#i was originally going to have 'you better not be running off with that maid' 'already eloping' 'why am I not surprised?' but I didn't know

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Hei-Ran: Do you want poor Yingyong to get surprised by rustlers? Or starve to death? Rangi: We're not going to be here that long! Hei-Ran: You don't know that! Does preparedness not carry the day anymore?

[yinemw]

𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲

context: being megumi’s nanny whilst toji has a crush on you, here’s part two (female reader)

warnings: none, just fluff

character: Toji Fushiguro from JJK

m.list

“Stay for dinner” had left Toji’s lips, a grocery bag full of ingredients in his arms. He hadn’t felt like this for years, the nerves, the uncertainty, even vulnerability. The last woman he had ever cooked dinner for was Megumi’s mother. After that, he had only ever bought enough food for himself and Megumi, not that the small child ate so much. His arms flex around the bag as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Or not. It’s up to ya”

You watched him shift his gaze from yours to something else in the kitchen. He was certainly acting like a different man, so unlike the cold one you met when he had hired you as Megumi’s nanny. Warning you that if you so much as left a scratch on Megumi’s skin you’d be ‘dealt with’. The same man who had threatened you, was now asking you to stay for dinner. “Oh uhm, you mean you want me to make dinner for you and Megumi?”

“No” Toji frowns, placing the bag on the kitchen counter and starting to take out the food. “I pay you to take care of my son, not me. Like hell I’d ask you to cook for me, a grown man. I’m asking if ya want to stay for dinner”

You both hear small feet running through the hallway, Megumi rushing over to you, earning a roll of Toji’s eyes. He knew how smitten Megumi was with you, he liked you more than his own father, at least that’s what it looked like from the outside. “Is Y/n staying the night?” Megumi asks, small hands gripping your pants.

“Not the night” you laugh softly, scooping Megumi up in your arms. Seeing the resemblance of the same grumpy face Toji made whenever he was unsatisfied with something. “But I guess…for dinner? Would you like that Megumi?”

The small boy nods his head, a rare smile on his lips. One that disappeared when his father walked up to you two, taking Megumi from your arms. The pout on the small boys lips only deepened as he made grabby hands towards you. “You don’t even say hello to your dad when he comes home?”

Megumi doesn’t answer, so much sass for a toddler you think. The relationship between Toji and Megumi was a little difficult to understand from first glance, but after having been a nanny for a few months for the Fushiguro’s, you knew the two showed their love in their own way. Even with Megumi’s pout and silent treatment, he leaned into his father’s neck, his chubby cheek smushing against Toji’s collarbone.

“Let me make dinner and you can spend time with Megumi” you suggest, already starting to go through the food Toji had bought. Trying to figure out what the dinner plans were.

“You’re not my maid, I’m not expecting you to make food Y/n” Toji places Megumi on the floor, ruffling his hair before quickly making his way to you. Fingers wrapping around your wrist to stop you and take the onion out of your hands.

“Toji I—” you turn your head to look at the taller man, only now realizing how close he was. His fingers still wrapped around your wrist, chest brushing against your shoulder. Body heat radiating off of him as you caught a whiff of his natural musky scent. “I insist, I can’t possibly just watch you make food. I want to help”

Slowly, he places the onion back in your hand before backing away. Reaching for a cookbook that you knew belonged to Megumi’s mother. Megumi often talked about it, how Toji always followed the recipes from the cookbook because those were the recipes his mom used to cook. Not that Megumi had tasted her cooking, but it was what Toji had told him.

Toji opens to a page that had the recipe to make vegetable soup. A few scribbles over the original recipe that had changed some measurements and added ingredients. “Megumi’s mom added her own ingredients and liked to change the recipe to her own liking” Toji speaks up when seeing you stare at the scribbles. “It tasted better like this so, I follow the same recipe”

You let out a hum, starting to prepare the food. Taking out a pot and getting out the ingredients to make the broth. Megumi sitting in the living room, watching TV with the two dogs. You and Toji working together in the kitchen was foreign, Megumi was used to only having one adult at home at a time. You were always here during the days and leaving whenever Toji came home from his work. Or whenever Toji had his night shifts, you stayed the night, sleeping on the couch or in the same bed as Megumi to comfort him after a nightmare. And then you left in the morning yet again when Toji came home. So it was something completely new for Megumi to hear the laughter and chatter from the kitchen. The house was lively for once.

“Make sure to follow the recipe exactly” Toji grabs your hand, stopping you from adding salt to the boiling soup. Handing you a teaspoon instead of eyeballing it. “It has to be like it’s written”

Without hesitation, you follow the recipe exactly and add 3/4 of a teaspoon into the soup. It was clear it went deeper than just the flavor of the food. But deciding not to bring it up, you set the table and tell Megumi food is done instead.

For the first time there were 3 people sitting and eating at the table together. Megumi looked between the two of you, liking how it made him feel to have the two of you here at the same time.

After dinner, Toji is the one to put Megumi to sleep. Tucking him in under the blanket as the two dogs go and sleep in their dog beds put beside Megumi’s bed. “Sleep well brat” Toji says as he ruffles the small boys hair before standing up.

“Can Y/n move in?” The small boy asks before Toji leaves the room. Standing by the doorway, back facing Megumi as his fingers stay on the light switch.

“What?” He asks, slightly shocked from the sudden question. Toji knew Megumi liked you, more than any of the other Nannie’s, but asking you to move in? That took him by surprise. “Y/n is just a nanny Megumi, she’s not…” he lets out a sigh, not even knowing himself what he was going to say.

“You laughed”

“Hm?” Toji turns around, eyes meeting his son’s dark blue eyes. Perhaps the only feature he has gotten from him and not his mother.

“You laughed today, you never laugh. Doesn’t that mean she makes you happy too?”

Toji stays silent, wondering how on earth his child was asking him questions like these. “Just, go to sleep Megumi”

Walking downstairs, Toji’s frown deepened furthermore when he sees you pack up your things. The kitchen table clean, dishes washed, leftover soup put in the fridge. “I hope you’re aware you’re staying the night”

“Sorry?” You jump slightly, not having heard him come downstairs.

“It’s late, I’m not letting you go out there alone. Just stay the night, sleep in my bed and I’ll take the couch” he says casually, one arm on his hip. Wearing his usual clothes, compression shirt and sweatpants. It was honestly a little hard to concentrate on what he was saying, sometimes you wondered if Toji himself knew how handsome he is.

“Your bed? Oh no no no no, I couldn’t possibly do that. I’ll sleep on the sofa it’s fine, I often sleep on it whenever you have a nightshift”

“Stubborn” Toji grumbles under his breath, getting a blanket and pillow for you. Placing them on the sofa as you hesitantly sit down. “I’m giving you a raise”

“A what?” Too much was happening, honestly. You didn’t quite understand what was going on. Toji inviting you to stay for dinner, then to stay the night, and now giving you a raise? It was all so unusual of him, yet he seemed unfazed.

“A raise” he repeats, sitting down beside you. “Whatever keeps you around, Megumi obviously likes you and I’ve been earning well recently. I can afford to pay you more”

“Toji I can’t possibly accept that, you already pay me more than any other nanny job I’ve had. If you give me any more I feel like I’m stealing from you”

He lets out a snicker, resting his arm at the back of the couch as his body was turned towards you. He was so close, not saying a word, just gazing into your eyes. It was a rare moment, to see Toji up close like this. You could count his eyelashes, see the stubble he was too lazy to shave immediately, the dark circles under his eyes from long shifts, the scar on his lip more apparent now. All you could do was admire his face, waiting for a reply after your statement. “Toji?”

“You know, I didn’t like you in the beginning” his voice comes out softer than usual. Eyes not leaving yours, it was intimidating and…something else. “You took so good care of Megumi, didn’t ask any questions about his mother, did your job perfectly, didn’t give into my bullshit or threats. I didn’t like it, because I knew I’d get attached” he confessed, swallowing hard. “I can’t do this without you Y/n. You bring a certain type of energy the other Nannie’s failed to do. Megumi likes you so much, even on my days off when I take care of him, he asks if you’re coming over. He’s gotten used to you, I don’t think I can find any other person out there who can take care of Megumi the way you do…so if giving you more money will get you to stay even longer, that’s exactly what I’ll do”

Your eyes were wide open, listening intently to what Toji was saying. It was clearly hard for him to be open like this, every once in awhile looking away from your eyes and down at his hand instead. The same hand his wedding ring used to be on. “I’m not going anywhere Toji” you reassure, placing your hand on top of his. It was almost like a reflex. Whenever Megumi was upset you always held his hands and told him everything was going to be okay. “I didn’t accept the job to get paid well, I liked your family, that’s why I chose to come and be a nanny for Megumi. It had nothing to do with money, and it never will. I’ll stay and take care of Megumi for as long as you’ll have me”

Toji lets out a chuckle, looking down at your soft hands holding onto his rough one. “Even when Megumi is a teenager, you’ll still be his nanny if I want you to be? Pack him his school lunch, make sure he stays out of trouble, watch him on the porch with me as he walks to the school bus?”

“If that’s what you want” you whisper, softly caressing the skin on top of his hand. The house was silent, all you could hear was the drumming of your heartbeat in your ears. Was this really happening, was this Toji’s way of confessing. You would be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for the man. You’ve just always decided to be professional, take care of Megumi, that was your job. Yet you were still here, on the couch with Toji, holding his hand.

“What if I lose you too…”

You had never heard Toji with such a softness to his voice before. He looked so fragile and vulnerable in the moment, you didn’t know how to react. Reaching out your hand, you brush his bangs behind his ear, letting your fingers glide down his cheek, cupping it. “We can’t know anything for certain, but I swear Toji, I’ll never willingly leave you or Megumi. You won’t lose me”

Without hesitation, Toji leans in and places his lips on yours. Muscular arms wrapping around your body and pulling it against his. The palms of his hands rest against your warm skin, making sure you don’t pull away as his lips move against yours, gently. So gently it felt as if he was scared he’d hurt you. Feather light kisses trailing down your jaw and neck before connecting his lips right back with yours once again.

You could feel the texture of his scar against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. Pulling him even closer, the kiss deepens. More desperate. Toji became more confident, feeling how your body reacted to his touch. You liked it, even craved it. So did he, it had been such a long time since he had kissed anyone, and he couldn’t have been happier that it was you who changed that.

“I had a nightmare”

Both you and Toji freeze, pulling away from the kiss, noses bumping into each others. Turning your head to the staircase, Megumi stood between the two dogs, rubbing his teary eyes as he looked at the two of you.

Toji’s arms were still wrapped loosely around you, a part of him not wanting to let go. Clearing his throat, he looked at you before he spoke up “want to sleep in my bed?” He asked the small child, Megumi nodding his head immediately.

“With Y/n too”

“With Y/n too” Toji repeated his son’s words, standing up from the couch and reaching out his hand for you.

Megumi fell asleep soundly between his father and nanny that night. The first night of many more to come.

[aegonstradwife]

conception | aegon targaryen x reader

summary: anonymous requested; you and aegon have 4 daughters. while aegon is in a meeting they discuss the fact that the king doesn’t yet have a male heir. otto suggests aegon taking a second wife to have a chance at producing an heir. it pisses aegon off that otto would even suggest that.

warnings: talk of general misogyny, established relationship, smut. (riding, creampie.)

a. note: link to the original request.

It's a warm day, perfect for taking the girls out to play in the courtyard. They are glad to be free of their daily lessons, and you of your queenly duties.

One day away from such responsibilities couldn't hurt, and the sun shining down on your grouping had you in higher spirits than you had been for months.

Until you spied your husband stalking his way through the corridor toward you.

Initially, you lit up as you saw Aegon, as did your daughters upon seeing their father; he is so often away from them in council meetings or tending to other kingly duties.

For Aegon, seeing his wife and daughters makes him happier than he's been all day. It's a rare sight, seeing him smile so warmly, especially these days. But sadly, it doesn't last long.

The girls may not notice, as Aegon scoops the youngest into his arms, but you sure as hells do.

That menacing look, the red rimming his eyes. Telltale signs that Aegon isn't feeling his best, which unfortunately have been more prevalent of late.

"Aegon?" You lay a hand on your husband's arm, squeezing. "What's the matter, love?"

His violet eyes lay upon your hand squeezing his arm, and he tries to keep his terrible mood in check, so as not to take it out on you or the children. "There's nothing wrong, my dear."

But he refuses to meet your gaze as he presses a kiss to your daughter's forehead.

"Nothing?" You raise your brows, studying him. Something is wrong. Perhaps something you'd better not discuss around the girls....

"Ladies, why don't we break for lunch?" You announce, herding your daughters to one of the maids nearby.

With one last kiss to her chubby cheek, Aegon sets the youngest down and allows her to waddle off with the rest to the kitchens.

"Talk to me, my love." Once alone, you run your hands up Aegon's arms to his shoulders, kneading. "What happened? I thought you were meant to be at council all day...."

The king grumbles, frustrated to be questioned by you, but at the same time relishing the feeling of your talented hands kneading the tension out of his shoulders. Of which there is a lot.

His gaze meets yours, and there's a hint of annoyance in it, though whether at you or other matters, you can't initially tell.

".... Otto has brought a most pressing matter to the council today."

The breath he takes next is measured, trying to keep his composure, though he finds doing so much easier in your presence.

"What?" You frown, any number of terrible things flashing through your mind. All of them ending with the palace in rubble, your family ruined as Rhaenyra takes the throne. "Is it her? What awful thing has she done now?"

You dig your fingers ferociously into Aegon's shoulders.

A small pained noise escapes him, though he tries not to wince as he places his hands over yours to loosen your grip.

"It's not Rhaenyra." He continues to stare at you, his eyes full of an exhaustion you wish you could wipe away. "It's Otto."

You smooth your fingers apologetically over his shoulders, soothing the hurt. "So you said. What did he say?"

Aegon closes his eyes, that furrow between his brows relaxing for just a moment, as your fingers stroke him, before returning. He pauses, unsure how you're going to take the words that must next fall from his lips. Knowing they might hurt you. "He said we need a son, that we desperately need a son and soon...."

Your stomach falls. You knew this was coming - for years now you've only been able to produce girls. With every birth, Aegon's joy only grew, and your worry along with it.

What if you couldn't produce an heir at all? What if -

"We'll keep trying," you say resolutely. "I know I can give you a son. Just let's keep trying, please...."

"That's not all that was mentioned." It looks like it physically pains Aegon to tell you this. "The matter of a second wife was also raised, to try and help produce a male heir...."

You know husbands - especially kings - often take second wives when the first is unable to birth a son. Gods, it will about kill you if Aegon turns to that ...

At a loss for what to say, and feeling tears threatening to spill if you utter so much as a word, you cling speechlessly to Aegon, hoping for him to make it all better.

His hand is under your chin, cupping gently, forcing you to look at him. "But.... what if.... what if I don't care for a son?"

Shaken by this declaration, all thoughts of crying banished in worry, you clap a hand over your husband's mouth and glance around for any passing servants. "Do not say that, Aegon! What if someone were to hear...?"

A determined hand encircling your wrist, he pulls your fingers gently from his mouth, a grave look on his face. "And if they did? Why is it so important they think we care about a son? Why.... why couldn't one of our daughters be queen? Rhaenyra seems to think she has some claim to the throne. Why not our eldest?"

That intense stare does not waiver as he continues to peer at you.

"Aegon, please, not here..."

The cogs in your head are turning, as you grab him by the hand and pull him along into a spare room, Aegon following silently along.

It seems he, too, is thinking about what he's just said as he closes the door behind you. His expression is still earnest when he turns to face you.

You turn to face him at the same time, arms crossed. "You're saying you would name Syryn as your successor, as queen?"

"Yes," comes his simple yet fervent reply. "If Rhaenyra believes Viserys named her heir, then surely I can do the same?"

You chew thoughtfully at your cheek. "Otto will never accept it. I doubt the smallfolk would either. Isn't that why we're in this situation in the first place?"

"You think they won't accept it?" Aegon asks, cornering you and placing his hands on your shoulders. "I'll make them accept it. I'm the king, damnit. I don't want a son, I don't need a son. I have everything I need already."

The conviction with which he says it almost makes you believe it. "And.... you don't want to at least keep trying? For a son? Or even another daughter?"

Seeing your husband all worked up like this is making you feel.... things.

Aegon notices the immediate change in your expression, the way you look at him, your need for him.

"We will keep trying.... but not because I want a son."

His hands relinquish their hold on your shoulders to instead grab for your hips, gripping them firmly and pulling you flush against him. That earnest look in his eyes is now dark with desire, gaze roaming hungrily over your body.

Your hands come to sweetly cradle his jaw, humming contentedly as your body is pulled to his. "I love hearing you talk about our family this way. I love knowing you love us and will do anything to protect us, as king."

Twining a lock of his hair around your finger, you look up at him through your lashes. "I would love to give you another child, Aegon. Son or daughter."

He purrs as your fingers weave further into his hair, his hands tightening their grasp on your hips, pulling you ever - impossibly - closer.

Aegon leans down, breath hot against your ear, and breathes, "Then you'd better be prepared to keep trying.... over, and over and over again."

You can't help but grin, ecstatic at Aegon's joy over your family. You wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders and kiss him; a biting kiss, teeth clashing, tongues sliding over each other.

"We should try now," you gasp, tugging at the back of Aegon's jacket. "While the girls are at lunch and you have some time away from the council."

Aegon groans agonizingly into your mouth before he pulls away, gaze now even darker.

"Such a desperate little thing, aren't you? Wanting to take advantage of your husband while he can spare the time," he teases, pulling off his jacket and tossing it aside.

Even just those words - Aegon calling you desperate, seeing you for what you truly are - are enough to make your legs tremble.

"Oh please, Aegon. Right here, I need it here."

The room you've found yourselves in is bare, with naught more than a fireplace and a few suits of armor dotting the perimeter.

As such, you pull him back toward the wall and lean yourself against it, fingers dipping under the collar of his exposed tunic. "I need to feel you, my king."

Aegon presses you back against the wall, your back aligning with the cool stones, his body now pressed firmly against yours. His lips find your neck with a huff of hot air, kissing and nibbling, hands grabbing for every bit of you they can reach.

"You're always so needy, so desperate," he mutters. "I'll give you what you need, my wife. I'll give you everything you desire."

As his hands work their way over you, yours do the same over him. His body has the perfect amount of cushion to it - being held against him is the most comfortable feeling in the world.

"Aegon...." You whisper, lifting a leg to wrap it high around his waist. "Give me another child. Please."

A deep growl escapes him at the wrap of your leg around him and he presses forward, wanting to make sure you can feel every searing inch of him against you.

"You want another child, do you?" His lips blaze a scorching path to the collar of your dress, which he tugs out of the way with his teeth. "You want me to fill you up and give you what you need?"

In a hurry to have him inside of you, you gather your skirts and pull them up with a quick nod. "Let's not waste too much time. Someone will be looking for one of us sooner or later."

He whines as your gown is hiked up, revealing the smooth, creamy skin of your legs and the heat between them. He runs his hands over those legs, leaving burning trails in their wake.

"So impatient," he murmurs, "but I have to agree with you."

He hunches down, positioning himself properly between your legs, and curls his hands around the backs of your thighs. "Wrap your legs around my waist, love, and hold on tight."

With your back still anchored against the wall, you wrap your legs tightly around your husband's hips and allow him to lift you from the ground. Your hands are still moving all over him, eventually skimming down to his trousers, which you start to undo the buckle of.

Aegon grunts his approval, allowing you to unbuckle his breeches. His gaze never leaves yours, though, as his breaths grow shallow.

"Gods, you're going to be the death of me one day," he sighs, hands squeezing at your thighs. "You always know how to drive me absolutely wild."

At this angle, it's hard to get your hand all the way inside the opening of Aegon's pants. But you do manage to circle your fingers haphazardly around your husband's half-hard cock and give him a few solid pumps to bring him to full hardness.

"And the way to drive you wild is to ask you to fill me full of your babies, isn't it, Aegon?"

His breath hitches at the feeling of your hand around him, a frustrated groan falling from his lips. His entire body quivers with desire as he leans in. "You know me too well. The thought of filling you with my seed, of giving you more children.... it's enough to drive any man wild."

"Any man?" You 'tsk.' "Doesn't the thought of just 'any' man getting me pregnant make you jealous, my king?"

With your legs already around his hips, it's hard to get the waist of his trousers low enough to allow his erection to pop out and Aegon has to help you, shoving the constricting material down so that the head of his cock can nudge at your folds. "I'm wet for you.... can you feel it?"

Though he doesn't say it aloud, he feels a sharp pang of jealousy at your words, a possessive need surging through him. He growls, hands gripping your thighs even tighter, eyes practically blazing with desire.

"Don't play with me. I know you're teasing, but it's enough to make me lose control." He leans in even closer, breath blistering against your skin. "Put me inside, my love. Let me feel you."

Arching your back away from the wall, you position yourself so that Aegon's cockhead is pressing insistently at your opening. "…. should I make you beg to fill me up?"

That simple question sets his body quivering with yearning for you. His fingers dig into your skin as he tries to hold on to his composure, but failing all the while.

"Please…." He groans, his voice low and hoarse. "Please, my love, let me fill you up. I need it, I need you."

"Good boy," you sigh, and after a quick peck of a kiss to his nose, you begin to relax the muscles in your back, allowing your wet cunt to slide down on Aegon's cock, welcoming him inside of you.

Aegon's eyes roll back in overwhelming pleasure at the feeling of your warm, wet heat around him. With a sharp inhale, he redoubles his hold on your thighs, pulling you down onto him as he begins to move with you, matching your rhythm perfectly. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mingling with your moan and Aegon's desperate grunts. Aegon's face finds your neck again as he continues to drag you down onto him with abandon, deeper and harder with each thrust.

"You feel so good, my love." His voice is tremulous, hands beginning to shake where they hold you up. "I'm not going to stop until I get you pregnant again."

And it all feels so dirty, the hem of your gown trapped around your waist as your husband pulls you down by your hips, driving himself into you. Your hands try to grapple for purchase at the wall beside your head, but then settle for resting your wrists at Aegon's shoulders, tips of your fingers clawing and scratching at the back of his neck.

"Please, Aegon…we don't have long. Someone might come looking soon…" At this point, you don't even care if you climax, as long as Aegon's seed finds its home deep inside of you.

In response, Aegon nods, hips now moving even faster as he feels your nails digging into his neck. He can feel his own release building, evidenced by the way his chest heaves and his face has gone pink all over. The need to give you what you want is overwhelming for him.

