaps, Prince Aemond could somehow discern that because his one eye could peer inside her head and he concluded she was a wicked, unruly girl.

Jace was whispering something about Balerion’s skull he wished to show to her but Arianne was too distracted cataloguing the variety of looks thrown their way.

One of the court ladies afforded her a disapproving frown and murmurs wrapped around her throat like vines. The more she moved, the tighter their hold.

"Princess Saera's granddaughter, no wonder she is wearing that -"

"She's a whor...you know, in Volantis."

Arianne glanced at Jace, wishing he would take her hand and let Vermax fly them away, just like he'd promised when they were children.

The night dragged on, long and tedious.

Although the tables were plied with succulent cuts of meat, fruits, cheeses, and stews, she could scarcely stomach a bite.

Jace rubbed the back of his neck after watching the various lords and ladies twirl around. " I should ask you for a dance, then."

Arianne paled.

"I would love to...but Jace, you know how I am...I'll trip."

‘And everyone will laugh...and deem me clumsy and unworthy of you...'

Her thoughts lingered on the frosty glare she'd somehow earned earlier from Jace's younger uncle.

She couldn't rationally conclude what possible reason a Targaryen prince had to dislike her so much, but she hadn't dared to even peep in the direction she thought Aemond One-Eye could be.

"I won't let you fall, my lady. Trust me?" Jace offered her his hand, his full lips curving into a reassuring smile.

(Aemond)

"And what -" Aegon slumped against his brother's shoulder, dark red liquid sloshing and spilling out of his cup. "Are you staring at the whole time? You're sober!"

Aemond shoved him away, wondering when was the last time the elder prince had a bath. To display himself so unseemly while their enemies were here.

His focus shifted back to the merry crowd, the muscle beneath his jaw ticking.

Aemond wasn't staring at anything. He was simply... observing their kin frolicking around, oblivious to the glaring, gaping wound growing each day: his father was dying, and someone would sit on the throne after him. But who?

And the kin he wouldn't want to be that someone seemed to have grown their household.

"Oh...." Aegon followed his look, ever so keen on morphing himself into Aemond’s personal nuisance when inebriated.

"A woman! Ser Criston-" He hiccuped.

"Pour me another one, my brother has remembered he has a cock!"

Aemond frowned, how grating his brother's voice sometimes was, especially when -

"Now we need to wonder if he remembers how to use a cock-"

"You shouldn't drink anymore, you look and sound a court's fool.” He sneered, irked that Aegon was not permitting him to think. His sole eye zeroed in on Jacaerys Strong and the woman on his arm, a comely figure adorned in ivory gown.

Aegon shrugged.

"Who is ah...that? She's fine I'd agree."

Aemond wasn't sure yet. But he found himself glancing at her ever so often. Her face was very lovely, with large eyes surrounded by lashes several shades darker than her hair. Her curls tumbled around her delicate shoulders like a river of molten mahogany – quite the task to follow them as they bounced and swayed with her movement.

He hadn't meant to look for so long but she was truly...inviting to look at.

Prince Aemond took a sip of his drink, and noted how his bastard nephew twirled her around - those white skirts flowing like flower petals.

What bothered him was that he had not known who she was and there she stood - in that disrespectful garment - with the bastard brood. Other ladies in waiting had stood behind, as they should, but she was next to the prince heir of bastards.

His mother would never have such blatant disregard for protocol.

Aemond was privy sometimes to what his grandsire and mother discussed - apparently Rhaenyra the whore was considering giving her eldest bastard's hand to a lady in stormlands. To ally herself there, as Lord Boros Baratheon wasn't as firmly on her side as she had thought.

"Lord Swann's only daughter." Criston Cole answered to Aegon and Aemond both.

"I do not remember her given name."

It finally dawned on Aemond and he scoffed. So she was pretty and mayhaps the future bastard's queen and also -

"She has valyrian blood." Aemond muttered more to himself than anything. She was the daughter of Saera Targaryen's only legitimate child. Fitting that a harlot like his sister would seek an alliance with a descendant of a most famous whore there was.

One-eyed prince found the idea disappointing for some elusive reason. How woeful that a woman possessing outwardly impeccable breeding – descending from Targaryen princess and the oldest family of the Marcher Lords, was truly the granddaughter of a Volantene madam poised to wed the bastard.

But at least he understood why her delicate face was so lovely — she was, at least partly, of the blood of the dragon. Yet, that riotous hair, as warm as caramelized chestnuts, cascaded down her back, the torrent of curls -

He thought of his mother's hair, frowning.

"Huh? Who cares about that you twat. Do you think our nephew has gotten there? He does look cunt-struck."

Aegon fell onto his chair laughing.

"If he hasn't, I cou-"

In a heartbeat, his perfectly spinning spectre of white garments and wild curls misstepped – graciously allowing Aemond to finally blink. She tripped into the bastard, or rather, collided with him. Lady Swann had found herself a breath away from falling onto the marble flooring.

How disgraceful.

"Oh seven take me-" Aegon continued to irritate his eardrums.

"Does she stumble into his bed like that too? Perhaps we ought to teach her, as a good kin does -"

Much to his chagrin, Jacaerys Velaryon prevented her from falling - Aemond would have relished that scene, the bastard and his inept little wife.

He observed how he gripped her sleeves, whispering something in her ear and smiling so stupidly while she seemed to extern considerable effort to remain calm.

The dismay suited her - wide eyes and slightly parted mouth - and Saera's granddaughter, if she was clumsy and simple as she seemed to be, ought to be dismayed. The Red Keep will consume her alive and grind her bones to dust.

Aemond could now focus on something else, undisturbed. Why did he waste that much time on that girl anyway? She was clearly as ill-suited as her grandmother was if she couldn't learn the steps to the easiest court dance.

He had never enjoyed dancing, but he knew all of them. It was required.

Not to mention, that dress - he could almost...practically see the tops of her breasts - the creamy, smooth skin between her shoulders. A vapid, stupid lady who wanted men's attention.

