#ballroom practice skirt

[venusdancewear]

Luxury Crepe Classical Ballroom/Smooth Skirt PF01006S Free Custom Size Free U.S. & International Shipping Order Now: https://venusdancewear.com/ballroom-dance-skirt/luxury-crepe-classical-ballroomsmooth-skirt-pf01006s

[fisheito]

this is what i was cookin up while on nu:vacation [avoiding event spoilers] my dream.....my hopes....... EVERYONE PUT ON THE PRINCESS GOWN🗡

[nikibogwater]

Actually while I'm thinking about it, I just wanna say that the more live-action remakes Disney shlups out like shoveled manure, the more amazed I am that Cinderella (2015) exists. It breaks literally every standard of Disney's LA remakes.

It's not a shot-for-shot remake of the original 1950 animated film, though it does include small references and homages to it, but only when such things can be incorporated organically into the story.

The creators understood and respected the cross-cultural significance of the Cinderella story. They didn't want to "fix" it, or add some wacky twist to it, they just wanted to make the best possible version of the Quintessential Cinderella that they could.

Everything that could be done practically was done practically. The carriage was a real, the horses pulling it were real, and all of the other animals (with the exception of the mice and lizards, since their performance was a lot more involved than the others') were real living animals, the lizard footman and goose carriage driver were wearing prosthetics instead of just having their animal features added in post, the Fairy Godmother's dress had little LED lights sewn into it so that it would actually glow for real, the ballroom set was built by hand and included real chandeliers with more than 2000 total candles that were all actually lit for the scene, and I could go on but you get the point.

There's a ton of attention paid to little details that make the world feel real and lived in. Ella's shoes are always a little scuffed and dirty. Her farm dress is faded and wrinkled. When she breaks down and runs away to the woods, she rides her horse bareback (which, once again, was a thing Lily James actually did, no stunt-double or editing in post), because not only is that something a country girl like her would know how to do, but it also makes sense that with as upset as she is, she wouldn't want to waste time with saddling the horse. When she's dancing with the prince, it's visually obvious that he is leading her and giving her cues because of course Ella wouldn't know the latest ballroom dances, and would need him to guide her through it.

Hey speaking of dancing, y'know what else this movie does that no other LA remake has been allowed to do (at least not to this extent)? ROMANCE. Land sakes alive, this is one of the most unabashedly and yet still tastefully romantic movies I've ever seen. Ella and Kit are just oozing romantic chemistry from the moment they lock eyes for the first time. It all comes down to the fact that these two characters both have the same core values of courage and kindness, which makes their admiration for each other feel grounded and believable. Richard Madden also really sells Kit's feelings for Ella with the way his eyes go all big and soft whenever he looks at her. And don't even get me started on Lily's performance as Ella. Her quiet awe that someone as powerful as the prince loves her. The timidity and fear that she's not really worthy of that. The selfless determination to protect him from her family's cruelty, even if it means she'll never see him again, I'm just-- *banging my fist against the table and screaming into a pillow*

Absolutely god-tier costume design. No notes, I think Sandy Powell's work speaks for itself. Btw, in case you were somehow still wondering, yes, Ella's ballgown is fully practical--those layers upon layers of dreamy silk skirts are real. CG was only used to brighten up the blue color to make her stand out from the crowd more.

Wicked stepmother was allowed to actually be wicked. The movie never tries to make you sympathize with Lady Tremaine, or shift the blame off to someone else. And her villainy is given an extra layer of depth with the reveal that she is a dark reflection of Ella. They've both lost people they loved, but where Ella refused to let her grief get in the way of kindness, Lady Tremaine became utterly consumed by it. She views the death of her first husband as a sort of twisted justification for pursuing all her worst impulses. She despises Ella for her ability to flourish even while enduring terrible suffering, for being everything Lady Tremaine was either unable or flat-out refused to be.

Also Cate Blanchet absolutely SLAYS in this role. Hands-down my favorite portrayal of the wicked stepmother character.

Anyways, TLDR: Cinderella (2015) is the only Disney live-action remake that can justify its own existence and that's because it actively defies everything the LA remakes are today.

[im-just-a-boy-guys]

Vampire husband <3 (AFAB!) reader/ Fill in any hair, race, or size. This is open and I can guarantee this dress would look amazing on anyone. especially for this wonderful vampire.

He left a note on our bedside table that you woke up to see, in his beautiful cursive he wrote,

"Good morning, my beloved. there's a gift for you in the wardrobe across from the bed. do your hair how you like, drip yourself in any diamonds you choose, and meet me in the ballroom."

You squeal excitedly and run to the wardrobe, practically tripping over yourself. You open the doors to see the most beautiful gown.

A white corset led into a full ballgown bottom, with the base color being white. Laid over the fabric of the skirt was a sheer piece of material adorned with at least one thousand white diamonds. The corset was also decorated with the same diamonds, but scattered wonderfully across the entire dress; were what appeared to be Blood spatters. However, upon further inspection, they turned out to be the most beautiful rubies. Attached to the corset's shoulders were shining, off-the-shoulder sleeves that sparkled in the light.

you call one of the maids to help you with the corset and adjust the dress to your liking. you thanked the maid and sent her away so you could do your hair in your favorite hairstyle, which also happened to drive your lover crazy on more than one occasion.

You do your best at a natural makeup look, your skin glowing after your moisturizer, though you lace your eyelids with a soft, but dark red shadow that compliments your skin tone, followed by a blush that has the same effect.

You deeply contour your neck to accentuate it and choose a simple diamond, teardrop-shaped necklace. This would hopefully draw more attention to your neck by covering it less.

After spraying his favorite perfume on your neck and slipping on your white, sparkly heels, you walked to the stairs from your room, already able to hear your lover's fingers gliding across the ivory keys of his piano. This makes your heart swell as you glide down the carpeted stairs. His delicate hearing picks up your footsteps and he stands, waving his hand to encourage the piano to keep playing with his magic.

With a soft wooshing sound, he meets you at the bottom of the stairs, standing behind you with his hand on the waist of your corset. His breath teases your sensitive neck as his eyes devour every inch of you.

"Hello, Mon cher, how beautiful you look in that gown astounds me. I knew you'd look radiant. Dance with me?"

You practically fawn against him as you turn around, your chest to his. You nod, speechless as he takes your hand and leads you into the middle of the giant black-marbled floor, golds dancing across the black. You lean your head back joyfully as you relax into the dance, and the ceiling above you is painted with heavenly depictions of cherubs, the architecture, and the chandelier a bright, shining gold.

your stomach spins with your feet as you two dance, your heart pounds and you laugh. Your husband gazes down at you with a fanged, gentle smile. You can see his gaze lingering on your neck. This causes a blush to spread across your cheeks, showing through your makeup. He lifts you to himself and holds you strongly around the waist. Your feet lift off the ground and he proceeds to keep dancing with you as he buries his face in your neck.

"You're always so warm, and you smell so good. Your scent hungers me- and I an hear your heart pounding darling..."

This makes your breathing hitch in your throat and you can feel his fangs grazing your skin, a soft wet spot gathering on your undergarments. He takes a deep, shaky breath against your neck and begs quietly.

"May I? Please? I'm starving for you."

He sets you down carefully and kneels to one knee, clutching at the overlapping fabrics of your dress and looking up at you with his bright, pleading eyes. you can't say no to him, breathing deeply and nodding.

He stands quickly and pulls you to him once more, sinking his fangs deeply into your flesh and drinking from you needily. His arms hold you strongly around your waist, keeping you from moving barely an inch. As he drinks from you, you can feel the dizziness flooding your head.

You're not sure how much time passes, but after a while, he gently pulls you into a bridal-style position, carries you up the stairs, and lays you gently in your shared bed.

Somehow, your dress had been removed and lay gently over a chair in the corner of the room. Your eyes opened to see your husband undressing himself, looking over at you with that wonderful soft smile of his. You always swooned when you saw it, giggling and hiding your face in your soft pillows. He walks over to you and lays behind you, spooning you softly.

"Come here, face me."

you do as he says, met with a rough kiss, his fangs digging into your lips softly. you moan quietly and drape a leg over his waist, intertwining your fingers into his hair. The vampire pulls you on top of him and pushes his tongue between your lips.

Your hips, as if on cue begin to move and grind desperately against his bulge. He gasps and takes hold of your hips with his long fingers, digging his claws into you. You could feel the wet spot on your panties begin to grow against him, moaning lewdly into his ear.

Even though you don't have his flesh-piercing fangs you bite softly against his cold neck, sucking softly. His skin is slightly more living-looking due to him recently feeding on you, a soft pink tinting his body. The blood quickly gathers at the spot as you began to suck, his groans filling your ears, giving you more pleasure and incentive to grind.

You move your hips faster and faster as a tingle swirls around your clit, finding yourself close to climax. His cock throbs softly beneath you, encouraging your movement.

"Ah- Beloved- you feel- amazing..."

He breathes into your ear as he grips your hips tighter, his nails drawing a little blood. both of you pant like dogs as you lean into each other, desperate to finish with each other. He reaches behind you rips the fabric away from your drenched hole, and tears off his own. He quickly shoved himself inside of you, causing you to whine out.

Your husband's eyes roll back into his head as he moves his hips rapidly against you, thrusting roughly against your walls. Your walls clench tightly against his length as your body refuses to hold its climax any longer you squirt over his lower half.

"Oh my- God yes!"

He pushes himself as far into you as he could and his cum fills you to the brim, surprisingly warm. You rest your head on his chest, your hair a mess and had come out of its hairstyle, frizzy in all directions. You and your husband laugh with each other as he cuddles you close.

After a while of cuddling, he helps you to your feet and leads you into your bathroom. He helps you into the tub and runs the warm tap, using a small glass to rinse you off before plugging the water. He smiled at you lovingly as he poured an almond milk bath into your bath water and lavender petals.

"I am so deeply in love with you."

He pampered you for the rest of the night, with face masks, lotions, and moisturizers. Anything to make you feel more comfortable. Then you had a glorious dinner full of all of your favorite foods.

[websterss]

RIGHT ON TIME — AZRIEL

SUMMARY: You held out hope for him, for Eris to show up even after he had shattered your heart. You held out hope...that he wouldn't leave you hanging in the center of the ballroom on your birthday of all days.

WARNING(S): angst and fluff

WORD COUNT: 4,464

PAIRING: Azriel x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you guys think! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

You were supposed to feel happy. You were supposed to feel happy, and he was supposed to have swept you off your feet tonight. Tonight - you just wanted tonight to feel magical and allow you to feel as great as you appeared before your friends and guests. It was your birthday after all.

Yet he didn't show and you were left to your vices. To fend for yourself in the middle of the ballroom. You swallowed down the knot forming in your throat harshly. Your eyes bounce off of each of your friends and family's faces. Rhysand had called for the first dance of the night. While he had offered his hand to you before you planted yourself dead center of the room, you had denied him, telling him you wanted to wait. Wait for him to arrive and extend his hand out for you to take, to waltz you into the first dance of the night, but that had been seven minutes ago, and Eris was nowhere to be seen. Your confidence was slowly withering away as your guests began to whisper amongst themselves, no doubt in pity for the high lord's sister whom no one wanted to offer up their hand.

There were no takers. No one with the courage to sweep Rhysand's little sister across the floor.

Let me be your first dance. Rhysand's voice echoes in your head. Your breath slightly hitches.

You could see the pity in everyone's eyes. Watching the sad little princess alone. You could hear their whispers and the hushed murmurs, and you hated it. You hated every single bit of it. It's your birthday, a special day, your special day - yet, he couldn't care enough to appear. You hated it. 

No. You swivel in place, the skirt of your gown swishly in your twirl. Am I that intimidating that no one will waltz with me? You echo back to Rhysand.

It is not you sis. You huff as you look at the males in attendance, you even meet eyes with some beautiful females in the crowd, but still, no takers. You thought you were doing great at staying composed, but were soon left stunned at Rhysand's next words. 

He won't come inside, Y/n.

What?

Azriel and Nesta are trying to convince him to enter, but he refuses. Refuses to ruin your special day. I'm sorry.

They had tried to get him in here, and he couldn't be convinced. He didn't want to ruin your night but that's exactly what was happening. He was ruining your special night. You didn't think it could be ruined but you hated this; you hated everyone's pity and their whispers. You would have waited forever if he just came inside, took you by the hand, and danced with you.

Your hands were sweating now. You blink back tears threatening to spill and ruin hours worth of Mor's and Nesta's work. Your fleeting eyes barely catch Nesta and Azriel coming back into the party. Azriel leaned over to whisper into Rhysand's ear. Rhysand's eyes immediately turn to yours with a sorrowful gaze. You could feel your heart tethering on the last stitch holding it together. If Eris ending two years' worth of your relationship wasn't enough, then his promise to be present for your first dance of the night and refusal to go through with it is the tipping point. You take deep inhales in hopes that it will help you compose yourself, you hardly catch Rhysand pushing through your walls again.

Allow me to be your first waltz. I promise I'm much more practiced than anybody in this court, plus I won't step on your toes like I'm sure some will. His attempt to make this situation light was nice, but it did nothing except make you anxious and feel naked. The pressure of everyone's eyes on you was finally getting to you.

It was all too much. Everything was too much and too quiet - the quartet waiting on Rhysand's cue to begin playing the minute you began swaying. Eris was supposed to be here, he had shown but couldn't even make it past the entrance. You could feel yourself begin to hyperventilate.

You had to find some way to gain courage. You swallowed hard against your bitter pain, and you held up your right hand, just begging for someone to take it.

Desperate measures called for desperate attempts. You couldn't care how bizarre the picture looked. You, holding your hand out when it should have been the other way around. You didn't care much for who took it, just so long as it was taken. You held your head high and chin up, mustering the best smile you could, and swiftly turned your hand outward towards your guests. Motioning to a few males, even a few females, who blushed against your offer, but no one would take your hand, not one. You could feel the sting pierce your chest as they all took hesitant steps back. Perhaps it was the pressure of being in the spotlight, yes - that was all it was, you entertained the thought.

Allow me to be your first waltz. Rhysand attempted again.

You had gone to deny Rhsyand on his offer once more but stilled when you turned around and were met with an extended hand.

See, a taker, at last. You spoke to Rhysand. However, your heart stopped as a familiar scarred hand came into your sight.

It took you only a fraction of a second to realize who the hand that finally answered your beckon belonged to. That hand, those fingers, the blue siphon, the scars you knew so well. You looked up to your mystery taker, shocked, surprised, stunned - speechless.

Azriel.

The relief crashed down over you, washing away all the resentment that had built up over those past few minutes of waiting for Eris. Never again, you promised yourself. Never again would you wait on someone who couldn't show their face and broke their word.

Azriel watched as the corner up your lips curled upwards, into a sweet broken smile he adored so much. He couldn't fight off his own as you trailed your eyes up the entirety of his black sleeve up to his eyes. It wasn't often you got to see him in formal attire. His dress shirt was unbuttoned from the first two, allowing peaks of his tattoos. Your eyes gleamed with unshed tears. You placed your hand in his and allowed him to lead you.

He didn't waste any time; he took your hand in his and quickly grabbed your waist, positioning both himself and yourself in a proper V pattern of an experienced dancer. Then he began to move, gracefully as though the two of you were flying around the ballroom. You both moved swiftly across the floor. Your friends and guests step further back to give you and the shadow singer more room. The females were enthralled by the swish and twirls of your skirts. The males teething with jealous remorse for not taking your hand. You had been twirling and spinning for two whole minutes before Rhysand snapped out of it and cued in the quartet.

The music was soothing yet uplifting. The violinist played to the feel-good of your movements rather than a particular song, watching and playing as your bodies glided. You were lost in the dance, the music only amplifying the soar of your heart, your soul entranced with the melody and his hazel eyes. You knew no one else but him. Everyone else was just a spectator. Everyone else was just background noise. It was just you and him, dancing gracefully around in a perfect circle. The hand resting on your hip felt secure and warm, the same hand that gave you all the safety and comfort you needed, the hand that offered itself to you to take. Azriel had made the ballroom floor your own little world.

You felt as though time had suddenly slowed. You could see everyone around staring, gawking, snarling in envy. He smiled, and you smiled, and those tears that had threatened to escape finally began to fall. You had felt a tug in your chest as he lifted you into the air and set you back down. It felt almost like - a snap.

The breath you exhaled after being spun and suspended in air - was shaky with the release of the tension between your bodies. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he brought you down to your feet again all the while your eyes were filled with the salty streams of joy that fell down your cheeks. It had been the bond. You shakingly brought your hands up to cup his cheeks. You breathed out a laugh, the corners of your eyes crinkling showcasing your joy, and disbelief.

Everyone around you blinded to what was going on between the two of you. Just you, and him, and the warmth of his hands as he led you into the final sway of your first dance of the night. As though he could sense the joy radiating off you, he brought your arm up and spun you around, letting you twirl out back into the center of the room where you started. Your chest rose and fell as you steadied yourself. You turned in place, your smile brightening as you followed Azriel's lead into a deep bow. Then stood to your full length.

It was just you and him.

You didn't notice that the music had died down until the room erupted into a series of claps and whistles. You placed a hand on your chest startled, but laughed out in surprise.

"My beautiful sister, everyone." He tipped his glass to you. You dipped your chin in acknowledgment. "You may take to the floor as you please now!" You had turned to look back at Azriel only to find him gone. You had twisted in place in the hope of catching sight of him, but to your luck, he was nowhere to be found. You had thanked guests who had come up to you, wished you the happiest of birthdays, and apologized for letting you stand alone for so long. You didn't care for the last part as you smiled and excused yourself from their greetings. You pushed past bodies, dodging, and moving smoothly past any and everyone in haste. You had to find him. You had practically run out of the room into the darkened halls. The pathways were illuminated by the moon, casting in through the opened arches. You sighed as you found yourself alone once more.

"Looking for someone?"