"D-Don't worry, my love," he gasps. "I won't last long like this."

And with that, he gives one final, powerful thrust, burying himself deep as he empties himself inside of you, shouting your name like a war cry.

There are few things in this world you enjoy more than the feeling of Aegon's warm seed splashing inside of you. You hum, eyes rolling back, as the king spends himself inside you.

He pulls you close, holding you tight against his chest. "I love you," he gasps, with a kiss to your temple. "And I love our daughters. Fuck a male heir. Syryn will be queen."

Capturing his lips in another kiss, you run your hands gladly up and down his chest. "Syryn will make a great queen. She already bosses the other girls around like it's her job."

Aegon chuckles, pulling back to look down at you with a gleam in his eye. "I think she takes after her mother in that regard."

[tonixe]

"When you scream, it drives me nuts If you hang up, I'll spill your guts"

n.o.t.e.s - Tbh the original is always better.

w.a.r.n - non-con to dub-con, NSFW (ofc) penetration, blood kink, creampie, fingering, just plain nasty.

p.a.i.r.i.n.g - Stu macher x fem!reader

w.c. - 1.9k

"Creak~"

There was a strange noise that was coming from downstairs of your house. You woke up from the strange noise, and your breath hitched as you heard the noise coming closer.

You got up from your bed slowly as you inched closer to your door, as you look outside your chamber's door. Nobody was there, your parents left on business. They left you alone, alone with your maid, alone with your butler, and alone with your bodyguards.

As you look at the big ben clock perched on the hallway's wall.

2:00 am

The window was glaring in moonlight, making the hallway more daunting. You were born in rich family, your parents barely being there as they were almost all on business, either with each other or away. Most of your house help was gone, and your guards already sleeping, as you heard soft snoring.

Your thought was interrupted with soon fear covering your whole body, as you heard a loud thump, it didn't alert your guard as they kept on snoring.

You walked back into your chambers, as your window was open, you quickly peered out and closed in, covering the window with silk purple curtains. You sighed, realizing it was a broken tee branch, it was odd, the tree wasn't dying just for the branch to fall off.

There was another noise, your phone rang. It was 2:00 am in the morning, there was no way it could be your parents or your friends, maybe it was Tatum and couldn't sleep.

You ignored the thoughts running through your mind, as you sat down on your bed in the dark look g at yourself in the mirror, before covering yourself with a blanket, ready to back to your slumber.

You gingerly got up from your bed and answered the phone that was propped near your vanity. You answered with a quiet but audible, "Hello" you mumbled from out your sleepy lips.

"Hello beautiful" an almost sounding rough voice, deeply satisfying, dare you say sexy voice spoke from the phone, maybe it was Tatum pulling a prank on you, "What do you want?"

"Can't a stranger have a conversation with a pretty girl" the voice ranged out, you couldn't lie the little pet name and compliment were making your heart flutter.

"At 2:00 am at night, buddy?"

"Sure why not, I mean your still on the phone with me, a stranger"

" I got to go, I have school tomorrow"

"That sucks, doesn't it"

"Ya, that's why I gotta go now"

"Wait-" the stranger said quickly before you could place the phone back.

"Yea?"

"Wanna play a game?"

"No, thank you" before you hang up the phone, "Hang up on me, I'll fucking spill your guts" the once calm voice turned ominous, as it said the threat on the landline.

Your heart started pounding from the threat, and your eyes started to water up as well, and you heard noises from the stairs.

"So, do you want to play the game now?" the ominous spoke out.

You didn't respond, the sound of your hitched breathing was being heard through the telephone to the stranger that was calling you, you muttered a small yes, still audible to be heard.

"I'm glad you came to your sense, darling" the voice cooed at you, you felt sick to your stomach, as fear covered your body, plaguing your mind.

"Mmm, let's say Horror as the category of the questions"

"First, who was the first victim of Freddy Krueger?"

You weren't a fan of horror, but know some of the horror characters from all the movies your friends watch on opening night, especially Billy and Stu, "T-tina Gray!" you yelled out, "It was her", you answered as you cautiously exited your room looking around your surrounding, walking down the stairs.

"Good, really good" the voice spoke,

"Second, who was the original slasher of Friday the 13th?"

Fuck.

"Um, JASON!" you yelled out, The sound of the stranger clicking their tongue was heard, "Damn, and I really thought you were smarter than that Y/N" your heart dropped when the stranger mention your name.

"H-how did you know my name" you whimpered, as you dashed down the flight of stairs, "It was fucking Pamela, everyone knows that poor Y/N,... but since I'm nice, I'll let you redeem yourself, but it not looking good for your dear bodyguard" As the stranger uttered his words, you stopped to see a shattered window, and a dead body of one of your bodyguard, the body had stab wounds, bleeding out from his mouth.

You released a blood-curdling scream, as you ran away from the body to the kitchen. Tears started running down your face, as you grab one of the chef knives from the rack, arming yourself.

"Y/N, you know better than that, everyone knows when there's a killer in the house you should be quiet, but for now let try a game of hide n go seek"

Your breath was shaky, "P-please no" you whimpered.

"Well you have to know, not everyone in the fucking world get to have everything when your born, your parent should taught you better, than spoliing you with riches, Y/N, your just the girl that dies in the end nothing more and nothing less.

"What did I do to you" you cried in the phone, slouched down near the counters, your face wet with tears.

"It's too late to beg for mercy, just try to live through the night~" the voice ranged out as the stranger cut off the phone call.

The house was silent, it was eerily silent. The one you couldn't dare to breathe in.

You started crawling to find shelter, before you saw a figure in your house, holding a knife and wear a black robe, wearing a white ghost mask.

Your breath hitched, as you pressed your hands to your face. The figure's footsteps were silent, barely even heard. You crawled near your garage before you even got to the knob. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach as your face came to contact with the ghost mask.

You screamed and ran, as the hooded figure chased after you, you clutched your knife to safety, still managing to hide behind one of the doors, you peered out, seeing the ghost figure swinging its head.

Clutching your hand to your mouth to make less noise, the steps of the figure came near you as you heard the creak of the wooden flooring.

"Hah..haah" you breathed, your breath hitched as you heard the figure stopping near you.

You felt the figure near you, their murderous intent radiating onto you. You heard the figure walking toward you, and you sighed quietly, as soon you did, the figure came from behind you, knocking.

'AHHHHH!' you screamed running upstairs, as the figure chased you with a hunting knife. You ran up, as you slammed the door at the figure moving your closet to your door, you tripped landing onto your bed.

The sound of your door rattling, as you heard the slamming of the door, and your whimpering was heard.

"Come on, Y/N, don't be a bad girl for me now" the figure spoke from the door, as you were scared by the figure smashing your door, their arm becoming visible, as you backed up from your bed to your closet.

"P-please...PLEASE!" you cried, as the figure finally got out and opened the door, walking slowly toward you, their hunter knife in hand.

Your salty tears dried onto your face, and you held onto your closet. The Ghostface figure grabbed you by your hair, and you scream out. The figure throws you onto your bed, as you squirm.

"Y/N, you have been a very bad girl" the figure holding your face, as the figure brought their head near you, their mask touching your face. The figure touching your thighs, "I'll let you live if you grant me a favor" the figure's hand slowly inching underneath your nightgown.

Your intimate parts slowly become arousal, as their hand inches towards your underwear, "Let me...have my way with you, and be a good girl, and you'll live" the figure whispered in your ear before retracting back.

"O-okay" you muttered, as you threw your head to the side, avoiding the mask, your breath hitched when the figure slowly took off your panties.

Placed it in one of their pockets, the cold air hitting your arousal, as you gave a silent moan, as tears were building up from your lashes, and you whimpered out.

The figure took off one of their gloves, and their hand got inserted into your plushy wall, as you squeeze their fingers. "F-fuck your so tight, it's wonderful how it feels when my cock is inside" your wall squeezing his fingers tighter, "haah~" you moaned out, as he thrust into you.

His fingers thrust into you, as you arched your back, moaning out, the warmth from his hand being withdrawn, as you looked at the figure taking off his pants, teasingly at you as you threw your head to the side, full of embarrassment.

"Your so eager aren't you"

"You gotta beg for it baby~"

"P-please"

"You have to do more than that, haha"

"P-please, just fuck me already" you rubbed your thighs together, as you spread your pussy lips for the murder. You felt disgusted with yourself, you're giving yourself to a murderer that killed, not even 20 mins after"

"P-please" you gently touch the tip of his cock.

You swore you saw the figures dick getting harder, as the tip started dripping precum.

"I cant wait to fuck the shit of ya" as the figure lined up to your pussy, not even a moment you felt the sharp pain inside of you, as the figure started thrusting into like a animal.

"Haah~" you moaned, your back watched as your eyes crossed between each other, lolling your tongue out.

"Shit, I was right. You're so fucking tight" he groaned out, as the figure gripped your thighs. Their thrusts were getting sloppy by the second, as they grabbed their hunting knife slitting the top of your nightgown, your breast jiggling from the animalistic thrust.

Relief came down on your body, as you moaned out.

"Your skin is so soft, isn't I wanna the mark the shit out of you" the figure soon carved your skin as blood pricked up. The cut soon appears throughout your body. You looked messy, like a porn model, and your nightgown was turned into rags.

"Do you want me to cum inside of you baby~" the figure grunted, "P-please" you moaned out, your eyes half lidded.

As the thrust got sloppy, as soon you felt warmness filling up your pussy, as you heard groaning from the masked killer.

Panting was heard throughout your room, your ripped clothes sticking onto your sweaty body, feeling your body growing tired, as the last thing you saw was the masked killer getting redressed.

The phone ranged, as Stu picked the phone, as the caller was Billy, one of his best friends.

"So did you kill her"

"No not yet, just saving her for something special" as Stu place a blunt between his lips, lighting it up, as he started at the window of your home.

"You got to be fucking serious, Stu, I swear to god if your plan doesn'work I'm going to-"

"Chill dude, it's gonna work, just trust me Billy" as stu blew out the smoke.

"-Just trust me"

[pinkkittysaw]

CHAPTER II

- MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?

← chapter one

series master-list can be found here!

summary: the night of your brother’s annual birthday ball takes an unexpected turn

paring: knight! clive rosfield x princess! reader

word count: 9,613

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI! you will be BLOCKED!) heavy plot, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving) handjob, power imbalance, dirty talk, spit, slight humiliation kink, parental loss.

disclaimer(s): although this series is inspired by the medieval and regency time periods, they are not 1:1 representations. although i will always do my best to represent both as accurately as possible, there may be some minor changes.

some of the plot points in the original game story have been altered or taken out to fit this au better. there are no eikons

a/n: i want to dedicate this chapter to my AMAZING friend, and fellow writer, jordy (@cryptictongues) who not only let me bounce ideas off her constantly, but also beta read some of this chapter as well. thank you for everything!!!!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

dividers by @/saradika-graphics and art is by edmund blair leighton

A month or so passed since your last tryst with Clive, leaving the relationship between the two of you to be strained with pent-up tension. In light of the momentary heat of passion, you both agreed that such conduct would be better kept private, in places where no wandering eyes could intrude, so as to not arouse any more suspicion. There were to be absolutely no dubious behaviors in public, which proved to be undoubtedly difficult.

With every promenade you'd take around the castle grounds, you'd see him training, all sweaty and flush in his fit form, and all you'd be able to think about was mounting him then and there, riding him until you were both run ragged.

Your confidants and lady's maid have caught your prolonged glances during your strolls in the sunshine, but you've always met their accusations with a dismissive flap of your hand fan, stating that you were "simply curious about the training regiment that the knights were conducting," even if your eyes always lingered on one knight in particular. Baddies

There was talk around the palace for a while about the sudden disappearance of a certain scullery maid, but seeing as the crown had more pressing matters to deal with than the loss of a single maid, one who could easily be replaced, any investigation resulted in the conclusion that she had simply "fleed her duties," and it was left at that.

In reality, though, you had visited her late in the night after your passionate affair with Clive many moons ago, offering to pay off her debts and then some if she swore to secrecy that nothing she saw that night would make its way into the ears of the public.

The amount of gil being offered was unlike anything she could have ever imagined. Seeing as your father amassed insurmountable fortunes during his reign, idle gossip wasn't worth the consequences if she were to be found out as the source of the rumor, so she took the small fortune and fled the palace walls that very same night.

Now you find yourself sitting in another store room, one that's presumed to be in less use than the previous one, perched upon an old barrel.

A royal ball was in attendance, and all nobility within the realm were invited. The occasion? Your younger brother and future heir to the throne's birthday. He reached the tender age of one and twenty, which just so happens to be the legal age of marriage in your country, so, of course, your father invited all the reputable debutantes in the realm in hopes that your brother would secure a future queen, though he'd never admit to such schemes out loud.

You were hoping that tonight would be another secret rendezvous with your lover, but you haven't so much as gotten a single word with him all evening.

All you had thought about during the preparation was how you were going to tease him throughout the night. The gown you had selected to wear was chosen with him in mind. The silhouette hugged your figure to perfection, and your cleavage was heavily accentuated in the lavender muslin. The hem was detailed with a layer of tulle tulips, and crystals of various sizes decorated the bustline. Put simply, you looked ravishing—the epitome of the most elegantly cut diamond.

Your father would spare no expense when it came to his son's birthday ball, so you were in luck to some degree, but the only man whose eyes you wanted on you was nowhere to be found.

The ball was supposed to provide perfect cover. All the orderly staff would be at your father's beck and call all evening, and he'd be too busy showing off your brother like a prized chocobo to notice your disappearance, leaving you to your own devices after a certain amount of time.

You and Clive would be able to sneak off without a trace or care in the world, but for some reason, every man of nobility just happened to be extremely insistent upon getting in at least one dance with you, all whilst having meaningless conversations regarding topics you couldn't bother yourself with caring about.

The ball started off well enough. You knew you couldn't immediately disappear into the shadows; you owed both your father and brother a dance to start the evening, as was tradition for the royal balls in your country.

The three of you walked out into the ballroom together. Your father went first, then you and your brother in succession.

The room was lavish, as it often was whenever such events were hosted in your kingdom. Multiple chandeliers holding long wax candles filled the ceiling, and the light reflecting off the gems on your gown made you shine beautifully. A golden hue encapsulates the entire room, casting wispy shadows and twinkling shapes on the hardwood floor. Your family emblem was painted in stark white chalk at the center of it. Various flowers from the royal gardens hung in sconces around the perimeter of the room, with vines filling out the empty space in between. Fine fabric in your kingdom's colors was draped over the windows in high arch shapes.

Scanning the room, you look for where to make your grand escape. After a few dances and perhaps some intermingling at the refreshments table, you'd be skittering along the ballroom walls, hiding in the shadows, before making your exit.

There was still a short amount of time before the guests started to file in, so after the final touches were made to the decorations, you took your place on the dais next to your family, with your father in the center and your brother to your right.

The royal knights line up in front of the small stage, and though Clive is always the pinnacle of orderliness while on duty—excellent posture and great form—you swear that you catch his eye as he files inside the room. He's not so careless as to let his emotions wear on his face while in the presence of others, especially your father and the Lord Commander, but you're certain that the slightest tinge of pink floods his cheeks at the sight of you.

As the knights continue to get into position, your gaze falls upon Clive's shaggy hair, reminiscing about how the thick yet soft tendrils felt between the length of your fingers as he made his presence known between your legs moons prior.

Your father's voice reels you back from your fantasies as you clear your throat slightly and hope that the bright lights of the chandelier won't give way to your previous thoughts.

Nobles from all across the realm begin to file in and make their greetings, some familiar and some new. A part of you is surprised that all these people traveled from their home countries just to visit your brother, but you supposed that none of the nations wanted bad blood between your kingdom and theirs.

After all the introductions were made, your father began his long-winded speech about your brother, the future of the country, and how proud he is of how far his children have come. The smile plastered on your face feels stiff, and your thighs feel as though they're about to collapse from the amount of curtsying you've been forced to do.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you're granted some relief from the spotlight while the band sets up on the stage where you and your family previously resided.

You make your way over to the refreshment table, nodding and curtseying to the fellow noble ladies as you make your way over to procure yourself a glass of iced lemonade.

It was not even three seconds later that your father was introducing you to some nobleman.

"Dearest daughter," he starts. You take a deep breath and settle your princessly smile on your face once more before turning around.

"I'd be pleased to introduce you to the Archduke of Rosaria and his mother." You gaze upon the both of them; this is the first meeting you've had with the current Archduke of Rosaria. You met the previous archduke, Elwin, when you were still of tender age, before your brother was born. You scantly recall the details of the meeting, only that he gifted both you and your mother bouquets of Rosarian wildflowers and that he had a penchant for making you laugh (as later on confirmed by your mother).

It's clear, though, that the man standing before you bears no resemblance to his father, sharing the same icy eyes and pale hair as his mother.

"His Imperial and Royal Highness, Joshua, the Archduke of Rosaria, and her Imperial and Royal Highness, Annabella, the Dowager Archduchess of Rosaria," your father continues, giving you room to make your formal introductions.

"It is an honor, your Highness," you state, giving a swift curtsey to the both of them, and although Annabella merely nods to you in acknowledgment, her son gives a full bow in return.

"Come now, Joshua. There's no need for that," she chastises, as if her son were still a child and not a grown man.

"But mother, how could I not marvel at the beauty bestowed upon me?" He responds in full. At your astonishment at his bold declaration, he takes your gloved hand into his own and presses a delicate kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Might I say that your gown looks exquisite tonight, my lady? You shine bright like a diamond." Both you and the Dowager Archduchess share a similar look of shock on your faces, and even though you can't see your father's expression from behind you, you're sure that he mirrors both of yours.

Heat floods your face as your eyes meet Joshua's, then his mother's, and although their eyes bear the same shade of cerulean, her gaze pierces through you like daggers of ice, whereas the strawberry blonde beside her carries a lot more warmth.

Time stands still, and you wonder if such flirtations were a product of his father, seeing as his mother held very little kindness or regard in her heart.

You feel your father's hands on your shoulders and realize you've spent the last minute or so gawking at Joshua and his display.

"Please forgive my daughter; she isn't used to such blatant declarations of affection from esteemed gentlemen." It's at your father's statement that your brain kicks back into gear. Your hand is withdrawn, and an immediate curtsey follows in its place.

"My sincerest apologies, Your Highness." As you raise your head, your eyes meet Clive's just across the way from behind Joshua, but he's quick to refocus and march forward in front of him.

"No apology is necessary," the Archduke smiles, "though if you truly wish to win my forgiveness, you'll allow me your hand in a dance."

Before you even get the chance to respond, Annabella interrupts, "Joshua, you mustn't. Think of your health."

"Mother," a domineering smile plasters itself on Joshua's face, "certainly I have enough energy to last me at least one dance with the most elegant princess in all of Valisthea."

Annabella sends another harsh glance toward her son before muttering, "Of course," and  taking her leave elsewhere.

Joshua heaves a heavy sigh before extending his hand, silently asking for your dance card. You raise your wrist and allow him to pencil himself in before he gives one final bow, and retreats toward his inconsolable mother.

Your father exhales the breath you were unaware he was holding when the band gets in position for their first song. Both you and your father take place in the center of the ballroom as the first dance of the evening.

You couldn't help but notice as you scanned the faces in the surrounding audience that someone was missing. As the starting notes boomed from the instruments, you whisper to your father, "Papa, where's Dion?"

Prince Dion, next in line to be the Emperor of Sanbreque, had grown to be one of your close friends—well, as close of a friend as a princess could have when confined to castle walls for most of her life. You were close in age, and given that there weren't as many young heirs throughout the realm at the time of your childhood, it was only natural that the two of you would become fast friends.

Rumors quickly spread that you and Dion would become betrothed when you were older, securing an indisputable alliance between both nations, but as the years trickled on and both of you came of age, no such proposals were made. After he became leader of the dragoons, it was apparent that one such proposal would never come, but you weren't deterred; if anything, you were relieved.

You held love for Dion in your heart; you'd known each other since you were children, but the love you held wasn't the type of love fostered between two individuals who were passionate about each other romantically.

Your father's face held a quick grimace before lowering his voice as the two of you prepared to take your first steps in tune together. "Dion is busy preparing for a war effort; he sends his regards."

"What?" You mutter, trying to keep the look of shock from developing on your face.

Though you and Dion couldn't frequently meet in person, the two of you penned missives back and forth. In none of your most recent correspondence with each other, had he mentioned anything in regards to an oncoming war.

Your father wasn't a gossip, but being the ruler of an entire kingdom, one must be well knowledgeable about the state of other nations.

He lowers his voice even further: "It seems that the King of Waloed is insistent on reclaiming his territory from Sanbreque."

"Dion never mentioned anything of the sort in his letters."

Your father gives you a lopsided smile in an attempt to reassure you: "He probably didn't want to worry you unnecessarily, especially with the ball coming up."

Your father was more than likely correct in his assumptions, but you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach.

"I'm sure Dion will be alright," he adds, brushing his thumb over your hand after noticing the newfound stiffness in your movements.

You nod. Dion was and is strong; he turned the tides for Sanbreque in battle many a time before. This was a fact, but something about him having to go against Waloed's army shakes you to your core.

Your father and the king of Waloed, Barnabas Tharmr, were amiable allies for the most part, but you've heard stories, many in particular when he visited your kingdom after the death of your mother. You were still young then, so you couldn't quite grasp the weight and meaning of the whispers your handmaidens had shared in secrecy upon his arrival.

He visited annually for some years after his initial visit before they died down altogether, though you could never ascertain what the meetings were for besides the first one.

Barnabas was kind enough, as one of his nature could be on his trip, but you could never help the feeling that something more sinister lingered beneath the surface when your young eyes met his.

You did your best to quell the unease in your heart and continued to dance with your father. Although he had gotten up there in years, he still moved swiftly across the ballroom floor, even if you had to slow your steps a bit.

It seemed that just as soon as the dance with your father began, it was over, and you were anxiously anticipating the next dance with your brother. You go hand in hand with him while the band begins to play.

"So, Crown Prince," you begin, filling the air in an attempt to quell your nerves. "Future heir to the throne, how does it feel to be Papa's favorite?" You smile, albeit teasingly.

"Surely you jest, dear sister. For without you, I'd be hopeless."

"Now who's jesting?" Your grin graces your face once more as the two of you glide across the ballroom before a somber expression soon replaces your previous jubilant one. "It pains me to think that this ball may be the last time we see each other like this."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Look at all the people here," you whisper to him, "surely you don't think Father is just merely celebrating your birthday. You're twenty-one years of age now, dear brother; officially legal to be wed."

