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draconic-desire · 9 months ago

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A Dance With the Dragon I — The Tides Beckon

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I — You are here] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV]

The last thing you expected was to have caught the eye of Fontaine’s Chief Justice. You have no choice but to be swept into the dragon’s dance.

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, possessive behavior, forced imprisonment, unrequited relationship

It all started with your realization that Fontaine has some rather intriguing laws.

For as long as you could recall, you had aspired to become a marine biologist. Though you hailed from Mondstadt, you forged your curiosity in the tide pools and lakes around the edges of the region. You scoured over any novel you could find on marine ecology and animal behavior, spending endless hours lost in the Knights of Favonius library. On your thirteenth birthday, your parents bought you a Kamera, which launched your career in wildlife photography and research. You even went on to publish a book cataloguing pictures of your nation’s aquatic life. It came to no one’s surprise, then, when you were gifted with a hydro vision.

Although you loved your life in Mondstadt, the vast waters that surrounded the Land of Hydro beckoned you like the pull of a tide. So, on your twenty-fifth birthday, you parted with your family and homeland, traversing across Teyvat and experiencing its many wonders. You relished in the culture and cuisine in Liyue and marveled at the natural architecture of Sumeru’s forests. Yet nothing would ever be as breathtaking as your first glimpse at Fontaine, at the granite peaks rising above the crystalline waters teeming with life of all forms.

You had secured employment with a group researching the sudden uptick in seal strandings across the nation, taking you across Fontaine’s many beaches. Your main base was located near Romaritime Harbor, which prompted you to spend your lunch breaks exploring the Court of Fontaine.

You made quick friends with the Melusines, some of whom were still a bit nervous being around humans; however, you found their stories of the ocean fascinating and often invited them to join you for lunches or strolls through the city.

One in particular, Carole, had become your close friend after you encountered her being pelted with rocks by a mob of Fontainians. You didn’t hesitate to use your vision to immobilize the rocks and create a barrier around Carole, quickly ushering her to safety. You couldn’t comprehend the prejudices directed towards her and the other Melusines, but after that incident, you made sure to keep an eye out for all of your little friends.

One day, on one of your walks, you ran into said Melusine. She seemed despondent that only a handful of citizens were interested in her hand painted posters, so you decided to treat her to lunch and pastries to cheer her up. That’s when you first caught wind of the Hydro Dragon.

“Well, if you’re worried about the seals, you might call upon the Hydro Sovereign himself!” Carole chirped.

You tipped your head curiously, lowering the cup in your hands onto the cafe table. “Don’t you mean herself? Although I’ve never met the Hydro Archon, I’ve heard others refer to her as ‘Lady’ Furina.”

Carole shook her hands back and forth in front of her. “Oh, no, I mean the Hydro Dragon! He is responsible for keeping watch over Fontaine, which includes all of its resources and residents. I’ve heard that with every sea creature that passes, the heavens open and the dragon sheds his tears in mourning.” She took a bite of her croissant. “I have a feeling he’d be willing to help.”

You tapped your chin in thought. “You don’t say. Well, we are in a bit of a drought, which could be contributing to the beachings… Perhaps I’ll ask this Hydro Sovereign for his favor.”

On the days you were dispatched to Fontaine’s eastern beaches, you opted to sit by the Fountain of Lucine to wish for the Hydro Dragon’s help. It had become a tradition for you to do so ever since your conversation with Carole, for you swore that every time you prayed to his name, rain would grace the shores the next day.

During those research trips, your coworkers would invite you to attend trials at the Opera Epiclese, though you politely declined each time. You had no particular interest in the Opera and were much more inclined to spending your time outside and uninvolved with the court’s theatrics. Besides, you considered yourself to be a model citizen, so the proceedings of the court were beyond your worries.

Or so you thought.

~*~

The incident that led to your arrest was the violation of the order “no domestic pets shall be named after Furina”. Apparently the otter that paddled around the Harbor each morning was undignified of the title of “Focalotter”. You had thought the name quite clever and humorous—that is, until a horde of Gardes surrounded you during your shift one afternoon.