You froze, frozen in place by the sound of his voice. Your heart halted, only to beat a few seconds later with the anticipation of him. Your hands clasped together tightly. You let out a slow inhale before exhaling and turning around to face him. "Only you..." You muttered softly. You were afraid you were about to cry just at the sight of him - a tear slowly trickled down your cheek as you looked up to his face. "Just you..." Azriel was here, just as you had hoped. The moonlight bathed him in an otherworldly glow. He stood before you in the dim light, his siphons glinting against the white walls.

Your eyes locked on his, your pupils narrowing and the corners of your mouth twitching into a small smile. As your gaze traveled across his body. All this time, you were here, before me. You thought.

"Do you want to know a secret?" His question snaps you out of your thoughts. "I am more than certain that I missed a step." He gave a playful grimace. You had stopped, then tipped your head back in a laugh.

"You, on the other hand, are a marvelous dancer," Azriel said softly as he closed the distance between you. "You're beautiful when you dance." He took one of your hands into his own, and gently raised it to his lips, placing kisses on your knuckles.

"Only when I dance?" You teased. A playful glint in your eyes not getting past him.

"Beautiful every second." He confessed softly.

"What about every hour or minute, am I not beautiful then too?" Your light bubbles gave you away. Azriel couldn't fight off the smirk and roll of his eyes. You bit your lip playfully as you rolled your eyes back at him. "I'll agree. I am a marvelous dancer. My mother did see to it before she passed..." You paused, and then a devilish smile crossed your visage. "Am I beautiful while I eat?" You challenged. You tried hard to keep hold of your amusement.

"Every second." He repeated stubbornly. "Every minute, and every hour." Azriel took your other hand into his and lifted both of them to his lips this time. He slowly lowered your hands back down. "You are just as beautiful when you cry…" He sighed as he brushed them along your cheeks. "I believe no one else can bring out this beauty in you. You simply shine all on your own." He wiped another tear that fell down your cheek.

"But am I beautiful while I eat?" You didn't let up the teasing, even if your heart soared at his confession.

He smirked. "Yes, you are just as beautiful when you scarf down a piece of baked goods." He paused briefly as he tilted his head to the side. His fingers brushed against your cheek softly. "And in every moment, you are even more so," He said softly. Your breath hitched as you felt love and reassurance flow down to your end of the bond.

"It is you who I feel." You bubbled out a laugh, though your eyes continued to glisten with new unshed tears. "It's been you all along. I can't believe it. I thought it'd be Eris but it was you. It all makes sense, why I've always felt safe in your presence, why I've never shied from your proximity. It snapped for me Azriel...as we danced." Tears now spilled down your cheeks again. Azriel tried his best to wipe them away. You brought your hands up to wrap around his wrist as he held your face gently. "H-Has it snapped for you as well?" Your voice wavered with hope. Curiosity.

"It has..." Azriel stiffened but held a cool stature. He wasn't sure if he was caressing your cheeks to reassure you or to help himself keep calm.

"When?" You asked in need of knowing. When? He closed his eyes in dread. When? Of course, you would ask.

"It's uh - It's been two years Y/n." He slowly lowers his hands from your face.

"Two years, but that's how long Eris and I-" Azriel cut you off short.

"Do not even attempt to finish that sentence." He groaned softly. A deep, regretful sigh rumbled out of him. "Yes Y/n, it has been two years since it's snapped for me…" Tears fell onto both of your cheeks at that revelation. He looked away. "I have no explanation to offer you," He confessed. "I should have said something then, but I couldn't, not when you looked at him like he made up the stars in your night sky. I regret not telling you because I couldn't save you the heartache tonight. Seeing you stand there waiting, watching no one take your hand, it killed me. Gods, I nearly killed Eris myself when he showed up at the doors. He had made it this far, all he had to do was walk through the cauldron door! I wanted to punch him, Y/n. Punch him for all the hurt he caused you. I'm no different than him though. I could've saved you the pain too, but I was scared and I was stupid."

There was a long breath of silence between you as you tried to process his words, your lips pressed tightly together, your eyes widening the realization.

"Two years…" You mouthed, your throat feeling dry. You tried to swallow down the lump forming; it wouldn't budge. Your breathing was shallow and quickened as you blinked back tears.

"I know I'm nothing like Eris but-" Azriel began.

"Do not finish that sentence" Your brows furrowed together. "You are so much more than Eris."

"I am?" You couldn't fight it anymore, not at the mention of the other male with whom you have suffered greatly. Now, you were able to feel the fear reverberating through the bond that held Azriel back this entire time from telling you how he felt. That he was your mate. You had been so focused on your feelings towards Eris, that Azriel was willing to keep the bond hidden to not jeopardize your very own bond with the redhead. You finally realized that he was more than you could comprehend, and not only that - he was someone who put his heart at bay for the sake of your happiness.

"You are!" You exclaimed, reaching up to cup his face. Your lips quivered at the thought that he let you be happy with someone else for so long because he didn't want to mess things up. He didn't want to hurt you. "Cauldron, you are so much more. You are everything. Mother two years…you kept it a secret for two years." You caressed the spilled tears on his face away.

"You were happy…I couldn't take that from you." He pressed his head against yours. "It tore at me," Azriel gasped. His head inclined and eyes closed just the slightest bit as you touched him. "You were happy." His breath hitched as he exhaled. "I thought that if he was who you wanted, then so be it, that he could give you everything and more than I ever could. But the second I saw how he hurt you, how you were so miserable when he left you on the steps crying, how you still waited on him even after all he'd done- my heart broke for you. I hate that I let you suffer like that. I hate that you were so hurt you didn't let Rhysand dance with you, but then you took my hand and I thought I was seeing stars. Gods I was so scared when I took those first steps with you. I thought I was gonna faint, but I finally had you in my arms, and then you smiled at me and I was a done male. I was a done male who finally felt worthy enough of you because I got you to swing that gorgeous smile at me, and I've wanted nothing more than to be the center of your happiness."

"Two years Azriel!" You exclaimed. You pressed your palms against your head to help you calm down. Your heart was pounding against your chest.

"I know, I know!" He groaned, knowing he fucked up. "Don't I know it?"

"You made me wait two years." Your words came out in bits and pieces as your heart skipped several beats. The breath of silence between you felt like an eternity. You squeezed tight against his hands. Your gaze remained fixed on his eyes.

"Yeah well, I suffered for two years…" Azriel knew it wasn't fair to say, you had no clue.

"Because you didn't say anything!"

"It would've hurt you, knowing!" His voice rose. You turn your head, biting back a sob. "I was terrified of causing you pain! I didn't want to lose you by bringing up the bond in front of you and Eris. I didn't want to be a burden to you, be another heavy weight on your shoulders, a male making your happy relationship complicated." Azriel's fingers tightened around your hands as he took a deep breath. "Do you really think I could have told you back then? What if you didn't feel the same way? I couldn't go through that, I couldn't take the chance of you not wanting me. You rejecting the bond. It would have shattered me, Y/n. You don't know how often I sat in my room, thinking to myself, 'Cauldron, I need to grow a backbone. I need to just confess everything to her and get it over with.' But I never could. My chest felt locked every time I saw you laugh at something he said, to watch you kiss him. My throat would close at the thought of telling you how much I loved you."

"Loved?" Panic began to rise within your chest. That was past tense.

Azriel's lips began to tremble as his breath slowed itself. He was frozen in place by the utterance of the wrong tense of the word. His jaw locked and his eyes narrowed as his brows raised a fraction of an inch. You were the love of his life, and he had made you think he loved you, as in no more, instead of love you. You took a step back, fear overcoming all the anger and frustration that had just seconds ago taken over your body through the bond.

Azriel quickly corrected his wording. "Love. I meant to say, love." He rushed out with his words because he saw the color drain from your face. The look of sheer panic over your features made Azriel's heart falter. He had to reassure you immediately. "I love you. Present tense." He pressed his head against yours. You felt his relief echo through the bond. He didn't want you to think he'd fallen out of love with you, or that this was all an old love that had withered down into what it once was. No, that was not the case. The bond with you ran deeper than he could have imagined. This was his first time experiencing something so deep, something so intense, something so all-consuming.

"Mother I love you with my entirety." His thumb brushed along the vein of your wrist, his thumbprint resting softly against your pulse as he held you in place. "I've loved you even before the bond snapped for me." His voice was soft. His eyes still tearing up as he reached up to hold your face. "I never knew how much I could love someone until I met you. My best friend, the love of my life, my mate."

His gentle touch left goosebumps along the surface of your skin. Azriel's eyes remained locked on yours even as the tears trickled past his eyelashes. He wanted you to see how much he meant those words even though he had trouble finding them. You were it for him. You had been from the moment he'd first met you in Windhaven. He'd been blind to it then, his love for you, never truly knowing of its intensity, but now? Now he couldn't fathom how he ever denied his feelings towards you.

"My mate. My sweet beautiful mate." You breathed out a laugh. Azriel's chest rumbled with joy. Feeling your joy and love reside in him. "I know it wasn't fair to you to see me be with another. I'm sorry if I caused you any pain in my relationship with Eris. If I'd known, I would have put an end to it. You deserve the world Azriel. I'll spend my whole life giving it to you. You are enough, and you are everything, my love."

Azriel was speechless, the words spilling from your lips were beautiful. He loved your willingness to give it all to him, but he also loved the thought that you saw and considered him worthwhile enough to give him the world. His eyes widened as he took a deep breath, smiling at you as your words washed over him like honey. He took a slow inhale, taking in the smell of you—the faint scent of jasmine and flowers. Home.

You felt every bone in Azriel's body relax and exhale softly at such sweet, gentle, and encouraging words. He pulled you tighter against his chest and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "It's alright, you didn't know. There were so many things you didn't know." He dipped his chin and locked his eyes to yours, letting you know it was all okay. He wanted you to believe him, truly believe that you hadn't purposely hurt him when he saw you with another other male, you were just…innocent. Oblivious to the existing bond.

His thumb brushed against your bottom lip as his voice trembled. "Can I confess something else to you?" Azriel asked softly, hoping you could handle another revelation within these passing minutes.

"One more can't hurt." You beamed up at him.

Azriel laughed at your reply and squeezed you tight. He needed to hold onto you right at this moment or else the fear of you letting him go would overwhelm him. Azriel's eyes dropped to the side for a brief moment as he gathered enough courage to say what he needed to say. Then his hazel eyes met yours, and you were done for. "I'm gonna love you for the rest of my life."

"I'm okay with that…" You muttered softly, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal. The slight smirk appearing on your lips wasn't lost on him.

Azriel let out a laugh and smiled again. He didn't know how to describe the euphoria running through him just hearing those words come out of your mouth. He rushed forward, lifting you off the ground as he leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on your lips and pulled back, his breathing shaking with anticipation. It didn't take long for you to bring yours down on his, longer this time. You felt a laugh bubble out of you as he spun you both in place. You raked your hands through his locks before you finally settled them on his neck.

Azriel's mind clouded immediately at the memory of you standing in the middle of the ballroom alone. He was so consumed with his turmoil of trying to convince Eris to come inside…that he should've been there sooner. He let out a sigh as his head shook from side to side.

“Thank you, for saving me tonight.”

"There's nothing in this world that I wouldn't do for you." Azriel's eyes softened as he held you in his arms. Your legs hanging above the floor an inch. He didn't let up on his hold, he wasn't letting go, you don't think he ever would after this. Your breathing hitched as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips once more. You sighed in contentment. His touch, his lips, all-consuming and right. "I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner." He apologized.

"It's okay Az. You were right on time..." He spun you both around once more, wanting nothing more than to emit more laughs out of you.

[tadpolesonalgae]

The High Lord’s Whore

Eris x reader

summary: Coming from a disgraced family, you decided to take matters into your own hands, restoring your family’s name to its former glory the only way you could—by becoming the High Lord’s whore. Despite the demeaning title, you’re looked after, and treated well. Perhaps unusually so by your High Lord’s eldest son, Eris.

a/n: anon <3 request—thank you so much for this! I had a lot of fun writing this!!

word count: 2,481

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You’re surprised by the amount of respect afforded to you in spite of your demeaning actions. You would have thought his attendants would be expected to keep out of daylight, to be known as little more than whispers behind closed doors or hushed gossip shared by the servants during meal preparations. Yet you’re often at his side, whether at public dinners or meals in private, you’re taken aback at how much time you now spend accompanied by high society.

Another surprise was how off-limits you were to everyone else. Part of you had expected to be uselessly handed around, possibly used by other males in his favour, tossed from room to room, from one set of hands to the next. Yet any attempts at seduction have been shut down faster than you can blink, either by a hand at your waist, or a fire-filled glance that would send any noblemale running.

You can only assume the High Lord of Autumn must have ordered his eldest son to keep you out of harms way. Could see no other reason for the protectiveness that frequently teeters on possessive, bordering on blatant aggression when opposed with any type of competition, weak or mild.

All it takes is a look, and you’re left in peace.

Yet this night, he seems to have his attention elsewhere, as you’re having surprising trouble dissuading the Lord that’s not so subtly trying to get beneath your skirts. It’s been a while since you’ve had to take matters into your own hands, left a little out of practice.

Still, when you get the chance, and once you’ve deemed it late enough, you manage to slip out from the great ballroom, finding a lonely corridor that seems vacant enough. You sigh, leaning against a wall. Thankfully the High Lord has not called for you tonight, hopefully being set free for the evening. One you’ll gladly take to get some extra reading in.

You caught the tale end of one of his conversations, mentioning a favoured noblemale would be returning after a journey elsewhere, and you would like to be fully prepared to defend your position. Everyone knows the pleasure points are dolled out through appeasing the High Lord as well as politely catering to others in his close circles.

Pushing off from the wall, you make to continue down the long, stretching hallways of the palace, aiming for the library when a hand coils tight around your wrist, jerking you to a stop. Forcing you to turn, coming face-to-face with the pushy, evidently drunk, Lord from earlier. Your heart thunders in your chest out of habit, instinctively uneasy at the unwanted advances from a male. You have no doubt your position would be compromised should the High Lord ever learn of you sleeping with anyone other than himself. And so for that reason, you attempt to extract you wrist from his grip.

“Are you lost, my Lord?” You ask, practically ripping away from him, taking a polite step back to even out the distance. He’s breathing heavily, and makes a dumb groaning sound, before stumbling forward on wobbly legs. Evidently drunk out of his mind.

“My Lord, I think you should retire to bed now,” you say politely, but firmly, voice cutting and clean as glass as you again step backward, shifting with him as you would a dance partner. Granted, a fairly inelegant one, but one nonetheless. “Come…come here,” he manages to slur out, hand reaching forward but you again step away, mentally mapping out the hallways that connect to the one you’re in. Dancing back a few steps at a time like you would when teaching a child to walk.

“Damnit…come…come here,” he huffs, lunging with both arms, almost tripping over his own lumbering feet. Really, you could simply vanish elsewhere, but that would make him someone else’s problem, and the idea of what would have happened had he set his sights on any other female who might not know how to evade his advances leaves just enough of a foul after-taste in your mouth to continue goading him slowly down hallways until you can find one with guards at the ready. They’ll be fully within their rights to use force to escort him elsewhere.

You’re poised to turn a corner, when a coil of flame shoots from his hand, snagging your ankle and you have just enough grace to keep from tumbling over. He grunts excitedly, and you grimace at the sound, pausing to consider your options. “Caught you…” he huffs, quickly approaching. “Pesky rabbit.”

You tilt your head as he reaches for you, ankle still caught in the magic snare, hands wrapping tight around his wrists to prevent him from touching you further. “Rabbit?” You inquire with a faint smile, peering down at the panting Lord, keeping your spine set and shoulders tight as you stand your ground. “Would that make you a hunter, or a fox?” You ask, squeezing firmly to keep him in check. Just a little further and you’ll be in sight of the guards. If you could just turn the corner…

“Hunters kill their catch,” he pants, struggling in your hold, fire heating around your ankle. “Foxes eat them.” You quirk a brow, surprised by his strength despite the obvious inebriation. “So a fox, then?”

He bares his teeth in a grin, face flushed from exertion, and you notice the wedding band on his hand, cringing inwardly. “Well, Sir, that is quite a shame,” you muse, though you don’t think he’s listening anymore. “Hunters capture foxes, as well as rabbits.”

Cool relief sweeps down your spine as a fire-hot palm singes the expensive fabric on his shoulder, gripping tight enough that he hisses, releasing you, magic vanishing as he turns, coming face-to-face with the High Lord’s eldest son. Well, maybe not quite face-to-face. There’s more than a foot of height separating them.

Eris’ scowl is enough to break through the Lord’s drunken state, spine straightening, hands dropping to his sides upon marking the distain in the Heir’s sharp eyes, the downward cut of his mouth. “My apologies,” he stammers out gruffly, clearing his throat with a wet cough that has Eris’ brows narrowing, displeasure tucked between them as fire blazes cooly behind his gaze.

You mange the last steps back to the corner, instantly gaining the guard’s attention—it’s hard to miss your vibrant shade of orange, or the gleaming twinkles stitched into the bodice of your dress, flame incarnate. You know how the Heir’s temper can boil over despite his calm exterior, like the cool and jagged stone that contains the volatile heat of magma. Right now you’re worried he might release that scalding lava atop the trembling Lord, and that would cause quite the mess for the poor servants to handle. So with a polite smile that almost boarders on a friendly wince, you beckon one over to help prevent a potential crises.

“I swear— I, gosh, I had, I swear I had no idea,” the Lord is fumbling beneath the burning glare of your patron’s son, and you’re practically able to smell the sweat and fear dripping from the male’s brow, as if already being slowly boiled alive. “You understand don’t you, Eris? If I may humbly address you as such—”

The blazing heat in his gaze dims, walled off as he finds the guard you’d summoned. “Get him out of my sight,” he orders sharply, and you’re rather impressed that the guard doesn’t balk at the stern tone. It’s not one you’d like to be on the wrong end off. But the guard follow through dutifully, firmly escorting the male away, who still seems to be rambling apologies.