"You don't truly think he'd see to it that I'd be married right away, do you?

You both twirl around, and your father comes into view, standing next to the royal guard.

"Maybe not right away, but you know how he is. Ever since Mama died, all he's wanted is to see our futures secured, and in your case, our bloodline. If that means marrying us off early, then so be it, I suppose. At least you have the luxury of choices in who you'll marry."

"Then how come you weren't married off as soon as you came of age?"

"Because you still needed me. You had no mother to set an example, so I needed to be in your life to show you how proper noble ladies should act," you snirk as he rolls his eyes. "If I'm speaking honestly, I feel the answer is more sentimental than logical. I don't think Father wanted to lose another member of our family before we were both of breeding age."

"I suppose you're right. It's more than what most fathers would do. Now that I'm able to be wed, do you suppose that'll hasten his plans for your marriage?"

You sigh, the thought has lingered in the back of your mind since your brother grew out of being a child. "I'm not sure, but who knows?"

"Don't look so down," he smirks. "If you reach spinsterdom, you'll always have a place here with me."

You smile kindly. "Thank you."

As the instruments die down, signaling the dance coming to a close, you once again find yourself on the outskirts of the ballroom. You snag a look at your dance card to check where Joshua has penciled himself in. A waltz, of course. He'd undoubtedly use this opportunity of close quarters to flirt with you some more.

His name was listed far enough down the line that you could make a break for the storeroom now, and...

"Your Royal Highness!"

The next hour and a half was filled with nothing but dancing, with only a few minutes of rest provided in between.

You had been skirting along the edges of the ballroom when you just so happened to catch the eyes of an old presiding duke who resides in your kingdom, and it was all downhill from there.

What was supposed to have been a "romantic" evening was turning into a disaster. At every turn, you were swept into the arms of yet another elderly gentleman looking for a younger and more agreeable wife.

As you twirled and spun around the hardwood flooring, you were afforded only mere glances at your lover from afar. Every time you laid your eyes on him, he always appeared to be preoccupied with something else. Not that any of your concurrent dance partners would've noticed your wandering eye, as theirs were doing much of the same.

If there was one thing that all these men had in common, it was the ogling. Some of them "tried" to be more polite about it than others, going for glances at your cleavage in between the minimal required time they had to actually look you in the eye instead of blatantly staring at your chest the whole time.

It was clear, though, that all of them were oblivious to just how obvious they were being with their gaping looks, not realizing that you could tell when people were talking to your chest instead of your face.

Though you're certain that a drink limit was set for this ball, it was becoming quite clear that a majority of the "gentlemen" had imbibed to their pleasure, the smell of port lingering on their breath whenever they'd lean in close. 

After a while, you had managed to escape all your suitors and camouflage yourself in a nearby group of gossiping noble ladies, the majority of them being mothers, who were well-equipped with an onslaught of questions about your brother and the future of the kingdom.

After quelling their curiosity, you nestled yourself in a corner, facing the wall of the ballroom, and let out an exasperated sigh, taking a few moments to collect yourself.

You were beyond frustrated, both sexually and mentally. All you desired was to climb between the sheets with your lover and have him pleasure your body until your thoughts were reduced to a mindless fog. To say you were having intense urges was an understatement.

It'd be easier to deal with if Clive wasn't a member of staff that you saw often, like a cook or a coachman, but being your sworn shield, he was in your presence a majority of the time. So close, yet so far.

His touch was often the source of your fantasies at night. Your mind wanders, flitting between thoughts of his scruff against your neck, his breath on your skin, and how his strong hands would grip your body.

You were never able to help but wonder what your first time together would be like. What does he look like when he comes? What does he sound like? Does he moan, grunt, or whimper? Would he be gentle with you? Similar to how he grasps your hand when helping you step down from a carriage, slow, languid thrusts into your heat as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, both of your bodies clinging onto each other for purchase. Or would he be rough? Similar to how he fights: powerful, unrelenting thrusts into your cunt, overwhelming as he batters into you, stealing the breath from your lungs. You were often unable to decide which scenario you liked better as you reached your climax, whispering his name as you came down.

You know you shouldn't have such intense lust for someone who's working in your service, but knowing that just excites you more.

"Princess!"

You release another deep exhale as you turn around. You're really starting to get irritated at the word "princess."

"Your Highness!" you exclaim with a half gasp. Apparently, Joshua was set on keeping his promise of a dance.

"My sincerest apologies," you curtsey.

He gives a dismissive wave of his hand before extending it toward you. "You owe me no such things, my lady. Are you still willing to accept my dance proposal?"

"Of course, Your Highness," you place your gloved hand in his as he walks you to the dance floor, and you can't help the smile that rises on your face as you take your place together.

"I know it's against propriety for you to deny me a dance, but I'm not so cruel to force a lady when she doesn't want to."

"It's a pleasure, Your Highness. I assure you. You're perhaps the most polite man I've danced with thus far, besides my father and brother, of course."

His hand makes its way to the small of your back as more couples fall in toe behind you and the Archduke. Your conversation lulls until the music picks up, your hand delicately resting on his shoulder.

"Although I am most disappointed to hear that these gentlemen would treat a beautiful woman such as yourself with little regard, I can't deny that I'm pleased to be the only one who's seemed to win your affections."

This man.

As much as you try not to fawn over the attention, his words are like silk in your ears, as if they're the most natural sound you've ever heard.

It doesn't register that you're smiling so brightly until he comments on it: "You have one of the most radiant smiles, my lady."

You shake your head from side to side as if trying to regain your composure. Despite all the time you shared with Clive over a month ago, you weren't used to such blatant flirtations in front of so many people at once. Even if they couldn't hear your conversation, the smiles on both your faces single you out from the other couples on the floor. It leaves you feeling exposed, as if a bright light has been shone on both of you.

"Forgive me if I speak out of line, Your Highness," you inhale, "but where on Valisthea did you learn to become so charming?"

He offers a chuckle and a swoop of his strawberry-blonde hair. "I'm quite a fan of the written word. It was often one of the few escapes I truly had as a child, so I may have picked up a few techniques after reading a romance or two."

"Perhaps you could lend your novels to some of the other gentlemen here so they can learn how to properly woo a lady."

"And risk losing being the sole recipient of your affections?"

"Feeling insecure over your abilities?" You cock your head to the side, a small smirk appearing on your lips.

Joshua ponders the question for a moment, putting on a good face of deep thought as if he's truly rolling the question around in his head before responding, "More so like...I don't want to give the poor blokes false hope when I'm sure to come out on top anyway."

"It seems that you're very confident indeed."

The two of you chuckle as he twirls you around, only to be met with the scorn of Annabella's icy gaze after locking eyes with her from the other side of the ballroom. The joy in your expression quickly dies off, and the figurative noose tightens itself around your neck, suffocating the life from your lungs.

With your newfound stillness, Joshua has to guide you back into his arms. He looks off in the direction of your eye line and sighs before speaking once more, "I apologize on behalf of my mother."

"You needn't do so for my sake," you're quick to respond, attempting to reassure him that you were unaffected by Annabella's glare.

"Do you think I can't sense the dread in your eyes?" He smirks, and you offer a strained half-laugh in response while waiting for him to continue.

"I was frequently ill as a child, thus it was very rare to step foot outside the archduchy," he clears his throat, "after my father had passed, it seems that her protective nature only grew."

"I'm sorry about the loss of your father. I've only met him a handful of times, but he was always very kind. My mother once told me that I frequently laughed in his presence." You understood Joshua's pain well, having lost your mother during the birth of your brother years before the former Archduke passed. 

A solemn look graces his features before he relaxes once more. "He was a good man, from what I can recall from my memories of him," he pauses, "I can only hope that I can be half the man he was when it comes to ruling the archduchy."

You take a moment to mull over your words before voicing them. "It seems like you've managed to capture his kind and generous spirit. I'm sure you're already well on your way to living up to his name."

"You're very kind," he nods, and a genuine smile fixes itself on his face, unlike the charming one he's graced you with before.

The music slows to a stop, indicating the end of the waltz, and Joshua walks you back to the fray of the ballroom as slowly as possible. "Perhaps this is inappropriate to say given the present company, but I'd love to call upon you some time."

A part of you is surprised, not expecting a courting proposal from someone you could actually tolerate. Being thoroughly charmed, you agree.

"There's a jousting tournament within the next fortnight. It's always an invigorating time. You should attend if you're able."

He takes your gloved hand in his, raising it until your knuckles graze his lips. "I'd be most delighted to attend. Until then, my lady." He releases your hand and turns off in the direction of his mother, who looks all too unhappy with him, and you, by extension.

You sigh, ready to be completely done with the evening. You move toward your father, ready to meander around where he sits near the dais, hoping that any lingering suitors would see him situated nearby and turn the other direction.

Once you've raised your head and made your way toward your father, Clive comes into view. He's moving toward you at a fast pace, and before you can stop yourself, your feet turn to guide you in his direction instead. Momentarily forgetting your place, you call out his name, though it's difficult to hear over the chatter of the ballroom.

At the same time, two overlapping voices call out to you. One is Clive's; the sound of his voice is more familiar to you, but there's another that cuts through the air.

A gruff "princess" is all you're afforded in terms of a greeting.

Both you and Clive come to a halt and turn in the direction of the unknown voice.

The man has a familiar face, though you can't exactly place from where you know him. He's around your father's age, with wrinkles lining his eyes and forehead as well as dashes of grey in his facial hair, so you conclude that your father must be how you've made his acquaintance before.

The man is decently handsome, more so than the other creeps you've had the displeasure of dancing with. He has stark eyes, almost crystalline in nature, which are a sharp contrast to his raven-colored hair.

These traits prove to be startlingly similar to those of your current lover, but you decide it's best to dissect that later.

Clive is the one who breaks the silence. "My sincerest apologies, Your Majesty."

Your majesty?

You offer the man a curtsey in apology while Clive bows, but the stranger pays you no mind, choosing to focus on the knight instead. 

"Is something the matter?" Though it's merely a question, his voice carries a wealth of command behind it.

"Nothing that can't wait," Clive begins, his eyes flitting between you and the unknown—at least unknown to you. "Please pardon my intrusion." He bows to the both of you before stalking off toward your father.

You suppose you'll be informed later if it's truly so important.

The silence fills between you and the man again before he asks, "May I have this dance?" His mouth quirks up in a smirk.

“It's only a country dance; nothing too intimate,” you think to yourself.

If you were being honest, the last thing you wanted to do was begrudgingly endure a dance with this gentleman after having more than your fair share of imbeciles indulge themselves in your assets, but propriety comes first. So instead of telling this man to kindly fuck off, you put on your best princessly smile and place your hand in his.

"Of course," you reply, and he leads you toward the floor.

You stand next to each other in between other couples before the band begins to pick up once again. The melody starts slow enough, so you take this time to ask the man exactly who he is, keeping your tone light and polite.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty; it seems that I remember the face but not the name.”

He must've made his entrance later on in the evening after the formal introductions, because you certainly would've remembered him during the greetings.

He offers a light chuckle before muttering, "Barnabas, King of Waloed."

King of Waloed. The very same king who's planning to go toe to toe with one of your closest confidants. He's aged quite a bit in the fifteen-odd years it's been since you've seen him last; it's no wonder you didn't recognize him. 

Your body language gives you away despite your best efforts, and his laugh pierces through you. "It seems my reputation proceeds me."

The disdain is thinly veiled in your voice. "Don't you have a battle to prepare for?" you grit, and he laughs again as if the prospect were beneath him.

"I'm not worried," is all he offers in response. His presence must've been what Clive was trying to warn you about.

You take a deep breath, seeing it best not to stir anything up in the public eye.

You get a better look at him when the succession of people in the line with you turns around. He certainly doesn't dress like a king—definitely not one like your father. There are no bells and whistles to his outfit, no ornate capes lined with exotic furs, or gilded crowns.

If anything, it seemed like he'd dressed down for this event, and you can't tell what pisses you off more: his pompous attitude toward heading into battle that may surely send Dion to an all too early grave or his nonchalance in showing up to a royal ball in only a blue tunic and black leathers. It felt like a jab. Though his pompousness in battle may be deserved, this blatant display of disrespect was not.

He gave the impression of a venomous snake, intriguing to look at but ultimately best viewed from a faraway distance.

It takes everything in you not to grind your teeth together and overemphasize the stiffness in your movements.

As if sensing your irritation with him, Barnabas probes, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

No, you're quite simply NOT!

"I've gotten to the age where these sorts of gatherings lose their luster."

It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. As you got older and balls became more about finding matches, you started to dread them. You were hoping that it being your brother's birthday would be enough to spare you from marriage prospects, but alas, you were clearly wrong.

"A shame," he mutters, his words lacking enthusiasm.

The group moves along to the beat of the tune when Clive comes into your view, talking to your father.

"Who's that brooding fellow you're staring at?" Barnabas asks, trying to cut off whatever is taking your attention away from him.

The two of you move in succession toward the back of the group when it registers just how much you've been gawking at Clive in Barnabas' presence.

"Him? He's my first shield," you answer nonchalantly, letting no indication of fondness slip into your voice.

Barnabas snickers, "I had no idea noble ladies were so heavily invested in the lives of their shields."

"I know naught of what you mean," you scoff, acting like the princess you are.

His voice rises in volume as he declares, "Why don't you let a real man take care of you?"

Heat floods your body at his words, and you do little to hide your disgust.

"Excuse me?"

"He's nothing but filth," he continues to say, and the rage inside you reaches a boiling point.

"You speak of him as if he's nothing but a lowly street rat."

"He might as well be, compared to us. You could have an entire kingdom of knights protecting you as well as one of the most powerful men in the realm, instead of just one lowly feeble knight."

"Are you always so incorrigible toward those who are beneath you? It's a miracle that your kingdom still stands."

He laughs out loud, beside himself. You were sure he'd have your head. Instead, his volume just gets louder, so those dancing alongside you can hear.

"I've heard rumors that your precious first shield is actually a royal bastard, but from whom he's a descendant, I've no idea. A man of his standing is simply not fit to be in the position of protecting a princess. I'm just looking out for you."

If you were feeling rage before, now you're furious. As much as the people in your dance group tried to be respectful, heads couldn't help but turn at Barnabas' accusations.

Whether Clive being a bastard was true or not didn't matter; you refused for someone who valiantly defended your life to be made a mockery of over such trivial matters in your eyes.

"I was the one who held the sword that knighted Clive!" You start off loud, similar to him, but your voice gets lower as you draw near.

"My father gave him a title under his tutelage. Clive's been protecting me since I was the tender age of twelve years old and is the only man I'd trust with my life outside of my father and brother."

There's a pause before you continue.

"If you wish to win my favor, it'd be wise to watch what you say in regards to him," you grit.

You're not sure when the rest of the group stopped dancing alongside you, but by the time you realize it, all their eyes are on you. Though the people outside of the circle couldn't hear your conversation, the crowd caused those on the fray of the ballroom to turn their attention toward you.

Barnabas only snirks, scanning your face plainly when you turn back to face him. Your glare is prominent as he escorts you back off the dance floor once  the music dies down.

He speaks in a low voice, right in your ear, "You're a feisty one, but don't worry, I enjoy a challenge." He smiles menacingly before releasing you.

All the wandering heads seem to return to their original activities upon the group's dispersal. You don't want to cause any more disturbance, something you're sure you'll get a lecture for later on, so you give a curtsey to Barnabas, lowering your head.

"I shall bid you adieu, Your Majesty." The words are choked out, and not a moment later you're turning on your heels and making your exit out of the ballroom.

Which is how you ended up in an old store room, with nothing but your various frustrations and the ebbs n flows of silence to keep you company.

You're not sure how long you've been sitting there, but by the time you hear the door open, you're convinced that it was a servant sent to escort you back to the ballroom, but instead, it's Clive.

There's no hesitation in his movements as he steps toward you, catching your face in his gloved hands as he reads your expression.

"Are you alright?" He asks. Even if there's no threat of physical danger, that doesn't mean emotional scars weren't left after your interaction with the king.

"I tried to warn you...I tried to-"

You cut him off, "I'm okay, Clive. A little embarrassed, but it's nothing I couldn't handle." You smiled softly at him, which he returned in full.

"What were you two talking about?"

Warmth flows throughout your body once more, and you don't want to admit that the cause of the outburst you had was because of him, so you act nonchalant.

"Nothing of importance."

He raises his eyebrows like he doesn't believe what you're saying at all, but he doesn't press you on it, not now at least, and you won't give him the chance to when you ask, "Jealous?"

He smirks, shaking his head back and forth slightly. "Do you enjoy tormenting me, my lady?"

"I beg your pardon."

"Do you enjoy watching my torment? Does it give you pleasure?"

"I'm afraid I know naught of what you mean. Have you perhaps forgotten your place, knight?" You put extra emphasis on the word as you toss a smirk his way.

He backs up from where you're sitting on the barrel. "All those men, dancing with you, ogling you. All the while, I'm forced to stand by and watch them all make a pass at you."

You offer a faux pout. "Aw, come on. They're not all bad."

"Enough of them are."

"Are you truly so jealous of those who're above your peerage?" You can't help but snirk in amusement. This was the first time you'd seen him act like this.

"Yes, no!" He takes a deep breath to collect his thoughts: "The Archduke and that bastard king."

Your eyebrows rise at his declaration. "You hate them so much that you've forgone proper titles?"

He rolls his eyes at your statement, and you're unable to hold back your giggles. You hop off the barrel and take his face into your hands.

"There is absolutely no affection for that king in my heart, I assure you. As for the Archduke, though he is roguishly charming, I happen to prefer meaner mugs to delicate pretty features like his," you move to press a kiss to his cheek.

His head hangs low in shame. "I cannot deny that jealousy and resentment burn in my heart at the thought of you with another."

"Believe me," you say, stroking his cheek, "I'd much rather spend my time with you than with stiff men who smell of port. I've been looking for an escape practically all evening.“

"They don’t deserve you at all, my lady. Those men don’t deserve to know the softness of your skin,” he lowers his mouth to place delicate kisses on your neck, then moves toward the exposed flesh of your bosom above your gown.

"Clive," you gasp, tangling your fingers in his thick locks.

“They don't deserve to know the sweetness in your voice when you cry out in pleasure," he whispers, pulling away from your skin to trace his thumb along the frame of your face.

“I’ve missed you," he states.

“I’ve missed you too.”

He pulls you into him for a kiss, one full of hunger and desperation, eager to taste each other once more. The kiss is sticky; the clear gloss painted on your lips transfers onto his. He’s licking into your mouth as your lips brush against each other, tongues wrestling each other for dominance.

You're moved backward until you're pressed against the storeroom wall. Clive reaches down, grazing your bum with his palms over the fabric of your skirts before lifting your legs in the air. The back wall holds you steady as he wraps your legs around his waist.

Desperate to get close to him once more, not even wanting to separate for a second, you pull him back into you and kiss him fervently, not wanting to be parted from each other. He angles his hips toward you, teasingly grinding himself into your heat, causing you to whine into the kiss.

“Looks like you did miss me, hm?” He separates from your lips, moving to kiss down your neck once more.

“Let me make it up to you for being so neglectful of your needs.” He continues kissing down your neck, moving over to your décolleté, and then finally down the swell of your breasts.

“Founder, how I wish I could mark these tits,” he murmurs, dropping your legs back down onto the floor so that he can skim your torso and squeeze at your chest through the fabric of your gown.

“You have an intense infatuation with my breasts, don't you?” You giggle, laughing at his awestruck countenance while he continues to knead the fat in his hands.

“You've no idea." He smirks at you, then suddenly kneels before you.

“What are you doing?” You pet his hair softly as he looks up at you.

“I’m just being a good knight, my lady. On my knees for you, like I should be.”

"Oh, really now?"

"Mhm," he mumbles, taking your gloved hand in his. “I truly did miss you, and I plan on showing you just how much.” He reaches towards the hem of your gown, bunching it up over your navel.

"If you'd be so kind as to help hold up your skirts, my lady."

"I suppose I should be so kind." You lift the hem of your dress over your hips as Clive places your leg over his shoulder.

“Now this is how I shall swear fealty to you,” he leans towards your bare mound, planting a few kisses upon your mons before blowing cool air onto your cunt.

“I’ve missed your taste. I dreamt about it for so many nights." His thumbs trace slow circles into the skin near your pelvis as he continues teasing. He trails his tongue where your thigh meets the stark white stocking covering the majority of your leg.

"Fuck." He leans his face into your pussy once more, inhaling the rich scent before finally dipping his tongue into your wetness. He groans into your cunt.

Holding up the skirts of your gown the best you can in one hand, you snake the other into his shaggy locks, taking hold of his roots. Your chest heaves in anticipation.

“Please, please, Clive, don’t tease me," you whine, "it’s been too long.”

“Aw, did my sweet princess miss me?” He goads, sticking his tongue in your entrance and greedily sucking up your arousal on his wet muscle.

“Did her princess pussy miss how good I made her feel?” He kisses up the seam of your cunt until he reaches your clit.

"Did she miss how I made love to her with my mouth?” He spits on your pussy, the glob of saliva sticking to the hairs that cover your mound, some of it dripping to the ground.

He's quick to remove his gloves, tossing them aside before he takes his thumbs and spreads your folds apart, watching as your quivering hole twitches in anticipation.

“She must have missed me, with how much she’s leaking just for me."

All you're able to do is bite your lip and nod, feeling embarrassed as his words generate heat in both your cheeks and core.

He plugs your warm hole with his tongue, not wanting a single morsel of your essence to be wasted.

“It’s alright, princess; I’m right here.” He speaks directly into your cunt, looking at you with a deeply enamored gaze.

"I’ve missed her too, you know," he says, sliding his tongue all around your sopping pussy.

“I’ve missed her wetness, her sweetness, and her warmth. I missed how she clenched around me as I gave her pleasure," he groans.

Making his way to your clit, he gives it sweet kisses and drags the length of his tongue along the entirety of the bundle of nerves before pulling it into his mouth. His teeth graze the nub, causing your hips to jump forward, pressing more of yourself into his face.

Your fingers curl into his shaggy locks, struggling to keep your dress in your hold as you lose yourself in the feeling of pleasure, his pretty face proving to be useful for more than just gazing upon.

His teeth nip at your inner thigh, “getting greedy now, aren’t we princess?” He traces the divots of your thighs with his fingers, enjoying the feeling of your skin.

You don’t say anything, choosing to instead respond with an angry huff and pull his face back into your cunt by his hair.