Why was he even looking at her?

He would no longer. She was wholly undeserving of it

(Arianne)

She tucked the strand of her hair behind her ear and twirled her earring. Her catapults advanced.

"I think your king is captured, my lord." Arianne placed her heavy horse between her dragon and the opposing tower and smiled. Their king was now stuck in a fork she'd created. A few murmurs surrounded their table but she tried her best to ignore the various timbres. She had almost cried twice already, so she wasn't going to risk it a third time.

Instead, Arianne focused on Jace, who stood near her with an indulgent smile on his face.

He seemed proud of her.

They had played countless times together on Dragonstone, and out of everyone she had won the most. Lady Elinda Massey told her she should let the prince win, for no man or boy liked it when a woman bested them. But Jace had never criticized her for it.

Quite the opposite - he joked that when he became a king she would plan his battle strategies. Arianne almost wanted to ask him if that meant he would wed her as they had promised but her insecurity kept her tongue safely behind her incisors.

"You play well, lady Swann." Lord Beesbury's cousin twice removed simply congratulated her and stood up. She wondered if Jace was trying to avoid playing Tyland Lannister when he offered her to play instead or was he trying to make her feel better after her disastrous dancing?

Arianne was exceptionally skilled at cyvasse. It pained her to admit she was plain awful at most dances, the rhythm eluded her, and the movement – oh she often wondered if a curse had been placed upon her legs sometime after her birth.

She had missed a step and nearly fell on her bottom.

If he hadn't caught her -

How mortifying!

Next, she played Lady Wylde - the current one, for Lord Wylde had already been married twice before. She wondered if Jace was bored just watching her play, but when she peered up at him he was observing the board deep in thought.

She had positioned her rabble on squares between two mountain tops, reinforced with her spearmen and an elephant. It was a much better tactical position than Lady Wylde’s dragon-led crossbowmen. The mountain tops prevented them from moving diagonally, while Arianne’s dragon was freed to advance into an attacking square.

"A very sound tactic, young lady." She smiled although her opponent wasn't that much older. Swann girl twirled her pearl earring before deciding just to kill the opposing king with her black dragon. Her own had been safe behind a catapult and heavy horse.

Arianne had won once more. She thought she was unusually lucky today - in cyvasse, at least – not so much with anything else.

"It is a shame men do not appreciate it when it comes from a woman's mind. "

Arianne glanced at her ebony dragon and repositioned the piece back at the start of the board. The lady had been kind to her and she was very thankful for it.

"Small-minded men," Jacaerys crossed his arms, his crimson red cape falling back.

" My mother will lead our armies when she's queen and I would let my wife one day do the same if she so wished."

Lady Wylde's mouth parted briefly before snapping shut again, and at the same time, a wave of pinpricks grazed down Arianne's neck.

'His wife? His future wife? What was Jace implying -'

She shot him a bewildered look as the murmurs slowly quieted. What would people think now? They weren't betrothed, but the way Jace had said it - everyone would think he meant her!

The encasing flush tickled her skin.

"Then we can hope Lady Arianne will be so lucky with her future husband." Her opponent squeezed her arm that rested near a board and departed - as if she understood her predicament.

"Is that his paramour?" Someone muttered just loud enough for Arianne to hear.

She froze.

Her eyes found Jace, and he had to have heard it too! But he merely frowned at the general direction from which the whispering came. Did they know? Who her grandmother was and now they thought she too was an ill-behaved woman. Seven -

Their ongoing competition had gathered quite a crowd. After Arianne defeated Lord Tyland everyone wanted to try their luck.

'Paramour? If people think that, then -'

Her reputation would be ruined and how would she explain that to her father? Brother? Mother?

They would be so disappointed. She suddenly felt suffocated by everyone surrounding them, even if they praised her skills in cyvasse she knew they were also not her friends, nor allies. Arianne was only now beginning to see how self-serving everyone at court was. If the tales of Saera's wanton granddaughter entertained them, they would tell them without any regard for decency or the girl's reputation.

Her palms perspirated awfully.

"The Red Keep got its new cyvasse champion! A very lovely one! A toast to your health, young lady!"

"You're brilliant, Arianne." Jace bent down to whisper in her ear.

"Did you have fun playing? We could go eat cakes."

Arianne nodded and took his offered arm. Her prince had been right to let her play – if only to distract her from ruminating on her misstep from earlier.

She had loved the game from the moment it was taught to her. Lord Swann would spend hours upon hours developing different positional play and when his son showed no interest, he contented himself to letting his daughter challenge him.

Truthfully, she had yet to win against her father but she had been besting most everyone else who casually enjoyed the game for a while now.

"Will the lady spare a few moments of her time to play against me?"

Arianne froze and turned her head.

It was him.

Jace's uncle, Aemond. The prince who had glared at her as if he wanted to strike her for offending all the seven gods.

Aemond emerged, the crowd parted for him and sat down, a ghost of a smirk etched upon his face. His cheekbones, his jaw, even his nose - Arianne had never seen someone look so sharp-edged before.

He was like a marble sculpture carefully cut.

Although the uncle wasn't as handsome as his nephew with a perfectly dashing face and curls - his visage had been marred by a large pink gash stretching from his forehead and down his cheek. Yet, he was imposing and so strangely alluring. Alarming. Like something dangerous and formidable and predatory.

His tone was serene - soft in a manner waves crash softly against the shore. The undercurrent dragging the unsuspecting below.

Her eyes flickered to Jace, hoping he would rescue her from this—she didn’t want to! The prince frightened her terribly!

"‘Hmmm,’ Aemond blinked a few times before, with a mocking grin, turning to Jacaerys.

'Does your—'”

He paused and young Swann girl had an inkling of the word he was about to use - paramour, or worse, a whore, or worse even than that, if such word existed -

But Aemond grinned even wider. " - lady, have permission to play one more game?"

At the same time, her prince hissed that Arianne did not need his permission, and she glowered. How could he all but say such a thing in the open court? Prince Aemond Targaryen didn't even know her.