You reset your spine, keeping your shoulders level and posture controlled as you turn to meet the High Lord’s eldest’s gaze, keeping your chin slightly dipped. “I apologise for the trouble, my Lord,” you say, head bowing as you sketch a light curtsey. The fire seems to have banked from his eyes, now just as cold and calculating as usual, not even an ember left. “You should take more care while walking on nights like these,” he states shortly, brows narrowed as he looks you over, stepping closer.

His nostrils flare delicately, whiskey and caramel sparking briefly with distain. “I suggest you bathe before applying your affections elsewhere,” he remarks in that clipped way of his—a suggestion that really isn’t a suggestion. “My affections are not required tonight, so I suppose I will take my time,” you reply, pulling a polite smile to your lips, searching for any clue to the thoughts that are doubtlessly passing through his mind. Will he mention the advances to his father, or keep them to himself until the time’s right. He should have seen you were not encouraging them, and he hasn’t paid you much attention until now, so that shouldn’t be a problem for you to concern yourself with.

Eris’ focus flickers over you again, noting your positioning—having found you in the corridors rather than the great hall. “You’re retiring for the night,” he asks, again in that tone that shows it isn’t quite a question. “I thought I might get an early evening as my presence is not required, and I have nothing else to put my attention toward,” you reply, sprinkling in some truth with the lie. While having access to the libraries technically—you haven’t been forbidden from them—it would be better as few people as possible know where you spend your free time.

His exterior remains indecipherable, but he steps forward, offering his arm in one smooth motion, and you settle your hand atop his out of habit, the etiquette trained into you despite having grown up without need for it. “I’m sure I could manage the walk back to my chambers unbothered,” you try, keeping your tone inoffensive and unassuming, “I would’t want to pull you away from the ball. Your presence will be missed.”

“I can spare a few minutes,” he answers shortly, keeping his attention ahead as he guides you through the halls. “Perhaps allow the conversation to replenish itself.”

“Have many people asked about the return of Lord Blandar?” You inquire with a hint of sympathy, glancing at him. “One step ahead, as usual,” he mutters under his breath, your mouth cutting into a faint smile, his eyes lingering a little longer than usual. “Are you going to ask, as well?”

“Would you like me to?”

“I’m sure you have no need to ask.”

You raise a brow, watching him in your peripherals. “What makes you think that, my Lord?”

Again he briefly glances at you, before returning his attention to the corridor. “It’s quite remarkable you happened to share an interest in Hermet Glaust with Lord Shamsted,” he says, and a stitch of tension is sewn through your shoulders. “Also your fascination with agriculture that seemed to spring up discussion with Lord Crowsley. Not to mention your abrupt adoration for violin concertos that you mentioned while conversing with Lady Sorrerly.”

Sharp amber and whiskey eyes pierce into you, far too observing for your liking, but you suppose it’s how he’s held his position for so long—what’s enabled him to keep his brothers in check. “I like knowing who I’m talking to, and what interests them,” you answer honestly, giving a faint smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“All while keeping yourself to a minimum,” he remarks.

“I hadn’t realised I was such a person of interest to you, my Lord,” you reply.

“You aren’t,” he states bluntly, “I keep an eye on everyone within palace walls.”

“Even the servants?” You ask idly, turning to glance up at him.

“Everyone,” he repeats.

You hum in response, peering ahead to where your door is set in the wall. “Then, if it isn’t too much of a presumption, may I ask what it is you think I am interested in, my Lord?” You inquire, keeping your spine straight, nodding briefly to the guard situated at the corner of the hallway. “Apparently pottery, farming, and music, at the least,” he replies blandly, coming to a stop at your chambers while you turn the handle to one of the two doors.

“And the Lord from earlier?” You ask, stepping into your large room, leaning slightly on the frame of the door, partially concealing your body from view. It might be your imagination—a trick of the light—but his mouth tightens. “Putting his hands where they don’t belong,” he answers sternly, not even the slightest hint of amusement on his face.

“And yourself?” You ask with an arched brow, slight mirth upon your lips.

His eyes gleam, but he inclines his head in departure, your attention subtly marking the skilled embroidery of his attire. “Goodnight, my Lady.”

Your mouth twitches, but you keep the smile to yourself. “Goodnight, my Lord.”

————

Hours later, and his skin is still scalding from the fiery rage that had bled through his body, threatening to wipe the male who laid hands on her clean from existence. No drawn out screams, no shackles to keep writhing limbs in place, just swift and brutal execution.

His fingers itch with flame, incandescent light licking against his palms as he plays with the candle on his desk, flickering. How nice it would have been to have the fire lick up the male’s clothing, leaving burn marks in the pattern of a snake-trail, slowly wrapping its way around the body…squeezing…squeezing… The flame turns white, air whooshing as it burns through the oxygen, and he imagines it snatching the breath from his lungs.

Eris leans back in his chair, legs parting, head tipping back as he releases a low groan. He knows his clothing will still hold the remnants of her fragrance, and the crackle of fire in his veins turns to burning arousal, urging him to release his tension somehow. A muscle feathers in his jaw, gritting his teeth against the relentless thoughts, the sensations his body is tempting him with, cock stiffening between his legs.

This part, he hates. Hates with as much of his free-will is left, that hasn’t been consumed by the desire to find her, and bed her. The control that is stripped from him, this one task prioritised over the mountain of work he must complete. It keeps the fury burning in his veins a little longer, long enough he forces himself to sit up straight and grip his quill, aiming to finish the work he sat down to do.

He will not be reduced to such a pathetic mess over her faintest scent; if his body wants release, it’ll have to wait until he agrees to it.

He’ll be damned if his discipline falters over one female.

Even if she is his mate.

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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer

[dreamscribee]

💎His Diamond💎

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𓍯 Anthony Bridgerton x female reader

𓍯 Here's PART 1 and PART 2 - Don't skip ahead! Make sure you've caught up on the other chapters. This might be longer then the previous chapters, but trust me, it's totally worth the read!

𓍯 Summary: Lady Y/N, praised by the Queen for her grace and talent, captivates Anthony Bridgerton with her music at a lavish ball. Their emotional connection deepens as they share a heartfelt moment, signaling the beginning of a budding romance.

𓍯 Word Count: 750 (words), 4,174 (characters)

𓍯 This may be the final chapter for this romantic adventure with Anthony Bridgerton, but if we get this post at 200 notes, I'll take that as a sign to continue this story. Do you want to keep the love alive, dear readers?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting golden hues across the bustling streets of London, Y/N found herself standing in the grandeur of the royal palace. Nerves fluttered within her as she awaited her audience with the Queen, her mind swirling with questions and anticipation.

When the appointed hour arrived, Y/N was ushered into a lavishly adorned chamber where the Queen sat upon her throne, regal and imposing. With a gracious nod, the Queen beckoned Y/N closer, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Your Majesty," Y/N began, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart, "I am deeply honored by your request for an audience."

The Queen regarded her with a knowing smile before speaking, her words carrying a weight of importance. "Lady Y/N, it has come to my attention that you possess a rare quality—a diamond amidst a sea of gems. Your grace, wit, and the melody of your harp have not gone unnoticed."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she absorbed the Queen's words, feeling a warmth spread through her veins. To be declared the diamond of the season by the highest authority in the land was a validation beyond her wildest dreams.

With a graceful bow, Y/N expressed her gratitude to the Queen, her heart brimming with newfound confidence and purpose.

As the night of the ball descended upon London, the grandeur of the occasion seemed to pale in comparison to the radiance of Lady Y/N. Adorned in an exquisite gown that shimmered like moonlight, she took her place at the harp, fingers dancing across the strings with practiced precision.

As the night wore on and the ballroom swirled with the elegant movements of dancers, Anthony Bridgerton found himself utterly captivated by Lady Y/N. With each graceful note she plucked from the harp, she seemed to cast a spell upon him, drawing him closer with an invisible thread of enchantment.

Their dance carried them across the polished floor, weaving through a sea of swirling skirts and polished shoes. Anthony's gaze never wavered from Y/N, his heart pounding with a fervor he could scarcely contain.

"Lady Y/N," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "since the moment I laid eyes on you, I have been entranced by your beauty, your spirit, your every breath."

Y/N's eyes widened with surprise, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity of Anthony's words. She had known him for such a long time, yet in his eyes, she saw a depth of emotion that stirred something deep within her soul.

"Anthony," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion, "I... I never imagined..."

But before she could utter another word, Anthony's hand gently cupped her cheek, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

"Y/N," he continued, his voice now filled with a raw vulnerability that took her breath away, "in your presence, I have found a light that guides me through the darkest of nights. You are my solace, my sanctuary, my everything."

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes as she gazed into Anthony's, her heart overflowing with a love she had never known possible.

"Anthony," she whispered, her voice barely a breath, "I feel it too. With every beat of my heart, I feel it too."

And as they stood there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, bound together by a love that transcended time and space.

It was then, amidst the whispers of love and the gentle strains of music, that Anthony dropped to one knee, a small heart shaped box nestled in his palm.

"Y/N," he said, his voice trembling with emotion, "will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you stand by my side, not just tonight, but for all the nights to come?"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she beheld the man before her, his eyes alight with love and devotion. With a trembling hand, she reached out to touch his cheek, her heart overflowing with a joy beyond words.

"Yes, Anthony," she whispered, her voice a melody of love and longing, "yes, a thousand times yes."

And as Anthony slipped the ring onto her finger, sealing their love for all eternity, the world seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the dawn of a new chapter in their lives—a chapter filled with love, laughter, and the promise of forever.

[sakkiichi]

YOU’RE A CRISIS OF MY FAITH.

You meet him under the brightness of ballroom lights and the vibrant colors of his mask. However, is it a good idea to let yourself be lead by infatuation?

feat. Childe, Kaeya, Kaedehara Kazuha, Lyney, Albedo x gn! reader.

cw/genre: romance, fluff, slight angst in kazuha’s and lyney’s, royal masquerade au. reader wears a dress, mildly suggestive allusions on childe’s (very soft).

i would like to dedicate childe, kaeya and albedo’s part to my dearest @bunny-rambles <3 albedo’s part is dedicated to the sweetest @ssilversiren too !

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ CHILDE

Crossed arms over his chest and a sharp edged smile peeking from underneath his mask. The prince is certainly amused, and not precisely by this gathering he himself hosted.

It’s this feeling. Being unknown; just another face amidst the ebb and flow of a sea of profiles.

What would it be like, to converse with others, with them being none the wiser about his royal status?

Running a hand through his ruddy locks, Childe leans off the wall, something, or rather, someone having caught his attention.

The person is standing on the opposite corner of the room, their skirts as if weaved out of seafoam and tides, cascading to the floor in silky waves of sky. They’re alone, the ornamented wall behind them making them look as an extension of it, a painting without frame; for they stare longingly at the swaying crowd, their frame still, anchored, yet without a harbor.

“Fancy a dance?” A voice you swear you have heard somewhere before asks, causing you to turn around.

Striking sapphire eyes lock with yours, the cheeky smile he sports weakening your knees for a second. He’s dressed finely, in white and red, silver accents decorating the lapels and shoulders of his jacket, matching with the scarlet mask partially concealing the constellations of freckles dusting his handsome face.

You swear you know him. But you don’t at the same time; a crystalline pond at night, argent starlight swallowed by the depths of its abyss.

“Quite the bold request, considering you haven’t even introduced yourself, don’t you think?” You prompt, the stranger’s magnetizing grin drawing one of your own from your painted lips.

“Oh, come on, humor me?” He pouts, drops of cobalt glinting in the previously dull ocean patches of his gaze.

“Hm,” you ponder, bringing a finger to your chin. “How about you give me your name first?” You suggest, tone taking on a playful lilt. He watches the light quality of your dress, sweeping around you, tendrils of a spring wrapped around the delicate curves of your figure.

“A name, huh?” He smirks, and no matter how much you know it’s a bad idea, you find yourself hoping to call his name often in the future.

He knows what he’s about to reveal is an equally bad idea as you swimming in the currents of his pull, and still, he finds himself uttering the appellative he hasn’t heard in ages.

“Ajax. My name.” He whispers, those lips that only promise trouble brushing the shell of your ear.

You smile, your stare glinting not unlike the azurite shimmer that decorates your disguise.

“Very well, Ajax,” you draw out the last word, your voice directing the incognito royal’s heart wildly against his ribcage. “Come and find me.” Is the lingering echo of your words, a seashell’s melody, as Childe watches shades of aquamarine mingling with the crowd.

Perhaps this was not a good choice; but maybe you like the rush that comes with wishing he asks your name, with wishing his hand catches yours.

From the corner of your eye, you spot a wisp of red as you turn a corner down the busy corridors of the palace. You certainly wouldn’t mind if you happened to take Ajax’s half cape off later tonight.

✧ KAEYA

Rows upon rows of glinting masks and flashy clothing fill the luxurious room, the space practically painted in molten gold.

If anyone were to ask you, however, you’d reply this place is hell. The palace’s corridors are labyrinthine as it is, twisting endlessly, the frozen images hanging on their walls unchanging to your widened eyes.

And certainly, the shoves and pushes of a too excited crowd are not helping your mood at all. Exasperated, you grunt for the thousandth time, bunching up the skirts of your lacy white dress, determined to elbow and step your way to the damned ballroom.

Alas, the distant stars had other plans for you tonight.

Just as you were going to decidedly advance a particularly rowdy crowd, a force collides with you from behind, sending you and your unstable high heels against the polished tiled floor.

Except when the impact comes, it is not hard at all.

“My, a beauty like you should be more careful to watch where they’re going.”

You rise your gaze to meet the owner of that smooth teasing voice.

Hair weaved of icicles at midnight, braided to one side, falling over the spotless bronze skin of the stranger’s pretty face. His eyes, or rather, his visible eye, is chilly blue, the biting touch of a sunny morning after a snowstorm. And, unlike the rest of the guests, he’s not wearing a mask. He doesn’t need one either, his mystery-exuding aura, paired with the eyepatch on his right eye, somehow disguise enough.

You clear your throat, trying to act as if you hadn’t been blatantly staring at the man in front of you.

“Why, thanks.” You let out, tone crisp. “I was watching, but apparently someone with no manners wasn’t.” You add, with disdain, glaring at the advancing multitude.

“I don’t disagree.” The enigmatic stranger smiles, a sliver of moon, icy eyes following over your figure as you straighten your skirt.

Then he hums, the crescent of his sultry lips morphing into a smirk.

“Why don’t I accompany you for a while?” He offers his arm to you. “I was just leaving, but seems I’ve found a reason to stay, at least for a while…”

You match his smirk, conflicted at how attracted you don’t want to admit you are to this man.

“Oh? Does it outweigh the reason you were planning on leaving for?”

“I’ll take the risk to find out.” He grins, looping his arm with yours.

In silence interrupted by the joyous multitude, you make your way to the ballroom. It’s odd, the way you feel comfortable next to him, despite secrets and starry nights concealing the truth of his nature. You don’t even know his name…

“Call me Kaeya, by the way.” He murmurs, as if reading your thoughts, his tan hand, adorned in gold and midnight, lacing with one of yours, his other around your waist.

“Pleased to meet you, Kaeya.” You find yourself whispering back, entranced by the mysteries frozen in that shady stare of his.

Perhaps this is wrong, to let your heart out in the falling snowflakes around the flickering spark of this igniting infatuation, and yet, maybe just this once, you feel like you can fly with wings made of ice under a blazing sun.

You don’t regret it. Not when you know you’ll dream of Kaeya’s voice for nights on end. Not when he twirls you around the room, a flurry of snowy clouds outlined by gilded twilight. Not when he pulls you aside, hiding both of you into an alcove, his smooth hand pressed against your mouth, as some guards pass asking for “the prince”.

He definitely looks like one, you think. You don’t have time to dwell on iit as you both run off, hands still laced, into a narrow torch-lit corridor, the night air beckoning you towards the exit.

Danger had never felt so right.

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

You should have known better.

Better than to trust that bastard.

The nobleman that was supposed to be your date tonight.

It’s not like he didn’t show up, oh, he did alright.

You wish he hadn’t.

Seeing that asshole arm in arm with someone else makes your blood boil, a cold, cruel anger seeping into your bones, its chill enough to burn white-hot.

And yes, perhaps stomping out to the too pretty rose garden was a childish decision, but maybe it was you just exercising self control.

Best to brood than let your tempestuous wrath strike the whole place down.

Storms were only beautiful from a distance, after all.

You heavily sigh, removing the bejeweled mask covering the upper half of your face.

No point in keeping it now, you observe, running a thumb over the faux diamonds embedded over the indigo surface.

How ironic, you laugh, humorless, for your mask to look like a bright starry sky, when all you see the moment you rise your gaze heavenward are dark clouds gathering.

“Pardon my intrusion,” a pleasingly gentle voice begins, just as you were plucking the fading petals of a dying rose, “but are you not feeling up to joining the ball?”

Suddenly, the gloomy night dyes moonlit and crimson: twin pools of sunset regard you, a soft flame, soothingly warm in the chill of the inauspicious night; threads of starlight seem to constitute the man’s hair, almost angel-like in the way it frames his candid face, in the tender way the locks fall over his shoulder, tied in a bright red ribbon, akin to a bouquet of lily of the valleys. Like you, it seems he has discarded his mask, a splash of vermillion held in between svelte fingers wrapped in pale silk.

You greet him with a smile, the previous gales of fury receding, replaced little by little by the nurturing caress of an early autumn wind through maple leaves.

“I could ask you the same question.” You offer, turning your body in his direction, the faint touch of moonlit clouds brushing against your skin.

He shakes his head, tendrils of silver swaying with his movement.

“Let’s just say I prefer the peaceful nature of the outdoors.” He chuckles, sincere, the sound almost transparent in its quality, tiny ripples by a dawn breeze over a mirror-like stream. Then, he tilts his head to the side, silken strands caressing the smoothness of his cheek in ways you know you shouldn’t be dreaming of so soon. “However, I do believe it could prove romantically irresponsible of me to deny someone else this dance, no?” He asks, extending a hand to you.