“Point taken,” he smirks against you before pulling your clit back into his mouth again.

He moves his hand from your thigh and down to your pussy, sliding his middle finger back and forth between your folds, coating it in your slick. He slips to your entrance, circling the quivering hole and waiting, drawing out a whine from you.

“Please,” you exhale, your head rolling back against the wall, desperate to have him deep inside you. Though you’d much prefer squeezing down on his cock, that’d have to wait for another day.

He chuckles, the vibration from his voice moving through you, causing you to keel over slightly. Clive breeches your warm hole, slowly, letting you enjoy the feeling of his thick finger stretching you out.

“Fuck yes,” you whimper.

“That’s it, princess; you’re so wound up. Just take what you need," he coos, murmuring against you, his breath hot on your skin.

He curls his finger into you, the pad of his digit hitting the spongey spot along your walls.

“Looking for another audience? Was the poor maid not enough the first time?” He’s smirking against you now as he begins to pump his finger in and out of your cunt.

“What if your father were to catch you with me, hm? How do you think he’d react to his little girl stuffing her cunt in the face of someone he deigned worthy enough to protect her?"

Your breath is ragged, unable to form words due to the sound of his voice, deep and gravelly as he spews more filth at you.

“Keep moaning like that, and we’ll soon know the answer yet.”

He moves to your clit once more, slurping and sucking at your swollen pussy, desperate to push you over the edge. He fucks his finger into you at a rapid pace now, and his tongue is quick to catch whatever dribbles out onto his fingers, dining on your essence like it’s the finest ambrosia known to man, and to him, it might as well be.

Your head is lulled back against the wall as heat creeps onto your face and into your core. You don’t dare look down at Clive, who's nestling his face further in the hair that covers your cunt, knowing that you’ll surely come undone at the sight.

After the night you’ve had, you more than deserve this a thousand times over, and if it were up to him, he would happily oblige in all your desires.

The tips of your fingers cinch into his scalp, tugging him impossibly closer to your core, your orgasm building rapidly.

Clive pulls no punches, suctioning his lips around your clit and sucking it like a piece of hard candy. His index finger has joined the middle digit, fucking in and out of your cunt.

With practiced strokes, he contorts his fingers until your climax is upon you. Your lips part with a silent scream as your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

Your thighs shake as they try to close around his head, and his steady palms hold them apart as he removes his fingers from your pussy. Every drop of arousal that leaks from your womanhood is lapped up by his tongue til your hands are pushing his face away.

Clive gets the hint, removing your thigh from his shoulder and setting it back down on the floor. You attempt to move away from the wall, but he holds you in position until the jitter in your leg ceases.

He wipes the remnants of your spend from his face onto your inner thighs, and the roughness of his facial hair sends a shiver up your spine.

Once you've settled, he moves to help with fixing the skirts of your gown.

"Do you like it?" You smile brightly. "I wore it with you in mind."

You twirl slowly, your dress billowing slightly, wanting to show off all the detailing. His face warms at the gesture, and he presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I think lavender may be my new favorite color."

You allow yourself a moment to indulge in the blissful feeling before Clive speaks up once more.

"We should get moving. The break for supper will be happening soon, and we don't want any whispers of our whereabouts if we're not in attendance."

He moves to make a break for the storeroom door when you grab his forearm.

"Surely you're not going to go out there with your... predisposition," you flit your eyes down to the front of his trousers, where a prominent erection has made itself known.

"I'll take care of it myself, later."

"Let me help you..." There wasn't much time for you to return the favor with your mouth, and any other activities would leave you disheveled in a way that everyone would know of what happened between the two of you, but you could provide relief with your hand.

Despite the time restraint, you wanted to tease Clive a little, putting the tips of your silk gloves into your mouth and pulling them off of each hand slowly with your teeth before setting them aside nearby, so as to not be sullied with bodily fluids.

You wanted to get a good look at what you'd be working with, so you sink to your knees and pull his trousers down to his thighs. You give him a wide-eyed expression as the appendage bobs free, hitting his stomach gently.

His cock looked a lot different than those pictured in the medical texts that you've snuck from the royal library. He had extra skin and hair and garnered a much bigger girth as well.  

As tempted as you are to swallow the whole of him into your mouth, you settle for a simple kiss right on the tip, and his cock twitches back at you cutely in appreciation.

You rise to your feet once more with his aid and grasp him in your hand. His fingers are quick to cover your own, the size of them dwarfing yours.

"Are you positive that you want to go through with this? I truly don't mind taking care of myself," he asks.

"And not return the favor?" You chuckle. "I promise, I am doing this out of my own desire." You move to the column of his throat, placing soft and delicate kisses on the skin before moving toward the junction of his jaw.

"Now just relax," you coo, running your fingers delicately up and down his shaft.

He's so pent-up that it won't take long for him to climax, but you do your best to be as teasing as possible. His head lulls back as muffled sounds are delivered from his throat, and you can't help but admire how pretty he looks like this.

Not only does he have an impressive amount of girth, but his length is nothing to scoff at either, with a protruding vein running along the underside of him. The sheer size of him fills up your entire palm as you continue to pump slowly, the softness of your skin akin to silk upon his cock.

"So tell me, Clive, how many nights have you been fucking your fist to the thought of me?" You whisper in his ear, and his eyes shoot wide open as he takes in a gulp of air.

His hips buck lightly against you in response, giving you all the permission you need to continue your questioning.

"Come on, tell me. It can't be that bad." Your kisses continue on his neck as his hips continue to rock.

He takes in another gulp of air before answering.

"E-every night.”

"Every night? How cute," you tease, speeding up your movements on his cock. He bites his lip in an attempt to hide his noises while the rhythm of his hips meets your hand every time.

"I touch myself thinking of you too. Except my fingers are nowhere near as filling as yours," you chuckle to yourself as he groans out.

"Founder, above."

His cock is fully slick now, and at any moment, he looks like he's ready to burst, taking to wrapping his fist around yours and creating a vice-like grip with your fingers. All his movements are hurried and rushed as he chases his release.

For the final blow, you mutter to him, "Fuck my fist like you would fuck my pussy."

Clive full body shudders, tightening his grip once more before thrusting wildly. It's only a few short moments later that he's removing your hand from himself and laying his seed on the floor below, groaning your name in the process.

Afterward, the two of you take a few moments to collect yourselves and tidy your appearance. Old rags were used to wipe off the remnants of Clive from the floor, and you were just about to make your exit when the melody from one of your favorite songs played through the door.

"Clive, may I have this dance?" You extend your hand toward him, giggling to yourself.

From looking at your dance card earlier, this song was the second-to-last song to be played before the break for supper.

"And don't give me the excuse of not having enough time. We'll make it back to the ballroom before everyone's filed out for the evening."

"Even if that is true, my lady, I assure you that I know nothing of ballroom dancing."

"Did I ask you if you knew how?"

There's a momentary pause, one that he fills with a shake of his head. You nod in return.

"No, I did not. I simply asked you to dance with me. I'd still wish to so even if you had two left feet."

There's another pause as you extend your hand toward him again.

"I even saved you a spot on my dance card," you smile, shaking the parchment in front of his face, where the line for this dance is indeed left blank.

In his indecisiveness, you take his hand in your own and press yourselves close together.

"It's just you and me," you whisper, resting your head against his frame, the sound of the music filling the silence. His opposite hand moves to the small of your back, and the two of you end the evening in each other's arms, swaying to the sound of muffled music. 

[just-some-random-blogger]

Edge Of Ever After | 1

Part 2

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close. I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest. He traps me in his arms, "but you… you turn my shit into gold."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader POV shifts!, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink, breeding kink), enemies to lovers, remnants of forced marriage, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: so this is a the sequel to my Safe Keeping series. both that and this is originally posted on ao3. you dont have to read the previous series to understand what's going on, but naturally, it will make more sense if you do. I've decided not to tag everyone that asked me to tag them in safe keeping because this is another series after all. ❤❤❤ hope you like it!

Brown Wood rarely ever has its lights out, as it housed so many people. Rare were the times the place succumbed to darkness. Still, there were moments when all the servants, maids, men, and women were asleep and not candle was lit.

Lord Clegane purposefully returned to Brown Wood amidst this darkness. As he opened and closed the gate with as much care as he could, determined not to make a sound, he finds himself thinking of the first time he came here with his wife, her servant, and their dog. The darkness Brown Wood was succumbed to was not the same it was now. Where once there was fearful abandonment now had peaceful slumber.

If you told him this was the childhood home of his lady's family, he'd believe you; it was a large estate, abandoned as it was. And if you add it had been abandoned once because of a plague of woodland monsters that ended killing her family, well, he'd still believe you, because damned if he doesn't.

That's where he had come from, the cursed forest.

But the Brown Wood estate was no longer cursed, and it was all because of her, the sun of this side of Westeros, his beloved wife. It was because of her that this haunted place was now bustling with life, because of his bride... that he was so eagerly avoiding.

Sandor prayed to the gods that his wife's loyal mutts would not wake to the smell of him. He prayed as he reached for the door handle that they had not slept near the fireplace in the living area, but if they did, that they were too tired to wake.

He sucks a breath and enters his home.

Darkness. Silence. Nothing.

He releases the breath as he shut the door.

Pants. Patters. Chuffs.

"Fuck."

Sandor looks down and catches flashes of dark furred creatures circling around him. One, he recognized to be Rose because of her size, got on her back legs and rested her front paws on him. The other two began to get excited as he swatted their sister away. They thought it a challenge to start playing.

He recognizes Sage as he softly barks and immediately drops on his knees to shush the dog.

Sage and his sisters come upon him and begin to lick his body. He would have tolerated it, had he not been covered in black, tar-like muck left over on his skin and armor.

"Fuck off, pups," he whispers as he pushes them away and stands. Lilac, ever the big mouth, began to bark in protest. Her barks echoed across the whole place.

"SHHH!" he silences in a panic, "you're going to wake your mum!"

His ghost nearly leaves him when he hears, "she was never asleep to begin with."

Sandor turns and finally spots the woman that had been sitting in darkness all this time. "Bloody seven, girl," he gasps in shock, "what are you doing in the dark?"

He walks over, lighting a candle on the table, then looks at her. Her eyes were dark and tired. Her arms were crossed and jaw was clenched.

He watches her stand and look him once over.

He immediately says, "I'm not injured."

She rolls her eyes and looks away, "I can tell, Hound."

His face twitches as she walks past him. He follows after but winces when she hisses that he better not keep the candle open.

And so the Hound blows the flame out and the rest of the dogs follow their master across the place.

He wants to tell her he did good today. He really did! He saved the villagers from an attack, helped them with their cow problem too! And he counted and killed 20 monsters in the fucking woods. Twenty!

But that was the fucking problem, and he knew it. Hell, even the pups knew it.

He was spending so much time trying to eviscerate the tar fucks he was barely home anymore. But what was he to do? Not kill the them and have his wife go on an expedition to fucking Volantis looking for a witch Littlefinger told her to look for? Fuck no. He would rather feel her sheer disappointment for coming home late than to have her go to a foreign land looking for answers she doesn't even know for certain she's going to get.

Sandor soon realizes she's leading him off to the bathroom. She opens the door and lights candles for him.

"The water is surely cold now, but you'll have to make due," she says as she brings a flame to four waxen cylinders. After setting them down, she shoos the pups that followed them in and closes the door once they were out. She then walks over and helps him out of his sticky armor.

Sandor thinks she's like a fairy in this light, though she was clearly displeased with him and exhausted from waiting up.

"Forgive me for staying out late," he mutters, wanting nothing but to hold her arms as she removed his top. He wouldn't dare touch her in this state though, caked in muck.

She scoffs, "I'll forgive you when you stop doing it."

Once Sandor was out of his metal top, she looks up at him and sighs, "bathe quickly."

"Aye," he nods surely, "I will."

"I cannot sleep alone."

"Aye," he says weaker, "I know."

"Yet still you make me wait for you," she retorts tiredly.

"… I thought you'd be able to sleep with the pups."

"The pups aren't you, Sandor."

"I-"

She walks off to wash her hands. Sandor scrams to help her.

Once her hands are clean, she curtsies and exits the bathroom.

"I'll be quick," he says, because he can't say 'I didn't think it through.'

She simply hums in acknowledgment.

My eyes were heavy, head was hurting. My whole body was crying out for respite, yet I could not sleep. I hear the door. I slowly open my eyes.

I feel Sandor draw near, but he doesn't lie beside me. I barely make out his form but I hear him kneel by the bed. He takes my hand slowly into his.

"Come to bed," I mumble under my breath but even I can't hear it with how low it was.

I open my eyes enough to make out his face, at least as much as the darkness would allow me.

He speaks with the softest of voices "I don't want you to go to sleep upset with me."

I don't have it in me to continue a conversation. Instead I pull away from him and scoot back.

Sandor is perfectly still on his spot.

Once there was a good space between us, I beckon him over by patting and rubbing the bed.

Sandor climbs to my side and I immediately sprawl on top of him. The smell of his body was a comfort, the feel of his form and warmth nearly made me faint.

I could feel his tension. I rub his ribs and shush him, "go to sleep."

Sandor lifts his head to look at me. After, he lets himself relax and stare at the ceiling until sleep takes him.

When I wake up, I'm laid atop my husband. My head was rested by his left collar bone and my leg was thrown across his hips.

It takes me a few moments to realize he was rubbing my thigh. Upon looking at his hand, then his face, I confirm, he was already awake.

Sandor looks at me and frowns.

I frown back and raise my brows.

He brushes my hair away from my face, "you're mighty tired, girl."

I relax and realize what the frown was for. Normally, twas I that woke up earlier. He was concerned because that was not the case today. "I cannot sleep well without you."

"Aye," he sighs. He brings his hand to the curve of my bum, "apologies."

My breathing grows heavy as he pushes my dress up.

"I feel terrible," he mutters, "let me make it up to you." Sandor kneads at my hip and sequentially pulls me atop him.

I do not say a word, I simply let him rub his hands on my thighs. I rest my palms on his chest and watch him examine my body.

His hands find their way up my nightgown and into my smallclothes. He locks eyes with me as he tugs them down, testing to see if I'd give him permission.

I lick my lips and tilt my head. I grab his wrists. We stare at each other for a moment.

"I do not like this routine," I mutter.

Sandor's face betrays him. He looks panicked.

I huff and shake my head, "you taking me because you're guilty."

He clenches his jaw.

"I do suppose is better than… nothing… but…"

My heart leaps into my throat when Sandor calls my name. It was a rare occasion when he did, as he opted pet names; it did things to me. When I tense, he takes the opportunity to pull away and grasp my wrists.

"Tell me how to make it up to you," he whispers.

Sandor and I watch each other's stillness.

After a moment of waiting, I pull my hands away and lean into him again. I prop my hands on his chest and he allows me to do as I please. After some shimmying and hovering, I rid myself of my underwear.

He watches as I toss it off the bed and straddle snuggly on his hips. I grab his wrists and bring his hands underneath my clothes, a silent encouragement to touch me.

The Hound squeezes and claws. I suppress a sound when he bucks into me. I feel my belly swirl in excitement but I do not allow my mind to be fogged before I get to say what's long overdue.

"Stop hunting at night."

Sandor releases a deep breath as he shifts upward on the bed. He licks his lips, "you know I won't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm so close to purging those fucking monsters," he mutters as his hands roam up my body.

"H-" I whimper when he kneads my breasts. I huff, "h-how do you know that?"

"Because they're few and far between," he shifts upward again and sequentially pulls my dress off me. Before I can cover myself, his mouth covers me, or more accurately my right breast.

I lean into him and grip his shoulder.

He sucks on my flesh then licks my nipple. He grips my ribs and further sinks into my bosom. He brings his face into my cleavage and begins to suck. He was intent, I knew, on leaving marks.

I feel him begin to rock his hips and I audibly react to the feel of his pants against my bare flesh.

I bite my lower lip and grab at his shirt, attempting to pull it off him.

He groans and pulls me closer into him, unwilling to separate his mouth from my skin. He pushes my hair back and trails kisses up to my neck. He nips my skin before finally pulling away.

Now fully sat up, he looks at me darkly. He rubs the places he'd kissed, as if examining his work, then finally, takes his top off himself.

He stills when I fondle with his waistband. He rather unwillingly allows me to move and rid of his pants. Once it was past his bum, he pulls me back down like he was scared I'd run off.

I whimper when he does so. Sandor rids himself of his final piece of clothing.

"Dance on my cock, darling."

My breath hitches. My cheeks flush.

His hands sprawl across my thighs, covering them nearly wholly and urges me to move back and forth.

I gulp as I feel my body heat up as I maneuver my hips.

The groan that leaves his mouth is high praise to me.

I garble out a sound when his thumb rubs at my nub. He hisses when he feels the wetness there, "fuck, sweetheart. You drive a man mad."

He plays with me some more then pulls his hand away to spread the wetness across his fingers, "gods be fucking good, all this for me?"

My face burns with embarrassment. I bring my hand across my chest, "Sandor."

He perks with concern and immediately cages me in his arms. He peppers kisses down my neck, "no, my lady. I'm in awe of you."

I mewl when he digs his fingers into my hair and tugs at the roots.

"Such sweetness...." he whispers against my ear, "this for an ugly dog?"

"S-stop it," I quip and give him a shove.

He pulls back and looks down at me.

I hold his gaze and scowl, "don't speak like that."

"What? R'you saying you think me pretty?"

"I do," I retort.

He laughs and rubs my arms to warm me, as if I could be cold against him. He grabs my hips then ruts into me. I make a sound as I watch him take his hardened length and slowly sink into me. I gasp as I feel him press balls deep into me.

He shudders against my ear, "liar."

The Hound begins to thrust upward and the sounds I make are muffled by his mouth. He kisses me like he's starved, and perhaps he was.

He tightens his arms around me. He buries his face into my neck. He breathes in deeply. He sighs, "color me flattered though."

I squeak when he shoves me on my back and pushes my calves into my thighs. He grunts, "fuck ya good for it."

I screw my eyes shut and throw my head back as Sandor snaps into me. With every flick of his hips, the bed creaks and I move farther and farther down the bed. He has so push me down in place to keep me from slipping any farther. He pins me by my shoulder and brings my legs up in front of him.

My legs rest his shoulder. He kisses my ankle, "my darling wife."

The Hound persists in a rough and quick pace, hardly stopping, slowing only to tease me. He gnaws at whatever part of me his mouth can reach and grunts as he explores my body. He molds me against him, hands pawing at my flesh, touching, feeling, steadying.

I'm a toy, a chew toy of a hound, something he craves to stretch, gnaw, and tear but so is very selfish and protective of.

He rubs my belly and it pushes me on edge.

When I come, I'm exhausted; I always am.

When he comes, he's spent and hot and dripping; by extension, as am I.

Sandor curses as he gives his final thrusts. I'm shaking and raw beneath him. He eventually stops and looks down upon his destruction. He spreads the slick on my thighs. He wraps my legs around him like a belt.

"I love to see you like this," he mutters in between breaths.

I heave as I blink slowly. My eyes act like I didn't just wake up from my sleep; I feel exhausted.

"Want to see you heavy with child," he rubs my belly, "my child. Fuck. I want to see you full. Love to see you leaking but I can't have that."

I try to move my legs, he instantly prevents me, "a bit more, love."

"… my leg is cramping," I cover my face with my arm.

He presses my thighs back into my chest, "just a bit more."

Sandor was laid back in bed, tracing his wife's spine with his fingers. She was straddled around his waist, laid upon him like a blanket. He listened to the sound of her steady breathing and slowly, involuntary, they begin to breathe at the same pace.

He could not express the relief, the astonishment he felt the very first time she let him hold her. The fact was, his tongue itches to tell her, to thank her for allowing him to relish the softness of her body, the warmth of her skin, the gentleness of her, even when she did not have to, even when he was not she was not getting anything in return, not like when they had sex.

But he would not express this. For what good was thanks if he had nothing to show for?

Words are empty.

For his lady, he'd carve out every skull and lay them upon her feet. He was good at that. But words? Empty.

Sandor watches as his wife stirred and looked at him.

Her hair was wild, skin sticky, eyes heavy, lips swollen. If gods were real, she was one of them.

"I think we should get dressed, husband."

His stomach skips at the name. He hated that he was so affected by it when he knew that it was duty to her; all she could feel for him was borne out of duty.

He brushes her hair back and nods, "I will not keep you longer than you'd like."

He notices how she purses her lips. He notices how she smiles. A dutiful smile.

Sandor smiles back. He wishes she'd grin at him the way she did her pups but he was hardly anything to grin about.

He watches as she pushes herself up and stands. He watches as she grabs her shift from the floor and heads to the bathroom.

Sandor rolls on the bed, breathing in the scent of their fucking… their love making. He loved her.

How could he love her if he hurt her?

He sighs and fantasizes about his wife being with child. He wonders if she'd like him more or stop caring for him once that happens.

He shakes it out of his head before he makes himself sad.

Later that day, he's back to training the boys how not to get themselves killed with their own swords. They've learned to be punctual all on their own (Polly snitches on whoever was late for the day, though he's never really set a time when practice starts).

Sage liked watching practice. He never did anything besides walk around and sniff whatever he could put his nose to, but he was always there. In some way, Sandor was very touched by this.

He was very protective of the pup, and found himself watching the small creature more than the kids he's supposed to be teaching.

But of course, he doesn't give a fuck about anyone else when his wife comes out.

"Sandor."

Immediately, Sandor turns around and perks up at the sound of the voice. Unbeknownst to him, the rest of the people in the yard do as well.

Lucy walks next to her lady. She holds a basket in one hand while she brings the other around her lady's arm. He feels a bitterness in his mouth, a bitter envy over the comfort the two women had with each other. He knows he'll never have that with his wife, but it doesn't hurt him any less.

"Lucy and I will go out to the market."

He drops everything and steps forward, "I'll accompany you."

Sage sticks his tongue out as he runs towards his beloved master, as if he understood the conversation, as if saying he, too, would be coming.

Sandor takes one look at the pup and says, "you sure as fuck 're not invited, dog."

Lady Clegane hushes the dog and reiterates a puppy cannot join them, then she looks up at Lord Clegane, "you do not have to join us either."

Sandor doesn't argue, he simply looks at Lucy, who was giving him a greasy look, and heads off to the gates.

Sandor had absolutely no idea which part of the market they were headed, so when they got there, he constantly glanced over his shoulder until eventually, his wife stopped at a vegetable stand. He turns back and hovers by them.

