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harryspet · 11 months ago

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yours to tame (1) r. cameron

[warnings] dark!alpha!rafe x reader, pogue!beta!reader, alpha!sarah x reader, werewolf au, a/b/o dynamics, ward is pack alpha, soulmate bond, forced marking, future NONCON/DUBCON READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: new short series yayyy

In which the Moon Goddess cruelly picks Rafe Cameron to be your soulmate.

word count: 4.3k

main masterlist

You’d only come to this side of the island for two reasons: Sarah Cameron and your job at the country club. The rest of your time was spent with your friends in The Cut. The bars there had much better company. You dealt with Kooks enough, working as a beverage cart girl on the golf course. It was difficult for you to hold your tongue around them, that’s why you’d almost been fired twice, but luckily, your boss was a former Pogue who had a soft spot for you.

The only way you’d entered the Alpha of Kildare’s house, Tannyhill, so far was through a window. Sarah hadn’t wanted to introduce you to her family yet, but today, he actually asked you to come to the front door. Her stepmom Rose answered the door, and Sarah introduced the two of you. Although Rose had a smile on her face throughout the short introduction, it was clear she disapproved of Sarah’s taste in friends. You met Wheezie too, who was much more welcoming.

Although you were a Beta, you didn’t come from good stock. Your Dad became a Rogue not long after you were born, and your mother was always so depressed that you practically raised yourself. Although Sarah was an Alpha, her family saw her more as a bargaining chip to eventually be married off to the Alpha of another pack. Everyone assumed that her oldest brother would be the one to take over Kildare.

Up in her room, Sarah quickly introduced you to her bed. You and Sarah were good friends ninety percent of the time when she and John B. were going strong, but the other ten percent when she and John B. were on the rocks, the two of you were much more than friends. Apparently, they’d gotten into a big fight last night, and, at first, you listened to her complain about how he hadn’t been making enough time for her lately.

“His deal is that he won’t invest more into us until we’re officially mated or whatever. But we’re so young, you know?”

“Sarah …what’s the real reason?”

She sighed, shaking her head, “It is because we’re young. I know we’re going to be together at the end of … all of this. But maybe I just don’t want to piss off my Dad just yet. He’d kick me out …”

“And then you’d be a full-on Pogue,” You finished for her, “I guess I get it. This house is insane.”

Sarah was needy, and oftentimes, she needed intense passion and adventure to feel loved. Once she finished venting, there was a change in her eyes as her mood shifted. From longing and sadness toward lust.

You never liked Alphas, maybe that’s why you didn’t care about getting on John B’s bad side, but Sarah was different. She didn’t carry around a dark aura of corruption or force her will on others. She knew what she wanted all the time, and she was always willing to work to get it.

You laid beside her, heads pressed against the pillows of her bed. She placed a hand on your waist and batted her long eyelashes at you. Slowly, her hands wandered underneath your t-shirt, “Would you want to sleep over?” She leaned closer, her voice soft, “I don’t think I want to be alone tonight.”

“Sure,” You answered as she leaned in to press her soft, full lips onto yours. The grip on your waist grew tighter as she pulled you closer. Although Sarah was an Alpha, she didn’t crave dominating you. You liked that she saw you as an equal. When she kissed you, she did it for both her pleasure and yours.

She felt you up, massaging your breasts through your bra as the two of you made out.

Hooking up with Sarah Cameron often involved a heavy makeout session followed by dry humping. Sarah liked to be on top because, you imagined, she liked the attention. She could work magic with her hips and wanted you to hold her waist as she did. You also had a perfect view of her from this angle. She pushed her dirty-blonde hair from her face, smirking down at you.

“Have you ever been in heat, Y/N?” She asked.

You thought about her question, “Not the typical kind, and it might happen once or twice a year.”

“What does it feel like?”

You frowned, “You feel weak like you don’t have control of your own body. And it makes me lack the ability to make good decisions. Remember when I hooked up with that Touron just because I thought his car was cool? Yeah, that was my heat.”

Sarah laughed, “I’m so glad you didn’t get knocked up.”

“You and me both,” you smiled at her.

You stared at each other for a moment before Sarah leaned back down to kiss you. However, a pounding on the door interrupted you two. “Sarah! Sarah Cameron,” A deep voice sang from the other side of the door. As your heart jumped out of your chest, Sarah crawled off of you. She grabbed ahold of her shirt, trying to turn her shirt the right way around so she could put it on.

You moved to fix your hair, but the door opened just as Sarah shouted, “Don’t come in!”

“Sarah, why are there scratches on my truck?” The tall man narrowed his eyes on Sarah. His scent was strong, overpowering almost, and you felt a cloud of worry over you at the sight of him. You were distracted for a moment, the air had gone out of your lungs, but you remembered to fix the spaghetti straps on your top.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t scratch your truck, Rafe!”

He rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah, why’d I find your damn bike right next to it. I told you to be careful, I don’t understand why you’re so hard-headed, you know? You’re going to pay to get it fixed.”

Sarah was the one rolling her eyes, “You’re insane if you think I’m doing that. I’m telling you, it wasn’t me.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you. All you do is lie, Sarah,” At the word lie his eyes finally landed on you, taking you in. Scenting you, no doubt, “This your friend? John B. know how many friends you have?”

“Screw you,” She hissed.

You knew Rafe because everyone did. You knew what he was like mostly because of a girl you work with, an Omega named Sofia. He was like most Alphas, who preferred an Omega mate because they craved control, and he seemed like to type to pick someone purely based on how fertile they were. Sarah rarely talked about her own brother, and you were beginning to understand why.

“I know you,” His eyes narrowed at you before he could place where he remembered you, “Cart girl.”

“Whiskey neat,” You responded, remembering what he always ordered. You also remembered he usually tipped well, even if he barely made eye contact with you.

“Her name is Y/N.”

“You have some type of fetish for Pogues?” She scoffed, “You blow my mind, you really do.”

She lunged forward, pushing his chest, “Get out!” She commanded. He was clearly angry but wouldn’t challenge her further. He stepped back, turning on his heels, and she slammed the door as soon as he was in the hallway.

“Ugh,” She groaned, her fists clenching, “I’m sorry, he’s . . . he’s rude and horrible.”

“I can see that,” You grabbed ahold of her hand as she climbed back on the bed. You attempted to calm her down, rubbing circles in her palm, “I’ve got thick skin, don’t worry.”

“You know you’re not just a hook-up, right?” Sarah looked at you, sincerity in her gaze.

“Yeah,” You nodded, “Usually, for me, hooking up implies sex. We clearly haven’t done that.”

Her eyes darkened, and a mischievous smile grew on your face, “Oh, that’s my fault,” Sarah leaned in, “I didn’t want to scare you off, but …I wanna fuck that shit out of you, Y/N.”

“I’m all yours, Alpha,” You teased her, and that was the final straw before Sarah Cameron wrapped her arms around you and didn’t let you go for the entire night.

You arrived at the bonfire by the beach later than all your friends. You were trying to catch up with them, already on your third hard seltzer, and the buzz was quickly setting in. You were hesitant to go to a bonfire with both Kooks and Pogues invited, but so far, the night had been civil. There was a clear segregation, with a lot of the Kooks at the top of the beach by the dunes and a lot of the Pogues closer to the water. You were currently watching JJ and Pope wrestle each other in the sand.

You bet 10 dollars on Pope winning while Kie was dead set on her boyfriend winning, “JJ has had like 8 beers. He literally becomes the Hulk when he’s shit-faced.”

“So? Pope is way smarter, though,” You retorted, “He’ll figure out a way to win.”

“You got me there,” You and Kie laughed together.

Whenever you thought Pope might tap out, you screamed at him to keep going. It was an intense battle, but before the two of you knew it, Pope had kicked JJ’s feet from under him. JJ fell back into the shallow water, clearly hitting his head, “Shit,” You and Kie cursed simultaneously before you ran towards them.

“You okay, JJ?” You kneeled down, looking down at his glazed-over eyes, “Did you pass out?”

Slowly, he shook his head, “Nah,” he groaned, “Pope just took the wind out of me.”

“You better not have a concussion,” Kie told him.

After knowing JJ was fine, you cleared your throat, “No rush, of course, but I’ll be waiting for my ten bucks.”

“Yeah, whatever,” You heard Kie say, but you were already celebrating with Pope.

As the rest of the night went on, you drank a little bit more than your normal limit. You were having the time of your life hanging out by the water and catching up with the people you hadn’t seen since graduation.

You were standing by the fire, red solo cup in your hand, when you felt a hard tap on your shoulder, “Where’s Sarah?” A shrill voice asked, and you turned around to be met with the snarling face of a preppy, black-haired Kook.

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Sarah Cameron?” She shrieked again, “Where is she? I know you know her, and I know she’s here!”

You looked around you, all of your friends now staring at you, “I know her, yeah, but you might have some vision problems because she’s clearly not here.”

You recognized the girl from the Glisson family, one of the most prominent families on the island.

You moved to turn back towards the fire but the feral Kook was still yelling, “Fine, I need you to give her a message—”

Maybe it was the liquor but the sound of her voice was starting to make your blood boil. She was not respecting your personal space and she seemed entitled to your attention, “Do I look like her fucking assistant?”

“Y/N,” You heard Pope’s voice, “She’s plastered.”

You rolled your eyes at the warning.

“Tell that bitch to stop running her mouth about me, especially to her brother. I am …I am not a whore. She’s the whore,” So this is what the Glisson girl was on about. Sarah had told Rafe she wasn’t the innocent virgin she claimed to be, “She’s the one with low standards, who fucks dirty Pogues, and pretends like she’s a good girl.”

You took a breath and stared back at the girl, “What did you say your name was?”

“Uh,” The girl was taken aback for a moment, “Madison Glisson, you can tell her the message was from me. And that she’ll be sorry when I am Luna of her pack.”

“Madison,” You smiled, “You got it. I’ll tell Sarah that you called her a dirty whore, and then I’ll tell her I beat your ass–”

As you tackled the girl to the ground, your friends began to shout your name in unison. Your drink spilled all over her, thankfully, and you quickly had the upper hand. Sand scratched you wrestled to hold her down. You’d already sniffed out that she was a Beta, and she was able to put up a fight once she got her bearings, but you were already whaling at her face, “You dumb bitch,” You shouted, “Who do you think you’re talking to, huh?” She screamed, trying to scratch and grab at your clothes.

Your anger was partially because you felt protective of Sarah, but you also felt the girl had made a direct attack on your character and friends. You weren’t perfect, Sarah definitely wasn’t, but neither of you acted like you were.

“Y/N, someone's going to call the cop!” You heard Kie shout.

Hands grabbed your waist, and initially, you thought it might be Pope or JJ, but the touch sent heat over your skin. The person lifted you easily, and you thrashed in their arms until you felt a sudden sense of calmness. As you were set down a few feet away from the fire, you locked eyes with Rafe Cameron. Your eyes grew impossibly wide, knowing that an Alpha’s touch should not feel like this, “You won, okay?” He said, lips parted and breathing heavily. His eyes were wide, too, looking down at you, “Wha …”

He pulled his hands from you, and that heat lingered on your waist. He stared at his ringed fingers, examining them, “W-What was that?” You finished, “Don’t …don’t touch me again.”

Rafe stood, backing away. With each step he took, there was an ache in your chest.

“Uh, Y/N, the cops are coming! We have to go!” You stumbled to your feet before you and your three friends ran in the opposite direction, away from Rafe Cameron.

Unfortunately, according to pack law, only Alphas can challenge other Alphas. Therefore, your case fell under the jurisdiction of Kildare County’s law enforcement. The Glisson’s pressed charges, of course, and you were facing a simple battery charge. The worst part was that they caught you on Friday night, which meant you had to spend the entire weekend in jail. You weren’t expecting anyone to put up any money for your bail, but it was just another shitty layer to your problem.

You weren’t looking forward to groveling and begging for your job back. You also knew word would get around and that the Kooks would gossip about your drunken mistake.

On Monday, you were surprised someone covered the entirety of your three-thousand-dollar bond. When you walked out of the jail in your dirty beach clothes, Rafe Cameron was certainly the last person you expected to see waiting for you. He usually expressed only indifference towards you, but he almost seemed…concerned, “Sarah sent you?” You asked immediately.

He shook his head, “Uh, no, I’m here for you,” He was backed against his large truck, his arms crossed in defense, “Because you did something so stupid."

“Excuse me?” You raised an eyebrow, “Whatever, I don’t want to know, goodbye.”

Swiftly, faster than you could comprehend, he grabbed your wrist. You yelped, quickly pulling your hand away. You remembered that electric feeling from the night on the beach, “I told you not to touch me,” You rushed out.

“Get in the car, I can explain, Y/N.”

“No!”

“Listen, I feel it too,” He said, which made you pause, “If you get in the car, I can explain what’s going on.”

“Sarah didn’t send you?”

“No one knows you’re out except me. And I haven’t seen her; she’s probably scheming with the other Pogues to raise your bail money.”

You rubbed your temples, “I need to call them.”

You realized then that you must’ve lost your phone during the fight. By now, if no one stole it, your phone had gone out with the tide.

“You can use my phone if you get in,” He offered.

“If you try anything–” Rafe was already opening up the passenger side door.

“Get in,” With a deep sigh, you climbed inside of his truck.

This was a bad idea, although you were on a roll when it came to making bad decisions. Besides, you were curious about this sudden connection you and Rafe were experiencing. It was nothing good, that you were sure of, but you needed to figure out how to stop it.

You were also sure he was working some Alpha voodoo on you. Rafe’s scent fully enveloped you inside the car, giving you that similar soothing feeling. When you tried to raise your defenses, to hone your heightened senses, you failed. You could barely concentrate on anything other than his smell.

“Phone?” You asked after the truck pulled off.

Although he seemed annoyed, Rafe pulled out his expensive phone, and typed in the password for you. Despite the fact that Sarah was confused as to why you were calling from her asshole brother’s phone, she was relieved to hear your voice. She and John B. had just entered a pawn shop, trying to sell some of her jewelry in order to raise money. You assure her that you’re okay and that Rafe is going to drop you at your house.

You didn’t let her interrogate you for long because you had some interrogating to do yourself.

“Go ahead, explain yourself,” You said.

“I’ve been, uh, questioning myself. You know, asking myself what kind of pack leader I’m going to be. How I’m going to live up to my Dad’s expectations and, uh, everything is becoming a lot clearer to me,” You stared with furrowed eyes, “Anyways, whatever, I realized, after I touched you that night on the beach, that we’re mates. True mates.”

“True mates …” You were already shaking your head, “What does that even mean?”

“Soulmates, Y/N!” Rafe gripped the wheel tightly, “Like hand-picked by the moon goddess kind of mates.”

