#i shall attempt in courting you once again

[justchillaine]

Me waiting for the 1.6 update of Stardew Valley mobile reminds me of the time I was waiting for my goddamn college application results back in 2022. Fuck timezones indeed. I have been refreshing twitter the whole day.

I should be studying for our midterms

[sehaedazokla]

he that dares

part one

premise: Cregan Stark's arrival in King's Landing has brought a new type of chaos to the capital. Lady Tyrell is determined to use the Northern lord to her advantage, but the task might not be as straightforward as it seems. 

warnings: grief mention

word count: 4k

a/n: here is the idea that has been plaguing my brain since i started this blog. more installments to follow. any comments, feedback, thoughts are always appreciated, especially since this is my first longer piece on here. thank you to whomever requested this. it is not exactly what you asked for, but rest assured the story shall eventually give you what you desire.

next part | series masterlist

The Tyrell girl finds herself with the distinct thought that there is absolutely nothing special about Cregan Stark after all. 

She decides upon this in her quarters at King’s Landing, which are modest in size, almost befitting a young lady from a family as opulent as House Tyrell. The sheer silks of the curtains blow inwards gently in the face of the afternoon wind that drifts in from the open window, the slight smell of seawater and the remnants of a cooler day. 

The girl in the vanity mirror gazes back at her with a delicately downturned chin and round doe eyes that look up underneath delicate wisps of long lashes. She gives the look another attempt, pressing her lips together slightly to give her a darling pout as she opens a small pot of rouge. The color comes from an ornate box that is covered in gilded roses and twisting thorns. Her fingernails tap gently on the edge of the metal as she opens the rouge with a soft click. With one of her fingers, she presses into the coloring only the slightest bit to pull some onto her skin. 

Her plump lips are parted carefully as she raises her hand to dab the color to her mouth, leaning forward slightly. Some of her loose curls sway softly with the motion, and she rests her elbow against the edge of the vanity’s table. Once she has finished, she reaches down to open a drawer and produces a white lace handkerchief that is embroidered with the sigil of House Tyrell – a beautiful rose in shimmering golden silk. When she wipes her finger against the fabric, a light stain of pink is left behind. 

She returns to her earlier judgement, regarding the young lord she is set to meet with shortly. Cregan Stark is heavy on her mind that day. 

It was not too long ago that the Northern men had arrived in King’s Landing. Soon after followed their liege lord, the Lord of Winterfell, the man who holds the court at present. With him had come an even larger force and with that army he had seized control of the entire city in a very short manner of time. It would seem the young lord had every intention of continuing the war that had consumed the noble houses, much to the concern of House Tyrell.

The House is ran by a woman at present. The Tyrell girl thought of her mother briefly, and of her little brother Lyonel who was only two years of age. She knew her mother did not wish for the war to continue. That very mother had then told the girl that while this Northern lord maintained a firm hold on King’s Landing it was her responsibility to do what she did best: win him over.

There was little to complain about when the request was delivered to her. On the contrary, she had already predicted the wishes of her mother and had ensured she was in the throne room the moment Cregan Stark had first pushed those large doors open, blue eyes sharp and sword still in his hand as he led his bannermen in. It is with perfect clarity that she can recall the moment his head lifted to the balcony of the grand room, meeting her gaze for the first time. 

She could additionally recall each and every following occurrence of the prolonged gaze they exchanged whenever they happened to cross paths. After a few instances of this, heavy looks where the Northern lord would hold her stare as if he had no intention of ever looking elsewhere again, she found his eyes began to wander. To the lady’s lace she occasionally wove into her elaborate hairstyles, to the small freshwater pearls that spilled over of her collarbones, and then down further to the way the embroidery at the top of her gowns would sweep across her breasts that were pushed upward by the tightness of her whalebone corsets.

And once an adequate trap had been laid, the Rose of the Court had swept in with angelic grace and poise to introduce herself to him. It had gone as smoothly as she could have expected – save for the way she had found Cregan Stark was smarter than she expected. The shine in his eyes when she’d spoken let her know that this Northern lord would not fall prey to her so easily. 

Nevertheless, he has called upon her that afternoon. Which is why she is spending a rather grey day dabbing the subtlest of color onto her lips before smoothing her delicately arranged hair into place and informing her maid she is ready to depart.

They are to meet in the castle’s gardens, as per her own request. She had spent quite some time in the gardens during her time in King’s Landing, and found men were much more likely to deem a conservation there pleasant as it would reflect her scents of rose water and lavender oil and honey.

She catches sight of him as she makes her way down one of the pathways made of little rocks, her elegant heels tapping on the small, pearl-colored pebbles as she approaches. Lord Stark is facing away from her, his hands clasped behind his back. He is still dressed in dark colors but has opted against the heavy furs that had adorned his broad shoulders the first time she had seen him. His hair is a striking shade of red that when caught by sunlight shines almost golden about the edges. But this day, the sky is overcast and gloomy with a few gusts of wind and the faint smell of rain that perhaps foretold an incoming summer storm.

Cregan Stark turns as he hears her drawing nearer, his chin raising slightly as his stern gaze falls upon the Tyrell girl. 

She has settled for a hurried step, the heavy skirts of her elaborate dress clutched in her petite hands as she rushes up to him rather quickly, bringing a natural red flush to her cheeks. As if she had been quite fretful over the idea of making him wait for even a moment. Her maid trails behind, grasping at the fluttering of her headdress that the wind plucks at in gusts. The maid is providing the girl with a small amount of distance as she stops to catch her breath in front of Cregan.

“I do hope I have not kept you waiting, Lord Stark,” The Tyrell girl begins, her shoulders rolling back elegantly as she speaks. The action draws further attention to the prominence of her collarbone, over which a thin necklace of gold lays. Her eyebrows raise and draw closer as she gives Cregan a honeyed and apologetic smile. The color of her lips is that of a blooming rose.

Cregan finds there are no shortages of places to look when it comes to her. And yet there is no safe place to rest his eyes upon, no part of her that has not been subtly enhanced or maneuvered to make her look as comely as might be possible. It is no wonder that she has enchanted half of his bannermen as if by some sort of spell, leaving longing eyes and craning necks in her wake as she glides about the court. 

And Cregan cannot truthfully declare he is immune to her beauty. The only reason he has noticed so much regarding her is that he had been staring, all dry swallows and heavy-lidded eyes, at her since arriving. The way she made his blood rush hot in his veins, her face and figure more than pleasing. Cregan will not imagine – he is a gentleman, and she a highborn lady -but he could imagine, if he allows himself to, and he could imagine much whenever she enters his line of sight. She needn’t say a word to draw his eye.

He settles for looking into her eyes, although they are perhaps the most disarming feature on her dollish face.

“No, you have not Lady Tyrell.” There is a depth to his tone that she is not used to, even after a week of hearing Northern accents echoing down the halls of King’s Landing. He pronounces both her name and title by enunciating both syllables with a low timbre. She notices the way he intentionally kept his gaze to her eyes, his brows neutral and his features even. A proper Northern lord, perhaps. The girl will figure him out for herself soon enough.

“Oh, thank goodness,” She breathes the first word as a sigh of sweet relief, pausing for a moment to catch her breath since she had hurried so worriedly over to him. A hand comes to her chest, sliding over the top of her full breasts as she presses down to soothe her aching lungs.

Cregan’s eyes flick down.

“I would hate to be late. I know how busy you must be, what with all of your responsibilities here at King’s Landing,” There is that sweet smile again, breaking across her face like the sun through the sky in the early hours of the morning. When she folds her hands gracefully across her front, her cleavage comes together impossibly tighter as her arms press to her sides.

Cregan looks back up to her face, hand clenching lightly.

“Aye, I have been quite busy. Handling the remnants of Aegon’s supporters has proved a heavy task.” His eyes are light, reflective of the overcast sky above their heads. They narrow a bit as he speaks, his expression stern and his voice gruff. She wonders for a moment over how seriously he must take himself.

“A difficult yet vital task, verily.” The Tyrell girl’s eyelashes flutter lightly. She dips her head as if to acknowledge the severity and importance of his work at the capital.

He beholds her for a heartbeat, the slightest twitch of his heavy brows when she speaks with a tone that implies the most agreeable and sweet countenance. It is the perfect thing to reply with, a simple sentence that does not ally herself with either side of the war. An easy compliment given to him like candy. Here is a girl who has learned to play the game of court.

And before Cregan can push the subject further to see if he might glimpse a hint of her true opinion on the matter, the girl is already turning towards the path. He waits a moment while she begins to walk, observing the way she steps with effortless grace. Letting out a small sigh, his wide shoulders drop and he takes a few heavy steps to catch up with her.

The maid trails behind them, and Cregan wonders for a moment if she needs anything from the girl. As he glances over his shoulder, the girl catches notice and smiles, sugary and pleasant.

“How has the capital treated you, my lord? Aside from your important work, that is,” Her chin raises as she looks at him sideways. It is a fair way she has to look up, with the obvious height he has on her. She has never been considered tall, but even so, Cregan’s stature is quite imposing.

Cregan considers her words for a moment. The gardens are quiet, most of the lords and ladies inside to avoid the low clouds that hang precariously above them.

“The South is not much like the North,” He meets her eyes with a heavy gaze as he speaks. There is a heaviness about him in general – stern and disciplined. “I came for the war and find there’s one in every corner of your court.”

She keeps her eyes to the ground for a moment, her expression cool and pleasing. So it would seem Cregan Stark was not altogether empty-headed and boorish.

“Life at court can be quite turbulent at times, it is true,” A honey-tongued and cool concession, smooth as river water over rocks. “But your steadfast devotion to bringing justice is a refreshing presence. Others of your idealism have long since left these walls.”

At first glance, it is a compliment of the softest praise. But Cregan is not foolish enough to take her words for their immediate meaning. No, what Cregan hears instead is an unimpressed warning of what happens to those who come to King’s Landing with good intentions.

“I swore an oath and intend to keep it,” His brow creases in a serious frown. “Even should those I made that oath to no longer draw breath.”

“How very honorable,” Swift and candied, the words fall from her rosy lips as she walks gracefully at his side, finding herself with a flash of annoyance as she has to increase her pace to keep up with his wide steps. This is supposed to be a leisurely stroll, why is it that every step he takes has the length and intent of someone walking towards a particular destination? “It is good to know that the stories of Northern loyalty ring true.”

Cregan feels his jaw tighten slightly, his eyes on her face as she upturns her chin to meet his gaze once more. The look on her face implies she is impressed, but the Lord of Winterfell has an eye for falsehoods and this girl is covered in them, no matter how coquettishly smoothed they are.

A frown of contemplation folds onto his stern face. “It is our nature, my lady.”

“So it is.” A saccharine smile and the glitter of wide eyes. The garden’s flowers are in full bloom, upturned to the sky to catch the possible rain that would occur in the later evening. The petals facing the clouds, waiting, watching. Leaning towards the water they wish for. A small flutter of wings can be heard as a butterfly brushes past. “To be true to one’s nature, you will find, is not a common occurrence here at court. If it is Northern custom to be honest and straightforward, it is Southern custom to be prudent and waiting.” 

There is an eloquent way of describing the venomous snake pit that was the capital. Most of the men there came for their own personal interest or gain, clawing to the top of the food chain through underhanded tactics and broken oaths and lies. Most men worked their entire lives for a fragment of what Cregan Stark had come to King’s Landing and taken in one day.

“Therefore, you must imagine why you are so fascinating to many of us here at court.”  She explains in a tone of light and airy amiableness, meeting his gaze as if admitting why she had been staring after him so often since his arrival at King’s Landing. This is not exclusively a lie – she was sizing him up, same as every other noble who cared enough to keep an eye on the larger game at play. But some of her staring had been purely self-indulgent, much to her own irritation.

“And you have lived here at court long?” Cregan’s question is reserved and polite.

“A couple of years now,” The Tyrell girl looks out in front of her again while they walk, surveying the gardens around them thoughtfully as if she had not seen them a thousand times. “I served as a lady in waiting to Queen Helaena. The Hightowers are bannermen of House Tyrell and I had been betrothed to her younger brother Daeron from his birth. We had been set to marry this year, however…”

She could not care less about her betrothal to Daeron. It had served her well, allowing her more time to live unmarried as Daeron was much younger than her and the two had never met. And then he had died, and she found herself lacking the safety and security of a royal and wealthy betrothed who was miles away. She wishes she could say she had mourned him, but she had not known him at all.

“I am sorry for your loss, Lady Tyrell.” There is an almost warm quality in his voice as Cregan offers his sincere condolences. She looks down, as she knows she should. Many had given her similar sentiments in regard to the loss of her betrothed, but she did not find herself shedding a single tear for the fallen prince. It is not that there had been no love between them: it is that there had been nothing between them at all. Daeron had never so much as written her a single letter in an attempt to know her. But his sister plagues her thoughts.

Helaena had been a dear friend, a companion, a confidant. It was Helaena who had offered the girl company in that first frightening year at court, who had been unfaltering honest and direct with her. There were no court games or schemes at play with Helaena, no power struggles or competition or backstabbing. The Tyrell girl had been devastated to lose the Queen. Much more so than a stranger she had never even laid eyes upon. Daeron was a figment of imagination from the mind of her childhood self; Helaena had been flesh and blood and dreams and understanding. 

She is glad her eyes are downcast; she can feel the glassy haze falling over them and the way her smile lacks any warmth. After a moment, she forces a happier smile back upon her lips and dips her head slightly.

“I thank you, Lord Stark. It has been difficult in the face of such a loss, but I do hope to persevere.”  The brightness of her voice lowers to a softer tone. She is well used to pretending to mourn her late betrothed. It is not hard when she simply examines her feelings over Helaena, but such raw and angry grief is not befitting of a lady. No one wishes to see her scream and tear at her hair over the pain that rakes carved, hollow cavities into her chest. They wish for a light dab at a stray tear, a quiet, palatable sadness they can soothe with promises of future love and happiness.

Cregan does not know what to make of her reaction, unable to see her face as it is turned away. Her words are even, practiced. 

“I have only spent my time between the capital and Highgarden. There is much of the world I have yet to see,” The Tyrell girl guides the conversation back to Cregan’s original question with ease and experience. She catches his stormy eyes gazing intensely at her once more, sucking in a gentle breath that she wishes she could say is done on purpose to feign interest.

“I imagine I might fair poorly in the North,” She continues hurriedly, eyelashes fluttering as she regains control over her composure, eyes cast to the sky as she presents a sheepish breath of laughter. “With the cold and what not.”

Cregan’s lips twitch faintly at her admission, his head tilting a little as he gazes down at her. It is an amusing thought, this delicate rose in her pastel fabrics and shining jewelry among the ice and snow. He rather wishes to see it, he finds.

“Aye, I fear even our summers would prove challenging for those raised in such fair climate.” The amusement reaches his eyes and she finds herself watching as Cregan looks down, doing his best to remain a gentleman and fighting off the smile that seems to be threatening to break out at the corners of his lips. She hears what his words truthfully mean: he views the Southerners as weaker, used to sunshine and easy days. 

Does he fancy himself better because he spent all his time in nightmarish weather, buried under pelts and furs and smelling of sweat and snow? She is eager to see how he’d fare in court without the large army he had brought with him.

“Oh, I simply could not bear it,” She sighs deeply, as if even the thought of such bitter cold was too worrying a predicament to bear in her delicate mind. “I am afraid you shall not be seeing me in the North anytime soon, Lord Stark.”

“A pity, my lady,” There is still a measure of serious composure in his face, but Cregan’s eyes shimmer with something else as he watches her bring her hand to her chest again, smoothing down the expensive fabrics and then up over the soft flesh of her breasts. An action that feigns worry and concern and draws his attention. She has a way of leading the eye about in a subtle manner. Her figure gives him pause. “The North offers a great beauty for those who choose to brave it.”

Her eyes flick to his and there is a moment where Cregan can almost see her sharp mind discerning whether his comment is a challenge or a jab or merely an observation. It fascinates him, yet his face betrays nothing of the thought.

“Perhaps I should amend my previous statement,” The soft laugh that escapes her lips and the sweetness of her expression makes Cregan wonder if he has imagined something. “If my lord was so kind as to offer me an invitation to Winterfell, I would, of course, be honored beyond words.”

Cregan wonders for a moment if he can discern her true intentions. She intrigues him, much more than she should. It was her alone of all the Southern ladies who had approached him directly, introducing herself and offering welcome. Cregan knows it is not from the goodness of her heart. She could fool his bannerman with her wide eyes and friendly smiles, but Cregan was attuned to lies, no matter how beautifully they were spun. Attuned, yet perhaps not immune to their crafter.

It is likely she seeks marriage, now that her betrothed has fallen in battle. Cregan is a perfect candidate. But he cannot be sure, not when she’s blinking up at him with such sweet and thoughtful eyes. Her weapons are great and her skill with them is more so. Before Cregan can open his mouth to mention that he would in fact, wish to see her with rosy cheeks bitten from the cold and snowflakes in her soft hair, she casts her eyes to the sky, frowning thoughtfully.

“It would seem that the evening storm is rolling in sooner that anticipated,” She muses, sighing a little, as if she is truly saddened their stroll is coming to an end. They have almost walked to the end of the gardens anyhow. “I shall excuse myself, if you do not mind, Lord Stark.”

Cregan lowers his head in understanding, his eyes meeting hers as he lifts his chin. He holds the stare for longer than needed. “Go ahead, my lady. I would hate to see you caught in the rain. You might melt.”

She blinks, that sweet smile on her lips but not quite reaching her eyes as she feels her jaw tighten slightly. How utterly charming. As if to subtly let her know he has not fallen for a single thing she has said or done in the last hour. She imagines he finds that amusing.

“How kind of you, my lord.” She offers him through a mildly forced grace, her right eye twitching a little as she gives a deep curtsy that once again showcases just how fortunately she is blessed in the bosom. Cregan finds his mouth dry, his shoulders rolling back slightly. “Do not hesitate to call upon me should you need anything at court. I hear it can be quite challenging for those raised in such fair company.”

When she draws herself up, she gives him one last smile before she turns to collect her maid and disappears.

Cregan hears his own words shot back at him with the most amiable and honeyed cadence but realizes a moment too late. He runs a hand through his red hair and then over his face as he sighs. But as he does so, he feels the ghost of a smile on his lips. Cregan finds himself shaking his head, gazing in the direction she has vanished into for a long moment in silence.

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[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐕 ✴️

Taglist: @faespace @baellabass @ejs398

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, mentions of noncon

>Alicent and her children had been guarding your sleep the whole night, the night of the king's passing

>Aemond saw his mother just observe you while displaying an unreadable expression, he prides himself with being able to decipher people and use it to his benefit, but this time, his mother seemed out of reach to him. If he had to guess, she was attempting to treat you like a pawn, trying to dehumanize you to gain control over the political situation, and she was failing

>For his part, his thoughts while observing you, were much tainted he was watching your chest rise with every breath, examining your boobs and how they would slightly change shape when you laid on your back, much rounder. He would love if his mother and sister left to grope and caress, even just over the cloth, even for just a minute. Just a minute to smell your skin, your natural scent now free of the perfumes you would wear to fit in court

>He would love to have a minute, but he wants a whole life, Aemond is sure not even growing old with you would leave him satisfied, he would look for you again

>He wondered what would you think of him, he has a plethora of fantasies depending on your reactions. The most obvious one, disgust. He would cage you his his arms, hold your wrists with one hand while using the other to rid you of the bothersome clothing, sucking and biting at your neck, then your niples. You resist, but he is able to bring you pleasure regardless, some of your screams turn into moans and by the time he's kissing below your navel and starting to use a finger to play with your slit, your pleas of "no" and "please do not" are almost automatic, you do want him to go down on you, but you continue to chant the words as if to preserve what's left of purity

>But that fantasy would soon get old, he wished to exert power over you, yet have you willingly submit

>If you could only look at him the same way that you used to while consoling him over his lack of a mount

>Helaena was there as well, Jahaera and Jahaerys had been brought by her, but taken to bed by the maids in no time

>Helaena sung intelligible songs while playing with the threads in-between her fingers, for the little audible parts, Aemond heard the songs speak of dragons, swords, fire and blood

>His mother had arranged for Aegon to usurp the throne, he would never say this out loud, he knows his brother is a usurper, but he encourages this, as he wants the strong bastards away from the line of succession as one can be. Better off dead, but that's too much to ask

>Everything was in place, except for the king. Aegon was missing, «of course Aegon was missing» he thought

>Otto wanted to send ser Criston to find him, but Alicent protested it would leave you alone. They went back and forth until Otto said they would entrust Daeron with your guard. Aemond rolled his eye.