And you know you shouldn’t feel your face heating up at the protruding tendons over the callous softness of his skin.

“My name is Kaedehara Kazuha,” he finally introduces himself.

Kazuha. You can’t quite tell just yet why you somehow wish that to be forever the name on your lips, nor do you know yet why you find your eyes naturally drifting off to every lash and diminutive freckle so temptingly touching his cheeks.

You don’t know if it’s right either, to take this leap of faith. What if the jump ends in you downfall? Again.

But what if you could swim in a pool of starlight instead? Is the voice whispering in verse into your ear, when you find one of your hands entwined with Kazuha’s, the other resting over the shoulder of his black and red suit jacket.

“It is my pleasure to meet you, Kazuha.” You find yourself smiling back, before introducing yourself.

As your dance partner twirls you around, the warmth of his hand lingering on the small of your back, the overcast skies seem to part. Like a wrinkle in the mundanity of human life, endless sparkling stars cast their gaze over you two, even their moon coming out to take a peek into the couple’s hearts yearning for the fated romance to be.

Splashes of cotton candy pink and cherry crimson sweetly bloom under the argent lights of the enchanted night, even the wilting rose you had been tampering with earlier dyeing in shades of life anew.

Though, to you, in this moment, the only life that matters is the one held in Kazuha’s autumn stare, his tenderness tethering you to the gentle comfort of your head resting against his heart.

Maybe it had already started beating for you, much like yours.

Perhaps some charms begun at midnight.

✧ LYNEY

Throngs of people gather around the Opera Epiclese building and yet, you had never felt so alone.

A sinking feeling settles in your heavy heart, as you pat your now lackluster gown, check your purse, only to come up empty handed.

Your ticket for today’s masquerade ball, seemingly vanished.

Defeated, you sigh, turning on your heel.

What use will be lingering around, with no way to get into the opera house anyway? Things couldn’t have turned out worse.

Or so you thought.

For, seconds later, you would find yourself tripping over the hem of your long dress, ripping it in the process, one of your delicate high heeled shoes slipping off, clattering to the concrete ground, a few feet away from you.

The ruby tear embedded on your mask seems like a mockery right now, salty crystalline tracks streaming down your cheeks.

Luckily, no one will pay you any mind and you’ll save yourself the embarrassment, you try to console yourself.

Alas, the fates didn’t even want to concede you that small salvation.

“Are you alright?” a pleasant voice questions, causing for you to turn around.

And when you do, the man standing right before you is not unlike a spell himself. Violet eyes concealing the secrets of a lifetime spent on the edge of light and shadows regard you through his cat mask, the disguise leaving a maroon tear-shaped mark visible on his cheek, similar to the one on your own mask; his top hat is decorated in shades of rose and night, a purple ribbon around it, its hue almost in tune with the magic of his gaze. Silvery strands sweep over the stranger’s pale visage, slightly ruffled in the ebb and flow of the night’s balmy breeze. And in his hand, he’s holding the fine shoe that caused your fall.

With your face burning in shame, you look to one side, mumbling an affirmative response. You can only be grateful for the crowds starting to dissipate, leaving you and this boy mostly alone.

Kneeling, he carefully slips the shoe on your bare foot.

“Are you sure about that?” He prompts further, helping you up. “You look dressed for today’s ball, however, you were heading in the opposite direction…”

Rubbing at your face, you hang your head low.

“About that… I’m not going anymore…”

“Is that so?” He tilts his head to the side, gaze of iris settling on the torn skirts of your attire.

“I just… it’s embarrassing…” You admit. “I somehow lost my ticket to enter… and well, then I fell, and now besides not having the means to get in, there is no way I look presentable for the occasion anyway…” You chuckle, humorless.

He hums. Then:

“If I may be so bold, I do believe you look lovely.” The mysterious man compliments you, snapping his fingers.

You follow his gaze to your outfit. And when you take it in, your eyes widen. Where there used to be a tear on the fabric, now it’s seamlessly weaved together, sweeping over the nightlit cobblestones. And not only that, but its shade is an even more vibrant shade of carmine now, small sparkly flecks catching the silvery ripples of Fountain of Lucine.

“Wha- Thank you…” You breathe, awestruck, admiring the revived color of your clothes.

“My pleasure.” The magician chirps, with a wink. “Now, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the ball? It’s starting soon, and I would be very happy if you said yes.”

“I mean… I would love to, but my pass is gone…” You answer, regret lacing your tone.

“Hmm…” He muses, holding his chin in between two fingers. “Can I ask you to look closely now?” He pulls out his ticket, and right there, in the blink of an eye, he slides a second pass from behind the first one.

You gasp, eliciting a soft laugh from him.

“How about now? May I, Lyney, have the pleasure to join you for the night?” He proposes, bowing.

Smiling gratefully, you take his arm, wonderstruck still.

Together, you make your way towards the Opera Epliclese, the tickets safely held in Lyney’s free hand.

When you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the clear surface of the fountain’s waters, a Rainbow Rose adorns your hair.

The magician’s doing, no doubt.

You silently thank Lyney with a smile, and he believes no beam of moon could ever hold a candle to the sight of you.

✧ ALBEDO

Above the hall’s music, an acute faraway sound pulls you out of the forest of masked faces.

The spacious room is lit in gold, luxurious lamps and chandeliers focused on a crowd disguised in velvets and lace.

But, that melody. You can’t quite get it out of your head. You’ve been hearing it all evening, every now and then.

Akin to a gelid river, cutting through blocks of stone-hard ice, making your every hair stand on end when its notes tantalize you with the promise of the gilded reflections of northern lights over the stream’s surface.

You can’t ignore it any further, the flames dancing from ornate candles against the walls seem to murmur.

And even though the impending rushed beat of your heart may be painting danger red all over this possibility, you decide to ignore it, listening to the unknown song’s voice, beckoning you out of the ballroom.

Flecks of gold seem to hang in the air as you make your way through twisting ample corridors, the otherworldly sound welcoming you through a set of double doors, their wood snow white, their handles, crystal.

When you push them open, frozen air appears to settle all around you. It is not unpleasant, though.

In the same way, even though the music has just stopped, the sight before you is not unpleasant either in the slightest.

Amidst the room, a blonde man stands. His gaze, resembling underwater lights at dawn, is set on you. A white shirt with blue and golden accents falls perfectly against his frame.

You don’t miss the way his sleeves are rolled up, nor the tiny multicolored splashes in them.

Which brings you to take in the space around you.

A multitude of paintings line every wall: landscapes of somewhere you can only dream of stepping into; portraits of people you have never met, or have you, in the distance of sweet sleep?; abstract brushstrokes, constituting colors you had never seen before, that you know you won’t see anywhere else.

“Hello,” a soft voice that can only belong to the man in the room utters. “I am Albedo, the court’s alchemist, how may I be of assistance?”

You clear your throat, stammering an apology. He smiles, that sunny sky gaze never leaving you.

“I-I uh… I just heard music and… it seemed to come from here… I apologize for barging in so rudely.”

He gives you a sweet smile. You wonder whether he’s a prince, instead of an alchemist.

“Not at all. Music, you say?” He asks, bringing close to his lips the flute he had been holding. “Did it sound anything like this, perhaps?” Albedo starts to play, notes filling the chamber, colorful blossoms flourishing along snow-covered plains.

You get lost in the sound. In the ethereal aura the prince-like alchemist exudes. He’s as magnetic and entrancing as the melody he plays. Unconsciously, you’ve started to sway, and perhaps a part of you wishes this song was a gift for your ears alone.

At some point, the symphony stops, notes of it, still lingering in the crispness of the atmosphere, despite the closed windows.

“Beautiful.” He utters, tender, the fall of snowflakes atop your open palms.

Warmth creeps up your neck when he steps closer to you, his elegant hands hovering close to your face, to your silver mask.

“May I?” His lips say, rose-colored in the careful lilt of his tone.

Nodding is all the answer you can manage, Albedo’s cool fingertips grazing the side of your cheek.

“Yes, lovely.” He repeats, studying the lines of your mask-free face, the wave of your hair, the sparkles in your wide eyed gaze.

You wonder if he’s ever looked into a mirror, because if he’s presenting you these compliments, no words could describe how utterly breathtaking you think he is.

“Would you allow me to paint you?” Is the question you find yourself nodding to as well.

Beneath the golden lighting of fabricated starlight and with the paradoxically warm caress of Albedo’s cool touch when his hands position you for his portrait, you enter a labyrinth of emotions you only want to brave deeper.

What lies beneath the sunlit layer of snow clinging to Albedo’s every movement?

Perhaps tonight, as he renders you in watercolors, you have already imprinted yourself in his golden encased heart.

[azsazz]

Anywhere

Tamlin x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: Ooooo I’d literally love it so much if you’d write for Tamlin again😩 I feel like I’ve been seeing so much hate for him recently and I really just need more people doing my sweet misunderstood boy some justice :((( honestly anything that just has him being sweet and soft… hurt comfort is always a solid winner.

Warnings: Angst, foreplay.

Word Count: 1,712

Notes: Of course this would turn into something steamy, that's just who I am.

_________________________________________

“Tam?” you call softly, pushing the cracked door to his office open further. The room is dark, moonlight shining through the large windows. You spot him right away, and the warmth of the bond in your chest would tell you that he’s here even if you weren’t able to make out his form, slumped in his chair, elbows resting on knees and head in his hands.

He doesn’t answer but doesn’t turn you away either. Stepping into the room, you make your way towards him. His home is silent, almost eerie with lack of Tamlin practicing his fiddle, without the chatter of the chefs, courtiers, and handmaidens. It’s late, and they’ve all vacated the property. It’s only you and him now, and Tamlin hadn’t sought you out once the sun dipped behind the grassy knolls of the Spring Court.

Your footsteps patter softly against the wooden floors, the only sound in the manor besides your shallow breathing. Your heart kick starts along with your nerves, worry wracking your mind as you move closer and he doesn’t answer or shift. You can see the way his broad back heaves.

Timidly, you reach out your hand, brushing some of his long, blond hair from where it’s falling around his downturned head. Again, Tamlin doesn’t move as you tuck it gently behind his pointed ear.

“Tamlin?” you ask, running your hand down the back of his head. He’s starting to worry you, all silent and brooding like this. Lowering yourself beside him to your knees, you crane your neck to see his face, solemn with worry, usually bright green eyes dark. “Tam, are you okay, honey? What’s going on?”

Your mate doesn’t respond for a long while, and you don’t ask again. He reaches out, taking your hand in his. His fingers are cold, but his cheek is warm when he presses it against his skin, needing to be touched by you.

You stroke your thumb along his smooth skin, and his sigh startles the quiet of the midnight painted room. The moon paints his rosy, sun-kissed cheeks, his skin glowing with it, and for a male born for spring, he surely looks ethereal basked in the night.

His green eyes are piercing as he finally looks up at you, drinking you in. The soft look of concern on your face, knitting your brows together. That look in your eyes, the one that tells him that you will do anything for him, even if it means doing something you may regret. The downturn of your mouth, he can see your teeth nibbling at the inside of your mouth with worry, can feel that niggling down the bond too.

You remind him so much of her sometimes. When you’re reading up in the library in your favorite chair in your favorite spot in the manor, pushed right in front of the windows so you can look out into the garden and at the fountain while you lose yourself in your book. In fleeting moments when he’s playing his instrument and you wander your way into the ballroom, lured by the fantastical sounds drifting throughout the house. The way you fist your skirts and let the music consume you, twirling about the room with your head thrown back, laughing, until eventually you force him from his chair and plant his hands on your hips, the both of you dancing to the music of your bond, the push and pull of loving emotions shared between you.

Or when you strip your pastel dresses away and beckon him into the moonlight pond with your bare body. The silver water slipping against your skin like beads of the Mother’s tears. Only your envious beauty could make her cry. The way he can’t resist himself, eager to have his hands on you.

“I don’t deserve you.” 

His admission is a whisper that, if you were outside, would be whisked away on the breath of the wind. But you’re not, and Tamlin damns the silence, for being so weak, so fucking comfortable in your presence that his mouth has unleashed this secret without his permission. 

Your heart falters, and he feels it, splintering in his own chest. The burn reverberates in his bones, branding his soul with the flash of sadness you release down the bond before pulling those weaving vines taught so no more of your emotion can slip through the tight knit.

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you hate how your voice shakes. Your hand slackens against Tamlin’s cheek and he tightens his grip on the hand he’s holding as if he’s afraid you may pull away from him.

You’d never pull away from your mate. Instead, you move closer, parting his knees and sliding between them, staring up into those beautiful emerald eyes of his. They remind you so much of the plains that make up his court, the grasses taller than your knees, ones you had to wade through to pull him out of his self-loathing rut after Spring had fallen to shambles, making him see the sun shining again.

Tamlin drops your hand in favor of cradling your face in both of his hands. They’re shaking, as is his voice when he speaks answers. “You’re too good for me, petal, too good for this court. You are so bright, so caring and loving and you deserve so much more than to be trapped here—” His voice breaks a little, and you understand exactly what’s happening. Today is the anniversary of the downfall of Spring. The final day of the High Lady of Night’s plan to ruin everything Tamlin has never wanted but was bestowed by his bloodline. “You can go anywhere, do anything, you’re destined for so much better, so much better than me…” 

Tears prick your eyes and you squeeze his wrists, hard. “Stop it right now, Tamlin. Don’t—don’t do this because you think it’s right. Don’t dismiss our love because of the past. You deserve to love and to be loved, to cherish and to live life freely and without dwelling on what happened because some illiterate little female got a taste of power. I will love you until every flower in this court shrivels and until the Mother returns us to the earth. You are mine and I am yours, forever. Is that not what we committed to by accepting this bond?”

“It is,” he hisses painfully, tugging you up. His movements are effortless, lifting you into his lap with an ease that makes your stomach twist. You’d clench your thighs together but Tamlin is spreading them on either side of his thighs so he can pull you as close to his body as he can. Now isn’t really the time to be acting like this, but your body reacts to the slightest thought of your wolfish mate, and with the way his large hands soothe up the sides of your thighs to settle on your waist, he can smell it on you too. “I love you so much that it makes me question everything. How can I head a court when all I want to do is steal you away into the night and force you somewhere no one can find us?” His teeth are sharp at the juncture of your throat and shoulder, making you shiver. 

Tamlin couldn’t have admitted something like this long ago, hadn’t wanted to. He thought he might love the human female the way she’d initially loved him, but it was nothing compared to the burning passion he feels for you. The raw and unyielding power that sears his body when you’re near. He would give up this court in an instant if it meant saving you, keeping you for himself. He needs you like his gardens need the rain, the sunlight, the air. All of the best moments in his life don’t even compare to any of those you’ve given him. You are it, from dusk until dawn, from flesh to ash.

“Do it,” you gasp, fingering the hair at the nape of his neck. You tug on it, throwing your head back at his words, the sheer truth of them. You rock your hips against his, feeling his hard length pressing up to meet your cunt. “Take me Tamlin, whisk me away or bend me over this desk and take me right here. It doesn’t matter where we go or who we’re with as long as we’re together.”

“Fuck, petal,” he growls against your skin. He’s leaving marks but you don’t care, neither of you will be leaving your bed for days, not while Tamlin allows himself this freedom. His subordinates will keep the court running, and they know better than to disturb their High Lord. “This is what I’m talking about. The way that you move, that you love…this can’t all be for me.”

“It is,” you whine as he roughly grabs a fistful of your ass. He lifts his lips, grinding into you as your fingers scrabble against the fabric covering his muscular chest. “Gods, Tam. Take me upstairs, please!”

“Thought you wanted me to take you right here,” his breath is hot against your lips. He bites at your lower lip, pulling on it and causing you to gasp. “What happened to that?”

“Anywhere,” you’re all but babbling now. Tamlin’s fingers slide between your thighs, brushing across your panty-covered cunt. “Anywhere, take me anywhere.” 

He pulls back and you want to whimper but the fire in his piercing eyes makes it catch in your throat. His lips are swollen, glistening from your kisses and his rough tongue on your skin. The way he’s staring up at you…it’s consuming. You slacked the tight reins on your barriers and are hit with his feelings full force. It almost feels like you’ve been struck, the way you rock back and Tamlin has to catch you, tuck you closer to his chest with those possessive hands you adore so much.

“Let me take you anywhere, then,” he whispers and you nod against his heated skin, forehead pressed to his. “Anywhere, Tamlin,” you agree, brushing your mouth sensually against his, pairing it with a swift roll of your hips that makes you both groan and his hands tighten on your skin. “I will love you everywhere.”

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 13

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: it's a pretty fluffy chapter today, but let me know if I missed anything! wc: 1.9k

Chapter Selection

Stella did my hair and makeup, and lent me a little black clutch. She instructed that I wait until I had my dress on to put the earrings and hair pins in, but made sure I knew exactly where to put the pins, before letting Jason whisk me away to the manor. My dress and shoes were already there waiting for me with the other girls, and when we arrived I was quickly pulled into a large closet away from Jay. Stephanie grinned, sticking her tongue out at him as she declared; “no boys allowed!”

It struck me how Babs and Steph effortlessly brought me into the group; everything felt so natural, like we'd gotten ready for dozens of these events together.

“What is this one for again?” Stephanie frowned, picking between two pairs of earrings.

“It’s the JTCF fundraiser. Hence why Jason couldn't bow out this time.” Barbara chuckled.

“JTCF?” I tilted my head.

They looked a bit startled; “... The … Jason Todd Children's Foundation? … The charity Bruce started after Jay …”

“Died.” I finished the sentence for them, nodding. “Gotcha, … what does it do?”

“Mostly it funds after school activities and tutoring programs in Crime Alley.”

“That's nice. … How does the gala help?”

“It’s basically a thank you gala for the foundation’s biggest donors, but there's also a silent auction, and a limited number of tickets available to buy, if you have way too much money and didn't think to give enough through the year to warrant an invitation.” Stephanie rolled her eyes.