“You and me?” You laughed.

“I’m not lying,” Rafe grabbed ahold of your hand roughly. Your breathing quickened, and your eyes locked with his. Every muscle in your body was telling you to focus on him, to look at him and let him gaze upon you.

“We’ll break the bond then,” You spoke through gritted teeth.

Rafe let go of you, focusing his eyes back on the road, “That would be … extremely painful. For the both of us.”

“I’m sure you would rather mate with someone else. Madison Glisson, for instance, remember her?”

“You do realize I just bailed you out of jail after you broke her nose, don’t you?” Rafe asked, “I’ve never been interested in her.”

“What about an Omega? Wouldn’t you rather have someone who’s going to listen and obey?”

“Betas are still ranked underneath Alphas. You’re supposed to listen and obey too–”

You scoffed, “I’m not that kind of Beta. See, it just doesn’t work.”

“I won’t reject you, Y/N, and you won't reject me either,” Your lips parted to respond, but you stared for a moment, dumbfounded, “Everything you had with my sister, or with anyone else, is over.”

“Rafe–”

“The Moon Goddess is offering you a great opportunity. A chance for a better life. Do…Do you have any idea what I could give you?” His voice grew deeper and darker. You should’ve known his nice guy routine was all an act to trap you here, “Huh?”

“I don’t want it.”

The car came to an abrupt stop as Rafe slammed on the brakes, pulling over into the dirt. The road was quiet but inside of Rafe’s car was far from that, “It’s Sarah. She’s got her little claws into you, yeah?”

“No, Rafe-”

“Yeah, I see what’s happening here,” Rafe nodded, “The way Sarah lives her life, toying with John B., messing with you, it’s not right. That’s no way to be a real leader.”

“She’s my friend,” You say, although you feel your voice growing smaller, Rafe’s presence taking over yours, “And I trust her more than I’d ever trust you.”

“Do you think she’ll be loyal to you once she knows about us?” Rafe smiled, although you knew he wasn’t happy at all, and his eyes began to water. There was nothing else you could say to him; you knew that, and it was clear he was expecting a different reaction from you. He wanted you to fawn over him, to see how he’d taken care of you, and he wanted you to say thank you. He wanted an Omega which you’d never be.

“Us? There will never be an us,” You sealed your fate with those words, grabbing the passenger door handle and practically falling out of Rafe’s truck.

“Hey!” He shouted, trying to grab at you.

Without another thought, you ran straight into the tree line. Despite the fact that you were running, you felt yourself breathe much easier, and your thoughts began to clear. That was the mate bond that you were feeling? You couldn’t imagine the Moon Goddess being so cruel to you.

You ran from him, ignoring how right your name sounded on his lips. As he gained on you, your wolf took over. You were an experienced shifter, and you felt no pain as your bones molded and shifted. Your clothes tore from your body as you felt your speed increase. You glanced behind you to see how far he was behind you, but you saw a towering black figure with glowing red eyes.

Angry with us, your wolf said; he’s angry with us.

Slow down, this was Rafe’s voice now echoing in your head. He shouldn’t be able to get in your head like this. He wasn’t your Alpha, and you never accepted the bond. At a certain point, it didn’t matter how fast you were, as Rafe’s wolf was naturally stronger than yours. You still put up a fight, ignoring your wolf, as you and Rafe suddenly collided. You rolled through the forest underbrush, fighting for control, until Rafe finally landed on top of you. You did what you could to get him to let you go, biting at whatever you could.

Shift, he tried to command you with his Alpha tone. You kept biting at him, which released an angry growl from his large form. Shift now, he tried again. Almost out of control, your wolf began to whimper. She hated that you were resisting him, rejecting him, and she began to punish you. You cried out as you were forced to shift, feeling every breaking bone and retracted claw or fang.

You were weaker than you’d ever felt, lying naked on the forest floor. It felt like the first time you had shifted when transforming had left you bruised and bedridden for days. You breathed heavily, staring up at the Alpha before you. Rafe shifted easily, a muscular figure replacing black fur, sparkling blue eyes replacing red ones.

“Please. Stop.”

“This is her will. Who am I to deny her?” Rafe grabbed your chin, turning your head to its side before sharp canines elongated from his mouth. Your shift had left you paralyzed, and you only could scream as Rafe sunk his teeth into your shoulder.

You and Sarah had many conversations about mate marks. John B. had almost bit Sarah in the middle of sex. It scared her so much she didn’t hook up with him for two months, although he was entirely apologetic. Alpha mates marked each other out of respect for their bond, and Alphas often marked Omegas to exhibit their claim. You knew immediately what Rafe had done wasn’t out of love or respect. He felt you slipping away and took the opportunity to try to control you.

Now, every wolf on the island would be able to sense Rafe in your own scent. They’d know you were claimed by, out of all people, the Alpha of Kildare’s son.

Rafe carried your naked figure back to his car; blood smeared over your skin before he finally drove you home. You were in and out of consciousness at that point, but you remembered hearing your mother’s panicked voice and Rafe placing you on the twin sized bed in your small room.

The next time you came to, both Sarah and your mother were in your room. Sarah stood by the door, her arms crossed tightly, and your mother was sitting on the bed beside you, “He just left her like this,” You heard Sarah say, venom in her tone, “I didn’t …I didn’t ever think he would do something like this.”

“He better make an honest woman out of her,” Your mother said, and you felt her grab ahold of your hand, “Alpha Ward will recognize their bond, won’t he?”

“He won’t be happy about this,” Sarah shook her head, “But he doesn’t ever reprimand Rafe in the way he should. Whatever Rafe wants, he’ll go along with it.”

“And what do you think he wants?”

“To hurt me,” Sarah answered, “I’m sorry about all this. I should go. She needs more rest.”

You turned your head, wincing, “Sarah,” You called out to her, but she was already slipping out the door.

“It’s okay, she’ll be back,” Your mother said, although you knew deep in your chest that everything was going to change now, “And Rafe, he told me that he would come back once you healed. He thought you might feel better faster if you were home with your family.”

As far as you were concerned, Sarah and the other pogues were closer to your family than the woman next to you would be, “You realize what he did to me…don’t you?”

“He chose you,” Your mother sounded almost cheerful, “And he’s going to be a very powerful man on this island. He’ll take care of you and me. Like your father never could …”

You turned your head to look at the ceiling, deciding then you’d use whatever energy you had left to be far from here whenever Rafe decided to “come back”. Even if your wolf hated you forever because of it.

Let me know your thoughts and predictions! Those who reblog with their thoughts will be added to the taglist!

#alpha!rafe #dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outer banks smut #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #sarah cameron #sarah cameron x reader #black!reader #outer banks #a/b/o fic #a/b/o smut

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creative-caramel-coffee · 4 months ago

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Off Day Or Day Off

Summary: Reader has a bad day due to a chronic illness they struggle with (POTS). Luckily Lizzie and Scarlett look after her.

Tw: headache, mild pots, exhaustion / fatigue, pain medicine, mentions of passing out

Words: 2129

A/n sorry for such a long absence I got diagnosed with POTS so I have been in and out of the hospital for appointments for the past few weeks. So, this fic is kinda just me projecting. Also, POTS stands for Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (for those who don’t know). Let me know if you want a part 2.

You knew today was going to be hard when you opened your eyes to see your alarm had already been going off for a good half hour.

Whilst not something that was unusual for you, it did pose some insight into how the rest of the day may go. Taking a deep breath, you gathered the strength to sit up, still feeling exhausted to your bones and wanting nothing more than to lay back down and keep sleeping.

Reaching out to smack the alarm in order to finally get it to shut up, it took a few tries to finally hit the button.

You were tired despite having slept over the recommended eight hours. You were tired when you woke up and you had no doubt you would be tired when you went to sleep.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed you braced yourself to stand up. Once on your feet you stayed upright for a good half a second before sitting back down hard.

Yep, today was an off day.

Trying again you managed to stick the landing this time, but still had to pause to wait for the patches in your vision to clear up first before doing anything.

You were vaguely aware of a dull ache in your temples and a general feeling of malaise and fatigue across your whole body.

You leant against the wall of your bedroom while pulling on some fresh pant and swapping out your pyjama shirt for a clean and presentable top.

You fought to stay upright while hopping around to stick the socks over your cold feet.

Throwing your notebook and pencil case into your backpack before pulling your laptop off the charge you added it to your bag and slung it over your shoulder, not bothering to do up the zip just yet.

Scanning the room your eyes caught on the small medical pouch were you had left it the day before. Groaning you circled back to grab it and triple check it was stocked with extra electrolyte packets before tossing it into your already full bag.

Your footsteps were heavy on the stairs as you plodded down to the kitchen, the voices of your little sister and mother only seeming to aggravate your growing headache.

You gripped the railing as you descended the stairs just in case your fatigue flared anymore than it already had.

As you shuffled into the kitchen you distantly listened to your mum wish you a good morning. Feeling tired and slightly annoyed at the whole situation you mumbled something incoherent back to her.

Scarlett had been your mother for almost ten years now after the adoption had gone through. You had met on the set for one of her earlier marvel films and due to your less-than-ideal situation and close bond with the actress she had adopted you.

It hadn’t been until a few months into living with her that she begun to take notice of your fatigue and various other issues. She had been with you every step of the process to get diagnosed and despite your fears she had stayed by your side.

You had been managing your tachycardia for a long time now and the symptoms of POTS weren’t as intense as they once were. However, from time to time you still had flare up which caused you a lot of heart ache and suffering.

As you slid into your place at the kitchen table Scarlett set down a plate of bacon and toast for you whilst she continued listening to the constant chatter stemming from your younger sister.

Scarlett nodded along with Rose’s story as she observed you closely. She had noted something was off almost straight away and knew you were doing your best to keep up a front.

It was Scarlett’s day off and as such she was tasked with taking Rose to school as Colin had headed into work early for a meeting with the writers.

You weren’t too interested in the food your mother had given you. Despite loving bacon and usually chomping it down with gusto you felt gross and tired.

Scarlett took note of your slow pace and droopy eyes as she took roses dishes back to the sink and loaded them into the dishwasher.

Scarlett had been trying to help you get better at advocating for yourself by simply making you ask for her help. She hoped it would help you speak up for yourself more now that you had more recognised needs. However, she also knew when to step in and simply help if you didn’t ask first.

She frowned at the sight of your backpack slung over the back of the chair knowing full well she didn’t want you going to uni if you were unwell.

As you continued to poke at your food with a fork and a bored expression that barely masked the exhaustion Scarlett sent rose to get dressed.

“Alright munchkin, what’s going on?” Scarlett said sitting down next to you.

“‘M fine mum. Just tired, I didn’t sleep well.” You grumbled still mining away at the edge of the slightly burnt toast with your fork.

Scarlett frowned as she knew you had been asleep before ten after she had poked her head in at around nine fifty to see if you were up.

“In that case maybe you should stay home today and get some rest sweetheart.” Scarlett said softly.

“No. No, I’m ok.” You said shaking your head which wasn’t a great idea as the patches reappeared in your vision.

“Alright.” Scarlett said admitting defeat for now. “I have to take rose to school; do you need a lift to uni?” She asked and you nodded pushing away the full plate of food. “Ok then come get your shoes on.”

You nodded again and stood. Just as she had expected Scarlett watched as you swayed on your feet slightly, blinking rapidly to try and clear your vision as your hand blindly reached for the table to provide the support you needed dot stay upright.

“Alright. No.” Scarlett said. “Definitely not. You’re staying here sweet girl.”

“But i’m-“ you begun only to be cut off.

“If the next words out of your mouth are “I’m fine.” I’ll make you take the whole week off.” Scarlett said and your lips snapped shut. “Go make yourself comfortable on the couch, I’ll have lizzie come stay with you while I’m out. She has the day off too and before you start, I’m sure she would like to spend the time with you.” Scarlett said before you could protest hindering the younger actresses schedule with your change of plans.

Before you could protest Scarlett gave you a look that kept the words in your throat from leaving.

“You’re not a problem y/n. Lizzie loves to spend time with you, and it makes her feel better to be able to help you out. Plus, I don’t want to leave you here alone in case you need something or pass out.” She said sternly but kindly.

“But I haven’t passed out before.” You grumbled.

“There’s a first time for everything.” Scarlett said. “Now go get comfy while I call Lizzie.” She said pressing a kiss to your head and giving you a light shove in the direction of the living room.

As you settled into a small nest on the couch you begun scrolling through Disney plus before settling on something to watch. You heard Scarlett talking on the phone in the kitchen before she appeared and handed you a water bottle which no doubt was filled with electrolytes. She spoke to Lizzie for a bit longer before coming back once the call was done.

“Drink.” She instructed, nodding to the bottle in your lap. “Lizzie will be over soon. I have to take rose in and then we can have a movie day and see if Lizzie wants to join us.”

“Ok.” You mumbled feeling bad for ruining everyone’s plans.

“None of that. We love you and we would rather spend the day making you feel better than knowing you’re not ok and doing what we planned.” Scarlett said as she picked up roses backpack and grabbed her trainers from the doorway.

Rose came and hugged you goodbye before continuing her endless chatter about something or other as she and Scarlett disappeared out the doorway. Scarlett blowing you a kiss as she left.

Snuggling down into the blankets you felt your eyelids droop as the show played on in the background.

What couldn’t have been more than five minutes later the doorbell rang before the door opened. You knew Lizzie had a a key, but she always rung the doorbell before she let herself in just to let you know it was her.

You heard the door shut and the sound of her taking off her shoes before she came upstairs.

“Y/n?” She called out as she walked down the hallway.

“In here.” You said barely shouting.

A moment later Lizzie entered the room, her face looking a little sad at the sight of you all bundled up and sleepy, your arms wrapped around your water bottle as your eyes drifted shut.

“Hiii.” You mumbled quietly.

“Hi sweet girl. Oh, look at you, it’s not a good day, is it?” She asked as she took the seat beside you on the couch.

“No.” You huffed as you shuffled over into her side.

Lizzie’s hands went straight to your hair as she brushed her fingers through it. She guided your head to her lap and gently began braining locks of your hair. The feeling of her fingers on your scalp relaxed you as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Have some more to drink first baby, then you can have a nap, okay?” She said helping you sit up and sip some of the electrolyte drink before guiding you back to her lap as her hands took their place back in your hair.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep again.

The next time you woke up Lizzie’s hand was still gently massaging your head which was helping with the now whopping headache you had. You shifted slightly prompting Lizzie to look down from the show she had put on and see you were awake.

“Hi sweetheart, how are we feeling love?” She asked softly.

“Headache, tired and lousy.” You mumbled turning your face into her stomach making her chuckle softly at your cuteness.