You were detained and led into the Opera immediately, which was where you currently found yourself. You frowned at the relatively large crowd—which, much to your dismay, included most of your coworkers—dispersed throughout the hall. Had they all come just to spectate your trial? Standing alone on the isolated balcony, you felt like an insect under a magnifying glass, an insignificant pest to be probed at for entertainment.

“And how do you plead?”

The deep, commanding voice above you wrenched you from your thoughts. Turning your eyes up, your (e/c) orbs were met with a penetrating gaze.

Pinning you with his lavender and silver eyes from atop his chair at the center of the court was none other than the Chief Justice of Fontaine, the Iudex himself, the face of the law in the Court. Monsieur Neuvillette.

This wasn’t your first interaction with the man.

Shortly your move to Fontaine, you had stumbled across his path. At first, it was just sightings from afar; he would be leaving the Opera, or purchasing a drink (Wait, is he paying for water?) from your favorite cafe. Your favorite flowers also began to appear at your doorstep, each time with a brief, cryptic note, usually something along the lines of To my little pearl —Sincerely, your guardian dragon. You didn’t think anything of it; if anything, it confirmed that your prayers to the Hydro Sovereign had been heard.

Then, however, Neuvillette began to periodically show up around your research stations, claiming to be investigating a court case. Even though the Iudex’s public appearances were supposedly rare, none of your coworkers, yourself included, thought to question his authority, answering his inquiries regarding the base’s activities to the best of your abilities.

You noticed that he tended to speak to you the most, even asking personal inquiries like your favorite drinks, foods, books, and hobbies, and about your marine photography especially. It must be part of the investigation, you rationalized. He was nothing but gentlemanly and always kept conversations curt and to the point, offering you a gentle smile as he departed.

If only you knew the true extent of his desires.

~*~

Naturally, he first caught wind of you from the Melusines. As his closest advisor, Carole regularly joined him for afternoon tea, and though he was not one for idle talk, the manner in which his friend spoke of you sparked his intrigue.

“And when those meanies were throwing rocks at me, (Y/n) was the only one who intervened! If it weren’t for her, I don’t know what would have happened…” Carole rubbed her head, as if remembering the sharp pain.

Neuvillette placed a hand over his heart. “I am eternally grateful for her presence. I cannot stand the thought of any harm befalling you.” The hydro dragon looked out the window of his study to the ocean, deep in thought. “Perhaps you could introduce me. It appears I have much to thank her for.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Carole raised a finger. “She mentioned lots of seal beachings recently, so I suggested that requesting rain from a certain dragon could assist her work!”

Neuvillette nodded, a slight smile pulling at his lips. “Ah, so that is why I’ve been hearing Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon echoing throughout my mind the past few weeks. You have quite the imagination, my friend.”

Carole shrugged playfully. “Hasn’t it been raining more often lately? Seems like her prayers worked!”

That they had, as Neuvillette could attest to.

The first time he heard your soft voice calling to him, he had sent rain the following morning—not for you, but for the seals. His position barred him from forming close relationships with humans, so the notion of attending to your inquiry face-to-face was eliminated immediately.

But when you returned again and again to implore for rain, he couldn’t deny his interest. The day after Carole informed him that his little supplicant and Carole’s hero were one in the same, he knew he had to meet you. He had actually left the Opera to see you for himself; whether he would actually converse with you was still uncertain, but your voice tickled an itch that he needed to scratched.

Neuvillette was an experienced and composed man, but setting his sights on you for the first time stole his breath. This, he thought, must be what it feels like to drown.

Your smile shone brighter than a Beryl conch, and your scent floated around him, sweeter than any marcotte. The light shimmering from the hydro vision on your hip reflected back in your eyes, giving them the appearance of twin pools of blue. You were sitting on a bench by the Fountain, a Kamera in hand as you gestured excitedly towards the screen. To your right was a Melusine he knew well, Kiara, who was clearly enraptured with the technology.

Though he knew of your kindness towards the Melusines—jumping in to save Carole alone was grounds for a medal of peace—seeing it before him sent the waters around his heart roiling. The Iudex was moved by the fact that, despite being a foreigner to Fontaine’s customs, you treated them with the utmost respect, going out of your way to befriend and include them in your daily life. Many citizens of Fontaine still harbored prejudice against the Melusines, but you… You even used she/her pronouns when referring to them, implementing the very law that he set forth.