"Do you think we should get pumpkins?" Lady Clegane asks while absentmindedly holding an onion.

Lucy tilts her head, "we could but I don't think I could carry it."

"I'll carry it," Sandor chirps.

The two turn to him. His wife smiles and Lucy grins like a fool.

They end up buying a pumpkin that was nearly the size of his head.

Sandor is unable to make out what the two women were talking about as they walked in front of him because of how many people waved good morning or greeted him far too jovially. At a point, the women had to stop as Sandor got held up by a crowd of people wanting to have small talk with him.

Like a star, his wife saves him with her shining smile, garnering all the attention of the people for herself and quickly dispelling it. He has no idea how she does it.

They move on after and then his wife spots a stand of strawberries. He vaguely hears her excitedly tell Lucy how much she loves strawberry pie. Lucy tells her she knows this in the same excited way.

Lady Clegane is allowed to sample a strawberry. The Hound catches himself smiling at the way his wife savored the fruit.

They buy a basket full of strawberries and, just as Lucy and her lady walk away, Sandor asks the vendor where he could strawberry seeds. He doesn't get a straight answer right away and by the time he does, the women have walked off quite far.

Thankfully, by the time they notice their Hound was missing, Sandor managed to come back with a pouch of strawberry seeds in his pocket. He doesn't say anything about it though.

When they get back to Brown Wood, he immediately asks the groundskeeper, Job, if he could help him plant strawberries.

One of the servant girls, Margaret, was helping me out today. I was attempting to bake strawberry pie, and after three failed attempts, it was shaping up to be a futile task.

Margaret, face flushed and temples moistened with sweat, placed the fourth pie she fetched from the oven onto the kitchen counter. I frown as she wipes her forehead on her sleeve but play it off when she turns to me with a grin. Margaret says, "it smells so good, milady."

I give her back a smile, "I am glad to hear it."

She watches as I grab the knife and lean onto the counter. She says, "I'm very, very, very sure that we managed to make the pie just the way you like it."

I chuckle at the girl and place a hand on her shoulder, "I would hope so. I feel terrible for taking you from your chores, Margaret."

She perks and immediately shakes her head and hands, "don't be, milady! We all of us love helping you out," she brushes her hair away from her face, "even if we have to make twenty more pies to suit your taste, I would not complain."

I laugh softly as I take a towel and hold the hot pie tin in place. I take a slice of the dessert, though it was still scalding, and transfer it to my plate. I then move it towards the 3 other pies on the counter.

The truth is, there was nothing wrong with the pies. I had Margaret help me with making them precisely because she knew how to and I didn't. It's just that they didn't taste like the ones in my childhood, and I could not take it.

There was a pit in my stomach because of my lacking attempts. It was not of hunger, make no mistake, it was of longing.

I take a forkful of pie from my plate and take my time blowing some air on to the jammy thing before taking it into my mouth.

Margaret watches me with anticipation as I chew.

I look at her hopeful eyes, wanting nothing but to tell her we finally did it, but I supply her the truth, "it still tastes different."

Margaret deflates. I place the fork down on my plate as I lick my lips.

"Although the lemon and the cream did help a lot," I offer as consolation.

The girl perks and claps her hands, "then we're on the right path!"

I clear my throat and smile.

"Perhaps we can try adding other fruits into it. Or maybe you can try to recall some more details about the pie? Like a smell? Vanilla is hard to miss."

"Mmm, I don't think they added vanilla." I push the plate towards Margaret, "have a try, but be careful. It's still piping hot."

She grins at me, "thank you, milady!" then grins at the pie, taking her own fork.

I laugh at her, feeling a giddy sensation as I watch her lean forward as she takes a slice.

Margaret was the youngest out of the servant girls. She was 10 and 5 but looked quite mature for her age because of her height and fuller figure. Her demeanor was fully that of a darling girl though. Her parents used to be bakers. She told me she does not remember where their bodies were buried, so she occasionally offers prayers for them at an oak tree she used to swing on.

I imagine what it would be like for me to have my own child here in this moment. Would they also like strawberry pie? Would they care to help make it? Would they smile at me like Margaret?

I look up and see the Hound marching over. He looked a bit winded, and I figure he came from training. My belly tingles as we make eye contact.

Margaret finally takes a bite and she quite literally jumps up. She covers he mouth as she speaks, "THIS IS DELICIOUS!"

I giggle, "is it really?"

"By the gods, milady. You mean to tell me what you used to eat was better than this?"

I chuckle and watch as Sandor walks over. He heads for the cupboard where he immediately snatches a bottle of wine. He uncorks it with a pop and chugs it.

"Ehm, in a word it is," I reply to Margaret, "all I know is that it tastes different. I can't quite figure what however."

Sandor lets out a satisfied breath as he pulls the bottle away from his lips. He walks towards me, and it seems as though Margaret noticed him only now, judging by the way she jolted back and quickly greeted him.

The Hound ignores her though as he scrutinizes the countertop. He turns to me, "been baking all day, have you, little girl?"

I part my lips and battle with myself on a response. On one hand, I want to nag about how I was suddenly little girl again, but then again I quite enjoyed how his lips subtly curved upward as he spoke it.

Margaret steps back as Sandor takes up all the space by my side.

Although it was not glaringly obvious, there was a look of amusement in my husband's eyes. He sets the wine next to the pie slice and leans on the counter to get eye level with me, "you gonna give me a taste?"

I watch as he licks his lips and catch the way the wine stained them.

And so, to ward off my inner turmoil, I nag him about that instead, "alright. A slice in return for this," I snag the wine bottle, shocked by how he managed to drink it half empty already, though I really shouldn't. "You've had enough wine for today, Hound."

Sandor straightens up, dumbfounded by the turn of events. He shifts on his spot to watch me hand over the wine to Margaret, "get me a pitcher of water, my dear."

"Fuck water," Sandor scoffs.

Margaret looks between me and Sandor, heavily unsure and anxious of what to do next.

"Give me the bottle, wench," the Hound barks.

Margaret gulps and I take a step between them.

"Stop it," I scowl at him.

"But-"

"You won't enjoy the flavor of the pie if you ruin your tongue with wine." I look over and dismiss Margaret. She quickly curtsies and runs off.

"Hey- GIVE IT BA-"

"Stop it!" I grab his shoulders, "quit scaring the girl!"

The Hound walks back as I push him, "she took my wine!"

"You can have wine at supper," I quip, "if you're going to have pie, just have pie."

Sandor huffs as I release him. I then take my fork and slice a chunk for him. I bring the fork to my lips and take a moment to blow on the pie. Once it's cool enough, I bring my fork towards Sandor, my other hand underneath it to catch any falling crumbs. I get on my tiptoes to have a better hold on the fork.

He pulls his head back at first, but two seconds later, he leans in and takes a bite.

I relax on the pads of my feet and put the fork down.

He chews as he looks down on me.

I stare up at him with expectation.

He licks his lips and nods, "it's good."

I wait for him to say anything more but he doesn't. I press my lips into a line, "that's nice to hear."

He looks at me for a moment, hums, and tilts his head, "what do I owe you, then?"

"What?"

"What do I owe you?"

I raise my brows.

"Want me to feed you next?" he raises a brow.

I furrow my brows, "no…? You don't owe me anything."

He hums and shakes his head, "how about a kiss?"

"What?"

Sandor smiles lopsidedly. He bends and places his hands on my waist, yanking me into him. My body blazes with crackling flames as I'm pressed against him.

Before he can lean in, I push him by his chest with both hands. I immediately turn my face away and quip with my eyes shut, "you don't have to kiss me!"

I hold my breath. Sandor watches. Slowly, whatever expression he held slips off and gets tugged down along with the corners of his lips.

He releases me and I catch my breath. Sandor feels like his hands and arms were foreign appendages that had no business being on him. He awkwardly clenches and unclenches his fists.

I turn back to him with knit brows. He looks at me with a hard expression.

"You don't owe me things, Sandor."

His expression tightens.

I huff and place a hand on his chest, "I don't do things so… you have to repay me…"

A deep line forms between his brows.

I shake my head, shrug and smile softly, "I do them because I want to… you should only do the same."

He sighs through his nostrils and takes the hand I had on his chest. He brings it into his large ones and looks at them.

He opens his mouth and speaks so softly, under his breath, "you have such a strong sense of duty."

I blink at his words, thinking they somehow feel out of context. I figure it was true anyway, so I agree, "a sense of duty keeps me together."

Sandor turns back to me, "just as your duty being my wife."

I raise my brows.

He kisses the back of my hand before setting it down. He nods at me as he mutters, "I want what you want… If you don't want me to kiss you, then I won't."

My eyes widen, "I- I didn't say that."

He chuckles dryly, "you pulled away so fervently."

"Because you asked me what you owed!" I exclaimed, "you don't owe me."

He laughs a bit louder, "everything's got a price."

For a moment we stare at each other.

"Then how much do I owe you?"

He seems to thinks for a moment. He offers no response.

I suck in a breath, "if you want to kiss me, kiss me. Kiss me because you want to, not because… you owe me." I feel pathetic as I add, "I do not wish to buy your affection."

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

I feel my mouth go dry. It's as though my voice is taken from me and I barely manage to croak out a, "yes."

It takes too long. The Hound does not believe it. He shakes his head and says with no conviction, "very well."

[xoxo-sarah]

I Wanna Be Yours || Part 11

Part 10 | part 12

↝a/n: I feel out of love with this series after chapter 4, if you can't already tell by the effort I put into the chapters after. I refuse to just scrap it through. Also ⚠️ I need help on picking a song for this fic. I have been listening to different songs from the 80's to see which one should be reader's favorite, but then I had the idea that I could just use the song that this story was based off of (since the series kinda went off the tracks with the original plan). I Wanna Be Yours by Artic Monkey's is a good song and I could make it work. Obviously it wasn't released in the 80's but this is fiction anyway, so it doesn't really matter. Should I continue looking for better songs or use I Wanna Be Yours?⚠️ Your opinion would be highly appreciated 🩷

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!Wheeler!reader

↝Warning: not proofread, possible spoilers, cannon events, nosebleed, flashback of flashback from chapter 3, pining, cursing, not proofread

↝⎙ 7.30.24

“Couldn’t we have tried a road, or something just slightly less creepy?” Robin and Nancy were walking ahead of you, treading through the dead forest of the Upside Down. Steve and Eddie were a little behind you, deep in conversation.

“I think we’re getting close. We’re out of here. Don’t worry.” Robin nodded at Nancy’s reply, before falling in step with you, leaving Nancy to lead the way.

You weren’t sure why she fell in step with you. You hadn’t said a word since the mini earthquake. “Feel any better?”

You cleared your throat, “Yeah, I guess.”

“I would say you need to eat something, but I highly doubt the food in the pantry would taste any good.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile, appreciating her trying to lighten the mood.

You decided to play along, “I don’t know, there might be some saltines.”

Before Robin could reply, the ground shook again. You feel the opposite way of each other, where you had landed harshly against a tree. You felt the pain shoot through your shoulder, through your arm to your fingertips.

“Okay, second on my list of least favorite things: earthquakes. Seriously, I’m unsteady enough as it is.” Robin seethed, looking up in time to watch Nancy run off. “Nancy! Where are you going?”

Looking up, you mentally cursed your sister and the thoughts her brain came up with. As soon as the ground stopped shaking, you all ran after Nancy, yelling out for her.

You ran until you found her, overlooking your neighborhood. “Come on.” She walked forward, toward your house.

It was weird, seeing your house standing. The water of Lover’s lake was dried up, trees dead, but your house stood, surrounded by the dried out version of the trees you, Nancy, and Mike would play in as kids.

Nancy took a deep breath before opening the front door.

“Ew,” You stepped over the vines littering every inch of the house.

“Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.” Robin stepped beside you, watching her next step.

“Come on, I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to.” You followed Nacy up the stairs, falling back as they made their way to her room.

Steve turned back half way up the stairs, looking into the living room, but you paid him no mind.

Your door to your room creaked open. You set your eyes upon your room. The same tacky paint laid on the walls, pure nostalgia. It was from your childhood, which you covered up when you hit sophomore year. The memory of you and Chrissy played in your mind.

She spent so much of your friendship trying to get you to open up- to be yourself. ANd you couldn't even get her to open up about what was bothering her. You could’ve asked.

“The way he looked at you!” Chrissy continued to gush, kicking her feet in a 'schoolgirl' way. She stared up at you with her head in her hands, laying on her stomach. Homework was long forgotten.

“He looks at everyone like that.” Rolling your eyes, you turned back to your dresser, looking in the top drawer for a certain shirt you were meant to have worn the day before. You were pretty sure Nancy had stolen it at this point. Wouldn't have been the first shirt that had just wound up missing just for you to see either in Nancy's clothes basket or on her. “I saw him look at Mrs. O'Relle and I thought he was going to combust. He's just a naturally flirty guy. I don't even think he realizes it most of the time."

“Oh, okay. Yeah.” With her tone and the smile on her face, it was obvious she didn't believe a word you said.

After closing the drawer harder than you meant to, you turned, glaring at the girl. “Anyway… I don't like him.”

You regretted the way you said 'him' as soon as it rolled off your tongue. But you tried to play it off cool. However, she didn't.

“So there's another guy!” You were quick to shush her, with it being night and Holly had already been put to bed and the fact you did not want your parents or siblings knowing anything about your love life. “Sorry.” She moved to sit up, watching as you sat on the edge of the mattress. “So…?”

“So what?”

“What's so special about this guy?” She said it as if you were stupid for asking.

“Nothing. Well, not like-” Closing your mouth, you couldn't find the words. Your eyes danced around your room, taking in the tacky paint from your childhood that you have yet to cover up. “He's different.” No matter how much she tried for you to meet her eye, yours stayed glued to the wall In front of you.

After a few moments of silence, you glanced over, her face telling you to continue. Her smile was so sweet, happy for you.

“He's nice.” She. She's nice. But Chrissy didn't need to know that. This is the first time you've told her about anyone you have ever fancied in the 5 years you two have been the best of friends. She was over the moon. “He's smart. He looks good in blue or green.” Chrissy noticed the way your lip twitched into a small smile at the thought of this mystery 'man'.

“What does he look like?”

“Light-brown hair, blue eyes.” You began fiddling with your nightshirt. “Tall. Taller than me, at least. Uh,” You glanced back over, not wanting to be telling her this anymore. Sure, you've wanted to tell someone how you felt, how a girl you barely talk to could make you feel all kinds of giddy without meaning to. But this was too much. “Actually, I don't want to talk about this anymore. If you don't mind.”

Before she could reply, you clicked your lamp off, leaving you to get under the blankets in the dark.

Robin's nice. She's smart. She looks good in blue or green. She had light-brown hair and pretty blue eyes. She is taller than you. She is beautiful. She is someone you couldn't even admit to liking to your closest friend.

You know Chrissy would never judge you or make you feel less than, but it was just different. It always would be. Sadly.

“He sounds nice, like someone you should admit your feelings to.” Chrissy spoke up after a moment of silence, of which you had stared above you, darkness blocking the color of the ceiling. You nearly scoffed at her words. But you settled on humming in agreement, or maybe just to satisfy her.

…

Chrissy was never one to judge.

The worst things always happen to the best people.

“Y/n?” You heard Nancy yell, frustration clear in her tone. Scrolling out of your room, you leaned against the doorframe, the pain in your shoulder slightly subsiding. “‘83, the year Will went missing.” Nancy stared at you, “We’re stuck in the past.”

“I’ve noticed.” you deadpanned, growing frustrated at the whole thing. “I don’t know why you're looking at me like that. It’s not like I have access to Vecna’s brain and know everything about this stupid place and stupid vines, and this stupid shit flying around in the air.”

You frantically waved around you, the bits flying around you, like a fly that keeps annoying you, getting on your last nerve- “Wheeler, hey, chill out, yeah?” Eddie stepped forward, bringing his hand to your shoulder. You instinctually recoiled, not wanting him to touch it and make it begin to hurt again. You put your arms back down at your sides, looking up at them. Their looks of confusion turned to concern. You felt your nose running. Blood coated your fingertips when you went to rub at where something wet was leaking onto your top lip.

“Dustin? Dustin!” Steve yelled from somewhere else in the house. You waved them off when they hesitated to leave as you tried cleaning up your nose. You grabbed the nearest dark clothing in Nancy’s room before going after them. “Dustin! Can you hear me, Dustin?” Steve frantically circled the kitchen and dining area. “Dus-Hello? Hel-Hello?!”

“Maybe he really does have rabies.”

Nancy ignored Robin, watching with concern, “Steve, what are you doing?”

Steve swung around, shining the flashlight into everyone’s eyes. “He’s here; Henderson. That little shit, he’s here. He’s like…He’s in the walls or something. Just listen.” He put his hand up, motioning for you to be quiet and listen. “Dustin. Dustin! Dustin, can you hear me?”

You could faintly hear Dustin’s voice, leading to everyone yelling out for him. STeve took a break, “Alright, either this kid can't hear us or he’s being a total douchebag.”

“Will found a way.”

“What?” Steve turned to Nancy.

“Will,” Nancy realized, staring up at Steve, “He found a way to speak to Joyce through the lights.” “Lights?” He trailed behind, watching as she tried to flick the lightswitch.

“You okay?” Eddie shoulder cheeked the one that wasn’t hurting, making sure to be gentle. You sniffed, “Yeah, it stopped bleeding.”

He pursed his lips, “ ‘m not talking about your nose. You about had a meltdown up there.”

“Sorry,” Your voice was only a whisper.

“No need to apologize. Shit is about to make me breakdown, too.”

“It’s all so much. There might not even be anything we can do.”

Eddie watched as you ranted. He knew you weren’t the talking type, much less the venting type. But he knew you hadn’t had time to properly grieve. He knew you wouldn’t give yourself time to do so until they figured out more about Vecna. You would burst at any moment, and they would only be able to watch as you did.

Robin watched your face, slowly watching as you crumbled more and more throughout this week. You didn’t deserve Vecna’s curse, she knew that for sure.

Steve spoke, “Guys, you seeing this?” You turned toward him, following where he pointed his flashlight at the light fixture hanging from the ceiling. The bulbs glowed, flickering a little. Particles swirled around like dust in the air. The bulbs sparked as you stepped closer. Nancy raised her hand, moving it to the sparkling particles. It was so much prettier when it was glowing and not in your face.

“Woah,” Eddie stared in awe.

You could still hear Dustin’s voice.

Steve raised his hand, doing the same as Nancy had. Soon, you all had your hand up, gawking.

“It…tickles.” Steve drew his eyebrows together.”

“It kinda feels good.”

Eddie smiled at Robin in agreement.

Nancy jerked her hand back, “Does anyone know morse code?”

“No,” you all shook your heads.

“Wait, does S.O.S count?” Nancy looked at Eddie, “Is that…is that good?”

By now, the only people who haven’t taken their hands away were you and Robin. Your hand tingled as you looked over at her, a slight smile on your lips. Although the rest of the upside down was dark and gloomy and gross, the lights lit up her face a little. It showcased her cheekbones, the tip of her nose, and her chin. Her eyes left her hand, catching your eyes. Even though the light didn’t illuminate her eyes, you could make out the specks of blue and green. Your eyelids half-blinked, too scared that if you fully closed your eyes, even for a second, that Robin would disappear or look away.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Eddie stepped forwards after talking to Steve and Nancy, explaining the plan. You had pulled your hand back as soon as he stepped closer, as if you had gotten caught. Robin had a hard time watching as you did so. Were you too scared to simply be seen holding eye-contact with her? She could hide her disappointment easily, she thought, atleast.

You had gotten through to Dustin on the other side. Now, you all kneeled on the side of Nancy’s bed. The kids had the idea to get Holly’s Lite-Brite, and communicate with that, as they kneeled in the same place in the other dimension.

“Okay,” Dustin yelled to be heard, “You guys seeing this?” Nancy raised her hand, the same light radiating in the particles.

Dustin’s cackle could be heard, before he said that they were unplugging it. As everyone stared in awe, you caught something- someone- in your peripheral. Robin smiled at the image in front of her. All frustration dissipated in your body. Your shoulders relaxed. Even if you were on the edge about Vecna and his cures, as long as Robin kept smiling, it would be okay. Maybe that was a delusional way of thinking but it made it all easier. Or maybe spending your last moments staring into her eyes makes it less scary. Your last moments don't matter- not when Max is in the same boat as you Blinking back to reality, you heard Dustin yelling, “We think Watergate isn’t the only gate. That there’s a gate at every murder site.”

“Does anybody understand what he’s talking about?” Nancy questioned, watching as everyone shook their heads. She wrote a question mark in the dust, waiting for an answer.

“Seriously?! How many times do I have to be right on the money before you trust me?” Dustin’s frustration was clear as day. Steve sighed, “Jesus Christ, this kid’s gotta get his ego in check.”

“It’s his tone, right?” Eddie leaned over, agreeing with Steve.

“I know.”

Nancy ignored the boys, like she has been doing this whole time. “So, how far is your trailer?”

You felt your blood run cold. No way you had to go to the place Vecna had sucked the life out of your best friend.

“Seven miles.”

The rest of the conversation went over your head, your only thought being Chrissy. Unknowingly to you, someone was watching you, sympathy in their pretty eyes.

It was so easy for everyone to forget that you were going through something. Even if they noticed how odd, quiet, and distance you became, they didn;t make it a priority to ask. Robin noticed- the headaches, nose bleeds, the distant look in your eyes- she noticed it all. There was a checklist in her head of your symptoms and she didn’t like how it was looking. You flinched when you felt something graze your knuckles. Looking down, you noticed Robin's hand beside yours, palm open for comfort. Your eyes shot up to hers, to find that she was looking away, acting like she wasn’t trying to silently comfort you. Robin had to fight back a grin as she felt your hand slip into yours.

Your eyes were trained on the gate in Eddie’s trailer's roof. It’s like you were in a trance. The pulsing red pulling you in, but at the same time, keeping you glued to your spot. “This is where Chrissy died. Like, right right where she died.” Eddie broke the silence, grimacing at the memory.

“Jessica?!” Chrissy stopped painting her toenails, fixing her back and gawking up at you. “The one everyone thought the Steve Harrington boy was going to end up with?” Your lips formed a thin line. You and Jessica had talked about the rumors. The two of them hadn’t even interacted much, only interacting as much as you had to with the other people in your grade. Jessica thought the rumors were funny, you not so much.

“Yeah, safe to say she’s not his type.”

Chrisst bit her cheek in amusement. “So,” She went back to hunching over her knees, beginning to paint her nails once again. “Are you together now or…?”

