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kiwi-on-ice · 4 months ago

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Halloween couples costumes with Overwatch men + women with fem!reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Not fully smut but definitely nsfw elements in some

Notes: Happy Halloween!! <3 and thank you all so much for your support throughout kinktober, it’s been stressful but so fun! Hope you all have a spooky day, love from kiwi xx

Women:

Ashe:

Inspired by @ovwechoes she’d definitely love to go as Poison Ivy, with you as her Harley Quinn, buying you both the best quality costumes. Makes the perfect distraction, people are too busy staring at you both unashamedly to notice her gang pick-pocketing them and robbing a few shops before you disappear into crowd of costumes.

She buys you Harley's original jester outfit (the tight leather has her blushing just a little, as her hand won’t be able to help wandering over your curves). She wears a green corset, with tights and gloves that feel so lovely to the touch, complete with fake leaves that go around her. Every time your eyes go to her cleavage, she tilts your chin up with a teasing smirk, telling you ‘my eyes are up here, sugar.’

Junker Queen:

Loves Halloween, she’d definitely want to dress SCARY. Would want to see the slight fear on people’s faces, so she goes as a vampire. But she whites out her face, putting red contacts in her eyes, and covers herself in fake blood. She looks horrifyingly sexy, in a tight black outfit fitted with a cloak, and even fake fangs.

When she shows you your costume…or lack thereof you’re confused. But then with glee she tells you that you’re clearly the vampire’s plaything, the tasty morsel she drags around. That’s why you’re in a short white nightdress, with lacy stockings and garters. She paints red marks on your neck and wrists like you’ve been bitten (and even offers to leave some real marks, for the sake of realism of course)

Kiriko:

Another one who loves Halloween, and you both scroll through Pinterest for hours collecting ideas before you decide on what to wear to the Halloween party you’d been invited to.

You go as Daphne and Velma, and you both do a coin toss to decide who gets who. She gets Daphne, dressing in a tight purple dress with white go-go boots, whereas you get an orange jumper and red skirt, with some black rimmed glasses to complete it.

Kiriko insists on pulling up your long socks for you, kissing up your leg to tease you. You get her back though, running your hands down her dress under the guise of smoothing it down, so you can feel her up. On second thoughts…maybe you both are gonna be late for the party.

Mercy:

Surprisingly can be a little self conscious about dressing up, despite how much she actually loves it. So having you also be enthusiastic helps her a lot. You show her lots of pictures, but she seems the most curious about Kim Possible and Shego. You assume she wants to be Kim, but you couldn’t be more wrong.

So on the night, your jaw drops to the floor when you see her in the skintight black and green body suit, blonde hair tucked away underneath a curled black wig. She looks stunning, as she tells you she wanted to dress as the opposite of how she normally presents, an angel into a demon so to speak.

But when she holds your waist where your black crop top ends, your knees almost buckle out how gorgeous she is. And it makes your eyes wander to attempt to find how exactly she zipped it up…

Moira:

She’d laugh at you teasingly for how much you want to match with her, but she allows you to pick her costume. For once, you can dress her up like your own doll, and dress her you do.

You pick Rapunzel and Flynn rider, with you wearing a shorter version of her purple dress, with a dainty crown, and her in as close to the film’s costume as you can. You practically drool as you see her (and you’ll probably have to show her the film, since she’s clueless as to who she’s meant to be)

Although afterwards, she’ll make teasing comments about ‘stealing’ your heart away before grabbing your crown and holding it above your head, delighting when you attempt to jump and grab it.

Sombra:

Oh man she loves Halloween; and you both go all out every year. This year, she gets the idea to do beetlejuice and Lydia. She creates a ‘sexy’ beetlejuice outfit, with the black and white striped jacket and top, with a short skirt and sheer tights. She does her makeup gorgeously, with a black smokey eye and matching lipstick, painting green patches on her face just like the film. You have to forcibly stop yourself from ogling her, before she shows you your costume.

It’s Lydia’s red wedding dress, but cut shorter which makes you roll your eyes playfully. She insists on doing your makeup for you, giving her an excuse to get close to your face so she can paint the red lipstick precisely.

Tracer:

When you both are invited to the Overwatch halloween party, she knows that she wants to do a matching costume with you. She's a pretty crafty person, so she makes it from scratch for you both.

You're Cosmo and Wanda, with Lena having made little headbands that have a crown on top, as well as a star magic wand. You wear a wig, but Lena surprised you by actually dyeing her hair, making you giggle when she emerges from the bathroom with a goofy grin. All throughout the party, you both pretend to grant other people their wishes, having a blast.

Widowmaker:

While she loves Halloween before she was experimented on, now she looks at it slightly different. Despite her usual outfits, she feels less desirable than she did before, her blue skin something she can’t seem to get past.

But she wants to move past it, for you at least, so she agrees to dress up as whatever you’d like. You dress her as marceline, with you as princess bubblegum. She laughs at the slightly juvenile outfit choices, but she can’t deny you look just lovely in your pink dress, and she can’t help but fiddle with the crown on your head. You tell her breathlessly that she looks beautiful, and she gives you a teasing spin. That night you both are practically joined at the hip, and hey if her hand slips down a few times, who’s gonna stop her?

Zarya:

She’s a little shy about dressing up. When you approach the subject about you both having a couple theme, she’s hesitant. After all, there’s not a lot of buff women in media in general, so she’s afraid of looking a little silly wearing a costume for a character that doesn’t look like her. Despite all your reassurances, you know it’s something you won’t be able to shift her on, so you get a better idea.

Booting your game console up, you make her play the last of us with you, and as soon as she sees Abby, you know your plan worked. So you both rock up to the overwatch party and Abby and Ellie, grinning as the fake blood you applied to her face really makes her eyes pop.

Men:

Baptiste:

It was while you both were doing a movie marathon that you mention the upcoming overwatch Halloween party. You both happened to be watching blade, and after remarking how hot you think he’d look in leather, the idea is sealed.

You knew you were right when you finally saw his costume, the black leather making him look alluring and dangerous. You were dressed as Abigail from the sequel, a crop top squeezing your chest and a fake bow and arrow strapped to your back. As you make your feelings known, he pulls you to his chest and whispers the filthiest things you’ve ever heard before teasingly winking at you, explaining that the taxi is waiting outside. It’s gonna be a long party…

Cole Cassidy:

Jokingly suggests you going as the cowgirl to his cowboy, but you pout and tell him you want to go as an actual costume, which includes him dressing up. He has a think, and having just watched death note with Genji, suggests Light and Misa. You beam and start to prepare the outfit on your phone, and he sighs in relief that you didn’t seem to pick up on the fact he suggested it so he can see how you look in the ensemble.

And god is it worth the wait, when you come out wearing that black corset, stockings barely reaching your plush thighs as you give him a spin that nearly has you flashing him with how short the skirt is. Although you’re just as affected, seeing him in a nicely pressed white suit and tie, strong hands clutching a fake copy of the death note. He insists on making you sit in his lap, running his hand up the corset to feel the material, before you feel just how much he likes how you look.

Doomfist:

Hadn’t even thought about Halloween, too busy to have spared it a passing glance. So in the days leading up to the holiday, you both realise that you need to sort out a costume. You’re a little stumped, but he has an idea.

Men in black was always one of his guilty pleasure films, and dressing in a suit and sunglasses was certainly easy. Although seeing you in a tight suit he’d had custom made for your measurements was certainly making his thoughts stray as you arrive. The whole night, he keeps making excuses for you to dance with him, drink with him, be with him.

Genji:

Secretly a massive nerd, has several costumes he wants to try. But he finally settles on spider-man, thinking it’ll be more identifiable than the other obscure costumes he has in mind.

He shows you his idea for you, and is delighted when you agree, and dress up as spider-gwen, tight white outfit exentuating your body and making his heart rate increase. All throughout the overwatch party, he’ll teasingly pull down the hood of your costume to get your attention. But with each playful glare you give him back, he has to force himself to not get too flustered, thinking about you giving him that glare while climbing into his lap…

Hanzo:

He initially scoffs at the concept of dressing up, seeing it as a childish activity. But he can’t seek to deny his beloved of anything, not when you look up at him with puppy eyes and beg so prettily for him to share this experience with you.

That’s how he finds himself looking at the mirror, observing him dressed as the phantom of the opera. He tries not to be a prideful man in terms of vanity, opting to focus his pride on his skills, not his looks. But he can’t deny he looks good tonight, the mask covering half his face making him look like a mysterious danger, but not one someone would shy away from. And when he sees you as Christine, your white dress glistening in the low light, he takes the opportunity to hold your hand in his gloved one and plant a kiss upon the back of it seductively. He may not be a man who emphasises his seductive qualities, but he doesn’t mind playing the part for tonight at least.

Junkrat:

Loves dressing up! Or to be more specific, loves you dressing up. Always gets off on seeing you in some sort of cosplay or costume, but you also want to see him dressed up for a change, so it's your idea to come to a compromise that'll effect you both.

After doing his makeup, and forcing him into the outfit you bought him (he thinks it's scratchy, but he'll bare it for you), you turn him to the mirror to see you've dressed him as Captain Jack Sparrow. He laughs manically when he sees himself, doing a crude voice impression to make you giggle too. You excuse yourself to the other room to put your costume on, and when you come back in dressed as Elizabeth Swan, specifically in her pirate costume, he practically drools like a puppy.

Lifeweaver:

Is delighted that you want to do a matching couple costume with him, and when you tell him your idea, he’s overjoyed.

You choose Morticia and Gomez Addams, explaining that how Gomez treats Morticia is how he treats you, so it fits! And when he gets the costume on, dear god. You love him in it, the dark colours a contrast to the usual colour palette he has.

And wow, when you come out in the tight fitting black dress, he nearly collapses. He immediately does a reference to the movie, grabbing your hand and kissing up your arm to your neck, finally to your ruby lips. You both go where you’ve been invited, but he whispers promises in your ear that tonight, he’ll ravage you in the way a gorgeous woman like you deserves.

Lucio:

Loves Halloween!! Loves the spookiness!! If anything, he’s the one to suggest a couple costume. Wants something with makeup and sfx and gore and guts and everything.

You both go as zombies, and you go all out on the disgusting makeup. When you walk the streets on the way to your party, people actually cross the street to avoid you both, something you giggle at as soon as they’re out of earshot. But to tease him, you decided to have your zombie wear tight denim shorts, so the whole time you both are partying and having fun, he has to train his eyes to look at the fake blood spattered over your cheeks as opposed to how delicious your ass looks.

Mauga :

Any excuse for a good time, he’s down, so he lets you control his costume. But he says he wants something comfortable, doesn’t want anything that’ll hinder him. So you give him a plaid shirt and jeans, telling him the mask will be the main focus. He’s a little confused at the wolf mask you give him, but you tell him to sit tight and wait until you return.

And when you do…it’s almost like he gets into character with the way he growls at the sight. You’re wearing a red riding hood outfit, corset perfectly exemplifying your figure as the frilled white shirt shows off just enough cleavage to leave him wanting more. With his big hands, he gently takes the red hood and moves it from your head, before lifting you into his arms for a kiss. All throughout the party, his eyes are firmly on you, making sure nobody gets any ideas to play with his girl. And afterwards well…he shows you just how beastly he can be.

Reaper:

Doesn’t care for dressing up, so you attempt to bribe him by saying he can just wear his normal mercenary outfit but change the mask.

And when you pull out the scream mask, he isn’t a fool. He knows what you’re doing as he slips it on, and your cheeks immediately flush at the sight. He leans into it, walking over to you before crowding you against the door, placing his hand by the side of your head and tilting his own as he asks in his raspy voice ‘do you like scary movies?’

After that…well, you both are very much late to the talon Halloween gathering, you hadn’t even gotten your costume on yet. You quickly had dressed up, but all the while his hands were around your waist, trying to convince you to ditch the party and instead have a round two with him <3

Reinhardt:

Another one who’s delighted that you want to do a couples costume, thinks it’s so cute of you to ask. But he also takes it as a competition. You both have to be the best dressed!

You both spend ages discussing ideas before you settle on one that he likes. In all honesty, you’re surprised he could actually find a Batman costume that actually fit his huge frame. But still, he looks amazing, the dark costume emphasising his muscles.

But my god when he sees you as catwoman, curves squeezed into tight leather, his knees nearly give way. Huge hands immediately wrap around your waist, brain racing a mile a minute as he attempts to compliment you in a way that doesn’t sound crude. Please tell him you don’t mind…but he fears your costume will end up ripped if you enable him too much.

Bonus venture time:

Venture:

Obviously they're excited when you tell them you want to do a couple costume...until you pull out your phone. Then they're rolling their eyes playfully and passionately explaining 'actually babe, Indiana Jones is a very poor representation of an archaeologist! I mean he doesn't even do desk based assessments before partaking in an excavation-'

But you're convincing, so that's how on Halloween night you're feeling up their muscles over the tight brown leather jacket, before playfully flicking the hat atop their head. You're dressed as Lara Croft, the tank top pushing your tits enough that their eyes are practically glued to your chest.

Although they need to get you both to the party, so they playfully get their fake whip and wrap it around your waist, dragging you out the door as you erupt in a fit of giggles.

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whereserpentswalk · 5 months ago

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Reblog to go on a date with your monster. Like to give them a little gift.

Look under the cut to see what meeting your joyfriend is like.

1 you walk into a messy apartment, it looks like this is their first place where they live alone, away from other angels. They're sitting on a Lome mattress, cuddling a stuffed animal and watching TV. Despite everything they're still beautiful, their body youthful, and sexless, and athletic, their four white wings forever stained with blood. They look up at you with rose gold eyes, afraid, apologizing for if they scared you. But to their surprise you don't shy away from them, and somehow they feel safe and pure when you sit down to talk to them.

2 you see them in the shadows, alone in the dark of an empty park, changing shape, first a muscular humanoid in armor, then a wolf dancing through the night, then a combination of both, then finally a modern human in a ragged trenchcoat. Despite all their forms, their eyes are always the same. They come up to you and bow with a smile on their face. You slowly aproch them, for whatever reason their voice seems so familiar. You greet them with your hand as you would an animal, even as they're in human form, as you slowly pet their scars for the first time.

3 within the golden halls of an ornate train station you see them for the first time, through the crowd with inhumanly green eyes. They notice you despite everyone else. And you notice everything off about them, the wrong numbers of teeth, their hands occasionally having more or less then five fingers before returning back to normal. It's wordless but it doesn't need words for you to tell them that they don't need to pretend to be human around you. And for a momment you see them, naked, with branches for antlers, and the wings of a monarch butterfly, a serpent's head where a human’s genitals would be, and teeth made out of broken glass, and then only a rose exists where they once stood, but you know you'll see them again.

4 you see them for the first time in an empty parking lot, a massive creature with black eyes and countless legs, glowing yet dark, as they come twords you they take notes in an unknowable language. They inspect you as the dark matter pitter patters across your face. You expect them to hurt you as they reach out their claw but they only gently pet your head. You can tell that they're suprised, you're more receptive then most humans are. They give you a small peice of food to let you eat right from their claw, and it tastes batter then anything on earth.

5 you meet them in a café on a quiet side street. They don't like being seen by too many people. Their body is beautiful, but so inhuman, tall and slender, with silvery armor covering them from the neak down, their face pale and their eyes long since ripped out and replaced with red mechanical replacements. They're a bit afraid you won't be ok with them when you first meet them, but you start talking, and though they're shy at first they like the sound of your voice. They let you pet their head and they cuddle up to you, and their body is warm like a churning machine as you hug them for the first time, and they feel comforted in your arms.

6 you see them in a dark subway station. They clearly once were human, centuries ago, their body forever young, but pale and skinny, their eyes turned white and their mouth jawless and fanged like a lampry's. Their body is entirely sexless, barely shielded from the cold by a ragged suit. Most people avoid them, but you ask if they're ok and they just look up at you, when you ask if they're hungry they nod. You agree to give them some blood, and it feels like they're giving you little kisses as you offer them your wrist. When they're full you hug their cold body, and for a momment they're made warm.

7 an undead servent slowly brings them over to you in a wheelchair. Though their mansion is beautiful it's trapped in time, and dark even in the daytime. You can see the computer they're trapped in, it must be decades old by now. They look at you with an avatar meant to look like a drawing of themself, or at least how they'd want to look. Something about them makes you want to touch them, but you know you never can. You put your hand to the screen, and you can feel the magic flow through you, and for a momment that's enough.