>Helaena had left without him noticing, possibly to mother the twins and whatnot

>He was in his mother's chambers, Otto alongside her, discussing the future of the realm. «This is the real small council» he said to himself

>"I will find Aegon, mother" said Aemond

>"That is already taken care of, Ser Criston will not rest until-" Otto spoke

>"He doesn't know where Aegon is, I do"

>"Then speak at once, boy" Aemond grimaced at the words of his grandsire

>"I am not to speak, I am to search, this is matter that requires involvement" he paused "But I want something"

>"We shall send Ser Criston, you will join if he fails"

>"And waste all that time? He may be as well as dead halfway through ser Criston's crusade"

>"Name your prize" Otto replied, breathing defeat in every syllable

>"You will hear it after" Aemond saw Otto arch an eyebrow and open his mouth to speak "Do not worry, I have no interest on the crown, or land, or titles, I would have acted before had been that my goal" His mother urged him to speak, but he had to remain silent, he was sure she would understand

>Him and the royal guard were underdressed in rags to blend in, Aemond wore a cape to cover his silver mane

>He had to endure the obnoxious Cole knocking on every brothel door like he was a lost peasant

>He was very uncomfortable when he found the madam of that one place, staying stiff and shivering under his cold facade

>He thanked the seven you could not see him like that, weak

>Once they found the White Worm, she said the prince would be handed over a ridiculous sum that they bargained

>But before they could leave with Aegon, he remembered something. The White Worm weaves silk through far and wide in the realm. The White Worm who is the paramour of the prince of the city, the White Worm that could have been your mother

>Aemond would order extra vigilance on you that night, while Misarya was known to be a slimy, untrustworthy woman, she had never been known to betray Daemon, or to betray gold for that matter, and Daemon was not going to skimp on you

>He had to say he was anything but surprised when he learned of that idiotic scheme of his brother to leave the city. Aemond imagined he'd waste his small fortune on whores as soon as he arrived, feast with men who are just waiting for him to surrender his better judgement to a glass of wine, then steal whatever is left. He always thought Aegon would likely die with his pants on his knees, possible covered in vomit and other fluids, choking on a chicken bone, or something as meaningless as a cherry pit, his women would steal his gold and he'd die slowly, lonely, pathetically, he had to say the idea did not displeased him too much

>But then, he could only cash his prize if he retrieved him, in one piece no less

>Aegon had returned, being almost locked up in his chambers, and the death of Viserys continued a secret to the world until the preparations for Aegon's ascension were finished. By the third day, the corpse of his father started to stink, he had already been rotting in life, and death was not stopping that. He looked at the king, he found him graceless, he had nothing, he was an absent king and absent father, Aemond would do better if he had the chance

>A couple hours after Aegon's arrival, you had woken up, almost immediately you were taken from your room and (to your perspective) randomly put on another, the maids insisted it was for your safety, and you decided to not waste a breath asking them questions that were for someone else. You wanted to see Alicent, and you wanted to see Viserys

>No one would give you answers, and you had no way of communicating with your family, not your father or even your family in the castle, for that matter, you only had ser Criston as a form of familiarity, not even your usual maids were to be seen anywhere. Even though you did not wish to think of it, it was probably because Aegon had chosen them to place his "affections"

>The second night you were awake and isolated, you commanded sir Criston to come into your room and talk to you, give you whatever detail of information he had. He refused again and again, with excuses of how he answered to the queen only, how he was to the door to protect you, how it was improper

>But he ended up giving in

>He told you all he could say, was that the king had died, and that now a conflict of ink and ravens was arising

>You wept the lost of your uncle, and (awkwardly) ser Criston put a hand on your shoulder, ghosting over it. And he told you to fear not, you were in good hands

>You wanted to believe him, you did

>Back to Aemond, he had come to speak with his mother as soon as he was done arranging your room transfer. He felt accomplished by commanding, especially when commanding for your well-being. Alicent knew what Aemond would ask for, and she had tried to ready herself to hear it

>"I want lady Y/N, wed her to me" he did little to stop the smile growing on his lips

>Alicent could have said many things, but she just asked her son one thing. "Do you understand the consequences, Aemond?"

>He nodded, he did not care, if the consequences of taking you were fire and blood, so be it. Never in the seven kingdoms had existed a more lovely lady, and Aemond was only blind in one eye

>He wanted to marry her before Aegon's crowning, and he had threatened to get the supreme septon to do it in secret if he had to, he was smart, and knew it was just a matter of time before Daemon and Rhaenyra caught wind of everything, and he will not lose you

>Daeron had come to face him, Aemond never thought he had the balls to do it

>Whining about his lack of honor, how he was stealing their cousin, dragging them when she was practically engaged to him already

>Aemond let his anger simmer, he smiled while the boiling blood warmed his body, the delicious liquid reminding he was alive, he lived for the taste of rage, his or from others

>"Worry not, little brother, you can now take your vows as a white cloak, so you can become my wife's sworn sword and stand behind her door when she and I share our bedchamber"

>Daeron reached for his sword, he did the same

>"Uh uh, are you sure?" He teased while Daeron seemed on the verge of tears (sadness, ire, who knows)

>His younger brother simply walked away from him, in shame

>You were losing your mind in confusion, and no tantrums from you were enough for the servants to let you leave your chambers to visit Viserys' corpse

>So imagine your surprise when the maids came with shiny new silks, to dress you for your wedding day

>Two ladies, one named Olivya Swann and one named Celesse Hightower, announced themselves as your new ladies in waiting. They said your measures were needed to confect a wedding gown for you, you refused to strip until they spoke and told you what was going on, you felt bad for them, as they were clearly not the ones to blame for the mayhem

>It took a while, the maids genuinely did not know much, the orders came from above and they obeyed. But it was Celesse who finally broke down. They were sent to aid the preparations for your wedding to prince Aemond

>You had to sit down on the bed, your head was spinning around, now there was nothing to do, you were a prisoner in King's Landing. And it was easy to put two and two together, they were not planning to bend the knee to Rhaenyra, and you were there as a pawn in their twisted game of chess

>You yelled at the women to leave you alone, and despite their attempts to calm you down, you ordered them to go. You knew they would come back later, but you simply could not stand there like nothing was happening

>How could Alicent allow this? If they wanted to marry you to the greens, why Aemond? It was clear you and Daeron had far more in common, and comments were made about betrothing you to him, why Aemond?

>Aemond was cruel, and you could never decipher what he wanted from you, he took pleasure on hurting your family, and you were further perplexed on why would he want to marry a bastard

>Maybe he was being forced to marry you too, it would have made you almost sympathetic if it were not for his previous actions

>You tried to sleep, you layed fully dressed on the bed without covering yourself with the blankets

>You dreamt of nothing, and were awaken once again by the maids looking to measure you

>They came in, and helped you undress as to avoid the measures be altered by the thick of your clothing

>You were sleepy and docile, allowing them to carefully place the meter in your waist, bust, hips and shoulders, they also measured your arms

>Olivya presented you with squares of several luxury fabrics, one stack was several shades of white, and the other was a similar amount of shades of green.

>You did not let the opportunity slip, this would probably be the one choice you would have on your marriage

>You made your ladies show you each and every square of fabric, you took all the time in the world. Finally, the chosen ones were pearl white with emerald and laurel green. The colors reminded you of your dragon, you missed him so much, but the gods only know where he could be, he was too large for the dragonpit and therefore set free, he would have come to your calling once you left with your family, that was what was supposed to happen

>You spent three more days locked away, at least you had Olivya and Celesse now. Celesse came from Oldtown, she was the daughter of Hobert Hightower, you made her tell you stories of Daeron, as you were unable to see him. You fondly smiled when thinking of him, your dragon knight

>Olivya was from the stormlands, but she had been raised in King's Landing, as her uncle was serving in court, and she was brought to keep company to princess Helaena

>You told them of Pentos, then of Dragonstone, you told them of your little brothers, so small and cute, you also told them about dragons, you told them about your home, in all its meaning

>Three days after the measuring, the wedding gown was ready, you were amazed, and wondered how many people had been working in full speed in order to complete such an intricate piece in so little time. There was pearls and little gems embroided in the translucent sleeves, a green dress, a beautiful Hightower green dress

>Celesse spoke highly of your soon-to-be husband, telling tales of his skill with the sword and his intelligence

>Olivya told you you would enjoy married life, that the prince was a fine suitor with "admirable manners"

>You remained silent, luckily, your saddened face was covered by a white veil

>What you saw could hardly be called a ceremony, there was Alicent, Aemond and a septon. You slowly walked towards the altar, and recited the vows you had learned when fantasizing as a little girl, none of your fantasies happened this way

>Like always, Aemond was unreadable, and you did not care to try to read him anymore

>There was no feast, no celebration, nothing remotely similar to the wedding ceremony of a prince

>Like everything around the castle, it was rushed, poorly done and with second intentions behind it

>You struggled to look at Alicent, she was dear to you once, but now you debate whether should you trust her

>During the dreaded wedding night, you expected Aemond to humiliate you, to take you by force and call you names, to degrade you

>Anxiety pooled in your stomach, and your eyes burned as you tried to hold tears in

>But instead, he kissed your hand and laid next to you, not even touching you

>You must disgust him, he was forced to marry you, and he has no interest in you, you thought you found yourself in the position of Rhea Royce

>But you could speak plainly to Aemond, you always had

>"An unconsummated marriage can be easily annulled" you pointed out

>"You don't sound at all aroused with the idea, you appear hardly seductive" Aemond replied

>Aemond sat down on the bed, you copied him

>"I am not Aegon, I found screams for help less than enticing. Besides, you would never love me if I raped you" he stated as if he was talking about his day

>"Who says I love you now?" Maybe you should have not been so bold, but you were

>"We are married, you'll learn to do it eventually"

>"As humble as ever. Then let me ask why I should I love you, and you are free not to"

>"I love you, Y/N" you could feel the scorching heat coming from his eye, the sapphire shone in the candlelight. You were speechless, it would have been hard to believe if he wasn't gazing at you so intensely, he carefully took your hand in his

>"You have not acted as such" was the only thing you thought to answer

>"I am not Daeron" your eyes widen in shame. It is not unfaithfulness, yet shame makes you feel as if it is "But again, you have not treated me like you treated Daeron, have you?" He knew what he was doing to you

>"He never called me a bastard"

>Despite the topics of conversation, you both remained calmed, vulnerable in the cocoon of the sheets, your hand was still intertwined with his

>"Neither have I" he squeezed your hand a little

>"But you continue to humiliate Jace, Luke and Joffrey for it"

>"And I paid with my eye. And with you" you look at him confused after he says that, so he continues "After I bonded with Vhagar, you pushed me away, you never forgave me for it"

>"You never asked for forgiveness"

>"And I will not, not for what I did, but perhaps the way I did it"

>You and your husband talked for what it felt like days, for what it felt like years of lost time

>By the hour of the nightingale, you felt like you married one man and now lay with another. Despite his hardened exterior, you now smile at Aemond the way you did once when you were children

>"We still have time to make this wedding night exciting, my lady wife" he smiled mischievously, you looked at him with slight distrust, hoping he was not expecting sex after all that heartfelt talk "would do me the honor of flying with me?" You smiled

>"Dagahrion is not here"

>"There's plenty of room in Vhagar, I ride the largest dragon in the world"

>"You clearly have not seen mine lately" you teased

>"I suppose we'll have to clear that matter once he returns"

>You dressed up and sneaked into the dragonpit, this kind of mischief made you think of happier days, made you forget about the mess

>You missed Vhagar, she used to be Laena's, and she remembered you

>You rode with Aemond until sunrise, in that moment it was just the three of you. No marriage, no usurpation, no conflicts, nothing but the wind in your faces

>Until you had to come back, and you found the preparations for Aegon's coronation being set in place

>"This is outrageous, disgraceful, illicit! This is simply- this is bullshit, Aemond!" You shouted to him once alone "Aegon will be the worst king since Maegor and you know that"

>"I am not the one who sat him on that throne, don't you shout at me for it"

>"It's true, but you are not doing anything to stop it, Rhaenyra should be crowned"

>"Of, course, then Jacaerys Strong can become protector of the realm" he snickered sarcastically

>"May his father be Ser Harwin, Laenor or the damn mushroom, we are sure he is of Rhaenyra and that is what matters"

>"If he was born of Rhaenyra's husband then it truly would not matter if his sire is mushroom or whoever may he be, he is a bastard"

>"So am I! Appoint me leader of the bastard council If you want, because I will defend his claim to the throne, Rhaenyra is the heir and you and I know Aegon is a depraved drunk"

>"Bastard or not, you are my wife, and I will not argue anymore, you are mine now. And when you are called, I want you pretty and smiling when witnessing his coronation, because your husband says so" you had not even realized when he had caged you against the wall, his eyes burning with rage. No trace left of the man you spent last night with

>"Yes, my prince" was all you said. He nodded, kissed your forehead and left the room

>Your father used to call the court "the nest of vipers" and now you understand, the only way to survive was playing their game

>You called in for Olivya and Celesse. Told them to dress you and arrange you to attend Aegon's coronation

>You were pleasant, smiling when you had to, staying right at your husband's side, one may think of you as tame

>You even let Aemond fancy himself your hero, standing before you when Meleys interrumpted the ceremony

>Rhaenys looked at you, you knew she could not steal you away from this, so in her eyes, you imagined her apology

>You decided you will come back to your family, and so, after Aegon's coronation, you told Alicent you needed to go to the Sept, being so throughly shaken. As Aemond said you needed to be guarded all day long, you asked for Daeron to accompany you. Aemond would have never allowed it, but Aemond was not there, he was with the small council talking about recruiting the loyalty of different houses

>Once in the Sept, after praying, you looked at Daeron, it pained you to ask

>"Do you love me, Daeron?"

>"You are married to my brother, my lady"

>"We know what happened. And I did not ask you that"

>"It is improper for us to talk this way"

>You felt rejected, but once again asked "Do you love me, Daeron?"

>"I do" he bashfully responded

>"Enough to run away with me?"

>"Don't make me choose between honor and love"

>"I fear I have to"

>"Enough to run away with you"

>"Then meet me at the dragonpit at the hour of the bat"

>"Y/N, please-"

>"I will run regardless, but I would rather you are with me"

>You rose from your knees looking at him

>He came closer, your lips were near, but not touching, you could feel his breath

>"Kiss me once we're far away, do whatever you desire then" you say before leaving the Sept

>You decided to wait in the library until it was time to go, on your way, ser Criston asked if he could scort you there, you were reluctant, but skillfully lied and said it would be a pleasure

>"My lady, may I speak plainly to you?"

>"You have my permission"

>"I saw you asked for prince Daeron to accompany you in your prayers. Please don't look for him, he loves you, my lady" he made a melancholic pause, and again, his hand ghosted over your shoulder, his face close to yours "And noble ladies only run away with the knights in tales and songs"

>"I understand"

>Ser Criston's words left you with a strange feeling, he seemed sincere, did he know something you did not? Maybe you should wait before running, maybe you should find a better way to do it

>But you remained firm, and slipped out of bed once Aemond was asleep

>You went to the dragonpit, singing to the dragons, and hoping for Dagahrion to come back, if not, you'd have to leave on Tessarion

>You heard steps, thinking it was the dragonkeepers, you hid

>"Riñaaa~" you heard Aemond's voice, and you feared. You don't know if he would be capable of doing you harm, but you'd rather keep wondering

>His voice kept chasing you, in a mocking tone

>Until he finally found you

>You were a the center, and you felt the gazes of the dragons, but by far the fiercest one was Aemond's

>He pressed you against the wall, his sword unsheathed

>His body was pressed against yours, you felt him practically vibrating with wrath

>"I have wanted you for years, yet I held back, I was patient and devoted, and you run away at the first chance you get" he spat

>"I guess we had a rocky two-day marriage" if you were dying, you were doing it with your head high

>"I should have broke you, but I was a fool" it was all tension, you did not know if he would snap, or when would he, and kill you or gravely injure you

>He grabbed your face with his sword still pressing and threatening to break your skin

>He kissed you roughly, like he wanted to mark you as well as harm you, like he was tasting both heaven and steel

>When you were recovering your breath, you spoke "will you slay me?"

>"I will take you back and treat you like the backstabbing bastard cunt you are, the way I should always have" you knew this was probably the last time you will be like this, unbroken, whole

>You missed him back, tasting all the poison inside him, it was messy, rough, teeth crashing, you took him like he was your last breath. You were just saving courage

>All that could be heard was your labored breathing, Aemond's sword never moving. You felt an ache in your chest, you were scared. You wished for the mother, the celestial mother, the one that never left you, unlike every other woman you had though of as a mother. You wished for your father, although violent and rude, unpredictable and sour, he loved you with his whole heart, body and soul

>Maybe you were just going to make a fool of yourself, you hoped so, that Aemond would just laugh at you

>You took a breath of the second-hand air, smoky and anything but clean, and when your lungs were full, you screamed so loud your throat felt raspy

>"Dracarys!"

>Dragons obey their masters, and Dagahrion was not here, so it would work, supposedly

>The last thing you saw was the startled face of your husband when all the dragons around you spat scorching hot fire and burned both bodies

>Less than an hour later, prince Daeron found your remains. Some dragonkeepers said your voice commanded all the dragons to attack, others say that it was impossible, that it must have been Vhagar trying to kill you by Aemond's command, accidentally getting caught in-between

>The death of lady Y/N Targaryen, daughter of prince Daemon Targaryen, [allegedly] at hands of her own husband, Aemond Targaryen made the dance of dragons a conflict of fire and blood

[achaoticeternal]

a presentation

word count: 750 summary: finding aemond admiring the throne once more, you tell him of your wish to simply be his wife again a/n: just a quick drabble to get some writing going again. not proofread. this is based off the song the greatest by billie eilish

All my love and patience Unappreciated You said your heart was jaded You couldn't even break it

The mass of swords welded together to form the Iron Throne loomed over the Throne Room. Its' magnificence was equally spectacular yet terrifying. An item that represented unity and obedience melded together by fire and death.

It was a seat many had craved over time. Yet she saw the jagged edges that had nicked King Viserys, then Aegon... and soon Aemond would be subjected to it. She had dreamed of it only nights prior.

Her husband ascends the Throne before a mass of nobles and common folk alike. A wolfish smile invades the faces of those surrounding them. Yet when he took his seat with the Conqueror's crown high on his silken hair, an undulled sword from the arm of the chair would slice his palm open. The princess had felt it an omen, an even darker one after Meleys had been carted through the street. The dream was the only thing to replay in her mind as she approached where Aemond now stood. His eyes flickered our the steel of swords stuck together permanently. She always sensed his hunger for power and prayed that his thirst did not come at the cost of blood or their marriage. But the gods paid little favor to them. "It is late," She called out to him, "We should be sleeping." Aemond hummed, acknowledging her comment. He cocked his head to the side, not quite looking at her as his eye remained fixated on the Throne, "We shall be standing up there tomorrow."

The princess swallowed, only to take another step forward as she responded, "You. You will be up there tomorrow. I will be perched next to your mother or Helaena. Either hearing prayers for Aegon's ailments or your ascension." A small, playful smirk painted his lips, "I'm sure I could order a seat to be placed near my feet. So that I may present to the court all my prizes: the Throne, the Crown, the perfect Wife."

Her lips tugged downward, disgust lining her stomach, "Will you dress me and braid my hair too? Paint my face to make my skill look porcelain?"

The Prince Regent finally turned to face her, "Do not use such a tone with me, wife. You have nothing to complain about as I have built you a perfect life." The air between them went stagnant as her eyes remained fixed on them. You face betrayed nothing of what you felt which shocked your husband. He had always been able to read you so plainly, it was something he even enjoyed in your relationship.

"A perfect life?" The princess repeated her words, "Will you put me in a glass display and title it 'A Perfect Life?'?

Aemond's jaw tightened and he took a great step toward her, "I have proven myself to be the greatest Targaryen since Maegor himself and yet you look at me like a villain. This will make people see. This will make people fear me and regret their spineless actions. Now they have no choice but to love and respect their new King."

"And yet I did all of that when you were just Aemond," She barked back at him, her own hurt and anger slipping through, "I respected you, I listened to you, I loved you... for just being a prince- no, just being a boy." "Wife, I-" He attempted to interject.