Your movements stopped, frozen in thought until you closed the nail polish bottle in your hand. “I don’t know, i mean” Sure, you liked her, but it was all fun in games. It was just complicated. Jessica was pretty, nice, witty, but it always felt like something was missing. Her touch was nice, her green eyes were pretty, her pink lips felt soft, but it wasn't what you pictured when you fell asleep. Her lips weren’t what you yearned for. “What we have is fun, but…” Your voice trailed off. Chrissy gave you a sympathetic look, finishing your thought for you, “She’s not Robin.”

•© 2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

• My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

🫧 Taglistׂׂ ૢ ~ @overtrred28 @ihatepeanutss @jovana1234578 @dobbycarl @kyleeservopoulos @marirxse @ch-3-rry

[arctic-shard]

Have a pile of Alagadda headcanons:

Being interested in bugs, all the references to the citizens of Alagadda being chitinous, and SCP-6624 giving the Yellow Lord a centipede theme, I tend to lean in on the whole insect thing. Alagaddans aren't insects, mind, I just take various inspirations from insects.

There's a fairly strict caste system but it's like insect castes - an Alagaddan is made for a role and plays it. The colour of the Alagaddan has no bearing on caste, role, or job.

The Hanged King

Not a victim, or if it is, it did it to itself For Unknowable Eldritch Reasons.

The Humours love their weird King, despite it being a silent cosmic horror.

Has A Plan called the Grand Play but nobody knows what it is. Ambassador thinks it knows but it's being played like everyone else.

The Ambassador

Not a native Alagaddan. The King found it or called it in from somewhere else.

Considers itself in charge. King don't care.

Basically serves as the eyes and hands of the King, going places and making deals and killing people. King's busy being eldritch.

If a tourist is causing trouble or snooping around, it's probably the Ambassador who's going to deal with them.

You can run but you can't hide.

The Humours / Lords

The first Alagaddans. Maybe the King's humours made into people? Many stories about their origins, possibly all true.

Primary duty is providing emotion for the King, either through advice or sharing experiences telepathically.

Other duties are performing rituals, making bodies for citizens, overseeing parties, and keeping order.

Mostly they just mess around doing whatever.

Can change shape by ripping off their mask and creating a new body.

Believe that the Ambassador should rank below them.

Pets

Probably have a better name but I'll figure it out some other time.

Created by a Humour for a specific task, like the Maestro of Rancour (SCP-6624-2) or the Magistrate of Duty (OC).

Courtiers

Live in the palaces and tend directly to the Humours.

Duties generally involve running errands, carrying stuff around, passing messages to other Humours, acting in a lady's maid capacity, and being on-call when a Humour is horny.

They wander around the palaces so while, for example, you'll find mostly red-clad courtiers in the Red Lord's palace, there will be other colours hanging around as well.

Servants

Anyone with a Real Job, working under a supervisor or not.

Someone has to make the wine and snacks and clothes and musical instruments and clean up after everyone else and sell things to tourists.

The servants in the King's Palace are mind-shattered husks, having spent too much time around the King.

'Musician' and 'entertainer' and 'artist' the like aren't jobs in Alagadda any more than breathing is a job on Earth. All Alagaddans sing and dance and entertain, it's as much a part of them as their masks.

Revellers

Your basic Alagaddan.

They're the ones partying in the streets, roaming around and pulling whoever they encounter into the Carnival.

They're the audience for any official plays or concerts or whatnot.

They seem to have the least going on in their heads. They are the Crowd, the Ensemble, the And Company.

Peasants

Pretty sure they're mostly revellers who either think too much or got tired of 24/7 partying and want to do their own thing but don't want to actually leave Alagadda so they go live in the outskirts.

Or maybe people who had their role stripped from them.

The lords leave them alone to Serve As An Example.

They do not go to the palaces.

Soldiers

They're off trying to cause incursions into other realities. They wait on the far side of SCP-5501, they fight at SCP-6034, but there's not many in the city itself.

If someone's causing trouble in Alagadda, they'll probably just get dismembered by whoever's closest.

[uponawhitehorse13]

So I replayed the original Tsukihime… I just wanna say that Nasu really like making waifu suffer tragic fate…

Anyway…

I wanna ask Reader helping Kohaku with her trauma, she may look cheerful but she must have some trauma from her past.

Helping Kohaku heal

This request comes from @cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme's inbox

Author's note: This was very fun to write and I'm very happy with how it turned out.

HUGE SPOILERS AHEAD

-You were probably running an errand when you met Kohaku. While you were at the same market you started chatting. This would repeat several times until you decided to invite her for a drink in a local cafe. Then another. Then to the movies. It wasn’t long until you had really connected with this cheerful maid. After a while she decided to invite you over to the mansion where she lives/works to meet her sister and the people she served.

-When the day came on the way over you were stopped by Ciel. She told you about the Tohno demon blood and how you shouldn’t involve yourself with that family but you persisted. The time at the mansion was surprisingly  pleasant. Most of it was spent drinking tea with Akiha and the maids. Shiki was out doing something so you’d have to meet him another time. After some time Akiha sent the maids away and confronted you. She knew Ciel told you about her family. She explained the situation with her family and explained the things her father and SHIKI did to Kohaku. But she also implored you to stay with her. She noticed that Kohaku was better since she started dating you. She also offered to allow Kohaku more free time so she may spend it with you and even a room for you to sleep in the mansion. You felt really horrible about the things you heard but decided to proceed with the relationship.

-When you were about to leave you were pulled aside by Kohaku. She overheard your conversation with Akiha and said she understood if you didn’t want to continue. While it was nice while it lasted she understands that you’d want a normal relationship instead of being with someone “broken” like her. It was at that point you were truly determined to stay with her and  help her. You told her that you’re horrified by what she’s been through but you are determined to stay with her and help her.

-Progress was slow but steady. You started coming over to the mansion more often and you slept over on the weekends and whenever you had spare time. You’d spend time helping Kohaku around the kitchen or watching TV and playing games in the evening. Since starting to become more open about her emotions she’d become prone to nightmares. While you two were cuddling asleep she would suddenly wake up and push you off her. When she realised what she did she’d quickly grab you again and start crying. You’d comfort her until she fell asleep again.

-The culmination of all the progress you made came when you were helping her in the kitchen as usual when your thoughts got interrupted by a yelp. Kohaku cut herself and was sucking on her finger to stop the blood while you went to get a bandaid. She seemed really focused on it until she realised you had a huge grin on your face. She started to get angry but then realised what you were smiling about. She was finally fully feeling things again. She joyously jumped in your arms to give you the strongest hug she had ever given you. You were getting blood on your shirt but you didn’t really care.

-After that not much seemed to change on the surface. Kohaku was going around being her usual cheerful self. But you knew what changed. It was no longer an act. The most surprising part of the whole ordeal was when you were alone with Hisui and she suddenly hugged you. She thanked you for helping her sister but also gave you the scariest look in the universe when she told you not to betray her. There was also the time Shiki talked to you. He told you about the promise he made to Kohaku as a child and gave you the ribbon. He’s sorry he failed her but glad she has you now. It was nice of him to do and it did give you an idea.

-Kohaku was waiting under the tree in the garden. Hisui told her that you asked her to wait for you there when you came over today. When you came you started telling her how sorry you are you weren’t there in the past to help her through all the things she’s been through but that you can promise that you’ll be there for her now and until the end of time. Kohaku was completely silent during your whole speech but when you presented her with the ribbon the silence was interrupted by sniffling until she leapt at you for a kiss. She was sobbing and thanking you for everything, it was a messy but incredibly sweet moment. When you were done she went to put on the ribbon but felt something wrapped inside slip out. She managed to catch it pretty easily. It wasn’t anything big, just a small ring. A ring…

[devondespresso]

Wiggy Wednesday🧠🪱 - A Robin (Buckley) Hood au

tagged by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @shares-a-vest and @hotluncheddie Thanks guys!!! 💕🫂💝

continue-the-game tags at the bottom, you guys absolutely don't have to read this whole thing for it, it won't hurt my feelings cause this thing got long sgnxgnxnh

💚>> EDIT: @carolperkinsexgirlfriend expanded on the aro robin thing and its literal perfection!! <<💚

tbh the past few days ive felt like i was loosing my spark a bit (could be a medication thing now that i think about it) so the plans for today are to rewatch some really damn good motion pictures, feel some emotions probably, and go from there.

having said that, i was able to put together a fun little idea about Robin Stranger Things as Robin Hood, Steve and Little John, either Vickie or Chrissy as Maid Marian. Chrissy would fit the secretly badass princess type very well, thinking princess peach in the mario movie, while vickie would be slightyyy more tough girl princess, thinking fiona from the first shrek. I'm not like a huge fan of slapping character names into roles just because, so i think most antagonists would be of the robin-hood-world and some might get left out. Dustin and Erica would be there, possibly as merry men, or i also think itd be cool to mix another vaguely-medieval story that fits the kids group better, have it be something in the backstory or future or something like a story living in the edges of this one. Eddies also an easy fit as the minstrel and could be tied to chrissy's story too if you want

im not planning on writing anything for it, but the story ideas that are jumping out to me rn are mostly characters meeting/origin stories. Steve and Robin meet early on in her outcastery, Robin in jail for stealing and Steve also locked up close by either for something outrageously stupid or something definitely illegal but for the sake of his little brother and friends. They swap stories and then swap even more jokes and fun banter. Either Robin loops him in on her plan to break out, or Dustin and Erica come to break Steve out during her escape and they all team up. Maybe a little part where they visit Dustin and friends, let him know Steve's fine even tho him and Robin are fugitives, maybe Dustin tries to follow them but they have to send him back until he's old enough to move out, an emotional "we're not gone forever" talk, concluding with Robin and Steve heading off to camp in the woods and figure out what's next. maybe robin comes out here, maybe steve had confessed and whatnot similar to the show, maybe robin just needed to establish that she's not into him before they started adventuring just the two of them. Maybe she mentions her future plans, to stay firmly on the laws bad side, maybe to reunite with the lady she found at the edge of palace gardens, something that would make the road alongside her rougher than his already will be, and Steve chooses to join her anyway.

also a romantic subplot with Chrissy or Vickie.

if its chrissy, i think itd go similarly to the disney movie (relative to vickie's anyway), chrissy has her princessy life and through circumstance (maybe an archery contest, maybe they run into each other, probably a combination of run-ins) they meet and are into each other, maybe Robin crossdresses and after she's revealed to be a girl Chrissy's head over heels, maybe Chrissy runs away, maybe robin wins her favor, lots of fun princess tropes to play with.

with vickie, i keep leaning into the Fiona-style angle where she very much doesn't care to be in a royal setting, not rejecting femininity just spinning the princess archetype on its head. So maybe she's a runaway, maybe she rescued herself, or maybe she faked her death or something extreme, and she runs into robin (maybe robins disguised and she looks extra rougish, maybe vickie had only heard bad stories about her) and they fight. if vickie wins she notices in her victory robins actual personality, realizes shes not aggressive like expected and they talk, and if robin wins she does a mercy thing, maybe disarms her to get enough time to run off and vickies like 🤨mysterious🤨 or they spark up conversation. Maybe part of Robins group comes in either ready to defend her or diffuse the situation and their appearance soon splits the fight. lots and lots to play with. one way or another vickie tags along or joins the group, she and robin fall in love, yippee

aaaand third option: polyarmory, where chrissy joins the group first, they run into vickie second, and the three of them fall in love.

fourth option: aro robin (lol get it. cause. arrows.) who picks up princesses (plus steve too) like its her job and those princesses fall in love

r*nance (* for search because this isn't exactly abt them, NOT to be a dick about it) could work too ig but its not my jam so im not diving into that angle

i also love the idea of expanding robins relationship with any of the kids (Dustin and especially Erica, because scoops troop has solid character dynamic potential thats barely touched. Robin and Max too, and it'd make sense to bring in Lucas too with his ties to both Erica and Max)

if this gives anyone else brainworms and you want to write it, absolutely go for it, i know im definitely not going to sit down and write scenes or anything for it, and if you're comfortable tag me so i can read it!!

_

for Wiggy Wednesday im tagging (no pressure ofc): @starry-eyed-steve @marvel-ous-m @lightoftheseraph @pearynice @puppy-steve

@tinytalkingtina @dreamwatch @flowercrowngods @withacapitalp @writing-kiki

@queenie-ofthe-void @carolperkinsexgirlfriend @eriquin @hairstevington @sunflowerharrington

@imfinereallyy @sourw0lfs

[qiutls]

TNGDH 010

The first day of the Northern festival dawned.

It was noisy all over the place. I woke up early in the morning and sat up on the sawdust with uneven hair.

I'd love to sleep more, but I had a lot of work to do. First of all, it was necessary to increase the miracle value to further increase the duration time of "Summon."

I'm at a loss on how to fill up the remaining percent, but at least I know I can't fill them in this house filled with damn mealworms and crickets.

Yeah, let's go out.

It is also good to go out and grasp the atmosphere of the castle, and check what happens in < Heart of Winter > at this time. And if possible, I may change some of the events and slightly raise the miracle value.

I only have 30 minutes a day, I really need to use it well…

[ Should I use "Summon" now? (｡❛ᴗ❛｡) ]

'No!'

Not now, I don't have any clothes!

Ugh, but there's no better time to go out than now. It has only been 10 minutes since Kyle went to survey the castle for the festival. It would take an hour to complete one roundtrip.

If only there's other clothes available, except for the clothes the magicians picked up…

'Ah! That's right!'

Just then, a wonderful thought came to mind.

The space where Sen found me and chatted along with the other maids. It was the place where they do laundry. In other words, I can get the clothes that servants wore.

Let's just get one of out the pile. Even if it's a bit uncomfortable to know that someone has already worn it, it's way better than being naked.

You never know, I might be able to wear a sleek, and well-washed butler's uniform… Don't you think it'll look good on me?

I had a pleasant imagination in my own way before using "Summon" in the corner of the room.

[ Good luck! (ෆ`꒳´ෆ) ]

*

However, there was another problem that I've never anticipated.

"I've really lived…"

Originally, life was something you were supposed to know when you've actually lived once, but if you were going with this kind of development, you should at least give me a preview.

I sat with my legs spread out on the stone steps in the corner and put my elbows on my knees. And with an infinitely gloomy look on my face, I stared at the maid's uniform in amazement.

"….."

I should have expected, all the people gathered then were maids. There was no such thing as the butler's uniformed I imagined earlier. Shirts, vests, pants, and shoes are nowhere to be found.

The best I could find was an ankle-length black skirt and an ornamental white apron, and for now, it was the only clothes I could choose.

I screamed silently ruffling my hair with my hands, how can I walk around like this! What do you mean I have to wear maid clothes, I'm a man!

"What's the difference between this and running around naked!"

[ Do you want me to turn off "Summon"? ]

No, don't! That's not what I meant. On second thought, this is not that bad. It's warm and I can move freely, it's even a bit nice… Damn it.

"It's hard to make ends meet."

With this outfit, it's best not to be caught by maids. No, it's best not to be seen by anyone. Hey system, do you have any transparency skills? I'm going crazy here.

Even though I hated it, I had to move anyways. I only have half an hour a day, I need to make the most out of it. I shook myself and went downstairs.

"It would be nice if we could hold the banquet sooner."

"What kind of clothes will do you think His Highness will wear this time?"

"Do you think there'll be more people than last year?"

I tactfully intermingled with servants here and there and heard stories of this and that.

The Northern festival is held only once a year, and it lasts for a week starting from the day when the night is the longest that year. It was no exaggeration to say that it was the grandest even held at the Blake's estate.

The usually dull and cold Blake Castle was now animated and people kept bringing in food from the storage. You can see that the merchants also brought a full carriage. 'Indeed, a festival is a festival.'

The last memory of a festival I remember in my old life was drinking makgeolli at the university festival and suffering from a massive hangover the next day.

At that time, key information suddenly fell into my ears.

"I hope this year goes by without any problems…"

"That's what I'm saying, why am I so nervous? Last year, aristocrats who were in favor of the prince came and bothered me, but this time apparently, the prince himself will attend the banquet."

"Is the rumor really true?"

"Is the prince really coming personally here in the North?"

I crept up behind them with my ears perked up. Of course, I didn't forget to use the broom I got to pretend to sweep across the floor and move.

They went into the banquet hall, loaded with goods, and soon began to decorate the place with flowers and moved the tables around the central dance hall.

"I know right, when this land was a wasteland, he didn't care, even when his subjects asked for his help."

"But since Lord Kyle came, things have improved remarkably. Didn't they say, the reason why the prince never came even thought there was a festival here every year, is because of the bad relationship between brothers? Isn't that the famous story?"

"They sent him to die, but he didn't. Tsk. Tsk."

"Apparently, His Highness Belial will also come, along with the previous Serena, who's on bad terms with Duke Kyle. Their age difference is also…"

the one on bad terms with Kyle is Belial and not the previous Serena, which is a different Serena from Sen​

Oh yeah, this is the kind of gossip I want to hear.

'As expected, people who are preparing for the banquet, know the most.'

I should get closer to them, let's step around these servants who are contemplating what to do with the old chandelier, and try to hear more information…

"Woah! That scared me!"

Just in time, the worker who was complaining about the old and loose chandelier ring, turned around and our eyes met.

Wow, you have a really loud voice, thanks to you I was surprised and almost jumped.

"Wait a minute… I don't think I've seen you here before."

… Oh dear.

The skill "Summon" uses my original form and face. I don't know how the system brought my life's data into this world, because if I asked it would never shut up, but right now this person is seeing a face it has probably never seen before, a Korean's face.

In other words, it's a face that doesn't fit this world.

I turned around as naturally as possible and kept sweeping.

​Just be natural…

"Hey you!"

It felt like my joints were squeaking whenever I moved.

Indeed, I have zero talent for acting. During the school festival, I always played the role of a tree or a stone. Of course, I didn't want to play that role but for some reason, everyone left it up to me.

The man who looked at me suspiciously, tried to reach for me. But just before he reached my shoulder, I started to move.

I don't care about acting or anything, I just know if I get caught here, it's the end.

"Hey system, how many minutes are left for the skill?"

[ "Summon" will end in 7 minutes. ]

There's less than 10 minutes left.

I can just run until the skill ends.

"Isn't that, that guy?"

It's just your imagination. It can't be you'll know it's me from looking at the shoulders and the height right?

"I'm going crazy."

I only had those clothes to wear. What was I supposed to do in that situation, technically I'm a victim too.

"Wasn't it a few days ago, a guy sneaked into the Lord's study and event took his shirt?"

"Ho, is he that.."

"There, that brown haired guy, just stand there and don't move!"

Ah, I can't hear you. I can't hear anything.

I started fast, almost as if I were running. The soles of my feet felt so cold and numb, but I couldn't help it, there were only socks in the laundry room and no shoes.

'I feel so uncomfortable, I'll wash my hands and feet as soon as I get there.'

This time, after washing my feet, I'll turn the bowl over instead of leaving the dirty water inside, or else they won't change it to new water.

I left the banquet hall, climbed a floor, and fled frantically to the left corridor, it's been a long time since I threw away the broom I held.

'I should've worked out.'

I overestimated the physical strength of an office worker. But at least, I wasn't as weak as before since I rode a wheel desperately to become human.

Thump.

"… Ah!"

I bumped into someone as soon as I turned around the corner of the hallway. You're lucky I'm letting you off the hook today.

"Sorry-"

Obviously I was walking quite quickly but this person didn't even move a bit when we collided, yet I bounced back like a ball.

"Are you okay?"

His voice, low and grave, a voice I'm quite familiar with.

… That's right, it's a voice I hear everyday.

'I'm doomed.'

[ Kyle Jane Minehardt. The Great Duke of Blake. ]

I know. I know. You don't have to tell me.

I turned around and looked at him.

It hasn't even been seven minutes yet and it was weird to end the skill right in front of him. You said I'd be lucky enough to become human? Are you sure it's luck or bad luck?!

[ (◐▽◐);;; ]

'Fuck it.'

I started running away from Kyle and he started chasing me.

​His heavy boots banged on the floor and sounded loudly as he approached me. It was like a horror movie. I kept running like before, yet he was just walking. The distance between us gradually got less and less.

"Hey."

I don't know what to do. I'm never running away from him again. When I looked back secretly, his shadow was hanging around my feet.

'….. Crazy'

He's not the Duke of the North for no reason.

Now I really started to give my all into running. The ankle-long skirt started to get in the way, so I held them up with my hands to move my legs easily.

Ah, shit, I don't even have shoes. What kind of situation is this!

"Stop."

'I don't think I will.'

I gasped and tried to breathe in as much air as possible and squeezed out the last drop of my strength to ran further away. When Kyle saw I didn't listen to his orders, he also started following me quickly.

Why are his steps so big? If you're tall, you do everything bigger is that it? How can you make me feel this miserable?

Step. Step. Step.

The sound of bare feet running like crazy and the sound of boots irregularly stepping on the floor. I felt all the emotions I was bottling rise up as I continued to run on the cold floor.

Hey! Stop following me! It's time to give up.

[ "Summon" will end in 1 minute. ]

I shouldn't disappear suddenly today, and it should bring me back to the hamster house once the time is up…

he's talking about the hamster form

Before I knew it, Kyle was right behind me, at this rate, he'll catch up even before a minute passes.

I ran all the way here with the thought of being able to escape, but now it seems like I can't help it. But it seems like I have no choice but to wait for the skill to end and recall back to the hamster house.

Running straight down the corridor, I turned towards the stairs and went down the steps.

"Uh…"

​My body leaned forward greatly as I was about to fall when a large hard pulled my arm and causing me to sway back into the ground.

I turned around and saw the owner of the hand, I looked at Kyle with my eyes wide open. My heart was already falling down the stairs, yet my body was held in place with his hand.

"Who are you?"

I can't answer if you ask like that.

[ "Summon" will end in 10 seconds. ]

'It's almost time anyways.'

​You're right system, there's no such thing as bad luck.

I laughed and held onto Kyle's arm but still not straightening my tilted body. I wasn't intent on making a good impression. So, I spoke in a sarcastic tone.

Who am I? Me?

"I'm your companion-"

note that companion used here can mean a lot of things, can be friend, associate, partner or even lover, Soohyun was going to say "I'm your companionship hamster" but it got cut off XD

​Just then the 10 seconds was up and white light came out of my body. Kyle frowned at the blinding light that flashed before his eyes.

And the me that was covered in that light, became a hamster.

… Who was back in the hamster house.

―…….