8 you see them sitting there alone in a bar. A slender androgynous humanoid, they're wearing a black suit but upon closer examination it's part of their body, never to be taken off. You sit next to them, and they smile at you, you talk for a few moments and it's like they know more about the universe then you could ever imagine. They pet your head, and it feels like it'll kill you, but it only makes you feel more alive. They hand you a business card with their number on it, it says they're a servent of hades, they tell you you can contact them again if you like, they'll be around. When you look again they're entirely gone once more.

9 walking through an abandoned mall you see them, a life sized puppet, with stars and moons on its outfit, and a painted mask for a face. Coming closer to them you can see there's red liquid on them, and strange otherworldly bugs and mushrooms on their body. When you try to touch them they float in the air, and move as if they're alive, for a momment you think they'll hurt you but they run away. When you find them again, tracking them down to a dark arcade, you see they're crying. They expect you to hurt them but you reach out to help them instead, nobody's ever tried to help them like that before...

10 you see them ontop of a skyscraper's roof. They youthful human wearing a leather jacket smiling as a massive reptile, with bat like wings, and massive steel fangs, and a tail like a scorpion's flies down to them. You wonder if they'll try to calm it but instead they move together like one being, their eyes the same yellow color. The creature comes twords you, fire in its mouth, and poison in its teeth. You realize the two beings are one in the same, as the wyvern bows its head, ready for you to ride it, with its human body at your side.

11 for a momment they chase you through the night, the hooded masked figure running twords you, blade in hand. But as you cross the street they can't follow, it's as if they've hit a wall. The gods themselves have bound them. While you're in safety you look at them, there's a sadness behind that mask. You wonder, if they can't hurt you here, would there be any reason to hate them, would they choose to spare you if they knew your face, your voice...

12 all you can see is blackness, yet there is no darkness, only this slick metallic liquid around you. The lake bubbles up creating a false body with its fluid, first male, then female, then both, then neither. It beckons you in, and you know it would not let you drown. When you step inside all you can feel, all you can see, is the fluid around you, and you feel as if you're being held.

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pensbridgerton · 8 months ago

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On the sixth of April, in the year 1812—precisely two days before her sixteenth birthday—Penelope Featherington fell in love.

It was, in a word, thrilling. The world shook. Her heart leaped. The moment was breathtaking. And, she was able to tell herself with some satisfaction, the man in question—one Colin Bridgerton—felt precisely the same way. Oh, not the love part. He certainly didn’t fall in love with her in 1812 (and not in 1813, 1814, 1815, or—oh, blast, not in all the years 1816–1822, either, and certainly not in 1823, when he was out of the country the whole time, anyway). But his earth shook, his heart leaped, and Penelope knew without a shadow of a doubt that his breath was taken away as well.

For a good ten seconds.

Falling off a horse tended to do that to a man.

It happened thus:

She’d been out for a walk in Hyde Park with her mother and two older sisters when she felt a thunderous rumbling under her feet (see above: the bit about the earth shaking). Her mother wasn’t paying much attention to her (her mother rarely did), so Penelope slipped away for a moment to see what was about. The rest of the Featheringtons were in rapt conversation with Viscountess Bridgerton and her daughter Daphne, who had just begun her second season in London, so they were pretending to ignore the rumbling. The Bridgertons were an important family indeed, and conversations with them were not to be ignored.

As Penelope skirted around the edge of a particularly fat-trunked tree, she saw two riders coming her way, galloping along hell-for-leather or whatever expression people liked to use for fools on horseback who care not for their safety and well-being. Penelope felt her heart quicken (it would have been difficult to maintain a sedate pulse as a witness to such excitement, and besides, this allowed her to say that her heart leaped when she fell in love).

Then, in one of those inexplicable quirks of fate, the wind picked up quite suddenly and lifted her bonnet (which, much to her mother’s chagrin, she had not tied properly since the ribbon chafed under her chin) straight into the air and, splat! right onto the face of one of the riders.

Penelope gasped (taking her breath away!), and then the man fell off his horse, landing most inelegantly in a nearby mud puddle. She rushed forward, quite without thinking, squealing something that was meant to inquire after his welfare, but that she suspected came out as nothing more than a strangled shriek. He would, of course, be furious with her, since she’d effectively knocked him off his horse and covered him with mud—two things guaranteed to put any gentleman in the foulest of moods. But when he finally rose to his feet, brushing off whatever mud could be dislodged from his clothing, he didn’t lash out at her. He didn’t give her a stinging set-down, he didn’t yell, he didn’t even glare.

He laughed.

Penelope hadn’t much experience with the laughter of men, and what little she had known had not been kind. But this man’s eyes—a rather intense shade of green—were filled with mirth as he wiped a rather embarrassingly placed spot of mud off his cheek and said, “Well, that wasn’t very well done of me, was it?”

And in that moment, Penelope fell in love.

When she found her voice (which, she was pained to note, was a good three seconds after a person of any intelligence would have replied), she said, “Oh, no, it is I who should apologize! My bonnet came right off my head, and . . .”

She stopped talking when she realized he hadn’t actually apologized, so

there was little point in contradicting him.

“It was no trouble,” he said, giving her a somewhat amused smile. “I— Oh, good day, Daphne! Didn’t know you were in the park.”

Penelope whirled around to find herself facing Daphne Bridgerton, standing next to her mother, who promptly hissed, “What have you done, Penelope Featherington?” and Penelope couldn’t even answer with her

stock, Nothing, because in truth, the accident was completely her fault, and she’d just made a fool of herself in front of what was obviously—judging from the expression on her mother’s face—a very eligible bachelor indeed.

Not that her mother would have thought that she had a chance with him. But Mrs. Featherington held high matrimonial hopes for her older girls. Besides, Penelope wasn’t even “out” in society yet.

But if Mrs. Featherington intended to scold her any further, she was unable to do so, because that would have required that she remove her attention from the all-important Bridgertons, whose ranks, Penelope was quickly figuring out, included the man presently covered in mud.

“I hope your son isn’t injured,” Mrs. Featherington said to Lady Bridgerton.

“Right as rain,” Colin interjected, making an expert sidestep before Lady Bridgerton could maul him with motherly concern.

Introductions were made, but the rest of the conversation was unimportant, mostly because Colin quickly and accurately sized up Mrs. Featherington as a matchmaking mama. Penelope was not at all surprised when he beat a hasty retreat.

But the damage had already been done. Penelope had discovered a reason to dream.

Later that night, as she replayed the encounter for about the thousandth time in her mind, it occurred to her that it would have been nice if she could have said that she’d fallen in love with him as he kissed her hand before a dance, his green eyes twinkling devilishly while his fingers held hers just a little more tightly than was proper. Or maybe it could have happened as he rode boldly across a windswept moor, the (aforementioned) wind no deterrent as he (or rather, his horse) galloped ever closer, his (Colin’s, not the horse’s) only intention to reach her side.

But no, she had to go and fall in love with Colin Bridgerton when he fell off a horse and landed on his bottom in a mud puddle. It was highly irregular, and highly unromantic, but there was a certain poetic justice in that, since nothing was ever going to come of it.

Why waste romance on a love that would never be returned? Better to save the windswept-moor introductions for people who might actually have a future together.

And if there was one thing Penelope knew, even then, at the age of sixteen years minus two days, it was that her future did not feature Colin Bridgerton in the role of husband.

She simply wasn’t the sort of girl who attracted a man like him, and she feared that she never would be.

Romancing Mister Bridgerton - Prologue

#polin #polinedit #bridgerton #bridgertonedit #dailybridgerton #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #romancing mister bridgerton #mine #mine: bridgerton

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just-some-user-hunny · 6 months ago

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The Cannibal dragon headcanons ...

(art credit for middle image, ig: dracalyss)

. Cannibal is a huge dragon, the largest of all wild-dragons, but I can't see him being any larger than Vhagar- let alone Balerian the black dread. I imagine he'd be a tad bit smaller than Vhagar- just about. His build is bulky and scarred, a thick neck of scarred obsidian scales, a set of jagged jet-black spikes that run along his spine, and covered in thick taut muscle and hardened flesh. His eyes are a blazing emerald green, teeth sharp and jagged like a shark.

. I also love the idea of him having this 'grinning' look on his face, like a crocodile or the indoraptor from Jurassic world. (His personality screams indoraptor to me, just a mean guy with a nasty lil goblin grin). And with his torn jaw and exposed teeth, it makes him look even creepier and menacing. There's something way too...human about it. Expressive in both his grin and mannerisms.

He's definitely a stare-er too. Something about a monstrously big dragon being unnervingly quiet and observing is uncomfortable, which is exactly the vibes he gives off.

. I like to visualize him as a very 'wild' looking dragon, like how'd you imagine a stray feral cat. His scales are rough and weather-worn, covered in large claw-like scars from fighting and hunting other dragons throughout his life. There's also fanart of him missing a huge chunk of flesh around his jaw and mouth, baring his teeth, which I think looks really cool :) as a young dragon he probably picked off the small and easy dragons, ones that wouldn't put up much of a fight. But as he grew in age and size, he would probably grow cocky and try his luck with larger prey. Due to him being an absolute monster, I'd imagine he'd often come up on top- but not without earning a few disfiguring scars in return.

. Despite never being bonded to a rider before, nor being ridden before in his life (he'd scoff at the mere thought of some little measly human thinking that they could climb upon his back and treat him like a pony), once he bonded with you it was like an instant connection. He is still a little edgy and unpredictable, but there is one thing for certain and that is he is always as gentle as possible with you. He'll press his body into the dirt if it allows you to climb on and off safely, craning his claws and jaw for you to step upon.

. He wouldn't wear a saddle, so you'd have to learn to ride him bareback. Thankfully he has many jagged scales and spikes to cling onto, but to be on the safe side, you'd have special riding gear to wear to help cling on. Rougher gloves and boots and trousers, it certainly helps, even if it's just a little. If anything the fact you ride bareback is a testament of your bond, showing how close and in sync you both are.

. The biggest issue with him would be his... diet, and how he'd have to adapt once he begins to hang around dragonstone more often. I'd imagine he wouldn't eat much, adding to the unpredictability of him and when he would hunt, but as his rider you'd have to supply him at least livestock every week to keep him happy and saturated. Cows, horses, large livestock due to his sheer size.

. He flies quite similar to Vhagar. His form is heavy, and although strong, he is lumbering.

Although at his age now he'd be a rather ancient dragon, he wouldn't really show his age besides a few moments where he just wants to curl up in his little cave upon his ✨private island ✨ to take a nap. In his youth he was most likely a very quick dragon, like a stalking panther striking upon his food. (Being younger dragons and hatchlings). I've seen someone write about him being a silent hunter (I'll reblog and credit once I find them), but that's such a neat idea for his character! He's survived from hunting his own kind, so he's going to hunt differently. Smarter.

. His fire in the books is described as green, and that's just too cool to swap it out with normal fire. Blazing emerald flames that engulf earth and prey, unnatural and mystical. It'd be very distinctive as well, whoever finds their fields or flocks of trees burning and crackling in a blaze of green fire, they'd know that the cannibal had just been there.

. Personality wise, I feel like he'd be cruel and sadistic, but wise and grumpy. Probably cocky as well, for having survived on his for so long and through unconventional means.

He's not a hardheaded bully, he's very tactical when it comes to facing challenges, but at this point he's such a huge threat he may be blinded by his own ego and emotions. If something were to happen to his rider, he'd make sure you'd get avenged. He's ride or die, quite literally. He'll burn everything down for you, because he feels strongly for the one human he feels he can trust. His grief is not silent or tearful, it's angry.

#the cannibal dragon #the cannibal #hotd cannibal #house of the dragon cannibal #dragons #cannibal dragon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #hotd headcanons

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lionneee · 2 months ago

Text

On The Bottom Of The Ocean

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: smut, piv, degradation, slapping, chocking, dub-con, belt-play.•

Ghost!Aemond x Modern!Reader

Harrenhal, was the center of the story of Prince Aemond’s tragic fall.

Harrenhal was key to Prince Aemond Targaryen’s downfall in the Dance of the Dragons. Stationed there, Aemond took it as a base for the Greens. When Daemon Targaryen arrived with Caraxes, he lured Aemond into a fateful aerial duel. The two fought over the God’s Eye lake, where Daemon killed Aemond midair by plunging his sword through Aemond’s eye. Both riders and dragons fell, marking Harrenhal as the site of Aemond’s tragic end.

Aemond’s character has always intrigued you, and you always craved to find his skeleton in the bottom of the ocean, his and his beautiful dragon, a beast of a massive size, and power.

You have read all the stories about Aemond’s life, the loss of his eye, the murder of his nephew, the starting of the war, his attempt to murder his brother, his period as Prince Regent.

When he was sent to Harrenal, his secret relationship with Alys.

His death.

Your parents were never enthusiastic of your fixation with One-Eyed Aemond, his evilness was known to them as well as all the people who studied history.

Yet, you believed there was more in him than simple evilness.

So you knew you had a one chance in life when your parents had to move in King's Landing for a few weeks because of your grandma sickness.

It was the moment to make good of your scuba diving lessons.

𓂃𓂃𓂃 𓆉 𓂃𓂃𓂃

You took a few breaths as you looked at the water as you sat at the edge of your boat.

The water was deep blue, it was almost scary.

But you were determined.

You had studied the position with precision, considering the current of the water over the years.

You were miles above the position you believed Aemond’s skeleton was.

You took a few deep breaths, exercising yourself before diving into the water.

You knew this was dangerous, even more since you were alone but you felt like you had to do it.

You needed to see him with your eyes.

With one last deep breath you put on the oxygen mask and let yourself fall into the water.

It was cold. Colder than usual, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

It was like the water itself was trying to tell you to emerge and go back home.

No. No, you had to see him.

You kept swimming, pointing the light to check you were safe, and heading in the right direction.

You distracted yourself only a moment, and your chest suddenly hit something.

You gasped and immediately jerked away, startled as you moved the light to point in front of you.

A bone.

A rib.

A massive rib. The diameter was probably over five inches, and the curve was way bigger than the one of a human.

You lightened around, then you caught the glimpse of her.

Vaghar.

You were right.

You were fucking right!

Aswam towards the cranium, getting closer to her mouth, your height covered maybe the length of one of her teeth.

You quickly took off one of your gloves and placed your hand on her skull, smiling, as you started to swim around her skull, caressing the bones.

You looked around, moving the light to accommodate you right, when something reflected the light against you.

Something blue.

It was right in the middle of the remains of the large dragon.

You swam towards the blue, finding a saddle, chains, and other bones. As the realization hit you, you started swimming faster, extending your uncovered hand, ready to touch the sapphire.

Aemond Targaryen.

As soon as you touched it, you felt some kind of electric shock run through your hand up your arm and chest.

You scanned the bones with your eyes, before returning to the sapphire. It almost seemed to sparked of its own light, it almost felt like it was alive.

The skeleton was still chained to the saddle, even if it was covered in kelps.

You wanted to stay longer, study the surroundings better, but your oxygen tank was slowly reaching its limit.

You sighed and quickly swam back towards the surface, reaching your boat.

You had to buy another tank and go back down there.

You had to.

𓂃𓂃𓂃 𓆉 𓂃𓂃𓂃

You were thrilled, to say the least, about your discovery.

Even if in a dark sort of way, you could finally say that you met Aemond Targaryen.

As soon as you reached home, you let out a little scream and started to jump from the excitement, that you didn’t feel it containable.

During your shower you sang your playlist loudly and shamelessly, you were too happy to care about anything.

You made it.

You still had a smile printed on your face as you walked back in your room, your hair dried, your body covered only by a towel.

Then you heard the doorbell.

You looked back towards the door, confused.

Who could it be?

You weren’t expecting anyone, but maybe your parents returned home earlier than scheduled.

You tightened the towel around your body and you walked to the door.

“Who is it?” You asked through the door.

“You know me.” A male voice said from outside. Your brows furrowed, confusion written on your face, the voice sounded like no one you knew.

“What’s your name?” You tried again.

“You visited me today.” He said with a sigh. “I have your wallet, you lost it.” He added then.

You walked over the door and opened slightly.

White hair, sharp jaw, prominent chin.

“Who are you?” You asked as you felt your heart pumping in your throat. The man turned his face, a devilish smirk on his face as his eyepatch came in your field of view.