“That’s no good.” She said frowning now she registered your words. “Want me to get your mum to bring some Panadol and a snack?” She asked and you nodded into her stomach.

Lizzie gently reached down and placed her hands over your ears to shield you from the noise as she began calling out to Scarlett who you hadn’t noticed return.

“Scar car you bring y/n/n some Panadol and a snack!” She called and you faintly heard your mum’s response before Lizzie was prompting you to drink some more of the electrolyte drink in your water bottle.

“Sorry I know this wasn’t what you two wanted to do on ur day off” you said to both actresses when Scarlett came in with some cupcakes, she and rose had baked the day before and a strip of Panadol.

“Honey…” Lizzie said looking sad. “I’ll always be here when you need me.” She said softly.

“Yeah, I can’t get rid of you.” Scarlett joked making all three of you laugh.

When you winced at the noise Scarlett went straight to mum mode as she popped out two of the tablets and put them in your hand before nodding to the water bottle.

“Alright, what are we watching?” Scarlett asked situating herself on your other side and pulling your legs into her lap, so you were laid across the two of them.

“Whatever y/n/n wants.” Lizzie said chucking the remote to you.

“I’m thinking marvel.” You grinned making both women groan in protest.

You put on age of ultron and barely twenty minutes in Lizzie’s gentle head scratches had lulled you back into the arms of sleep.

POTS was hard to live with but with all the people in your life supporting you it was bearable.

Part 2

@barbarasstar @charlie56

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novaursa · 3 months ago

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Chains of the Crown

- Summary: Gwayne promised to marry you. A promise he couldn't keep.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister of Rhaenyra and bonded with Silverwing. This is a continuation of Echoes of a Promise. If you want to read all parts in chronological order, you can find a list of my works on my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 936

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The room is heavy with the scent of burning logs and the rich, musky aroma of wine. And one can almost feel the warmth of the flames as they crackle and dance in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the opulent chamber. King Viserys sits slouched in his seat, fingers wrapped around a goblet, his gaze distant and clouded. The grief that settled into his bones since the loss of his beloved wife, Aemma, and their newborn son, Baelon, has yet to lift. It clings to him like a shroud, dulling his once vibrant spirit.

Across from him stands Otto Hightower, a figure of stoic persistence, his expression carefully composed as he watches the king. This is not the first time Otto has approached Viserys with this proposal, but with each rejection, his frustration has grown more difficult to conceal. He knows the King well enough to see through the surface—the grief that clouds Viserys’s mind is also a barrier Otto has yet to penetrate. But today, Otto tells himself, today might be different.

"Your Grace," Otto begins, his voice measured, the tone he has honed over years of courtly service. "It has been nearly a month since we laid Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon to rest. The realm mourns with you, but the duties of the Crown must continue."

Viserys takes a long, slow sip from his goblet, not lifting his gaze to meet the Hand’s. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring, and Otto presses on.

"The Princess Y/N," Otto says, his voice firm, though he takes care to soften it when mentioning you. "She, too, bears this loss, but she is young, Your Grace. She has her whole life ahead of her. It would be wise to consider her future now, before others do."

Viserys exhales, a deep and weary sigh. "She is still a child, Otto. Her mother’s blood is barely cold in the ground, and you come to me with talk of marriage? I will not hear it."

Otto bows his head slightly, as though accepting the rebuke, but his persistence does not falter. "Your Grace, the Princess will have to marry eventually. It is the duty of all royal blood, especially one so close to the throne. Gwayne is of noble stock, a knight of the realm, and a Hightower—a house known for its loyalty to the Crown. He would make a fitting match."

Finally, Viserys looks up, his eyes narrowing as they meet Otto’s. There is a flicker of something—annoyance, perhaps, or a deeper anger that the King has kept at bay. "Gwayne," he says, the name dripping with distaste, "is a good knight. But you seem to forget, Otto, that Y/N is my daughter. My young daughter. She will not be bartered off like some trinket to further your family’s ambitions."

The words hang heavy in the air, but Otto does not waver. "Your Grace, I seek only what is best for the realm and for the Princess. She is of age where betrothals are often considered, and Gwayne could provide her with protection, stability. A marriage into House Hightower would strengthen—"

Viserys’s hand slams down on the armrest of his chair, the force of it cutting Otto off mid-sentence. The King’s face is flushed, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury. "Enough, Otto! I will not hear of it again!"

For the first time, Otto’s composure falters. His brow furrows as he searches Viserys’s face, looking for some sign of the man who once valued his counsel above all others. "Your Grace," he says, more carefully now, "it is not only about what is best for House Hightower, but for the Crown. The Princess is a dragonrider, yes, but she needs a husband who can stand by her side, who can—"

Viserys cuts him off with a sharp gesture. "No more! There will be no more talk of this. Y/N will marry when I say she is ready, and to whom I see fit. This discussion is over, Otto."

The finality in the King’s tone leaves no room for argument, but the tension in the room is palpable. Otto bows his head again, lower this time, hiding the frustration that threatens to show on his face. "As you wish, Your Grace," he says, though the words taste bitter on his tongue.

Viserys watches as Otto retreats, the Hand’s footsteps echoing softly in the chamber as he leaves. The King takes another deep draught from his goblet, the firelight reflecting in his weary eyes.

As the door closes behind Otto, Viserys slumps back in his chair, closing his eyes. He can still hear the words echoing in his mind—duty, marriage, protection. But all he can see is your face, so young and innocent, still shadowed with grief for the mother you lost, the brother who never drew breath.

"No more," he whispers to the empty room, as if saying it aloud could make it true. "There will be no more talks of this."

And as the flames continue to dance, casting their flickering light across the stone walls, the King remains there, a man adrift in a sea of sorrow, holding on to the only thing he has left—his love for his daughters, and his desperate need to protect you from a world that seems intent on taking all that he holds dear.

The corridors of the Red Keep are cold, despite the summer warmth that clings to the air outside. The stone walls seem to absorb the chill that emanates from Otto Hightower as he makes his way down the winding hallways. His face is a mask of restrained anger, each step he takes resonating with the frustration that has been building inside him for weeks, months even. His hands are clasped behind his back, knuckles white as he fights to maintain his composure.

Gwayne is waiting, as he was instructed to do, in one of the smaller antechambers. The room is sparsely decorated, the only source of light coming from a single window where the sun is beginning to set, casting long shadows across the floor. He paces back and forth, the soles of his boots scuffing against the stone, his anxiety barely contained. The seconds feel like hours as he waits for his father’s return, each one dragging on with the weight of expectation and hope.

When the door finally creaks open and Otto steps inside, Gwayne's pacing comes to an abrupt halt. He turns to face his father, a question already on his lips, but the words die in his throat as he takes in Otto’s expression. The older man’s face is stony, his lips pressed into a thin line, and Gwayne feels a cold knot of dread form in his stomach.

“Father?” Gwayne’s voice is tentative, uncertain. “What happened?”

Otto meets his son’s eyes, and for a moment, there is nothing but silence between them. Then, with a heavy sigh, Otto shakes his head. The gesture is small, almost imperceptible, but it sends Gwayne’s world tilting on its axis. His mouth goes dry, and he feels a strange hollowness in his chest, as though the breath has been knocked out of him.

“The King has refused,” Otto says, his voice tight, betraying the frustration he feels. “He will not entertain the idea of a match between you and the Princess Y/N.”

Gwayne’s expression falters, confusion and disbelief warring on his face. “But why?” he asks, his voice rough with the desperation that he can barely keep at bay. “I was certain… I thought surely he would see the wisdom in such a union. I—”

Otto cuts him off with a sharp gesture, his patience fraying. “Viserys is blinded by grief. He sees only a child in the Princess, and he will not hear reason on the matter. He is determined to keep her close, to protect her from the very world she was born into.”

Gwayne stands there, stunned, as his father’s words sink in. His mind races, trying to make sense of it, to find some way to fight against this reality that he cannot accept. The room feels as though it’s closing in around him, the air growing thin, and he has to force himself to breathe.

“There will be other matches,” Otto continues, his tone softening as he tries to temper the blow. “You are a Hightower, and there will be other opportunities, other noblewomen who would be honored to—”

“No.” The word slips out before Gwayne can stop it, and his father looks at him sharply. Gwayne’s face twists in pain, his heart aching with a deep, agonizing sense of loss that he cannot explain to Otto, cannot share with anyone. He swallows hard, trying to regain control of himself, to bury the emotions that threaten to overwhelm him. But it is no use; the pain is too great, too raw.

“I came to care for her, Father,” Gwayne says quietly, his voice strained, barely above a whisper. “I… I care for her more than I ever thought possible.”

Otto regards his son with a mixture of surprise and something akin to pity. He had known Gwayne to be earnest in his pursuit of the match, but this… this depth of feeling is unexpected. And yet, Otto is no stranger to the game of thrones, to the sacrifices and compromises it demands. He does not allow himself to indulge in sentimentality.

“Feelings can be dangerous in matters such as these,” Otto says, his voice gentler now, though it carries the weight of experience. “I understand your disappointment, but you must learn to control your heart. The Princess is not the only path forward.”

But Gwayne is not listening. His thoughts have already drifted away, back to the nights he spent with you, the whispered promises, the stolen moments. He can still feel the warmth of your skin against his, the way you looked at him with trust and affection, the way you both believed—if only for a moment—that the future was yours to shape.

He promised you. He promised that he would make you his wife, that you would be together. It was not supposed to be like this.

He clenches his fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he struggles to keep his composure in front of his father. He cannot tell Otto the truth of what happened between you, of how you gave yourselves to each other, of the love that blossomed between you in secret. He cannot bear to see the disappointment in his father’s eyes, the judgment that would surely follow.

Instead, he nods stiffly, forcing himself to speak, though the words taste like ash in his mouth. “I understand, Father. But…” He hesitates, searching for the right words, for some way to convey the depth of his pain without revealing too much. “But she is different. Y/N… she is unlike anyone else. I thought I could make her happy. I thought I could protect her.”

Otto’s expression softens, just a fraction, as he places a hand on Gwayne’s shoulder. “I know you did, my son,” he says quietly. “But the King’s will is clear. We must respect it. The Princess’s future is not in your hands, and you must accept that.”

Gwayne closes his eyes, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over. He cannot show weakness, not now. But the ache in his chest is unbearable, the sense of loss overwhelming. How can he accept it when everything inside him screams to fight, to hold on to the one thing that brought him true joy?

But he says nothing, only nods again, his silence speaking volumes. Otto squeezes his shoulder before stepping back, his expression once more composed, though a flicker of concern lingers in his eyes.

“Come,” Otto says, turning toward the door. “There are other matters that require our attention.”

Gwayne follows his father out of the room, his steps heavy, his heart even heavier. As they walk through the corridors, he cannot help but feel as though he is leaving something vital behind, something he may never reclaim.

And as the sun sets over King’s Landing, casting the world in shadows, Gwayne Hightower battles silently with the pain of a rejection that cuts deeper than any sword, knowing that the promises he made to you are now broken, scattered to the winds like so many ashes.

The moon hangs high in the night sky, its pale light filtering through the narrow windows of your chambers, casting the room in a soft, ethereal glow. The fire in the hearth has burned low, the embers crackling quietly, filling the room with a gentle warmth that is at odds with the cold ache in your heart. You sit on the edge of your bed, your mind heavy with the weight of the day’s events, the tear tracks still fresh on your cheeks.

You had gone to your father earlier, determined to speak with him, to plead your case. But Viserys had refused to listen, his grief a wall that neither words nor love could penetrate. His rejection had left you hollow, the last hope you clung to slipping away like sand through your fingers.

A soft knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, and you quickly wipe at your cheeks, trying to compose yourself. You know who it is before the door even opens. You can feel him, the pull between you both as strong as ever, a connection that refuses to be severed by mere words or decrees.

The Kingsguard stationed outside your chambers nods to Gwayne as he approaches, recognizing the unspoken permission that exists between the two of you. Without a word, the knight steps aside, allowing Gwayne to enter. The door closes softly behind him, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist. It is just the two of you, alone in the stillness of the night.

As soon as he steps into the room, you rise from the bed, your heart leaping at the sight of him, but the pain still lingers. You cross the room quickly, meeting him halfway, and as soon as he’s within reach, you throw your arms around him, holding him tightly, as if letting go would mean losing him forever. Gwayne’s arms wrap around you in return, his embrace warm and comforting, but you can feel the tension in his muscles, the same sorrow that grips you mirrored in him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers into your hair, his voice rough with emotion. You can feel the tremor in his breath, the way he clings to you as if you are his anchor in a storm.

You shake your head against his chest, your tears dampening the fabric of his tunic. “It’s not your fault, Gwayne,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “I spoke with him too… He wouldn’t listen. He’s so lost in his grief. He can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

Gwayne pulls back slightly, just enough to look down at you, his blue eyes dark and filled with a sorrow that reflects your own. “If I could do anything… anything at all to change his mind, I would,” he says, his hand coming up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “I would give anything to be with you, Y/N. To make you my wife, as we both wanted.”

Your heart aches at his words, the love you feel for him so deep, so overwhelming, that it’s almost too much to bear. “I know,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, your eyes searching his. “But what we want… it doesn’t matter to him. Not now.”

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “It matters to me,” he says softly, his voice a vow. “It matters to us.”

Your breath hitches, the weight of his words sinking into you, grounding you. You close the small distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that is filled with all the love, all the desperation that you both feel. It’s soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters, but soon it deepens, becoming more intense, more urgent.

As your lips move against his, you pour all your emotions into the kiss—your love, your fear, your sorrow. You kiss him like it’s the last time, like the world outside your chambers no longer exists, and for a moment, it doesn’t. There is only you and Gwayne, your hearts beating as one, the connection between you too strong to be denied.

His hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, and you let out a soft gasp as his lips leave yours to trail along your jaw, down the column of your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him more access, your fingers threading through his hair as you hold him to you.

“Gwayne,” you whisper, his name a plea on your lips, and he responds by capturing your mouth again in a searing kiss, one that leaves you breathless and yearning for more.

As your lips part, you both stare at each other for a moment, your breaths mingling, your hearts racing. Without a word, you begin to undress each other, your fingers trembling slightly as you untie the laces of his tunic, as he loosens the ties of your gown. The fabric falls away, forgotten on the floor, and soon you are both bare before each other, the cool night air brushing against your heated skin.

Gwayne’s eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his gaze reverent, filled with a love that makes your heart swell. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands skimming over your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

You reach out, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “So are you,” you whisper, your voice filled with awe, as if you can’t quite believe that he’s here, that this moment is real.

He leans down, capturing your lips once more as he guides you toward the bed. You move together in a dance that is both familiar and new, your bodies fitting together perfectly as he lowers you onto the soft sheets. The mattress dips under your weight, and Gwayne hovers over you, his gaze locking with yours, the intensity of his emotions mirrored in your own.