I turned my head around and looked at the familiar sawdust and the transparent glass and the duke's study.

Hey, if you're gonna take me back! Take me back after I finished my words! How can you end it before I could say I was a companionship pet. A pet!

​I jumped in anger and threw myself on the floor. Great, now not only am I a clothes thief, I'm now a pervert who dresses as a woman and confessed to the Grand Duke.

― Squeak! [ Ahhh! ]

I think it's better to keep living as a hamster. Right? Right. Should I just live like this? That thought easily vanished as I saw the bowl full of mealworms.

Kyle's POV

The flash slowly died down and Kyle opened his eyes. His view was still blurred, perhaps because it was directly hit by the light earlier, but fortunately there was no difficulty in identifying the object in his hands.

The problem was, there was only clothes and the man who had just been in his hands was gone.

A unique face, and thin brown hair that have never appeared in this land. And such light weight, that he was able to hold the man with one hand.

All that disappeared in an instant and all that was left was the maid uniform that he was wearing.

"… Is he a magician?"

But when he disappeared, he didn't seem to chant any incantations. Rather, the last words he said before he disappeared was that he was my 'companion'.

Above all, I definitely saw him for the first time today, yet I felt a strange sense of familiarity. Even though no one I know has no hobby of dressing as a woman.

Kyle raised his eyebrows and picked up the clothes properly. Even when he said he was my companion, why did I just stay still and keep holding his arm.

"I'll find you…"

Even if what you said was just nonsense, I want to find you again.

T/N: this part of the novel is illustrated and made into a promo which you can find in the masterpage for this novel. tysm for everyone who's reading this! and thank you for all the likes, follow and ko-fis <3

novel ⠀✿⠀ next

[jujumin-translates]

[A3!] Event | Devil Maid’s Holiday | Episode 7

Sakuya: …So that’s why I want to know if there’s a way we can talk things out with them!

Izumi: Hmm…

Izumi: Of course, I understand where you’re coming from, Sakuya-kun. But we’re talking about someone who’s ultimately a client, so I’m not sure if they’ll approve of your request…

Izumi: I mean, maybe we could negotiate if we had recordings of past performances or something to show them.

Sakuya: …

Sakuya: So you’re saying we could ask them to make a decision after having them watch one of our plays?

Izumi: You mean, you want to just show them the performance we were going to do this time?

Sakuya: Yeah. We’ll do things the way they want, wear Yuki-kun’s costumes, and put on a performance.

Izumi: (...It’s rare to see Sakuya-kun argue this much.)

Izumi: Why do you want to do this so badly, Sakuya-kun?

Sakuya: We’re the ones who have worn Yuki-kun’s costumes the most.

Sakuya: That’s why no one can wear the costumes Yuki-kun makes better than we can…

Sakuya: I just think we’re the ones who know the joy of being able to wear them for a play the most.

Sakuya: …I know it’s a long shot. And I can’t exactly say I’m confident that they’ll accept our offer.

Sakuya: Even so, I still want to try.

Izumi: (If I’m being honest, I think the time frame alone would make it difficult. But if he’s willing to put up a fight for it this much, I’d like to have faith in Sakuya-kun.)

Izumi: …Gotcha.

Izumi: Okay. I’ll try and ask them then. I’ll try to negotiate the best I can.

Sakuya: …!

Sakuya: Director! Thank you so much! 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Yuki: …Ugh.

Yuki: (I’m struggling with these costume ideas more than I thought I would. Maybe I just need a change of scenery…)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

*Someone running*

Yuki: (Those sure are some noisy footsteps coming from the stairs. Probably just Misumi sprinting around crazily aga--.)

Sakuya: Yuki-kun!!

Yuki: Huh? Sakuya?

Sakuya: We might be able to wear the costumes and do a play!

Yuki: The costumes… You mean the commissioned ones?

Sakuya: Yeah! The Director went and contacted the person!

Sakuya: Ah, but… Nothing’s official yet. We want them to watch our play and then let them decide.

Yuki: What?

Yuki: …And what if we can’t do a performance? What are we gonna do then? Just let the whole thing come crashing down?

Sakuya: If that happens, we’ve asked the idols who were originally scheduled to perform to do a live performance. …In your costumes, Yuki-kun.

Yuki: Haah… You’ve really got balls in the weirdest way possible, huh?

Sakuya: It’s just that… When I was listening to you talk, I felt like I couldn’t not do something.

Yuki: We don’t have much time, though. Are you still sure we can pull this off?

Sakuya: …I don’t know. But I think everyone would be willing to help if we asked them.

Sakuya: Besides, we promised to lend a hand with anything aside from the costumes.

Yuki: …Right.

Yuki: (I’ve really got no clue where all his confidence is coming from. Well, but--.)

Yuki: Got it, I’m in.

Yuki: That said, none of you are allowed to complain about the costumes I end up making. Whoever I cast absolutely has to wear it.

Sakuya: Yeah! Everyone will definitely wear them!

Yuki: Why are you talking about this as if you’re not part of it? You’re the one who started this whole thing. You’re gonna have to wear one too.

Sakuya: R-Right! …I’ll do my best!

Yuki: …You really are something.

Yuki: (I’m gonna try to believe in Sakuya.)

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[allaboutcinderella]

I’m here to talk about “Bad Cinderella” or as it was known on the West End originally, “Cinderella!” By Andrew Lloyd Webber:

This show got so much hate once it came to America, but I’m here to talk about why I love this show so much. 💕

To be clear, I love the West End version. The show originated in the UK and starred the extremely talented Carrie Hope Fletcher as the title role.

The story begins in the town of Belleville, a town so pretty and perfect it almost makes you queasy. The citizens of this town are known for being the most beautiful people of any kingdom and they dislike anyone who dares to be different.

Cue Cinderella! A rebellious young woman who is the opposite of every citizen of Belleville and doesn’t care who knows it. She dresses in black and defaces public property, she’s a “gutter rose” and proud of it. The biggest thing that makes Cinderella a public enemy here is that she knows how fake everyone in Belleville truly is, and they don’t like someone pointing out their flaws. The women get work done on themselves on the daily, everyone is cheating on their significant others etc…

So on the day the town is due to receive the award for the Best Kingdom for the 50th year in a row, Cinderella decides to have fun and deface a statue that has been built to honor the deceased Prince Charming. (He is MIA after going to fight a dragon, so his mother The Queen has made this tribute to him).

She spray paints it, dresses it up and due to this, the town does not receive the award. The towns people hate this and hunt down Cinderella to tie her up for the wolves.

Her childhood friend, Prince Sebastian, the younger brother of the missing Prince Charming, sets her free and rags on her for destroying the celebration. He then praises her actions seeing as he also hates the town and how fake everyone is. These two are the only ones in the town who seem to be their real selves and haven’t bought into the whole shallow fashionable scene.

Cinderella of course lives as a maid for her wicked stepmother and vain stepsisters. All three are gorgeous and fabulous in looks but mean as the classic story goes. The stepfamily is very obsessed with status and appearances so when Cinderella ruins the town’s reputation, they fear they’ll be dragged down with her seeing as she resides with them. The stepmother threatens Cinderella that she’ll be thrown out if she misbehaves any more. Cinderella agrees to this.

Prince Sebastian has trouble in his end as well for even being associated with Cinderella. The Queen is not subtle with her displeasure on the fact that Sebastian is to inherit to throne and is the future of their kingdom. Seeing as he is viewed as such a loser in a kingdom that is all based on being pretty and perfect. His mother continuously reminds him of how amazing his brother was and how Sebastian will never measure up. The Queen then instructs the knights to help Sebastian better himself to prep him for the day he will become King. To help speed his progress along (in her eyes) the Queen decides to throw a ball to find “the perfect Queen for a perfect King.” Sebastian is terrified of this seeing as he has feeling for Cinderella. The Queen refuses to let him move on these feelings and assure him there is a much better woman waiting for him.

Cinderella runs into Sebastian later in the market and it’s clear Sebastian has started to become a different person. He’s attempting to flirt with women in the village as they drool over him now that he’s to be the new King and is on the lookout for his Queen. This gives Cinderella the ick, but she still smiles when Sebastian asks if she’ll be at the ball. The stepmother overhears this and reminds Cinderella that she’ll only embarrass herself if she attends the ball and that she will never be in Sebastian’s league now that he has gorgeous women falling all over him. This breaks Cinderella’s heart and she runs off crying.

The day of the ball arrives and Cinderella, while helping her stepsisters get ready is again reminded that she would never be someone the Prince would be with seeing how “ugly” she is. (She is actually extremely pretty but people hate on anyone who is different right?) To this Cinderella says, “I’ll show you.”

She seeks the help of the town’s all around beauty guru, plastic surgeon and makeover master, The Godmother. The Godmother’s shop is filled with gowns and sparkly things, including a pair of crystal shoes that catch Cinderella’s eye. The Godmother is intrigued by Cinderella and how different she is. “I’ve never seen you before…” she says.

Cinderella tells her how she wishes she was the same as everyone else but better. She asks for the Godmother to make her pretty and look like a Queen. To be so beautiful it makes people question their looks and envy her. The Godmother agrees to do this free of charge for her, but not out of kindness. She tells Cinderella, “we don’t deal in money here… we deal in dreams. To make yours come true, I need to know you are serious. Because what I do is serious.” She asks for the silver butterfly locket Cinderella is wearing as her payment. Cinderella is reluctant to give it up seeing as it is the only thing of her mother’s that she has, but regardless of her feelings, she gives it to the Godmother. This proves to the Godmother that Cinderella is serious about giving up her true self to become “beautiful.”

The Godmother proceeds to warn Cinderella that beauty is pain and that the makeover process will not be kind. Cinderella agrees to any pain she may endure. Lucky for her, the Godmother tells her she doesn’t have the time to do any permanent treatment on her (aka surgery) but instead gives her a blonde wig to cover her dark hair, lighter makeup and a gorgeous silver gown. To top it off, she gives her the crystal shoes. The shoes are tight as is the dress, which leads the Godmother to remind Cinderella she agreed to the pain these things will cause. She then tells Cinderella to be in bed by midnight “on ice” to heal her wounds from the borrowed garments. Any longer and she’ll be in torment. Cinderella seems to be so enamored with how good she looks, she almost doesn’t hear the warning.

Cinderella makes her grand entrance at the ball and dazzles the crowd. The only one not taken by her appearance is Sebastian. He doesn’t recognize her and sees her only as another typical fake girl trying to get his crown. She tries to admit her feelings for him now that she feels confident enough to do so, but this backfires terribly for her. Sebastian scoffs at her for this assures her he would never marry some “drunk” woman who thinks she’s hot stuff. Understandably flabbergasted, Cinderella gives him space and in doing so, leaves the floor open for more chaos to ensue. Just before the clock strikes twelve, her stepsister Adele, lunges for Sebastian and kisses him. The clock begins to chime and the Queen excitedly proclaims the Prince has found his wife to be! Amongst the cheering, Sebastian tries to protest and a scorned Cinderella, rips at her dress and tears off the blonde wig revealing her real hair. Sebastian recognizes her as she runs from the ball.

Heartbroken, Cinderella sings about how she was a fool to try and be something she isn’t and will never be. She realizes she would have been better on her own rather than trying to win someone who would never love her. Sebastian catches up to her and tries to explain that he had nothing to do with her stepsister kissing him, to which Cinderella chucks one of the silver shoes at him while shouting she’s had enough of his nonsense. (He was a major ass to her at the ball so I understand her anger). She tells him she’s leaving town and to be happy with his new wife.

Sebastian sings about how he blew his chances with the only girl he’s ever loved and the only person who loved him for who he is, not his title. He exclaims to his mother and the entire court how he will be the King they all wanted. A selfish, hateful, miserable tyrant! Sebastian says he will marry out of honor for his country but not for love. He vows to never be happy as long as he is forced to be this fake King.

On the day of the wedding, Cinderella is packing her things in preparation to leave the kingdom, but not before blackmailing her stepmother. “If you want me gone so badly, pay me to leave.” She tells the stepmother that she could easily stay in town and make their lives miserable, unless she’s paid a good sum. Her stepmother is honestly impressed with her haggling and agrees.

Once she thinks everyone has left for the wedding, Cinderella finds her one crystal shoe in her bag and reflects on how she was so dumb in trying to have a happy ending when “girls like her don’t end up with a Prince.” While wallowing in self pitty, her stepsister Marie (the one not getting married) stumbles in and tells Cinderella to stop feeling sorry for herself. She tells her how she is also miserable living in this family and how much she hates her mother. Marie proposes they team up to destroy the wedding. “Go to the church and tell him you love him,” she says. Marie finally tells Cinderella that she is responsible for her own happy ending and she is capable of making it happen. Stunned by this, Cinderella is left with the decision to crash the wedding or just leave. She chooses to run to the church to crash the wedding. 💒🏃🏻‍♀️💨

At the wedding, Sebastian’s vows are interrupted. However, it is not by Cinderella, but instead his missing brother Prince Charming! The entire town is taken aback by his reappearance that they forget the wedding is even happening. Prince Charming announces he is back to proclaim his rightful place as King, marrying the MAN of his dreams (yep Prince Charming is gay 🏳️‍🌈✨) and relieving Sebastian of the responsibility. The wedding continues not for Sebastian, but for Prince Charming and his new love. The bells chime and everyone cheers, “long live the Prince!” Sadly, Cinderella hears this in the distance and thinks she is too late. She leaves.

At the reception, Sebastian sees a very intoxicated Marie. She laughs about how he blew his chance with Cinderella and now she’s gone. He is confused and asks what she means by “gone.” Giggling, she tells him Cinderella left town and is probably on a boat by now going who knows where. Sebastian races out of the castle all the way to Cinderella’s house. On the way, he runs into the Godmother who is wearing a familiar necklace around her neck. “That belongs to Cinderella!” he tells her. “Oh…” she says. “You must be the boy.” She tells him it’s a pitty Cinderella gave up so much to be beautiful only to be shunned by him. She leaves him with the necklace so he can be reminded of what he’s lost. Sebastian runs to the house and calls for Cinderella. He hears no answer. In the kitchen he sees the one silver shoe glistening on the table and realizes, “She’s really gone.” Just then, Cinderella walks in and explains she only came back for the shoe. It’s crystal so she had planned to sell it on her trip. Sebastian apologizes profusely to her and admits he was an idiot. Numb to his apology, Cinderella says it was just never meant to be and it’s not his fault. He then talks about how he should have never tried to be someone he wasn’t to impress people. To this, she also admits fault seeing as she did the same thing to impress him. Sebastian tells her she never had to change, because she was always perfect to him. ❤️

He gives her the locket back and Cinderella is brought to tears. She kisses Sebastian and two agree to run away together to live happily in their freedom.

✨The end! 👠✨

So yes I think the story is fun and unique. The production is quirky and silly but also very beautiful and heartwarming. The talent in the show is unmeasurable! Everyone gave their all in this production and it shows.

The American cast was just as committed but sadly due to the changes in the script and costumes, it just wasn’t the same.

I truly love this show. I think if people go into it knowing the plot more in depth, they’ll appreciate it more. ❤️ Thanks for reading!

[annie-creates]

Only for tonight

Pairing: Queen Ravenna x child reader (platonic)

Genre: fluff

Words: 700

Note: After a little while I'm back with another request, I don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind and it's a little short but I hope you'll like it. Thank you for still liking my work and as always send in any requests that come to mind, I'm feeling terribly uninspired lately.

The queen’s patience was running thin. Day and night she searched the whole kingdom piece by piece for Snow White, but she was still coming back empty handed. As if the earth swallowed her whole, as if there was some kind of spell hiding her from the monarch’s sight. Woods, fields and rivers were thoroughly searched and yet not even a trace of the traitor was found. If she doesn’t catch her soon, the kingdom will know Snow White escaped her wrath and what will force them to follow her rule and orders then? Knowing people can get away with disobeying?

That’s how she found herself in the deep forests once again, too tired of the work to disguise her real resemblance. It wasn’t likely anyone innocent would wonder deep enough to actually see her anyway. Everyone knew the woods were unwelcoming and scary, trees that could talk and branches that could catch you, and if you weren’t careful enough you were unlikely to ever find your way out again. Lost in thought she registered the excited childish babbling too late, coming face to face with a little girl who couldn’t be older than six winters. The child was happily singing notes she didn’t recognize, jumping around with a single daisy in her hand.

“Well hello there,” the queen greeted shaking herself from the initial shock. “Where are your parents, little child?”

Hoping the adults who must have left the child unattended could point her in the direction of the girl she was actually looking for, she questioned the kid, who just threw up her hands in response. With mumbled words she explained there are no parents, something hard to believe for Ravenna. Who with a heart purer than hers would leave such a cute child alone?

“Oh, then do you live somewhere around? Where’s your house?” She was desperately trying to not get influenced by the sweetness and innocence in front of her eyes, but that was a battle with herself she was clearly losing.

Once again the answer was a very polite no, the child was clearly too young to understand in how dangerous situation they are, and how easy it would be for them to get hurt, or worse get eaten by something. Against her better judgement she picked the child up, who gave her excited giggles in response, and understanding she won’t find her original family she took her back to the castle with her. Even the cruelest person wouldn’t let a little innocent child get hurt for nothing, right? It wasn’t right to leave her there with nothing and no one.

The little girl seemed unbothered by the change of environment, even though the hard castle floors were not as gentle as the mosses of the forest and the stone walls didn’t provide the same warmth as the afternoon sun over the green leaves. With nothing as interesting in the almost empty throne room the child got bored pretty fast, dangling her legs from the chair with a bored sigh.

“Maid!” the queen called, one of her servants hurrying into the room. “Bring the little princess something to do, some pictures and pencils to color or plasticine to play with.”

Aside from her innocent excitement, her good table etiquette was another thing that pleasantly surprised the woman at the dinnertime. The girl ate with a knife and fork, elbows off the table, just like the queen was thought herself as a young child. The night time was the moment that appeared to make the first difficulties. The little girl was seemingly scared to go to sleep, even when the bed was prepared warm and cozy.

“What is it, why don’t you want to go to bed?” Ravenna questioned her sitting at the side of her duvets.

“Am scared. Rena sleep here?” the little lady admitted, patting the space in bed next to her.

“I have my own bed to return to,” the queen refused gently.

“Pwease?” how could anyone say no to those sad puppy eyes?

“Ugh, okay, but only for tonight,” Ravenna warned her before getting in bed next to her and hugging the child to her, Snow White long gone from her mind.

[imaginesmai]

Once upon a fairy tale - Ubbe Ragnarson (1)

First part is here! I have almost finished the story, so expect one part per day BECAUSE I NEED TO SHARE IT.

Other parts: Once Upon A Fairy Tale Masterlist

Plot: just like any other summer, you have to leave your country. Just like any other summer, Ubbe has to open his to your annoying presence.

Warnings: none, maybe mentions of sex and nakedness.

-

“I think I might be sick”

“You aren’t”

“Maybe I’ve got the chicken pox. Have you heard about it? At least half of – “

“You haven’t”

“Storms seasons have barely finished. Would it be safe for the last remain of our dynasty to take that risk?”

“It is”

“Father, I don’t think – “

“We have the same argument every year, darling” your father sighed, finally looking up from the mountain of papers on his desk. “You’ve already faked the chicken pox twice, you got food poisoning on purpose last year and the storm season finished two moons ago. So, unless the kingdom is about to crumble in the next hours, we’re leaving”

“It might” you muttered, looking angrily at the hem of your dress. “It might”

You knew it was pointless to argue with him, but each time, you tried. The chicken pox wasn’t actually an original idea, but Ubbe’s, who tried a year before you. And no one had any proof of the princess sneaking into the kitchens in the middle of the night to drink expired milk. You made sure of that.

None of them had worked. For the past sixteen years, princess Y/N Ealhmunding have spent the summer months in the lovely company of Ubbe Ragnarson and his brothers. It didn’t matter in which castle they decided to try – you hadn’t enjoyed a summer since you both were kids

The first year you actually wanted to try and make a new friend, because you rarely played with children your age. But Ubbe decided you making him look like a fool in front of his father was unforgivable, and after dinner he stained your dress with horse poop. Which got your in problems with your father and maid.

After multiple pranks, he went back to his castle and you thought it was over. Only for next year to go on a trip to his castle, in Mercia. You didn’t like Ubbe nor his brothers, and they didn’t like you. That summer, you went back home with a broken wrist and Ubbe had his nose broken for the first time.

It did not get better. If anything, both of you got smarter and more creative.

“Y/N” Ecbert called, dragging his daughter out of your torturous daydream. “Darling, look at me. You cannot fight me forever”

You didn’t look at him, and after a few moments, the sound of a chair scrapping the carpet filled the room. As he came closer, the anger faded away.

As long as you could remember, it had always been your father and you. Your mother died when you were a child, in some type of retaliation from another kingdom. There was a dark past to that land that not many people talked about, but that you knew. Your mother was assassinated and you were saved by accident. A servant who was in the castle managed to run away with a baby while the enemy took the castle and slaughtered everyone they found in their way.

And by the time they killed the queen and realized there was supposed to be a baby with your, princess Y/N was long gone.

Since then, it had been your father and you against the world. He let his daughter train with a wood sword while he practiced, and draw with ink on old papers while he attended to councils. Everyone in the castle knew and adored the young princess, with your bouncy locks and rosy cheeks. And still, they were happy knowing it wouldn’t be like that forever.

“He’s a good man. He’s responsible, caring, and loves his family” he said for what felt like a thousand time. “And you’ve known him since you were a child. He’s no stranger. One day – “

“I’ll have to marry a person I don’t love, not even like, and become what it is expected for me to be. Which is a quiet wife, ready to carry his children and look pretty while doing nothing” you cut him off, feeling more sad than angry. “I don’t want that, father. I don’t like him. We’ve tried getting along and we don’t. So maybe it’s time to move on”

“It’s not that simple, and you know it” Ecbert put a comforting hand on your shoulder and gave you a small smile. “He needs a wife. You need a husband. It could be worse”

“Sure, he could always break my leg after throwing me from the top of a ladder, almost drown me or make me drink coffee with salt. Oh, but he already did that.”

“Children do that, right? Do I have to remind you when you locked him in the barn and he wet himself?”

You thought about that summer and had to stop a smile. After another argument because something you couldn’t remember anymore, Ubbe had broken one of your dolls. One of your favorite dolls. And that night, when he came back from riding with his brothers, you decided to pay him back by locking him in the barn. Only that you forgot it was supposed to be for just a few hours and ended up falling asleep. The next morning, the ostler found him curled in his own pee after crying himself exhausted.