"I am not finished," The princess stopped him, "I have played the part of your wife, perfectly. I provided you with love, comfort, hospitality, my spirit, my body. I never asked for you to give more of yourself than you could because I knew what a fragile heart you keep locked away. But I am not some pet or doll to be displayed as another prize of your ambition. I am your wife, and you could at least let me enjoy that duty. I only ever wanted to show you love."

At her speech, Aemond had fallen silent. His hands rested behind hs back, silently fidgeting with his leather cuffs. All was still.

"It is late," Aemond finally spoke, "You should get some rest. I will join you in our chambers when I have wrapped up my duties for the evening."

"Very well," The princess swallowed back her pain, once more feeling powerless. She turned on her heels and exited.

I shouldn't have to say it You could've been the greatest

[cherrifire]

I love making the Life series more dramatic than it really is so let's talk about it.

The thing with Scott and Martyn as a duo that interests me this season has to do with what we as a fanbase have defined as a "curse". The curses given to players by the fanbase are built on pure coincidence. Example: Jimmy always being first out. We have no idea if this will happen this season and it feels unlikely to happen a 4th time. However, for Scott and Martyn's curses, one of them will break their curse and the other will fall victim to it again.

Obviously, I'd like to remind the court that these are just coincidences. This series isn't scripted, everything that happens is unplanned so how on Earth could I predict anything to hold true here?

Let's start with Scott, shall we? If you find yourself as Scott's closest ally you are DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE!!! So far, Scott out lives all his closest partners.

3rd life, Jimmy died before Scott.

Last life, Pearl died before Scott.

Double life, Cleo died before Scott.

Meaning Martyn is doomed to lose too, right? Not necessarily.

Looking at Martyn's curse, it is basically the same as Scott's. Martyn devotes himself to one person or a whole nation and will always outlive them.

3rd life, Ren died before Martyn and most of Dogwarts also falls with only BigB remaining once Martyn is gone.

Last life, every other Southlander died before Martyn.

Double life, Cleo died before Martyn.

So really, neither of them are at a higher risk than the other. It sort of feels like it... just balances out really. One of them will die before the other. One will break their curse and the other will be doomed for yet another season to watch the ones they care for die.

[Cutting the curtains for a moment, they both have this curse probably because they're both survivors. Scott and Martyn have gotten pretty high placings each season due to their intense and obvious attempts to stay alive. Scott getting 10th, 1st, and then 2nd. Martyn getting 6th, 3rd, and then 3rd again. So I think they're a very good duo this season and I like their chances to atleast place high.]

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance - The Bodyguard (ii)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER II: The Bodyguard

SUMMARY: The Night Court must decide who shall remain to protect the Daughter of Autumn, while also getting to know the princess with a fiery soul.

WARNINGS: More misogyny! yay! mentions of alcohol, tw: beron (we all hate him its ok), people talking shit behind y/n's back, probably swearing i can't remember (also i just swore in the warning so like... it's possible), daddy issues!

NOTE: once again special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for reading over my work! <33

WORDS: 2K

Sitting in the quarters Beron had assigned to the Night Court guests, the inner circle debated how to approach this situation they had found themselves in. 

One of them was to play bodyguard for the Princess of the Autumn Court. Of course, there were many logistics to sort out, ranging from the most obvious one – who would be the assigned bodyguard – to smaller details, such as whether they needed more than one Night Court member to remain in Autumn.

“I’m telling you, they’re a bunch of snakes,” Cassian said firmly. “We can’t just leave one person behind. What if this is a ploy?”

“That is true,” Feyre mused, “but why bother to make a ploy at all? We fought in the war together, and an unprovoked attack against the Night Court would cause another war. And Beron must know that the other courts would be on our side.”

Amren sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Cassian. We can’t trust these people.”

Azriel stayed silent, mulling it all over. It was all true — fighting for the same side in the war had brought the courts together, but then again, there were people like Eris and his brothers lurking in this court.

A soft knock on the door prompted everyone to look towards the sound. After a moment, the door opened, revealing Eris, a small smile on his face.

“It is lovely to see you all in a different scenery,” Eris commented after he had closed the door.

“Eris,” Rhysand greeted. “How can we help you?”

Eris went ahead and took a seat in a scarlet chair beside the fireplace, relaxing with ease. Azriel supposed it would be easier to do so now that he was in his own home, but the sight still frustrated the shadowsinger.

“I just wanted to see what you all thought of my father’s… proposition,” Eris said casually.

“Did you know?” Cassian questioned.

Eris shrugged. “I did tell you that it had something to do with my sister.”

“There was an attempt on her life, which you failed to mention,” Azriel stated.

Eris just smiled calmly. “Must have slipped my mind.”

This was exactly what Cassian had been talking about before, Azriel knew. They were cunning and sly in the Autumn Court, and that made them dangerous.

“Anything else that may have ‘slipped your mind’?” Azriel inquired.

Eris turned his gaze to the shadowsinger, a small smirk on his face. Azriel wanted to punch the male, and he remembered the feel of his neck beneath his hands, and how close he could have come to killing the heir before him. He sort of wished he had.

“My father has already chosen which member of your court he wants as Y/n’s bodyguard,” Eris revealed.

Azriel blinked. Despite the fact that Beron had given them the illusion of free choice, of course the male had already decided. After looking at Eris expectantly, Rhysand realised the male would not freely give up this information.

“Who?” the High Lord asked.

Eris glanced at Azriel. “The shadowsinger, of course.”

Everyone looked at Azriel, and the Illyrian wanted to shrink away from the attention. Why him? Yes, perhaps he appeared more gentlemanly than Cassian, as he knew how to keep his mouth shut, but what else? Yes, he was the Spymaster for the Night Court, but Cassian was the general of the armies. Amren terrified everyone, and yes, she’d be more than capable to be a bodyguard, but then again, Amren might kill the princess if she annoyed her.

“Why Azriel?” Rhys questioned.

Eris looked at the High Lord as if he was incompetent. “Is he not the most obvious choice? That one–” he nodded to Cassian, “–has already tainted a female promised to the Autumn Court.”

Rage, icy cold, flowed through Azriel at the implications behind Eris's words. ‘A female promised to the Autumn Court’ was very obviously Mor, and the entitlement in his tone…

“First of all, I have a mate–” Cassian growled, but Rhysand cut him off.

“Let's not argue,” the High Lord said firmly, although silent fury shone in his eyes at Eris's words. “We're all allies here.”

Eris rolled his eyes but said nothing more, and Cassian glared at the Autumn Court heir, clearly imagining all the ways he could rip him apart.

“Didn't Azriel try to kill you at the High Lord's meeting?” Amren mused.

Eris glowered at the female. “Well, we certainly can't have you here. Your mere presence makes the courtiers uneasy.”

“I did save your asses during the war,” Amren reminded him, but she seemed more than pleased that she still terrified people. 

Azriel let out a breath. He had guessed that it would be himself who would have to play bodyguard, but how could he do so when his job was one of utmost importance to the Night Court? Even now, with Nyx only half a year old, there were so many threats that needed to be uncovered and eliminated.

Azriel glanced at Rhysand and Feyre. Both had been reluctant to leave their son behind for a week, but they knew it would be much too dangerous to bring him to the Autumn Court. Nesta, Elain, and Mor had promised to take care of him while they were gone, and Nyx was probably having the time of his life with his Aunts.

What do you think? Rhys asked Azriel, mind to mind.

Azriel pondered his answer for a moment. I would be willing to do it, but to leave you without a Spymaster for the Cauldron knows how long…

I think we can manage for a little while, Rhys replied, a grin twinkling in his eyes.

Azriel nodded his confirmation. It was true — his court members were not truly useless without him. Just slightly disadvantaged, but they knew how to take care of themselves.

“I'll do it,” Azriel said aloud.

Cassian looked at his brother, eyes widened slightly with silent warning. Amren appeared disinterested in the conversation, but Azriel knew she was listening to every word. Eris simply nodded, as if he already knew Azriel would agree.

“Good,” Eris replied. “I will allow you to share the news with my father in your own time.”

The heir then got up and exited the room, leaving the Night Court members by themselves.

“I need a drink,” Amren muttered.

The following week was a whirlwind. Every morning, afternoon, and evening, the Night Court members dined with the Autumn Court, and the Autumn Court members also showed them their home. It was mostly Y/n showing them around the palace and the grounds, with Autumn guards trailing closely behind.

Y/n was a different person when she was not around her father. She was much more talkative, and quick to joke and tease. After a few days, it was clear that Cassian adored the princess and her witty comebacks, and she clearly enjoyed the freedom of banter with him. It was almost as if they were destined to be best friends. But whenever any member of her family was present, she would go quiet, and exhibit “lady-like” speech and actions.

Azriel had heard many of the Autumn Court’s opinions of her through his shadows, and none of them were particularly fond. Wild, untamed, unlady-like, and irritating, were the words most commonly used to describe the princess in secret, but Azriel had a feeling she did not care what she thought about them. He could tell that she only cared what her father thought — perhaps not for praise, but rather in fear of punishment.

“So, have you decided which of you will be protecting me after this week?” she asked the Night Court members as they walked through the Royal apple orchard. The apples were the finest Azriel had ever tasted, and he wondered whether there was some kind of magic behind it to make them so.

“We have discussed it,” Rhysand replied, plucking an apple from a tree and handing it to his mate. Feyre took the apple with a smile.

Y/n sighed deeply. “I wish I could go to the Night Court with you. It sounds beautiful.”

While the Night Court members had told the princess a little bit about their home, the Autumn daughter was an avid reader, and had mentioned that she’d always been interested in The Night Court. She would read any book on their court a hundred times, and had learned about Starfall, Illyrians, and many other Night Court customs. When Rhys questioned her on the books she had read, she had become slightly evasive in her answers.

“I borrowed them,” Y/n had said casually.

Azriel had raised an eyebrow. “Borrowed, or stole?”

The grin the princess threw his way had set his heart racing, but he had no idea why. “I prefer the term 'mischievously possess.’”

Cassian had barked out a laugh, and even Amren had smiled slightly.

But as well as spending time with the princess, Azriel had other things to do. When she showed him the castle, he memorised it. He marked every exit, window, door, hiding place — everything. If he was to be her bodyguard, he would have to have the entire layout memorised. For her protection, but also for his. He didn’t doubt for one second that if he let his guard down, one of her brothers, maybe even Eris himself, would try to stab him in the back. Literally.

Eventually, the week came to an end, and the members of the Night Court gathered in the Autumn Court throne room. Azriel supposed that bonds had been slightly strengthened between the courts, but not by much. Mistrust was hard to get rid of, especially when there were centuries and generations of it.

“We have come to a decision,” Rhy told Beron, his hands resting in his pockets. “And my High Lady and I shall allow you to employ one of my warriors as your daughter’s bodyguard.”

Beron nodded, his gaze flicking to Azriel for a brief moment before going back to Rhys. “And have you decided which warrior shall be protecting my daughter?”

That glance told Azriel that Eris had been telling the truth. Beron hoped that it was the shadowsinger who would be playing bodyguard, and it made sense now. Although what didn’t make sense was the fact that Eris had not lied.

“Azriel shall remain behind to guard your daughter,” Rhys promised. 

“Wonderful,” Beron said with a nod. “Thank you for this, Rhysand. The Autumn Court shall never forget this favour.”

Rhys nodded at the High Lord, and both of them shook hands, their goodbye quick and brief. The Night Court's goodbyes to Azriel were lengthy in comparison.

“Stay safe,” Rhys told Az, clapping him on the back. “Our mental bridge will be open at all times. Let me know if there’s any trouble.”

“You act as if I can’t take care of myself,” Azriel replied, a half smirk on his face.

Rhys rolled his eyes and brought his brother into a hug, the eyes on them be damned. When Rhys pulled away, Cassian was there next, squeezing the shadowsinger into a hug that nearly crushed his bones.

“I’ll miss you, Azzie,” Cassian whispered in Azriel’s ear, which set him scowling. Cassian grinned and pulled away, Feyre replacing him. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek in farewell, and before Az knew it, the Night Court disappeared into the void, leaving him alone in the Autumn Court.

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[samstree]

The bandage comes off, and Geralt sees the scar for the first time in a mirror on Jaskier’s desk. His face is blurry in the reflection, but the jagged, angry thing is unmistakable, running across his left eye and reaching the middle of his cheek. A souvenir, from the cockatrice’s claw.

“Fitting look,” Geralt murmurs, “for a monster.”

Perhaps it’s the lingering ache in his body, the discomfort of the half-healed scar, or the blood loss he hasn’t quite recovered from, but the sentence slips out. Geralt didn’t mean for it to happen—he’s learned not to in Jaskier’s presence, even if he whispers the truth in the darkest corners of his mind.

���Do you know what I’d do to those who dare to use that word on you?” Jaskier warns, taking Geralt’s arm and guiding him back to the bed. He towers over Geralt like this, lips pressed into a thin line. “The barkeep the other day? Ran off with a broken nose. That rude Baron at court? The old sod no longer has a court. Some dirt came out. He got chased out of his own land and left penniless, last I heard.” He recounts patiently, voice flat. “A student of mine attempted a cheeky joke once. He was near crying when he left my office. If not, the thirty-page additional essay on the history of nonhumans would have done it.”

Jaskier holds himself tall and proud, the stone-cold protectiveness behind his eyes an impenetrable wall. Geralt suddenly feels a little scared. Just a little bit, but enough for him to fall in love all over again.

“Hmm.” Geralt looks up, catching Jaskier’s piercing eyes. “What punishment shall I receive, then?”

Jaskier only studies him, squinting hard. The serious expression makes Geralt think he is about to get another lecture on not putting himself down, and he silently braces for it. An angry dressing-down from Jaskier is no joke. The teenage boy at Oxenfurt had no idea what hit him.

But Geralt’s breath catches when Jaskier lifts his chin with one finger. A gentle kiss lands on his eyebrow, right where the claw mark begins.

The scar tissue tingles under Jaskier’s soft lips, oversensitive but not painful. Geralt closes his eyes as Jaskier trails down, peppering small kisses on his eyelid, and then along the shape of the scar. When their lips meet, the kiss remains chaste. Jaskier simply kisses him softly, again, and again, until Geralt is breathless with emotions.

Jaskier pulls away after what feels like a lifetime, humming contently. He still observes Geralt with a defiant look.

“There. Fitting punishment,” he whispers, “for you.”

Jaskier’s finger slips away, and Geralt is left woozy for a long time. The scar now feels too tender, but for completely different reasons.

It must still be the blood loss, he reckons.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 17

Revelations In Tønsberg | Loki x Reader

Thor accompanies you and Loki back to Tønsberg and a warm welcome from the Asgardian court. A far cry from the golden luxury of the The Golden Palace of the gods, but certainly more homey. The villagers get to know you better and secrets are revealed.

Warnings: 18+ for language & sexual content. Dirty talk, prince/princess kink? (is that a thing?), p in v to make up for the parental issues I'm exorcising in this fic. Rated D for Daddy issues and C for cosy.

A/N: what do you mean it's summer? No I obviously didn't slip on my timeline for posting by like 6 months I don't know what you're talking about.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics , @reveriesources and me.

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

Your second journey by Bifrost was no more bearable than the first, leaving your head swimming and your stomach roiling as you came to a stop. 

Thor laughed heartily and slapped Loki on the back, exchanging jovial words about your trist at the Golden Palace, no doubt. The god seemed to have no filter and no qualms about discussing your private life, even in the open square of Tønsberg. 

With a gentle hand on your back, Loki led you forwards, your eyes still on the cobblestones while you attempted to get your bearings without being sick. 

“Welcome back!” Brunnhilde’s voice carried across the harbour and you finally took the opportunity to take in your surroundings. In your haste to get away from the Avengers you had forgotten what had happened the last time you walked along the sea front of Tønsberg and suddenly it all came swimming back. The queasy feeling in your stomach intensified. “I worried we’d never see you hear again,” she strode across the sea soaked front, her arms wide and welcoming, “but we are happy to welcome you back.” 

Thor opened his arms in return, beaming and ready to embrace the King of Asgard, but she bypassed him entirely and wrapped her arms around your middle, pulling you away from Loki and lifting your toes off the ground with the ferocity of her embrace. 

“It’s good to see you as well, Brunnhilde.” The panic that had begun to rise ebbed away, and then there was another pressure at your back and Thor enveloped you in a bear hug, squeezing you into Brunnhilde. 

“Loki’s little trouble maker, back in Tønsberg, I am so happy.” He thrilled, resting his cheek on top of your head and rubbing your arms. “I always wanted a sister-” he paused, “well, a sister that didn’t want to destroy everything -” You both went still as you remembered the prophecy left by Frigga. Thor floundered for words. “Anyway, we shall feast and drink and celebrate your return, I am sure. You are most welcome.”

“That’s quite enough,” Loki coughed, finding your hand again and guiding you, now slightly ruffled, back to his side. You stood on your tip toes and placed a wet kiss on his cheek, nuzzling him with your nose. 

“Don’t be jealous,” you teased, and his arm around you tightened. 

“Jealous? I am not jealous, I am concerned. I left you here once and -” 

 Jealous 

You allowed the thought to float to him and watched as his eyes darkened. 

I am not jealous of that oaf, merely protective. Surely that is allowed after two kidnapping attempts. 

Brunnhilde’s eyes drifted from Loki to your face, watching as it dropped and your shoulders tensed, “-let’s not concern ourselves with the past. Let’s look to the future, come inside we just finished a council meeting so the hall is empty.” She turned and led the way towards the long hall, pulling her suit jacket tight around her middle against the biting wind whipping from the sea. While it’d been cold in America, here it was icy, but before you could shiver you felt the ring of Loki’s magic and a navy blue peacoat engulfed you, the inside already warm. You looked over at Loki, surprised that he wouldn’t put you in his own colours, and he merely smiled, looking out on the sea and pretending he hadn’t noticed your new attire, but you couldn’t help but notice the twinkle of emerald green in each shining button. 

You looked out too, seeing the waves on the horizon cresting and falling, the gulls circling the frothing water and steadied yourself to take in Tønsberg with fresh eyes. 

At your first visit, you’d visited Brunnhilde’s cottage, tucked away two streets back from the harbour, inconspicuous and modest. Now she was leading you towards the long, low building that stood in the centre of the main thoroughfare opposite the harbour. Above the door there was a symbol, tall lines forming a pyramid in a strangely familiar way. 

Asgard’s Palace 

Loki looked up too, taking your hand, this is the new symbol of Asgard and our rebuilt court. Welcome, Princess. 

Princess. You hadn’t considered your role here either, that you weren’t just a visitor, but a royal visitor, at the pleasure of the Royal court, small as it was, modest as the Long Hall appeared. And your heart swelled with pride and belonging. Loki squeezed your hand again, the same pride reflected in his eyes. 

You looked around again, viewing the village with fresh eyes. 

Behind the village itself, building work had started on further homes and the dock, which on your previous visit only held a few fishing boats, was full of tourist vessels bobbing next to wooden row boats. 

Thor opened the door of the long building, waving his arm for you to enter.

“Welcome to the Asgardian Court, Princess Estrid.” Thor bowed as you passed and you heard the unmistakable sound of Loki smacking him playfully on the back of the head as he followed. 

Inside the hall was reassuringly simple and looked very much like the village halls you had seen once or twice during your time in London. The noticeboard was full of flyers for music lessons, hobby groups and items for sale, a few images of a village fete and a sign up list for organising events had a few scrawled names, but no contact details. You sighed in relief, half expecting to be thrown back into the excess of the Golden Palace alongside its rules and regulations. But life in the Long Hall seemed much more relaxed and familiar.  

A few people were moving chairs around, stacking them at the edges of the room, calling to each other as they worked. The smell of brewing tea and freshly baked biscuits wafted from the open hatch to the kitchen where a group of older Asgardians carefully placed doilies on trays and arranged mugs. 

The only out of place item was a blue and gold velvet curtain that decorated a dais at one end of the room. Even in the winter light the floor to ceiling windows let in enough light to make the gold brocade shine. 

“Sorry, it’s - King stuff, you know?” Brunnhilde shrugged, almost embarrassed by the pdecadence of the set u[, and waved to another Asgardian in the kitchen, holding her hand up and mouthing drinking, a chorus of ‘just a minute’ responded and before you knew it there was a table set in the middle of the hall, drinks and food covering the surface. 

“By Loki’s face I’m assuming this is more than a social call,” Brunnhilde asked, pouring a large cup of tea into a pint sized mug with Authentic Asgardian Mead printed on the side. 

“Wise as ever,” Loki smiled, “we have come to ask you more questions about Estrid.” Under the table he took your hand, twining your fingers together. “We met another god, claiming to know her, he attempted to kidnap her and - we heard a prophecy.” 