“Aemond.” He took a step forward, slamming his hand on your door, making you fall back, the door opening completely. “Aemond Targaryen.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, glancing down at you.

He was tall. You’ve often imagined it, but seeing him towering over you like this, surely made him taller.

You shook your head, confused and terrified.

“That - That’s impossible. You’re dead.” You saw his smirk growing wider at your words. He raised his hand and looked at it.

“I don’t look so dead to me. What do you think, slut?” He took a step forward, but you immediately crawled back.

“This is a sick game.” You shook your head. “You think it’s funny to dress up like him?” Your hand immediately flew to your towel as you felt it loosen slightly around you.

“Dressing up?” He bent down in front of you, so you could see his face perfectly.

The scar, the shape of his face, his hair, even his clothes.

They were perfect. What made you truly believe him though, was when he took off his eyepatch.

A blue sapphire instead of his eye.

And you’ve seen that sapphire, from up close.

It was him.

“N-no… it’s impossible.” You shook your head, completely in denial.

Aemond rolled his eye, his hand moving on the back of your hair, gripping them tightly in his fist.

You whined as your hand flew to his wrist, trying to get him off of you, but he seemed irremovable.

He used the hold on your hair to lift you up from the floor, and he kept his arm raised as he studied your face.

“You want to see just how real I am, whore?” He smirked as he started dragging you back.

“Stop! I’m not a slut, or a whore!” You tried to free yourself, but it all seemed useless.

“Sure you are. Who else would welcome a man dressed like that?” He nodded towards your towel. You whined loudly as he shoved you on the bed, your hands immediately fixing the towel to cover yourself.

“It's not a dress, it's just a –” He gripped your cheeks in his hand, squeezing them harshly, growling annoyed at your talking.

“I’ve had more silent whores than you. Shut your mouth.” He pressed your head against the mattress as he hovered over you. “Even if…” His hand trailed over your body, over the towel, shamelessly, his eye sparkling with desire. “Not as pretty as you.” He grinned as he started to move the towel.

“No-” You immediately gripped his hands, but he let go of your cheeks and gripped your wrists, using his eyepatch to tie them together over your head. “No!” You squirmed, regretting it immediately as you felt the towel losing even more, letting him see more of your skin.

His eye darkened, his pupil dilated as he looked down at you, keeping your wrists pressed against the bed with one hand as his other hand moved to his belt that was keeping his black leather coat closed. He quickly unbuckled it, taking advantage of your squirming, your head raising to slip it behind your head and closing it around your neck.

You immediately froze as the belt tightened around your throat, making it hard to breathe.

Your gaze immediately fell on him, your eyes widened as you looked at him grin.

“I know, I have quite questionable tastes.” He gave a tug at the belt, the material tightening even more, making you cough and move your hands to the belt to loosen it up enough to breathe easily.

Aemond didn’t stop you, he watched closely as you struggled beneath him.

“You know, the one I had before you was older.” He smirked. “She didn’t like me on top.” He pulled away to take off his coat, then his shirt.

You would have lied if you would have said he wasn’t incredibly sexy.

His muscles flexed at every move he did, as he folded his coat and shirt and placed them on the table, as he took off his pants. His bicep flexed deliciously as his hand wrapped his cock, pumping it to full hardness as he walked back to the bed.

You should have run.

But it was too late anyway. Aemond grabbed the belt again and opened your legs with his hands.

“No, I-I’m not a whore!” You raised your voice, but the sound that came out of your mouth the moment Aemond fucked his cock inside you, was even louder.

It was big.

Big enough to fucking hurt.

You cried out and tried to close your legs, push him away, anything to get him away from you, but all you’ve earned was him pulling the belt, the string wrapped around his gist to make it easier and faster to choke you whenever he wanted.

You arched your back as you gasped for air, your fingers trying to get under the belt, your nails scratching desperately your skin.

Aemond groaned as he stood still for a moment, enjoying the tightness that your spa smile, violated walls were giving to his cock.

“Fuck…” He groaned. “I haven’t felt like this for… Gods I don’t even know how long anymore.” He pulled back for a moment, only to trust back in harshly.

He moved slowly, but deep, and hard.

And you hated it.

You hated it because it was so fucking good.

He finally stopped pulling the belt, so you managed to loosen it again.

You took a deep breath, that one of his thrusts quickly took away.

You moved your wrists down, you pressed them against his abdomen, a weak protest against his movements, but Aemond was quick to yank them away.

“Fucking stay still, you whore.” He growled as he gripped your hips from under your legs, and started thrusting faster, pulling your body back to his, forcing you to meet every one of his thrusts, forcing you to take his cock inside you, his painfully, deliciously long, thick cock.

You could feel your insides begging you to push him away, to make him let go of you, but at the same time, the stinging stretch was becoming pleasurable, your walls slowly coating the skin of his cock with your fluids, making it easier for him to slip back in.

“Starting to like it? Uh?” He chuckled darkly, speaking with arrogance.

He knew he was good.

“Fuck you!” You whined as your back arched, the movement stretched the belt, that tightened slightly around your neck again, but it wasn’t enough to make it impossible to breathe.

It only made your eyes roll back, you head dizzy, and suddenly, the only thing you could feel was him, fucking you like a doll, bringing you a pleasure no one, not even yourself has ever been able to make you feel.

“You’re tight for a whore —” He panted. “So tight —“ He looked down at his cock, how it disappeared from his sight as he pushed inside you, he watched how your cunt would suck him in.

You moaned loudly, the sound half strained by the belt, as Aemond pulled it again. You knew you had to be ashamed of how much you were enjoying it, or about your expression, of how your mouth hung open, of your tongue falling out. The belt cutting off your breathing was just the cherry on top.

Your head was dizzy, your mind obfuscated by pleasure.

“Look at you.” He scoffed as he started to thrust harder, faster. “Acting out for not wanting it, but now…” He looked at your face, the expression of pure pleasure written all over your features. “So fucked up you can’t even talk. Or protest.”

You moaned as he kept thrusting inside you, and the sight made something inside Aemond snap.

He immediately leaned over, placing a hand on the mattress beside your head to keep himself up, his other hand slipping under the belt, closing around it in a fist, and tugging your face closer by the grip. His thrusts became suddenly more intense and harder.

“You don’t even want to. You don’t want to protest.” He growled in front of your face. “You like my cock so much?” He tilted his head to the side, looking down at your face. “You like how I fuck you? How I am reducing you into a complete useless, stupid, whore?”

You moaned louder, the tip of his cock brushing mercilessly against a sensitive, very sensitive spot inside you, that you didn’t even know existed.

“Shit!” You whined loudly as every muscle of your body tensed, ready to snap.

Aemond did just that.

He didn’t stop, he kept moving, he kept wrecking you even through the most powerful orgasm you ever experienced.

You cried out as you squirmed beneath him, your whole body trembling and asking for a break, but he seemed unstoppable.

His eye was fixed on your face as he raised back on his feet, letting go of the belt. He slapped your face before grabbing your hips and lifting them from the bed so he could move you however he wanted.

Your walls were still spasming from your orgasm, and Aemond couldn’t think of something in his life remotely as pleasurable as that.

“Now make me come.” He growled as he deliberately moved your body, his fingers digging in your hips.

“Please, wait –” You sobbed. “Aem -” He slapped you immediately as he heard half his name coming from your lips.

“Shut up.” He growled, positioning your ankles on each side of his neck, both his hands wrapping around your neck, not enough to cut off all of your air, but mostly of it.

“A-Aem –” Your hands immediately flew over his as he started moving faster, his eyes closed as he clenched his jaw.

He let out a moan, then another one before letting his head fall back, giving you a clear view of his Adam apple moving, and the prominent veins on it.

He tightened his hold on your neck, effectively choking you as he gave you the last few thrusts, shooting his load inside you.

You hit his hands, wrists, his arms, you scratched him, you tried anything to get his hands off your neck, but he wouldn’t let go.

“I’m keeping you.” Those were the last words you heard before it all turned black.

𓂃𓂃𓂃 𓆉 𓂃𓂃𓂃

You woke up sore, confused, and tired.

What the fuck happened?

Ghost Aemond fucking you was surely a strange dream.

“I’m keeping you.”

A shiver went down your back as you heard those words again in your head.

A dream.

You moved the blankets off of you and sat up on the edge of the bed, and as soon as you eyes landed on your thighs, another shiver shook your body.

Bruises.

The ones a hand would do.

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy @agoldenwoe @sapphirevhagar

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shegatsby · 11 months ago

Text

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; HI!!! Its been a long time since I wrote a series but i cannot resist Feyd. English isn''t my first language so go easy on me. There will be smut in the future chapters. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉)

Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 1.520K

Chapter 2

Chapter One – ‘’Meeting in flesh and blood’’

‘’Right behind you!’’ Irulan screamed as she was riding her horse to match Y/N’s. Y/N was a skilled rider, the wind in her long hair, she laughed at Irulan’s attempt of winning the race and focused on the finish line. Planet Kaitian which was the second Capital of the Corrino Empire had so many opportunities for Padishah Emperor Shaddam’s daughter Irulan and his beloved Y/N. The planet had forests, lakes and rivers so Y/N didn’t miss much of her home planet Caladan, she sometimes tossed and turned in her bed thinking of her family members but she was taken to Kaitain years ago. Irulan and Y/N were the same age and when Shaddam couldn’t have more children he asked Duke Leto Atreides to bring his first born daughter to be sisters with Irulan. Leto tried to find so many ways to refuse Padishah Emperor yet he was the ultimate power in the entire galaxy and Leto had no choice but to give his daughter Y/N. She was one years old when the arrangements were made. She could see her family at political events or celebrations, she had been in Caladan few times yet she felt stranger to the planet and she felt stranger to Kaitain as well. She has always wondered if, by any chance one day she would feel the sensation of ‘’being at home’’ nowhere and no one was her home. Maybe this was her fate.

When she finished the race her horse calmed down, Irulan followed behind. ‘’I swear you’re cheating and I am going to find out.’’ She was joking of course, Irulan and Y/N had a close relationship yet Y/N never forgot that she was a princess and there for needed to be treated more cautiously than the other lords and ladies of the galaxy. Together they hopped off of their horses, ‘’Walk with me.’’ Irulan’s voice was soft yet direct. Her short blonde hair got messy, hem of her white long dress covered in mud, she was carefree when she was with Y/N.

Y/N had the color of her house Atreides. Green. Her green dress felt so light, they were walking on the grass for few minutes in silence., Y/N knew that Irulan wanted to say something.

Palace’s gardens were evergreen, gardeners achieved perfection. Gardens smelled of flowers at any time of the year. Irulan stopped in her tracks, they turned to soak in the scenery before their eyes, the entire planet was under their feet. Servants’ chatters could be heard, no matter what they were never alone. ‘’Soon my father will throw a ball for me.’’ She looked distant, Padishah Emperor Shaddam never had parties without a solid reason, it must be political. Before Y/N could ask Irulan explained simply, ‘’I will meet the man I have to marry.’’ Y/N knew one day that she had to marry someone in order to protect the power they had over the galaxy but she never thought the date would come this quick. Y/N had already a lover, only Irulan knew because he was from a lower house. She had a childish hope that one day she would marry him.

Irulan laughed in sarcasm, ‘’How I wish to be you, sister!’’ it was obvious that Irulan dreaded the situation.

There were no arrangements for Y/N and she was free for a long time or so she thought.

‘’I trust in Emperor’s decision. He won’t wed you to someone unworthy.’’ She tried to encourage her dear friend but Irulan stood there like a stone. ‘’Let’s head back.’’ Y/N said. A hollow silence followed them to the dining hall. Emperor couldn’t attend because he was dealing with preparations of the ball. The white marble fire place was lit and orange colors danced in the room, the dining hall was adorned with lavish furniture and a long wooden table. The wood came from Giedi Prime, it was called Pilingitam.

Irulan seemed troubled, ‘’What’s on your mind sister?’’ Y/N asked. She was concerned for her, if she knew that she had to be concerned for herself…

She watched Irulan’s palm slithering on the Pilingitam table,’’ Majority of the houses will be at the ball,’’ she looked up to meet Y/N’s curious eyes, ‘’The Harkonnens will be too.’’ Y/N’s blood ran cold, she remembered the times where Emperor used to take them to Giedi Prime for political reasons. They had to sit and watch the games in the black and white arena. Gladiators killing each other…

She remembered a boy with pure blue eyes and full lips, ‘’I will fight there too when I’m old enogh.’’ He was sitting next to Y/N in his black outfit. He closed the tiny gap between him and Y/N, and he spoke quietly, ‘’Will you come and watch me?’’ he was speaking as if killing was a normal act. His knee touching Y/N’s, she remembered distinctly that the boy interlaced his little finger with hers. They were ten and yet Y/N could see Baron Vladimir’s influence on his poor nephew.

Y/N didn’t need to go back in her memories to detest the Harkonnens. Their families were in and out of war for centuries. Thankfully for a long time peace was kept. ‘’I will manage.’’ She insured Irulan with a genuine smile yet it wasn’t enough. Y/N brushed it off, after dinner she had mental training anyways.

Until the day of the ball she corresponded with her lover, Pyramus

He was a tall man with dark curls and jet black eyes. His beard always tickled her face.

She spent her days training and accompanying Irulan. Irulan grew restless as the they approached.

One by one the ships started to arrive, one could look up to the busy blue sky and see. Y/N’s family arrived early to see her and spend time with her. Lady Jessica, her mother, immediately questioned her about Y/N’s Bene Gesserit training, Duke Leto was happy to see her daughter once again. Paul, her one year younger brother gave her a tight hug.

They were united once more, she escorted them to their quarters in the palace and retrieved to get ready for the event. She wore a green dress with emeralds on her chest and waist, her maid braided her hair in Atreides style. She also wore an emerald tiara. Paul Atreides knocked on her door to escort her to the ball room, he looked sharp in his dark green suit. ‘’You seem nervous.’’ He questioned, -Y/N knew that her mother was teaching Bene Gesserit ways to her brother,- yes she was nervous because she was going to be reunited with her lover. ‘’Too many people.’’ She responded. Servants were running with food and wine on the corridors, music could be heard from a distance. Members of houses were having conversations about spice, politics, etc.

The doors of the room were open, inside was lit by the yellow warm lights coming from glowglobes, guests laughing and drinking. Tallest member was Baron Vladimir due to hanging in the air, eating like a mad man but she ignored him.

Her eyes searching for her lover, so blind to an outsider who got her under his radar.

Paul and Y/N walked to the table of their house, ‘’You look lovely my girl.’’ Duke Leto kissed her daughter’s forehead, it didn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone. He was a snake, silently slithering close to his prey.

Padishah Emperor Shaddam and his daughter Princess Irulan were announced and slowly entered the room, everyone bowed. They took their seats and Emperor greeted everyone, thanked them for coming to his feast and he also announced that he would choose the life partner of his daughter among his unmarried male guests. Duke Leto found himself watching his daughter with sad eyes, he wondered if he could see her wedding one day. Would she be happy and fortunate like him? Only time would tell but he prayed quietly.

It was time to dance, couples held each others’ hands and marched to the dance floor, Paul excused himself and went to ask the princess to dance with him. Leto happily asked Jessica to dance with him, Y/N wished that they were officially married but to keep his position as a powerful bachelor, other houses worked for him hoping that one day Duke Leto would marry one of their daughters. It was a well played game of chess on Atreides’s part. Y/N watched Irulan and Paul talking silently and dancing.

Soon Pyramus came with a huge smile. He kissed her hand and winked at her, ‘’My beautiful lady, would you be so kind and accompany me on the dance floor?’’ she tried so hard not to grin, ‘’Of course my lord.’’ He was in his house’s color, yellow. Hand in hand they mingled among the other couples, ‘’I’ve missed you.’’ He whispered. ‘’Not here.’’ She used the voice on him and his mouth closed in a second. Only their eyes talked.

They heard a rough cough and turned to face the intruder, Y/N had no idea that she would meet him in flesh and blood, ‘’Feyd…’’

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mysunshinetemptress · 1 month ago

Text

Taste of Heaven

Tex Universe

You feel so out of place amongst the jerseys, your hat placed firmly on your head even as different passerby stare at you. You're used to rodeos, the smell of dirt and unruly animals, muck-covered boots, and dust-covered faces, not seats with backs on them, concrete floors and big green pitches.