“I use this for my research on seal behavior and conservation,” you explained to Kiara. “Having pictures of each individual helps us identify them in the future. We even give them silly names sometimes. See this one here? We call him Mr. Sealie, and this otter I like to call…”

When the pink Melusine started giggling over the nickname of your otter, a plan formed in his mind.

Whether attributable to his sense of justice or his draconic instincts, he knew one thing for certain. Like a shining pearl, you must be cherished and protected—and who better to serve than the Hydro Sovereign?

~*~

Those eyes will be my downfall.

Purple and silver locked with (e/c). Despite being newly appointed to the court, Neuvillette was the embodiment of both poise and intimidation. The very air around him seemed to shimmer with power and unyielding authority. His breathtaking eyes swirled with emotions—was that desire or disinterest?—you could not even begin to decipher in your current position.

Archons, help me.

You cleared your throat, hoping you didn’t appear too nervous in front of the judge. “Although I admit to using a version of the Hydro Archon’s name when referring to that otter, I was unaware of such a law against doing so. I’m not originally from Fontaine, so some of its, uh…lesser discussed laws are new to me.”

Neuvillette gazed around the courtroom as the crowd devoured the trial before them. It was baffling how naive humans could be sometimes; of course there was no rule against applying a silly nickname to a pet.

That is, until this morning when he had signed it into law.

Seeing you frightened and alone in the defendant’s box, however, was torture. It took all of his willpower to not to engulf you in his strong arms like waves around sand. But he had to maintain the facade of immovable judicator for a bit longer in order to mold you to his tide. Retaining his mask of composure, Neuvillette continued, “You do realize that previous defendants have been jailed for far less, correct?”

Frustration and fear flared within you. “But I—”

“Desecration of Lady Furina’s name is of the highest offense. Your behavior will not be excused, neither by myself nor the Oratrice.” Neuvillette raised the paper with your verdict, barely glancing over the words before he spoke. “The verdict stands: you, (Y/n) (L/n), are guilty.”

You clenched your fists heatedly. There was no arguing with the Iudex. Clearly, the polite and considerate version of Neuvillette that you had encountered earlier was an anomaly, for the figure looming above you was the complete opposite. Cold, calculating. Distant. A whirlpool cresting a bottomless sea.

Had this been his plan all along? Had you been the subject of his investigation? But why?

“However, because you are not from Fontaine, I will offer you a choice.”

You blinked up at the Justice, a knot of unease forming in your stomach. A choice? What choice did you truly have here? You pursed your lips warily but nodded for him to continue.

Neuvillete raised a gloved finger. “The first: you will serve a life sentence in the Fortress of Meropide.”

A wave of despair seared your insides like a brand. That was your fate? To be trapped beneath the region where you had always longed to live, never to feel the salty wind on your face or hear the calls of seals and gulls again? Surely, the second option was less cruel?

“Or, alternatively: you will dedicate your life to the court. You will abide by its laws without question and with unwavering commitment. You will relinquish your freedom; you will not be permitted to leave Fontaine and will be bound to this place for eternity.”

A choked sob escaped your lips. No matter what you chose, your life’s work and passion would be extinguished. You would be forced to either become an actress in the court’s performance or resign your soul to a watery grave.

Both option chained you to the Region of Hydro forever.

But one option at least granted you a semblance of freedom—a notion that you soon learned was as transitory as a bubble in water.

The crack of a cane against wood resounded through the Opera, quickly silencing the crowd’s mutterings over your sentence. “What is your decision?”

You could have heard a pin drop as the audience waited in rapt anticipation for your answer.

“I…I choose the latter,” you declared, tilting your chin up. You maintained direct eye contact with the Iudex all the while, holding onto your last bit of pride.

You could have sworn you saw Neuvillette release a breath of relief. “Very well. I hereby adjourn the court. Gardes, please escort the defendant to my office for further instruction.”

Two Gardes led you out of the Opera and onto an Aquabus to the city. They informed you that you would now be living in the Palais Mermonia and your duties would begin immediately. When you asked about retrieving your belongings and notifying your family, the Gardes exchanged glances.