Brunnhilde lent into her chair, rocking it on its legs while Loki described your encounter during the Avenger’s mission and raising an eyebrow at his admission that a prophecy was involved. 

“Well, you’ve certainly been busy, I thought she’d keep you out of trouble, not get you into more of it.” She grinned and Thor laughed, shaking his brother’s shoulder. 

“She surely is Trouble,” Thor smiled indulgently, ruffling the top of your head. 

“But Loki says he couldn’t see him, he was tall, he had this spear -” suddenly it all bubbled to the surface and you had to get it out, everything you’d seen, what had happened. Between sips of the tea that appeared in front of you, you told Brunnhilde everything. 

“Lugh,” Brunnhilde said, thoughtfully, “it was a five pointed spear, correct?” 

You both nodded and Brunnhilde rocked her chair again, “definitely Lugh, and he knew your mother? And that you should go with him?” She raised an eyebrow again before looking away thoughtfully. 

“He said it over and over, he wanted me to go with him, and said it wasn’t safe for me.” The legs of her chair hit the floor with a thump. 

“And now tell me about the prophecy.” 

Loki took the marble from his pocket and placed the halves together again, releasing the voice of his mother into the room. The Asgardians fell silent, those still tidying from the council meeting stopped and bowed their heads at the memory of their fallen Queen. 

“I saw a vision of a flock in chaos, a singular lamb frolicked in its midst, a lamb with a fiery fleece. It has burnt the farm. But from the ashes rises lush land, strong crops and healthy babes. I have told this vision to my husband, and Lugh, he does not believe me when I say she is no threat, he believes this to be a prophecy of Ragnarok, he cannot see the verdant land beyond the fire. You must hide the girl, my friend, I can protect her no longer.” 

“Frigga,” Brunnhilde whispered, “she had many visions but, I can’t understand why you think this pertains to you?” She turned to you, studying your face. “We have no idea why Frigga sent this to Lugh, if you are the lamb mentioned or the girl. I do not see why he should be involved or concerned with you at all.”

“They were friends, were they not?” One of the villagers said from the kitchen, leaning through the hatch, “Lugh and Brigid, they were firm friends, often talking at the events. Frigga knew Lugh by associate as well. Perhaps that’s why?” 

“Yes, yes,” another agreed. “He was always chatting to the women folk, a kind, gentle man, never married himself mind.” Another dropped off a plate of kanelbulle, the deep scent of cinnamon wafting down the table. 

“Perhaps it’s time the girl heard all,” the time roughened voice came from behind you this time but there were many nods and noises of agreement throughout the room. 

Brunnhilde looked uncomfortable, but settled in her chair nonetheless. “Your mother was married to a man called Bres, a god of sorts who joined with your mother’s pantheon, he even became King, for a time. He was a Midgardian god as Odin was, residing in a place called the Otherworld. He was deeply unpopular, I didn’t want to upset you, when you visited before, you and Loki looked so happy I - I’m sorry. I should have told you, he was not a well liked God, but I wanted to spare you. Your mother though,” a ripple of happy sighs and murmers fluttered around the room and you were instantly self conscious. “She was very well liked, she visited Asgard many times.” 

“So… why did she marry this Bres? Is he my father?”  

“They didn’t love each other did they?” Tears welled in your eyes, for all your fears that you’d be sold into a loveless, political marriage, it had never occured to you that this fate had already befallen your mother. 

“No, I’m sorry, I believe that your mother, Brigid, loved another. Though I’m not sure who. But Bres is not your father, your mother was already pregnant, you see, when the marriage was arranged and you were born just before the ceremony. Your mother was a free spirit, she liked to travel and make friends, she brought back floral and fauna, stories and trinkets, art, crafts and, after a longer journey. You.” 

The four of you sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating what Brunnhilde had said. Bres really should have been your father and, officially, he was. But your mother didn’t love him and they weren’t married when you were born - your head swam with new information. 

“I remember.” A voice coughed behind you, stuttering through the passages of time, the stooped Asgardian shuffled around the table. Thor stood and offered her his seat, sliding the chair back into place and standing regally behind it. 

“Please,” you reached your free hand across the table towards the woman, considering Loki was easily two thousand years old, the woman must have been ancient, her face creased with memories, her skin paper thin. “I remember you,” and the memory lit up her eyes, “Estrid, Brigidsdotter, you brought so much joy to the palace, small one. And your mother loved you very much, so much that she brought you many times to spare you from Bres.” At his name the woman looked angry, her lips pursing. 

“She did?” Your eyes welled with tears, you had wondered why you were left on Asgard so much, how you’d come to know the Princes so well if your mother had loved you. 

“My dear small one, you are young, you will learn, sometimes loss is its own kind of affection, she took that burden for you, to protect you.” She paused to cough and you offered her a cup of tea from the pot. “Thank you, always so kind - He was not kind though, he came to you once and there was such shouting as you have never heard, the palace rocked with the sound of it - and in the morning,��� she coughed again, “you were gone, small one, the boys, they had forgotten it all.” She reached a hand up and Thor took it between his palms as gently as if he held a small bird. 

“We forgot?” He asked.

“You all forgot, she made you, the Queen, it was for the best for you to forget, so that it would not hurt you to be separated. Especially you, Prince of Mischief.” He eyes twinkled as she smiled at Loki. “I assumed it was to hide you from Bres again, but then Odin sent out a party to search for you.” She hummed, eyes closing a second longer than necessary when she blinked.

“He wanted her back? Safe?” Loki asked.

“He wanted to imprison you I suppose.” She coughed and brought a handkerchief from the sleeve of her cardigan. “You,who had brought so much joy and so much trouble to his doorstep, he was afraid of you.” She laughed but it turned into another wet, painful, cough.

Loki shook his head, “how can that be, the Allfather, afraid of a girl -” he turned to you quickly, “no offence meant, my Darling,” he brought your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers. 

“No, of course, he is, was, the Allfather, how could he have feared me.” Confusion crossed your face and the old lady patted your hand. 

“Small one, full of power, so much power you could not comprehend. The prophecy, it was about you and he feared you would bring Ragnarok if you stayed, you would burn the city with your magic and dance in the flames.” She shrugged, her cardigan sliding on her thin shoulders, and then took a draught of her tea, smacking her lips and reaching for a biscuit when she was done. 

“But Ragnarok happened already, that’s why we’re here,” Loki scrunched his brow, “and it was Hela, it was nothing to do with Estrid.” 

“Well maybe it was wrong, what do I know.” She patted Thor’s hand. “But I do know,” her eyes twinkled and if you didn’t know better, you’d say it was the same spark of mischief that Loki possessed, “I do know that Lugh,” she said his name like a sigh, one hand over her heart, “he was a kind man to all, and he loved your mother, so very much, that he would protect you, even now. He didn’t know how, of course, but he visited you once and Bres - well - as I say, it shook the palace.” 

Tears were threatening again, you couldn’t help it, it was all too much, should you have gone with him? Trusted him? Had he kidnapped you or was it another? Your mind raced.  

“I’m sorry, small one, I grow very weary, I am not as spritely as I once was.” 

“Thank you, thank you so much.” You reached across the table to hug her, your senses filling with an instant calm, a forgotten memory of the Asgardian nursery, the school rooms billowing with chalk dust and the grey teacher who watched over your work. “Thank you.” 

“Oh small one, it is my pleasure to see you so well again.” She smiled back, but tears didn’t come, instead her eyes looked milky and unfocussed, “I - Princess Estrid, what in the Nine Realms are you wearing - and Prince Loki, do unhand the young girl - I was - I was - look at the board -” she made a half turn, stumbling into Thor’s arms, “I must -” 

Thor tucked her tiny arm in his and kept her upright, “I shall escort her home, I know the way.” He nodded at you all, “I trust we shall discuss this later?” 

“Yes, of course brother, later.” Loki touched his elbow as he passed while you stared at the noticeboard again, silent tears spilling down your cheeks. 

When you’d helped to tidy away the table and the other Asgardian ladies had fussed over you awhile, Loki decided it was time to retire and discuss all that had been revealed to you. He had watched you working, leaning against Brunnhilde’s throne, while they spoke in hushed voices about the prophecy.

Outside of the tall windows the night had drawn in quickly, the sun already below the horizon despite the fact it was only mid-afternoon. In the lamplight you could see thick flakes of snow passing in and out of the light. 

“My darling,” Loki cooed, arms curling around your waist and his chin on your shoulder, “you work with my people is much appreciated, but I believe we should leave now, we have much to discuss.” 

You nodded in agreement and said goodbye to your new Asgardian friends. They were friendly, happy people, relaxing into their new life as much as they could with the weight of their loss still hanging heavy over them. You remembered snippets of life in Asgard, but the sheltered palace and walled grounds were a world away from the casual court of this new land, and you had to admit you enjoyed it.

At the door of the long hall Loki waved his hand, alongside your coat, a matching hat and gloves appeared. His own fell around his knees, accentuating the long lines of his body, and he lifted the collar against the chill breeze shifting the airy snow across the doorstep. 

Naturally, you fell into step next to each other, your arms linked and shoulders bumping together. You passed the turning for Brunnhilde’s road and suddenly your heart hammered, you had made it this far last time. You had walked from Brunnhilde’s home to the harbour’s edge, you’d watched the boats, far fewer boats then, bobbing in the waves, and now you were watching them creak against the crisp wind, snow icing their edges. 

“You have nothing to fear, Asynja,” Loki assured, putting his arm around your waist instead. You had to walk slower, but you did feel safer this close to his body. 

“I know -” you took a deep breath, watching it mist in the air as you exhaled, “I was alone before.” 

“Though I’m truly sorry, beyond any words, that I was not here to escort you before, that isn’t what I meant.” He stopped you then and your heart beat wildly. The cottages were lit up in the darkness and you longed to be safe inside. “You have nothing to fear, anything out here stalking you now -” you hitched a breath, “- not that there is,” he cupped your cheeks, tipping your chin up. “There is nothing out here that your power cannot match, nothing that you cannot beat, you have no reason to fear, they should be afraid of you.” His eyes were ablaze, firm and proud. 

“I don’t know about that, Loki, I-”

“Darling, you are Princess Estrid, daughter of Brigid, this is a magnificent lineage all of its own. I’ve seen what you can do, what your raw magic can create, you have nothing to fear.” 

“Okay,” you weren’t entirely convinced, but Loki’s surety made you feel as if you could take on the world anyway, just as long as he was by your side. 

“It seems I need to prove it to you further,” he stepped away from you, taking the coat he’d conjured with him and a chill ran up your spine, the flare of magic was as natural as the shiver itself, a heavy cloak and fur collar fell about you, fluffing up behind your neck to protect you from any further cold. 

Loki smiled, the predatory smile he employed when he had been proved right, “without thought, my darling, you look truly regal, as you deserve to be.” He approached you again, holding his hand out and, as it touched yours, he allowed himself to exchange his modern peacoat for a matching robe. 

“Do you believe me now, Princess?” He teased the question against your lips, pulling back when you leaned into him. 

“Yes, I believe you.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. 

“Good,” Loki’s cold lips met yours, as all consuming as his belief in you, you tipped your head, deepening the kiss until your tongues slid together, noses brushing and the snow falling like glitter around you. 

You stumbled over the threshold of Loki’s Tønsberg home intending to take in the details of his cottage, to learn more about him, to talk over the new information revealed at the long hall. But his lips on your neck, pushing the heavy fabric to the floor where it billowed into glittering magic at your feet, the overwhelming scent of him as he slammed the door behind you both and pressed you into the wall. You were incapable of thinking of anything else, of this god before you, a Prince, and you felt every inch the Princess he believed you could be. That sensation alone filled you with a burning desire. 

“Loki,” you moaned and he groaned against your lips. 

“Say my name,” he growled, “say it again.”

“Only if -” you panted, pulling away to drag your sweater over your head, “only if you call me Princess again.” 

Loki’s eyes darkened, his smile feral as he loomed over you, one hand braced against the wall, his body hovering over yours, barely touching, the other traced your ear, down your cheek, to your lips. “You like when I call you Princess?” he purred, dragging your bottom lip with his thumb and you latched onto it, drawing the digit into your mouth and nodding. “Then who am I to deny you, Princess.”

“Ugh, Loki,” you sagged against the wall, reaching for his lapels and drawing him back into your kisses.

“That’s a good girl,” he swept you up in his kiss, lifting you into his arms and carrying you up the narrow stairs to his bedroom. Candles flickered as you passed, illuminating the room in a golden glow. 

Loki’s bed was huge, taking up a large portion of the room with its posts and swathes of emerald velvet. He’d placed you on an equally luxurious blanket, but you could feel the cold slick of silk behind you. 

He prowled towards you, crowding you backwards into the pillows and crushing your lips together again. Your hands sought the hard planes of his chest, ripping the buttons from his shirt and revealing the dips of his muscles to your hungry eyes. 

“I need you so badly, fuck -” you dug your hands into his hair, needing something, anything, to ground you. 

“Darling,” his chest rumbled with each breath, his kisses deep and languid. 

You weren’t sure whose magic removed the rest of your clothes, but you knew when you could feel the hard length of him against your thigh that this was exactly where you needed to be, where you had always belonged. You canted your hips against him, trying to gain any friction to quell the aching between your legs. 

“My Princess,” he looked down at you, his eyes full of emotion and lust, blurred together into an intoxicating cocktail, you shivered again, your own slick mixing with the precum leaking onto your leg. “Are you going to keep being a good girl for me?” He asked, nosing at the sensitive spot on your neck, licking over the pulse. 

“Do you want me to be good?” You teased back, wrapping your legs around his hips.

It took him a moment to answer while he took in your prone form, spread below him in the candlelight, sparking with magic, before he met your eyes again, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. 

“No, I don’t,” he grinned. “I want you to be bad, I want you to be naughty, my Goddess, my Asynja, I want you to be wicked and cruel and ruthless. I want you to take exactly what you want from me." 

You clawed at his back, leaving red tracks on his porcelain skin while he snarled with lust, sheathing himself inside of you. 

He was animalistic, growling as he set a punishing pace, his forehead pressed to yours. 

You gripped his hips, using them to pull yourself closer, rolling your body to meet his with every thrust. 

“Loki - ugh - My Prince!” You cried out, your stomach tightened, clenching around his hard length. 

That feral smile returned and he slowed his movements, rolling onto his back and dragging you with him until you were seated in his lap, his cock, so deep, you could swear you could see the outline of him. His hands found your waist again, urging you to begin moving. 

“My Prince,” you panted, squeezing your eyes closed at the sheer bliss of being so close to him, so connected you could feel his heartbeat inside of you. 

“My Princess,” Loki sat up to kiss you, his muscles flexing, sweat dipping into each rivulet, “I want you to take your pleasure, my darling, let me be your throne, tell your court your wicked desires.” 

With a moan you kissed the smile from his face, devouring him, his words like a match to tinder in your veins. And you moved. So slowly it was almost painful, teasing the length of him from your body, feeling the drag of each deliciously, thick inch against your fluttering walls, before lowering yourself again, hands on his chest, head tipped back in sheer ecstasy. 

“That’s it, use my body for your pleasure, sit upon your throne.” He cried as he came hard inside you to the feel of your pulsing walls and tightening fingers. 

As he rolled you over again you were sure you could get used to being a Princess. 

<<Chapter 16

Chapter 18 >>

[aziraphales-library]

Hi all! I've been craving some fantasy au slow burn but have been wanting something longer than 50k words (I want to be in for the long haul). I've been reading Beauty and the Beast AUs but I could work with something similar/fusion. (I've already read "The Serpent and the Angel" and "Choose Your Princes Wisely" and loved them both) If you can't manage fantasy au then post-s1 would work as well :)

Give me longing! Give me shy touches and stolen looks! Fluff, angst, and/or hurt/comfort, E rating is welcome. Thanks!

Hey. We have a #fantasy au tag, so check that out. There aren't loads of fantasy fics over 50k with slow burn/pining, so searching ao3 was really simple. Here ya go...

I’m Your Landsailor by IneffableDoll (T)

In a small seaside town called Tadfield, one of the last places on Earth where humans and magic coexist, an exiled selkie and a human who ran away from her life accidentally get themselves married in the oldest, most binding sense. The two are forced to stay together until they can find a way to undo it and free the other from their accidental marriage. It sure would be complicated if they started to fall for each other in the process…

through the silent wood by summerofspock (M)

When Aziraphale Eastgate first moves to Tadfield, he struggles to understand the strange culture of the village. They're not friendly or kind or anything he expected from a village in the north. So when he rescues a snake from a snow storm, he's glad for a little company even if it comes in the form of an animal. Unfortunately, in Tadfield, animals are often not what they seem.

Dragon's Heart by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

“No dear Aziraphale. It must live” She answered him, and turned her gaze to the massive, sleeping beast. Just then Aziraphale noticed the great pool of dark blood that surrounded the thing where it lay. Blood from its wounds. He looked down at his feet and saw the dark blood pooling around his simple cloth shoes, soaking into the woolen fabric. He felt no revulsion or surprise over this. Only sadness and pity for the poor creature.  “It must live” the goddess repeated. “And you must go to it” Not one to refuse the request of a deity, Aziraphale nodded. “Very well then my Goddess” he replied. “When shall I go?” “At once” she replied. “And you must tell no one”

Faeted, Part One by megzseattle (G)

Ezra fell is an English professor at a prestigious academy for boys. Crowley is the lord of the Unseelie court in the lands without sunrise or moonfall. Somehow fate will bring them together.

Cast the Stone and Create the Ripple by The_Bentley (E)

Crowley stared at him, yellow eyes narrowing. “You’ll have to excuse me for not trusting you. Never encountered your kind before. I suggest you get out of here because this much blood in the water is going to attract sharks.” He twisted around, attempting once again to try to dive into the depths, but without his tail free that was proving impossible. He struggled even harder upon seeing his so-called rescuer pull a knife out of his belt. “Not without you,” the land-dweller replied. “Hold still, please. These nets are meant to dig into skin the more one moves.” “If you're going to kill me, please make it quick. Long, painful discorporations seem like a bad way to go.” Prince Crowley is investigating the damage fishing vessels are doing to crops and homes in his father's underwater kingdom. Prince Aziraphale is supposed to be learning to become a scribe. Their worlds are about to collide, putting Crowley's life in danger and revealing that the land-dwelling angels and ocean-dwelling merdemons just might not be that different after all. (Rated T until Chapter 11 when it becomes more NSFW.)

Omens Of Another Kind by WorseOmens (NR)

Crowley is the Dullahan, a notorious omen of death. Happily ever after isn’t in the job description; he’ll soon meet someone who begs to disagree. (Good Omens Folklore AU)

- Mod D

[iho6hi2]

Infrunami.

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Matsuno Karamatsu/F! Reader

Summary: Getting kisses from a hot lady? Karamatsu would love that. Almost getting ran over by a hot lady? Not exactly on his bucket list, but Karamatsu checks it regardless.

Warnings: Near Death Experiences, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Light Angst, Drinking, Getting to Know Each Other, Feel-Good, Ridiculous

Word Count: 8,037

A/N: MY HOMESLICE 🧀🧀 Karamatsu deserves someone he can be a flop with T__T BTW Im so insecure about this so pls either give me a 10 page essay on why this sucked or one 'this was cool Lol' otherwise ill kms

Karamatsu ambles near the bridge, his usual hotspot for courting women in this cruel game life likes to call love; or more accurately the place where he stands still like a traffic sign with the hopes of someone giving him the time of day for once (huge spoiler alert: nobody does, as expected).

He chuckles, feigning smug amusement as he runs a hand through his hair in one smooth motion. "The stars must not favor me today, for all of my Karamatsu girls are nowhere to be seen. Heh, if that is the fate of a sinful man, I shall accept it and retreat with peace.''

The looks passersby shoot him border on mentally perturbed and downright horrified, because who the hell monologues atrocities like these out loud? Without being under the influence of something, nonetheless.

With that declaration out of the way, Karamatsu straightens up and decides to head home for the day, deeming it appropriate. What with his love endeavors turning out to be unsuccessful once again, also to no one's big surprise really.

On his way home, whenever the opportunity presents itself, he stops to window-shop every time he passes by a fashion boutique and admires clothes his broke bum probably couldn't afford.

Of course, he attempts not to appear interested, and instead only crosses his arms critically and gives the mannequins clad in clothing the stink eye (even if he's wearing shades of all things) while the workers glance at him warily through the window.