"I will play." The words tumbled forth from her lips before she could ponder on them.

(Aemond)

How dared she draw all this attention?

Aemond tapped his fingers impatiently against the table, his irritation growing.

How did this clumsy granddaughter of a whore - a blight in his proud Targaryen ancestry - manage to be the talk of the evening? Was it that attire? Saera's notoriety? Being close to the future crown prince, should his whore-sister rule?

She was a good cyvasse player. He couldn't deny it much as he itched to.

After she demolished Lady Wylde's defences, Aemond loathed to admit he was intrigued.

When Aegon told him to come and see - his little wench - the younger prince was confused at first.

He didn't have a...wench.

Aemond was quite careful to avoid ladies at court. Most of them were frightened of his face and he had little interest in them anyway.

He knew he would marry soon and there was no point in forming a relationship that would only result in a court scandal.

He wasn't like Aegon; he was above such base stupidities. So he didn't have a paramour, a wench, a woman.

"You're good at cyvasse, aren’t you? Tyland was just telling me how outmaneuvered he was. He’s considering proposing to her—can you fucking imagine? Perhaps she wouldn’t die of boredom with you, unlike the others."

Aemond glanced at the little crowd playing cyvasse. He didn't know who his little wench was supposed to be, but there wasn't a lady at court he recalled being skilled enough to best Tyland.

He could see the top of Lady Wylde's hair and tried to remember which number wife she was.

" My mother will lead our armies when she's queen and I would let my wife one day do the same if she so wished." Rhaenyra's bastard's grating voice boomed. In his Keep.

Aemond would sooner plunge the realm into war than let that mongrel sit on the throne.

"Then we can hope Lady Arianne will be so lucky with her future husband."

Aemond halted.

Her.

It was her.

Arianne - he found out her name - had captured Lady Wylde's king and killed her jade-colored dragon.

Her hair fell in shiny waves down her back, framing that cosseted waist as she leaned forward above the board.

She smiled.

Something slashed the walls of his throat – like a rigged knife that hadn’t been properly sharpened.

"The Red Keep got its new cyvasse champion! A very lovely one! A toast to your health, young lady!"

Aemond was flabbergasted.

The court liked her. Her riotous hair and her overly daring attire and -

She was clearly at least somewhat intelligent to best Tyland at it. And others.

How many games in a row did she win?

Aemond couldn't accept it - there had to be some fatal flaw, something uncouth about her because bastards didn't deserve to have such beguiling paramours - something worse than just being clumsy – how could the bastard's whore be the court's darling? Were all these toads so simpleminded?

He thought for a moment how he should leave, what business this was of his? The bastards will be gone by the end of a month, one Driftmark seat short.

The one-eyed prince observed the lady - Arianne - place her black dragon and catapults into their starting positions.

One of her curls fell over her shoulder, and he followed it until it stopped just above her neckline.

He was the last man in this Keep to cast inappropriate glances at women's bosoms but he found himself wondering how hers looked like underneath that dress.

Round, firm, the perfect size for his palms -

He clenched his fingers.

This was unlike him. Lust was a weakness.

His ivory-clad wench offered her hand to Jacaerys Velaryon, and Aemond's eye twitched at the sight.

If she was indeed his nephew’s bedmate, surely she wouldn't mind satisfying the trueborn Targaryen prince.

Her harsh response - brows furrowing and her heart-shaped lips pressing into a tight line - ignited a flicker of doubt in Aemond about her alleged proclivities with the Strong whelp.

And he hated how his blood bloomed with contentment at the thought.

Her eyes were now on him and he realized they were so very green. Glittering with determination.

As green as his mother's beacon.

Almond-shaped and lovely, they stared back at him, firm with quiet resolve.

Green was, after all, his favorite color.

(Arianne)

Arianne was having fun.

Aemond made her think twice. She arranged her trebuchets adjacent to her rabble with her heavy horse defending. The catapult was her favorite piece so she placed it far back and let her dragon defend her king.

Jace hummed behind her, clearly agreeing with her defensive tactic.

It was sound, certainly, as she’d seen something similar in a scroll her father bought from a Volantene merchant.

Upon seeing the Prince’s pieces, her eyebrows drew together. Arianne pulled her spearmen back, deciding to see what he would do first.

The rest of the opponents she faced earlier followed a similarly structured play, which allowed her to outmaneuver them - she had spent hours upon hours playing her father and knew the middle-game well.

But not One-eyed Prince; he immediately attacked her rabble.

Aemond wasted no time.

She defended her left flank by placing an elephant diagonally across the trebuchet, humming thoughtfully.

Aemond curled his index finger, it hovered above his jade dragon.

She felt his gaze flicker to her face.

Arianne knew this was irksome for he clearly intended to remove her trebuchet from the board by blocking her with his dragon piece and attacking with the catapult.

However, his catapult was now pinned between the mountain and her elephant.

He could attack all he wanted, but she would keep avoiding battle until it angered him; then, she would have to use his mistakes.

Her orbs settled on him now that he was so near. Arianne observed the way his thin-pale eyebrow moved as he frowned.

Even with that deep gash splitting his right cheek in half, he was beautiful. Not like Jace, but differently, disconcertingly so. Like those valyrian dragonlords she read about.

He moved his heavy horse instead and then his sole eye zeroed in on her.

Aemond's gaze was so intense that Arianne thought he might be trying to kill her with it. How dare she meet him head-on? - It seemed to threaten her.

"Hmmm," His voice startled her.

It had a melodious tilt to it that was strangely pleasant.

"Will you just spend the entire game avoiding battle?"

She had to glance back up. Jace shifted on his feet.

"I haven't decided yet, Your Grace."

Well, it was the truth. Someone muttered something behind her and Arianne groaned inwardly.

Aemond moved his dragon again, trying to have one of her horses removed from the game. The sigh that escaped her lips as she accepted the exchange and discarded both their light horses from the board was barely audible.