“That won’t be necessary,” one said cryptically. “Monsieur Neuvillette will page your relatives and have your possessions seized.”

You frowned, wishing to object, but the Palais doors loomed before you like the entrance to a monster’s lair. You gulped but swallowed your fears, straightening your back pridefully as you were ushered inside and into the Chief Justice’s office. The bolting of the lock from the outside set alarm bells off immediately.

Neuvillette stood from his seat as you walked in. He coughed awkwardly, red dusting across his pale complexion. “Ah, Lady (Y/n). I do apologize for such a fast-paced series of events. You must be exhausted.” He motioned towards the sofa adjacent to his workspace. “Please, sit.”

You blinked at him in surprise. What happened to the unwavering judge from the court? Why was he suddenly treating you kindly? And why in the Archons’ names was he blushing of all things? Unsure how else to react, you obeyed and settled into your seat, with Neuvillette taking his own on the sofa across from you.

Neuvillette poured you a glass of what appeared to be plain water into an exquisitely ornamented cup. You took it wordlessly, noticing his eyes flare with a silver glow when your fingers brushed his own. Gripping his own cup, he raised the chalice towards you. “To a long and dedicated future together.”

You sketched a brow curiously but raised your glass in tandem to…whatever that was supposed to mean. “To not being in prison, I guess.”

“Indeed.” A breathy chuckle followed. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering as to what this whole business regarding your sentence is.” Neuvillette took a long sip from his chalice. He frowned slightly when you simply placed yours on the coffee table separating the two of you. “Although you may have thought you’d be completing droll office work, your duties will be a tad unorthodox.”

At this, your brows furrowed. Wasn’t that what all those employees you had passed in the Palais foyer had been doing—pushing papers? You had cringed at the dark bags under many of their eyes, at how many were asleep at their desks, imagining how similar you’ll look once your sentence was completed. But based on Neuvillette’s words, it sounded like you would be doing something very different.

Oh, Archons. I’m fucked.

You braced yourself to speak, but Neuvillette beat you to it.

“You are to be my wife.”

You blinked once, twice, waiting for the punchline of the joke.

Neuvillette merely stared at you with his hands folded across his lap, waiting for your response.

After a pregnant pause, you couldn’t help the stunned scoff that escaped your lips. “You can’t be serious.”

“Quite, I’m afraid.”

You shook your head. “With all due respect, Monsieur—”

“Please, call me Neuvillette.”

Ignoring him, you continued, “I did not agree to be your wife.”

The Chief Justice leaned back against the posh blue cushions of the sofa. “Although that may be the case, you are in no position to refuse. In fact, your sentence mandates that you follow my orders.”

You stood abruptly, sending your goblet toppling over and spilling its contents across the table. “Marriage was not a part of that sentence.” Which was ridiculous to begin with, you added to yourself. I mean, a life sentence for a pet name? It’s almost like he wanted me arrested.

Neuvillette sighed and flicked his wrist, causing the chalice to right itself and the water to refill. “Marriage is the highest form of dedication, no? Is that not what you pledged to?”

“I dedicated my life to the court,” you clarified.

“My dear, I am the court.”

You emitted a low hiss, turning to the door. “I’m leaving.”

Before you could take more than a step, Neuvillette moved towards you faster than a crack of lightning across the sea. His large frame straddled yours, pinning you against the sofa. He grabbed your dominant wrist, a foreign bubbling under your skin erecting the hairs on your arms. Your mind reached out for your hydro powers to defend yourself, only to be crushed with the realization that your vision had been confiscated at the court.

Despite your struggles, you could only watch in terror as a glowing silver-blue mark in the shape of a dragon burned across the length of your arm. The leviathan’s scaly body twisted in ringlets up your forearm and bicep, ending in a slender head with twin horns that crested your shoulder.

As soon as Neuvillette loosed his grip, you shoved him away, panting heavily. The mark had already disappeared, but you could still feel the ghost of it under your skin.“What have you done?” you whispered breathlessly.

In total contrast to your own contorted expression, Neuvillette appeared completely calm. He smoothed out his robes and adjusted his jabot. “I have lived for centuries, and I have many centuries more. I’ve merely gifted some of them to you.”