Before another demented sentence is said, suddenly all chaos breaks loose and there are people yelling and instantly he's all too aware of the motorcycle nearing him with each passing second. Karamatsu shrieks so loud he's sure everyone from the next town over had heard him.

"Get out of the way!" The biker shouts and waves a hand to the side for emphasis, and he feels like a fly being swatted away, but even if Karamatsu wanted to move it's almost as if his legs are rooted to the ground.

A wave of panic washes over him and strangely enough there was still enough time for dread to settle in the depths of his stomach. Even if it may be cliché, his life does end up flashing before his eyes － and it's just plain sad how fucking boring it is.

"Get out of the way," you repeat, though you sound more adamant, your tone coated with a sense of urgency.

Ahhh, Mommy! I'll die a virgin, I'll die a loser! Karamatsu cries in his mind. If I survive, I'll get a job, I swear! I'll even stop talking in English, just please! He pleads mentally, to whom is unknown.

Suddenly, you remember that brakes exist and you swerve with such mastery you weren't even aware you possessed up until now, coming to an abrupt stop right in front of your spared victim, tires screeching harshly against the pavement. Karamatsu deadpans, God had a real sense of humor.

He's still frozen in place, barely containing the natural instinct to piss himself. Though he's also pretty sure the urge to urinate will hit him like a shit ton of bricks post-shock.

Fortunately, he's not Ichimatsu and so he doesn't shit himself in front of the cute girl getting off of the motorcycle, even if she barely missed out on becoming his murderer.

You approach him cautiously, expecting the berating of a lifetime. Though judging by his state － him shaking like a leaf despite his thick leather jacket, also not to mention the buckets worth of sweat rolling off him －, you doubt you'll get an earful.

"Are you okay?'' Obviously, he's not. ''You're not hurt or anything, right?''

Karamatsu shakes his head timidly despite not even listening to a word you said. Then, he gulps and raises a trembling hand to his face, lowering his sunglasses just a smidge to take a good peek at you. ''H-Heh, you have, um, nothing to worry about my dear Karamatsu girl..."

You do your best to smile at him in response, but the need to physically recoil is understandably strong. ''Oh, uh, that's good to hear. I'm sorry for, you know, almost killing you and giving you a fright... It happens a lot for some reason.''

You need to get your license revoked, Karamatsu's eye twitches but he smirks regardless, willing to disregard everything that had occurred just because you were one hot lady. Plus, he is a gentleman, if nothing else.

''As if! You have no reason to fret, mon amour. The thrill of living or dying, chasing that high is what makes or breaks a man! Such a thing couldn't possibly scare me."

''Are you sure? 'Cause I'm certain I heard you scream,'' you grin with more teeth than you should. It'd be such a pleasure to knock him down a couple of notches, you think.

''T-T-That was most definitely not a scream, my darling, I assure you! It was but a noise of excitement at the divine gamble, ahahaha, that's all!'' Karamatsu stutters, stumbling over his words.

You blink, positively unimpressed. "You were excited to get ran over?"

After that, an uncomfortable silence stretches between the two of you. You're pulled into reality by the fact that just about anyone could see your number plate, so it was time to leave and flee the supposed crime scene. You're not getting fined for this, hell no. If anything, you're the one who's in desperate need of reparations after this degenerate conversation.

You mount your motorcycle again and look at him with an almost impish smile, ''You have weird tastes, man." And with that last comment, you're gone in the same breath, leaving behind only a cartoonish dust cloud.

Karamatsu's legs give out and he collapses, falling to his knees. Nobody helps him up.

★

Karamatsu doesn't really visit clubs often. Going by himself makes him feel strangely out of place, going with his brothers makes him feel like a circus attraction, though it's not like it has ever bothered him before.

He would usually lie through his teeth and strive to come off as unbothered and remarkably experienced; a well-seasoned veteran among premature ejaculators, but crowded places like these aren't his scene, at all. Never really have been in the first place.

Perhaps that's why he thinks he doesn't belong here as he observes the rest of the partygoers live it up on the dancefloor while babysitting his beer, one sip at a time.

The music isn't even good, Karamatsu frowns and pinches his eyebrows together, deep in thought. Man, did this place fucking suck. How much did they have to cough up in order for others to rate it a 4-star club?

Well, he supposes it doesn't really matter in the end. As long as the booze's good, that's all he needs to forget this horrible day. A 'nice' hangover is all it takes to wipe his memories clean, which isn't much to brag about.

''Oh, it's you!'' Someone exclaims and he whips his head forward before spitting out his alcohol. What are the odds? You point at him, just as shocked as him at this turn of events, ''Mr. Painful!''

Karamatsu chuckles, raising his glass full of beer as a greeting. ''Madame. Charmed to see you here.''

You roll your eyes but that doesn't hinder you from grinning back at him, ''Oh, the pleasure is all mine, trust me.''

''I would hope so. What are the chances of our paths crossing once more? It leads me to believe that this is no chance encounter. Hmph, why it must be fate.'' Karamatsu blabbers on, implementing wild gestures into his dialogue, takes his sunglasses off and his eyes shine with what you presume is a romantic glint.

You cough a little and wipe the bar clean with a towel, ''Yeah, no. I just work here.''

''The universe works in mysterious ways.''

You laugh. ''Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.'' Then, you pat the back of his hand twice. You watch him jump up in surprise and tilt your head to the side, confused.

Karamatsu clutches his hand to his chest, but realizes how fucking ridiculous he must look and simply clears his throat with that same proud expression.

You squint your eyes. ''You're not sick, are you?''

Karamatsu hurries to shake his head, which did nothing but give him a sense of déjà vu. ''N-Non, non! Don't worry your pretty little head over my health, angel. I'm nothing else if not alright, haha.''

You narrow your eyes at him further.

His hands are bundled over his crotch and he has one leg crossed over the other and if Twitter had taught you anything useful at all, it would mean that these are early signs of cock shame. And all of his prior mannerisms, could it be that he is... ''A virgin?''

You did not mean to say that out loud.

Karamatsu's face turns blank for a brief second before he's flapping his hands left and right in firm denial. His face is flushed, panicked, and you swear he's on the brink of tears.

When you said that you wanted to knock him off his high horse, this wasn't what you had in mind, at least not exactly. As a matter of fact, you feel sort of bad for the poor guy.

''Hahaha... What are you talking about, my Karamatsu girl? You should be able to tell by now that a man like me is sought after, which is one of the many punishments I must endure!'' He announces, posing with his index and thumb on his chin, a shaky smile slapped on his sweaty face.

You blink, then prop your elbows on the front bar, lean in and ask, ''And in reality?''

Karamatsu sits back down in his stool, then promptly downs the rest of his beer. ''A jobless virgin who lives in his parents' house.''

You register the somber look in his eyes. You sigh under your breath and open up the fridge, pulling out the same brand of beer he had been drinking until now and pass the bottle to him casually.

Karamatsu looks up at you in disbelief, glancing between you and the bottle of beer frantically. You flick his forehead, ''Drink up, it's on the house just this once.''

Karamatsu stiffens and then smiles gently, rubbing his wet eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, snivelling. ''Thank you, my Karamatsu girl!''

You cross your arms and huff, ''It's [Name]. And besides, I almost ran you over earlier today, it's the least I can do for you.''

''Thank you, [Name].'' Karamatsu parrots himself and happily takes a swig of his new, freshly refilled drink.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye while serving other customers. When a majority of the people disperse, leaving the two of you mostly alone again, you quickly scribble down your number on a napkin.

''Here,'' you call out to him as you hand him the piece of paper. When he shoots you a curious look, you redirect your attention elsewhere in mock embarrassment. ''You seem like fun, let's drink together for realsies next time. My treat.''

Karamatsu gasps, screaming like a banshee with a voice mutation and you think he emotes a strange, outdated gag while leaping ten feet in the air.

His head hits the ceiling but he comes back down just as quick, blood dripping down his face. Planks come crashing down on top of him, somehow on fire, and you clench your jaw. This will definitely be deducted from your paycheck.

★

Karamatsu wakes up, but he doesn't remember how or when he got home.

He ruffles his hair, only to find his broken shades and several bandages wrapped around his head. He attempts to jog his memory and yet the only thing he's able to recall is slamming face-first into a roof and... And...

He sits up and Olympic dives straight into the couch, barbarically searching for that blessed piece of paper which could very well change the entire trajectory of his life.

When he pulls it out of his leather jacket's pocket, he breathes heavily and fakes a falsetto, opting to roll around on the floor in some sort of wild frenzy.

This is it. I'm finally presented with an opportunity to abandon my virgin ways, Karamatsu thinks with a serious expression, shadows covering his eyes dramatically.

He raises a lone victorious fist in the air, cutting through the Matrix itself. Then, Karamatsu gulps and surveys the area, noticing that the living room is empty, which can only mean one thing. Now is the perfect time to plan a romantic rendezvous with you.

Tip-toeing his way to the hall where the landline is located, Karamatsu muttered curse words whenever the floorboards creaked under his weight.

When he reaches the house phone, he gently unfolds the napkin and smoothes out the wrinkles, then sucks in a deep breath and forces his balls to turn into pure steel.

Dialing your number with practiced caution, he bites his nails and anxiously taps his foot. The longer he waits for you to pick up, the more he loses hope.

Just as he was about to hang up and snap back to his miserable reality, maybe cry for an hour or two, your voice croaks out a, ''Hello, who is this? I can hear you breathing, creep. Helloooo?''

''A-Ah, [Name]! This is, uh, Karamatsu.'' He stutters and twirls his hair around his finger. ''I was pondering over the possibility of us taking a stroll together, bathing in the sun and sharing masterful pastries－"

''A date. You want us to go on a date.''

''Yes,'' Karamatsu admits, or rather embraces the simplified idea of it all. ''It's okay if you don't want to, of course, m'lady! I-I wouldn't force you or anything, it's entirely up to you.''

You pinch your nose on the other line, ''Karamatsu, shut up, 'kay? Yes, I wanna go on a date with you, otherwise I wouldn't have paid for your broke ass last night. Now give me a time and place.''

''You do? You actually want to willingly hang out with me?'' He questions and you can practically smell his meekness and self-doubt oozing out of him even through the phone.

''You're the one who hit up my line first, no takebacks hotshot.'' You say, half-joking.

''Why, yes of course. As expected of my favourite Karamatsu girl!'' My only Karamatsu girl up-to-date. ''Obviously, you desire to spend every waking moment together with me, just as much as I do.''

''Time and place, please and thank you.'' You cut him off mid-effusion.

After arranging the date and going over the details, Karamatsu giddily spins and hugs himself. Then, he slaps his face and nods to no one in particular, as a form of confirmation to his invisible hype men.

Choromatsu stares at him judgementally from the stairway, face twisted in its usual sociopathic manner.

Osomatsu leans over in order to whisper in his ear, "What's up with him? He's acting weirder than usual."

Choromatsu scowls. "I don't wanna know, besides if we show interest that means we're going to have to put up with him."

Osomatsu nods in agreement and rubs under his nose with a finger, "True. It's way too damn early for his theatrics." Then, he throws in his assholish laugh for good measure.

The two of them choose to close their eyes and pretend this never happened in the first place, trudging up the stairs and going right back into their shared room without a care in the world.

★

You check the time and grimace. He's awfully late for someone who asked you out first. You wouldn't say you're the most punctual person in the world, but even still you decided to get all dolled up and ended up arriving early for a change of pace.

At first, you didn't mind waiting for him. Life happens after all, right? Maybe something came up last minute and he couldn't put it off, but if that were the case he would have informed you beforehand, right? Right?

You feel as though you're a step closer to becoming a wacko, but suddenly shake your head to rid your mind of such thoughts and smile to yourself. He'll show up, you're sure of it.

But after thirty more minutes of this nonsense, you're on the verge of throwing a tantrum and disrupting the public tranquility because you got stood up. What a fucking jerk, you think and puff out your cheeks.

Just as you're about to leave, maybe actually run someone over and kill them to make yourself feel better and perhaps blow all of your money on cheap gigolos, you stop and widen your eyes at the sight that greets you.

There's no mistaking those sequinned pants and shiny cowboy boots. Your date, with his wounds all gone and miraculously healed, saunters over to you like he's a runway model, catwalking with a bit of an attitude as if he didn't keep you waiting for half an hour.

He halts when there's barely any distance between the two of you, takes off his shades and flashes you his pearly whites which emit an ominous sparkle and you're temporarily rendered blind. ''Sorry for the wait.''

You grind your teeth together and force yourself to grin, ''Don't worry about it, but what took you so long.''

Karamatsu nervously chuckles and glances to the side, looking anywhere but you.

How the hell is he supposed to tell you that he spent most of the time hiding and sneaking peeks in your direction, but simply didn't have enough courage to approach you and that it took him at least twenty minutes to muster it? Simple, he won't tell you.

Instead, he strikes a pose under the nonexistent limelight. ''A star like me is obligated to be fashionably late.''

''Well, the star better make sure it doesn't happen again or it'll be one sad day for your fanbase,'' you threaten with an innocent smile, batting your eyelashes.

Karamatsu gulps and nods, but an invisible light bulb turns on above his head and he snaps his fingers. ''Oh, yes! How can I forget? I got a present for you, my Karamatsu girl."

You 'ooh' and 'aah' in curiosity, while he retrieves whatever he brought along with him in the meantime.

When he pulls out a tank top with his face on it, the exact same one he's wearing as well, you don't know what to say in response. In fact, your brain might actually be buffering.

Have we lost the impact of shame in our modern-day society? You think in disdain, fighting off the pain in your ribs.

He blushes and hands it to you nonchalantly, ''Here, wear this so suitors know not to mess with you. Once they see you and I together, matching garments and walking hand in hand, they shall understand who the one true power couple is.''

You blink twice and slowly accept the gift, then without any hesitation whatsoever you put on the tank top and wear it over your clothes. You're in too deep already, anyway.

''Thanks a lot, Karamatsu. I, uh, don't know what to say,'' you fake flattery at his sincere act of courtesy, though you're not necessarily lying either. You genuinely have no idea what to say to this entire ordeal.

''No need to thank me, sunshine.'' He pirouettes in slow motion and when he stops, he stretches his hand out for you to take. There is an aura surrounding you and you can make out dreamy bubbles floating around him. And where did the harp come from? ''Now allow me to whisk you off to paradise.''

You grab his hand and excitedly lead him to your parked motorcycle. ''Great, let's go!'' You pat the pillion and stare at him expectantly.

Upon noticing his silence, you stop ushering him to the seat. ''What's wrong, Karamatsu?''

He scratches his nape and lets his head droop low. ''Is it... Um, do we have to get on top of that...'' He points a weak finger at the bike and trembles. What can he say, he has a fear of motorbikes now.

You pout at his inquiry. ''What, you don't wanna? But I thought you were into stuff like this. Why else would you wear a leather jacket?''

Karamatsu winces and immediately rushes to pacify you. ''No, no! That's not it! I was testing your limits, my dear Karamatsu girl. I apologize if－''

You laugh and place a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. ''I was just kidding, but if you're really scared we don't have to. It's my fault, after all.''

Karamatsu juts his lip and furrows his eyebrows in determination. He draws a breath and wraps his fingers around your wrist with ease, advancing towards the vehicle with you right behind him.

You gaze at him with something akin to awe, or is it incredulity? He plants himself on the seat and looks back to address you.

''A real man knows better than to turn down a lady and disappoint her,'' he states conclusively. You chuckle and follow suit, sitting down on the saddle.

You grip his arms and move them so they're wrapped around your waist. You twist and turn the key and the engine roars to life in one swoop. ''Hold on tight, [Name] boy.'' You tease his way of talking and take off without a second warning.

His head smacks against your back with a rather rough thud and Karamatsu's clasp around your midsection is already tight enough to cut off your air supply. And even if you feel his tears dampening your clothes, you don't comment on it. Instead, you pick up even more speed and in turn, Karamatsu's hug deepens.

''Shouldn't we be wearing safety helmets,'' Karamatsu yells through the lump in his throat, his ears ringing and head spinning.

You shout back at him, ''Who even wears these things nowadays?'' At the lack of your elaboration, he figures you're dead serious and he's petrified all over again.

You laugh maniacally, or at least you do so in his mind, as you go off course, making sharp turns left and right at every corner to wreak havoc on innocent people's lives.

You narrowly dodge two pedestrians and Karamatsu is finally desensitized enough to smile and blush as he takes in the ever-changing view.

There's something sweet in the way you repeat a certain motion whenever you hear him chuckle and cheer, he can't pinpoint if that's the starving desperation that thirsts for touch and companionship or something else entirely.

But then something punctures your tire and he's pulled out of dreamland all at once.

The two of you wobble on the unstable bike for a bit before you pull him by the jacket and jump off the motorcycle, rolling on the ground like you two were in an action movie. The motorcycle continues on its way without your guidance and eventually crashes into a tree, exploding.

A tire with a flame on it flies over your heads and you study the fire, unimpressed with pursed lips. ''Thank god it was a gift from my ex, otherwise I would've been in some deep shit.''

Karamatsu sinks to the ground and curls up in a ball.

★

You plop your ass on the grass next to Karamatsu, handing him a soda you bought from the convenience store nearby. Karamatsu mutters a small 'thank you' and takes a sip.

The two of you sit in complete silence on the riverbank and you're too abashed to begin talking first, finding the whole outcome to be your fault. You've given this man too many apologies for them to feel truthful at this point. Maybe he should do the most logical thing and start evading you. You deserve it.

Amidst your inner conflict, Karamatsu fixes you with a solemn look and chooses to break the ice. ''[Name], am I ugly?''

Taken aback by the unusual question, you cock your head to the side. ''Huh?''

''Tell me, am I ugly?''

You consider him for a moment longer and then gently cup his face with your hands, inspecting it from every possible angle you could manage.

You narrow your eyes in concentration before ruffling his hair. ''Not at all.''

''Really?''

''Not in the slightest. Well, at least I see the appeal." You shrug noncommittally. ''Why're you asking, though? That pretty much came out of nowhere.''

''Because if I'm not ugly, then why would you want to kill me? Every woman I meet either ignores me, beats me half to death or hates me. Why? Am I really that painful? Is that going to be my fate for the entirety of my life?''

You blink and hum in thought, placing a finger on your chin. ''Very, you're real painful but not enough for me to want to kill you, I guess. I think you just have extremely bad luck.''

Karamatsu frowns and crosses his arms, ''You think so? Is it really just bad luck or is there something bigger at play?''

The two of you ponder over what the real cause of Karamatsu's misfortune may be before your stomachs growl in protest simultaneously.

This seems to revive his alter ego because Karamatsu jolts and he appears pleased, almost as if he had been waiting for this exact same moment. He chuckles and spreads eagle, facing the sun. You're concerned he's going to get a heat stroke.

''It's finally my turn,'' Karamatsu announces, though you're not sure he knows what he's talking about. ''I shall take the princess to an exquisite place, where she can try real fine dining!''

He strokes his imaginary facial hair, winking. Even his eyebrows seem more refined. ''Follow my lead, dove.'' You were going to do just that even without him saying anything, but you salute him regardless.

Even though mere minutes ago it was still sunny, for some reason it's already dark out. You and Karamatsu trek for what must have felt like hours until he stops dead in his tracks. You wonder why until you spot the lonely food stall and smile.

You and Karamatsu make yourselves comfortable on the bench and he greets the owner, ''Yo, Chibita! How's your night been so far?''

It just turned nighttime... You deadpan.

''Y'know, dealing with jackasses of your kind－,'' Chibita scoffs before pausing, turning to you with unblinking eyes. Then, after he's done assessing you, he redirects his attention to Karamatsu. ''You payin' for rental girlfriends again? Get some dignity, man.''

You raise an eyebrow in question, but sneer and hide it with your fist. ''Rental girlfriend? That's a good idea, why didn't I think of that?''

Karamatsu's expression sours. ''[Name] isn't a rental. Besides who are you to talk, Chibimi?''

''Shut up, don't remind me! I was in a dark place, idjit,'' Chibita yells in response and smacks him on the head with a ladle and you watch their antics with a hint of amusement.

''Anyway,'' Karamatsu waves him off, despite the large bump he earned on his forehead. ''Give us the best oden and beer you've got in store, I'll make sure my woman eats right tonight.''

You shudder in surprise as Karamatsu takes your hand into his own, gazing at you with what must be an entire galaxy in his eyes and you wonder where he found those E.T. contact lenses. ''Don't hold back, order whatever your heart desires. It's all on me.''

Chibita complies with the request, serving two portions of oden and the beverages Karamatsu asked for. Though, he can't help but want to sate his curiosity. ''With what money?''