“Jason tries to get out of going every year, but it always somehow works out to be his turn.” Babs chuckled.

“Of course, he has to make an appearance at the party for the foundation that carries his name. Who else is going to be there?”

“From the family? Just us, Bruce, and Tim. And I think Tim’s bringing his boyfriend.”

“No Cass tonight?” I looked in the mirror, shaking my head a bit to make sure the garnet pins were secure.

Steph chuckled, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. “Nah, Cass doesn't do too many of these events; they drain her social battery. There has to be at least two Wayne's at every event, so they take turns, and the rest of us get roped in on a rotational basis to keep them sane through the night.”

“They dislike the galas that much?”

Babs shrugged. “It's just … a lot. People have very specific expectations, and it gets exhausting. Plus, there's always a better than average chance that some Gotham villain will get it in their head to harass the guests.” She adjusted her navy blue skirt over her legs, making sure it wouldn't get caught in her wheels.

“Yeah, is there a plan for that?” I frowned a bit.

“Follow Jason, he'll keep you safe. But if you get separated, if you're near the ballroom entrance follow the crowd. Security will funnel the guests to the panic room. If you're closer to the bar, get behind it. There's a button under the counter next to the sink, a panel in the floor will open and you can hide in the cellar.” Babs nodded, smiling a bit.

“... Well what about you? What if you're near the bar? Will you be able to get down there?”

“No, but being the commissioner's daughter I tend to be one of their ‘high profile targets’ anyway. I make an excellent distraction to buy other guests time to get to safety, and a Bat or two will show up before anything serious happens.”

I frowned deeply. “... The plan if someone attacks is for you to give yourself up and hope Batman shows up in time?”

“If I have to…. It's only happened a few times, hun, and they were specifically looking for me. Waiting it out is often the most practical option, and results in the fewest casualties.”

“I hate that.”

“Don’t worry, I can take care of myself. They always underestimate the girl in the wheelchair.” She smiled brightly, punching her hand for dramatic effect.

“... I guess.” I frowned more. Babs seemed perfectly ok with it, but the idea that she wasn't offered the same protections as the rest of us pissed me off.

Steph smiled softly and gently squeezed my shoulder. “Hey, don't worry about it, ok? Two-Face held up the last one, so we're due for a villain-free gala!”

I chuckled, nodding, and finished placing the last pin. “What do you think?”

“Stunning! Ready to show Jay?” I nodded, and the girls led me out to the main foyer. Tim was hugging a blond man who just arrived, and Jason was fiddling with his tie.

Stephanie cleared her throat; “Jaybird, I hope you're ready for this!”

He looked up at us, freezing when our eyes met. I giggled softly at the look on his face, spinning once on my way over. His eyes trailed down my dress and back up to my face.

“... Dear God~” He took my hand, kissing my knuckles delicately. “How did I get so lucky, huh?”

I giggled, beaming up at him; “Trust me, I'm the lucky one.”

Tim cleared his throat; “just making sure you remember; we are right here.”

Jason grunted at him, cupping my cheek. His fingers slid back a bit to touch my ear; “... These are beautiful, where'd you get them?”

“Jewelry store at the mall.” I smiled softly.

“Hm … they're perfect. … Who got them for you?” He raised an eyebrow.

I blinked a bit, slightly taken aback by his tone; “... Jay, are you jealous?”

He blushed a bit, frowning; “no! …”

“Then why does it matter?” I smiled gently.

He frowned, whining a bit. “... I guess it doesn't?”

I chuckled gently, pulling him into a chaste kiss. “Good. Cause there's no one else I want to be here with.”

He smiled shyly, kissing back; “… You're still missing one thing though.” I tilted my head, curious, and he slid his hand down my cheek to the side of my neck.

“... Jay?”

He chuckled softly, offering me a long velvet box. “Don't worry, I didn't spend any money.”

I slowly took the box. “... Did you break any laws?”

He laughed softly, kissing his forehead; “not this time~ open it already~”

I slowly slid the box open, revealing a gold necklace with teardrop shaped garnets adorning it like leaves. “Oh… Jay, it's beautiful~ … where did you get it?”

He chuckled, taking it out of the box, and slid it around my neck, carefully clasping it in place. “It was Grandma Wayne's.”

I blinked repeatedly, looking up at him and hissing softly; “Gr- … J- Jace, is this Martha Wayne's necklace???”

He chuckled and nodded. “Before you panic, Bruce gave his permission.”

My fingers came up to caress the cool metal on my collarbones. This one necklace was probably worth more than my entire life, and Bruce was ok with me wearing it??? Jason chuckled softly at the look on my face, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Princess?”

“I just … I'm in shock.” I leaned against him. “... Bruce really said it was ok?”

“Swear to god; he handed it to me himself.” Jay nodded, smiling softly.

“... Ok.”

“... Tim?” I frowned, looking out across the dance floor.

He looked over at me, clearly a bit annoyed that I was interrupting his whispered conversation with his boyfriend; “hm?”

“... Am I being a weird, possessive girlfriend, or does Jason look really uncomfortable?” I nodded toward him on the other side of the room. A woman had trapped him in conversation for the past several minutes on his way back from the bar. His face seemed tight, like he was forcing his polite smile to stay exactly where it was.

Tim inhaled in a hiss. “Oof, he's gonna snap…”

“That would be bad.”

Bernard nodded, frowning. “What's the play?”

I smiled a little; Tim had only introduced me to his boyfriend briefly, but I already liked him. “Hmm … can't pull him into a dance, he's carrying our drinks … The presumed heir to the company would probably be a more valuable social opportunity for her though….”

“... No.” Tim frowned.

“... You sure? … I wonder what Jay will say if I tell him you bought me jewelry…”

Tim made a face at me; “Wha- … that is so rude! ... Fuck… fine. But Bernard, you have to save me in five minutes.”

Bernard laughed softly and nodded. “Got it.”

Tim shook his head poutily, heading into the fray. Bernard turned to me, whispering; “you weren't actually going to tell Jason, were you?”

“I mean, I'm not gonna lie to him, but I also wasn't planning on making a big thing about it.”

Bernard laughed and after a moment I followed Tim around the dance floor. As I approached, I heard the woman tittering at something Tim said. I slid in next to Jay, resting my hand on his shoulder blade. He stiffened slightly under my touch before realizing it was me and relaxed. He offered me my drink and I took it, gesturing for him to follow me away, leaving Tim to distract the girl.

“What did you have to promise Tim to get him to take my place?”

“Nothing I wasn't planning on giving him in the first place.” I sipped my drink, smirking a bit.

Jason chuckled, resting a hand against the small of my back. “That's my girl~”

I smiled softly, leaning into him a bit. “You doing ok so far?”

“So far …” he sighed softly, his thumb stroking my back absentmindedly. “... I'd much rather be home with you though.”

“We can go as soon as your social obligation is fulfilled.”

A look of relief passed through his eyes; “you're sure?”

“Of course, I want you to be comfortable; I know you're not comfortable here, so I'm not going to draw this out any longer than necessary.”

“But it's your first gala…”

“So?”

He looked a bit bewildered; “... So, … don't you want the full experience?”

I shrugged, smiling softly; “is this going to be my last gala?”

“... No, probably not.”

“Then why would getting the ‘full experience’ matter more than your comfort?”

He blinked a bit, smiling softly. “... You're wonderful.”

“Oh sweetheart, … the bar is on the floor for you, isn't it?”

He grunted softly, pulling me closer to whisper in my ear; “let me guess, you'll fix that for me?”

“Inch by inch if that's what it takes.” I turned to kiss him gently, squeezing his hand.

A cleared throat nearby drew us apart, and Bruce raised his eyebrows at us. “Jason, you can't just cling to the walls all night.”

“I'm not clinging to the walls, Bruce. I'm standing with my girlfriend while she finishes her drink.” Jay gestured for me to take the last sip, and I did. He took the glass, setting it on a high table; “now, if you'll excuse us, I promised her a dance tonight.”

He took my hand, leading me onto the dance floor. I rested my hand on his shoulder as he took my waist. Nerves fluttered through my stomach and chest; we had practiced the steps a bit, in my living room, but it was very different with a gown on in front of a room full of people.

“Hey, there's only you and me here, ok?~” Jason smiled gently, holding me close. I nodded, gently squeezing his hand as he guided me to spin.

Everything felt so perfect and magical, like nothing could go wrong as long as I was in Jason's arms. The world fell away as I looked into his eyes, almost drowning in the adoration pouring from him. I was so enraptured by him, I almost didn't hear the windows shattering behind me…

Next ->

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Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa

[chihoshisai]

Double Arrangement

Sabo x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

cw : royalty au, strangers to lovers, arranged/political engagement, reader is royalty, sabo is cold (but will warm up over time in other chapters) // wc : 4k words

Part 4

Open doors stood ajar at the end of a dimly lit corridor; creating an inviting trail of light into the ballroom. With joined hands at your stomach, you walked towards it, feeling a comfortable chill from your steps on your exposed upper chest while using the advantage of your tardiness to calm your nerves in the deserted area. Whether for good or for worse, most of the guests had allegedly all arrived while your hair was being put into elaborate braids, pearls lining its entanglement. 

“Her highness, the princess,” the guards at the door announced upon your arrival, and all within the room, faced with the presence of another royal, turned their pair of eyes on you, out of respect, anticipation, duty and perhaps even envy. 

Their blatant staring was of no importance to you — years of attending and hosting such social events had rendered you practically irontight to twinkling gazes, lustful smiles, whispers of awe and unprompted conversation. This time was no different, as you entered with your usual steadfast expression and laxed composure. Now that the desired marine blue color of the sky had been acquired, the room glistened with the yellow rows of chandeliers, and the purple wisterias found themselves tinged in a yellow oranged colorway. The room felt hot, being filled to its full capacity; voluminous dresses taking more space than necessary and homogeneous looking tailcoats, overshadowing the faces of their wearer and so as far as the eyes could see. Melodic orchestra music slithered throughout the room, carrying over chatter and people in a planned unison and offering a much joyful atmosphere to whoever took the time to listen.

Your first reflex had always been to firstly seek the company of your own blood before venturing out for the sake of greetings, politeness and interrelations; a bore that made you feel the weight of your title.

While your eyes scavenged the room for your relatives, feet leading you to lounge the walls, your ears picked up odd and unusual tonations ; snickers, vividly odd whispers and when you turned your neck in their direction, malicious looking sneering eyes were posed on you. It striked you as odd in the start — you were well aware of the simplicity behind your gown of choice — but the more you walked to find those you seeked, the more your confidence dwindled through the incessant muffled banter. Even as you made furtive eye contacts with a few, the way in which they smiled left your cheeks feeling hot with an increasing sense of ridicule up your chest. 

Once the perfect example to follow as the eldest daughter of the royal line. Now currently experiencing a fall from grace.

Perhaps, not displaying unconventional norms was more challenging than you had thought. Your hands were growing damp in self consciousness as your search grew more desperate; mostly for the relief and comfort your family would hopefully provide, pushing aside your worries as trivial.

Your eyes ultimately found your twin younger siblings, chattering about near the chair earlier set for the king to sit, in the furthest end of the room. You smiled to yourself and skipped over their shared location, raising the hem of your skirt to facilitate your movements.

“I wasn’t made aware we lacked funds,” your brother teased as you came not only into view but also in earshot. A smile was hidden away by the sipping of his beverage.

You spoke while taking your last steps before fully including yourself in their company. "Why don't you go about your drinking and leave me alone?” You sarcastically told him, fighting back an eye roll due to the many watching from the crowd. 

If the remarks of your youngest brother always flew over your head due to his frivolous nature, those of his twin sister mattered more than you'd ever admit aloud. "Lord, what are you wearing?” She looked you up and down with a distasteful raised eyebrow. 

"Not you too,” you tempted as a way to play it cool, the earlier uncomfortable sensations caused by the guests now starting to morph into sweat at your armpits.

"It is a ball,” she pressed, giving you round eyes to make you realize your folly. 

"So I have been made aware throughout the week,” you persistently kept a grip on your sarcasm. 

"You embarrass me sister,” your sibling distorted her expression in a subtle disgusted one. Her remark edged you towards the remnant of your self esteem. In contrast to you, she wore a light pink off-the-shoulder gown, an exterior over the dress corset weaved with silver floral motifs, layers upon layers of lace and tulles propped over one another on the skirt, all with a shimmering accent while her loose hair crowned jewels.  

"Apologies if I make for a poor example to look up to,” you gave a polite smile.

A snort came from the brother, who until now silently drank. "At least you're self aware."  

"Might I point out you will not find drinks in our company,” you told him. 

"You're right,” he drank the last of his cup. “If i'm to last the night with you looking like this, I’ll need quite the amount," he failed to excuse himself and went in the direction of the nearest drink mount he could spot. 

"I'd rather not be pitied by standing in your company, forgive me sister and have a great night... if you can," your sister respectfully gave you a nod and went on to trail in the direction set by her twin.

You found yourself alone, perhaps quicker than the time spent searching. "What I would give to see them in my shoes," you mumbled through a sigh. 

People, now that your lonesome had been guaranteed once more, seemed to have increased their staring and hidden whisper towards you. Still digesting the talk with your siblings who had shown you no kindness in mincing their words, you lowered your gaze to the plain fabric of your lilac dress — and how empty it looked. No accessories or over layers, making you wish you had stuck to your usual ball attire. One that not only wouldn't gift you sneers, but compliments and the maintenance of your social upstanding. 

Now it seemed as though everything; your personality, your respect in the eyes of the populace, your value, that you had built crumbled under the simple layer of a single gown. 

“His majesty, the king,” the door guards announced, and at the sight of your brother, with neatly combed hair and the most intricately exquisite ensemble of the room, you felt hope that perhaps him, wouldn't add fodder to your increasing misery.

Remembering that you stood near the chair appointed to him in the room, you maintained your solitude until his form came into your view. 

“I did what I could, are you satisfied?” He came to stand by your side, scarcely ignoring his designated seat, to take a full view of the room.  

Despite his earlier outburst, it seemed things had shifted here and there after your talk, such as the number of set tables. “I shall give you my answer afterwards,” you told him, having been overwhelmed by the atmosphere of the crowd. 

"May I speak of your dress?” 

Your heart gave a drop. "Must I hear it from everyone?” 

He ignored your plea, continuing ahead with his monologue, much to your anxiety. "I can see you chose your grown appropriately for the original room decorations but... considering mother had a last minute hand in it I expected her to apply the same if not more amount of effort to you.” 

You darted your eyes at him for a second with a clenched jaw. "She tried but it was too late.” 

“A shame, really.” 

"Yeah,” you felt your breathing gain in depth. “Especially since I feel like a fish out of a pond, exposed for all to see and laugh at.” 

"You may go and change if it bothers you,” your brother put a compassionate hand on your shoulder. 

"There was no time to find me a new dress. None will suddenly magically appear because I returned to my chambers in the spawn of half an hour,” your involuntary sharp words caused his support on your shoulder to recoil away. It was stronger than you, and despite knowing not to treat him that way, the constant ridicule and shutting down had put you on edge. 

"Don't be so glum, give them a week with new gossip and they'll forget all about it.” 

"Gossip from the palace doesn’t die quickly,” you grumbled. 

"So you say,” his voice was starting to sound disinterested and distant.  

"But perhaps if you were to fabricate one after tonight? In the upcoming week perhaps?” You tempted with a more enthusiastic tongue, turning your head to glance at him with hope. Truly, it would give you enough ammo to make it through the night less scathed.  

He gave you an irritated look before looking back again to the masses. "You think me your servant ? I've already tried bending hell and heaven for this ball and you ask for more in such a small window time? I will not help you further with this matter. If you are displeased with your own personal choices, then the least you can do is keep your head high." He finished by walking away and disappearing into the room.

Feeling small by the minute, you bit the inside of your cheeks, fully aware that he was right. That keeping your gaze upright, looking over the conversations and laughter filled crowd would help you save whatever face you had left.  

As thoughts of never venturing down such a path again tried brewing in your brain, you locked eyes with the person who had since the beginning tempted you to fall down this free for all fall. Sabo stood near a wall, his arms crossed, his attention heavily focused on you for what had most likely been a while. No snicker nor malice could be traced on his features, which much to your relief slightly appeased your worrying. 

You were unsure of which expression to give in turn. A smile? A nod? Surely not a wave. Instead you made your way to skip and cross guests, momentarily stopping here and there when a conversation was brought to you by others, no doubt with vile intention, by subtle innuendo of your attire. Despite that, you allowed the emotions to pile up, pent-up deep within your heart to finally greet Sabo in godd spirits.

“Good evening,” you gave your first genuine smile of the night.

Sabo gave you a quaint nod, turning his attention instead towards the crowd, more precisely scrutinizing the room. It dawned upon your mind that the last time since you spoke to one another did, despite the lack of malevolent intentions, end up rather bitterly. Even so, you went to stand nearby him, keeping your hands joinned near your bodice, thinking of starting anew with the broken feelings of a last encounter behind.   

“Might I inquire of your thoughts on the venue? You seem quite engrossed in analyzing it.”

“It's not what I expected.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, figure brimming with a piqued interest. “How so?”

“It's far less embellished than I had expected,” he turned while you internally marveled at your accomplished goal, to look you in the eye. “Can I assume that is your doing?”

“I'll take it you like it then. The room was heavily tampered with by an unforeseen variable, but it relieves me to hear your thoughts.”

“I see you have backed up your earlier claim of having more power than meets the eyes,” Sabo remained unfazed by your words. “But tell me, why would you do such a thing? What of the other nobles and their thoughts?”

His questions were far from unexpected on your part and you let your eyes wander over to the dancers in the center of the room while smoothly delivering a reply you had turned over in your head like a broken record. “I couldn't give two crumbs about them. This ball wasn't planned in their honor but in ours. And why would I remain a bystander while a ball that would disregard your taste was being organized.” 