Your body began to shake, from fear, sadness, or rage you did not know. “I don’t want them.”

“You do remember that you promised to serve the court for eternity, don’t you? How do you expect to persist by my side otherwise?”

Eyes locked on the exit, you tried for a different tactic. “Take me to the Fortress of Meropide.”

Neuvillette’s expression darkened, his patience clearly thinning. “I will not.”

Your eyes shifted back to his. Although Neuvillette intimidated you beyond belief, you’d be damned if you didn’t go down without fighting for your life’s hard work. “I want to change my sentence.”

He glanced down at your arm. “It’s a bit too late for that, my dear.” Taking your hand in his, he pulled you to his chest. His form towered over you, capable of resting his chin on the top of your head. “Please, understand. I mean to keep you from harm, even if it means being your jailor.”

“You’re insane,” you hissed, futility attempting to pull away. “Let go of me!”

Neuvillette’s grip was relentless. You stilled when you felt claws ghost up your back in a silent warning. “That is one thing I will never do.”

The fight in you slowly ebbed away—for now. Your resistance was clearly moot, like a gnat trying to down a dragon. You’d have to play the long game to learn how to get under his skin—and how to rid your own of this new mark. “I will find a way out of this,” was all you could promise, refusing to meet his eyes.

A deep sigh sounded above you. Neuvillette took a step back, looking at you with such longing you thought you’d combust on the spot. With one last stroke of your cheek, he strode towards the office’s exit and unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist. Looking over his shoulder, he fixed you with a forlorn gaze. “By the time you realize your place here, there will be nothing for you to escape to. Only I will remain.” He once more turned his back to you and stepped out of the room.

You suddenly paled, realizing the implication of his words. If his declaration was true and you were to live as long as him, then your family, your career, the world as you know it would be completely gone. Your only company, your only solace, the only one who would remember your name, would be him. “Wait, no, you can’t—!”

He closed the doors.

~*~

Neuvillette was many things, but a liar was not one of them.

True to his word, you remained locked almost exclusively in the Palais Mermonia. On the rare occasions he let you outside, the Iudex served as your only company, diligently making sure you were hidden. Your vision was permanently taken, supposedly to prevent danger to yourself. It didn’t go unnoticed when he would wear it on his hip at important or potentially volatile trials. When you finally asked—or growled at him, really—why he kept it on his person, he had merely frowned and replied, “I originally thought the idea of a fake vision preposterous, I admit. I have no need for one. Yet having it feels as if you are constantly by my side.”

The draconic tattoo he had branded onto your arm not only extended your lifespan but also gave you a minuscule drop of his abilities—though only when you were in his presence (and most definitely not against him—you had tried). That allowed the two of you to transport to and breath in the depths of Fontaine whenever you begged to go out. In his mind, it was perfect—not only was the sea his realm, but no one and nothing could touch you. You were his alone to hold, to see, to have.

Those trips were torture for you. Free, but trapped; floating, but tied down to the man who was supposed to be the symbol of justice.

You, on the other hand, had tried a variety of (fruitless) tactics to convince the judge to free you. Any attempt at conversation or advance in his part was met with either vitriol or indifference on your part. You had once tried to charm him into letting his guard down, hoping you could sneak away while he was preoccupied at the court. This plan epically backfired on you when he mistook your subtle touches as permission to devour you with kisses and love bites, covering you in bruises from his sharp teeth for the next week. You wouldn’t so much as let him tap your shoulder for the next month after—the spark of silver in his eyes while he kissed you foretold of a deep, overwhelming desire that far surpassed simple kisses. You feared what might occur if the composed Chief Justice were given the opportunity to release his more primal urges.

And so, each day was passed much in the same:

1) Wake up on the floor or couch of his suite in the Palais—like hell you’d be sharing a bed with him. Oh, how he had tried in the beginning to usher you into bed, into his arms. It was childish, yes, but at least your refusal have you some semblance of autonomy.

2) Ponder on how you would greet Neuvillette that day.

3) Choose between fury or pretending he didn’t exist, typically the latter.

4) Look for a way to escape after he left for the Opera. Fail.