''With the money I exploited from my Mommy,'' Karamatsu boasts like that's something to take immense pride in.

After three to four rounds of drinking and pigging out on Chibita's oden, it was time to wrap up and call it a night.

Karamatsu snakes his hands in his pockets in search of the money he claimed to have, but he freezes as he finds nothing instead. Turning his pockets inside out, a fly flutters out of them and Karamatsu pales.

You seem to get the memo and nod conspiratorially his way.

You square your shoulders as Karamatsu nervously clears his throat. ''Chibita...,'' he begins before throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. ''I'm so sorry, I'll pay you back someday!''

Chibita stands still for a couple of seconds, processing. Afterwards, he lunges over the counter and begins chasing you. ''Damn it, idjit! You promised you'd pay, get back here! Damn it!''

With Chibita hot on your heels, Karamatsu goes through several alleyways as last resort shortcuts, and you come to the conclusion that Chibita is probably really scary if Karamatsu's going through so much trouble just to lose him and shake him off your trail.

"You can put me down now," you grumble and make a face. Karamatsu panics, just now realizing what predicament he had put you in, and sets you down with extra care.

"I apologize for that," he huffs out, attempting to catch his breath with his hands on his knees. You rub his back, acting as his emotional support.

Looking around the vicinity in search for any signs of Chibita, you come up empty. Helping Karamatsu to his feet, you deliver the good news. "He's gone, so you can stop looking constipated."

He sighs, relieved. "Such is the result of an eventful night. However, I will make sure your journey back home is undisturbed."

You shake your head in disagreement and throw an arm around his shoulder. "I think you've had enough, tough guy. Here, how about I take you home?"

Karamatsu seems distraught at the very idea of it, but for your sake he flips his hair and leers. "Your wish is my command."

With his directions, you manage to escort him back to his house safe and sound. Karamatsu opens his mouth to blurt out something, but is caught off guard by the abrupt change in the weather.

You both run with impressive speed under his house's roof to take cover and you deduct that the rain wouldn't be letting up for a while.

"Well, this sucks," you point out the obvious. Karamatsu nods wordlessly.

You think about calling a taxi, but something gets draped over you. You look down and are pleasantly astonished to discover that it's Karamatsu's leather jacket.

Said man is quivering in his flimsy excuse of a tank top, licentiously grinning at you with a very obvious snot bubble emerging out of his nostrils. "C-C-Can't le-let my favorite Karamatsu girl catch a cold." He elaborates for whatever reason.

"Well, I can't keep my favorite [Name] boy out for much longer, either." You give him a brief hug and were about to pull away, but Karamatsu is apparently not done dishing out surprises.

He grips your shoulders with resolve, before leaning in and kissing you on the cheek. It's a quick, demure kiss and if you were to blink, you would've missed it.

Nonplussed by his own boldness, Karamatsu stumbles towards the door with two left feet, barely succeeding in opening it.

"Get back home safely, [Name]!" He bids you farewell in true virgin fashion and slams the door shut in your face. You cackle, violently laughing to yourself and then crack a small smile, pressing a palm to your kissed cheek.

You must look like a fool, standing out in the rain while wearing a loser's clothes, but honestly? You've never felt better after such a tragic date.

★

You sigh and sling a towel over your shoulder, more than a little happy to finally clock out. Tonight had been particularly busy for some reason and working with a slight hangover was far from ideal, but it wasn't something you couldn't handle.

You dab your fellow bartender up, not even bothering to spare him a glance, and begin packing up your things with fervor.

He issues you a sly wink, ''Going home so soon, [Last Name]?''

Get a clue, wise guy. You internally roll your eyes, but only offer an exhausted smile. ''Not necessarily, got to make a pit stop on the way home.''

Akihito, you remember, folds his hands behind his head, rocking on his heels. ''Paying your boyfriend a visit?'' He hums cheekily.

You blink. ''Huh?''

He gestures towards the paper bag in your hands, which barely concealed the shitty leather jacket you were so generously lent.

You furrow your brows and scratch your cheek with an awkward expression. ''Wouldn't really call him a boyfriend...''

Akihito stretches, whining, ''You can be so cold, y'know. I feel sorry for the poor guy.''

''Another word and I'll really make you sorry.''

Akihito throws up a peace sign, grinning from ear to ear. ''Night, [Last Name]!''

You grumble under your breath and throw the towel on the ground. Akihito hears you say something along the lines of 'thought so' and other such death threats, but he feeds off your negativism. He odiosynthesizes and you know that, which makes you feel better about brushing him off, at least.

The walk to Karamatsu's place is as unmemorable as can be, and while it wouldn't kill you to see him again and chat for a bit, you don't think you'd be able to put up with him for long (or anyone else for that matter). When you spot his house, you brace yourself before sharply knocking on the door.

Well, you were supposed to knock but somehow developing last-minute Spidey senses, Karamatsu tears open the door to his balcony and puts a stop to your supposedly evil schemes. ''Don't'!'' He manages to both whisper and scream at the same time.

''What are you doing here at this hour, angel? Trying to get me crucified, perhaps?'' Karamatsu interrogates you and considering how disheveled his appearance is, you reach the conclusion that his fictional persona is merely an afterthought at the moment. You find a peace of mind at the conjecture.

''I'm just here to return your jacket,'' you say like it was obvious, which it should have been.

''I see.'' He doesn't see jackshit. ''But I cannot help but wonder why you didn't call beforehand. I, too, need my fair share of beauty sleep, sweetheart.''

Your eye twitches and you ball your fists, but remember to count to ten in your head.

''For your information, I called three times but maybe if someone bothered to pick up, I wouldn't be robbing you of your sweet dreams,'' you hiss in reply, proud of yourself for not chucking his damned jacket in the trash can in his presence.

Karamatsu rubs the crust from his eyes, though he does appear sheepish to a degree. ''My sincere apologies.''

You scoff, glad to have come out on top at this pointless back-and-forth.

Karamatsu anxiously chews on his lower lip, trying his best to conjure up a plan that will avoid his certain death at the hands of his brothers. Not even for waking them up at three in the morning, but for the mere fact that he was 'romancing' a hot chick.

Then he grins and looks down at you like a mad genius. He couldn't be further from the word.

''Climb up and join me on the roof, [Name],'' he suggests and acts as if it was a perfectly reasonable demand.

You undeliberately blank out for a second before chuckling lowly and nodding in understanding. ''I get it now. You're actually fucking nuts and escaped from a correctional facility.''

Look who's talking, Karamatsu wants to retort but he keeps it to himself. He beckons you over encouragingly, ''Please, [Name] dearest. I promise I won't let anything happen to you. I'll be your guardian angel.''

You're acutely aware that something will definitely happen, so you only click your tongue, still apprehensive about the proposition.

Karamatsu continues to stare at you with that tender smile, though it's different this time. His hair is sticking out in different directions, ungroomed. His eyes are heavy, bloodshot and sleep still clings to him as he staggers slightly in his step. But he's smiling at you, it's real.

You put aside your concerns for now and exhale slowly, biting the handles of your paper bag.

You jump and grab a hold of the portico, flailing your legs to help stabilize yourself. Your fingers burn because this is the most physically exerting thing you've done in your life thus far.

You push yourself up on the portico and, just like a mollusk, inch forward bit by bit. Karamatsu tries his hardest not to laugh at your misery, but he's unable to take you seriously. You're moving slower than an old man with two broken legs, plus you look like you have a stick shoved up your ass.

Once you're a safe distance away from the edge, you extend your arms and Karamatsu takes this as his cue to act and be useful.

He grabs your hands and hauls you up on the balcony, but this quest is not over just yet. You have to conquer the final boss; the rooftop.

''I have an idea,'' you both blurt out at random. You don't care much about that, but Karamatsu is over the moon at the perfect synchronization.

Coincidence or not, the two of you end up cooking up the same strategy.

You get on top of Karamatsu's shoulders and with the sudden added height, reaching the roof is a piece of cake. After settling your ass down on the tiles, you grit your teeth and clasp hands with him for the umpteenth time, having him work his way up as well.

With a heave-ho, Karamatsu is free to lie down beside you.

You're hit with a much needed reality check. All of this over a second-hand jacket? Unbelievable.

Tossing the paper bag on his lap carelessly, you scowl. ''You're welcome, asshole.''

''C-Come on, my dear Karamatsu girl. It wasn't that bad, right?''

''Speak for yourself...''

Karamatsu props up his elbows, craning his head up just enough to be able to see you. ''It's such a shame, however. The view from here is perfect, all that's missing is my guitar. Too bad my precious brothers are sleeping soundly.''

''Yeah, about that. I don't know what any of your brothers have to do with this, 'cause whatever the fuck this was could've been easily prevented.'' You cross your arms and turn away from him, establishing a decent amount of room between the two of you.

''You wouldn't understand, darling. Yes, even if I did give you an explanation.'' He responds, and you feel as though he was reading your mind. You shiver at the sheer thought.

The two of you don't indulge in idle chatter afterwards since you're too busy looking back on all of your previous life decisions, trying to figure out what led you to go down such paths. Karamatsu, on the other hand, is gliding himself closer to you.

You notice his ventures and decide to cut him some slack. You shift, erasing the previous space you set and move a hand to place on his shoulder. He hiccups at the touch and begins stammering, playing with his fingers. ''Hahaha... your eyes shine so brightly under the moon's glow.''

You shush him, still not in the mood to listen to his poetic nonsense and bullshit of similar nature.

The two of you stare each other down and Karamatsu does his best to put up a brave front, but you're not blind and you see the way he peers at you from under his lashes, sweating like a musclehead.

Before things could escalate any further, which you doubt is something that would have happened considering who exactly you're dealing with, the both of you slip off the edge.

You're falling and Karamatsu is too, and while you're mostly accepting of the scenario, he isn't. You're more surprised at the fact that this man-child's shrill wails aren't waking up the entire neighbourhood, though they're probably accustomed to these kinds of phenomena by now.

In order to break your fall, Karamatsu adjusts mid-air so as to be under you. He shoves your face into his chest, embracing you but his actions prove to be the wrong move as they merely speed up the process of nosediving into the concrete.

The two of you flop like prepped meatballs on a grill, a sinistrous thump resonating at the dead of night.

You briefly register the sizzling elbow pain you've obtained and Karamatsu's jaw headbutting you at the last second, but other than that you took it pretty well － all thanks to Karamatsu's interference. Perhaps chivalry isn't dead?

While you got out of this with barely any injuries, just small scratches, the same couldn't be said for Karamatsu, who was currently experiencing concussions.

You pat his chest lightly to snatch up his attention. Karamatsu groans, seeing stars floating above him. You make yourself comfortable despite the joint strains, snuggling up to him. ''I'm egging your house soon, be aware.''

He passes out before he could formulate a coherent reply.

★

You haven't seen neither hide nor hair of Karamatsu ever since the rooftop fiasco. And you don't want to sound needy, or downright crazy for that matter, but you miss the man with horrible pick-up lines and over-the-top attitude. Him and his awful sense of fashion, not to mention the strong cologne.

Perhaps you've been infected with some new kind of mental illness, one so new and fresh out of the oven it has yet to be diagnosed by teenage girls with too much free time on their hands.

First, you visit Chibita for any sort of intel he might possess.

''Karamatsu? Sorry, him and his brothers hadn't stopped by as of recent.'' He shrugs apologetically and whips out oden skewers, serving them to you.

You nod and grin at him in understanding, paying for the food before scurrying away on a full stomach.

Next, you consider what other options you have at your disposal. Calling him has proven to be absolutely useless and you're not sure if paying his house a visit would be a good idea, given how worked up he got over such a possibility last time.

You search far and wide, in every nook and cranny, not leaving a single stone unturned. But alas, no dice. Not a trace of him anywhere and you speculate the probability of him glitching into The Backrooms.

You're about to give up, hunting Karamatsu for sport and worrying about him won't do you any good.

You're not getting paid for this, you also don't know him all too well to be actively seeking him out. His dramatic temperament has rubbed off on you, but you're ready to wash it off.

See if I care, you huff and kick a stray can in your way. You're aware of how childishly you're behaving, but you bluff fake indifference as if anyone would be stupid enough to believe you.

You stomp angrily and punt another can with your foot, but accidentally hit someone when doing so.

You flinch and prepare to half-ass an apology before realizing you hit the man you've been getting grey hairs over.

''Karamatsu?'' You blink and crouch down to shake him by the shoulders. ''Hey, what's wrong?''

Karamatsu weakly smiles and shuffles away, offering you a seat next to him on the curb.

You frown, ''Seriously, what happened?''

Karamatsu laughs, manspreading. ''I'm grateful for your concern, but it's... Well, it's simply a foolish thing to be upset about.''

''If it upset you, then it's not dumb.'' You respond, reassuring him to the best of your ability. ''Now, spill the beans.''

''I've been thinking about my personality, I guess?'' He mutters and cracks his knuckles, he tends to fidget quite a lot. ''Like, am I annoying? Trying too hard? Should I stop?''

You listen to him and stay quiet, occassionally rubbing his back. ''I want to be liked.'' You quirk an eyebrow at that, but don't interrupt him otherwise.

''It's lame at my big age to want to be popular, but I wanna be kissed. I wanna have a girlfriend and go on dates, but I'm afraid my personality will drive everyone away."

For fuck's sake, he was called Shittymatsu and frankly, he's surprised you were able to withstand him for so long.

''Karamatsu, want me to be completely honest,'' you ask. He nods rapidly at you. You hum softly, ''I didn't lie before, you are painful. You say so much corny stuff, I'm impressed you can even look yourself in the mirror.''

He cringes, but you pay him no heed. Instead, you continue, ''I mean, really? Who wears tank tops with their face slapped right in the middle, what a fucking dork. But, y'know, I kinda like it now.''

''Huh?''

''I think that type of shit grew on me, for better or worse. I, too, have become a member of the cornball community." You admit and you shudder at your mushy honesty.

You rub the back of your head in embarrassment, "When you say all of these dumb nicknames and act like you own all of Akatsuka Ward a small part of me wishes I die on the spot, but I don't necessarily hate it.''

You hug him and bring him closer to you. You snicker and peck him on the forehead, ''Don't worry so much about who ignores you or hates you is all, when you have someone who likes you despite every cringe one-liner right in front of ya.''

''You're right.'' Karamatsu returns the hug, sniffing and holding back tears. ''[Name]?''

''Yeah?''

''You're a true Karamatsu girl.''

Getting kisses from a hot lady? Karamatsu would love that. And the prospect of you being the one to give them to him, with that warm smile which makes your nose crinkle up, makes the scenario sound even better.

But for now, he's content with you simply pressed up against his side, where he can easily peer over at you and study your face until it's burned and etched forever into his brain. Subtly, of course.

You look up at him with a raised eyebrow after feeling him drill holes in your head since forever, which in turn leads Karamatsu to let out an urbane chuckle and lamely pretend to fix his stray strands of hair, and you can't help but snort at his usual theatrical character.

You sigh and rest your forehead against his. "Painful," you mumble under your breath, though definitely loud enough for him to hear, then giggle.

Karamatsu playfully frowns in response. "My flower, you should know by now that no pain means no gain." He tuts with an exaggerated wag of his finger, eyes animatedly glittering.

You laugh in utter disbelief before shaking your head, wrapping a loose arm around his waist. "Sorry, sorry. You know damn well I don't mean it, right?"

Karamatsu hums and his lips curl upwards to form a small, fond smile. He places his chin on your shoulder and you lean into him even more.

Yeah, Karamatsu could get used to this. For now, that was more than enough for him.

Getting kisses from a hot lady really would be nice, but watching the sun set on the cold pavement with you next to him feels good, too. And hey, you are a hot lady, so what's there to hate?

And to think all of this was thanks to your irresponsible driving.

Osomatsu whistles, nudging Choromatsu as they stared at the two of you from afar. Despite their earlier sentiments, curiosity got the better of them and they decided to investigate their brother's own private time. It's not like he could file a restraining order against them, he would be tortured.

"Kudos to Karamatsu, I actually salute him for managing to bag a real human being. Didn't think he had it in him." Osomatsu snickers, hands deep in his hoodie's pockets.

Choromatsu appears depleted beyond belief, eyeing you both with evident disapproval on his facial features, "What sort of lobotomized romance was this? Felt more like a simulation."

Osomatsu and Choromatsu sigh, both fully synchronized, and groan out, "It should have been me."

[the-fiction-witch]

Young Love P1

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Adorable

Requested

I have a request can you make one where y/n has been lying to her parents about dating a guy and her parents demand to meet this guy or she will have a arranged marriage with Sneed, so she turns to one of her good friend's Dr. Dawkins and after begging he agrees and the while they have a fake relationship he actually falls inlove with y/n? (Love your stories btw ❤ and could you add some smut?)

I sat in my room as usual in my small book nook, a small divot in the walls due to the strange renovation of our old house that I had lined with bookshelves and a small mattress to form a beautiful nook of books, My book in hand and my necklace pendent between my teeth as I read the alluring words. When my mother burst into my room so I returned my book to the self and sat up. She stood for a moment in her long blue dress fixing her hair a moment. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"You're father wishes to speak with you princess." 

I rolled my eyes but hopped out of my nook and followed her through to father's study,  the room dark lit only by candlelight, his desk tidy and neat, his clothes lose where he had been frustrated in his thoughts, he sat at his desk as usual so I sat across from him as my mother perched herself on the corner. 

"Hello Princess," He smiled,

"Hello, Father." I nodded, "What uhh what brings me to the office today?"

"We have a very important matter to discuss."

"Alright," I sighed trying not to seem annoyed by all this,

"The subject of your social life troubles us." He began as he took my mother's hand,

Ohh no not this again!

"I assure you my social life is fine Father."

"Y/n, Princess, you have turned down the last seven ball invitations."

"I didn't know the ladies that well..."

"You barely wish to come on a walk with us, let alone with your sister."

"I find town too hot..."

"You have refused your last four suitors before even meeting them. All you've done this whole year is sit in your room reading your books."

Well... they had me there. And I do not really have an excuse for that.

"Princess we are worried, the last thing we would want is for you to be labelled a spinster or old maid, we want you to go out and enjoy the social life a young lady should have, you should be attending balls, walking in the town, meeting suitors, courting, falling in love a hundred times a day. as a young lady should." My mother chimed in,

I mean... I am falling in love a hundred times a day, they are just usually unreciprocal, and fictional. "I uhhh I..."

"We want you to fall in love, the sweetness of young love is something we wish to never deprive you of princess." He smiled, "Ohh to be young again my dearest?" He asked her,

"Oh it would be a dream," She smiled, "To once again feel the thrill of a sneak away,"

"The passion of a secret kiss,"

"The power of the vision of you outside my window,"

"The secret little snuggles and loving words in the dark"

for a moment I may as well have not been here, it's times like this I am so happy my parents are so utterly in love, even if it is a little weird to me. But they had always been this way and It was sweet, and I knew they had the best in mind for me.

"So, we are going to have to be... tough on you."

"How so?" I asked,

"If you do not start attending events, social functions, and other such things then... we will have to take our own action."

"Action?"

"You have one month to leave your bookworm cacoon and flutter forth as a social butterfly and show signs of at least attempting to look for a boyfriend or... we shall arrange you a marriage"

"WHAT!!" I got up from the chair, "A month! Father, mother, I am not a social butterfly I am not, I have never been, I never will be, and I do not want to be, Why would you do such a thing?"

"Becuase we want you to be happy, to find a sweet man and feel all the sweetness of love, if you will not at least try then we have no alternative." My mother explained,

"We do not do this out of cruelty Y/n, in fact, it pains us so to see you be shipped away with an arranged marriage, something we never wanted for you, your brother or your sisters, we wanted you to feel the thrill of young love but if you are unwilling we will have to marry you off," Father explained, 

"To whom!"

"Dr Rainsford Sneed has more than once offered over you,"

"SNEED!" I yelled, "I am not marrying snivelling slimy Sneed." 

"Well, we don't have a choice we can not deny him any longer,"

"What if I have a boyfriend!"

"What?" my mother asked,

"What if I... already have a boyfriend, a secret one."

"Ohh my, is it true princess?" My father asked, "Do you?"

"Uhhhhh Yes." I lied,

"Ohh this is joyous news! you know we had suspected that perhaps your lack of social willingness had been from your love for another."

"Yes. Yes. that is the reason yes I have a secret lover. That is why I have denied all others, that is why I do not socialize." 

"We have noticed your, exits."