Sabo uncrossed his arms, taking a step to blur your vision of the waltzing dancer, to fill it instead with his blue attire. “You're satisfied with this?”

“I had wished for far less,” you upheld your gaze in his, noticing the colors of his eyes drowning away your earlier affliction, until an announcement came to rob the moment away.  

Your brother had found his place in the midst of his seat and spoke with a conventional tone after having bought the attention of all the guests, interrupted the dancing, eating and quelled the music. “Tonight, dear guests, we are assembled to announce the news of an engagement in our family.” A buzz occured, in which you looked at Sabo with a playful look to meet his blank stare,  but soon did the murmurs were nipped in the bud and calm returned. “I humbly announce that my youngest sister, her highness the princess, is now engaged to Sabo, son of Outlook III.”

It happened in an instant — eyes, from all over bolted in your direction, lighting a sense of red exposure on the tip of your ears.  You were used to attention, but still its clamor would never cease to be overwhelming. Thankfully this time you weren't solely exposed as you glanced at the arm Sabo extended your way. A small gesture, but one that made you feel supported in this limelight. Grateful, you circled your own arm around his and walked, head proud throughout the room, the misplaced sneers and comments momentarily stunned by the news and rendered silent all the way to the King's chair. 

“The betrothed everyone, let us wish for a happy marriage,” your brother spoke once you had both made it through to stand in front of him. “Give them a warm applause,” he ordered to the crowd, and as both you and Sabo turned, the once backstabbing guests delivered an obliged cheer, one that enforced your ambition to see this through rather than let it fall apart. 

A deafening exclamation filled your ears, and as you looked through the crowd, you perceived the genuine, congratulatory faces of your younger siblings, offering a nice contrast to the fabricated elation of the nobles. Including Sabo’s family who seemed delighted to give thanks and shake hands with honor to whoever stood around them. 

You looked up at Sabo to see his blank face hardening under a rigid, conventional smile ; one that sent shivers down your spine as it looked more ominous than sincere. An expression you had never seen him arbor before. What could possibly go on in his mind, you thought, remembering his lucid agitation against nobility. 

He caught sight of your eyes, twisting his smile up into a polite one that didn't fail to bring about his attractive traits. His arm that had been freed of your clutch upon meeting the king raised to extend a steady hand in your vicinity.

“A dance, if you may your highness?” He asked you, bending his upper body slightly as proper dance invitations would have it.

You saw him at your level, a look of trust reflected in his eyes, exuding a serious yet alluring charm unbecoming of a noble who only performed this act for the sake of duty. And yet.

Your heart leaped. Quite strongly/fast. 

You accepted his hand, slipping your fingers into his sturdy one for the second time, now under favorable circumstances, while your mind tried throwing reminders not to get attached. Not when nothing was set in stone. But infatuation had already been cast over you — your heart wasn’t the only thing affected, for a heat started rushing across your cheeks and a bemused smile pushed through your lips. 

Sabo squeezed your hand in response, leading you across the path formed by the parting audience and to the middle of the ballroom. This time you walked by his side, glancing at his side profile ; an opportunity that had been deprived the one time he infuriatingly led you by the hands. An opportunity you now basked in as you took notice of the soft shadows candlelight painted on his features. Delicate, sharp and well maintained. 

While musicians readied their instruments, you both exchanged bows. Now standing before one another, ignoring what coursed through the audience, you smiled, a flourishing one brought about by the moment. And even though Sabo simply returned a curt one, it was enough to satisfy you, to see him leave behind his blank state. In fact, as he stepped closer, circling a firm hand on your waist to bring you in closer, at a respectful distance rather than an intimate one, and squeezing your raised hand, you felt elated. In turn, poring into his eyes, you steadied a hand on his shoulder and once more welcomed the warmth that came from such proximity with another. 

Even as the music started, time stretched into a simple eternity — Sabo led the pace and you gladly let him, curious to learn more of his dance style than provide a showcase of your own personal skills. Twirling, spinning and stepping in a rhythmic way, your blood pumped in your head while you came to acknowledge, and like the commanding way in which Sabo led you about, nonetheless taking advantage of your arsenal of skills. 

“You surprise me. Days of dance lessons weren't taken lightly by you it seems,” you spoke aloud, using the symphony and privacy granted by the proximity.

“Dancing isn't so bad, if you compare it to everything else,” his expression had regained a more grave one. 

“You enjoy dancing?”

“It is one of the few universal pleasures of life,” at that, he gripped your waist using both of his hands, utilizing the momentum of the music to spin you in the air, as a testament to his claim. 

You, who reflexively stabilized yourself by holding on to his shoulders expecting the mouvement, couldn't help but feel your grin increase in wideness as a rare lower view of Sabo basked in your vision.

After your heels had found the ground, brushing aside his absence of similar delight on his features, you kept your questioning. “I wasn't expecting you to keep up with this farce so accurately in front of everyone.”

“I told you, didn't I? That I at least wouldn’t cause you harm in other’s eyes. It’s only a ball and I hope the only social event we’ll attend together.”

The only event…? Was he planning on limiting social appearances to a minimum? But why? As you furrowed your eyebrows, wanting to ask for further details, you felt yourself interrupted by the joining of other pairs to the dance floor. Enough time had passed for other duos to join as the appropriate solo rundown of you along with Sabo, guests of honor, had run dry. Therefore, shadows started appearing in your peripheral vision, and you weren’t clumsy enough to tread a delicate conversation with them waltzing so close to your side. 

As such you gave a comprehensive nod along with a polite smile.

The remnant of the waltz was spent in quietude; your eyes darting about over Sabo’s upper body, taking notice of the veins in his neck, the details of his scar, the way in which his neck cravate edged on the loose side, rather than keeping eye contact with him.  You were reminded once more, after the thrill of a new experience subsided, that your fate stood incertain. And yet here you were, slowly growing more than attached to someone you could barely keep in your grasp.

Eventually, the melody of the orchestra came to an end, bows were exchanged and the floor evacuated for new pairs of dancers. Sabo and you both reentered the crowd side by side, and as you foresaw, were greeted by a crash of curious tongues wanting of gossip, by offering congratulations and wishes first. 

Used to such a display, their banter flew over your head, making you notice the way in which Sabo’s expression darkened. Displeasure was hidden behind his polite composure, yet etiquette had it that it was far too early for an excuse to leave. Therefore you pressed on, taking the initiative in every conversation in his stead. Smiling, chuckling, slithering venomous remarks if provoked, until your own arsenal of skills neared its depletion. 

“If you would excuse us, sirs, madams, but my fiance and I have an urgent matter to discuss between ourselves,” Sabo spoke to a ring of inquisitors, his arm extending towards your silent form for you to take. 

As you did, playing along by exchanging insipid goodbyes, you waited until your trail led you far enough from the talkers to whisper the reason behind his act. “An urgent matter to discuss between ourselves? What an unoriginal excuse if I've ever heard one.”

Sabo brushed aside your comment, his eyes searching for the safest route as he led you about the crowd. “You seemed quite tired out there.”

“Did I? I didn't notice,” you glanced up his way, only feeling a slight pain from your heels.

“Your lips were stiffening in between conversations,” Sabo spared you a momentary side glance, one that made you acknowledge his attention to details through surprised brows. “Let's get out of here,” he accelerated his pace, almost dragging you along the room without waiting for your reply.

You had remained in silence, at first flattered by his care but soon curious as to his destination. “Where are we going?” The two of you now walked a deserted corridor nearby the ballroom. On this festive night, candles had been freed from certain parts of the castle to prevent the scurrying of unwanted guests and make sure a single path was followed. A path which Sabo derived from the seconds guards looked away — and it had surprised you to see him furtively trutt about in your own home, skillfully unnoticed. 

You stopped, tugging on his arm to inquire him to look your way. “Sabo!”

He turned, freeing himself from your clutch with a single glance down your hand. “Nowhere in particular, away from that wretched place,” he crossed his arms and went to sit on the nearest windowsill. “You're free to go wherever you wish now, your highness.”

You cringed at the sound of your title. “Spare me your sarcasm at least for tonight. I've heard my fair share of incredulous remarks and body languages.”

“Due to your dress?” 

You sighed a heavy lamentation. It drained you enough to go and sit by next to Sabo, the exhaustion of the day soon to set throughout your body. “Mind adding to the long list of comments? Perhaps it is too drab?  Simple? Inappropriate? Original? Share your thoughts,” you waved an uninterested hand his way, fighting the urge to lean on the window’s glass.

“It looks good on you. Far from obscene like the other women,” his tone hid no trace of malice, which prompted you to raise a playful eyebrow at him, and to your surprise Sabo’s expression had been washed away from its blank state to appear more relaxed. “I like it,” he finished with a nod.

You smiled teasingly, feeling skeptic towards your first compliment of the night. “You're exaggerating.” 

“I mean it.”

You shifted to turn your knees in his direction, hiding internally the shy glee that propagated throughout your core, sweet and warm with innocence. “And yet you won't take me as spouse.” 

Sabo brushed aside your remark, visibly unwilling to tread back on old waters. “Did you not enjoy yourself tonight?” It might seem as though his question was asked out of courtesy, yet, based on a brief profile you had formed of him in your mind, you discerned more to his question than meets the eye.

“Would you like to know my real answer?” You asked with a nonchalant air. 

“It is what I asked for.”

You shrugged. “I did not,” the answer came plainly out of you; after a sour night, how could one possibly find enjoyment were they in your shoes? You knew saying otherwise would make you appear frivolous in Sabo’s image of you, and for that fact felt grateful of the hurtful bitter truth being what it was.

“Oh,” Sabo gave you a quizzical look, his knees edging likewise in your direction.

“But it isn't your fault. It is the guests, they are despicable,” you admitted, for once sharing a similar minded opinion with him. 

“I hear you. I've experienced that part of them myself. Not a great experience.” He thinned his lips, giving you a sympathetic look, which you gladly met sheepishly.

“Indeed,” you fiddled with your hands while Sabo kept his surveying of your features. Ultimately you sharpened the grip on your intertwined joints as you spoke. “Are people the same as here where you wish to live?”

To your relief, the question wasn't deemed impertinent nor too personal on Sabo’s part as he gave you a genuine response. “Far from that actually, no one judges another for their clothing, all the food gets eaten until there's nothing left and there isn't such abundant waste.” 

"Sounds like a nice place to live,” you pointed out with a dreamy smile. Here, you took advantage of the max atmosphere, thinking of Sabo’s guard being down to seize his hands into your own in order to plead your case by appearing to this rare, but currently present,  amiable side of him. “But in truth Sabo, I wish for us to spend more time together. We don’t have to attend social events as you wish, but simply be the two of us together in our company while the engagement lasts.”

“You would only end up hurt”

“I wish to do everything correctly while things still stands, rather than lament at my own inaction,” you gave a slight pressure to his palms. 

A pause occured in which his expression became unreadable, giving the false impression in which he considered your words. “Then promise me something,” his fingers gripped on yours with found urgency, his steady gaze meeting yours for more than a fleeting moment. 

“Yes?” Your heartbeat accelerated under anticipation, hanging on at the idea of hope that would bear fruit.

“Promise me you will up the wage of your staff, offer them more days off and treat them well. To them our life might seem just as unjust as the way the nobles treated you inside that ballroom,” Sabo delivered, much to your inexpectation. Of course he would think of the well-being of the populace before the possibility of marriage — and you were a fool for wishing otherwise.

Irked, you loosened your pressure over his hands and looked over the window. “I don't have power over the internal affairs of the castle.”

“It is important, you must try.” 

“It won't be easy but I suppose I can try speaking to the king,” you folded under his pressure, aware that resisting would simply push him further away, and you closer to a doom in another country.

Sabo freed himself from your weak clutch to  join your hands together, covering your palms in that motion with his and offering a gentle brush atop your skin to bring back your attention to him. “I'll see if I can spare you some time on my end.” 

Your heart leaped at his initiative, tempting you to press for more while your brain wanted to speak of a promise too, but the bell struck a new hour; by being far from the festivities it made itself heard quite well. 

“It is late, you should retire for the evening,” Sabo advised you with a slight pressure on your joined body parts. “Unless you wish to go back there?”

“God no,” you shook your head, hoping it would fade away the cherry color that settled on your face.

“Then I'll take my leave too,” he rose, letting go on your left hand but keeping a firm grasp on your right. Before you were granted the opportunity of inquiring the reason behind his act, thinking it might be to help you up your feet, you were met with the unforeseeable. A kiss, from his lips, soft, delicate and well placed, deposited itself on the back of your hand, causing the cherry color of your cheeks to become that of a burning fire. “Good night,” Sabo whispered.

“Good night.”

Part 5 in progress

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[yandere-daydreams]

tw - fem!reader, implied kidnapping, implied stalking.

“I used to be the best dancer in Snezhnaya.”

You hum, playing thoughtful while she guides you through a loose turn and savoring the way the skirt of your dress fans out behind you. The music is slower than you prefer, made more for conversation than exhibition, but you’ve never taken much of an interest in gossip, nor can you stand discussions on the circus that is Fontaine’s political sphere. This, the performance of it all, is all you really care about. Well, that and a chance to sample champagne fit for an archon, of course. “Used to be?”

“I was recently usurped. A tragic turn of events, I know, but it was well-deserved.” Her gloved hand falls from your side to your lower back. It’s too low to offer any real support, clearly a choice made for aesthetics over practicality, but you don’t protest. You can hold yourself up, even if your feet won’t thank you for your independence in the morning. “By a foreigner, no less – some court gem so lovely and so elegant, even the Tsaritsa couldn’t help but stare. I didn’t stand a chance.”

“That’s not exactly a description I’d expect from an envy-stricken rival.”

“I’m not jealous. I couldn’t be.” She takes an unexpected step forward and you take one back, nearly colliding with another pair too caught up with each other to mind anyone else. You purse your lips. Arlecchino – that was what she said when you asked for the name of the strange, monochromatic woman who’d spent the better half of the evening scaring your other potential partners away. A diplomat from Snezhnaya, if memory served. Hopefully, for the sake of her nation, she’s better at the negotiation table than in the ballroom. “I was the one foolish enough to bring her home with me.” There’s a slight pause, a wistful sigh, as if she’s recalling something dear to her. “We only knew each other for a few days – just a few nights, really. I could hardly bring myself to speak to her, but she was the one to approach me, in the end.”

A quick turn that became into an abrupt twirl, a tug in a direction that went against the flow of the dance floor. This time, you fail to suppress your reaction, a slight frown coming to rest across your lips as Arlecchino flashes a broad grin, nearly hauling you to a less populated corner of the dance floor. “You must be quite the hopeless romantic.”

Your voice is flat, cold, but if she notices your sudden change in demeanor, she doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t deem the insult worth leaving you alone and partnerless in the middle of the dance (no matter how much you’re starting to wish she would). Rather, she only pulls you closer, until your chest is flush against hers, her mouth close enough to your ear for her voice to resonate in a way that makes you want to run. “More possessive than romantic, unfortunately.” Her grin is heavy in her tone. “I’ve just always preferred to keep the things I find beautiful close by.”

That’s enough. You try to wrench your hands out of hers, to shove her away from you, your reputation be damned, but her hold is iron-clad around yours, her posture unfaltering. In one smooth motion, she sweeps your legs from underneath you, leaving you falling into a deep, full-body dip – her strength the only thing separating you from the floor. You open your mouth, ready to scream, but there’s a tight pinch somewhere in your lower back, the feeling of something very small and very sharp being pushed underneath your skin, and your voice catches in your throat, your vision blurring as your body stiffens and your joints lock into place. You do what you can to stay upright, to stay conscious, but it’s a futile pursuit, punctuated by a soft laugh, a pair of smiling lips pressed gingerly against yours. “You’ll like it, in the Tsaritsa’s court,” she says, the words just barely above a whisper.

“I know how to keep my precious gems polished.”

[cyberslvts]

PAS DE DEUX || w.maximoff

Summary you grapple with the intensity with your feelings for Wanda and through a powerful dance your love and longing for one another are vividly unveiled

Warnings: angst, brief arguing, happy endings, kissing, forbidden love, allusions to homophobia, secret romance, my fav sappic balerinas, they r so cute im gonna sob!!

Pairing: ballerinaWanda! x ballerina!reader

WC: 3.5k

Note: this was sm fun to write i am obsessed

———

In the heart of the cold city, hidden behind a façade of faded grandeur, stood the enigmatic Thornfield School of Ballet. Within its dimly lit corridors and ornate ballrooms, the ethereal art of ballet was practiced with an intensity that mirrored the shadows that danced upon the walls. It was here that you found solace, your delicate movements and haunting grace resonating with the melancholic melodies that echoed through the grand hallways.

The Thornfield Opera House stood silent and grand, its vast expanse illuminated only by the silvery glow of the moon filtering through the tall, arched windows. The night felt like it swallowed you. The silence and loneliness of the dark gave you a heightened sense of focus. Dressed in a simple leotard and ballet skirt, you moved gracefully to the center of the stage. The empty red velvet seats, normally bustling with anticipation, now looked like slumbering sentinels in the darkness.

You were a brilliant and elegant dancer, the prima ballerina of the Thornfield Ballet School. Your every step seemed to weave magic, casting a spell over the audience with each performance. The years of training and dedication cultivated you so that you weren't just a dancer but a conduit for the very essence of the art form.

A sigh escaped your lips as you raised your arms, the opening strains of a haunting melody filled your ears. The music existed within the depths of your memory, each note etched into your soul. It was a melody only you could hear, a secret dance between you and the music of your heart.

With a deep breath, you began to move. Each step was deliberate, each extension of your limbs an expression of the emotions that swirled within you. The moonlight cast delicate shadows that danced along with you, a spectral audience that whispered its approval in the rustling of fabric

Your body twisted and turned across the stage and the opera house felt as if it came alive around you. The soft echos of your footfalls echoed throughout the grand hall, filling the space with a magical resonance.