As he lowers himself onto you, you feel his warmth, his weight, grounding you in the moment, and when he enters you, it’s with a tenderness that brings tears to your eyes. He moves slowly, savoring every second, every inch, as if committing this moment to memory, as if this is all that matters in the world.

You wrap your arms around his back, holding him close as he begins to move within you, your breaths mingling, your bodies entwined. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, connected in a way that is deeper than words, deeper than any bond you have ever known.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, your voice catching with emotion, and he responds with a kiss that steals your breath, his movements growing more urgent, more passionate.

“I love you too,” he murmurs back, his voice rough with the weight of his feelings. “More than anything. More than life itself.”

The room is filled with the sounds of your lovemaking, soft gasps and murmured words of love as you move together, your bodies seeking solace in one another. Each touch, each kiss, is a promise, a vow that even if the world outside seeks to tear you apart, nothing can break the bond that you share.

Gwayne’s hands move over your body, memorizing the feel of your skin, the curve of your waist, the way you shiver under his touch. He kisses you deeply, his lips worshipping every part of you, as if trying to make up for the time that will be lost, for the future that has been denied.

You match his fervor, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his waist as you pull him closer, wanting to feel every part of him, to imprint this moment into your very soul. There is no rush, no hurry to reach the peak of pleasure, only the desire to be with each other, to savor every second of this connection.

When the release finally comes, it’s with a wave of emotion that leaves you both breathless, your bodies trembling in each other’s arms. Gwayne collapses against you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he holds you tightly, as if afraid to let go.

You run your fingers through his hair, your touch soothing, your heart filled with a bittersweet mixture of love and sorrow. You know that this moment cannot last, that the morning will come too soon, and with it, the reality of your separation. But for now, in this quiet, sacred space, you allow yourself to simply be with him, to hold onto this love that you share, even if only for a little while longer.

As the night wears on, you lay together, your bodies still entwined, your hearts beating in time with one another. The world outside is forgotten, and all that remains is the love that binds you, the connection that refuses to be broken.

The dawn breaks gently over King’s Landing. The air is crisp with the promise of a new day, but the weight in your heart makes it difficult to appreciate the beauty of the morning. You dress carefully, your hands trembling slightly as you fasten the laces of your gown, each movement deliberate, each breath a reminder of the moment you have been dreading.

The courtyard is already bustling with activity by the time you make your way down from your chambers. The clatter of hooves on cobblestone, the low murmur of voices, and the occasional bark of a command from one of the guards fill the air. The preparations for Gwayne’s departure are well underway, but your mind barely registers the sounds around you. Your focus is entirely on the figure standing by the stables, his back turned as he oversees the squire who is readying his horse.

Gwayne is dressed in traveling gear, his tunic a deep shade of green, the Hightower crest embroidered on his cloak. His hair catches the early morning light, and for a moment, you can almost forget that this is a farewell. Almost.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you approach. Each step feels heavier than the last, as if the very earth is conspiring to keep you from reaching him. But you force yourself to move forward, to do what must be done, even as your heart aches with every step.

As you draw nearer, Gwayne turns, sensing your presence before you even speak. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world stands still. You both pause, your gazes locking, and in that brief moment, the emotions that you have tried so hard to keep in check threaten to overwhelm you. But then you remember where you are, who might be watching, and you force a smile to your lips, though it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Princess Y/N,” Gwayne greets you formally, inclining his head slightly, though there is a warmth in his voice that belies the stiffness of his words. “You honor me with your presence this morning.”

You curtsy in response, your heart clenching at the formality between you, a sharp contrast to the intimacy you shared just hours ago. “Ser Gwayne,” you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye.”

There is a flicker of something in his eyes—sadness, perhaps, or regret—but it is gone almost as quickly as it appears. He nods, his expression carefully composed, though you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clench at his sides as if he is fighting the same battle you are.

“It is kind of you,” he says, his voice measured. “I will carry the memory of your kindness with me on my journey.”

Before you can respond, you hear the rustle of fabric behind you, and you turn to see Alicent approaching. She moves with a quiet grace, her face serene, but there is a sharpness in her eyes as she looks between you and Gwayne. You can tell that she has noticed the tension, the unspoken words that hang in the air, but to her credit, she does not mention it.

“Brother,” Alicent greets Gwayne with a warm smile, stepping forward to embrace him. “I was hoping to catch you before you left.”

Gwayne returns the embrace, a small smile softening his features. “You always find a way, Alicent,” he replies, his voice lighter now, though you can hear the strain beneath it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Alicent steps back, her eyes lingering on Gwayne’s face before she turns to you, her expression kind but curious. “Princess,” she says, inclining her head slightly. “It’s good to see you this morning.”

You nod, managing a small smile in return. “And you, Lady Alicent,” you reply, your voice polite, though your thoughts are elsewhere, focused on the man who stands beside you.

The squire finishes adjusting the saddle on Gwayne’s horse and steps back, giving a respectful nod to both you and Alicent. Gwayne acknowledges him with a word of thanks before turning his attention back to you.

“I must take my leave soon,” he says quietly, his eyes searching yours as if he is trying to memorize every detail of your face. “The road to Oldtown is long, and I shouldn’t delay.”

The reality of his departure hits you like a blow to the chest, but you force yourself to remain composed, to keep your emotions in check. “Of course,” you say, your voice betraying none of the turmoil inside you. “I wish you a safe journey, Ser Gwayne. May the gods watch over you.”

Gwayne’s lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you think he might say something more, something that would break the carefully constructed facade you both wear. But then he simply nods, his eyes filled with an unspoken understanding. “Thank you, Princess. Your words mean more to me than you know.”

Alicent watches the exchange silently, her gaze flicking between the two of you with a subtle curiosity. She is perceptive, and you know she senses the deeper emotions that lie beneath the surface, but she says nothing, allowing the moment to pass unchallenged.

Gwayne steps closer, his hand brushing against yours briefly—too brief, but enough to send a jolt through you. The touch is a secret, a promise, and you have to fight the urge to hold onto him, to beg him to stay. But you know you cannot, and so you let him go, your hand falling back to your side as he steps away.

He moves to his horse, swinging up into the saddle with the practiced ease of a seasoned knight. He looks down at you, his expression solemn, and for a moment, you see the man you love, not the knight, not the lord, but the man who shared your bed, your heart. You want to say something, anything, to keep him here, but the words die on your lips.

“Farewell, Your Grace,” he says, the formality returning, though his voice is soft, almost reverent. “I shall pray for your happiness and health.”

You nod, unable to trust your voice, and watch as he turns his horse toward the gates. The clatter of hooves echoes in the courtyard, each step taking him further away from you, until finally, he disappears from sight, leaving you standing there with a hollow ache in your chest.

Alicent steps closer, her hand resting gently on your arm, her eyes filled with a sympathy that cuts through the fog of your emotions. “He will return,” she says softly, her voice kind, though you can hear the undercurrent of something else—curiosity, perhaps, or concern.

You manage a small smile, though it feels brittle, fragile. “I know,” you reply, though the words feel empty. “But things will be different when he does.”

Alicent studies you for a moment, as if trying to decipher the meaning behind your words, but she does not press. Instead, she gives your arm a reassuring squeeze, her smile warm and genuine. “Come, Princess,” she says gently. “Let’s walk together. It’s a beautiful morning.”

You nod, grateful for the distraction, and allow her to lead you away from the courtyard, away from the emptiness that Gwayne’s departure has left behind. As you walk, you force yourself to focus on the present, on the sun rising higher in the sky, on the gentle breeze that carries the scent of blooming flowers. But no matter how hard you try, you cannot shake the feeling that a part of you has been left behind, carried away on the road to Oldtown, along with the man you love.

As you and Alicent walk through the gardens, the sounds of the castle fading into the distance, you find solace in her presence, in the shared silence that speaks louder than words. But deep down, you know that this day will be etched into your memory, a reminder of the love you have lost, and the future that has been denied.

#house of the dragon #alicent hightower #viserys targaryen #otto hightower #gwayne x reader #gwayne x you #gwayne x y/n #gwayne hightower #ser gwayne #silverwing

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gremlinmodetweeker · 3 months ago

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Accidental Meteor Showers

More summoned!König because I'm obsessed with him. Please help me, I think I'm possessed.

Accidental Meteor Showers

no tws, just Summoner trying to fight König but failing miserably.

You flopped onto your bed with a loud groan. Today hadn’t been the worst, but by no means had it been the best. By this point, nobody was bothering you in the barracks. The higher ups backed off, the other soldiers had settled behind them. Nobody wanted to deal with the wrath of your summon, who incidentally, was the source of your ire today.

Not once had he shown up for you today. Most days, he’d at least conjure a tentacle to slap at whatever was being thrown at you, but today he left you entirely on your own. It was a humiliating experience. If it weren’t for König’s intervention earlier, you’d surely be a laughing stock now, if you weren’t already. The next time you saw him-

A shadow flickered in the corner of your eye.

Son of a bitch.

“You!” you drew yourself up to glare at the offending presence, “where were you today?”

The dark shape stilled.

“I know you’re there. The lights flickered,” you growled.

And from the shadows he came. Once, his agile elegance enthralled you. Today, you were preparing to strangle him.

“Summoner?” König at least had the sense to sound off-kilter.

“Where were you?” you snarled as you crawled to the foot of the bed.

König glanced down at your posture, then back up to your face, “You’re not coming any closer, Summoner.”

“Make me!” you launched off the bed only to be pushed back down by an invisible force.

You thrashed fitfully against the pressure only to be flattened like an indignant child. Your limbs were stretched out as König slowly approached to loom above you.

“I had hoped we would be in a different set of circumstances when I had you like this before me,” he mused as you pulled against your immaterial restraints.

“Shut up!” you yowled, “I’m gonna-fuckin-I’m gonna punch you!”

König blinked slowly, “You are going to punch me?”

“Yeah!”

“And you suspect telling me this will encourage me to let you do as you please?” König sounded far too amused for your liking.

“Well, duh,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m your summoner. You listen to me!”

König walked around the side of the bed until he loomed above you. He leaned in until his hood draped over your face, leaving only his eyes visible to you.

“No.”

You managed to get your head up to smack his forehead, but he seemed unphased. Or rather, you phased right through him before falling back.

“You’re such a dick,” you seethed.

“You haven’t even told me why you are in such a cantankerous mood today,” König scoffed as he casually sat on the edge of the bed beside you.

You slumped back onto the bed with a pout. He was right. He was always right. Why did he have to be a cosmic being with unlimited knowledge and power beyond your understanding? Why couldn’t you have just summoned a stupid imp like you’d planned?

You sighed, “Okay, so, did you get any of my summoning calls today?”

König tilted his head.

“Any of them?”

“Summoner, are you saying I didn’t come to your call?” König seemed to tense up, “we both know that would be a strict violation of the bond we made. Are you suggesting that I am threatening the bond that I graciously offered you?”

You flushed, but pushed on, “Then where were you today? I called you at least five times!”

König seemed confused.

“But you didn’t,” König said slowly, almost as though you were the stupid one here.

“Excuse me!?” you spat, “what do you mean ‘you didn’t’!? I was calling you all day! Where the hell were you?”

König squinted. With a flick of his wrist, you felt the pressure relax and you were able to move again. Without missing a beat, you threw one of your fists at him. He caught it with a simple movement and pulled you into his arms.

“Summoner, I have a proposition for you,” he chuckled as you struggled against his hold, “why don’t you try summoning me here? Call it a test.”

“Why? So you can ignore me again?” you snorted.

“Just try, Summoner,” he pushed you to your feet towards the centre of the room.

You stumbled forth like an awkward duckling before catching yourself on a side table. You took the time to cast a dirty look at him, then walked to the center of the room. You took some chalk from your pocket and drew his symbol on the floor, carefully tracing the design on the hardwood with slow and steady strokes. You sat in the centre of your symbol and closed your eyes. You took a deep breath. The ancient words to summon König flowed freely from you, letting you feel the arcane power surge through your entire being, pulling you further to an enlightened place beyond comprehension. Or, well, you would have if König hadn’t placed a hand over your mouth.

You spluttered and pulled back with a furious look.

“Summoner,” König drawled, “you drew the wrong symbol.”

You blinked. You followed his claw to look down at the ground, but everything seemed perfectly in place. You stared at the ground and then back up at him.

“The third moon is waning, not waxing. And here,” he tapped the centre of the symbol, “you drew the constellations upside down.”

You squinted at the squiggles. Then it clicked.

You gasped, then covered your mouth as humiliation flushed over you.

“You’re right,” you squeaked.

“You’re lucky nothing responded to that summon,” König snorted, “or you would have had your flesh stripped from your bones.”

You paled.

“I jest, Summoner,” König playfully shoved your shoulder, “but in truth, you must be careful when drawing my symbol, lest you dredge up undesirable sorts. If you’d like, I can give you a reference.”

You sighed and hung your head.

“Please,” you held up your hands.

He took your right hand in his and brought it to his lips. He kissed it briefly, then let it drop to your side.

“There,” König said as you raised your hand to take a look. There, on the back of your hand, was a burned in tattoo of his summon. He’d branded you. You should have been furious, but you couldn’t help but find it so beautiful on your hand. It looked like it had always belonged there.

“Thank you,” you cradled your branded hand to your chest.

“Anytime, Summoner,” König ruffled your hair playfully, “now come, today has been long. You need rest.”

AU Masterlist

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magics-neptunes-things · 8 months ago

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Good 4 U (3)

Hi guys :)

This is the next and maybe last part of Good 4 U. I had some request for it, so here it is :)

TW : Jealousy mostly. Wälti Reader.

PART 1 | PART 2

______________________________________________________________

Time passes at London and you love your life in here. You love the fact that you can see your sister every day, her girlfriend that you love too. You like the city and the life you are slowly creating in here. You miss travelling sometimes, but when it’s the case you just leave for a couple of days and after that you go back to your house in St-Albans.

And to Katie, obviously. Your girlfriend is really understanding with you, she doesn’t seem to have something bad to say when you leave. She just ask you to be careful of course, but she always manage to be the one driving you to the airport or coming for you when you’re coming home. You have a great bond together and you can see you falling for her a little more every day.

You still work at the café, usually beginning early in the morning because no one wanted to have this schedule. But you like it, even if you have to wake up early, you have your day off at 3:00pm and you are able to make a lot of things after. Usually you see Katie, but sometimes it’s some other friends.

Katie being away for a game last night, you didn’t sleep at her house, or she didn’t sleep at yours. The team slept in a hotel and they are supposed to be back this morning. It’s Monday morning and there isn’t a lot of customers today, so you take the opportunity to go tidy up in the stocks.