Oh shit. "My- Yes, yes my secret exists to go and visit with my lover..." I lied, I have no lover, I have no man, and I have been sneaking out to play poker. 

"we have noticed you coming and going, secretly. Princess why did you feel the need to hide such things from us,"

"Well, I..."

"We are overjoyed."

"Of course, we couldn't be happier that our sweet girl is feeling the sweet thrill of young love," My mother smiled "Tell us have you two known one another long?"

"Yes, a fair while now" I lied,

"Ahh wonderful, you two are in love?" My father asked,

"Yes, yes deeply in love." 

"Ohh how sweet, and you sneak out together?"

"Yes,"

"You kiss in secret ways, and love each other intimately?"

"...Yes." I nodded, My parents are strange about this sort of thing always have been, they were utterly in love and were very open with their love and affection to one another and had always had an interest in... my siblings and I's... Sex lives. I assume part of it was them living through us to recall their own happy young love times. 

"Ohh this is such wonderful news." My mother smiled, 

"So I don't have to marry Sneed?"

"Of course not," My father smiled, "We shall have to meet this man."

"Uhh what?"

"We shall have to meet him! we must it is ever so exciting."

"Uhhh yes... yes you uhh you should meet him."

"well then it's settled, dinner on Thursday. you must bring him we insist." My father told me before he sent me back to my room, 

The moment my door was shut "Fuck! shit! why did I say that!" 

I sat in the cat and bagpipes having snuck out for poker as usual, the game going on as usual while my mind raced, I needed to find a man by tomorrow! to bring to family dinner! and pretend he's my boyfriend... 

I need a man. 

But where does one find a man?

A clean one. 

Ehhh he doesn't need to be that clean,

I pondered for a while, most men I know are from poker, and most of them are married. 

But I glanced up a moment as a coin entered the centre, and I looked at the man sat next to me on the table, He sat in his usual grey and half-bloody clothes from his work at the hospital, his jacket behind him and his sleeves pushed up as often due to his skill he was accused of cheating. His cards were on the table in front of him, his face unable to read, he added a coin to the pile and slipped his hand back, his other hand doing his usual trick, of dancing his lucky coin across his fingers. He saw me looking at him and smiled at me but with a questionable look. 

Jack and I knew each other well, as we both had a passion for poker, I'd... go so far as to call him my friend. Was I attracted to him? No. He's just a good poker player and often we'd team up against a cheating dick like Darius. 

And then it clicked... 

Jack is a man. 

Well... close enough. 

The guy gave in and Jack won so the man left the table leaving us alone as he took his winnings to his chest. And then he looked back at me. 

"Something bothering you y/n?"

"Can I ask you a weird question?"

".... Sure," he said a little concerned, 

"You're a man aren't you?"

"... what sort of question is that?" he glared, 

"My question. Answer."

"Yes. I'm a man."

"You have the... thingy right?"

He glared across the table "The what?"

"A dick?"

"... Yes! why are you asking!" He said very hushed, 

"... You wanna come to my house on Thursday,"

"Why?"

"Dinner."

"Uhhh... yeah sure." He shrugged, 

"Good, six. Be Prompt." 

"I will do." he nodded, "Are we playing again?"

"Sure," I smiled taking the cards to deal. 

I stood nervously, I know I should have told him but... he'd never agreed if I did. I got dressed into my little green and black dress sitting in my book nook as my sisters used my room.

"It's ever so exciting isn't it Melody?" My elder sister Magnolia asked from my dusty vanity as she was using my room to fix her hair, 

"It truly is! Ever so exciting!" Melody my younger sister smiled as she was still getting dressed as she couldn't pick what she wanted to wear more, 

"I don't know what everyone is so excited about." I sighed, 

"Y/n. This is a very exciting moment, we are to finally meet the man who has captured your heart." Magnolia smiled

"Well let's not go crazy with excitement, he's just a man Maggie," I said, 

"But he is your man! And that is so exciting!" Melody smiled, 

 "Do we get to know his name?" Magnolia asked 

"Jack."

"Jack, Awww he Sounds so perfect! What does he look like!" Melody giggled,

"Well, you're about to find out."

"I bet he's handsome," Melody smiled,

"Charming," Magnolia smiled,

"Stunning,"

"Sweet,"

"seductive,"

"Compassionate"

"You two are boy crazy," I sighed,

"I'm married! I am only Sam Crazy." Magnolia argued,

"I'm allowed to be boy crazy! I can't get married till you do y/n!" Melody complained, 

"I know, I know just... don't make a big thing out of this," I told them,

"Y/n. this is the first man you have ever brought home, mother is excited, Father is excited, Melody and I are excited." She explained, "We just want you to be happy."

"I know." I nodded, 

Once ready we headed down to the parlour where everyone sat having a drink and chatting, my father and my mother peaking out the window trying to see if they could see who was coming, Magnolia with her husband Sam whispering over a glass of wine, Melody stood by the fire playing with her dress excitedly, and my brother Peter drinking with his wife Lisa, I heard the door and my heart sunk. 

Welp... guess it's time. 

"Go on princess." My father smiled,

So I nodded and headed out the parlour and to the front door opening it up to see Jack with a typical smile,

"Hey,"

"Hi." I gulped letting him in, 

"Sorry, I'm a bit late hold up at the hospital," he said slipping off his hat and Jacket,

"You're fine."

"You alright? You look nice."

"Thank you uhh... Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I am... really sorry." I whispered grabbing his hand and tugging him into the parlour he followed very confused and shocked as he was presented by to my family who all looked at him like he was a prize-winning pig at a fair judging his every inch but looking thrilled and excited, "Everyone, This is Dr Jack Dawkins." 

And of course, a million billion questions came jumping down his throat which he did his best to answer given he had no clue what was happening, I sat on the sofa and just drank to try and avoid this whole situation.

"Wonderful, now dinner won't be a moment you can all return to your rooms" My mother smiled, "Give you all some... alone time." She winked at me, 

and I very quickly ushered Jack to my room and shut everyone out before there could be any more questions. And as I locked the door understandably... he looked pissed.

"Okay! You wanna tell me what the bloody hell is going on!" 

"SHhhhh!" I told him, 

"No I will not shhh what is going on?"

"Jack... I can explain."

"Yeah please do."

"My parents... are weird."

"I noticed."

"They are unhappy about me not being... social."

"You are pretty anti-social."

"Hey!"

"what! you are?"

"And they have this weird thing about being involved in my life, well all our lives really. And they want me to be happy and in love, and active! and I really would rather not. But... they have gotten insistent."

"Insistent?"

"They said if I don't find a boyfriend in a month they'll marry me to Sneed."

"Sneed?" he laughed, "Awww Mrs. Y/n Sneed."

"Shut up Jack." I sighed, "Oddly enough I had to stop them so... I lied, and said I had a boyfriend."

"Okay... where do I? come into all this?"

"I lied and told them I had a boyfriend then they... called my bluff. Said they wanted to meet him and planned this whole dinner tonight to meet him. And I didn't know what else do to so... I Invited you, was gonna pretend you're my boyfriend." 

"Well, that's not cryptic and psychopathic at all..."

"Are you in?"

"Hell no!"

"What!"

"No way! I'm not pretending to be your boyfriend just to satisfy your parents."

"Jack, please! They'll marry me to sneed if you don't,"

"Not my problem." He said, "Maybe if you'd not been so antisocial you wouldn't be in this mess."

"I don't like people you know that,"

"You could have at least asked me? told me I was walking into a fucking meet-the-boyfriend dinner! I thought I was coming to just a simple dinner with you and we'd play poker tonight I was not prepared or warned!" 

"I know I know! I thought if I told you you'd say no."

"yes! I would have!"

"Well, you're here not it too late."

"No, it bloody well isn't. I am leaving." 

"No your not!"

"Try and stop me." He said trying to get past me and out the door,

"No! no no no Jack you're not leaving." I battled with him,

"You can't just kidnap me and pretend I'm your boyfriend!"

"Yes I can!"

"No, you can't! You leave now they'll marry me to Sneed! and I am not letting that happen!"

"You can't just keep me here!"

"Jack Please!" 

"...What?" his face softened and he moved back, 

"Please! Please! Please! I don't wanna marry Sneed, I don't wanna marry anyone this is the only way I can buy myself time, I can get out of this please!" I began to cry, "Please... Please just stay."

He sighed, "Alright, I'll stay." he wiped my tears away, "But I'm still angry with you."

"I know..." I nodded, "Thank you Jack." 

"I wanna be compensated for this."

"what?"

"I'm having to pretend to be your boyfriend... I want compensation."

"Fore, what?"

"My steller acting." 

I rolled my eyes, "Two beers."

"get lost. Beers for two months."

"That's extortionate!" 

"Need me or not?"

"... Ughh! you are infuriating, Beers for two days,"

"Two weeks."

"One week. and... three pounds."

"Ten."

"Five."

"Deal." He agreed, 

"Thank you," I sighed, 

"... Am I gonna have to... be nice to you?"

"Yes." I glared,

"Am I gonna have to kiss you?"

"Maybe."

"My rate is a pound a kiss."

"What! Jack that's insane!"

"My kisses are just that good."

"I am not paying a pound for a kiss!"

"I'm open to negotiations"

"Nothing Per kiss."

"A Pound and a shilling because you're pissing me off."

"Ughh! One cookie a kiss how about that?"

"...I can agree to that." He nods, "Homemade?"

"Yes."

"Alright, It's a deal. but you go back on this and I will tell them everything."

"Fine." I sighed, "But I want an acting performance the globe would be envious of Jack."

"Ohh it will be, just try and keep up with me," he smirked, 

"Dinners ready!" My sister Melody called as she opened my door, 

But the moment it clicked open Jack set his hands on my waist and pulled me close to him kissing my lips, I was shocked! but he was certainly not a bad kisser, I see why he'd be charging a pound for these, I kinda... feel like I'm a dick for lowballing him now. But he pulled back and left me rather breathless before he looked up at my sister, 

"Ohh Do Excuse us." he cooed, "We'll be right down. Won't we My darling?" He asked me,

"Uhhhhh yes, Yeah uhh Tell mother we'll be right down Melody," I nodded, 

So she happily scampered off, and we separated, "What?" he chuckled,

"Warning would have been nice." I gasped straightening myself up,

"Yeah well, I'd have liked a warning about being dropped into a family gathering as the new boyfriend."

"Fair enough, shall we go then..." I gulped heading to the door but he stopped me,

"Before we go."

"What?" 

"...You're gonna have to remind me who everyone is I really wasn't listening when they told me. and also who everyone is in relation to you and by extension me?" 

I rolled my eyes a little, "My parents, mother and father Eliza and Henry. Peter is my older brother, Lisa is his wife, Magnolia but everyone calls her Maggie is my older sister, Sam is her husband, Then there is me and by extension you, and then Melody she's the baby sister." 

"Right... Got it." He nodded 

"Let's get this over with," I sighed, 

"Ahhh young love" He cooed following along behind me,

"You're really gonna enjoy this aren't you?"

"Yes I am." 

[bonny-kookoo]

Can we get a drabble for Lacrymaria olor where Koo is "officially" courting her and what that means in his culture? Thank you.

He's dressed in artistically decorated gowns, gaze serious as you approach him while he stays seated on his throne. You've, for the first time in a long while, been told by him to stay in your shared room for today, and you didn't really know why- you're still not sure. You've been given a simple white short dress to wear- nothing very eye-catching at all, at least not compared to him.

He looks almost.. mad? No. Serious. Determined, even. That's the right word.

One of his hands is resting on a large sword- handle black and worn down from use, but still seemingly polished as he adjusts his grip on it. You walk closer as the guards close the doors, leaving you alone with him, apart from one person, a man you don't know who simply stands by.

"Your attention is mine." Jungkook speaks, his words echoing in the large throne hall, making you shrink in on yourself a little. It's the first time you're reminded of who he is- what he is, and how he rules his kingdom around him.

You included.

"Come here." He says, moving the sword to point at a spot in front of his throne, and you're nervous now as you walk towards where he points, unsure what's happening. For all you know you've been fine until recently, apart from the incident where you've been.. well, the victim of attempted kidnapping. But other than that, you thought you were getting closer-

have you done something wrong?

His gaze softens just a little, and you're relieved to find at least a glimpse of the Jungkook you've been getting to know more these days. He slowly gets up, walks down the steps from his throne to stand right in front of you, sword still in his hand, though the tip of it rests right in between you both. "I'm asking you this once, and I demand an answer that is truthful." He commands, and you stand a bit more straight, nodding shortly. "Where do you place your loyalty?" He asks, and you don't have to think for long.

"..In you." You say, easily, and with confidence. There's no one else you'd ever pledge loyalty to, after all. And from the way the corner of his lips twitch, you seem to have given the right answer.

"I am, with Jung Hoseok as my witness, officially courting you as my mate, partner, and equal half." He proposes, making your eyes widen as he lifts one of his hands, eyes softening once more as you almost on instinct place yours in his. He places yours over the one of his that's already placed on the handle of his sword, before he looks at you again. "With this blade, I will protect and guard you as your mate, from today on until the end of my life." He offers, the man you now know named Hoseok starting to write something down- but you don't avert your eyes from Jungkook, who holds out his free hand, Hoseok moving to place something in his palm before he moves back into his corner. "With this ring, made from the purest metal, I will bind myself to you, and you to me." He continues, sliding the simple silver ring onto your thumb, and you realize that he's already wearing one himself on the same side as you do now. "To last even after death, as I shall follow you even as our time alive comes to an end."

Suddenly, he leans in, angles his face into the crook of your neck, where he speaks a lot lower, and a lot closer. "And with this bite, I will mark you as my own; my partner, my equal, my lover." He says, before you feel him harshly bite down, skin breaking and wound instantly stinging as he truly does what he just said-

mark you with a scar that will last forever.

He leans back, lips slightly red and stained with your blood as you feel it run down your skin, body still in shock of what's happened as he holds out his hand again, Hoseok providing a cloth for Jungkook to use to hold against your wound.

"Hoseok." Jungkook asks, and the man looks up, walking closer. "Take it." Jungkook says, giving the sword to the man who takes it with a bow, walking away to place it back to it's usual place right above Jungkook's throne. You're shaking a bit, mostly from a mix of adrenaline and the cold floor against your naked feet, and he watches with amused interest how you hold onto him. "You can look away now." He smiles, and you let go of a breath you didn't realize you were holding, finally unfreezing your position. "How do you feel?"

"...Happy." You nod after a moment, as Jungkook removes the cloth, folding it neatly before he places it in the pocket of his pants. "Are we like.. married now?" You wonder, and he laughs.

"I assume that is what you call it on earth?" He wonders, and you shrug.

"I honestly am not sure what just happened." You giggle back, as he leads you backwards to walk up his throne and sit down with you on his lap.

"I told you I'd court you." He explains. "And I kept my promise."

"Oh.." You hum, leaning against him. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply, hand running up and down your cooling skin, before he grabs a blanket from the side where you usually sleep at, placing it over your shoulders. "I love you." You say, and his lips turn, morph into a smile as he leans down kiss the top of your head.

"And so do I." He responds, watching you how you close your eyes to rest in his arms.

Right where you belong.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

hello! a little fic request I’ve been thinking on, not pressuring you to write it or anything, just wanted to share.

the y/n is a hot tempered foreign princess who got married to Baldwin when they were both children. she’s very energetic, straightforward, man-like in her character, but has to adapt to fit in the court of Jerusalem and also to „suit” her husband’s calm manner and the fact that he’s ill doesn’t help.

she’s unhappy about it; maybe even tears a little during the wedding, but doesn’t let anyone to think she may be vulnerable (mostly because she understand that that can be used against her in the future after Baldwin dies). but over the time she finds herself drawn to Baldwin because, well, unlike her teachers, he lets her study and play chess with him. he cares about her desires and interests. he also respects her, not just like a woman but as a friend, and a clever one. maybe some of her advice on the politics is used by him at some point (which would be absolutely unrealistic, but really, we’re talking historical romance with a leper king here…). a cute detail would be him gifting her a weapon of some sort to protect herself because he knows how she doesn’t like being treated like she’s helpless. bonus points if he says something romantic and or pathos’y about it.

did I write this whole oc story as a multiple chapter fanfiction in my head? yes, I did. am I going to finish it? absolutely no. but I’d love to read your interpretation!

♧ "Princess" - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Anon! So sorry for taking so long to write this, ive had so many requests. I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind but it was my interpretation and I hope you like it! I dont really like how it turned out as your request had so much detail and my writing does that no justice, but I hope its okay ☺️! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figgures. This is also set pre-film. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

At thirteen years old, marriage was the last thing on young y/n’s mind. But yet, here she was. Soon to arrive in the city of Jerusalem, to be wed to a boy she had only ever met a handful of times.

Baldwin the fourth. The leper, who's mother just so happend to be ready to find him a wife at the same time her father was ready to find her a husband.

She sat in silence for the entire journey, this was uncommon for her. She usually always had something interesting to say or something to observe with curiosity. But as per request by her father, from now on she “had to act like a proper lady. No more of this ridiculous 'masculine' behavior”.

“You will be wed to a king y/n” he had told her. “You must stop acting the way you do. No king will be allowed such behavior from his wife”. 

Her attempt to keep to herself for the journey had been successful so far. She remained silent and still. Just as her mother taught her. “Just how a lady should be”. 

As the city came into view, y/n felt tears begin to burn her eyes. She would never again be allowed to explore the wilderness on her fathers land, or read every book she was allowed to have from the library. She surrendered herself to a life of boredom and suppression. 

Once exiting the carriage, she was greeted by the royal officials as well as the king's mother.

“I am so pleased to finally meet you young lady" she greeted her with a smile "you shall make a fine wife for my son” . Y/n thanked her and was ushered off quickly to prepare her for the hour of the wedding.

Y/n held back tears as servants worked busily around the room. Dressing her in beautiful garments, jewelry, and makeup. She was distraught. But she dare not cry. They could not see her so weak.

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

The events proceeded and y/n barely even looked at the boy she was marrying. She could not bring herself to make eye contact with the man who would rule her life forever.

They told her to smile. “No man wants to see a lady disappointed on her wedding day” the king's mother had told her before they entered the church.

Baldwin himself was nervous about this day but just enthusiastic. Unlike y/n, he was looking forward to being wed to a young woman. He did not want just a wife to serve him, but a companion too. Someone who he could speak to about all kinds of things. Someone who would love him as much as he loved them. When he saw her, she looked beautiful, but sad. Very sad.

He hoped she was not sad about marrying him. Perhaps his illness deterred her from wanting to even be near him.

But she was still beautiful. She was 14, just like him. He could not take his eyes off her. He had met her a few times before, and she interested him deeply, even though they barely spoke. He more so just watched her play and talk with the other young people from his bedroom chamber window, longing to join them if it was not for his illness.

She played more with the young boys than she did with the girls. Always full of energy and life, always talking and laughing. But now, she looked different. As if the light had been drained from her. 

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

When the wedding was over, the young king and queen got acquainted in the boy's chambers. She still seemed very quiet and unsure about his presence.

“Are you alright?” He asked her the second they were alone. “Yes your highness” she replied in a small voice, very different to the excitable tone she used to have. She sighed and lowered herself onto the small couch, turning away from him to look at her hands.

Baldwin thought for a moment, but then remembered that his mother requested he chose a wedding gift to present her after the affairs.

“I have a gift for you,” he said happily, lightening the mood.

He noticed her eyes light up a little at the comment. “You do?”

“Yes, would you like to see it?”

Y/n nodded excitedly, a smile forming on her face for the first time all day. The boy stood and disappeared behind the red, satin curtains that covered the large windows. He returned a few seconds later with something behind his back and a wide smile.

"I had to hide it, so my mother did not see what I chose for you" he explained. This peeked y/n's intrest greatly.

“Alright, close your eyes, '' he told her, the smile still plastered to his face. Y/n shut her eyes with anticipation. When he told her to open her eyes, she was lost for words. In the young king's bandaged hands, he held a shining silver sword with a pale pink ribbon tied around the handle.

Her eyes widened and stared at the sword for a long time before taking it in her hands to admire it. “Do you like it?” he asked, cautiously, hoping he had not offended her.

“Baldwin.. I love it!!” she exclaimed with a grin, jumping to her feet and wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. The smile returned to his face and he put his arms around her waist.

“Now you can defend yourself my love. No wife of mine will be left vulnerable, even if there are men to protect her. She will defend herself, because she is strong.” His words filled the queen with happiness and hope. Perhaps her father was wrong after all and she could remain as herself. At least in the presence of her husband. 