The empty velvet red chairs surrounded you, blurring into a hue of gold and scarlet as you spun and twirled across the stage. The spotlight illuminated your form, casting long, enchanting shadows that stretched toward the edges of the grand hall. Your body seemed to merge with the haunting music, each note a whispered secret between you and the piano keys

You imagined thousands of eyes on you, each one locked in a mesmerizing trance that only you could break. You lost yourself in the dance, completely surrendering yourself to the music's embrace.

The final strains of the music echoed through the hall, and you froze in a final, breathtaking pose. The world felt like it held its breath for a moment before a figure emerged from the shadows of the audience.

“You know I don't like it when you come and watch me unannounced”

You spoke into the dark crowd. You didn't even need to see her to know who she was. A vibrant flash of red hair was illuminated by the spotlight as she stepped onto the stage.

“You’re glowing my love, How could I not stay and watch” she voiced, coming across the stage, wanting to be closer to you.

Wanda Maximoff, the embodiment of enigmatic allure, graced the Thornfield Opera House with a presence that demanded attention. With each step she took, the air seemed to shift around her, charged with an energy that was at once magnetic and captivating. A vibrant mane of crimson hair framed her face like a fiery halo, accentuating her aura of intensity.

As one of Thornfield's top dancers, Wanda's brilliance on stage was undeniable. Her movements bore the hallmark of a maestro, each gesture calculated and precise, cutting through the air like a sharpened blade. her performances left an indelible mark on the hearts of those who witnessed them.

The contrast between your styles was like a beautifully orchestrated duet: While you danced with the gentle grace of a waltz, guided by the melodies that flowed through your soul, Wanda's dance was a tempestuous tango, a dance with the shadows and the edge of passion. Her movements were sharper, her steps darker, and her presence engulfed the stage like a storm, leaving no corner untouched by her intensity.

Where your dance was a soothing balm, Wanda's was a consuming fire. Your elegance and grace resonated like a sonnet, whereas Wanda's movements told a story of calculated power. In your delicate pirouettes and fluid arabesques, there was a serenity that brought solace to the heart, like a gentle lullaby. But in Wanda's commanding leaps and controlled spins, there was a darkness that beckoned, a realm where passion and pain coexisted.

Wanda Maximoff, with her entrancing presence and mesmerizing dance, had woven her way into your heart in ways you never imagined. From the first time you saw her onstage, you were already hers. The secret romance that blossomed between you two was a delicate tapestry of stolen glances, secret rendezvous, and the softest of touches. Your attachment to her felt like poisonous vines, both intoxicating and dangerous. Squeezing around your heart until there was no escaping its grip.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the intensity of your feelings for Wanda began to stir a twinge of fear deep within you. The opera house, was a haven for your love, a place where you and Wanda could share stolen moments in the shadows. Yet, the world outside those walls was a different story altogether.

The truth was, relationships like yours and Wanda's were not welcomed with open arms within the confines of Thornfield. The Society's rigid expectations and conservative norms casted a long shadow over any love that dared to deviate from the conventional path. If your feelings were exposed, you both knew that you would face the harsh reality of ostracization. Given your elevated position within the ballet company, the fallout could be even more devastating. You yearned to dance freely with Wanda, to hold her close without the weight of hidden affections, but the thought of the world discovering your love kept you trapped in a ruthless cycle of avoidance.

As she began to approach you, you instinctively turned away, a motion that caused a flicker of hurt to cross Wanda's expression. Her smile faltered, and you silently crossed the stage, heading toward the speaker in order to switch to a different song.

“I need to practice, Wanda,” you spoke without facing her, hoping she would take the hint to leave you.

"You've been avoiding me," she suddenly declared, her voice ringing out in the open space. She came to a halt at the center stage, her gaze fixed firmly on your form. The intensity of her eyes holding you in place.

The intimacy you shared with her had grown to such profound heights that the mere thought of it sent shivers down your spine. Each stolen kiss and every whispered promise felt like a thread connecting you to a love that was becoming too powerful to be contained. And so, you found yourself avoiding her, retreating into the shadows like a fragile creature seeking solace from the storm.

In your heart, you knew that Wanda sensed your distance, your absence from her side even in a crowded room. The weight of your unspoken emotions was presence, that casted a shadow over your every interaction. She, with her intuitive nature, surely understood that something was wrong, even if the words went unspoken.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Wanda," you deflected, your voice tinged with a hint of unease.

“Yes, you do.” Her strides toward you were purposeful, carrying an air of frustration and longing

“You've stopped meeting me in the garden. you leave your door locked at night. You won't even look at me during rehearsal.” The light in her eyes dimmed, mirroring the distance that had inadvertently arisen. She, no doubt, grappled with the same intensity of your connection, the love that had burgeoned between you.

The guilt gnawed at you, knowing that Wanda deserved more than your silence, more than your hesitation. She deserved the world, and yet here you were, your heart caught in a tug-of-war between your love for her and the fear that had taken root within you.

"I've just been busy," you offered, your voice lacking the conviction it needed. The truth was, you couldn't bring yourself to lie, especially not to Wanda. Without meeting her gaze, you brushed past her, your eyes fixed on the sea of empty chairs as you prepared for the next song.

"Just as I said, I need to practice. I don't have time for this," you continued, your words slightly rushed, a veil of anxiety underscoring them. The show was fast approaching, and the pressure weighed heavily on you. "The performance is on Friday, and I barely have my part of the pas de deux down, and—"

"Fine then, I'll stay and help you," she interrupted, her voice carrying an unwavering determination. Wanda understood you better than anyone else. She knew that ballet was your lifeblood, your very essence. If that was the avenue she had to take to reach you, then so be it.

As the music began to fade in, she moved closer, bridging the gap between you. You stared at her, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty in your eyes. Was she serious?

Although Wanda wasn't your official partner in the pas de deux, her innate talent and brilliance made it easy for her to memorize the choreography. She had watched the routine countless times, During rehearsals, you'd often catch her gaze fixed on you, burning ache evident in her eyes. You wished it was her presence by your side, her soft, delicate hands on you, instead of the rough masculine ones whisking you through the air.

She took your hand in hers, her touch a warm reassurance that sent a shiver down your spine. You glanced at her one last time before the dance commenced, your movements seeming almost too deliberate, lacking the usual fluidity that came so naturally to you. Every step felt calculated as if you were trying to maintain a distance that your heart was struggling to obey. Wanda's gaze, however, remained fixed on you, unwavering and intense.

With each movement, her eyes searched yours, probing for answers to the questions you hadn't voiced. The emotions that played across her face were a silent plea, a desperate attempt to understand the reason behind your avoidance. Yet, even as you tried to keep your focus on the dance, the intensity of her gaze was a distraction you couldn't escape.

“Relax,” Wanda's voice cut through the tension, her hands on your waist guiding your movements. Your arms extended gracefully on each side, and your toes pointed delicately against the smooth wooden stage

In that instant, Wanda's movements shifted, becoming more edged and intense. She led you through a series of intricate steps, each one a silent declaration of her love and devotion to you. As the music swelled, your bodies came alive, moving in perfect synchrony. You began with a series of intertwining pirouettes, your movements mirroring Wandas with an effortless harmony. With every rotation, your eyes met briefly, a fleeting connection that spoke volumes beyond words.

You battled with your own emotions, your heart warring with your mind. You were determined to maintain the distance you believed was necessary to protect yourself and Wanda from the intensity of your shared feelings. The love you felt for her was a tempestuous sea, and you feared being swept away by its currents.

Yet, As you moved as one there was an undeniable chemistry, an untamed force driving you towards her. Her eyes followed your every move, filled with a love that yearned to be free from constraints.

Wanda's touch was gentle yet firm, her hands on your waist guiding your movements with a confidence that only came from a deep understanding. As you twirled and spun, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a realm where the intensity of your love was matched only by the beauty of your dance.

When the music built to its crescendo, Wanda's grip on you tightened her touch a grounding force in the midst of your internal storm. And in that final, breathtaking pose, as the music lingered in the air, your eyes locked onto each other's, a world of unspoken words passing between you.

As your heavy breathing slowed, the moment was broken when you turned away, walking out of her embrace,

“Why won't you just let me love you,” her voice echoed in the space, a plea that hung in the air like an unanswered question.

"Because I can't, Wanda," You whispered, your voice tinged with a hint of sadness. The reality of the situation weighed heavily, the knowledge that your love existed in a world that did not understand.

“Yes, you can” she countered, coming closer to you.

“People will find out. And when they find out theyll talk.” you exasperated, The weight of the world's judgment pressed down on you, suffocating the love that burned within you.

Wanda turned to face you, her expression determined. "Then hide me. Lock me away from the world if you have to," She breathed out, her voice carrying a plea that mirrored the depth of her feelings. She was willing to sacrifice her visibility, her place in the world, if it meant keeping your love intact. “I just want to be with you Y/n. Why can't you see that?”

It was your deep affection for her that filled you with guilt, knowing that she deserved better than waht you were giving her. You believed she deserved someone who would cherish her openly, free from the shackles of secrecy that bound your love. Wanda's passion, her unwavering commitment, made your heart ache with love for her, but it also filled you with an overwhelming sense of guilt. You loved her so much that it hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to see her happy.

“I can't do that to you, Wanda.” Guilt welled up inside you, emotions spilling over like a river bursting its banks. “You deserve to be with someone different. Someone who can love you without fear.”

“But I don't want that!” Her breathing was heavy and her, eyes burned with anger. "I am yours, Y/n," she declared, her voice sharp with passion. "All I want in return is your love, And you can't even give me that.”

You noticed how her bottom lip pushed out ever so slightly, just like it always did when she was trying not to cry.

The pain of your recent avoidance cut deep into her heart, leaving a constant ache that refused to subside. All she wanted was you, all she ever wanted was you, and your unmistakable withdrawal over the past few months had left her feeling lost in a suffocating pit of self-doubt. Why were you so eager to get away from her? Why couldn't she make you stay, even when she had tried her hardest? Was she not good enough to hold your attention?

These questions ate away at her and she had never felt so small, like an insignificant fragment in a world that once felt whole.

“You ignore me and push me away without any explanation.” Her voice was loud as it echoed across the stage. The hurt and insecurity painted on her face. “You're always leaving me. It's like you don't even care about my feelings!”

“Of course I care about your feelings” You turned to her, your own anger begining to rise up inside you. “You’re all I think about, everything I do is for you!”

Every choice you had made was for Wanda, every step you had taken was to protect her from the storm that could come crashing down upon you both. Your love was genuine, but the fear was suffocating, threatening to eclipse everything

"You think this isn't hard for me?" your voice cracked with frustration, your eyes blazing with a mixture of emotions. "I am terrified, Wanda. Every time I see you or feel you, it's like I'm drowning in the fear of what could happen.”

"You make me feel things I never wanted to feel," your breath came out in rapid bursts, as your vision became clouded by tears. "And I'm afraid that those feelings will be written all over me,” Your emotions began to feel overwhelming, the room closing in around you, suffocating you with its walls and the weight of your fear. “So this is the only way I know how to keep us safe, to keep you safe." Your words were punctuated by a sob, choked and raw. The walls you had erected were crumbling, and you were left standing bare before Wanda.

“and It's hard Wanda, it's so fucking hard. I miss you, all the time.” the confession tumbled out, your voice breaking as tears cascaded down your cheeks, the floodgates finally opening.

At the sight of your panicked tears, Wanda immediately rushed to you, her steps were loud across the stage until she caught you in her embrace, wrapping her arms around you in a warm, comforting hold, Wishing she could take away all the pain and fear you felt at that moment.

“Im sorry, Im sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to yell.” The tenderness in her voice was like a soothing balm, her arms holding you even tighter, as you fell into her body.

"I can’t-” You gasped, The fabric of her shirt absorbed the tears that fell from your eyes, “I cant loose you wanda”

The sobs that wracked your body were a release, a catharsis of emotions that had been pent up for far too long.

“You’re not. You are absolutely not losing me,” she reassured you, her words slightly muffled as she pressed kisses to your tear-stained cheeks. You instinctively clung onto her, worried she would disappear.

With her arms wrapped around you, Wanda's touch became your anchor. Her hands moved in tender circles on your back, a gesture of comfort that sent ripples of calm through your frazzled nerves. At that moment, the world seemed to blur and fade, leaving only the two of you cocooned in an intimate haven of solace

Your heartbeat slowed and your breathing relaxed against her. Her breath brushed against your ear, her voice was a gentle whisper, "I can't be without you, y/n" she admitted, spilling out the truths in her heart. “I know you're scared but please don't push me away.” The tenderness in her voice deepened as she continued, her words a balm to your fears. “I don't know what will happen in the future but I can swear to you that im not going anywhere.”

In those words, a sense of solace enveloped you, like a gentle embrace for your weary heart. With her by your side, the fear that had kept you captive began to lose its grip, replaced by a flicker of hope and the reassurance that you didn't have to carry the burden alone.

“Im sorry I avoided you” You whispered not bringing your gaze up to face Wanda as if you were hiding from your actions. “I was awful. I should have just talked to you.”

Wanda brought her hand to your chin tilting your face up until your eyes met hers.

"It's okay, I know you're trying to protect us both," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "But you don't have to do it alone. Whatever happens, We can face it together."

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting Wanda's words melt into your skin. The attentiveness of her understanding touched you deeply, and You started to wonder how you could ever be away from her.

“I love you, so much,” you confessed hoping she could feel your sincerity “And i’m so sorry that I ever made you feel like I didnt.”

Her relief evident in her smile. She cupped your face, her touch grounding you in the present moment. Wanda leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss.

“I love you, more than you could ever know.”

In that stolen moment on the stage, beneath the watchful eyes of the empty velvet seats, your love was a dance in itself – a dance of vulnerability and strength, of passion and tenderness. And as you held each other close, you knew that the opera house, with all its secrets and faded grandeur, held a space where your love could flourish, defying the boundaries of time and circumstance.

[champagnedrunkandhorny]

Daemon Targaryen x Reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

"Her lips, her skin, her nose, her eyes, her legs around my head, that is what I want, Syrax" said Rhaenyra to her loyal she-dragon, "and I´m going to get it."

Her half-sister wasn´t like any Hightower spawns. as Daemon would call them. She was determained, soft when anyone was looking, but behind her mask, she was coniving little minsk. Not even a few days ago, Daemon caught a Gold cloak climbing down from her window. After that, the princess was moved to the highest tower in the Red Keep, how ironic. If the green queen thought that would stop the shenigens, well she thought wrong. The little minsk was twrilling around. Her silk skirt moving in circles as she glides with the who-counts-anymore lord. Everyone in the ballroom tried not to stare at the little Targeryen. But her impish eyes moved only to Rhaenyra, enjoying the heiress´ full attention, and to her current partner, keeping him on his toes. "You look ravishing, when you are jealous, wife." Daemon chuckles behind his glass. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes and angled her body away from the little minsk. "Shouldn´t you be also jealous, husband." Daemon shakes his head "Oh, I am rather intrigued by your cat and mouse game." Don´t be fooled, Daemon is the Rogue prince and will cut down any idiot that tries to even look at his wife. But seeing Rhaenyra so preoccupied with his other niece, seemed to only stirr his cock, and sometimes, almost always, he allowed the small man to lead him.

As they were talking, the princess was getting slowly more annoyed. The once intresting Lord of who-knows-what couldn´t get his greasy gaze away from her, she can´t think of any more conversation´s topics and this spiel is only so long intresting as she gets to play it with Rhaenyra. She scrowls as she watches Daemon, she doesn´t call him uncle, take the heiress´attention away from her. "Lord, would you be so kind to acompany me to my table. I am parched." She doesn´t even have to look his way. Already knowing, that his mouth will water at even getting 2 feet away from the royal family. She suddely signals him to wrap his arm around her ellbow.

She could practically feel their gazes on her. Oh, what a coincidence, that her chair is right there, where they could see the young couple. "Let´s see what will the dragon do, when you pull it´s tail." the minsk thought as she angles her chest to the lord and puffs out her chest, widdening her eyes a little bit and pouting out her lips.

Rhaenyra and Daemon stopped what they were doing and watched as the princess grips the man´s biceps and whispers something. He looked as if his brain stopped working. His eyes were focused on her breasts. Rhaenyra gripped the glass under her fingers.

What none of them expected was to watch as the lord grips the lower back of the young princess, traps her in his arms and moved his wine-painted small lips her way.

That´s where the chaos started.

Daemon, that was already on the edge of his seat, sprang up. Sure, he doesn´t like Hightowers, but he is not going to watch a small, unimportant, non-Valaryen decent defily his family member in front of him.

Before he could get to him, the previously mentioned Princess, swingged her arm and smacked him across the face. Not only the smack was heard, but also the breaking of the glass Rhaenyra was holding.

The lord that was strucked, didn´t even have time to come to his senses as the Rogue prince grabbed him along with some Golden cloacks and dragged him away from the scene.

Luckely, Rhaenyra caused enough comotion for the ball attendees, that they didn´t see the other scene. Half of them were drunk or too far away to witness it going down.

The servents quickly jumped to clean away the mess. In that moment, the younger princess seemed to come to her senses. She looked around. Luckely, her mother and brothers were already in their chambers. If her mother or grandfather had witnessed that, she would be already on her ship to the Oldtown or whatever hellhole they found for her.

"Princess, you don´t seem well. Why don´t I guide you to your chambers?" A silver voice made it´s way into her ear. The girl looked up to meet her violet eyes with her older sisters.

here is the full work if you wanna read the smutty part

[amostimprobabledream]

A Pale Jewel (Astarion x Reader)

AU also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56341306 It was too damn hot. You learned against a pillar, the fan in your hand working frantically to bring even a fraction of relief to your overly warm skin.