“I’m coming” you scream when you hear the doorbell of the door resonate.

You are just putting a cardboard in place when you feel two arms around your waist, making you jump off your skin. You turn around and push the person with all of your strength, only to face the cheeky grin from your girlfriend.

“Are you crazy?!” you almost shout.

“I’m sorry” Katie laughs.

Despite everything, she opened her arms so that you could come and hug her. You glare at her before going for her, passing your arms around her neck while she passes hers around your waist once again.

“I’m glad you know how to defend yourself though. Were you going to hit me?”

“Definitely” you mumble against the skin of her neck, before kissing it. “I had to learn how to fight, it was an exigence from my dad if I wanted to travel the world.”

Katie just hums, not really fond of the idea of you being forced to use your skills in a dark alley on the other side of the globe. Your security is maybe the only things making her worry when you leave alone.

Katie releases you, but it’s only to take delicately your face in one hand to kiss you. You smile against her lip, kissing back.

“I missed you” you whisper against her lips before kissing her again.

“I missed you too. Did you have a great night?”

“Yeah. Coopurr, Teyah, Ella and I watched the game. And after I went home to sleep.”

“I will definitely tell them that you mention the cat first.”

Katie’s looking at you with a grin and you laugh slightly. Her house is full of people sometimes, but you like it. And you like her roommates too, even if it’s hard sometimes to just have time with her. Thanks god, Lia sleeps sometimes at Caitlin’s so you can have your girlfriend only for yourself.

The doorbell resonates again, and you lean over to see who it is. But Katie distracts you, kissing the hollow of your neck and making you shivers. And, before you can see who it is, she turns your face against her to kiss you once again.

“Y/N?”

“It’s Liam” you whisper against Katie’s lips.

She sighs but release you, before following you in in the main room of the establishment. Liam laughs when he sees you and Katie.

“Oho, kissing the customers in the background now?”

“Shut up”

You smile feeling the red coloring your cheeks and watch Katie when she passes you to go and settle on the other side of the counter. Of course she slaps slightly your bum in the process.

“A mango-strawberry smoothie and a coffee pretty please” she smiles.

You chat with Liam and Katie while making her drinks, letting Liam draining the coffee machine.

“What are we doing this afternoon?” Katie asks.

You smile, loving the fact that it’s now “we” not “you” anymore. You raise your eyes on her, thinking before talking.

“Can we just… go home? I miss having you just for myself. Lia is at Leah’s tonight”

“I would love that” Katie assures you before taking the drink you are handing her.

She starts to drink it and you take the command of two men during this time. You still chat a little bit with Katie while she enjoys her smoothie, until the doorbell ring again and Liam greets the newcomer. You have your back facing the entrance so you don’t see her at first.

“Hello there, how can I help you?” Liam says happily.

“Oh uh… I’m looking for someone naming Y/N?”

You frown, turning in the direction of the voice and need two seconds to realize who was asking you. Your peripherical vision see Katie looking at the girl with suspicion.

“Maria? What are you doing here?”

You go around the bar to greet her and take her in your arms.

“I was in London and I remembered you said to my sister that you were working in a café. I asked her the name of it and here I am!”

“It’s great to see you” you smile.

Not forgetting your girlfriend, you take Maria to Katie, smiling at the Irish woman and her very neutral face.

“Katie, this is Maria. I lived in her sister’s house when I was Costa Rica. And Maria, this is Katie, my girlfriend.”

Katie takes Maria’s hand to greets her, but the exchange between the two women is very cold. You don’t realize it though, Liam remembering you that your boss wont take long to come.

“I’m really sorry but now isn’t really the good moment Maria. Give me your number, I’ll call you later, ok?”

Maria nods, write her number on your notepad before hugging you goodbye. When she’s out, Katie following her with her eyes, your girlfriend turn herself in your direction.

“I got to go; I have some laundry to do. But we still hang on together after your job, right?”

“Of course” you smile.

Katie smiles and kisses your cheek before paying for her drink and leaving the café. You can’t stop your pout when she left, but a group of people are entering the place soon after and you have to focus on something else.

********

Some hours later, you are at your house, lying on the couch against Katie. She cooks for you while you took your shower and now you both are just sheeling in front of Lord of the ring. Katie’s choice, but she beats at rock, paper, scissor.

“Who the hell keeps writing you like this?” Katie groans when your phone vibrates on your pocket one more time.

“Maria” you answer, taking your phone in your hand.

“What does she want?”

“Seeing me”

You have your eyes on the screen to type your answer, so you don’t realize Katie’s reaction. She’s not really happy, for a reason that she can’t explain, she thinks that something is off in Maria. But Katie just take a breath before talking.

“And when are you seeing her?”

“I don’t know for now… Maybe she can come watch next Arsenal’s game? So she can see that my girlfriend is talented in addition to being hot and beautiful.”

Katie laughs and kiss you softly, her arms taking you against her. She doesn’t like Maria, but she does like the way you’re not hiding your attraction for her. Maybe she’s stupid to be jealous about a woman who is just able to hug you, unlike her. You choose her, after all, right? You literally change your lifestyle for her.

“Will you wear my jersey?”

You bite your lips, looking at her. For now, you only were wearing a Wälti one, supporting your big sister. Leah already tease Katie about it in front of everyone, but deep down you know it count for her. It will probably attract people eyes though and you don’t know how people would react at a possible relationship between you and the Katie McCabe.

“Is it really a good idea?”

“Why not?” Katie frowns.

You smile slightly, using your thumb to erase the wrinkles between her eyebrows.

“Won’t people ask questions if you come hugging a girl wearing your jersey after the game?”

Katie just shrugs before tightening her hold around you.

“I don’t care”

You laugh and roll your eyes, cuddling back against her, like you were before taking your phone off of your pocket.

“I will wear it” you answer finally, after some more thinking.

“Awesome” Katie grins before losing all interest in the film and start to kiss you.

********

Like you said to Katie, you invite Maria to watch the game. Katie gave you tickets in the family and friends area and just like your promised you’re wearing her jersey. It’s the first thing she looks for when she came on the pitch. She doesn’t know why it’s suddenly so important for her to see you with her name and her number, but she’s happy for having stressed you about it when she sees you. And Maria. And how much Maria is close to you.

“Who’s with my sister?” a frowning Lia asks Katie during the drill.

“A friend from Costa Rica” Katie grumbles back, focused on her ball.

“Oh, yeah. She talked to me about it.”

That makes Katie looking up, her eyebrows frowned once again. Seeing the way she’s looking at her, Lia stops what she was doing. Kyra was next to them, but it doesn’t change the things for Katie.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing much. Just that she has a friend from Costa Rica in London.”

Lia shrugs, Katie hums and Caitlin just appeared behind her girlfriend and her friend. The Aussie seems a little concerned.

“What’s happening?”

“Katie’s girlfriend is here with another girl and Katie doesn’t seem to like competition” Kyra grins, before running away laughing when Katie glares at her.

Caitlin and Lia laugh too. Katie prefers to look for you in the stand, crossing her eyes with you. You wave at her and she smiles at you, but Maria soon takes your attention, touching your arm before talking again.

“Will you be able to focus entirely on the game?"

Katie turns herself in the direction of Caitlin, who seems genuinely worried for her friend. Katie thought it was a teasing at first, but then she saw her gaze and rolls her eyes.

“Of course I will be.”

“Plus, there isn’t any competition. My sister is crazy about her.”

Lia rolls playfully her eyes, making Katie smirks. Now that she understood and saw how much Katie cares about you and how crazy about Katie you are, Lia is nothing but supportive about your relationship. Katie as always been a friend of her after all, it’s not for nothing. She knows the Irish woman’s qualities.

The game went great. It was not always easy for Arsenal, being a gooner is sometimes hard, but the girls managed to win, and, in your opinion, Katie played very well. She got subs at the 75 minutes, and, from the bench, she kept an eye on you.

She doesn’t have anything to blame you, to be honest. But the way Maria is looking at you is going to make her crazy. The way she’s constantly touching you, the way she’s looking at your lips when you are focused on the game in front of you… She’s getting really mad.

Her knee doesn’t seem to be able to stop getting up and down and her arms are crossed on her chest. Next to her, Leah looks at her with concern, patting her knee.

“What are you up to?”

“I’m going to kill that bitch.”

Leah frowns at that, looking in the same direction as Katie. She finds you and Maria, leaning on the metal fence at the bottom of the rows of seats. You are looking at the game, Caitlin and Lia are still on the pitch. Maria, in another hand, is discreetly looking at you. From the corner of her eyes, but from Leah and Katie point of view, it’s more than obvious. You don’t have a single clue.

“Who it is?” Leah asks.

“A friend. My ass.”

“Don’t go into a fight in public please.”

Katie’s fuming and Leah doesn’t know what to say. If someone was looking at her girlfriend like this, she would lose it too.

“Do you think something happened between them?”

Katie stays silent for some times, looking at you. She hates that idea, obviously. She knows you had your life before her, of course. But if she can stay away from your exes, she won’t say no.

“No. I hope she would have told me."

“I think she would have.”

Katie grumble, letting herself go against the back of her seat. She can’t wait for the end of the game. She just wants to run to you, takes you away from Maria and returns her to her homeland.

When the game is finished and the players can start their lap, Katie makes a beeline to you. You smile at her when she came to you, not expecting her to hug you as hard. But you hug her back anyway, enjoying her proximity like always.

“You’re all sticky.” you tease her when she lets you go.

She smirks at you and get closer for being able to whisper in your ears.

“I never heard you complain about that when it’s in the bedroom though.”

You became bright red and with a wink Katie left to go with the team to hear Jonas’ speech. You just have to look at Maria to know that she heard what Katie said, your girlfriend’s boldness seeming to surprise your friend. You choose to not add anything, waving back at your sister.

Some hours later, you are with some of the Arsenal players, celebrating the important victory. Most of them are scattered all over the establishment, the same one where you first met Katie. Katie who is currently with her arms possessively passed around your shoulders to keep you against her. Maria came with you, the Irish woman couldn’t say no when you ask her if your friend can come too.

She can stop flirting with you, whispering sweet nothing in your ear, stilling you kisses when you expect it the least and covering you with attention. Between that and the alcohol you drank, you’re having a hard time not to forget where you are. Especially right now, when Katie is biting your earlobe.

Over your shoulder, Katie intercedes Maria’s furious gaze in your direction and she can’t help but smirk.

“Let’s go home?” Katie whispers in your ear and you bite your lip.

You’re dying to accept, but it’s still early and no one left for now, you don’t want to be the first to leave.

“No one left now. And I feel bad leaving Maria all alone.”

“She’s not alone, she have more than ten people to pass time with.”

You hesitate a little more and Katie sighs, taking off from you suddenly. Her reaction loses you a little and you search in your memory what did to makes her react in this way. You gently take her hand in yours and you’ve relieved when she lets you. But, just after, Maria managed to get your attention again.

Katie doesn’t say anything for longs minutes, trying to ignore the laughs that Maria is drawing from you. It lasts some minutes, before Katie snapped, suddenly getting up from the bench and training you with her, taking you by the hand that was still in yours.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

But Katie doesn’t answer, dragging you outside, where you looked at the stars with her for the first time. The memory came once again in your brain, but the upset face of Katie makes you forget it for now.

“Do I have something to worry about?"

“What?”

You frown and Katie sighs. You understood what she said, you are just too surprised to react correctly right now. Katie repeats herself, making you feel like she’s going to explode soon.

“Maria. Do I have something to worry about?”

“No, why are you asking that?”

“Because she never stops looking at you like she’s going to push you against the next wall to ravish you!”

Your face becomes perfectly smooth under the surprise, only your slightly raised eyebrows cause very slight wrinkles on your forehead. Katie never raised her voice with you, but you never had any real fights either. Although we can’t talk about screaming right now, she’s rather carried away by her emotions, which you can’t blame her.

But Katie thinks the opposite and you see her face tinged with panic.

"I’m sorry, I just..."

Katie sighs again and passes both hands on the face taking a big suction before looking at you again.

"She’s clearly fancy you, and I can’t stand it. If at least she did it respectfully, but she didn’t. You told her you have a girlfriend, and she passes her time eyefucking you. I don’t like her.”

It’s your turn to sight, taking cupping one of Katie’s cheekbones with one of your hands. You are smiling slightly though, and you can feel Katie’s tension under your fingers.

“Of course not, you don’t have anything to worry about, Kate. I’m not in the slightest interested by her. I’m only looking at you, no one else.”

Katie bites her lip and come closer to you, looking deep in your eyes. Right into your soul.

“And you and her have never been a thing?”

“Never” you smile, your hand now cupping her jaw.

Your thumb is stroking the corner of her jaw when she leans in the obvious desire to kiss you. You let her, of course, passing your hands around her waist.

“Can we go home now please?” Katie asks softly.

“Of course we can.”

You’re completely surprised at how much jealousy has taken hold of Katie. The proud and strong Katie McCabe, turned into a fearful little kitten. You could tease her about that, but you decide not to do it now.

The little kitten quickly turns into the tigress that is Katie when you arrive home, anxious to remind you who you belong to.

On the other hand, the next day and the days after, you will not hesitate to tease her.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #katie mccabe #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe x reader

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burningcheese-merchant · 14 days ago

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"Hair Care" - BurningCheese Short #6

I promised a "Burning Spice is snuck into the Golden Cheese Kingdom" story, and I've come to deliver. I also promised wholesomeness, which... I mean, I hope it comes across that way. These two have their own brand of "wholesome", I think lol.

Special shout-out to @cheesecakemermaid1048 for coming up with the original concept of "bonding w/ Burning Spice via brushing his hair" (although I did go an extra mile in my interpretation here lol). Thanks so much again for letting me use this as a writing prompt! I hope you enjoy it especially!

"Grrrr..."

"I already told you that giving me attitude won't change anything, Burning Spice."

"Would razing your palace to the ground change anything?"

"Leave behind even a single scratch on a single one of my walls or columns, and I shall impale you with a thousand earthen spears on the spot."

"Do you promise?"

"It's inevitable."

"Even better, then."

Golden Cheese quickly shot him a pointed glare over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the hallway ahead of them. Completely empty, thank goodness; no one traversed this particular one at this hour of the day, she remembered. Or... they didn't tend to. Usually.

... It was a gamble she knows Mozzarella would've taken, had she been in her place. Calling for the palace to be temporarily emptied and closed would have been too easy, too simple. Daring to challenge one's own understanding of time and people's habits was a far greater risk, with a far more satisfying reward. Guaranteed victories are boring, after all.

Mozzarella wasn't there with them then, but Golden Cheese nevertheless found herself smiling and thanking her old friend for inspiring her in such a way.