You're decked out in your boots and hat, while people run around you in jerseys and shorts, flags covering their bodys and scarfs with who you can only presume are players faces on them, face paint covering their cheeks.

Mitch looks just as lost as he hands you a hot dog "Why are they dressed like that." He asks as a teenage girl walks past eyeing you suspiciously, "I think they are thinking the same thing." You decide finding your seats would be a better option then standing amongst the crowd.

At the rodeo, the focus was on the animals, the skill of the riders, the raw power of the competition. Here, the focus seemed to be on… everything else. The noise was deafening – a cacophony of cheers, chants, and the constant blare of music from the stadium speakers. It was a far cry from the low rumble of the livestock, the sharp crack of the starting gate, the announcer’s booming voice echoing across the arena.

You tugged on the brim of your hat a nervous habit you usually reserved for the moments Mitch or your brothers would burst from the chute on top of a bucking bull.

Finding your seat you can't help but stare at the pitch infront of you, it was an unnatural green, perfectly manicured and impossibly smooth, a stark contrast to the dusty, uneven ground of the rodeo arena. There were no bucking broncos, no charging bulls, no cowboys risking life and limb. Instead, small figures in brightly colored uniforms ran back and forth, chasing a small white ball. It seemed… tame.

"Wheres Leah." Mitch asks as he leans into you but you're already looking right at her, your eyes track her every move as she runs back and forth, you simply point at her.

The game unfolds in a flurry of movement. The crowd roars with every near miss, every close call. You still don’t quite understand the rules, but you’re starting to grasp the rhythm of the game. It’s a dance of strategy and athleticism, a constant push and pull between two opposing forces. It's not the raw, untamed energy of the rodeo, but it has its own kind of intensity.

Mitch, ever the pragmatist, is now fully engrossed in the game, asking you questions about the players, the score, the purpose of certain plays. You shrug most of them off, your attention fixed on Leah. You see her intercept a pass, her tall frame weaving through two her opponents. The crowd beside you erupts as she kicks the ball down the field, a collective groan echoing through the stadium as it’s blocked by the opposing goalie.

“She’s fast,” Mitch comments, nudging you with his elbow. You turn nod going to agree before you feel a tap on your shoulder. "I can't see."

You turn to find a small boy, maybe eight or nine years old, peering up at you from behind a bright blue jersey that dwarfed his small frame. He was clutching a foam finger almost as big as his arm. “I can’t see,” he repeated, his voice barely audible above the roar of the crowd. "Your hat, its in my way." You laugh letting out a small sorry before taking it off and placing it on your leg.

The boy beamed, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Thanks!" he chirped, immediately turning back to the field, his eyes glued to the action. You glanced down at your hat, feeling strangely bare without it. It felt like shedding a layer of skin, exposing a vulnerability you weren't used to displaying in public. You were so accustomed to the familiar weight of it, the way it shielded your eyes from the sun and the judging stares of strangers.

The game continued, and you found yourself getting more invested than you expected. You started to understand the flow of the game, the way the players moved as a unit, anticipating each other’s actions. It was a different kind of teamwork than you were used to seeing at the rodeo, where it was often man against beast. Here, it was a collective effort, a synchronized dance of skill and strategy.

You watched Leah closely, admiring her athleticism and determination. She moved with a grace and power that reminded you of a wild mustang, untamed and free. You could see the fire in her eyes, the burning desire to win. It was a familiar fire, one that burned within you too, whether you were on horseback or simply watching from the sidelines.

During a break in the game, Leah jogged towards the sidelines, catching sight of you and Mitch as you slip your hat back on standing up to make use of halftime. A wide smile spread across her face as she waved. You gave her a small wave back, feeling a surge of pride. She was thriving in this environment, embracing the energy and excitement of the game.

The little boy behind you tapped your shoulder again. "She's good," he said, pointing at Leah. "She's gonna score next time."

You nodded in agreement. "I think you're right."

“Are you a real cowboy?” the boy asked, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief. You glanced down at your boots, worn leather scuffed from years of riding and ranch work, then up at your jeans, faded and patched in places. You were a walking, talking testament to a life lived outdoors, a stark contrast to the sea of brightly colored jerseys and painted faces surrounding you.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “I reckon I am,” you replied, your voice a low drawl that seemed to amplify the difference between you and the rest of the crowd.

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Wow,” he breathed, as if you’d just revealed some great, hidden secret. “Do you… do you ride bulls?”

“Used to,” you said, a flicker of memory – the adrenaline, the fear, the sheer exhilaration – passing through your mind. “Mostly horses now. And work the ranch.”

“Cool!” he exclaimed. He paused for a moment, then added in a hushed tone, “My dad says cowboys are tough.”

“They have to be,” you agreed, thinking of the long days, the unpredictable weather, the stubborn animals. It wasn’t a glamorous life, but it was a life you loved.

“Did you ever get bucked off?” the boy asked, leaning forward conspiratorially.

You chuckled. “More times than I can count,” you admitted. “It’s part of the job.”

The boy giggled, clearly delighted by this admission. He seemed to have forgotten all about the game for the moment, his attention completely focused on you.

Mitch, who had been listening to the conversation with amusement, leaned in and ruffled the boy’s hair. "She's the best cowgirl out there, don't let her tell you otherwise."

You shook your head, a grin spreading across your face. “Just a cowgirl” you corrected him gently.

Just then, the whistle blew, signaling the start of the second half. The crowd erupted once again, the noise washing over you in a wave of sound. The boy turned back to the field, his foam finger raised high in the air.

You watched Leah as she sprinted down the field, her eyes fixed on the ball. You saw the determination in her face, the same fire that burned within you. And you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your bones, that she was going to make something happen.

And then, it happened. Leah received a pass, deftly maneuvering around two defenders. The crowd held its breath as she approached the goal. With a powerful kick, she sent the ball soaring through the air, past the outstretched hands of the goalie, and into the back of the net.

The stadium erupted. The roar of the crowd was deafening, a wave of pure joy and excitement. You jumped to your feet, clapping and cheering along with everyone else. The little boy behind you was jumping up and down, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“I told you!” he yelled, turning to you with a triumphant grin. “She scored! She’s the best!”

You laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You were right,” you admitted.

The match ends shortly after and you can't help but stand there awkwardly, what happens now, is that it, is that the only glimpse of Leah you get.

You watch as she flutters around people hugging them, chatting excitdly but mitch digs you in the back pulling your attention, "What now." You shrug "leave i guess she-she never said anything about after so i guess that was it." Mitch can tell your upset, its weird the connection you and Leah have, for people who spend such little time together.

Mitch gives you a knowing look, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Come on, you really think that's it?" he asks, nudging you with his elbow. "She wouldn't have invited us if she didn't want to hang out."

You shift uncomfortably, tugging at the brim of your hat again, a habit you thought you really wish you would kick. "I don't know, Mitch. It's… different. This whole thing is different." You gesture vaguely around at the emptying stadium, the lingering echoes of the crowd's roar. "I doubt I'm exactly her type, am I?"

Mitch rolls his eyes. "Since when do you care about types? You two clearly hit it off. Just give it a chance." He claps you on the shoulder.

You shake your head your eyes searching for the blonde once more "Let's just go." sighing Mitch follows you as you head towards the steps.

"Oye Texas, where do you think you're going?" a voice called out, cutting through the dispersing crowd. You froze, your hand tightening on the brim of your hat. That voice, laced with a familiar mix of amusement and exasperation, belonged to Leah.

You turned, your heart doing a funny little skip in your chest. Leah was jogging towards you, her teammates trailing behind her, offering her high fives and words of congratulations. Her face was flushed with exertion and excitement, but her smile was bright as she approached.

"We were just… leaving," you mumbled, feeling suddenly awkward under her gaze. You glanced at Mitch, who was grinning at you like a Cheshire cat.

"I've got to be back in Montana soon, you know where i'm from not Texas."

Leah stopped in front of you, her smile widening. "Leaving? The party's just getting started!" She gestured to her teammates, who had now caught up and were looking at you with curious smiles. "Guys, this is my friend, uh…" she trailed off, looking at you expectantly.

"Y/n" you supplied quickly, feeling your cheeks flush.

"Right, this is Texas, and this is Mitch. They came to watch the game."

"It was a great game," one of Leah's teammates, a girl with a different coloured, jersey and a mischievous glint in her eyes, said. "You guys brought us good luck."

"Yeah, especially when you took your hat off," another teammate teased, nudging the first girl playfully.

You felt your face heat up even more at the mention of the hat. You glanced down at it, clutched in your hand.

Leah laughed, putting a hand on your arm. "Don't mind them," she said. "They're just messing with you. So," she continued, turning her attention back to you, "we're going out to celebrate. You guys wanna come?"

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. You glanced at Mitch, who was practically bouncing with excitement. You looked back at Leah, her eyes sparkling with genuine enthusiasm.

"I…" you started, then hesitated. You were still feeling out of place, still unsure of yourself in this unfamiliar environment. But there was something about Leah's open and welcoming demeanor that made you want to say yes.

"Come on," Leah urged, her smile infectious. "It'll be fun. We can talk about… well, anything but football, if you want." She winked.

You took a deep breath, pushing down your lingering doubts. "Alright," you said, a small smile finally spreading across your own face. "We'll come."

A cheer erupted from Leah's teammates, and you couldn't help but laugh. You looked at Mitch, who gave you a thumbs-up. You looked back at Leah, whose eyes were shining with excitement.

You wait kicking your boot into the ground impatiently for the girls to finish getting ready freezing as you feel your hat being pulled off your head.

Leah laughs "Can I try it on." You stutter to answer "I-eh-i" Mitch snatches it out of the England captains hand "Only if you plan on sleeping with her."

The air crackled with a sudden tension. The playful atmosphere shifted, a subtle undercurrent of something you couldn't quite place rippling through the group. Leah’s hand, which had been reaching for the hat, froze mid-air. Her eyes flicked from the hat in Mitch’s grasp to your face, a flicker of surprise, then something akin to… amusement?

Mitch, oblivious to the change in the air, grinned, holding the hat just out of Leah’s reach. “Only if you plan on sleeping with her,” he repeated, his tone light and teasing. But the words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

You felt your stomach drop. You shot Mitch a warning glare, a silent plea to drop it. This wasn't the time, this wasn't the place, and certainly not in front of Leah's teammates. You could feel your face burning, a blush creeping up your neck. You weren't used to this kind of open flirtation, especially not directed at you.

Leah, however, surprised you. Instead of recoiling or getting offended, a slow smile spread across her face. She tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with a playful challenge. “Is that how it works in Montana?” she asked, her voice smooth and teasing, a hint of a British accent coloring her words. “Hats as a pre-requisite for… companionship?”

The other girls erupted in giggles, the tension dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. Mitch, finally realizing he might have overstepped, lowered the hat slightly, a sheepish grin replacing his earlier bravado.

“Nah, I just… didn’t want you to mess up your hair,” he mumbled, offering the hat to Leah. He shot you an apologetic glance, a silent promise to explain later.

Leah took the hat, her fingers brushing against Mitch’s as she did so. She placed it carefully on her head, tilting the brim at a jaunty angle. She looked at you, a playful glint in her eyes. “How do I look?”

You couldn't help but smile. Despite the awkwardness of the moment, Leah handled it with grace and humor. She looked… surprisingly good in your hat. The worn leather and dusty brim contrasted sharply with her bright, athletic appearance, but somehow, it worked.

“Like you’re about to ride a bull,” you said, your voice a little rougher than you intended.

Leah laughed, a genuine, warm sound that made your chest feel tight. “Is that a good thing?”

“Depends on if you can stay on,” you replied, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Leah winked. “I’m a quick learner,” she said, adjusting the hat slightly. She turned to her teammates, striking a pose. “Right, ladies? Let’s show these cowboys how we do it in England.”

The girls cheered, their earlier curiosity replaced with genuine excitement. The atmosphere was light and playful again, the awkward moment forgotten.

As they finally headed out, Leah handed your hat back, her fingers lingering on yours for a brief moment. “Thanks for letting me borrow it, Texas,” she said, her voice soft.

“Anytime,” you mumbled, your eyes meeting hers. There was a moment of quiet understanding between you, a shared acknowledgment of the strange little dance that had just taken place.

As you walked towards the restaurant, Mitch clapped you on the back. "See? I told you she liked you."

You shoved him playfully, still processing everything that had just happened. "Shut up," you mumbled, but a small smile played on your lips.

The evening that followed was a whirlwind of laughter, good food, and surprisingly engaging conversation. You found yourself relaxing more and more as the night went on, the initial awkwardness fading into the background. You talked to Leah about everything and nothing – her passion for football, your life on the ranch, the differences between Montana and England, the similarities between rodeos and football matches.

You're so lost in converstation that you don't notice the skeeming going on around you until Millie Bright wraps her arms around you both "To the club."

The declaration hung in the air, thick with the promise of more noise, more people, and more unfamiliar territory. You blinked, momentarily stunned. A club? This was escalating quickly. You glanced at Mitch, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat, then at Leah, whose eyes sparkled with mischief.

“A club?” you echoed, your voice laced with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. You weren’t exactly a stranger to bars – you’d frequented your fair share of honky-tonks back home – but a “club” sounded different. Louder. More… intense.

Millie, oblivious to your internal debate, tightened her grip on your arms, pulling you and Leah closer. “Yeah! It’s just down the street. They play great music, and it’s the perfect place to celebrate a win.”

Leah nodded in agreement. “It’ll be fun,” she reassured you, her smile warm and inviting. “You can show us some of those cowboy dance moves I’ve heard so much about.”

You chuckled, a nervous flutter in your stomach. Cowboy dance moves? You weren’t sure if the two-step you occasionally did at the local bar qualified as “cowboy dance moves.”

“I don’t know…” you began, your gaze shifting between Leah and Millie. “I’m not really dressed for…” you gestured down at your jeans and boots, feeling acutely aware of how out of place you looked compared to the other girls, who were dressed in stylish casual wear.

“Nonsense!” Millie exclaimed, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s a casual place. Besides,” she added with a wink, “you look great.”

Leah echoed Millie's sentiment. "You look fine, besides, it'll be a laugh, it's not like we're going to Buckingham Palace."

Before you could protest further, you were being swept along by the group, a tide of laughter and chatter carrying you towards the dimly lit entrance of the club. The bass thumped through the closed doors, a rhythmic pulse that vibrated in your chest.

Inside, the club was a sensory overload. The air was thick with the smell of perfume and sweat, the music was deafening, and the flashing lights created a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors. The space was packed with people, all moving to the beat of the music. You felt a wave of disorientation wash over you, a sudden longing for the wide-open spaces of Montana.

Leah, sensing your discomfort, placed a reassuring hand on your arm. “It’s a bit much at first,” she said, her voice barely audible above the music. “But you’ll get used to it.”

She led you and Mitch towards a quieter corner of the club, near the bar. The dim lighting cast long shadows, creating a sense of intimacy despite the crowded surroundings.

As you settled into a booth, a waitress approached, taking your drink orders. You opted for a simple beer, something familiar to hold onto in this unfamiliar environment.

The conversation flowed easily, fueled by the music and the celebratory atmosphere. You found yourself relaxing more and more, even managing to crack a few jokes that earned you genuine laughs from the group. You even found yourself dancing, albeit awkwardly, when a particularly catchy song came on. Leah, thankfully, was a patient and forgiving dance partner.

As the night wore on, the club grew even more crowded. People danced closer, the music grew louder, and the conversations became more animated. You found yourself drawn into the energy of the place, the collective euphoria of the crowd.

At one point, as you were talking to Leah about the differences between rodeos and football matches, she leaned in close, her breath warm against your ear. “You know,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, “I never thought I’d meet a real cowgirl."

You chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “And I never thought I’d find myself an England soccer player,” you replied, your eyes meeting hers.

The music pulsed, a rhythmic heartbeat that vibrated through the floor and into your very bones. The flashing lights painted the room in shifting hues of red, blue, and purple, creating an almost surreal atmosphere. You were surrounded by a sea of bodies, all moving to the same infectious beat. It was a far cry from the quiet nights on the ranch, the vast expanse of the Montana sky stretching overhead. But here, in this crowded, pulsating club, you felt a strange sense of belonging.