"Will Your Grace just keep attacking?" She didn't know what possessed her to ask. He hadn't developed any of his defensive pieces. His jade king was simply placed behind the last mountain, as lonely as an island in the middle of the vast ocean.

"You do know how this game is won, lady -" The prince waited again. Arianne almost wanted to bristle and snort - he knew her name. He heard Jace say it! Was he pretending it was so unimportant or did he just want her to introduce herself again? Would she have to curtsy as well?

"Arianne."

"Arianne." The corner of Aemond's mouth quirked up. She hated how it sounded on his tongue, as if he was measuring each syllable for its worth, as if he was tasting whether her name was to his liking.

"I do know," Arianne muttered, avoiding his look and focusing on her figures. It wasn't like he was winning or pressing any advantage for now, he was just forcing them to destroy the pieces. The goal was to kill the enemy king, one could do that without wasting resources annihilating every opposing elephant, spearmen, and rabble.

"Perhaps you'd like to ask my nephew for help, lady Arianne. He is very strongly versed in tactics."

Before Jace could react, Arianne shook her head with a hint of reactive defiance in the motion.

"It wouldn't be fair. Besides," She dug her nails into her palms and forced her thundering pulse to slow.

She will not let him win because he frightened her.

"I am having fun."

Taking her trebuchet far back to bolster her king’s defense, Arianne smiled.

He didn’t know she could do this for literal hours.

(Aemond)

Aemond's expression darkened.

She was having fun?

'I pity any unfortunate wench forced to spend time with you as she'll throw herself from the Keep out of sheer boredom.'

'Boring, studious, exemplary Aemond.'

How Aegon had laughed at him, how they all did, bastards-

He couldn't remember ever having fun unless he was flying atop Vhagar.

Cyvasse was part of his studies, something he had to endure but never truly enjoyed. Even when he outmaneuvered his brother, his nephews, and even his teacher, they somehow still found ways to make jabs at his expense - You can only play with a dragon toy on a board, Aemond. I have a real one.

But he had to admit it was somewhat entertaining to chase her across the board.

Most of his opponents would sooner give up and engage.

"Will you say the same once you lose?" He had removed one of her crossbowmen from the game.

Arianne's laugh was making his fingers tingle - a cacophony of tiny, silver bells.

"Why wouldn't I? I do not always win," Her eyes held some sort of mirth - and Aemond wasn't sure if he wanted it to keep blossoming or quash it down.

"Contrary to the evidence from tonight."

Jacaerys Velaryon snorted.

Aemond pointedly ignored him.

"What about Your Grace?" Arianne lifted, her long curls spilling over her shoulder. Aemond decided he would not pay them any more attention because they distracted him.

"I do not play for fun," he remarked, not realizing how harsh his tone had become. "I play to win."

Her hand hesitated in placing her next piece.

"Do I bore you, Your Grace? I did win once because my opponent gave up." He peered at her and she seemed to be reminiscing.

"My brother got bored of trying to force my king to fight."

Aemond couldn't help but chuckle, despite himself

"Your brother lacked patience," He admonished.

"I do not."

Perhaps that wasn't the full truth for he harshly placed his catapult in front of the rabble closest to her king. Arianne simply moved her king away, opting to sacrifice her weakest pieces.

However, if he were to remove them she would have an opening to take his trebuchet, which was a far more valuable piece.

Aemond bit the inside of his cheek and relented, allowing her to escape unscathed.

How fucking infuriating that tilt of her mouth was, as if she was truly enjoying this childish hide and seek across the board. How fucking lovely - pillowy, pink, with a delicately shaped cupid's bow.

"For how long do you plan to do this?" Aemond forced out in his best attempt to hide impatience.

"Till' morning if I have to. Perhaps Your Grace would consider developing his side of the board so we could play nicely."

Aemond bristled.

"Perhaps the lady would consider trying to win instead of just avoiding defeat."

He forcefully showed his dragon in front of her elephant and removed it from the board.

Aemond noticed his mistake only when he’d already done it.

His heavy horse was now pinned, leaving him dangerously exposed!

If he moved it to safety, his king would be vulnerable to her black dragon—he could either lose the horse or, worse, compromise his king.

His fingers flexed.

He had to retreat his king to safety, sacrificing his heavy horse to the opposing dragon.

Her vibrant green eyes glittered with satisfaction.

Aemond felt the veins in his face throb, the fire licking at his temples. How dare this little descendant of a whore -

"Perhaps Your Grace would keep better watch over his horses?"

Was she mocking him?

The muscle in his jaw spasmed.

Oh the nerve -

"Your pieces will all be destroyed. I won't just kill your king," He snarled, as terrible wroth of embarrassment sloshed inside his stomach.

"My lady."

Her large, doe eyes widened.

"What has my kingdom done to earn such hatred from the Prince?"

Aemond glared at board then back at Arianne Swann.

He didn't know.

He hated how long her lashes were and how decisively she moved her game pieces, and how -

He wanted to win so badly. To have all her pieces toppled until she folded her king over herself and admitted he had been right.

Suddenly his mind was conjuring reveries where he was the most devastating opponent she ever had and would never be able to forget.

It wasn’t until his nephew cleared his throat that Aemond realized he wasn’t alone with her. Why would he even want to be alone with her, anyway?

But he was enjoying the game, and he would feel even better once he cracked that stupid tactic and won.

"Arianne, just engage his pieces." He noted the bastard putting his hand on her shoulder. A growing itch in his neck told him to cut his hand off.

"Don't you wish to go eat cake with me instead?"

"Oh," She glanced at the board before giving a small nod to Jace, clearly unfazed by Aemond's growing irritation.

No -

"You're right of course, Jace."

Why would she listen to the stupid fucking fool? She said she was having fun, just like he was.

Arianne moved her trebuchet against Aemond's jade dragon, shrugging, her neckline tempting his gaze despite his efforts to look away.

"Perhaps Your Grace will finally get what he's been hoping for."

The bastard nodded to himself, clearly pleased with her foolishly reckless move.