Burning Spice, meanwhile, was currently the most miserable man on the face of the earth, and has been since Golden Cheese had the nerve to dictate where she would be taking him today (and instead of having their scheduled duel, as well, to add insult to injury). His petulant stomps left charred imprints all throughout the desert sands where they reunited - she demanded he control himself when they made it to her kingdom, so as not to draw attention and to not ruin her precious walkways - and echoed through the glittering halls and corridors as she dragged him along. How they haven't been spotted by any of her countless little subjects until now, he did not know, nor did he really care. He was frustrated enough that he almost preferred them being caught then whatever fresh hell she had in store for him in the rapidly approaching future.

So irritated was he, that he couldn't even bring himself to enjoy the fact that they were holding hands.

She eventually led him through some fancy doorway - past sky blue curtains and an archway and columns decorated with intricate carvings - and waiting for them beyond it was their promised destination: a fairly large and airy room with a great pool at the very center, with gold and white lilies dotting its calm surface and reeds sprouting in its corners. Surrounding it was an array of ornate stone and wooden tables, towel racks, smaller pools and individual baths, as well as beautifully carved shelves that seemed to be stocked with soaps, oils and incense. The afternoon sun shone through a massive hole in the ceiling, bathing much of the room in a warm, bright, golden light.

Burning Spice observed it all with a look of cranky disinterest. "A bath, huh?" His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "If you wanted to see me naked, little bird, all you had to do was ask."

"A spa, Burning Spice," Golden Cheese retorted. "This is the primary room for rest and relaxation here within my palace. My attendants are free to come in and put their minds and bodies at ease while they're on break, or after they've been relieved of their duties. They're also welcome to bring their friends and families, so long as they ask for permission first."

"'Ask for permission?' Pfft." A low chuckle rumbled deep within his throat. "How generous. How... soft. Of you AND them."

"It's civilized. That is what civilized behavior is like, Burning Spice. As we both know you've long since forgotten."

"'Civilized behavior'... heh. You think I care about such a pretentious, meaningless thing?"

"No, and it's evident by your appearance. Moreso than even the sun shining in the sky on a desert morning, in fact."

"Oh, don't pretend you don't enjoy seeing me- huh?!"

She didn't wait for him to finish his flirty diatribe and began dragging him over to one of those little baths, tightening her grip on his hand enough to earn an honest wince. When they reached it, she used her spear to nudge a nearby chair over, then whipped around, grabbed Burning Spice by the shoulders, and forced him down onto it before he could protest.

"Wait here a moment," she told him. "Let me go grab what we need."

"Who's 'we'?" he called after her indignantly as she walked off. No use; she moved along as if he'd never spoken in the first place.

To tide himself over and pass the time - that one minute that bore the weight and ache of an eternity - he made a game of letting his eyes go back and forth between scanning the room more closely and drinking in the sight of Golden Cheese's alluring backside as she gathered supplies from a shelf.

She seemed to sense his enamored gaze right away, though, and bristled accordingly. "Keep your eyes to yourself," she snapped at him without turning around.

"Or else what?" he fired back with a smirk, still raking his eyes up and down her body without remorse. "I'm already being punished, am I not? Now you can punish me with all this nonsense for a REAL reason."

"Clearly you aren't," she said as she made her way back to him, a towel hanging from one arm, and a bottle and hairbrush in each hand, "if you still feel bold enough to behave like this."

"But of course I do. How can I not, with such a pretty bird perched in front of me? Only the blind would ignore such beauty, do you not agree?"

She set the supplies down with a huff, her cheeks flushing pink at his words. "Well then, let's see if you still feel that way after we're done."

His flirtatious smile evaporated as she gathered all of his long, wild hair into her arms and narrowed her eyes at it. "Honestly, Burning Spice," she said, "how do you tolerate this... this mess?"

"By ignoring it," he said flatly. "So long as it isn't cut off, then I don't give a damn what happens to it otherwise."

"Well, I'm not tolerating this barbarism any longer. If you won't do anything about it, then I will."

"I could just get up and sit in the bath myself, you know." That suggestive look made a brief return. "And you could join me, if you wanted."

"I'd sooner join you in Hell," she said.

With that, she tossed his hair into the bath, watching as it floated and waved along the water's clear surface. She reached for the bottle, stowed away underneath the chair for safekeeping; the smell of eucalyptus wafted through the air as she popped it open and poured its contents into the water, turning it a pale green.

"What the hell is that?" Burning Spice asked, making a face as he sniffed at the air.

"Soap, you filthy animal," she snapped. "Shampoo and conditioner mixed into one solution. This particular bottle is from a very high-quality brand that is well-liked in my kingdom. I suggest you act grateful."

"Me, grateful? For what? For you kidnapping me and forcing me to endure a... a spa day that I wouldn't ask for in a million years?"

"Precisely," she said, staring down at him with a confident smile.

...So enchanting did Burning Spice find that smile of hers, that he softened just enough to let her work without further resistance.

She worked slowly but deliberately, the calm focus written on her features and the deft movement of her hands betraying her years of experience. His hair was thick and unkempt, practically an untamed jungle; so desperate for love and care that it almost seemed to seek her out on purpose, jet black tendrils creeping and coiling around her fingers and wrists as soon as her hands touched the water.

"When was the last time you even brushed your hair? These knots are atrocious."

He didn't answer her right away, instead scowling and shifting uncomfortably in his seat as she tugged on the strands closer to his scalp. "What does that matter?" he eventually scoffed. "Fussing over one's appearance is a complete waste of time, anyway."

"One's appearance is a cornerstone of one's overall well-being," she countered. "In my kingdom, cleanliness is seen as a form of godliness. It's all a matter of pride, of confidence, of proper self-esteem. Always look your best, always put your best foot forward, and others will be encouraged to see the best in you."

"You think taking a bath makes you a god? HA! Such foolish arrogance- OW!"

"Oh, stop it," Golden Cheese chided him as she pulled on and unraveled a particularly terrible knot. "To think you'd be such a big baby about something so trivial! If I'd known this while we were still enemies, I would've gone ahead and acted like a baby myself, and spent all of our battles pulling on your hair to make you cry."

He grunted in frustration, staring daggers at her as she freed the last remaining strands from that dreaded knot. She ignored him and continued on undeterred.

When she finished the first lather and rinse, working her way up to the top of his head and back down again, she shook her head. "Honestly, Burning Spice," she sighed. "I'm disappointed in you. Even a brute ought to take proper care of himself. How have you allowed this to stand for so long?"

"Because it doesn't matter to me at all," he muttered. "I'll give you that answer as many times as I need to, to get it through your pretty head."

"Of course it matters," she said, her eyes narrowing in annoyance again. "How can you even say that? Do you not hold yourself in any high esteem at all?"

"No."

She stopped, the wad of hair she'd been tending to now sitting limp in her hands. She looked at him in genuine shock - and he returned her look with one of... not quite anger, no. He was not angry. What she saw on his face, in his eyes, was... resignation, tinged with bitterness.

An awkward silence hung over them both before Golden Cheese cleared her throat. "Well, then," she said slowly, "If you can't be bothered to take care of yourself... then I shall do it for you. Alright?"

He softened again, a glimmer of pleasant surprise shining in his eyes. The silence quickly returned, right after Golden Cheese herself returned to her work... but it felt lighter this time.

Soon enough, she was quietly tapping on his shoulder. He understood what she wanted, no explanation necessary, and he slowly lifted his head up, sitting up straight once again. She gathered his hair in her arms and wrung it all out the best she could, then lifted it out of the bath, letting it fall and cling to his back. The soft pitter-patter of water droplets dripping from rogue strands of hair onto the floor filled their ears.

The silence otherwise persisted as Golden Cheese dried Burning Spice's hair with the towel she'd tucked away beneath the chair. He sat still, arms crossed, and neither said nor did anything to disturb her efforts, much to her continued surprise.

Soon enough, she traded the towel in for the hairbrush and quickly set about combing through those still-unruly locks. "It really is a shame, you know," she murmured. "You have gorgeous hair. You shouldn't treat it so poorly."

"Hmph..." He shrugged. "Whatever."

"I mean it, Burning Spice." She combed through another knot - more carefully than she'd done to the others in the bath, out of a newfound sense of concern for his comfort. "Even animals groom themselves better than you. I know you care enough to at least bathe, but there's more to self-care than just that."

"I bathe. I eat. I sleep. Those things are enough to keep me alive, are they not? I don't need anything else."

"They're enough to survive, yes..." She paused. "But... not to live, I don't think."

"You think bathing makes you a god," he muttered. "Of course you would say that."

She set the hairbrush aside for a moment and placed her hands on his shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. Instantly - perhaps instinctively - he leaned back, further into her grasp. Silently reveling in her touch.

"Burning Spice..." She sighed softly. "I have long since vanquished you. You're no longer a threat to this world." She hesitated, searching her mind for the right words to say next. "You... you can't hurt anyone anymore. Not on my watch. Perhaps... it's time you included yourself there, as well."

At that, he tensed, but still said nothing. She pulled her hands away (did she sense... disappointment from him when she did so?) and grabbed the hairbrush again, once more returning to grooming the man in front of her. She tried her best to be efficient, but still gentle; combing through each and every lock, more eager than ever to leave them looking better than they did before.

She took longer than she probably should have. (Perhaps she'd started allowing herself to enjoy how... soft and luxurious his hair was.) But even so, when she was finally done, she set the hairbrush down again and circled around to the front.

"There," she said. "What do you think?"

Burning Spice ran a quick hand through his hair and gave her a nod. "More pleasant than before."

"Wonderful." She beamed at him. "I'm glad."

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of that bright, warm smile. It stole all of the light in the room. It outshined the sun itself.

If this was what it took get her to look at him like that, then Burning Spice would gladly let her fuss over his appearance every single day for the rest of his life.

"Now, then..." She clapped her hands together, her eyes now glinting with mischief. "How about we take care of your wardrobe next?"

"My what?!"

--------------------------------------

What GC said about cleanliness was something Ancient Egyptians actually believed. They were very, very fussy about hygiene and legitimately thought that cleanliness was godliness. They didn't have spas or bathhouses or the like, though (not before the Greeks and Romans stopped by), they usually just bathed in the Nile. They used something called natron (it's like a salt mixture you get from dry lake beds, tastes like baking soda) as soap and shampoo. There's your history lesson for the day. You're welcome. I have more if you're interested.

And... well. I'm sure it's common knowledge that depressed people can start really letting themselves go if it gets bad enough. I don't really get the impression that Burning Spice is happy, even with that Joker smile he's got on and how much he enjoys trashing everything... I think all the Beasts are plagued with a certain melancholy, really. They're handling it entirely incorrectly, but even so. (And I think the Ancients can and should be the ones to help them overcome that. They're just the right ones for the job, in my opinion. But that's probably just me trying to bait you all into asking me about my Reformed Beasts AU again lol)

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #burning spice cookie #golden cheese cookie #burningcheese #goldenspice #burning spice crk #golden cheese crk #merchant shorts

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ahhnini · 8 days ago

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temperance - frat!rafe x tarot!reader

warnings - rafe being a jealous guy, slow burning with rafe is slow burning, not proofread!

the star / the world / texts pt one

soft classical music played over the shop, you’d just finished a reading with a client and you’re making polite talk with him as you clean your space. rafe was in the back, making himself a cup of coffee.

“i’ve been really interested in these things but never got the chance to do any research, can you tell me more?” your client, derek, asks. you nod your head, showing him to the tarot aisle of your shop. all the meanwhile, rafe is leaning against the doorframe, keen eyes watching over you.

“here are the cards we have in stock! for first time users i’d recommend the classic rider tarot deck,” you pull one from off the shelf, “it was originally made in italy and has the most powerful symbolism. the guidebook that comes with this can be hard to read, but there’s a ton of free guidebooks online. we also have some physical copies of guidebooks if you wanna check ‘em out,” you smile, handing him the box. your hands brush against each other. feeling an electric shock run through your body, you flinch away. derek softly smiles at you, pushing a stray hair behind your ear, and you whisper a “thank you.” you then nod shortly, clearing your throat, “oh, you also need some incense to cleanse them before you begin bonding,” “bonding?”

he follows you to the corner filled with incense sticks, “yeah, so your cards can resonate with you. if you go right into readings they won’t resonate as much and you may get some overly negative readings if you don’t cleanse,” you hand him three sticks of incense, “you can use one, just giving you a couple extra!” you beam, his hand lingering over yours again. he softly chuckles, taking the sticks. “how do you ‘bond’ with your cards?” he asks, taking a step closer towards you.

“usually, after I cleanse them I put them under my pillow and sleep with it. then I start doing a reading on myself and keep doing said reading until everything starts to resonate,” you sigh, “it’s a long process, but it’s an efficient one.”

your lips form a small smile as he nods. you bring him to the checkout counter, ringing up his items, “thank you for your services again today, I really appreciate it. and thank you for telling me more about tarot,” your polite smile widens into a genuine one, “you’re very welcome, derek,” derek hands you a hundred dollar bill, and you open your register to give him his change before he interrupts you, “—you can keep the change,” your eyes widen and you stumble upon your words, “oh—thank you!” he lets out a soft hum, grabbing his bag. before he leaves your shop, he turns around, approaching you again, “I might forget the process of cleansing the cards and bonding or whatnot, so…in case I forget, do you mind if I call you?”

you lightly scoff, a soft giggle emitting from your lips, “smooth,” you click your tongue, handing him a business card, “here, that’s my personal number, but don’t tell everyone that,” he takes a glance at the card before exiting your store, the ringing of the bells overpowering the soft music for a moment.

“smooth?” rafe walks over to you, eyes dark. you cross your arms, facing him. “yeah? it was,” you shrug. he rolls his eyes, “you’re not actually gonna call him, right?” “why not? if he needs help with his cards i’m gonna give help,” you try to squeeze past him, but his broad frame doesn’t let you through. “rafe. relax,” “he was flirting!” his eyes widen and his arms flail in the air. “no shit he was, besides, i’m only gonna give him tarot advi—are you jealous?” rafe’s face turns bright pink, no longer being able to hold eye contact with you, “n-no,” “oh, rafe cameron is jealous,” you poke at his chest playfully.

“just don’t want you to be calling him while we’re sharing a room, I like my peace and quiet,” his voice is soft.

“uh-huh…” you reply, walking back to your workstation as you mumble to yourself, “definitely jealous.”

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @littlelamy @rafeeekam @xcinnamonmalfoyx

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intimacyequalsdeath · 1 month ago

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Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 3 : (Caramel Apple) Stu Macher

Here is day 3 of Fictober! As always I hope you all enjoy today's installment of Fictober. There's much more to come. Notes: Minors DNI, Canon typical violence / Whatever else if there is any.