Leah’s hand was warm in yours, guiding you through the throng of dancers. She moved with a natural grace, her body swaying to the music with effortless rhythm. You, on the other hand, felt a little more… awkward. Your boots weren’t exactly designed for dancing on a crowded dance floor, and your usual two-step felt out of place amidst the more modern moves on display.

But Leah didn’t seem to mind. She laughed as you stumbled slightly, her hand tightening on yours, pulling you closer. “Just feel the music,” she shouted over the din, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Don’t think too much.”

You took her advice, letting the music wash over you, letting your body move instinctively. You loosened up, the tension in your shoulders easing as you started to find a rhythm of your own. Leah’s presence was a comforting anchor, her laughter and encouragement pushing you to let go of your inhibitions.

As the song reached its crescendo, Leah spun you around, her hand sliding down your arm to rest on your waist. You stumbled slightly, catching yourself on her shoulder. For a brief moment, you were close, your faces inches apart. You could feel her breath on your lips, the scent of her perfume filling your senses.

The world seemed to fade away, the music softening, the crowd blurring into a background hum. It was just you and Leah.

As the song reached its end, Leah leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear. “I’m glad you came,” she shouts, her voice barely audible above the music.

"I-I didn't think you would." she shouts again her grip on your waist tightening slightly pulling you impossibly closer, "I wouldn't miss this for anything" you shout back your hands resting on the back of her neck.

The world seems to disappear, the bass no longer thumps in your ears and the bodys that crash into you don't bother you anymore as your eyes flick between Leah's eyes and her lips.

You leaned in, drawn by an invisible force, your breath catching in your throat as leah rushes forward knocking your hat slightly.

Her lips were soft, warm, and hesitant at first, then they pressed a little firmer against yours. It was a brief kiss, a stolen moment in the chaos of the club, but it held a depth that surprised you.

When she pulled back, her eyes met yours, a mixture of nervousness and excitement shining in their depths. A faint blush dusted her cheeks, making her even more beautiful in the dim light. You felt your own face flush, a warmth spreading through your chest that had nothing to do with the heat of the club.

Her eyes don't leave yours as her hand reachs pulling the hat of your head and placing it on her own again. You smile unaware of leahs intentions "I'm wearing your hat." she shouts you laugh "I already told you you look good in it." Leah shakes her head "No I'm wearing your hat." You tilit your head in confusion before Leah pulls you into another kiss "Take me home Texas."

The request hung in the air, a potent invitation. You looked at Leah, really looked at her, and saw a vulnerability beneath the playful exterior, a genuine desire that mirrored your own. The initial shock of her boldness gave way to a surge of exhilaration. This wasn’t just a fleeting connection, a drunken kiss in a crowded club. This was something more.

“I’m from Montana,” you corrected gently, a smile playing on your lips.

Leah laughed, a bright, melodic sound that cut through the noise. “Details, details,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Just… take me home.”

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pallanophblargh · 1 year ago

Text

Well, I found all my old cover illustration originals. However… some of them faded dramatically while in storage. They were light to begin with (likely due to the tendinitis I was wrestling at the time) and the resulting scan… left a lot to be desired. The meager paper texture has started to compete with the lightest areas. I remember this one being a massive pain in the ass to scan and adjust the first time around.

So since I’m a Luddite, I’m manually darkening key areas. It needed doing anyway. You can see the whole left hand side of the piece is being darkened, while the head and forelegs and far wing are as pasty as I found them.

I guess it’s been good to see how much I have improved over the years at the very least.

Someday there will be prints, I’m still going to make that work out.

#work in progress #illustration #fantasy art #book cover #crosshatching #traditional media #equine #winged horse #Pegasus #green rider series #why do I make my job harder by drawing so light?#feel free to make fun of me #even though it’s not nice to make fun of fossils

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smilesrobotlover · 9 months ago

Text

The sun felt warm as it shone against Talon’s skin, making his eyes grow heavy as he and his carriage slowly moved across Hyrule field. He had just sold some Lon Lon milk in Castle town, and left early in the morning so he could get home as soon as possible. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t a morning person, so he was doing everything in his power to stay awake. The last thing he needed was to fall asleep and get robbed by bandits.

The field was quiet and peaceful, the world not yet awakening from the sun barely peeking over the horizon. The gentle clip-clop of his horse’s hooves against the ground was soothing, and Talon began to feel too relaxed, finally giving in to his desires of dozing off.

A distressed whinny caused him to jolt awake. He looked around, expecting to be attacked by bandits or monsters, but all he saw was a small horse running to him, whinnying frantically at Talon.

“Oh my, where’d you come from, little one?” He wondered out loud, stopping his carriage and hopping off. The horse was noticeably young, with a beautiful chestnut coat and cream colored hair. It was a mare from what Talon could see, and looking at her coat, she seemed awfully familiar to him. She stomped up to Talon and gently bit his hand, attempting to drag him.

“Woah woah woah!” Talon pulled back, giving the horse a weird look. “What do ya think you’re doin’ little one?”

The horse whinnied again and started to shuffle to an area, clearly trying to get Talon to follow. Talon didn’t have much choice but to follow; a horse only acted like this when something was wrong.

“Where’s your rider?” He muttered, following the horse reluctantly. He didn’t know what he was being led to specifically, but seeing the size of the filly with a saddle of all things made him worried for a young rider, possibly injured somewhere. Seeing that Talon was finally following her, the filly started to trot towards a cluster of trees, stopping at a patch of bushes where she began to stomp around, impatiently nibbling and nudging the leaves on the bushes. Talon let out a sigh when he reached the spot, looking around to see if anything was out of the ordinary, but there was nothing. Was this filly just lost and was panicking, hoping to get help? Talon had to admit she seemed to be a smart horse, but he didn’t understand why he was led to a patch of bushes.

“Are you lost, little one?” He asked, watching as the young mare nibbled on the bushes. She nudged the leaves away with her snout while snorting, and Talon was able to catch a glimpse of blonde hair. He gasped and got on his knees, moving the bushes out of the way to reveal a young, blonde-haired boy with green clothes that blended in with the plants surrounding him. He looked to be about the same age as his daughter Malon, barely eleven, and his face was pale and covered in sweat. He wheezed as he breathed and he had a pained expression on his face, and Talon lightly touched his head to feel a burning fever. He frowned and began to shake him gently, seeing if he would wake up. The boy groaned and reacted to his touch, his eyes fluttering open. They landed on Talon immediately and several emotions flickered through his face.

“M-Mr– Bart—ten…” He choked out, his eyes tearing up as he stared at Talon. The farmer blinked for a moment, confused about what he was saying, but he let out a sigh and went to gather the boy in his arms. The poor thing was clearly delirious, and he needed medical attention.

“It’s ok, kiddo, I’ll take care of you,” he assured. The boy felt fragile in his strong arms, and he whimpered in pain as his head rested against Talon’s chest. The farmer wasted no time finding a spot for the boy in his carriage, having to move some empty bottles out of the way and laying strands of hay to add a cushion for him. He gently laid him down, finding a quilt tucked away in the corner of the carriage and swaddled him the best he could. It didn’t look comfy, but it was better than nothing. He tucked the empty bottles away to make sure they didn’t fall on him, and he grabbed a spare rope to tie to the back.

“I hope you don’t mind this, I have a feeling that boy is your rider,” Talon explained, tying the rope to the filly. The young mare surprisingly seemed willing to be tied to the carriage, and waited patiently as Talon hopped on his carriage, resuming his journey with more haste. He tried to keep a steady pace so the carriage wouldn’t jostle, and so that the mare wouldn’t be dragged behind, but he knew he needed to move fast if he wanted to get back to the ranch. He fortunately had medicine stocked up at home, knowing that if he, Malon, or Ingo got sick, he wouldn’t have time to go back and forth getting more, so the boy should be fine when they got there. He just hoped it wouldn’t turn into anything serious—Talon was knowledgeable on illnesses and injuries, but he was no doctor.

The sun was beginning to set when Talon arrived at Lon Lon, and he hopped off the carriage in front of his house, untying the mare and collecting the feverish boy in his arms.

“Daddy!”

Talon glanced up to see his little girl running towards him, an excited smile on her face. Talon smiled back and shifted the boy in his arms slightly.

“You’re back! Did ya get me anything?”

“Why yes, I did,” Talon said, pulling the boy out of the carriage and showing Malon. “I got you a new friend, but he’s a little sick right now.”

Malon’s eyes went big and she stepped forward, gently patting the boy’s arm. “Fairy boy! It’s Fairy boy! Don’t you remember him daddy?”

Talon looked down at the boy again. He was so distracted on getting him into his carriage, he didn’t recognize him as the young boy that visited Lon Lon Ranch over a year ago. Memories of him and Malon playing music at the ranch flooded in, and Talon only felt more inclined to take care of him. The situation became more personal.

“Epona!” Malon squealed, giggling at the filly who trotted towards her excitedly. Talon stared at the two’s reunion, Epona nuzzling Malon’s chest while she sang her favorite song. He smiled warmly at them and quickly headed inside, not wanting to wait much longer. So this boy and that horse used to be here in Lon Lon? Goddesses, it had been a while since Talon’s seen him, and yet it felt like it was only yesterday. Though the fairy boy was in their lives for such a short time, he left an impact on the ranch, specifically with Malon. He was the first kid her age that she’s met and played with, and Malon talked her father’s ear off about him since he went away with Epona in tow. Talon began to grow curious about where he was all this time, and why he was hidden in bushes with a burning fever.

The farmer walked up the stairs that led to his room and he set the sick boy gently on the soft mattress. He stared at him for a moment, his brow furrowed, trying to remember anything else about the little one, but nothing came up, so he turned around to get medicine, water, and a damp cloth. The folks at Lon Lon didn’t get sick often, so he hoped he remembered enough about taking care of a fever. When he went back upstairs to his room, he heard the boy whimpering, shifting in the soft bed. Talon quickly took off his shoes to make him more comfortable and rested his hand on his head. The fever was concerningly strong.

“Excuse me,” Talon said softly, gently shaking the boy. He groaned and his eyes fluttered open again, staring over Talon’s shoulder. He squinted his eyes and frowned.

“Romani? … How…?”

Talon raised an eyebrow and looked behind him, flinching when his daughter suddenly appeared.

“Goddesses, Malon, don’t sneak up on me like that!” He scolded. Malon gave an apologetic look, her dimples appearing as she smiled slightly.

“Sorry, daddy. I just wanted to see Link! It’s been a while!”

Malon leaned over the fairy boy (or Link, Talon supposed), brushing his hair away from his face. Link looked horrified as he watched Malon, clearly looking uncomfortable.

“Malon, sweetie, let’s give him some space,” Talon spoke up, noting Link’s strange expressions. “I oughta give him some medicine anyhow.”

Malon hopped back and gave her father an excited look. “Can I help?”

“Oh! Well…” Talon glanced at the bowl of water and the cloth. “You can help wipe his face when I’m done givin’ him medicine, ok?”

Malon nodded excitedly, watching as Talon helped Link sit up. The boy was so weak that he could barely move on his own, and Talon eventually pulled him into his lap so he could lean against him. Talon gripped Link’s arm firmly so he could stay in place and began rummaging his hand all over the nightstand to grab the medicine. His daughter noticed his searching and grabbed the medicine for him and Talon gave her a grateful nod, uncorking the bottle and bringing it to Link’s lips.

“You think you can drink this?” He asked, and Link nodded, clumsily grabbing at the bottle and drinking it with Talon’s help. Talon had to pull it back a couple of times to make sure it didn’t spill everywhere, but Link was surprisingly cooperative for an eleven-year-old drinking the disgusting medicine; he remembered he always had to fight Malon whenever she needed it. The bottle was soon gone, and Link leaned back against Talon’s chest, his eyes closed. The farmer cradled him for a moment, figuring that Link needed that type of comfort, and Malon walked over as she watched him with her father, her head tilted with fascination.

“Is he gonna be ok?” Malon asked, and Talon looked up at her, nodding confidently.

“I’m sure he will be,” he said, carefully moving Link so he could get off the bed. He laid him down and pulled the blankets over him, giving his hair a soft ruffle before pulling away.

“I’m gonna put the carriage away, Malon. You keep an eye on him, ok?” Talon said, and his daughter nodded back at him. Talon lingered for a moment, worriedly watching them, but finally left the room. Ingo was outside staring at the carriage annoyed, but he quickly scurried away when Talon showed up. The farmer glanced over at Epona, who was watching him silently. Talon frowned and walked over to her, giving her a gentle pat on the snout.

“That boy doesn’t have a family, does he?” He asked, knowing that Epona wouldn’t answer. It was something Talon noticed when Link first arrived. Though he didn’t remember much, he did remember that Link was by himself whenever he saw him. The only company he had was his fairy. Talon shouldn’t be too surprised—if Link really was a Kokiri, then it’d make sense why he’d have no family. But Kokiris died when they left the woods, didn’t they? Or was Link finally experiencing the death a Kokiri had when they were out of the woods? Talon rubbed his eyes with a soft grumble. He really didn’t know if any of that was true, but it made Talon slightly worried. Despite remembering that Link was from the lost woods, Talon couldn’t help but feel that he was a Hylian. Everything down to his mannerisms made him seem far more mature than the Kokiri ever were. They remained as children, their bodies and mentalities never changing, even for centuries. But Link…. His face held a mature understanding of the world that Talon only saw in adults. Either way, Talon couldn’t risk him dying. If he needed to return to the woods, he would take him there, he just needed to learn more about him.

Talon led Epona and his carriage to the barn, letting her and the horses roam with the others before returning to the house with warm Lon Lon milk. He was expecting Link to be sound asleep, but to his surprise, he was already trying to get out of bed despite Malon’s protests.

“Link, honestly! You can’t be gettin’ up now! You could barely drink the medicine my daddy gave to you!” She shouted, trying to shove him back to bed.

“I… I’ll be fine,” he mumbled, his voice raspy and hoarse. He brushed Malon off and reached for his shoes, but grew out of breath.

“Link! You’re sick! Lay back down!”

“I can’t stay…”

Talon entered the room with haste, setting the bottle of milk down as he walked up to Link. The boy stared up at him, his light blue eyes wide with guilt.

“Do you need to go to the woods?” Talon asked him, and Link frowned.

“What?”

“The woods? The lost woods? Where all them youngins are in?”

“O-oh, Kokiri forest?”

“Yeah, that. I hear Kokiri die when they’re away from the forest for too long. You… you’re a Kokiri, right?”

A devastated look took over Link’s exhausted face, his eyes spacing out as he looked down. “No…”

Talon frowned at his reaction, and he glanced over at Malon who looked concerned.

“No?”

“I-I’m not going to the woods… I’m not a Kokiri… I don’t belong there anymore. I don’t–I don’t belong anywhere,” Link’s voice grew so quiet that Talon almost didn’t catch what he said at the end. It was quiet in the room, and Link slowly went to grab his shoes, but Talon stopped him.

“What’s the rush then?”

“I… can’t stay….”

“Why not?”

“Because I…. I…” Link stammered, trying to push out a good argument, but with his feverish mind and exhausted body, he couldn’t. Talon sighed and gently pushed him back, and Link obliged, laying down on the pillow, his eyes half closed.

“At least get some rest before you decide to travel, ok?”

Link’s eyes went wide for a second, before closing, and he was finally asleep. Talon sighed and gave his head a pat, giving a proud smile to Malon.

“You handled that well, dear.”

Malon brushed some hair out of her eyes and sighed. “Thanks daddy. He sure is a stubborn one, ain’t he?”

Talon shrugged and stared at the young boy. So he wasn’t a Kokiri, that meant he wasn’t dying, thank the goddesses. But everything else about Link confused him. If he seemingly didn’t belong to the Kokiri anymore, then where did he call home? Did he even have a home? Talon sighed and began to head out of the room.

“I trust you’ll keep a good eye on him?”

Malon nodded. “I won’t let him try to get up next time.”

Talon snorted. “Try not to hurt him too much. You got some Gerudo blood in you, while he’s a simple Hylian,” Talon glanced at Link, “I think. Give him that milk when he wakes up.”