Why would she take his advice? His nephew had no clue about the game. He was atrocious at it.

Aemond could feel his blood boil.

(Arianne)

Arianne felt like she was in some sort of daze when Jace pulled her back from the brink.

Perhaps Prince Aemond wasn't that awful, at least not when he stubbornly tried to destroy her side of the board instead of simply killing her king.

His features didn't seem that frightening when he wasn't frowning.

She didn't want to engage all her catapults into attack positions but if she didn't this could last for hours. The moment her king moved forward, Aemond responded by placing his jade-dragon against it, blocking her move.

Arianne noticed he had beautiful hands. His long fingers easily enveloped the jade pieces.

"Fool's move," he hissed and she had to look up.

His fiery glare was set on her again.

Had she imagined he was civil towards her when they began to play? What had she done?

"But you are Saera's granddaughter," Aemond sneered, his nostrils flaring. "A fool if there ever was one. Banished from the King's Landing for..."

He left it hanging in the air, but everyone knew. And if anyone didn't know this about her, Aemond now made sure they did.

Arianne could practically feel the japes from around her.

"If Arianne is a fool what does that make the men that sit on the queen's council? She defeated quite a few of them." Jace bit back.

The Queen was Prince Aemond's mother.

It was an offense, no doubt.

"Ah," She sighed, rubbing her ear before quickly moving her dragon.

"The catapult, your grace." She indicated it was destroyed, hoping Aemond would return his hand to the board rather than where it now hovered - near a dagger at his waist.

Aemond bestowed his attention on her and seemed to observe her face for longer than it was considered appropriate. He blinked slowly, then a small, sardonic smile played at the corner of his mouth.

She hoped there wasn't something on her forehead.

His next move was predictable, so Arianne defended.

The game continued, and it seemed he countered every time she tried to retaliate. She placed her onyx dragon adjacent to her catapult, and the one-eyed prince moved as though he had already predicted it.

It was jarring.

Either he was a far better player than he let on or he was reading her thoughts!

Prince Aemond was terrifying enough...he couldn't be reading her thoughts, could he?

Arianne rubbed her pearl earring nervously and moved her black king to safety.

"Now you lost your most powerful piece." Aemond proclaimed coldly before kicking her dragon off the board.

How did he know what she -

"I happen to prefer my catapult." She hoped her pouting wasn't visible.

"Do not fret then, my lady. It will soon follow."

His visage morphed into one of complacent malice. Aemond leaned back in his chair, a truly sly grin playing on his lips as his fingers tapped the board lightly.

Arianne deflated, realizing her king was trapped. Unless he blundered, death in five moves would mean her defeat.

She moved her catapult but in vain, as somehow the Prince again realized she would try to go for his elephant. Four moves later it was over.

"Do not worry, Arianne. You played very well. Uncle Aemond is..." Jace squeezed her arm reassuringly.

"Obsessive in his studying."

She met his warm, dark eyes and smiled.

She did feel bad for losing. Perhaps she should write the game down and send a letter to her father, he’d know how to properly convert defense into open play.

It was a rather fun loss though, unlike her loss of balance – and she had tried so hard to grit her teeth and dance better, for Jace.

Arianne inspected the board once more - she had wasted half a night playing cyvasse already and she did want to try the sweets.

She attempted to smile politely at Prince Aemond, showing him she accepted the loss with all the grace a loser could muster. But she halted halfway—his mouth was set in a frightening glower, and his eye blazed with something malignant.

The twinge of apprehension coiled tightly around her ribs.

"I c-concede," she stammered, reaching to fold her king. But his hand was quicker, snatching it in his large palm.

The one-eyed prince slammed the figure against the board with unnecessary vehemence.

"A waste of my time," he hissed.

"Perhaps this teaches you it is bad manners for a woman to make such a spectacle of being slightly above average at play."

Her muscles locked.

A spectacle?

Bad mannered!?

Arianne blinked twice to dispel the itching in the corner of her eyes, but she was fairly certain he could notice. What a sore winner if she ever knew one. It was like he wanted to humiliate her and make her cry.

What could she have possibly done to him?

"I..." She peered down at her fallen king and her slain dragon.

"I was just..."

"Your manners are lacking, uncle." Jace helped her stand up.

Arianne was thankful his pace was brisk for she couldn't get soon enough from there. Now, everyone would think her not only clumsy and inept but presumptuous as well. How stupid she had been to imagine she could best a prince whom everyone praised for excelling at everything

(Aemond)

Aemond's mood was positively sour for the remainder of the night. The hour was growing late and various royal guests had begun to disperse.

He had won the cyvasse game.

All because she’d listened to the idiotic advice of her rumored paramour.

They could've still been playing if she stuck to her own gameplan and he wouldn't have to be forced to interact with various simple fools throughout the night.

Because she couldn't stop twirling her stupid earring.

Her stupid curls.

Her stupid, stupid, stupidly noticeable ivory dress. No matter where he looked, she seemed to command his attention, an unrelenting presence in the corner of his eye.

And yet when he had won and she -

Knocked over her king. For a fleeting moment, he thought she might cry—and to his surprise, the idea wasn’t as satisfying as he’d imagined

But how luminous and green her eyes were -

I concede -

To concede is to surrender, to yield.

He imagined her saying it to him in private, with no one else to hear.

His chambers, not hers – because he would have the door barred shut lest they get interrupted again.

She'd admit he won and sit on his bed and wait - wait for him, wait until he approached and took his spoils.

She'd be his paramour then.

Aemond groaned and downed his cup. He was on the verge of being drunk. He never allowed himself to indulge that much.

The realization struck him like a longsword—he wanted to take Arianne Swann to bed. And that was... a problem. More so if he was forced to interact with her for the next moon. If she was to stay with his half-sister's entourage.

Was she going to cry over losing? Would she cry if he took more from her?

Was she the bastard's lover?

What if she wasn't? What if she was untouched and waiting for him to take her?