Support me: KO-FI

"Goddamnit Stu, I told you that wasn't funny"

"Babe I said I was sorry. Me and Billy were just fuckin' around"

"You and Billy are always just fucking around"

Stu rolled his eyes, he had been over this with you many times before.

"Hey you knew what me and Billy did since the start, don't go throwing it back in my face now"

It was your turn to roll your eyes, sure you had known but that didn't mean you had to like it. With attention on the Ghostface ramping up Stu was seemingly spending nearly all his free time with Billy carefully planning out how carry out kill after kill without getting caught.

"I know that Stu, but the goddamn principal ? You and Billy could've gotten caught and because I know about you two I'm gonna go down too"

"You really think if me and Bill ever got caught that we'd throw you under the bus?"

"I know you wouldn't...Billy not so much"

Stu sighed, running a hand over the top of his head. You and Billy had an...interesting relationship to say the least. When you and Stu had first started dating, you and Billy were cordial sure but would never be best friends.

As the months progressed and Billy realized you weren't going anywhere he started to grow more semi trusting but still standoffish. Here recently something had changed, Billy was starting to almost grow hostile, as if he was expecting that any day now you'd turn him and Stu in to the police.

"Babe I told you Billy-"

"I know what you said Stu, You trust Billy but that only goes so far...you and I both know if Billy had to throw even you under the bus to save himself that he would."

"Oh c'mon, have a little more stock in Billy, I mean sure me and him have our moments but we're in this together. He wouldn't do that."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night Stu"

You remark before starting to turn and walk away. Stu quickly catches up to you and matches your pass as he walks beside you.

"Look" he sighs "I know you've never been a fan of the Ghostface thing, and I know these days especially Billy doesn't make you feel any better about it but I want you to trust me ok?"

"Stu, trusting you isn't the thing I have an issue with and you know it."

"I know I know, but I want you to trust me about Billy ok? I know what I'm doing and if he did try anything...you think I don't have contingencies set up for that?"

"Wow contingencies, that's a five dollar word for you Stu"

"That's rude as fuck."

Stu rolls his eyes but grins anyway, throwing a loose arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk. Stu steers you away from the parking lot where you would usually pile in with your friends and go home. He turns you in the direction of Billy and his car.

'Stu-"

"Shhhh, I said trust me remember?"

Billy Loomis was the last person you wanted to see right now, especially after the previous conversation with Stu. But you knew Stu wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Stu leads you from behind with his hands now on your shoulders up to Billy who's leaning against his car. The two of you stop right in front of Billy.

"You two, have some bonding to do"

Both you and Billy turn to Stu with confused expressions"

"Babe-"

"Stu c'mon man-"

Stu hushes the both of you before either of you can start to bitch about the predicament.

"No, you are my best friend and my partner. I want you two to get along and trust each other, that's why we're going to have a family Ghostface night!"

You freeze, eyes flicking between Stu and Billy.

"Stu....no"

"That's not the right answer baby"

"Stu I'm not helping you two kill someone"

"Why not?" Billy chimes in "Afraid that if we get caught you'll be an accessory?"

"N-no, I- I just-"

"Babe you want to be able to trust Billy and he wants to be able to trust you. This will help with that."

Billy looks at you rather smugly with a smile gracing his face.

"Yeah babe, give it a try and join the club."

You thought for a moment, you really, really thought. Stu did have a point, life would be so much easier if you and Billy could easily trust each other. Sure you were never gonna be best friends but mutual trust would help.

Plus if you were honest with yourself you probably could in some sense already go down as an accessory to Ghostface, unless you had trust in Billy that he wouldn't rat you out....Fuck it.

"Fine"

Billy and Stu look as you with raised eyebrows, almost as if they didn't expect you to agree to be apart of their grand plan.

"Wow, look at you" Billy remarks as Stu cackles and throws an arm around your shoulders once more.

"But...first, who are you guys even going after?" A question you'd live to regret.

Billy and Stu shared an almost sinister look between the two of them before both speaking at the same time. Saying only one name.

"Sidney Prescott"

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #halloween #fictober #fictober 2024 #scream #scream movie #stu macher x reader #stu macher #stu matcher x reader #billy loomis

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soupbabe · 1 year ago

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Hey! So recently I was thinking back to the cannibal! reader with stu, and I was wondering if you can do that with the Sinclair siblings (separate ofc) with an s/o that’s a cannibal

The Sinclair Brothers with a Cannibal! S/o

Tbh cannibal reader is one of my fav kinds of reader to write <3 Honestly, these aren't the most romantic headcanons around, they're silly at most 😅

Warning: mentions and talk of blood and guts I guess lmao, the title is enough warning

Bo Sinclair

- Okay yeah Bo isn't known for his moral compass but I know that you were able to freak him out

- Today was rough, he's been chasing and going after a victim that he was sure slipped through his fingertips So to make him feel better you made him some chilli, not quite telling him what was in it yet

- He'd air out his grievances with his failure and you reassure him that you caught them for him...just to tell him that you're eating them right now.

- His eyes go wide as he spits out his food, he's more mad that you didn't tell him what's in his food than the actual act

- After Bo's initial shock calms down, he'll pull you close and kiss your forehead, telling you that you did a good job hunting and am even better job at cooking <3

- though if we're being honest it still traumatized him just a lil bit. From now on, everytime you serve him something with meat, he's side eyeing it and poking it around to make sure it wasn't someone he thought Vincent nabbed first

Vincent Sinclair

- I do think that you and Vincent would argue time to time just because of how protective he can be around the bodies

- He can't afford a body part to go missing for his sculptures, his brothers can't count on their hands the amount of times Vincent has nagged them for damaging the victims so severely

- Ignore that he has canonically decapitated a guy with no issue shh

- So there's a new rule for the two of you: first come first serve. Whoever captures and kills first gets to keep it.

- Honestly it's like a fun little game between you two, something to bond over

- Though I'd imagine there are moments where Vincent is sweet on you and tries to harvest some meat for you, sew his victims back up, and use them like they're good as new <3

Lester Sinclair

- I think he surprises himself with how calm he is when he sees you eating out of the not-100%-roadkill pile when you first meet. He knows what you're eating isn't deer or squirrel

- Sure, it's not something he'd ever think he'd ever see, he's keeping a knife close as he gets closer and takes you in

- I can't explain it but it's not that Lester is accepting and no judgemental of your diet, it's more that he's learned over the years to just not question things and to roll with the punches

- He likes to keep his s/o satisfied, he wants to make sure you at least eat your food safely and healthily

- So he hatches a plan to lurk outside Ambrose, wait for those who get to escape the twins, only for them to get "accidentally" ran over.

- Lester is such a sweetheart and is willing to wait all night for escapes and maybe a hitchhiker if he's desperate. He's always making sure that you're gonna be fed and stocked up for the next week <3

#house of wax 2005 #house of wax x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader

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lilyrachelcassidy · 2 years ago

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The Cat

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Mattheo welcomes an unexpected visitor in his dormitory, which eventually leads to a confession from his side.

Warnings: yyyhhh, not really, no; some feisty cat tho

Word Count: 1.2k

xoxoxxoxoxxoxoxoxoxxoxo

Mattheo cranked the handle of the shower, releasing the hot jet of water on his body. Today was positively ghastly, and he wanted to wash the emotions and memories off of him. He planned on taking a few minutes of a good read of a Daily Prophet and then plunging under the blanket where he would be able to, hopefully, forget the horror of the day.

Life, however, had even more advancing events for him to deal with because when he finally shut the stream off, he heard a jangle coming from his bedroom, the room to which the bathroom was adjoined. He suddenly froze, stock-still.

For a moment he admonished himself for being such a weakling, therefore, he quickly recovered from his momentary trans. On autopilot, and because he wasn’t sure what to expect, he threw on some robes and exited the bathroom.

Yet before he could take one step forward, something big and furry flung to his feet. He let out a surprised howl but soon discerned that the enigmatic object actually turned out to be a fat, shabby cat with flamboyant ginger hair and a bizarre froufrou collar on its neck. Quickly recovering from the shocker and the howl, which he definitely won’t be chronicling over his family dinner, he bent over the pet and took it in his arms.

“Well, well... if you aren’t a treat for heart,” he said with a few droplets of water trickling on the cat’s fur. It hissed in dissatisfaction at which Mattheo chuckled. He scrutinized the froufrou collar yet again and noticed the printed, golden word on it which showcased ‘Henrietta’ in the cursive. “Your owner clearly must hate you, Henrietta...”

The cat hissed again, and Mattheo wasn’t sure if it was a hiss of disagreement or not, but he liked to arrogate that as long as the cat was in his arms, it agreed with his opinion.

How had the cat entered his bedroom, or why would it do it in the first place, he didn’t know. But the bond between them flourished as Mattheo stroked it a few times and was rewarded with a great, vibrating purr in response.

“Okay, let’s get you on the bed, buddy.” Stiffly, he put it on the bed with which the cat seemed to be extremely dissatisfied as it hissed again. “You didn’t possibly expect me to cradle you around all night, right? The privilege is only reserved for my cigarettes...”

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this situation next but the resolved it probably wouldn't help with him walking around butt naked. He almost reached the bathroom to change to his regular, nightly attire, but a knock came to the door.

“For Merlin’s Sake...”

As the door swung open, it revealed a girl, an absolutely dazzling one, who Mattheo had been pinning after for a few months now - Y/N. She still had the school robes on her which she enhanced with some sew-on, muggle badges, and she was wrenching both of her hands like a small child summoned to solve a task in from of the entire class. She smiled at him coyly, and Mattheo was suddenly very aware that nothing but a thin layer of cloth prevented him from fully stripping in front of her.

To be fair, he wouldn’t have minded that at all.

“Hey, sorry to... intrude. But I have been looking all over for my cat and-” She halted in the middle of the sentence as she noted Henrietta casually stretched on Mattheo’s bedsheets, staring at its owner as though it revealed a Royal Flush on the poker table. “There you are, you stupid creature! What are you doing here?”

She crouched down, evidently waiting for the cat to approach her but it made no move whatsoever nor expressed any desire of being relocated. When Y/N made the reproachful expression and hushed at it a couple of times, only then did it finally get a grip that there was no option of a sleepover.

As soon as the cat prowled over to her feet, Y/N picked it up and swiftly faced Mattheo in the standing position again. She smiled at him. “I’m sorry about that. I hope Henrietta didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

Mattheo leaned over at a jamb, arms folded together. “No, of course not.” He shook his head lightly, and they both stood there grinning at each other and the absurdity of the situation they were shoved into.

“So, I think I should get going...”

But before she was able to move, Mattheo spouted off: “Don't you think I should get some kind of reward for finding your cat?”

Y/N sniggered, looking at him with amusement in her eyes. “Did you really find her? Or was it just a stroke of luck that she sauntered into your dormitory?”

At that, Mattheo smirked. He loved that someone was able to match his level of teasing. And he loved the way the corners of her lips curved, exposing a little dimple in one of her cheeks. “Technicalities.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but decided to give in to his conditions. “Fine. What do you want?”

“Go on the date with me,” he said it. Matter-of-factly. It actually cost him a much greater deal than he made the impression of; his throat went dry, and his heart picked up on the rabbit speed. And yet he was still leaning on the jamb, a smirk adorning his countenance and daring to look Y/N straight in the eyes as if it was one of the most obvious answers to that question.

That she seemed to not expect because at first, she snorted, but then apprehended that Mattheo wasn’t going to join her in laughter, thus she started goggling with a jaw hanging in consternation. That had a strangely amusing effect on Mattheo who, despite his tense body, managed to look casual. “You? On a date? With me? Do you even know who I am?”

“You are Y/N, and presumably, you are the owner of the strangely-named cat...”

“Hey! Henrietta is a very beautiful name. Have you not read ‘Persuasion’?” When Mattheo shook his head, Y/N let out a little squeak of disbelief. The cat peered at her with annoyance. “It’s only one of the greatest books ever! It’s muggle but still, something to catch up on.”

Mattheo contemplated her face for a few seconds before the idea sprung up to his mind. “How about...” he started. “I take you to ‘Flourish and Blotts’ this weekend, and we can go over a few chapters together. Or we can go to the ‘Three Broomsticks’ and then you would tell me all about Henrietta?”

The robust blush spread over Y/N's cheeks. She set her face downcast, but a grin, even from that cant, was visible on her lips. “Only under one condition.”

“And what is that?” asked Mattheo with a brow raised.

“You won’t poke fun at the name Henrietta ever again.” She simpered at him and that, Mattheo thought, was the sight he could admire on a daily basis.

“You got yourself a deal there, Y/N.” He extended the hand on which Y/N shook, and they both beamed at one another.

Later that night, Mattheo thought that thanks to the bloody cat, his days turned out to be one of his greater achievements, after all.

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #Harry Potter #hp #mattheo riddle fanfic #slytherin #Benjamin Wadsworth x reader #Benjamin Wadsworth

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thegingerwrites · 7 months ago

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I'm calling this "the grass isn't always greener au" and I'll probably never write it but it was stuck in my head today:

The Clone Wars are over, Palpatine is dead and the galaxy is more at peace than it has been in a lifetime. Anakin is no longer a Jedi. He has been living with Padmé and their children for two years now and everything is fine. Everything is definitely, absolutely fine.

And yet Anakin can't help but feel like he made some kind of mistake in leaving the Order when Padmé told him she was pregnant. He can't regret her or their children. He can't regret the fact that he no longer has to deflect blaster bolts on a daily basis. He can't regret peace.

But he does miss Obi-Wan. The ragged threads of their bond are still present in his mind when he can bring himself to sense them. (And he does, often, like picking at a scab or the empty cavity of a missing tooth. He prods at the empty space, making sure never to go far enough as to make Obi-Wan aware of it. He hasn't seen Obi-Wan in months). He misses having a purpose, a bright shining goal, the feeling of fulfilling his destiny even if the pursuit of that destiny aged him in ways he is still coming to terms with.

He was never the Jedi he should have been but now he is no longer a Jedi at all. And maybe if he had held himself together for just a little longer, he could still be one today.

The Force gives him the chance to find out.

Anakin wakes up in the body of Darth Vader, two years after the fall of the Republic, broken and in pain, fully invested in the power of the dark side.

He flees the Executor as soon as he can. Taking stock of his mechanical limbs, full-body burns, and life support suit, Anakin has no idea where he is or what has happened to him. But this is him, some alternate version of him. When he takes off the helmet and stares into his reflection in transparisteel window of his escape pod, he sees himself. Despite the changes, the burns, the eyes, he recognizes himself.

He seeks out Obi-Wan through the tenuous, broken bond in both of their minds. This may not be his world and this might not be his master, but Anakin knows he could find Obi-Wan anywhere if he allows himself to reach out to that connection again.