Really, it would be more practical to move across the ballroom to the open doors that lead out onto the huge balcony that lead out onto the gardens, with the white curtains fluttering flirtatiously in the night breeze. But that was easier said than done with how crowded and stuffy the room is. It seems as though every square inch of the elaborate marble flooring is taken up by rustling taffeta, silk, velvet and all other manner of fabrics in jewel tones, topped with glittering diamonds or lustrous strings of pearls. The fancy dresses some of the ladies were wearing took up so much room, like an overcrowded dock full of pretty boats bobbing on their own waves. The men, too, had gone all out for this ball, and while their sharp suits didn't take up as much space as skirts fluffed up with petticoats, but they were still flamboyant enough that it almost hurt your eyes to try and take in so much at once. You couldn't help but feel intimidated by being here, like any moment someone would spot something about you - a slip of the tongue, some small breach of etiquette like putting the wrong liquor in the wrong kind of glass, and all heads would snap in your direction, before cries of 'intruder!' would ring out. And then…what? They'd cast you out like a beggar? Form a circle around you to laugh and point? You knew these options conjured up by your fevered imagination were highly unlikely, but not impossible, and the uncertainty spread in the pit of your stomach like a blooming mould. You hoped your uneasiness wasn't obvious on your face - or if it was, it would simply translate into being uncomfortable in the stifling heat of the ballroom. You're not surprised that the friends you came with dispersed about the room to catch up with friends who were also in attendance. Your invitation had been extended genuinely, but it was something of a fluke, a last-minute cancellation that was instead extended to you. You tried not to take the others going off to talk to their acquaintances personally, though you did feel awkward and unguarded, standing here alone watching the people dancing.

As you intercepted a passing waiter to grab a glass of wine - not necessarily because you liked the taste, but because it would hopefully be chilled and give you a more obvious reason for why you're not dancing with anyone, you accidentally raised your eyes as you picked it up. Across the ballroom were three figures, also lounging beside a pillar. They're as finely dressed as everyone else here was, but there was something different about them, something that set them apart from the giddy revellers. The figure in the middle is the one that drew in your gaze, though. His suit was one of the more ostentatious ones you've seen, pitch black velvet with silver embroidery that seemed to shimmer with even the smallest movement, putting you in mind of the scales of a fish. The silver thread complements his hair, elaborately coiffed silver curls that must have taken quite a bit of time to get so perfect. There's something about his posture too, a subtle grace in his movements, back straight and an aristocratic, almost haughty, tilt to his head. And then, as you were observing the stranger, watching him gesticulating as he talked, he looked over. At you. You weren’t close enough to see his eyes properly, especially with the masquerade mask on his face that looks like liquid mercury, but there's no mistaking the prickle on your skin that comes from being watched. You stiffened, raising your wineglass to your lips in an effort to look casual. Mental images of the man pointing at you, the two beside him turning and laughing flooded your brain, but that isn't what happened. Instead, he smiled.

It was a slow, sensuous quirk of his lips, like watching honey being drizzled over fresh pastry. It would be sweet – perhaps overly so – but the heat of his stare and the slight unevenness of his smile, one side of his mouth rising higher than the other, adds a roguish, sultry flare that left you unable to look away.

Your fingers tightened around your wineglass, feeling your face growing warmer and it had nothing to do with the room’s overall stuffy humidity. Funny that something as simple as a smile and a look could have such a profound effect on you, especially when people doing so much more – a lustful up-down stare, compliments, resting a hand on your body, often left you indifferent at best or disgusted at worst.

Curiously, by the time you lowered your glass, he was gone. A potent, contradictory feeling of both disappointment and relief flooded through your body at the space where he was just standing. Perhaps it’s for the best – if a handsome stranger was capable of getting you so worked up just from a mere glance, you dread to think how big of a fool you could possibly make of yourself if you actually spoke to him, or even was just in his line of vision for too long.

“Ah, there you are!” a voice said.

You turned to see Lorna, who was the one who had invited you here, approaching you, slightly out of breath. She shot you a rueful little smile, fanning herself ineffectively with her hand.

“I’ve been looking for you, but it is so hard to see anything with all these masks and fancy clothes on display.” she said, apologetically. “Are you all right? You look a little flushed.”

“Oh, it’s just…so unbearably warm in here.” You replied quickly, with a little laugh that was just a bit too fast to be authentic, but fortunately for you, Lorna wasn’t the kind of person to pick up on little nuances like that. “Where are the others?”

“Oh, Demerius is over there, I think he danced with Melody before. Demerius!” Slowly, you turned.

Lorna’s group had mostly been welcoming when you joined them for tonight – you knew a couple of them already, and for those you didn’t know, you could tell one or two of them who were strangers to you were a little confused by the sudden change, but nobody had outright objected. And there was one of Lorna’s friends who had caught your eye, which was a little ridiculous since he’d barely spoken to you all evening. Lorna told you he was always a little standoffish with strangers, and that had made you hopeful that perhaps he might open up to you as the evening went on. The quality of being unknowable was an attractive one to you, there was a perverse sort of pleasure in trying to peer beneath the surface into whatever lay beneath. You’d always liked that over someone who wore their thoughts and feelings so obviously.

“How was dancing with Melody?” Lorna teased as he approached, brow faintly shiny with perspiration.

“Enthusiastic,” came his response, his eyes cutting between you and Lorna. “She found another rakish young noble to be swept away by when the song changed, so I thought I’d find a replacement.”

He was looking at you, the butterfly mask on his face doing a good job of concealing his emotions, but your insides give a peculiar kind of lurch as the implications of what he’s saying sunk in. You swallowed, wishing you had another glass of wine in your hand for courage.

“I’d love to-" you began.

“Lorna, will you dance with me?” he said at the same time as you.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Lorna’s face flushed, and you knew she’d heard you. You could only cling onto the desperate hope that Demerius’s voice had drowned out yours to his ears, you didn’t think you could stand the embarrassment. Shame tinged you everywhere – your cheeks, your neck, your ears.

“-go. Outside! I think I’ll go outside!” you said loudly, smiling widely as though this would convince anyone that you were just fine, thanks. “You two have fun.”

You thought Lorna said your name, but you ignored her, almost shoving your way through the crowd. Shame had proven to have an unexpected benefit – now you were so driven by your urgent need to get away from Lorna and Demerius that you no longer cared if you knocked into someone or looked ungainly – getting out of here was the only thing that mattered. The other dancers swirling around almost seemed to mock you as you plunged past them, giddy laughter ringing in your ears.

Outside, it was dark and blessedly quiet. You weren’t entirely alone, several people had slipped out to get some reprieve from the activity inside, but nearly all of them were either in groups or couples. You could hear people giggling and whispering to each other in the shadows, the rustling of skirts or soft crunching of gravel as several partygoers wandered about the gardens – apparently there was a large maze near the back and some of the most daring guests wanted to try their hand at navigating it.

You weren’t interested in mazes, and approached the stone wall that wrapped around the balcony, leaning your elbow on it and taking in a couple of deep breaths of night air, the scent of the blossoms carried on the gentle wind helping to calm you down.

They probably won’t even remember that. You reassured yourself. They’ll dance, drink and forget all about it.

But that didn’t do much to make you feel less stupid, or less like you’re an outsider. You didn’t really belong there and for a second, you’d let yourself forget that, and the universe quickly corrected that mistake. You’re almost tempted to slip away right here and now, to get away from this gaudy place of masks and other such illusions, but you swallowed down the urge. Instead, you expelled a loud sigh and leaned forwards, listening to the sloshing of the fountain below you.

Vaguely, you couldn’t help wondering what dancing with the handsome stranger in the silver mask would be like, but dismiss that thought before it can take root. It would probably be utterly nerve-wracking – his posture alone made you think he was probably a decent dancer, and you barely knew the steps. You’d be more likely to step on his foot and offend him irreparably than dazzle him with any witty banter. Coming up with any while being whirled around would be a challenge, for one thing.

…But the thought of him putting a hand on your waist made your heart pick up the pace like a pony going from a walk to a trot.

Get a grip on yourself. You scolded yourself, folding your fan away. You’re acting like a teenager. “My, and here I thought all that glamour inside was impressive. It seems there is more beauty to behold out here.”

You nearly plummeted headfirst off the balcony in your shock, turning around at the sound of a smooth, amused voice.

It’s him. The stranger from before. Though he was backlit by the ballroom behind him, it’s not so dark that you couldn’t make out his face. He wasn’t handsome – he was gorgeous. Up close you could see that his skin looked smooth and flawless as marble, and behind that mask his eyes were a pretty shade of red, like a garnet.

You tried hard not to gawk at him like a slack jawed idiot, even though seeing him so close was even more intimidating then having him smirking at you from across the dancefloor.

“Oh, I just…wanted to get away from it all for a minute.” You said, inwardly congratulating yourself for managing to sound fairly casual. “I’m assuming it’s the same for you?”

“Oh, yes. It is wonderful to be admired by so many others, of course, but even I need a little reprieve from it now and then.” The man confirmed in his posh tones, though there was a subtly teasing, sarcastic edge to his voice that prevented him from sounding like those humourless prigs you sometimes got in high society. He strolled over and leaned against the wall in a pose that looked a little too polished to be natural. “And who might you be, darling?”

Your mouth twitched at being called ‘darling’ in that tone, and you told him your name. He hummed and repeated it like he was savouring it in his mouth like a fancy chocolate.

“I am Astarion,” he said, tilting his head. “A pleasure.”

Was it your imagination, or did he put an unnecessary amount of emphasis on that word?

You nodded and it was odd but you felt almost like you were drunk, trying hard to focus on the words he was saying and smile and nod in all the correct places instead of letting your imagination run away with you, but your errant thoughts that didn’t want to be tightly contained kept thinking that the moonlight made him look even better than he did indoors.

“I couldn’t help but overhear that little…exchange in there.” Astarion said abruptly, and you hated how easily your embarrassment came flooding back to you.

“Oh, that.” You said, as if you hadn’t been agonising over it since it happened. “Just got our wires crossed, that’s all- “

“It truly is shocking to know there can be people who are so stupid and uncouth.” Astarion said, steamrolling over your breezy attempt to downplay the moment.

“Wh- you think so?” you said, hoping he meant Demerius and not you.

“Oh, yes.” Astarion answered, turning to you with a sly smile on his face. “Were I to offer to dance with a lady, I would not do so by insulting her friend in the same breath. Especially not one as lovely as you.”

“You’re laying on the flattery a little thick there, aren’t you?” you snickered, pretending like you weren’t loving it.

Astarion knew – he always knew when his honeyed words were getting to someone, and the smile you were trying to hide, tugging at the corners of your lips, only encouraged him to keep going. He lowered his voice to a sultry purr.

“Indeed, my dear. For instance, I would take her hand like this…”

His hand fastened around your wrist, and he pulled you to him, his other hand settled on your waist like it was why you had one in the first place. A soft gasp left your mouth as you were suddenly pressed flush against him, though his grip wasn’t tight or painful and you could wriggle away if you so chose.

You did not.

“Please tell me you’re not going to start up a waltz.” You said, jokingly, your heart now thumping so loudly you felt like he’d hear it. “I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Oh, you can’t be worse than some people I’ve had the misfortune to encounter in a ballroom.” Astarion replied, with a laugh that you couldn’t help but find charming, it invited you to laugh as well. “But this is much more pleasant than sweating alongside some drunken patriar who doesn’t know his ass from his elbow.”

He wasn’t wrong – it’s more private, and cooler. His hands were pleasingly cool to the touch, and you’re struck with a powerful urge to put your palm on his cheek to see if it applies to everywhere on him. Astarion’s eyes swept over your body as he held you to him. He’d seen you across the room – you looked so adorably alone, like a fawn abandoned by its mother. A pretty, tempting thing for a natural-born hunter such as himself to follow, to track down…

But holding you here like this, he found himself rather enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. Oh, it’s one thing to swoon people in a bawdy, crowded engagement while they’ve drunk far too much champagne, perhaps engage in some naughty fun behind a pillar or in an adjacent room, the thrill of getting caught a delicious accompaniment to physical delights…but this is a different kind of fun.

His hand left your hand and instead floated up, a finger tilting up your chin. Your eyes were huge and dark behind your simple, but stylish, mask, and he smiled.

“Of course,” he said, in a soft, lilting voice that required you to lean in some more to hear better. Oh grandma, what big teeth you have… “There are other things to do besides dance…”

And he kissed you.

Except, like Astarion’s smile, calling it a simple “kiss” didn’t do it justice.

His mouth was smooth against your own, and the moment his mouth even slightly made contact with yours, a surge of tingles erupted at the point of contact. Your lips were easy to part, so shocked were you by the suddenness of what was going on. Astarion was masterful at getting access to your mouth and the thought of refusing didn’t once across your mind. Instead, you sank into it, a blissful sigh muffled against his lips. He chuckled fondly, the hand on your waist tugging in closer, and the rest of the world, the revellers around you clustered on the balcony or wandering down into the gardens and maze beyond, vanished from your awareness. Your waist felt hot where his hand was touching it, like a brand, and when his tongue slipped into your mouth it sent a shiver skittering over your body.

He bit your lip, gently, not hard enough to draw blood, it was just a little jolt that made the sweetness of the kiss all the better. His free hand slid over your body with an intent that could only be called lascivious, squeezing your body as if he was testing its firmness. Heat engulfed you, a very different beast from the mugginess you’d been suffering from before. When his hand slid over your breasts, held by the corset of your dress as they were, you didn’t protest.

“Darling…” he purred as he broke away to let you breathe, and you gulped in a lungful of evening air like someone thirsty will gulp down water.

You murmured something unintelligible – it was probably his name – and Astarion decided to up the ante. His hands latched around your waist and in one smooth, practiced movement, you were suddenly sitting on the stone wall. The stone was much colder than everything else and the chill bit into the undersides of your thighs through your dress, but you barely noticed. Not with Astarion insinuating himself between your thighs to keep kissing you, enjoying this newfound angle. He didn’t leave it at just your mouth, either – he nipped a line of playful little bites down your neck, on your collarbone, sending small fissions of pleasure with each one, like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Propriety flying out of the window, you responded by wrapping your legs around his trim hips, kissing him back with fervour until your lips started to feel numb, wrapping your arms around him and carding your fingers through his gleaming silvery hair.

You couldn’t even blame it on the wine – you’d only drunk two glasses of it since you got here. No, this was lust. Lust and the exhilaration of being seen. Of something you’d never have presumed for yourself being practically handed to you, and you seizing it with both hands. Literally, in fact.

It was hard to say how things might have gone. If Astarion had taken your hand and led you into a dark corner, you had no doubt you would have followed. He would have taken a lot more, and you weren’t sure if you could or would have refused. Not when you felt so good, not when he took notice of you when it seemed like nobody else bothered.

But then, when he had his lips pressed to your neck, Astarion paused, like he was listening to something. You thought maybe he heard a clock chiming and wondered what time it was now, and he suddenly stopped what he was doing, almost freezing like a deer hearing the snap of a branch.

Slowly, gently almost, he pulled back, away from you. Some of your lipstick was smudged across his mouth, though in a way that somehow looked Avant Garde instead of messy, and he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back into place.

“Astarion?” you asked, slightly confused, quickly closing your legs and sitting up straight.

He stared at you for a moment, and you couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t the sultry come-hither smile he’d been giving you across the room, nor was it the playful half-smirk he wore when he was joking. It wasn’t angry or disappointed, either, which was something. If you had to name it, it was more contemplative.

“You are sweet,” he eventually said, but far from that being a seductive or patronising statement, there was something in his voice that was almost…rueful.

“I…did I do something wrong?” you asked, feeling silly and slightly helpless, like you’ve failed at grabbing a rope you were meant to use to climb out of a pit.

“No, dear, you haven’t done anything,” Astarion said, and his tone was assuring enough that it eased some of the sting out of the sudden withdrawal. He reached out and gently ran his fingers through your hair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “But duty calls, I’m afraid. I must go.”

You nodded, not wanting to seem childish or desperate in your desire for him to stay. You opted not to ask what possible ‘duty’ he could have at a masquerade ball, either. You decided it was none of your business and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeming too curious. And Lorna was probably wondering where you were by now, no doubt she felt equally as embarrassed as you at Demerius and his faux pas.

“Alright,” you said, giving a quick lick of your lips, still feeling a tingling sensation from where his mouth had been.

“But rest assured,” Astarion hummed, drawing so close to you that you were barely inches apart. “Our paths will no doubt cross again, darling. Until then…”

He pressed a swift kiss to your knuckles, and you’d normally hate that, you’d find it cheesy and horribly presumptuous, but when Astarion does it, it’s somehow charming and made your stupid heart (and other places) clench in response.

With a last smirk, he left, disappearing back into the ballroom and being swallowed up by the light and drunken laughter. It felt like a mirage, like you came out here, passed out, and imagined the whole encounter.

…But your lips are still kiss-swollen and bitten, and your lipstick was smudged too, you could tell it was without needing a mirror to confirm it. You definitely didn’t do that to yourself, and you hugged the knowledge of it to your chest like a comforting pillow.

A figure appeared on the balcony, and you relaxed. Lorna.

“Oh, there you are! I was worried you’d gone!” Lorna said, making her way over to you. Her skin is shiny with sweat and her hair is starting to fall out of its elegant style. It seemed that Demetrius might not have been as graceful as he might have looked at first glance. “Why are you sitting out here alone?”

“I wasn’t alone. I was just talking with someone, actually.” You replied, slightly defensively. “But he had to leave.”

Lorna examined your face and a sly smile crept across it. You touched at your mouth self-consciously and pink came off at your fingertips.

“It looks like you had plenty to say,” Lorna said in a teasing voice, her eyes alighting on the love bites that now littered your neck.

“Shut up…” you said without heat, a smirk pulling at your lips.

“Come on – I think I’ve had enough dancing for one evening, and there’s a terrible argument going on inside.” Lorna said, holding her hand out for to you take. “What say we get something to eat, and you can tell me all about your mystery man? Do you think you’ll see him again?”

You accepted her hand and jumped down from the wall. You glanced up at the bright, full moon above you and thought of Astarion’s words, his voice teasing – promising? – he’d see you again. Your hand ghosted across the necklace you wore, the pendant hanging just over your loudly beating heart.

“I hope so.”