Was she really going to cry from losing a stupid cyvasse game?

Unfortunately, Aemond wouldn't find out as she took his bastard nephew's hand and left.

She hadn't glanced in his direction once.

How dare she leave without his consent!? He had given no such permission.

Aemond tried to focus on remembering the lords who tried to speak to his mother and the ones who didn't -

He tried to keep an eye on Aegon.

Tried to focus on ladies he hadn't met, the sweetcakes and various fruits brought on golden platters - anything to keep his mind elsewhere.

Even tried to observe Daemon, the only real threat should the whore of Dragonstone insist on taking the crown his mother had clearly intended to put on Aegon’s head.

But his eye drifted back to Arianne Swann ever so often. His mind finally made the connection that had been eluding him. The black swan of Lys. While brushing up on his knowledge of Kingdom of the Three Daughters, he was rather chagrined to learn that Lyseni let themselves be ruled by a courtesan they enslaved to a pleasure garden years prior.

Aemond gripped his goblet tightly, as his lips parted in silent realization.

The abducted Westerosi noblewoman - the barbaric act that finally prompted the crown to act against the Triarchy - wasn’t she the kin to Lord Swann, hence the moniker?

Lady Arianne covered her mouth with her hand and her body shook, her curls bouncing from whatever it was that entertained her. Did she even notice the throng of men trailing after her as if she were a piece of sweet meat? Was she truly oblivious to how her dress clung to the curve of her waist—how it managed to be so indecently enticing while revealing nothing at all?

The neckline dipped to frame the delicate lines of her collarbones, ending just before revealing her womanly attributes.

She’s wearing that on purpose, Aemond concluded tartly. Saera’s granddaughter, kin to another famed harlot—was there a single decent woman in her wretched family?

So that was why she was grating on his mind, he bit the inside of his cheek in vexation – because clearly there was something nefarious about the women of her line that drew men in. Not him though, he wasn’t weak-minded like all these toads.

He could see right through her.

Her very presence was an affront—to the court, to him, to everything dignified.

What an utter shame for there were very few of them – those with the blood of the dragon - and to have it wasted on a vapid tart who warmed his bastard nephew’s bed.

A vapid tart, yet one who’d somehow managed to best Tyland at cyvasse.

Aemond took a sip from his goblet again, wondering where they carted Aegon off to before his eye inevitably stuck to the object of his ire again.

How disconcertingly pretty she was.

And what, pray tell, was she laughing about with those fools?

(Arianne)

Arianne covered her mouth and laughed at herself. They were competing who could eat more lemon-flavored cakes and although Prince Lucerys was in the lead, she was trailing right behind.

Her stumble during the twirl long forgotten, she visibly relaxed while listening to the rapt stories of her dragon-riding friends.

"Don't you ever wish you had one?" Rhaena elbowed her.

Huh?

"Um...I suppose not?" Arianne hesitated, trying to be tactful. It would be a lie that she never ever wished for a dragon of her own, but coveting it would be unseemly.

"I am not a Targaryen like you. Besides...they are frightening."

"Even Vermax?"

"Vermax only behaves because Jace tells him to." Arianne shrugged.

Rhaena snorted and drank her wine.

“Still, it is odd. Vermax is so prickly!” Lucerys shrugged. How nice that both he and Rhaena already knew they would be wed – they liked each other and it was leagues preferable to marrying a stranger. A fate that could still await Arianne.

She tried her best not to dwell on it but often her nightmares included her being given away to an old, mean, ugly lord that scarcely washed.

It was so unfair!

The lemon turned sour upon her tongue.

It could be worse, she supposed, there was a lady that would have to suffer being Prince Aemond’s wife. He was meaner than a Stranger.

"I wish I had one. It isn't fair. Vhagar was supposed to be mine." Princess Rhaena glowered. Following her gaze, Arianne noticed the one-eyed Targaryen staring intently at his plate.

She had heard this story several times by now.

"I hate him." Rhaena's frown deepened. "Vhagar was my mother's dragon, I was supposed -"

Arianne didn't know what to say, from what she had read the dragons chose their riders but she wouldn't want to upset her friend. It was still Prince Aemond who attacked other princes and princesses. And even more, she didn't ever want to say anything in defense of that malcontented boor.

"Is he mean to everyone then?" She asked instead.

Sensing the questioning glance the Targaryen princess threw her way, she explained. "He defeated me in cyvasse earlier and...well, he insulted me."

"Oh, that stupid twat." Rhaena snapped.

Arianne snorted.

Aemond Targaryen was a boor and a twat indeed.

"I am going to fraternize," Jace approached them, "with my mother's liege lords. Gods be good."

"I am going to retire before another moronic Hightower asks me to dance." Rhaena crossed her arms and turned on her heels, inviting Prince Lucerys to escort her.

"I should too, then." Arianne sighed. She's had enough disasters for one night. The Red Keep hadn't been the idyllic court she imagined it to be. If she ever truly became Jace's queen she would rather make it nicer - with kind people and less gossip.

Jace's warm, brown eyes widened slightly.

"No, don't go yet. I just...I'll be done quickly and - I need to tell you something."

"Oh...alright." She acquiesced without putting up a fight.

But it wasn't alright, with Jace and Rhaena gone Arianne was left fidgeting with her sleeves. She tried to engage in a small talk with other stormlanders but the moment her grandmother was mentioned the murmurings pricked at her ability to do so.

Lady Broome was a cherry on top of her sour cake.

"If I had a daughter with certain...indecent predilections coming from her father's side, I would have whipped her within an inch of her life. You would be sewing and praying, not playing games. "

Arianne merely smiled and held her retort at bay. She gave up after that, deciding to leave and wait for Jace in the courtyard.

Swann girl walked around a few drunk knights that were lying on the stairs and sighed when she felt fresh air.

'I will not cry. I didn't do anything wrong.'

She had walked a little further away until she could see the sprawling town beneath the keep. How vast the settlement was, its lights spreading as far as she could see. Yet, Oldtown was even larger, though she had never been there.