You weren’t proud of that moment, but it wasn’t by far the worst thing either of you had done. Cutting hair, giving rashes or breaking bones were only a small part of the long list of pranks you had performed over the years.

“It was a pretty good one”

“Yeah. For a child, Y/N” he snorted, and you finally met his kind eyes. “I’m getting old, and you – “

“Don’t say it” the princess whined, not liking that conversation.

“I have to” his eyes lost a bit of light and you were highly aware of the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, the whiteness of his hair and beard. “I don’t have any other children. Your mother gave me one and I couldn’t ask for anyone better. I couldn’t protect your like I should have, my darling. So I have to protect you, for when I’m gone. Other kingdoms have already started poking at the borders. Unless I assure the kingdom and your safety soon, they’ll start moving”

It was a reality everyone in the kingdom were well aware of. Great king Ecbert was no longer the man who conquered the kingdom of Wessex and brought the best out of it. Who built farms and houses for everyone and made its name known across kingdoms and countries. Now, he was a man who had a noticeable limp, who took medicine before going to sleep and forgot things every now and then.

And according to laws he couldn’t change, a princess like you couldn’t rule by your own. Not unless you were married to a man powerful enough to rule both his and your kingdom, because you were a woman, and women were supposed to just look pretty and carry children.

“Besides” he added, getting up with a soft creak from his left knee. “You didn’t see him last year. Maybe he has changed”

“For worse, probably”

Last year, Mercia entered in war with Northumbria. When the boats of Wessex appeared in the Ragnarsons’ castle, they found it almost empty. Aslaug had seen all of her sons leave to fight, dressed in shiny armors. Ragnar Lothbrok led an army against the enemies’ forces, and you had been there when he came back. Not as a victorious king, but as a tired man who had seen too many wars.

Even though Mercia won, Ubbe and Sigurd stayed in the border to maintain the peace, and you spent the summer with the servants and Aslaug. While she approved the accord between her husband and Ecbert, she didn’t particularly like her soon to be daughter – or anyone that wasn’t her, for that matter. Which turned that last summer into the most boring of your life.

You hoped that summer would be different.

 -

 Ubbe watched the boats come closer to land, the port coming alive as the first rays of sun touched the horizon. It was soon, but not soon enough for the prince to miss the arrival of the guests. If anyone could call them that anymore, as they came every year. It had been a while since he visited Wessex. As the heir and commander of the great army, he couldn’t leave for the summer no more, so they had to come to him.

Which, if it was his choice, wouldn’t happen.

Ubbe Ragnarson had a wide range of scars on his body, all of them worthily obtained in battle. Only that he was a skilled warrior that rarely let a sword near him, and that the biggest battle he had faced so far was against a girl half his size.

“You should head to the port” Hvitserk said behind him, leaning against a tree. There was a naked woman between his legs, whose name they couldn’t remember. “Mother will be furious if she doesn’t find you there”

“She can think whatever she wants” he snapped. “They know just fine their way into the castle. And I’ll see her. Eventually”

“You should have seen her last year. She has tits”

Scoffing, he decided to ignore his brother. It was easy to enjoy life when the crown didn’t rest on him. When the biggest responsibility he had was not to let anyone know if he had a bastard, or at least don’t acknowledge them in public. In the last two years, Ubbe had gone from spoiled prince to commander, heir and almost king.

With a father that was spiraling away, a mother that couldn’t be farther from him, and an enemy that was ready to attack, he wouldn’t think about Y/N’s tits.

What he had thought about, though, was about you. He had always been opposed to the marriage between the two kingdoms, since the moment the young and bratty princess humiliated him in front of his father. Ubbe knew you shared his feelings, that you didn’t want to marry him and would rather throw yourself from that boat.

But he also knew Y/N were in a dangerous age, where other kingdoms showed interest in your hand and the power it held. He knew that you needed the marriage as much as he needed, a strategic union between two kingdoms before one of them fell.

No matter how many times he repeated that, he couldn’t bring himself to ride back to the port and greet the incomers. Pride was a prize he wouldn’t lose on this battle.

“You should bring her back” Ubbe told his brother, guiding his horse back to the road. “Her family might get worried”

“Worried about what? She’s with a prince. she couldn’t be safer” he chuckled, closing his eyes. “I intend to extend the night a few hours more. As soon as you leave”

“If I’m not wrong, this is my hideout. Yours was close to the cliff”

“What’s yours is mine, Ubbe. What’s yours is mine”

Ubbe spurred his horse and left his brother behind, knowing he wouldn’t like what was about to happen. It was the only place from where someone could see the port without being seen, and he had thought it would be empty. He didn’t think about his brother and his night adventures, which could happen anywhere.

The road back to the castle wasn’t long, and for Ubbe, it would have been shorter. He knew those lands as the back of his hand, was a fast rider and knew a bunch of shortcuts. But instead of taking them, he chose the long way.

Bordering cliffs, he let his horse choose the pace, stopping to drink water and sniff a few flowers. He let the wind blow his braid, until his cheeks were red and his hands cold. Since he could remember, riding horses and getting was has been one of his passions. Even more when he discovered it was one of the few things he could beat you to.

He would never admit it, but racing you through the forest and feeling the adrenaline of almost loosing was one of the very few moments he looked forward for. That, or losing knowing he did his best and wasn’t expected to do more.

Being the heir of Ragnarson wasn’t easy, and if he could, he would choose the life of any of his brothers. He knew Hvitserk envied him for the power and position he held above others, yet that came with a price. A price that, day by day, he was starting to understand.

By the time he reached the castle, the sun was high and the cold was giving space to the heats of the summer. During the first month, there wasn’t a big difference in Mercia, as there was snow in the mountains and ice in the forest. The same slow changes that every year started with the arrival of his future wife and the king of Wessex.

“She’s mad”

Ubbe had heard his brother Sigurd entering the barn, so he wasn’t surprised when he appeared behind him.

“You should have seen her face. It was red and she was doing that thing with her mouth when someone asks her to change her plans” Sigurd explained, staring as Ubbe tied up his horse. “Father wasn’t there either. It was a bit sad, actually. Only mother and me. But they didn’t say anything about it, so I guess they’re used by now”

“Where’s father?” for the last year, Ragnar had disappeared a few times, only to come back a week after thinner and dirtier, with no explanation. “Is he with Yidu?”

“Probably. He was complaining last night. You know how he gets” he shrugged. “You should go and say hi. Not because mother says so, just… it was sad. Like they aren’t welcome anymore”

He wanted to say that it was because they weren’t, but he bit his tongue just in time. Of all the brothers, you had grown closer to Sigurd. It wasn’t a friendship, nor a relationship. Yet whenever you could, you stuck to his side and in the past summers he seemed to tolerate your presence.

For his brother, he could do so. He could even pretend it was for his father, who wasn’t at his best moment. Either way, he left his horse to rest and made the way to his chambers, hoping to change into something decent and have a short bath that made him presentable. Not that it mattered when you had seen him covered in mud and forced him to come out of the lake wearing one of your dresses.

He tried to list reasons why he should actually try to accord the marriage proposal that summer, why he should make an effort to stop seeing the child who would put ants on his shoes and start seeing a woman he could grow fond of with the years. He managed to come up with two before reaching his room and opening the door.

When he looked up, he was met with a very naked body that belonged to his future wife. And he instantly added Hvitserk’s reason to the list.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Taglist: 

@66vikings​​

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Against the Tide - Sixteen

Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Original Female Character, Silvio Ricci x Original Female Character Characters: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (Bleach), Silvio Ricci (Ikemen Prince), Olivia DuBois (Original Female Character of Color) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergent, Pirates and Princes, Slow Burn, Action/Adventure, Worldbuilding, Angst, Some Subtle Racism, Sexual Tension, Political Subplot

Previous Chapter: Fifteen | Next Chapter: Seventeen

Chapter Masterlist

Summary:

Familiar laughter behind her cools all the scathing words on her tongue, and she turns to find a highly amused Grimmjow leaning against the taffrail. “Careful there,” he starts lazily, directing his words at Barnes. “Ya might not realize it, but she can kick your ass. And she might even do it if ya make her mad enough.”

“I don’t doubt that,” the other man calls back. “Carter’s still nursing a broken nose because of her.” He looks at Grimmjow, then back at Olivia. “Like you said, we’ll be pulling into port at Vora soon. Hope you’re ready to see the home you claim to love so much again.”

A/N: Chapter contains some sexual content.

Read on AO3

The remaining days on the Sea Queen pass as the previous ones have - with the vessel moving smoothly through the water, the Hellcat not far behind. 

More often than not, Daisy runs off with Kenny in the evenings under the guise of reading with him. Olivia suspects it’s partly because her lady’s maid wants to give her the time and privacy to spend with Grimmjow, but also partly because Daisy genuinely enjoys the young man’s company.

“You don’t look nearly as miserable as I expected you to,” Jarron Barnes remarks when Olivia joins him on the upper deck one morning. “I wonder what accounts for that?” 

She knows he’s trying to goad her into snapping back at him. Instead of rising to the bait, she ignores it completely. “We’re a day out from port at Vora,” she starts. “And I think it’s about time you tell me what your plan is for when we get there.” 

“Why?” Barnes looks sharply at her. “So you can figure out a way to foil that plan?”

“No,” she tells him truthfully. “Look… you’re smart, and I’d love to see you use that intelligence for more than just starting a pointless war you can’t win.” 

“You think it’s pointless?”

“I think it’s pointless if the only reason you go to war is because you don’t get your way,” she declares. “Doing that doesn’t make you any different from all the other assholes who have done the same thing before you. I think if what you’re after is something that’s really worth fighting for - which, in this case, should be Vora’s ability to stand on its own two feet - then the smarter thing to do would be to figure out how to get it without war.” 

To her surprise, he actually seems to consider her words. “Alright then,” he says finally. “What would you do if you were me?”

“Take my case to the King of Clario, like I told you before,” she reiterates. “But first, I would produce viable solutions to all the problems presented. If you want Vora to be able to govern itself without outside help, you need to come up with all the ways to make that happen… and you need to prove to Clario that it’s in their best interest to make it happen.”

Barnes leans forward, his curiosity piqued. “And how would you suggest I do that?” 

“Find someone who’s capable of ruling the country,” Olivia answers bluntly. “And if you insist on doing it yourself, get a good advisor… or, even better, a team of advisors. People who are versed in the complexities of government, but also diplomatic enough to be useful in negotiations. People who will tell you the truth, and not just what you want to hear. Best of all, they need to be people who are not only willing, but also able to help you turn Vora into an independent nation with a solid government of its own and a system in place for regulating its natural resources.”

He mulls over her words for a while. “And you think the King of Clario would actually go for that?” He asks finally.

“I think it would be a more palatable solution than just threatening him with a war he knows he can win,” she replies. “It makes you look more like a capable adult than a petulant child with a grudge.”

“You really don’t hold back, do you?” He grumbles. “You could be less blunt.”

“What exactly would I gain by being less honest?”

“I was gonna say people would like you more,” he laughs, “but based on the way you’ve got those two men wrapped around your little finger, and the way your lady’s maid practically worships you… I think people like you plenty the way you are.”

She scoffs. “Mind your own damn business.” 

“I have been,” Barnes retorts. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve said nothing to you about the ruckus your loud-ass pirate makes whenever he visits your cabin at night. And I won’t open my mouth about it to the prince when I see him either,” he adds, casting her a meaningful look. 

“Is that supposed to feel like a threat?” 

He shrugs. “It isn’t, honestly. You told me to mind my business, and I’m telling you I am.” 

Familiar laughter behind her cools all the scathing words on her tongue, and she turns to find a highly amused Grimmjow leaning against the taffrail. “Careful there,” he starts lazily, directing his words at Barnes. “Ya might not realize it, but she can kick your ass. And she might even do it if ya make her mad enough.”

“I don’t doubt that,” the other man calls back. “Carter’s still nursing a broken nose because of her.” He looks at Grimmjow, then back at Olivia. “Like you said, we’ll be pulling into port at Vora soon. Hope you’re ready to see the home you claim to love so much again.”

Without waiting for a response, he stalks off. 

“What crawled up his ass?” Grimmjow asks, watching him go. 

Olivia shrugs. “I just told him what he needed to hear,” she says quietly. “I don’t think he liked my honesty very much.” 

“Hm,” Grimmjow hums thoughtfully. After a moment, he moves closer to her. “Well? How’s it feel, knowin’ you’ll be home soon?” 

“I don’t really know,” is her candid response. “I think that I spent so many years putting the idea of coming back to Vora out of my head that it almost doesn’t feel real. And I guess…” She trails off, chewing her lower lip anxiously. “I guess I’m a little nervous about it.”

“Why?”

“Twenty years seems like a long time, but it really isn’t in some ways,” she explains. “What if there are other people who feel the same way about my family that Jarron Barnes does? What if there are people who think we’re traitors and want nothing to do with any of us? How am I supposed to help those people if they feel the way he does?” 

“Wouldn’t that be more of a reason for ya to help’ em?” Grimmjow asks reasonably. “If what they think about ya is bad, prove to ‘em that it ain’t true.” 

He makes a valid point, she knows, but the nervous fluttering in her chest won’t subside. 

“Listen, Sae,” he says, his voice taking on a warm, soft tone that makes her chest flutter in a different way. “You ain’t never been the type to be scared of anything - no man, no place, no task. I’ve watched you best a lotta things just by rollin’ up your sleeves and gettin’ to it.” 

“But I’ve never done anything like this before,” she protests. “This is… it’s all new to me. I’m not sure what I’m doing.” 

“Yeah, but you got the know-how in your head,” Grimmjow points out. “Remember? All them hours of burying your head in books and bein’ bored to tears learnin’ about the life of diplomats and how politics works?” He flashes her a grin. “Now’s your time to shine, Princess.” 

Despite the worries still swimming around in her head, she laughs. “I keep telling you, I’m not a princess.” 

“Maybe not,” he shrugs, “but that don’t mean you can’t act like one sometimes.”

She contemplates his words - not just those, but all the ones he’s said to her. “Thank you,” she says after a moment, her voice quiet. “I think I needed to hear that.” 

“Anytime, anywhere,” he answers good-naturedly, that grin still curling up the corners of his mouth. After a moment, he goes serious. “I came here to tell ya I won’t get in the way when we get to Vora.” 

Curiously, she looks up at him. “What do you mean, ‘get in the way’?”

“You got a job to do,” he says, dropping her a wink. “The less distraction you have, the better. So if ya want me to go, I’ll go. But if ya don’t mind me stickin’ around, I promise I won’t keep ya from doin’ what ya came here to.” 

Once again, Olivia finds herself unexpectedly touched by something he’s said. “You really are making a habit of this,” she laughs after a moment. “Being sweet and all.”

“Tch,” he scoffs. “Tell anybody and I’ll call ya the filthiest liar that ever lived.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she smiles back at him. 

--

Later, she tosses his words back at him. “I-I thought… you said,” she huffs, trying to catch her breath, “you wouldn’t… d-distract me.”

He laughs, though it comes out a bit strained. “We ain’t there yet,” he says, punctuating that last word with one long, slow roll of his hips. It presses him into her more deeply. “‘Sides,” he continues, dropping his head to nip at the tender skin right above her collarbone, “it’s our last night on this ship. Feel like that’s somethin’ worth celebratin’... don’t you?”

Olivia doesn’t answer him right away; her entire focus is solely on the onslaught of physical sensations he’s giving her. Her body feels heavy and sluggish, nearly spent from their first round. And while Grimmjow seems to be suffering only slightly from the energy lag she’s feeling in full, she’s grateful that their lovemaking this round has been lazy and slow. “Celebrate? Yes, I think you’re right.” She reaches out, cupping his face in her hands and bringing his mouth to hers for a languid, sloppy kiss. 

“Sweet as honey,” he whispers into her lips once they’ve parted. “Ya laugh at me when I say this, but I ain’t ever gonna get my fill of ya.”

She pulls him closer. 

Under his ministrations, she comes twice more before he finally lets himself spill inside of her. He stays just the way he is for a long while after, until Olivia can feel him softening inside of her. When he becomes soft enough to slip out, her body mourns the loss of him. 

He rolls to one side, reaching for her and pulling her into the tight circle of his embrace. They stay that way for a while, their breathing synchronized. Olivia is warm and sated and sleepy, and she’s started to doze off when Grimmjow speaks again. 

“You make me wanna be an honest man, Sae.” 

Groggily, she chuckles. “Why?”

“Just like you to ask the question nobody else would,” he laughs with her. “Thought ya might ask when I’m gonna do it - make an honest man of myself.” 

“Grimm, I didn’t fall in love with you because you were an honest man,” she says softly. “And doing… whatever you think makes you an honest man, wouldn’t change how I feel about you.” She pauses. “So I want to know why. What is it about me that makes you want to be an honest man?”

“You’re fixin’ to do somethin’ great,” he says solemnly. “Somethin’ important, that’s gonna change peoples’ lives.” He clicks his tongue in a quiet scoff. “Me? I ain’t the kinda man who belongs with a woman like you. I’d only drag ya down.”

“Oh?” She turns her head to face him, curiosity in her eyes. “And what kind of man do you think I’d need… to do these alleged ‘great things’ you speak of?”

He’s tempted to look away, but her brown eyes hold his blue ones in place. “You know,” he says after a moment, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Olivia considers those two words for a moment. “I think I know what kind of man you think I want - or need,” she starts slowly. “And while I can understand why you might think so, I’m tempted to tell you in a not-so-nice way why you’d be wrong about that.” 

Despite the weight of the conversation they’re having, he laughs. “Just another thing I love about ya,” he murmurs before pressing a kiss to her temple. “That bastard out there might not like it, but ya always tell it how it is.” 

“I’m not a diplomat,” Olivia sighs. “I just happened to be born into a diplomatic family. I never wanted a life of politics and arranged marriages and never-ending duties. I just wanted to be able to do work that was good, spend time with the people I love, and never be too far away from the sand and the sea.”

“Sounds to me like ya might like life at sea,” he chuckles.

He expects her to laugh with him. She doesn’t - her face is solemn, deep in thought. “Maybe you’re right,” she says finally, a wistful note in her tone. She shifts, burrowing deeper into his arms. “I’m trying my best to think of a way to help Vora, because it’s my home and I love it. But this isn’t… this isn’t how I wanted my first time back after twenty years to go. And it feels a little bit unfair that I didn’t really have much choice in the matter.”

Grimmjow makes a sympathetic sound. “How can I help?”

His words make something warm and sweet bloom in her chest. “You’re already helping,” she smiles, reaching up to brush an errant lock of hair out of his eyes. “But I don’t ever want to hear any nonsense about you not being the kind of man I belong with, or the kind of man I need,” she goes on. She’s still smiling, but there is a weight to her words that lets him know she means what she’s saying. “Okay?”

“Yes, m’lady,” he answers, reaching between them to make the sign of a cross over his heart. 

“Hm,” Olivia says thoughtfully. “I usually don’t like titles, but something about the way you say that…” 

--

Pulling into port at Vora is perhaps the most surreal experience Olivia has ever had. 

Everything is both familiar and dramatically different all at once. She remembers the sounds and smells and sights of the island she once called home, but there are little variations of the places she used to know so well. The faces at the portside markets are not the exact same ones she remembers, although she thinks she might recognize some of the features of those vendors that have taken over for the generation before them. 

“So this is Vora,” Daisy breathes beside her. “This is where you were born?” 

Olivia nods. “This is… home.” 

Her lady’s maid looks closely at her. “I can’t tell what you’re thinking,” she remarks. “You have this odd combination of happiness and sadness in your expression.”

“Nostalgia,” Olivia laughs quietly. “That’s called nostalgia.” She turns her head to watch as the crew of the Hellcat disembark. She spots Silvio among them, his face twisted in a characteristic scowl. When he gets close enough for her to speak without shouting, she greets him. “How was the voyage?”

“Long,” he answers simply. His eyes stray from her to take in their surroundings. “Where’s that son of a bitch Barnes?”

“Still onboard the Sea Queen,” she tells him.

Silvio turns from her abruptly, making his way towards the vessel in question. 

“Wait,” Olivia calls. “Where are you going?” 

“Where the hell do you think I’m going?” He calls the question over his shoulder, without stopping. 

His rhetorical question stirs panic in her gut, and she hurries after him. “Wait,” she calls again, when she’s caught up to him a few strides later. She puts a hand on his arm, and this time he does stop. “Maybe we should talk about this.” 

“Don’t tell me you want me to have mercy on the asshole who forcefully abducted you?” He raises his eyebrows at her, his tone challenging. 

“That’s… not what I’m saying,” she starts slowly. She knows that his temper is running hot, and her words can either put out the flames of his anger or pour more fuel onto them. She chooses carefully. “I think that maybe you should hear him out.” 

Silvio stares at her incredulously. “Are you an idiot? This man is ready to start a war if he can’t get what he wants.”

“While I don’t agree with his methods,” Olivia says firmly, “I don’t think what he wants is a bad thing.” 

“Explain.” 

“He wants Vora to have an independent government,” she asserts. “With the ability to control their own resources, trade, and taxes.”

“And how exactly does he propose to make that happen?”

“A lot has changed in twenty years. You said it yourself: back then, Clario needed resources Vora was in possession of, but instead of finding a way to make it a partnership between two countries, your father chose to flex his muscles and forcibly take them. If Vora is now able to manage those resources and is still willing to share with Clario, war doesn’t need to happen.” 

“What makes you think that’ll all play out the way you think it will?” Silvio asks. “The minute Clario lets Vora govern themselves, Vora will snatch all those resources back and we’ll be right back where we started.”

“I don’t think so,” she counters, gently but firmly. “I think we can convince him to come up with a solution that will satisfy both countries… and one that doesn’t result in Vora challenging Clario to a war they can’t win.”

Silvio looks her up and down. “You really believe that,” he says incredulously after a moment.

“I do,” she nods. “I’ve spent the last twenty-one days stuck on a boat with this man. He’s an asshole and he’s going about this the wrong way, but I… don’t disagree with his ideals. And I’d like to find a way for him to make what he wants to see happen peacefully.”

He stares at her. “You really are an idiot.” His words are harsh, but his tone is fond. It makes a little bloom of guilt sprout in Olivia’s chest, and she pushes it down. “Alright then,” he goes on. “What do you suggest?”

“Diplomacy,” she laughs. “Not ass-kicking.” 

Previous Chapter: Fifteen | Next Chapter: Seventeen

Tag List: @chrissie2003 @kryptoniteforsale @pamakali