Malon nodded again and plopped herself in a chair, staring at the strange boy in bed. Talon smiled at her, leaving the room once again, feeling exhausted himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Link’s fever was persistent. Talon spent a long time with him to see if he was getting better, but he was not. He wasn’t getting worse though, which Talon supposed was better than nothing. Link stayed in bed most of the time, unable to get out due to the fever and to Malon forcing him to rest. Talon always had to make sure she was gentle with him. He knew she had such a gentle and kind soul, but her Gerudo strength, despite having only a little bit of it, was not to be underestimated. Malon stayed by Link’s side the entire time, only leaving when she had chores to do. She would talk the boy’s ear off when she was with him; talking to him about her chores, her favorite animals, and the songs she wrote. She would occasionally sing to him, and he would always listen. Talon couldn’t tell if he wanted to listen, but considering the small smile on his lips whenever his daughter spoke to him, he assumed that he enjoyed the company. Many times, Talon decided to do Malon’s chores for her so she could spend time with her friend, and eventually, Link started to feel better.

Talon allowed him to walk around the ranch, knowing that being in the same room for days couldn’t feel good for anyone, and Link happily obliged. He always seemed anxious, as if there was something he had to be doing, so being able to at least walk around made him a little more cheery than normal. But as soon as he was able to walk around, he once again tried to leave.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” Talon asked when he caught Link packing up his things, trying to talk him out of it before he was gone. Link didn’t say anything for a moment, a guilty look on his face.

“I–I need to be elsewhere,” he finally said, finishing packing up his few items scattered across the room.

“Already? I know you’re feelin’ better, and exercise is good for you, but you can’t push yourself.”

Link let out a huff. “I’ll be fine. This fever will go away in due time.”

“Yeah, if you take care of yourself,” Talon argued, and Link shot a glare at him.

“Why do you care?” He suddenly snapped. Talon’s eyes widened at the boy’s sudden hostility. He scratched the back of his head and looked away.

“Is it so wrong for me to care about a sick kid?”

Link’s expression softened and he turned away. “How much do you remember?” He asked softly.

“Huh?”

“How much–how much do you remember of me?”

Talon was taken aback at the strange question. Though he’s only seen Link a couple of times last year, he remembered them pretty well now that he spent more time with the kid.

“I remember you woke me up with a cuccoo and told me my daughter was waitin’ for me. Good thing too ‘cause I didn’t mean to fall asleep at the castle of all places. Poor Malon.” Link stayed still as stone so Talon continued, “I remember you came by our ranch and found my special cuccoo. I teased you about marryin’ my daughter and you got all shy ‘bout it.” Talon chuckled at the memory. Link looked away with an embarrassed look on his face so Talon moved onto the next memory. “I remember you and Malon played all day, and played music as loud as you two could. It sorta annoyed me when I was tryin’ to sleep but I ain’t never seen Malon sing with all her heart like that before. So I let it continue.” Talon sighed and racked everything he remembered about Link, but only one more memory remained. “And then I remember you buyin’ Epona. It broke Malon’s heart to part with that horse but she cared about you and knew you would take great care of her. And that’s about all I remember of you.”

Link continued to face away from Talon, staring blankly at the wall. Talon frowned and walked up to him.

“Why are you askin’ this?”

Link sighed and hugged himself. “You just don’t know me like you used to.”

Talon was taken aback again. “Now what in Farore’s name do you mean by that?”

Link opened his mouth but was interrupted by Malon entering the room. She spotted Link’s packed up possessions and frowned.

“You’re leaving already?” She asked as he quickly finished gathering his things. “Are you sure you feel well enough for it?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said softly, looking up at Talon with another guilty expression. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

Talon tilted his head. “You didn’t overstay nothin’ boy. It was my pleasure to have you here.”

Link smiled slightly, but he quickly turned away, a sad and distant look in his eye. Talon stroked his chin and squinted at him.

“Where do you call home?”

Link glanced at Talon, then at the floor. “I—um…”

“Do you… have a home?”

Link didn’t react, and he shifted uncomfortably. Talon sighed.

“Oh… Link, if you have nowhere else to go, you can always stay here—“

“No! I-I mean,” Link shrunk away, clutching onto his shirt. “You-you guys have been very kind but I–I don’t want to be a bother anymore.”

“You were anything but a bother! We loved havin’ you here!” Talon reassured, but Link didn’t look convinced

“I-I can’t stay here for free… I—I don’t—“ Link whimpered slightly, pressing himself further against the wall. Talon backed up slightly, realizing he was being too forceful with the boy. He took a deep breath and tried again.

“Ok, if you don’t wanna stay for free, then you don’t have to,” he said softly.

Link finally looked at him, a sad look on his face. “I don’t have any rupees though.”

“Who said anythin’ about money! How old are ya? Eleven? I can't expect an eleven-year-old to be able to pay rent!”

Link stared at him confused. “Then how…?”

“Well, I can always have ya work around the farm, do whatever chores you’re capable of doin’, in return you get a place to stay and food to eat.”

Link stared for a moment, the gears in his mind turning as he thought about Talon’s offer.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Sorry to put pressure on you,” Talon quickly added, realizing he was still being forceful. “But if you want, we’d love to have you.”

Link was silent for a long time, swaying slightly as Talon and Malon watched him. He finally let out a sigh and looked up at Talon.

“Can I…. Think about it?”

Talon was relieved slightly and nodded. “Of course you can, just know that wherever you go, you’ll always have a place to stay in Lon Lon Ranch.”

Link gave a more genuine smile at him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Talon escorted Link to the entrance with Malon in tow, the two Lon’s chatting about mundane things with Link listening silently. When they reached the entrance, Talon turned to his daughter and nodded.

“Malon, could you get his horse for him?”

“Of course, daddy!”

Talon watched as his daughter ran to where the horses were, then he glanced at Link who still had an unsure look on his face.

“Link?”

Link pursed his lips. “I… I wish there was a way I could repay you for this…”

“Oh, it was on the house,” Talon said, waving his hand. “It’s the least I could do for you.”

Link smiled, his hands clumped up on his chest. “You don’t know how much this means to me… I… thank you…”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. And my offer will always be here for you, or… if you ever wanna visit,” Talon shrugged, “you’re free to visit as well if you don’t wanna stay.”

Link’s face twisted slightly, and he shyly leaned into Talon, which surprised him. He was always so distant from the others, but he was almost hugging the old farmer. Talon wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back gently, only pulling away when Malon returned with Epona. Link quickly hopped on the horse, discreetly wiped his eye, and he gave the two a nod.

“I guess I’ll… see you around?” He said, and Talon nodded.

“Of course, you be safe out there boy!” Talon said, waving him goodbye.

“Yeah! Come visit! I want to sing with you again!” Malon exclaimed, waving enthusiastically at him. Link grinned at her and nodded at the two. Then he clicked his tongue and ran off on his horse, heading to Din knows where. Talon watched sadly as he disappeared into the field, almost wishing there was more he could do for him. It was strange how much the boy had changed since he first met him. Link was a very playful and hyper boy when they first met him, matching Malon’s hyper energy. But now, he was jaded and serious, almost as if he was an adult trapped in a child’s body. Talon didn’t want to think about what he went through in the past year to get to that point, but he hoped that now Link knew that he didn’t have to face any of it alone, and that he had people to turn to.

He just had to wait for him to reach out.

#ocarina of time #I’ve been wanting to write this fic or ever and it’s just been chillin so I might as well share it now #how Time ended up in Lon Lon #thank you again Bearie for beta reading this #you’re a real homie #I hate that drawing I made but maybe it’s not that bad #talon seems like the kind of man where he’s so strong that you feel safe #I love him sm #Malon too she’s a doll #and Link augh….#legend of Zelda #smiles writes #talon

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training4theapocalypse · 9 months ago

Text

A Royal Misunderstanding (Prince Friedrich x f!Reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 7k

Warnings / Tags: SMUT, virgin Prince Friedrich and experienced(ish) reader, kinda switchy Prince F, unprotected sex (for the plot).

Summary: He's looking for the future Princess Consort. You're looking for a life out of the spotlight. It'd never work.

A/N: K and an E and a T and a T, E and an R and an ING. T and an O and a W, N. Kettering Town. F.C. Also thank you to my regency queens @stealsteels and @shinytalent for reading this 👑

Masterlist

There’s an unnecessary knock on the open stable door as you move to untack your mare. She needs a thorough brush after the ride you had today.

“You are the stable hand?” inquires a young man’s voice.

You whirl around, ready to deliver a sharp retort, but hesitate when you see his earnest, slightly incredulous expression. You’ve never encountered him before, you’re sure of it. His handsome face, tuft of blonde hair and wide-eyed demeanour would certainly have been memorable.

“I was told I would be meeting the stable hand here,” he continues, still uncertain. “To collect a horse.”

An accent. Foreign. He must be part of Prince Friedrich’s contingent, newly arrived from the Kingdom of Prussia this morning. And he must be exceedingly green to mistake you for a stable hand. Despite your riding breeches being muddied from your ride, any discerning footman would recognise that the fine tailoring is not typical of a servant's attire. Even one in the employ of the Crown. His own attire, however, is old-fashioned and ill-fitting - it bears all the marks of a hand-me-down from another household servant or perhaps an older family member.

You purse your lips to stifle a smile. The opportunity to toy with one of the charmingly naive lackeys from the Prussian delegation sparks your mischievous side. Besides, he’ll need to toughen up if he’s to survive in London. “Don’t they permit women to become stable hands in Prussia?”

He blinks. “No.”

“And this horse is for Prince Friedrich?”

“Yes.” He raises his eyebrows, as though it should be self-evident why he’s here. As if everyone should recognise Prince Friedrich’s footman. The man pulls his shoulder back and there’s a subtle hint of authority in his stance. You’re unsure if it’s the language barrier or his presumption, but his curt answers irk you.

“Very well, then,” you say, gently guiding your horse towards him. “This is Artemis. She’s the finest in the stable.”

“This is your finest horse?” He chuckles heartily and your mouth becomes a thin line and your nostrils flare.

“Perhaps His Royal Highness would prefer a pony?”

He straightens, a haughty glint in his eye. “It’s covered in filth.”

“My lady is a keen rider and has already been out this morning. But if Prince Freidrich can’t handle a little dirt -”

“Of course, I can manage.”

You arch an eyebrow, his tone further irritating you. “If you say so,” you reply, handing him the reins.

As he mounts Artemis, you can’t help but decide to give him a parting gift. You give her a firm slap on her hindquarters. Artemis bolts forward, sending the young man bouncing precariously in the saddle. You watch with satisfaction as he disappears down the path, his shouts of alarm fading into the distance.

Perhaps now he’ll think twice before assuming someone is a servant.

With a contented smile, you leave the stables, already brimming with excitement at the thought of telling your ladies-in-waiting about your encounter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As far as you’re concerned, there isn’t enough wide open space in London. Far too many locked doors and whispered secrets. Or worse. Written down secrets. Specifically, the sort published by Lady Whistledown. You’d much rather be at home than endure another visit to the capital but when Queen Charlotte invited you to stay at her residence for the duration of the social season, you could hardly refuse. Not when Her Majesty and your late father, the Duke of Kettering, were such dear friends.

You suspect this invitation to spend the season at the palace might be the Queen’s ultimate attempt to honour your father’s memory. It was expected that you’d be desperate to find a husband after he passed. On paper, it should have been simple enough - your inheritance is decent enough to tempt a husband.

But finding a suitor hasn’t been easy. You’re not asking for much. You don’t want titles or wealth. Just a husband who’d be content to let you spend the day out riding rather than attending social engagements. Events like this one are your idea of hell on earth. Although it wasn’t as bad as yesterday when you had to present yourself to the Queen as one of the eligible misses of the season.

As you stepped into the centre of the room, your palms turned cold and you could feel your stomach turning inside out as you waited for the Queen to give her verdict. There’s an old saying: the brighter a lady shines, the faster she may burn. And you’d rather not find yourself turned to ash at the hands of the ton.

You exhaled an audible sigh of relief when Her Majesty remained seated and deigned to give you a small nod of approval. Neither the diamond nor the disgrace of the season and you’re glad of it - it means fewer eyes on you. But even that short burst in the relatively dim limelight made you want to flee from the room and vomit. You put yourself through your paces in the saddle this morning just to shake off the lingering feeling of dread.

You should be grateful that the Queen did not wave you away dismissively. This is your second social season after all and your value is quickly plummeting. You just need a husband who is content to stay out of the spotlight. And is resigned to the fact that you’ll probably prefer your horse’s company to theirs.

If only you really were a stable hand instead of the late Duke of Kettering’s daughter.

As you mingle in Queen Charlotte’s banquet hall amongst other guests, waiting upon the arrival of Prince Freidrich, you feel a twinge of guilt about your encounter with his footman this morning. Perhaps after this welcome dinner, you’ll discreetly invite him to meet you in the stables as a gesture of apology.

The footman was handsome, after all, despite the blonde whiskers he must have grown in an attempt to appear more mature. You wouldn’t mind ruffling his perfectly coiffed hair before letting him bend you over the stable door.

Your companion jolts you from your daydream by squeezing your arm with her silk glove excitedly. You turn and smooth the front of your gown as Queen Charlotte and her nephew Prince Friedrich’s arrival is announced.

The doors open and it takes every ounce of your self-control to maintain a dignified composure as Queen Charlotte walks in, arm-in-arm with Prince Friedrich’s footman.

Or the man who you thought was Prince Friedrich’s footman.

Damn.

Of course, you sent Prince Friedrich himself chasing across the palace grounds on the back of your startled mare.

While your face retains a dignified composure, you can’t do anything about the prickle of embarrassment flushing your chest. It’s only a matter of time before the Queen introduces Prince Freidrich to you and you will need to eat copious amounts of humble pie, slathered with grovelling apologies and dusted off with begging for forgiveness.

There’s no avoiding it. Even though tonight’s dinner isn’t an official event of the season - just a small dinner for the fifty or so palace guests and members of the Royal Family, Prince Friedrich is still introduced to every eligible woman in the room. Including you.

Queen Charlotte, eventually steers him towards you. “Allow me to present my nephew, Prince Friedrich of Prussia.”

You curtsy and allow him to greet your gloved hand with a kiss but your stomach twists in anticipation, waiting for him to admonish you in front of the Queen.

“Lady Kettering, your gown - it is exquisite,” he says, in the usual formality. “And I hope your ride this morning was more pleasant than mine.”

You take a breath to compose your apology but you’re saved from the necessity.

“Yes, the Prince had a simply awful time this morning. First, his footman forgets to pack his riding wear so he has to borrow some from the Viscount of Paisley. And then a common girl posing as a stable hand gave Prince Friedrich your horse and sent him galloping across the plain.”

“I see,” you say cautiously but the corners of Prince Freidrich’s mouth twitch like he’s trying not to laugh. You ask, “And is my horse alright?”

Queen Charlotte laughs at this. “I should have known that you would be more concerned about your mount than the Prince of Prussia.”

You smile. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. It’s only that I’m confident a duplicitous stable girl was no match for His Royal Highness.”

“Your mare was returned safely,” smiles Prince Friedrich, a roguish glint in his eye.

Prince Friedrich bows and Queen Charlotte bustles him away onto the next group of eager girls.

As you watch him greet the next group you wonder: why is the Prince of Prussia making excuses for you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the grand dining room, you search for your place setting at the far end of the table beside the other noble families from minor houses to no avail. They’ve missed me, you think in horror as you look around at the filled seats but one of your friends nudges you and nods at the empty seat next to Prince Friedrich.

There must be some mistake.

But when you glance at the Prince, still standing behind his chair expectantly at the middle of the table, he catches your eye and places a hand on the empty seat.

Barely daring to breathe, you wonder if this is his way of getting back at you for the events of this morning. Perhaps he arranged for your table setting to go missing and you’ll be publicly humiliated when you dare to assume the seat next to him would be for you.

You walk for what feels like a very long time to the other side of the table, feeling eyes on you as every step is like your shoes are made of lead. You do your best not to clench your fists as your face grows hot in anticipation of being embarrassed in front of everyone.

Dipping your head, you refuse to look at Prince Friedrich and instead discreetly look at the place cards as you pass. The titles become increasingly grand as you approach the centre of the table until you reach the grandest of them all.

Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte.

His Royal Highness, Prince Friedrich.

Then you see your name. Etched in gold on eggshell paper. At the place setting beside Prince Friedrich’s.

You blink, feeling relief course through you. You’ve never sat this close to the Queen before. The centre of the table was reserved for distinguished guests like, well, Prince Friedrich.

“Lady Kettering, I hope you don’t mind me stealing you away from your usual dinner companions,” says Prince Friedrich, looking at your friends staring wide-eyed at you from the other end of the table.