Arianne leaned on a tree and observed the line of people carrying carts through the Keep's gates.

"What use is a daughter who does not know how to run a household and be a quiet wife to her lord husband?"

"Bringing unnecessary attention to yourself by playing games."

She gripped the sleeve so tightly that she almost tore it off. Princess Baela, from what Arianne had heard, had behaved ten times more scandalously than she, yet no one dared to mutter their discontent.

But she had a dragon and so did her father.

Arianne’s lungs filled with chilly air.

If she only had a dragon, a great, monstrous beast - like Balerion - she'd threaten them to stop or else.

Or else I'll have my dragon roast you. Not that she'd ever do it, though. She’d once seen Vermax devour a lamb, and the sight had made her both retch and cry.

What did those old witches even know about her? She wished to slap them and declare that Jace was no mere lord, and she would not be some lord’s quiet wife. Jace would be King and she would be Queen and sit on his council. Then they'd hold their tongues, for Jace had Vermax, and as her lord husband, he'd frighten them for her.

"It is not wise to walk around alone at night." The voice startled her into jumping from her skin.

Arianne's neck cramped from how quickly she turned, alarmed by the silent approach.

"For a lady." Aemond clasped his hands behind his back.

Several moments passed before she recovered from her shock.

What was he doing here? Why was he here? To shove her off the edge until she fell and broke her skull on the cobblestone below?

"Y-your Grace." She did a quick curtsy before glancing around for any sign of Jace to rescue her as he did after a cyvasse game.

Aemond hummed to himself before he stepped forward. He hadn't come closer than a few paces from her, his angular face trained on the town. An errant shiver rolled down her backbone, not from any chill in the air, but from fear.

She was frightened of Aemond.

‘ Well, who wouldn’t be?’

The prince glanced at her after some time, his gaze slowly traveling lower.

"Are you not cold in that little dress?"

Arianne's eyelids fluttered several times. 'Little dress?'

The heat blossomed through her cheeks.

"No," she answered with a note of confusion in her tone.

"I rather prefer the cold."

King's Landing, unlike her home, lacked any wind. She was used to far worse weather.

Something passed over the one-eyed prince's face.

"A fortune then," he chuckled. "Your...friend is no true fire and blood. Nor salt and sea for that matter."

She pressed her lips tightly together as she instantly had an idea who he was referring to. It would seem the entire court thought her loose with her morals, and the realization stung. Arianne knew she would have to dispel such misconceptions if she ever hoped to marry her gallant prince.

Was that what he had implied? That Jace was a bastard and she...?

Jace was Laenor Velaryon's son. He was Princess Rhaenyra's heir.

"I truly am fortunate, your grace." It was hard to make the acid in her tone undiscernible. Arianne returned her attention to the people below, but she could feel his stare on the side of her face.

She wondered if walking away would be rude. Would she even dare? Did she need his permission? Technically, he was her sovereign.

Maybe if she remained quiet, the boredom would usher him away.

They stood in relative silence, the cheers and music from the hall still permeating the air before Aemond spoke again.

"I was perhaps harsh earlier," he cleared his throat.

Arianne felt her sinews coil in apprehension. Was he trying to talk to her?

"You...play well."

Her breath hitched.

What?

Her pulse fluttered nervously through her arteries, rushing so relentlessly her ears rang.

"T-thank you," She muttered, peering up at his expression. Was he jesting with her? Or was he serious?

The trepidation overwhelmed her.

"It certainly is an honor to hear that," Arianne fiddled with her sleeve. "When Your Grace is clearly the better player."

The compliment seemed to soften the harshest of lines adorning his face, yet he made no comment on it.

Aemond blinked and pored over something near her temples.

"Well, at least when we came to the endgame, all my attacks were predictable," she had started to ramble because his stare was making her dig her fingernails into her palms and shift the weight from one foot to the other.

"It is because you have a tell," he interrupted her offhandedly.

Arianne halted, offering him a questioning pout.

Aemond moved his arms, bringing one to the pommel of his knife while raising the other to touch his earlobe

"Before you move a piece into attacking position," he explained in a voice as soft as a pillow.

"You touch your earring."

'I...what?'

'Wait what?'

Arianne had to blink numerous times before she could think this through. She wasn't doing that, was she? She'd never noticed - and neither had anyone else.

Her hand shot up to twirl her pearl earring, and she paled, realizing he was right.

She tended to do that.

"I...well...h-how did you...I never realized..."

Something was flooding her cheeks and forehead - it wasn't frustration that was brimming under her skin the entire night - it was an embarrassment

Aemond hummed, the corner of his lips curving.

"I watched you play Lord Rosby and Lady Wylde ..."

'He was watching her?'

Arianne didn't know how to answer that. Why was he watching her and not the board?

Perhaps Prince Aemond realized she was struggling to formulate the sentence because he spoke again.

"Why did you abandon your tactic in favor of my nephew’s?”

Her eyes shifted towards his collar. The black of House Targaryen made a stark contrast against his pale skin.

Arianne tilted her chin up to better see his face. Seven above, he was tall.

"Well, it was taking a long time and...I had wanted to eat cakes with him. We were supposed to...do that." She wondered why his marble-like face hardened as she spoke – his jaw locked and his mouth settled into a frown.

Aemond flexed his fingers.

"What fucking foolish reason!" He scolded, his eye blazing with indignation.

Arianne took a step back, surprised at both his vocabulary and vehemence.

"Well...why did your grace help me with," - She touched her earring, - "this, if he thinks me a fool?"

His nostrils flared.

"I took pity!" His answer dripped venom and Arianne realized he was only pretending to be civil and she had been right - he hated her.

"We are family after all." the prince added with a hint of amusement.

'Family? Sure, his father was her grandmother's nephew but that was too distant a relation to-'

"I suppose -"

"Dragons are so...ah, generous with their family aren't they?" Aemond snarled, regarding her naive expression. "We welcome everyone, traitors, bastards, bastard's mistresses..."