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

From that day on, they were inseparable. Unlike y/n’s tutors and parents, he allowed her access to his entire private library so they could study and read together. He allowed her time to herself, so she could do the things she loved without anybody telling her how to behave.

He quite often went as far as to seek her out for advice on political issues, not allowing her straightforward intelligence to go to waste.

Overtime, y/n became used to her duties as queen, but as much as she learnt to fit the role, she treasured her time alone with Baldwin. He cared about her interests, her desires. He respected her, more than anyone else ever had. They played chess together as well, each game being a delightful battle of the mind.

He saw her as not just a wife, but as a companion and an intelligent one at that. And for this, she would be forever greatful.

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 16/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

It's time we get back to the angel duo.

To those re-reading the fic on ao3, you'll notice some dialogues or descriptions have either been added or changed so it's not an exact replica of the chapters here. It's like little easter eggs of what I didn't get to put back then.

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

Gabriel: How dare you, Michael!

In an obscure corner of Heaven, sat the six remaining Archangels, engaged in a heated debate over what had just transpired between Michael and Lucifer and the Fates. The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. It's as awkward as you think being Emily and Sir Pentious in the room who seemed to fade into the background amidst the chaos.

The moment the others arrived, any semblance of order was thrown out the metaphorical window as questions upon questions were asked all at once. Sir Pentious stood rigidly at attention, though his efforts went unnoticed by the bickering Archangels. He's stiffer than Emily and she...

Emily has never been in a situation as tense like this before; even counting the disastrous court hearing with Charlie.

Since her creation, she had always been told that these are the most fearsome angels in Heaven; that they are both merciful and merciless, especially when it comes to protecting Heaven.

Sera: We strive to be like them, Emily. Our actions must all lead to one goal: safeguarding Heaven.

Emily: But Lucifer was their brother!

Sera: Those in power are always faced with harsh choices. And they stay in power because they can make those choices.

Emily: I still don't understand.

Sera: As Head Seraphim, I am also faced with constant challenges. But I do it all to protect our home. But you, you are still learning. And for now.. this shall be my burden to carry.

Emily: But.... What if I mess up?

Sera: That is why I will teach you, Emily. You still have so-

Emily: No! I mean.. The stories said that Lucifer was their most precious brother but he was still cast down. So what I mess up, Sera?

Sera: What?

Emily: Will you cast me down too?

Sera never did give her answer.

Uriel: How could you keep this from us, Michael? Do we not deserve to know such vital information? Especially when it's about our dear Samael?

Michael: I understand you're all angry. But I only found out mere days ago. I kept coming back just to check if my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. I wanted to be sure-

A resounding bang echoed through the room as the Archangel of Healing forcefully slammed his palms onto the table, causing a collective flinch amongst everyone.

Rapahel: Bullshit! You were going to keep this all to yourself again; just like everything concerning Samael!

Jophiel, who is next to him, is rubbing circles in her brother's back in an attempt to calm Raphael down.

Jophiel: Given your track record concerning our little brother, we have every right to doubt you right now.

Camael: I think what they're trying to say is that you should've told us the second you found out. It doesn't matter if you're not sure, we can be there to help you figure it out. Something as concerning as Samael's death... that is not something you keep for as long as you should have.

Sir Pentious: Lucifer.

A sudden quiet fell over the assembled angels as their attention shifted towards the unexpected source of the interruption.

Emily stares at Sir Pentious is slight horror because her new friend just interrupted the Archangels' conversation.

Camael: I'm sorry?

Emily: Sir Pentious! You can't speak to them like-

But the snake only repeats himself.

Sir Pentious: Hisssssss Majesty's name isssss Lucifer.

For an agonizing minute, no one spoke. Whether it's because of Sir Pentious' correction or their presence, Emily isn't sure.

It was Michael who broke free from the collective stupor. With a weary sigh, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, the weight of responsibility present upon his face. Emily braced herself, anticipating a reprimand for their intrusion, but to her surprise, the Sword of Heaven merely nodded in acknowledgment.

Michael: He's right. We can't keep disrespecting Sa- Lucifer's wishes even if he isn't here with us.

That broke whatever freezing spell the others had, confusion now paints their features.

Gabriel: I'm sorry who are these people?

While that question was directed at Michael, the Archangel of Wisdom directed theirs on the two of them.

Uriel: Who are you?

Emily: I'm uhm Emily, Your Heavenly Grace. I'm the Seraphim in training under Sera.. and this is Sir P-Pentious. Our uh newly redeemed soul from Hell.

She said the last part almost in a whisper but it seems like they all heard it nonetheless because they are now looking at them with pure disbelief.

Camael: Redeemed?!

Jophiel: From Hell?!

Raphael: Are you saying that this was once a sinner soul?!

Sir Pentious took a bit of an offense to that.

Sir Pentious: This has a name. I am the great Sir Pentiousssss, inventor and former resssssident of the hellish realm!

Uriel: H-How is that possible? Were you planning on keeping this from us too, Michael?

Michael and Emily both stood up so fast at that accusation.

Michael: No! I only knew of this today!

Emily: He didn't know!

The Messenger of God only raised an eyebrow at this and crossed his arms, a silent gesture to explain further.

Michael falls to his chair looking more tired than ever before.

Michael: Apparently, this soul arrived here months ago but the Head Seraphim chose not to mention anything to me or any of you.

Emily: Sera just wanted to know how it happened before telling anyone but with what happened that last... extermination, I think she was afraid.

Gabriel: She had the right to. What was she thinking?! First approving of this yearly genocide behind our backs and now this redeemed soul?! Tell me, young Seraph, are there any other secrets you're keeping from us?

Emily: I-

As multiple eyes manifested across the Archangel's form, a tangible sense of unease swept through the room. Michael then made a decisive move, positioning himself firmly between his brother and Emily, a silent but unmistakable gesture of protection.

Michael: There's no more, Gabe. Aside from this soul's-

Sir Pentious: ehem

Michael: -sorry, Sir Pentious' current redeemed status, Sera knows as much as us. Isn't that correct, young Emily?

Emily: Uh- Yes! We have no idea how, he just showed up in a beam of light suddenly. Please believe us.

As Uriel also positioned himself in front of Gabriel, his gaze a silent warning, Gabriel relented, reverting to his usual form and taking a seat, the tension visibly vanishing from his posture.

Michael gives him a silent thank you and controls himself.

Michael: Young Seraph, as much as we are delighted to know that redemption is possible, with the threat of a war hanging upon us, it is too dangerous right now to grant new souls in. We cannot do anything about the current human souls that is entering our gates but we can control those coming from Hell. So we can't let it be known for now- in Heaven or in Hell.

Emily understands but she still felt anger bubbling inside her. This is supposed to be good news! They finally told the top angels and they still need to keep it a secret? Charlie would be so hurt not knowing that her dream is becoming a reality.

Raphael: Damn the war, Michael! Our baby brother is going to die! I am not gonna make the same mistake twice by choosing Heaven over my own sibling. Never again.

Gabriel: What he said.

Emily can't count anymore how many times the Head Archangel had sighed throughout their encounter.

Michael: I know. I would like nothing more that to prevent that. But.. this is the Fates.

Uriel: ...He's right. We all know that even Father can't change what has already been woven.

Jophiel: So what? We just sit here and let Lucifer die?

Michael: Lucifer does not want our help. And we cannot stop Fate. This war will happen and Lucifer will perish in it.

Camael: Then what can we do?

.

.

.

Michael: We delay it.

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

Forgive me if it's a bit messy.

If you can't tell this is kind of in Emily's POV.

I love Sera okay but if I kept a secret as messed up as a genocide, I would probably refrain from telling my bosses that we there was probably no need for it anyway after finding out that redemption is real.

I'd also like to think that the Archangels are just as emotion-driven as Lucifer but only in front of their family. Anyone outside of them sees them as stoic and cold (that's why that is how Emily sees them).

[themisimagines]

oh, you hate to love me

content: inspired by succession (in terms of the drama and tension but not much else), could not be bothered to flesh out the back story so tl;dr you and artem are lawyers in rival firms and keep going head to head in court. one night you both get stuck in a lift and resolve your differences... creatively. characters: artem wing x fem!reader warnings: rough sex, name calling, semi-public sex

Another late night at work. You're coming out of the court file room, where you've been going over the evidence again and again, preparing for round two before the judge tomorrow. The only thing that's keeping you going at this point is the thought of wiping the cool expression off your rival's face – Artem Wing.

Just thinking about his face makes your temperature rise a couple of degrees from sheer anger. In the eight times you've gone up against each other in court this year, you've been evenly matched, winning an equal amount of cases. But each time, it's gotten more and more personal for you, mostly because you swear you overheard him once, telling someone on his team that he thought you were inexperienced and shouldn't have been in the courtroom at all.

And who is he to speak? You know that his parents are basically the law themselves, and it's given him all kinds of leg-ups over the years. You had to work for your position, and you're doing a damn good job of it too. Your boss promised you that if you won this case, it's a likely promotion to partner locked in. So you have to win. But first, you have to get back home and grab whatever sleep you can to pummel that bastard in court tomorrow.

But speak of the devil and he shall appear. As you're waiting for the lift, you see none other than Artem Wing emerging from another room down the hallway, nonchalantly walking down towards the lift too. You wish that the lift had arrived, so you could shut it in his face. But unfortunately, it seems to be extremely slow despite the lack of people using it, and he comes to a stop beside you, giving you a nod.

'Good evening,' he greets you cordially. You roll your eyes. He was probably schmoozing up to the judge, who is probably his godfather or something. You nod in response to his greeting.

The lift arrives and he gestures to let you in first. Who does he think he is? Does he think he's being gentlemanly for the cameras?

'You first,' you insist, and awkwardly, Artem sidles into the elevator although it seems like it physically hurts him to not let you in first. You feel rather smug as the doors close.

'So,' Artem clears his throat. 'What's keeping you here this late at night?'

'Some of us actually put in the work to prepare for our cases.' You retort. It's late. You genuinely have no energy to keep it cordial. What's with the small talk? You've never heard Artem Wing do small talk, ever.

If Artem is shocked by your tone, he gives no indication that he is, but at least it stops his painful attempts at talking to you.

The lift ride is painfully slow.

'Are we... moving?' He asks. You look up at the display, and it seems to be stuck on the 3rd floor. You press the buttons to leave, but there is no response.

'I think we're stuck,' you say, pressing other buttons, and trying to tap the intercom. The person on duty says that they will investigate the situation, and just to stay patient and wait.

'I guess we just have to wait,' you say. 'Sounds like we might be here a while.' You lean against one of the walls, sighing and closing your eyes. Artem stands uncomfortably on the other side of the lift, the distance between you both as far as possible.

You sneak a glance under your eyelids, and see him loosening his tie, unbuttoning the stiff collar of his shirt. If you had to admit to yourself, you thought him attractive on the first day you met, before he opened his mouth and absolutely destroyed your case. Those feelings were quashed pretty quickly, but sometimes you can't help but imagine what things might be like if you were working together rather than against each other. But you've also heard that Artem Wing doesn't date anyone, much less coworkers. Everyone wants to figure him out, but they can't seem to be able to.

'So what are you doing here so late?' you finally ask, just to break the awkward silence.

'The same as you, I suppose. Working on the case,' he replies.

'I thought you were supposed to be a prodigy.'

'I thought you were cleverer than to listen to unfounded rumours,' Artem dismisses you. Ouch, that stings, but you guess you deserve it after being so hostile towards him.

'Well, at least I got where I am now because I worked hard for it, not because my parents got me my first job.'

Artem's eyes widen in surprise at the accusation. His face soon morphs into a familiar one that you've seen at court, when he's raring for a good fight. Your heart is pumping through your chest like you're in court. Triumphant at having struck a blow, at having been able to shake his impassable face.

'Well, at least I don't have a chip on my shoulder,' He retorts, crossing his arms. 'What have I ever done to you?'

'I hate people like you, Mr. Wing. People who think that they're better than everyone else but who actually got where they are today thanks to other people.'

In your anger, you've moved closer and closer to him, until you are close enough that you could reach out your hand and slap that beautiful face of his.

'You are greatly mistaken about my history. I must say I'm disappointed, I thought you were better than this.' Artem shrugs. He's dismissing you. That makes you angry beyond belief, and the only thing stopping you from tearing into him is the fact that when the lift gets fixed, it's pretty obvious who did it, since there's only two of you in there.

'You're disappointed in me?' You get even closer. 'You're the one making unfounded judgements on people. I heard you that day. You said that I wasn't fit to stand in front of the judge. More like I wasn't fit to go up against you.'

'I didn't say that,' The look on his face is one of genuine surprise. From this close, you can smell his cologne, mixed in with his laundry soap and natural scent. His eyes are blue, so blue and soft. You're considering – oh, what the hell.

'Shut up,' you say, and drag him down towards you by his tie to kiss him. His lips are soft and god, does he use lipbalm? He doesn't seem sure what's happening at first, but when he realises that you're kissing him, he doesn't pull away, and instead his hands come around you to clutch you closer, searing heat through your clothes and giving you a longing for his hands to be on your bare skin instead. You bite down on his lip and he growls, just dragging you closer, hands already fumbling with the buttons of your blouse.

It becomes a game of trying to undress each other faster as your lips are still locked, tongues battling, teeth nipping and drawing blood, each trying to get the upper hand over the other, to force each other to concede. When you both finally break apart for some air, you are panting and flushed, your shirt completely unbuttoned and lacy cups of your bra peeking through, thanking whoever's up there that you wore your nice lingerie today. Your skirt has been hiked up your thighs, exposing your stockings with lace rims, held up by suspenders. Your back is pressed up against the corner of the elevator, and Artem is looming over you. He hums in appreciation when he sees you in such a messy state, but he's no better himself, trousers unbuckled and shirt pulled open. You swear you accidentally popped a button, heard it clink on the floor as it rolled away.

You help Artem free his painfully hard cock from his briefs, and in a single swoop, he hikes up your legs, holding you there between the lift walls and his solid body, chiseled abdomen looking extremely attractive from your viewpoint. He uses two fingers to peel your soaking underwear from your cunt, and gives you a hungry look.

'What are you waiting for?' You ask impatiently. The cool air on the entrance of your cunt is making you shiver. Your hips are moving of their own accord, and you long to be filled.

'I'm just enjoying the fact that I'm going to make you come again and again until you're a writhing mess around my cock,' he says casually.

You reach out and tangle your hands in his hair, pulling back hard until his throat is bared, sure that it must hurt him but he's still looking at you with that smirk on his face.

'I bet you come before I'm anywhere near satisfied,' you spit. 'Don't be so full of yourself.'

In response to that, he takes the opportunity to thrust his full length into you roughly, and you both moan in pleasure. Artem doesn't give you any chance to adjust, instead starting a ferocious pace, skin slapping against skin, slamming your back into the lift wall again and again until you see sparks of pleasure beneath your eyelids.

'Look at how wet you are for me,' Artem snarls, not letting up his thrusts. 'And you said that you hated me.'

'I still hate you,' you bite back, and to distract him, you clench your cunt around his length, tightening as you bite down on the soft part of his neck, and you feel his cock twitch – it forces him to slow down, panting as he tries to get himself under control.

'Your tricks aren't going to get me,' he struggles to say, strokes turning long and leisurely, trying to get his breathing under control, eyes closed to stave off his orgasm.

In retaliation, he reaches one hand down to drag your skirt further up and rub at your clit, and your cunt twitches even harder when you're all but crushed against the lift walls, when Artem plunges into you again and again, dragging involuntary sounds from your throat.

'Ah, ah, ah!' you whimper in time with his thrusts, clinging on and scrambling to try and keep your own orgasm at bay. His attentions to your clit are almost sending you over the edge but you can tell that its effect on your cunt is a double edged sword, and Artem is doing his best to keep going without coming himself.

'Just come for me already,' he rasps in your ear. 'I can make you feel so good.'

It's a tantalising prospect, but despite his words, you can tell that he is pleading for his own sake rather than taunting you, judging by the throbbing of his cock deep inside you.

'No deal,' you pant, dragging your nails down his back so that he arches it towards you, the lace of your bra rubbing against his chest. He looks down and that seems to give him an idea. Freeing your clit for a moment, he uses his hand to deftly unclip your bra and free your breasts, before leaning down and sucking hickeys onto the creamy flesh of your breasts, snaring your nipple in his mouth, rolling it between his tongue and teeth. The hand returns back to your clit and rubs and rubs, even as his cock continues to thrust so far into you that you can practically feel him nudging at the entrance of your womb.

All of the sensations come to a head and you can't help it. You cry out as you come, both out of pleasure and disappointment. But just as your whole body starts to shake, a blinding orgasm overtaking your entire body, you feel Artem's cock swell and grow inside you, and then the hot sensation of his cum filling you up, even as he chases the last few moments of pleasure by thrusting slowly, luxuriating in the sensation of his orgasm. His lips seek yours, crushing you to him in a final gasp.

When he finally lets you down onto the floor again, your legs feel like jelly. The intercom suddenly blares to life. They managed to fix the problem, so the lift should be back in action in the next 15 minutes or so. You both scramble to get your clothes back on in some semblance of normality.

When the lift doors ding open, the security men are profusely apologising for the inconvenience, and you and Artem say that it's alright, that it's just late, you want to get back. You feel Artem's cum dripping from your cunt down your leg, a slick memory of what just happened.

You both walk to the carpark, and Artem insists on walking you to your car.

'Well, this is me. Goodnight,' You say awkwardly. He's standing there as if he wants to say something but doesn't quite dare.

'You know,' he clears his throat. 'My car is just over there. I've never really sat in the backseat that many times, but to my understanding it fits two grown adults quite... comfortably.'

'Mr. Wing, are you inviting me to have sex in your car?' You ask disbelievingly. His face turns red and he doesn't want to meet your glance.

'Well... I just thought... It doesn't have to be my car. But if you wanted to do that again...'

'Mr. Wing, I intend on going home and getting a full 6 hours of sleep before court tomorrow, and after I defeat you in court and win the case for my client... well, I don't have any plans on the weekend. I might be able to fit you in.'

'Of course,' he coughs. 'But so... there might be a next time?'

'I'll think about it.' You wink at him, and get into your car.

He taps your window, and you roll it down.

'By the way,' he says. 'When I said I thought you were inexperienced, that was taken out of context. I said that it was incredible you could beat me despite not having that much experience. I could have phrased it better, I know, but –'

You cut him off with a kiss. Somehow, it's comforting to know that wasn't his intention all along.

You drive off, and in the rearview mirror, you watch as he gives a small smile. You can't help but smile too.

[ok555ficideas]

LGBTQ+ community for the win 

You know them, you love them, you root for them. Our beloved players who have against all odds once made history with their college team by breaking the unbreakable Ravens had shocked everyone once again. 

Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard are well known for their rivalry. This season they started to play on the same team and fans knew that it could end in an entertaining disaster. Well, although entertaining, disaster is not something we would describe what happened during the finale between Denver Mountain Lions and Seattle Shadows. 

The finale ended six to five Shadows' favor with Minyard’s exceptional block of none other than Kevin Day’s attempt at the goal. 

The game was a show worth watching, but not as much as what happened after. Neil Josten had run straight to his team’s goalkeeper's arms and toppled him to the ground. The whole stadium went silent in worry that the rivalry was finally going to end in blood, but it soon erupted into cheers as the crowd realized that the pair wasn’t fighting, but rather kissing. 

After the game they refused to answer any questions about their relationship, but after some fans’ deep dives into their social media and public appearances we estimated that the rivalry was always just for show and the love birds had started dating back in college. 

Minyard and Josten are joining Jeremy Knox and Jean Moreau in our queer out couples of Exy and we wish them all the best. 

Joe Abbott for “Exy entertains”, 05.14.2014

Kevin Day does not support the gays 

It has been over half a year since we found out about Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard being a couple. They had faced a lot of hate, but the loyal fans had helped them every step of the way. They had received a lot of support from their current and former teammates as well.

But not everyone is as happy and supportive. Kevin Day, our beloved striker and queen of Exy has been spreading hate on his two former and if the rumors are true about Day switching teams to be on the Shadows next season, future teammates. 

“I think they should focus more on Exy and less on making out on the court.” The olympic gold medalist had said in an interview for the national sports channel. 

The sports world was not always very welcoming to queer people, but it has been going better throughout the years. Is it possible that all the hard work that the queer community has put into being treated seriously in this field will be torn apart by maybe just one, but very influential man? 

We hope not, but we shall see. 

Joe Abbott for “Exy entertains”, 01.17.2015

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