“It’s my pleasure, Your Highness,” you say, giving them a sharp look. As the servers remove the cloches from the banquet before you, conversation erupts around the table, giving you the chance to swallow your pride. “And I do apologise for this morning,” you add quietly. “I had mistakenly assumed you were Prince Friedrich’s footman.”

“A footman?” He grins, and tilts his head, picturing himself as a footman before adding. “I too would like to apologise. I should never have assumed a beautiful woman such as yourself was a stable hand,” he says.

“When did you come to the realisation that I wasn’t?”

“I knew your horse’s name. When I asked who owned her, I was told it was a lady who was as wild as the horses she keeps.” Your mouth twists into a reluctant smile. “Is that true?” he asks, his green eyes twinkling with interest.

“Oh no,” you smile, sipping your freshly poured wine, aware of his eyes following your every movement. “My horses are very well-behaved.”

He laughs. It’s a pretty laugh. “Can I assume that means you are looking forward to the season beginning?” He gives you a wry smile. His eyes are alight with enthusiasm as he waits for you to share in his excitement for the beginning of the social season. But there’s something else in his gaze, something more intimate.

You must put an end to this before he gets the wrong idea and you’re made a spectacle of. Prince Friedrich will be the most sought-after man of the season and you don’t want the attention that accompanies competing for his affections - to be thrust into the spotlight and have Lady Whistledown write about you would be more attention than you could bear.

You glance around to see if anyone is listening before lowering your voice. “Your Highness - may I speak candidly?”

“Nothing would please me more,” he says sincerely, his tone softening.

“Why did you arrange for me to sit here?”

Prince Friedrich looks taken aback. “Well… after this morning, I knew I had to find out more about you.”

You nod sadly. This is what you were afraid of but you had expected it nonetheless.

“This is my second - and hopefully last - season. You see, I’m not used to being in the public eye and I find the social season to be entirely mortifying.”

“I see…” says Prince Friedrich slowly.

“You Highness, please don’t mistake me. I’m honoured to be in your presence but -”

“Lady Kettering -” Prince Friedrich lowers his voice. “You told me you would speak candidly. Please disperse with the airs and graces.”

You push your food around on your plate. It’s risky to speak so plainly to aristocracy. Their fragile egos normally demand a guarded formality. “I am sorry but the idea of competing with other women to become the Princess Consort of Prussia is more publicity than I can handle. I need to find a husband quickly. A marriage of convenience.”

“Convenience…” He nods thoughtfully. “I understand. A marriage to me would certainly draw attention.”

He’s not offended. Thank god. “Exactly, Your Highness. Being in the public eye. The scrutiny. It would be unbearable.”

“It is a pity,” he says quietly. “Because I’m sure a mutually convenient marriage would have its benefits.”

Mutually convenient? Your own inheritance pales in comparison to the riches that Prince Friedrich is heir to. What would he gain from marrying you?

You look up from your plate to see that he’s brazenly smirking at you.

Oh.

It’s undeniable this time. He’s flirting with you. You feel heat creeping up your neck and you know you must look feverish when his eyes roam across your corseted chest.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Your Highness,” you say, your whisper barely audible.

“I mean that sharing a marital bed would have its… advantages.” Prince Friedrich takes a sip of his wine, seemingly pleased that he’s made you flustered. Now, you can’t have that.

You glance over his shoulder to make sure Queen Charlotte is occupied. “I don’t need a husband to reap those sorts of advantages.”

When you say that, he slops half of his wine down his front in surprise. “You - you don’t?”

You arch an eyebrow. “You don’t have other companions for that sort of thing?” You pass him your napkin so he can clean himself up, your fingers grazing his knee under the table, making him inhale a sharp intake of breath. “You’re not worried about being unable to please your new wife?”

He stares straight ahead, momentarily stunned. Like he never realised sex was something you could be bad at. After a beat, he shakes his head. “It would not be prudent if people knew I was having - ”

“You mistake me. It is not my intention to get caught.”

Prince Friedrich sighs, a sad smile playing on his lips. “If only it were that simple. I’m surrounded by people. Always.”

The two of you sit quietly, allowing the servants to replace your empty plates with dessert. You can practically hear the cogs in the Prince’s head as his brain works overtime, trying to decide how to respond to this new information. Prince Friedrich takes a polite bite of chocolate cake and sits back.

“Once again, being the Queen’s nephew complicates things,” you say, sitting forward and sliding your fork through a sizable portion. “Don’t you have an appetite after your ride this morning, Your Highness?”

“I think the news that you do not wish me to court you has disappointed me so much that I never want to eat again,” he jokes half-heartedly before returning his focus entirely to you.

“If only we really were a stable hand and a footman - waiting until all the palace guests had gone to bed to meet in the stables after dark,” you say after eating the last bite of cake on your plate.

Prince Friedrich swallows thickly and your eyes move from his Adam's apple to the almost untouched piece of cake on his plate.

“Are you - are you still hungry, my lady?” he asks.

You lean forward and steal a scoop of whipped cream from his plate with your fork. You eat the whipped cream and he watches with bated breath as you take several seconds longer than necessary to drag the polished silver fork from between your lips.

"I'm insatiable, Your Highness."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You scratch Artemis’s head in the dark stables, wondering if you’ve made a mistake in being here. Mostly you were interested to see if the sweet, naive Prince Friedrich would turn up. But you know how noblemen are. Their egos are so easy to bruise that an adverturess could scare them off simply by existing.

Which is why you can scarcely believe it when there’s a knock at the closed stable door. You don’t breathe for a second before remembering that only Prince Freidrich would knock before entering a stable of all places.

He opens the door and for a moment is visibly relieved to see you. You stare at each other. The only sound is the soft rustling of the horses, that is until he closes the door behind him and moves to you with an agility that surprises you, considering how unstable he was on your horse earlier.

If he had no appetite earlier, it has certainly returned now. Prince Friedrich has a hungry look in his eyes as he pulls you close by the waist and kisses you. You squeeze your eyes shut, expecting a clash of teeth but his kiss is passionate, even skilled. Your shoulders untense as you relax into it and slide your arms around his neck, allowing him to pull your body against his. Even through the many skirts under your evening gown, you can feel that he’s hard.

His tongue enters your mouth, licking and swirling it against yours - it’s surprisingly good. And he smells good. A beautiful sandalwood cologne that can only be from the finest perfumery.

You pull back breathlessly before you can allow the inebriating scent and feel of him to rid you of your senses. “Prince Friedrich, I -”

“Please, just Freidrich.”

“Friedrich.” Even with his permission the name feels strange in your mouth. “How much romantic experience do you have?”

“I’ve read books,” he says quickly and you press your lips together to stop laughing.

“You mean romance books? Like Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron?”

“No, I mean… instructional.”

“Instructions on how to fuck?” He nods and flushes a deep shade of pink at the question and this time you can’t help but laugh. “Remind me to spend time in the palace library in Prussia if I ever visit.” You study him. “I meant more… practical experience. It’s not the type of thing you can learn from a book.”

“I have a little experience.”

“Like what? Just kissing?” He hesitates and you move your hand down between your bodies and brush his hard cock through his trousers. “Or has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

Friedrich swallows. “Before now, you mean?” You nod and he hesitates again, guessing that it’s not the answer you want to hear. “No,” he says, truthfully.

You withdraw your hand. “Maybe this is something you should save for your future wife.”

“Marry me, then,” he blurts out, his voice trembling slightly with urgency.

You groan inwardly, shaking your head. “Friedrich, I wasn’t being coy when I told you I don’t want to be wed to a Prince. Besides, the season is starting tomorrow and you’ll be introduced to a hundred wealthy, beautiful women. Each one of them would be a better match than I.”

“Impossible.”

“You don’t know that -”

“I know that nobody has ever spoken to me the way that you did tonight. Or this morning for that matter.”

You smile despite yourself. You can believe it. If you were trying to secure the Prince’s hand in marriage, you would have carried yourself with much more grace and dignity than you have thus far.

“That’s because I have the manners of a common mule and the propriety of a common whore,” your grin falters and you look at him seriously. “And both of those qualities make me thoroughly incompatible with the Prince of Prussia. Marrying you is out of the question.”

“I understand,” he says, clearly worried that you’re reconsidering lying with him. “Let me be one of your companions. Show me how to do it.”

“Will you promise not to ask for my hand in marriage when this is done?”

Your hands undo the lacing on his trousers as he hitches his breath. “Anything. Sh-show me. Please.”

You remove your gloves and toss them on the stable floor. You slide your bare hand into his underwear and feel him shudder when you grip his cock. Christ almighty. It’s bigger than what you had expected from the innocent Prince.

“Since we’re practising so that you can please your future wife,” you tell him as you jerk your hand along his length. “I’ll tell you what feels good and what doesn’t. And you must do the same.”

He exhales shakily. “This - this feels good.”

“That’s a good start,” you smirk. “And you have a nice cock, Your Highness. The Princess Consort of Prussia will be a very lucky woman indeed once I’ve shown you how to use it.”

“Oha,” he breathes.

“So eager,” you tut playfully, your face inches from his.

You pull him close and he moans into your mouth as you kiss him. The sound of his evident pleasure sends heat tearing through you. You make a mental note to tell your future lovers to share their vocal appreciation because the sounds Prince Friedrich is making are driving you wild.

As you kiss him, you lead him over to the loose pile of straw and get to the floor. The straw is scratchy on your bare arms but your legs are thankfully spared by the protection of your skirts.

“When the time comes to do this with your lady wife, you should both undress. But our clothes will remain on - mostly. This is more convenient if there’s an unexpected intruder. Plus, this hay is itchy.”

“Allow me,” says Prince Freidrich, sitting back on his knees and pulling off his jacket. For a second you wonder if he’s misunderstood what you said about undressing but then he flattens his jacket on the straw behind you for you to lie on.

If you were the swooning type, you might just have fainted then and there.

“May I?” he asks, touching the hem of your skirt at your ankle. You nod and he pushes up your skirts. You lift your hips, allowing him to remove your satin underwear. “Verdammt,” he breathes. He moves his head between your legs and you almost sit up in surprise. You don’t mind him having a better look at you if it’s his first time but this feels extremely personal.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

He looks up at you and you pull your skirts close to your stomach. “My book - it said to kiss you here to make sure you are ready.” His face is so close to you that you can feel his hot breath against your pussy.

“Your book said to kiss me… there?” Your eyebrows knit together but you think about how his tongue felt swirling inside your mouth and a stab of ache pierces through your ribs.

“It is not customary?” You shake your head and he frowns in confusion but doesn’t move.

And you realise that you don’t want him to go anywhere. That the idea of him kissing you there in the skilled way he was kissing your mouth inflames you. Out of amused interest, you lift yourself up onto one elbow only to find him looking at you intently, hanging on your every word, waiting to find out what he should do. You realise that you rather like the look of him here, between your legs.

“You -” You swallow. “- You may try. If it pleases you. But I warn you, I - oh -”

Your warning dissipates into the air as Prince Friedrich leans down and glides his hot tongue deep into the seam of your pussy with absolutely no hesitation. You feel yourself relax as you let him get on with this custom he’s learned from his book. You admit, it’s not unpleasant. But you’re not sure what he’s trying to achieve.

It sort of feels like when you touch yourself. Maybe less dextrous but it’s hotter and wetter and - and -

Good lord.

Much to your surprise - and your delight - you feel a soft, delicious warmth spreading from your core as he kisses you where you’ve never been kissed before. You splay your fingers through his blonde hair - your other hand still clutching your dress as his velvet mouth envelops your clutch of nerves and a wave of pleasure cascades through your body.

“Oh - oh fuck,” you curse, not caring that you’re swearing in front of the Prince. He pulls back abruptly and you pant.

“My lady?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

“Yes - god, yes,” you whine, impatient for his mouth to return to you.

He looks at you with that same subtle glint of authority he gave you this morning and says, “In that case, you are not keeping up with your side of the bargain. You promised you’d tell me what feels good.”

Prince Friedrich dips his head and resumes, going from sucking on your clit to lapping up your juices and back again as you squirm and rock against him. This time you remember to hold up your side of the bargain. You pant and tell him how good his mouth feels - how good he feels. Everything is soaked, from your skirts to his chin and nose as he lets you grind yourself against his face.

The flat of his tongue slides across your heat and it’s heavenly. Usually, when you’re with a partner, you’re used to working hard for your release - at the exact right position and tempo to pry yourself apart. But right now you’re just lying back and taking what Prince Friedrich’s tongue offers to you. And it’s offering exactly what you need.

“Don’t stop,” you mewl. “So good. S’good. So good -”

You feel yourself unravelling, your praise and words of affirmation turning into an incoherent babble as your orgasm breaches the surface. You must be making some semblance of sense because he listens - he keeps going and it’s all too much and not enough at once as your walls squeeze around nothing while Prince Friedrich continues his delicious assault on your bundle of nerves.

Damn. You do your very best not to cry out and draw attention to the stables as Prince Friedrich gets closer and closer to making you cum on his tongue. But it’s nigh impossible as you feel the heat rise from your stomach and pull back like the tide.

And then there’s the drop you’d been waiting for.

“Oh - god,” you moan, drawing out the last syllable so that it drips as slowly as treacle. Ecstasy courses through your body as your release washes over you, making your thighs tremble on either side of the Prince’s head. Your chest heaves and you gently tug on his hair, away from your oversensitive cunt. “That’s - that’s good. It’s good. It’s enough,” you gasp before collapsing your head back onto his jacket.

Prince Friedrich gives you a few more slow, gentle licks and murmurs, “So feucht.” before drawing a finger over your twitching, soaking wet entrance, admiring his own handiwork. You don’t know what his words mean and you don’t have the cognizance to ask as you stare up at the wooden beams and try to regain your senses.

After what feels like a lifetime of bliss, you’re happy for your view of the stable roof to be interrupted when Prince Friedrich moves up your body to kiss you and you taste the unfamiliar taste of your arousal on his lips. You kiss him back, slipping your tongue into his mouth and nipping at his bottom lip. God, this was supposed to be you teaching him a few things - not the other way around. When you anonymise this encounter and retell it to your friends later they will certainly be hearing about this.

“Good?” he asks when he pulls back and you nod, before swallowing air.

“I have half a mind to sell my estate and move to Prussia after the social season is over if that is what they do there,” you say breathlessly.

He smirks. “I have told you that it could be arranged. Come home with me and we won’t have to be discreet. We could do this every day.”

You pout playfully and push a loose curl from his forehead. “But I like the stables,” you joke even though your back is aching and a palace bed sounds much more appealing.

“Well, we have stables in Prussia. You could bring Artemis.”

Artemis.

He remembered her name.

Your face softens as you picture her as a royal steed, wearing a white feathered plume like she’s the diamond of the season.

But then the fleeting daydream disappears when you tell yourself that it’s a fantasy you can’t allow either of you to indulge in. As much as Queen Charlotte favours you, you know it would be seen as unacceptable for the Prince to marry someone from such a minor house.

And besides, you remind yourself that you don’t need a royal husband. You have your own home. You have your own horses. You have your own friends. You have everything you’ve ever wanted. But then, why does the thought of him making his social season debut at the ball tomorrow make your heart ache?

“There’s something else I’d like to ride, presently,” you say, in an attempt to rid the thought from your mind as you gently push on his shoulders until he lies on his back.

You straddle the Prince and unfasten his trousers so you can pull his cock out. The sight of him, hard and ready for you and the way he twitches involuntarily in your palm makes your heart pound as hard and steady as horses hooves galloping.

You wriggle forward until you feel the smooth underside of his cock sliding under your messily slick folds, still wet from the orgasm the Prince had bestowed upon you with his mouth. A flicker of dark enjoyment ignites in you when you see a line between his brows as he knits them together and watches as you lift your skirts so he can watch you sliding back and forward along the length of his cock.

“Do you enjoy watching me do this, Your Highness?” you ask as you grind against him.

“I would enjoy watching you do anything,” he says, pushing your gown out of the way to take hold of your hips. “Du bist schön.”

You pause. “Do what?”

“Nothing. Please. Don’t stop.” He presses his thumbs into your hipbones, urging you to create friction against him again.

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

“Isn’t - isn’t that what we’re doing?” stutters Prince Friedrich.

“Oh, my sweet Prince.” You bring your hand to his jaw as you lift yourself so you can position the head of his cock between your soaking folds with your other hand. “We’re only just getting started.”