Arianne stiffened.

Even him? Was this what everyone thought?

That she was Jace's paramour...that she lost her honor before marriage?

What will her parents think?

Much as she tried, she couldn't stop the itching in her eyes.

Targaryen Prince simply stared at her – the blue of his eye as turbulent as the most voracious of oceans.

Arianne wiped her cheeks when she felt the droplets.

She was crying. Crying.

She couldn't cry in front of Prince Aemond. He would humiliate her even further.

"I...I a-am not...and I would...like to leave now." Her line of vision fell to her feet and she willed them to move. Unfortunately, his long legs moved as well, blocking her path.

"I do not give you permission to leave, lady Swann." Aemond spat, forcing his arms to rest at his sides. His sole eye moved to map and catalog the wet trails left on her cheekbones.

'W-what?'

What was wrong with him? She was crying! It was common decency to allow a lady her dignity! From the moment she arrived, there was gossip about the debauched Prince Aegon and the dutiful, impeccable Prince Aemond, whose only fault was his missing eye. But she realized the Keep was as full of horse dung as the dirtiest stable in the Seven Kingdoms

He was the most ill-mannered boor she had ever had the misfortune to meet! How did no one else realize this?

Arianne glared up at him through her damp eyelashes.

"Your words offend me so I... please move-"

"Offend you?" Aemond sucked his bottom lip in and narrowed his eye.

"So you are not a mistress then? Perhaps like your grandmother, he pays for your company in gold. How much of the crown's coins does he spend to share your bed? More than your famous grandmother? Is he the only one -"

Before she could think her foot flew and hit him in the shin.

Aemond hissed but he didn't stumble.

"I AM NOT SHARING ANYONE'S BED!" Arianne screamed.

She yanked off both of her earrings and threw them at his head.

"How dare you insult me so? I haven't done anything to you! Yet, you state all these awful things about me when I haven't even had my first kiss. You judgmental, prejudiced twat!"

Arianne didn't wait for him to strike her head off, she ran past him. She ran until she reached the stairs and then she ran in the other direction until she was looking for her room.

She couldn't stop crying.

Miriam was sleeping when Arianne opened the door.

The young lady Swann had no heart to wake her and she didn't want to be interrogated about the worst night in her life.

She simply hugged her pillow and cried. She was dead. Tomorrow they would come for her and lead her before the Queen and she would sentence her to hanging for insulting and hitting Prince Aemond.

Not even Jace will be able to save her.

She had forgotten Jace wanted to tell her something.

That awful uncle of his!

The sweet embrace of sleep eluded Arianne for hours as she indulged in fantasies of setting her own dragon on that evil man. If she only had one, she’d let it devour him in one bite and she wouldn’t cry or retch.

She’d laugh.

Miriam woke her with a scolding.

"My lady, you should've woken me to prepare you for bed! How did you sleep in that corset?"

Arianne had a splintering headache.

Last night happened.

Oh, the Seven!

"D-did the guards ask for me?" The fearful tilt of her tone made Miriam frown.

"No," she eyed her lady suspiciously. "Why would they?"

Arianne breathed a relief. For now.

‘I kicked a Prince…’

Groaning, she buried her face into her pillow. She didn’t want to die! It wasn’t fair!

"Please get up and eat. I need to do your hair, it's completely knotted!"

"I am not leaving my room today," Arianne pouted. Perhaps if she never showed her face again, Prince Aemond would forget she existed?

"Oh...what happened last night? Did Prince Jacaerys kiss you?"

She winced.

Absolutely not.

"It was awful. I hate this place." Arianne muttered, taking a sip of water. She ate while Miriam fussed over the state of her dress.

"My lady, where are your earrings?" The question caught her unprepared and Arianne blanched.

"I...lost them."

"Both of them?" Miriam blinked several times.

I tossed them at that awful, awful -

"Yes." She pursed her lips and realized her appetite was missing.

The morning was uneventful. She had a bath and she and Miriam shared a meal later. Lady Massey informed her yesterday that she was to ensure Princess Rhaenyra’s things were put in order as these servants cannot be trusted for they are employed by the Queen.

The Swann girl hoped she wouldn’t have to scold too many of them.

Also, the younger princes needed to be taken to their lessons.

Arianne was still pretty upset but she tried to think about what Jace wanted to talk about. Her daydreams imagined him professing she was dear to his heart and -

her worst scenarios had him solemnly telling her that she was mistaken and he could never accept her for a wife. Not next to Princess Baela, not when Lord Paramount of Stormlands had four unwed daughters.

Miriam stood up because she heard a knock.

'Oh no.' She turned rigid. They were here to put her in chains. To have her arrested for capital transgression against the prince.

Aemond would have her executed.

Or Queen Alicent would.

"My lady, this is for you." Miriam was holding a small box and turning it around in her palm.

"Do you think prince -" Her other hand flew to her mouth to stifle the giggles.

"Just give me that!" Arianne scowled. She wasn't going to get excited over Jace's gift only for it to be from some lesser lord trying to marry her for her nice dowry.

Her fingers trembled as she opened it.

Arianne descended into shock.

Her pearl earrings.

What?

Was this another cruelty from One-eyed Prince?

Arianne put the box on the table and pulled a small piece of paper.

When she had read it she got up, tossed herself onto her bedding, and screamed into the pillow.

' Much as I appreciated your gift, Lady Arianne, I have no use for earrings. When we play cyvasse again and you win, you might be entitled to my forgiveness for the epithets you gave me. Should you lose, know that you would owe me twice, and I will not forget to collect your debt. Mayhaps you'll think of something of more value than jewelry—something of firsts.

My leg is completely fine, in case your ladyship was worried. – Aemond Targaryen.'

Seven hells take him, he hadn't forgotten about her.

"Miriam," she wailed. "I am not leaving these chambers until we are to return home."

Her maid crossed her arms disapprovingly.

“Well, must I remind your ladyship that you are to take the young princes to the maester for their lessons?”

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