Darth Vader appears on Obi-Wan's doorstep on Tatooine, begging for his help. It takes Obi-Wan time to understand what is happening but they sit and talk and everything that happened in the last days of the Republic is slowly revealed. Everything that Anakin did, everything that he became.

They talk for hours, Anakin reveling in Obi-Wan's companionship again, taken aback by how much his master loves him, even this version of him and all that he did, and Obi-Wan nearly brought to tears by the idea of having Anakin back again. What Obi-Wan wouldn't do to sit side by side with Anakin again, to have even the smallest speck of hope that Anakin might come back to him.

By the light of his hearthfire, Obi-Wan asks Anakin to take off his mask, so that he can see his face again. Anakin would do anything for his master but especially this older, sadder version who loves him so desperately and he obliges. Obi-Wan reaches a gentle hand out to stroke Anakin's pock-marked cheek. He presses a kiss to his pale and scarred forehead.

Then Anakin wakes up in bed with his wife, pulled completely from the alternate reality and back in his body again, his eyes wet with tears. Without hesitation, he reaches out to his bond with Obi-Wan and pulls.

Perhaps Anakin didn't make a mistake in choosing peace. But he certainly made one in leaving Obi-Wan behind. And if Obi-Wan's love could survive all of that, it can definitely handle a few years of strained silence and damaged trust.

Anakin races up the steps of the Jedi Temple in early morning sunlight and for the first time in two years, meets his old Master for tea.

#obikin fic #obikin au #obi wan x anakin #obi wan/anakin #aniobi #i almost titled this “the grass isn't always greener”#maybe i could write this if i convinced myself it didn't have to be 30k long #hmmm 🤔#i thought about putting in a read more but it's less than 700 words people can deal

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pursuitseternal · 10 months ago

Note

Hi first of all, I wanted to tell you how much I love your fanfictions I'm always happy to see something new (ascended astarion and astarion spawn stories are my favourites but the others are captivating too). I was wondering if you could write a story where the original Tav dies and is reborn a few hundred years later and Astarion finds her again. Maybe in a more modern setting where the prudery thing isn't quite so… strong

I apologise for my bad English it's not my native language I hope you can understand it anyway

“Mistrial:” a Modern Faerûn AU

Astarion x Tav |E| 2.5K modern au

Ao3 link

Summary: Hundreds of years without her, Astarion still sits on the bench, Justice Ancunìn hear case after case. Until one day, that young prosecutor gets under his skin, until she confronts him after their trial, until ancient memories stir and things awaken.

A/N: Thank you to @myfavouritelunatic and @brabblesblog for their enabling and encouragement.

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“Justice Ancunìn, I have to object,” the little firecracker of a prosecutor ground her high heel into the tile of the courtroom.

Astarion shook his head, tired of her tone already on day one. “You don’t have to, counselor,” he rubbed two fingers against his silver-haired temple, “but given that this is already your twenty-second one today, I can’t say I’m surprised.” She looked at him with sharp eyes and folded arms. The little shit. He did not care for her already.

If this had been in the good old days when Faerûn was at its prime and most debauched, he could have her flogged for her tone and sent to cool in the stocks. And that would have been before he had been turned into vampiric spawn, before he had become hero of Baldur’s Gate with the love of his life at his side. Helping him learn how to hide his immortality and vampirism from the public, learning how to still serve as Magistrate despite his… condition.

That was until time moved on, and his immortality won over the lingering bonds of love. He missed Tav, her brilliance and ferocity, her pointed ears and sweet blood, her passion in life and in the bed.

Like the blink of an eye, he moved on. City to city, career to career as hundreds of years continued their slow grind of time. Until now, now, he stared down from his bench in BGC, new finagled magic in this modern age like cars and electricity and internet. But law was law, and a judge was a judge

It was as if he never left, aside from the new spitfire attorney, just arrived from New Waterdeep, with a ferocity he would have once admired.

He just now found it tiresome. Irritating. He realized after a moment, she had the decency to wait on his final word on her request for objection. He shifted in his seat, narrowing his eyes at her. “Overruled, Counselor Ylfe.” He banged his gavel twice. “In fact, court adjourned until tomorrow,” he stood grumbling to himself. “At least I’ll be spared a twenty-third objection in so many hours…”

His pointed ears picked up on a high pitched scoff. “We shall see,” that lawyer snipped to herself. But that tone, that defiance and jabbing quality… something piqued his interest.

Stirred his ancient memory.

He finally groaned as he rested in his chambers, only moments after shutting the doors and sliding off those scratchy robes. Gods, he missed silks and wigs and velvets. Not this cheap crap everyone wore. He went to his cabinet, taking out a discrete green bottle and pouring himself a mug of its swirling ruby contents. He popped it in his microwave, one improvement on the campfire he would not begrudge using.

Not when it made his stash of blood warm for once.

But even as it hummed, his mind kept rolling over his day. Especially that stubborn, annoying, irritating prosecutor with her defiant eyes and jutting out chin and crossed arms and swaying, perfect hips, and……

“Justice Ancunìn, I figured you would finally have a moment for us to address how to best proceed civilly in your own chambers,” his head shot up, his gaze narrowed as he watched her stride on into his offices.

Her.

“What in the hells are you thinking, Counselor Ylfe?” he spat, fighting hard from baring his fangs at her. A habit eroded from nearly a millennia of practice almost overturned just at the sight of her. “You know any discourse outside of the courtroom can result in a mistrial?”

“This isn’t about the trial, this is about your abject disdain for me, personally, it would seem.” She did it again, crossing her arms and swaying her hips in that tight little black pantsuit of her hers.

Astarion let his eye wander. There was something about her… not many females cut so fine a figure in trousers, or slacks or whatever the fuck they were now.

Not since… her. The other her in his life. His true love. That was the last time he even gave a woman a second glance.

Her hair hung over her shoulder, but now, up close, he could see two pointed ears peeking through her crown of long and flowing hair. Elf. High elf.

He locked eyes with her, that piercing shade… his mind raced and wandered… flying through ancient history for some, the warmest of memories for him. Emerald Grove, Shadow Cursed Lands, the real Baldur’s Gate…

“Didn’t you hear me, Your Honor?” she snapped at him.

Astarion shook his mess of silver locks, smiling in a way that no longer hid his fangs. “I’m afraid I was… lost in the sea of my long and winding memories… darling….”

That made her freeze solid. Her smooth face drew into an inscrutable expression, her cherry red lips parted… “What did you call me…?”

Only then did he realize the slip of his own tongue, how that pet name he vowed never to use flowed right off of it. “D-darling.” He repeated, as shocked as she was at the impropriety. “I’m sorry, Ms. Ylfe.”

“Don’t be,” she instantly replied with a shake of her head. Then she smiled, even as her brows furrowed. She looked at him, at his pale face and silver hair and… dark brown eyes…. “Have you always worn contacts, Mr. Ancunìn?”

“How…” but before he could interrogate that true suspicion, his microwave dinged.

“You better get your drink, Your Honor…” That lilt in her voice was new, he noted.

“I’ll wait,” he shrugged. “I can always reheat it later. First I’ll have to apologize for my… behavior today.”

“I should hope so,” she grinned, walking around and sitting on the edge of his desk. “Treating a lady with such disdain… only to about face and call her darling the next moment… seems something only a true, black-hearted rogue would do…”

“What?” he went rigid. Bending forward, that old instinct to fight or fly racing through his nerves after centuries.

“I’ve never been a fan of contacts,” she smiled so easily as she leaned back against the top of his desk, fingers splayed on his files and papers. “Better if you just showed the world your natural eyes, Mr. Ancunìn….”

His nostrils flared, his breath racing and head swimming. But this time there was no fucking tadpole, he knew that.

“What’s your name…” he hissed, narrowed eyes leveling at her.

“I can tell you, unless you’re bent on letting your stash of blood from getting cold…. Astarion.”

His hand flew to her neck, bringing her up into his face, fangs bared, hackles raised, every long suppressed vampiric sense firing on all cylinders now as he smelled her. “Name,” he commanded.

“Taveria Ylfe,” she swallowed under his hold. “But those close to me have always called me Tav….”

“Tav,” her name was a gasp in his throat.

“And I know you,” she said, breathy and quick. “I didn’t know how… but there was something about you that made me… unsettled.”

“Twenty-two objections later and you call yourself… unsettled?” he smirked, lightening his hold, but stroking his fingers on her skin.

Her skin.

“Well, darling,” she purred, "lifetimes of perfect memory for our kind, and I should have recognized my lover with the crimson eyes and pointed fangs.”

Astarion shook his head, swallowing the rising ball of emotion that caught in his throat. “I’d cry, but it’ll make my contacts hurt,” he gave a wet laugh. His thumb traced on the side of her neck, two circle marks in her flesh, like moles or scars…

“You found them, the brands I’ve have on my flesh ever since you, Astarion,” she added, eyes batting shut under his touch. “I’ve looked for you in every lifetime, my true love with roguish swagger, red eyes, pointed fangs, and massive…”

She paused, pursing her lips.

“Ego?” he offered as an answer, but she shook her head.

“Cock,” she grinned as she bit her lip.

“I was hoping you’d say that… darling…” He hissed as her hand grasped at the gusset between his legs. “Looking for your evidence?” he growled, a roll of his hips into the pressure of her touch. So ancient and familiar. “You’ll get it, darling, if you want it…”

“I do, Astarion,” she sighed, fingers stroking back and forth on the cotton of his pants, feeling that rising erection instantly straining back.

A monsterous growl in his throat, a burning hunger in his belly, he grasped at the back of her neck, pulling her against his lips.

The age-old dance, the same taste. Closing his eyes, his body transported a millennia ago… as if he could smell blood and woodsmoke and magic in the air mixed with her scent. Had he suppressed so much of his senses he couldn’t recognize her scent? Had he ignored the same beat of her heart in her chest, same musical rush of blood in her veins?

He shook his head to let all that go, realizing her hands already tore through her own blazer and button down, clothing now cast to the floor. Already, she had shimmied off the desk, pressing harder into his kiss. He waited for no further invitation, hands instantly sliding her slacks from her perfect curves, his own clothing suddenly feeling too tight and too abrasive.

Astarion only wanted her skin on him now. After so long. He couldn’t move fast enough, his reflexes had dulled from neglect, his dexterity a fraction of what it once was with her. But it, too, slowly crept back, his hands making quick work of his own clothes.

Suddenly, those fingers remembered the smoothness of her skin, rekindled their dexterity. His hand clawed into her hair, the other stroked down her belly, backing her perfect body to perch on the edge of his desk. The gasp he drew from her lips as he sank two fingers into her folds woke something feral in him, something ancient. Vampiric.

“Tav,” he hissed, nuzzing against the music of her artery, rubbing along the stream of her blood in her neck. “May I, please…”

“Mmm, I want to see your real eyes before you take anything of mine, Astarion,” she purred, arching against him. One hand splayed on the desk behind her, she smirked and watched. Never had anyone removed contacts so quickly, so dexterously.

As he blinked, her heart poured open. That scarlet glare, that tilted head, those mussy silver curls. “I can’t believe it’s you…” she sighed.

His eyes went wide, shining in his unshed tears and well of emotion. “I’m so tired of words, Tav,” he replied, voice cracking with that exhaustion and unbridled desire now. “Just give me all of you, to lose myself in, to lose these long and draining years in, years without you.”

Not another word as said, nothing but the groans of their joining once more, the shudder of their bodies as they fucked, the creaking of the wood beneath her as he slammed his hips against it. Cock buried deep in her cunt, fangs digging into her neck.

Both parts of her were hot and leaking. Blood spilled from his mouth once more—warm and fresh and sweetened with her taste. Arousal leaked into the wood beneath them, her musk and sweat the only perfume he longed to smell.

He swirled his tongue over his bite marks, fresh bleeding wounds that swallowed those scars she was born with. A lasting brand on her skin as she had forever been on his heart, his soul.

He couldn’t bring her close enough to him, fingers clawed into her ass to keep her from sliding away with his frantic thrusts. And she had already wrapped herself around his waist, already scratched up the places of his back that weren’t riddled with scars still. Clutching him tightly to never lose him again.

Their lips were sealed together, locked as they sucked and moved and danced in their ancient kiss, the taste of her blood sending them both reeling into oblivion. She keened as her walls spasmed around his cock, that familiar ripple and beat of her climax pressing against his every wild and erratic thrust.

His forehead resting against her shoulder, the scent of her blood there was the last little push he needed, losing himself in the trembling warmth and comfort and pull of her body. His cock pulsed hard inside her, thrumming against her muscles as he came harder than anything for a thousand years. Forcing his head back up, he locked eyes with her, face twisting and arms shaking as he came. Lips pulled back to show those glistening and reddened fangs.

Her hand braced hard at the back of his neck, keeping her with him as his hips thrust, slowing as he emptied into her. At last he stilled, a foolish, young smile on his gaping lips, lips he licked clean.

He would tell her sometime, how she had made his undead heart remember how to beat and love again twice now. How she brought him back to life over and over again. But with that haze in her eyes, the way she clenched still around his cock, he knew this wouldn’t be the end of their reunion.

Thank the gods.

Lips curling as she met her mouth in a kiss, she drew him in again for more. “I have a hotel…” she whispered.

“And I have a penthouse, darling,” came his instant reply between her ravenous caresses.

“Hmm,” she laughed deep in her throat, their kiss still working slowly, unable to break apart once more. “As long as you keep it cleaner than your tent once was, I accept. Someplace for us until the morning when we return to court…”

His fingers, coated in the scent of her arousal, stayed her mouth. “Tch, surely even a young thing like you knows this will end in mistrial now,” he smirked. “Not even I can think of a clause that allows for lost soul mates to continue in court after such…” he glanced at the mess between their legs, “…debauchery.”

“Oh well,” she feigned disappointment, sliding off to retrieve her clothes. “Worth it…”

Suddenly his arms gripped her, pulling her by the swell of her ass, flush against his naked body one more time. “It’ll be days before either of us must return to court… long, exhausting, pleasure-filled days, darling.”

Tav dove up for his kiss, standing in her tiptoes to meet that smirk that haunted her for centuries. “You better hurry me away to your place, Astarion, or someone will find us here making up for lost time.”

Reluctantly and with a deafening sigh, he relented, busying himself to dress again.

“Oh,” she commented, that taunting tone in her voice, “and don’t think I missed how you never answered it your place was still a mess of chaos again.”

He turned, shaking his head as he refastened his belt. “Well, even if you are disappointed in that regard, I can assure you…” he gave her that look, those half-lidded eyes, that sharpened fanged smirk, “you won’t be left wanting in other regards.”

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