You lock eyes with him and watch his face contort in pleasure as you slowly sink down, inch by glorious fucking inch. “Oh gott,” he whines. Your German is poor but you’re pretty confident you know what that means.

“Let me know when you’re going to spill - I don’t want to carry your bastard,” you murmur, still cupping his face. “Do you understand?”

“Ja,” he says through gritted teeth. “I understand.”

You’re not sure he really does but that primal part of your brain that wants to fuck him now and worry about the consequences later tells you to shove your hips down against the resistance. You force the rest of his thick cock into you and inhale through your teeth, feeling the delicious way he stretches and fills you. His hands clamp down hard on your hips, his thumbs pressing fresh bruises into your hipbones.

They don’t make them like this in Kettering. Or London for that matter. Equal parts sweet and naive yet firm and decisive. He doesn’t know what he wants yet but he still wants it. Desperately.

As if proving your point, you lean forward to feel the beautiful way he drags out of you and he seizes the opportunity to bury his face into your cleavage, your corseted dress making it exceptionally easy for him.

He moans open-mouthed against your chest, his tongue sloppily trying to find your nipple. You move your hips back and down and wildfire bursts in your lower belly when his cock nudges against that sweet spot you’ve been longing for.

It’s not enough for him - he wants more. He lifts his hips and the tip of his cock drives against your G-spot.

“Oh - fuck. Freidrich. That feels good.”

“So it is okay for me to move too?” he asks.

“Please,” you murmur, closing your eyes and feeling him slide back into you at that perfect angle.

You don’t need to tell him twice.

He rolls his hips upwards to meet yours as you ride him. You can hear how fucking wet you are. Everything is slick and hot and drenched as you roll your hips up and down on top of him and he fucks himself into you.

“So schön,” he grunts and the foreign words sound guttural to your ears.

“I hope that means ‘good’,” you tease, leaning forward to breathe hot air onto his neck.

“Pretty,” he murmurs in your ear. “So pretty.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage as his hips pick up pace. Fuck - you like him being under you like this. Even here, in the stables where someone might come looking if they notice that Prince Friedrich is missing from his chambers.

The sound of your stretched, wet cunt fills the stables so obscenely that it peppers shame into your consciousness. But he hears it too. He jerks up so fiercely that his balls slap against you. You suck air in through your teeth at the sharp sting and he looks concerned but you reassure him. “It’s - oh fuck - keep going. Right there.”

You go from slamming yourself down on him to your whole body stiffening, letting him drive up into you as your hot orgasm approaches, creeping over you in pulsing waves. Your walls grip him, tightening and convulsing as -

“I should - tja - remove myself from inside you -” he stops thrusting up into you and you almost wail with disappointment.

“No - fuck - keep going.” What are you saying? You rock your hips and bounce on him, every nerve inside you applauding your decision to ignore your conscience as you manage to hang onto the precipice. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m going to -”

“Fuck it,” you heave, your walls squeezing impossibly tighter as you fuck yourself on him. “Cum in me. I don’t care.” What the fuck are you saying?!

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

It’ll be fine.

You’ve had an accident or two and have been lucky so far.

You may as well have told the Prince that Christmas had come early. The sight of your flushed face, dishevelled hair and the way your tits are threatening to spill out of your dress with every bounce of your hips drives him wild.

Frankly, you’re the most deliciously intoxicating thing he’s ever experienced. He just doesn’t have the necessary vocabulary to tell you this in English.

By this point, “Oh gott,” is the only thing he says that you can understand. You hardly hear the rest as he babbles away in German - you can barely hear anything over the pulse of blood pounding in your ears as Friedrich picks up his pace again. Your body locks down around him so tightly you wonder if you might break him.

“Just like that - fuck, there,” you whimper. He takes the instruction well, driving his cock deep into you - exactly where you need it. The coil of heat in your core tightens impossibly tighter as he chokes words you don’t understand into your ear as he pulls you close to his chest

Maybe one day he’ll teach you what those words mean and you’ll find out that he was telling you what a good girl you are for taking his cock like this.

“Fuck - I’m - that’s it,” you sob, your chest heaving against his fine silk shirt and your fingers entwined in his soft blonde hair. You squeeze around him like a vice. “Friedrich, I -”

“Do it,” he groans. You hadn’t expected him to say that. And certainly not with the commanding tone he chooses. “Let me feel it.”

The coil inside you snaps. A blaze of white-hot fire bursts through you like stitches being ripped. You seize and cry out as your release whips through you with such force that you think you might go cross-eyed. You bury your face into his neck, smelling the rich sandalwood scent splashed on his skin, mixed with his sweat.

Freidrich keeps his tight hold of your hips, fucking into you even as you shake and tremble.

“Ich komme,” breathes the Prince. “Ich komme, ich komme.” It only takes a few more rough, slapping thrusts until you don’t have to guess what that means. You feel him finishing inside you, thick ropes of his spend painting your insides.

You lie here like this for a few moments, collapsed onto his chest and feeling his seed leaking out of you. You feel dizzy as his chest rises and falls underneath you and his fingers tenderly trace lines up and down your back. He closes his eyes, feeling the satin of your gown as his fingertips dance across it.

You could easily fall asleep like this.

Instead, you hoist yourself off him and lie flat on your back as if unattaching yourself from him will place a barrier between you. Put a halt to the immense surge of affection you feel for him in this moment. But he doesn’t let you get far. Prince Friedrich rolls onto his side and cups your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone and skirting across your lips before he leans down to kiss you. You close your eyes, letting the kiss dissolve into a wet, lazy haze.

He pulls back and looks down into your eyes. “I promised I would not ask for your hand when this was over. So I have nothing else to say.”

“At least now you are prepared for the social season beginning tomorrow.”

“I don’t care about the season. I want to leave. Tonight. To take you with me.”

“I don’t have the wealth or the beauty for that to be allowed to happen,” you say. “The Queen would never find us to be a suitable match. Never mind Lady Whistledown having a field day.”

“You have more than enough of both for me.”

“For you, Friedrich. But not enough for Prince Friedrich. Not enough for The Crown,” you say, your heart breaking as you do. This was a bad idea, after all. You adjust your gown and get to your feet, pretending to ignore Prince Friedrich’s attempts to help you up.

“And what about my - my seed? What if you’re with child?”

You laugh mirthlessly. “We’d have to be exceptionally unlucky for that to happen on our first try. Put it far from your mind. Go and meet with the diamond of the season tomorrow and all of the ladies queuing up to become the Princess Consort of Prussia. They will make you much happier than I ever could.”

You walk towards the stable door but he takes your hand and gives you your discarded gloves. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, Friedrich.” You can’t. You can hear the gossip already. A thousand people whispering behind your back about how you’re not good enough for the Prince. It would be like that every day for the rest of your life in the spotlight if you did marry him. You tear your eyes away from him and open the stable door.

“Will I ever see you again?” he asks after you.

You pause and turn around. “Perhaps.” You smile at him sadly. “Who knows? If I am with child, maybe you’ll have no choice but to whisk me away back to Prussia and marry me, never to be seen in London ever again. And everyone will wonder why.”

You turn back before he can see your face crumble, leaving the stable door open behind you as Prince Friedrich watches you leave into the night. Your mare whinnies, nudging him gently over her stable door.

Prince Friedrich gives in to her pestering and scratches her neck, much to her enjoyment. Before dawn, he will write a letter. To make sure a stall is prepared for Artemis in the palace stables in Prussia.

Just in case.

#bridgerton #prince friedrich #prince friedrich x reader #bridgerton smut #smut #fanfic

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justpeaxchy · 5 months ago

Text

Warnings(?): none. Fluff and more fluff. Hiccup gets flustered, so does reader, so win-win.

Hiccup's hands fiddled with the charcoal pencil he had carefully sharpened as the dragon beside him gently gazed at his rider with curiosity. The new island they had discovered was covered with shades of orange from the trees that spiked up at a height bigger than he could ever imagine of climbing on. He had muttered the idea that they could, just maybe, find another night fury. He knew it was a far-fetched idea, making him feel a small pang of guilt.

"I know, bud. You never know though..." His eyes swirled with a deep green that matched the grass around them as he gently rubbed the dragon's chin, not yet noticing the approaching figure behind them.

It was only when Toothless had tilted his head up to glance behind them that Hiccup looked back to see you slowly making your way over to them, a delicate smile crossing your lips. "So, you've come to run away again?" You found your place next to Hiccup as he lightly scoffed, reaching out his hand for yours as you made yourself comfortable next to him while Toothless ran off to play with your dragon.

"Good afternoon to you as well, Milady." He guided your hands next to the charcoal pen he had put down, wanting you to continue the drawings on the map so he would have an excuse to gaze at you without being questioned. "And, no - not really. I mean, I guess you could say that." He muttered hesitantly, not fully paying attention to his words as you began to trace out more lines onto the paper.

You hummed, ignoring the fact that you started to feel his eyes on your form as you tried to push away the flutter in your chest. "Then, what? Going on another adventure with Toothless?" You felt your hand brush against his as you drew to the best of your abilities while he merely sighed, glancing at the trees that stood out brightly before them.

"Something like that.." Hiccup swept any remaining unruly hair out of his face as he absentmindedly leaned his head against your shoulder, causing you to questioningly gaze at him before going back to the map. He usually wasn't so... casual with the affection he showed you, despite being together for a couple of years. He has gotten more used to it, yes, but even simple actions like holding your hand for a longer amount of time or gently kissing your forehead took some time for him to regularly do. Not that you minded of course, as you yourself were new to it.

"Well, I'm not angry if that's what you're thinking." You mumbled, placing down the pencil and peeked at his face, which seemed calm and ethereal at the moment. Hiccup slightly lifted himself up from leaning on you, narrowing his eyes at your statement.

"I didn't take you to be-" he paused as if reconsidering what he would say, "- well, that angry at least." The young chief -to-be smiled as you rolled your eyes, your hands lifting up to his face as you gently brushed away any loose hairs, fighting off the urge to braid another piece of it.

"Trust me, I'm not angry. I just.." Your hands continued to wander around his face, stopping at his cheeks as he watched you intently. "..I was just thinking of why you wouldn't be at the dragon race today." You finished, managing to see both of the dragons fight over a large tree branch. You had a habit of worrying for Hiccup whenever he ran off like this, so when he would return he was usually met with crossed arms and a small smirk waiting for an explanation. He always assumed you'd be angry at him for it, but after a while he had realized you only cared for his safety and, if anything, wanted to go with him.

"Just know, Hiccup - you're probably the smartest person I've ever met, and I know when you're out here with Toothless, you're most likely discovering something new like.. this-" you gestured to the new land that surrounded the both of you, grinning at the color of the trees, "and after that you're probably off to create some new invention that'll help us a bunch." You thought over the many things Hiccup had done for Berk, despite how they treated him at one point. You never participated in what they said, instead feeling pity for him as a young girl and wishing that he would show them that he is capable of something.

Hiccup found himself avoiding your gaze, choosing instead to watch the dragon's roll around in the dirt as they continued to fight over the tree branch. "Where is this coming from all of a sudden..?" He thought for a moment that you wouldn't catch what he said but, nonetheless, you had most definitely heard the small grumble and you grinned once more as you went back to the map to see if there was anything else you could add.

"What? Can I not compliment my own future husband?" Your grin grew as you heard a struggled gasp from Hiccup, as if he had chocked on water at the unexpected statement. He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you were really his and would soon be his only wife. A sudden idea filled your mind as you heard him shuffle closer to you and the map, waiting for his further reaction.

"Well, no. I just - I just wasn't expecting that. Uhm.." Hiccup twiddled with the straps on his arms, unknowingly wanting to hear more of these 'compliments' from you. "S-so what are you drawing there?" He stated, as if completely forgetting it was the map he willingly allowed you to draw on.

"Ah, avoiding it, I see?" Your hand stopped sketching as you stole a glance at the taller figure beside you, noticing a slight shade of red dusting his cheeks. "Well, you can't escape my compliments, sir." Hiccup watched as you turned to fully face him, eyes glistening with mischief.

"What? W-who said I was avoiding it? " He went to pick up the charcoal pencil you placed back on the ground as you tried to make him look at you once more but he wouldn't budge. Your grin turned into a smirk as you casually leaned back on your arms, still taking him in.

"Hiccup, has anyone ever told you how pretty your eyes are by the way?" You watched as his movement became more rigid than they were before while he tried keeping his composure. "Y'know.. they really stand out every time I look at you. They match the forest in a way.." You hummed nonchalantly as if you were talking about the weather, watching Hiccup struggle against the blush that threatened to cover most of his face.

"Alright, yeah, I get it. Now-" He was interrupted as you swiftly stopped his hand from continuing to sketch, instead taking it from him rather gently and fix the rough edges he accidentally made. "Oh, my bad. I, uh-" He fumbled over his words, his brain not working with him at the moment and he questioned himself as to why he was acting in such a way. This wasn't the first time you did this but at the peak of his emotions from the earlier conversation with his father about becoming chief and then suddenly hearing your sweet talk did something to him that had him stop right in his tracks to hear every word you said, even if he was hesitant to accept some.

"I noticed you've gotten even better with riding Toothless. How's the wing suit coming along?" You playfully glanced at him as he stuttered over the right answer. "Nevermind, I know it's already great." You gently kissed Hiccup's nose as he sat there dumbfounded at your actions. Your eyes scanned his face as you told yourself to remember where all the freckles were located. "I like your freckles too.." you muttered, seeing him shake his head as he thought the grass was suddenly more interesting to look at.

You smiled as he said nothing, basking in the shade of red that was now visible from where you sat before watching the leaves on the trees around you both being gently swayed to the rhythm of the wind. "But in all seriousness, Hiccup. You're a great person. I just want you to see that. I'm not just complimenting you on your physical looks - although that is a huge bonus on my part-" you smirked back at him for a quick second as he cleared his throat to try and not choke on air, "I fell in love with you for who you are, Hiccup. Not because you're the chief's son, or because you were the first one to introduce dragons to us in this way, although that part is really awesome." You heard the two creatures behind you playfully growl as Toothless managed to win the branch before continuing, "I love you and all of your flaws. Even the ones that you think are flaws but are not. I want you to see yourself as someone that's not useless, Hiccup."

You were met with more shuffling as he turned to face you, his eyes holding something you couldn't pinpoint in words. "Nothing can make me change the fact that I love you, Hiccup. Even if I may get worried or a little upset with you sometimes.." You found yourself shuffling closer to the map, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed that he wasn't saying anything. "Anyway, you're too pretty to be mad at for a while-"

Your words never finished as you were lightly pulled away from the map to find Hiccup's lips on yours, startling you in every way possible while his other hand cupped your face to pull you even more closer to him than you already were. Time seemed to slow down, much to your delight, as he continued to take the lead; again, much to your surprise. His kiss was passionate, almost rough, as he gently caressed your face in his hand and you found yourself growing weak by the unspoken words his actions gave you; "I love you too, now shut up."

Hiccup would've continued but he had to breathe too, so he found himself begrudgingly pulling away from you, as his eyes were only slightly opened to find you stammering, face red with shock and yet, chasing his lips for more. He gently shook his head, smiling to himself as he caught his breath. "You really need to learn when to be quiet."

He watched as you barely registered his words, your eyes piercing into his until they went to his lips once more. "Uh-huh.. yeah.." you leaned in until your nose's were touching and he had to look away with a small chuckle as he placed his hands on your shoulders, giving you a quick kiss before turning back to the map, leaving you dumbfounded.

"So, where to next?" Hiccup pointed to the map, expecting you to play along as if nothing happened, making you stare at him wide-eyed. He tried to hide the smirk making its way on his lips as he rubbed his face as if trying to brush off a fly. "Something the matter, milady?"

He held back a chuckle as you cleared your throat, shifting closer to him as you held your chin high as if to regain your "dignity." "N-nope. Nothing at all." You cringed at the stuttering in your words, hoping he wouldn't notice:much to your dismay, he did, but did nothing to show it. You calmed yourself down as he started to ramble on the recent island they discovered, not yet seeing your gaze on him as admiration filled your eyes for the man you fell in love with - even his flaws.

#hiccup haddock #hiccup how to train your dragon #hiccup x reader #httyd #httyd rtte #hiccup httyd #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #httyd hiccup #how to train your dragon #how to train a dragon 2 #hiccup #hiccup x oc

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