5) Spend most of the day scouring court cases in his office for clues to overturn your cause. Fail again.

6) Look out the window pitifully at the water beyond the Court of Fontaine (were the levels rising?). You often thought of your family back in Mondstadt; what were they told of your imprisonment, if anything? How long had you been stuck with the Chief Justice? The days blurred like ink in water.

7) Immediately exit the office towards his attached suite the moment he returned—any other room was preferable to his suffocating presence.

Today, though, he had chosen to interrupt your musings out the window before you could make your exit.

“You know, I find the beauty of the bright sunlight is best appreciated from the indoors through a window.”

Turning your head from the glass pane, your attention was brought to the figure standing in the doorway. He was wearing nothing but a simple pair of dark blue slacks and a white tunic, his robes hooked over his arm. At the start of your captivity you had mused how strange it was to see him without his normal ornamentation; now his comparatively plain appearance was a daily sight for you.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the window, relishing the heat from the coastal sun against your back. It was nothing like the dark pits he practically dragged you to now that you could breathe underwater. “Personally, I prefer to enjoy it with the company of a cool breeze by the shoreline.”

The Chief Justice loosed a deep sigh as he approached you. He extended his palm, caressing your cheek gently. “If you desire it so, I will rearrange some meetings and escort you—”

Below the waves, where he clung to you like a Lumitoile to a rock? “No need. Present company would ruin the experience. I prefer to be above water.”

Neuvillette had the audacity to wince at your retort. “So you instead choose to wallow in your self-inflicted solitude?”

You wanted to laugh at the hurt edge to his voice. Self-inflicted your ass—every moment of your life now centered on him, depended on his permission. Solitude was a disguise for any reprieve you could get from his constant attempts to court you.

The ironic part was that, if he had approached you normally, you could have seen yourself falling for him. He brought and cooked your favorite foods and beverages, showered you with gifts and books on photography, and tried his utmost to make you comfortable.

But you knew it was as nothing but glitter in a gilded cage. Neuvillette had drowned your whole world. So no, you wouldn’t act like any of this is normal.

Resisting the urge to bite his bare hand, you glared at your captor. “You could simply, oh, I don’t know, let me go.”

Neuvillette’s jaw tightened. His patience might run deeper than the Trench of Elton, but it was not everlasting. “We’ve discussed this.”

At that, you shrugged his hand off. “Can I at least speak with my family? My friends?”

A pained look flickered across Neuvillette’s face. “That isn’t possible.”

Your lip curled in response to his expression. “Don’t act like you actually care.”

Pursing his lips, he settled onto the window seat next to you. Though you were twitching with the urge to escape, he placed a large hand on your thigh, a gentle warning. “(Y/n), there’s something we must discuss.”

You narrowed your eyes, though your heart rate spiked. By now, he recognized your silence as a sign to continue.

“Do you wish to walk around the Court of Fontaine with me?”

Blinking, your throat dried. You swore you heard him wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Neuvillette squeezed your leg in what he thought was a comforting manner. His eyes—fuck, you had to admit they were wickedly beautiful, silver and sharp as a sword—never left your own. “You have been justified in your anger with me. I have restricted you for far too long. I would like to extend an olive branch, if you will—an agreement that we will both retain civility. I will grant you freedoms, but you must adhere to your sentence. Any deviation will not be tolerated.”

Your head was spinning, so you didn’t even consider the implications of his words. He was letting you out. “Can we go now?”

Neuvillette smiled softly. “Of course.” Standing, he offered you a hand. You tentatively took it, more awestruck than anything as he unlocked the doors to the outside. You’d finally get to see your family, your colleagues, the sun—!

Fontaine was unrecognizable.

The last time you seen the square of the Statue of the Seven, the roads were cobblestone. Now, strange machines roamed the paved streets, clearly serving as sentinels. None of the shops or restaurants were familiar—your favorite coffee shop, where you had so many chats with Carole, was now boasting signs for upscale fashion. A Melusine hopped by, wearing a Garde’s uniform, something that you remembered as being rare due to the increased chances of them being targeted. Your heart rate spiked in worry when the Melusine approached a group of children and their parents, only for a stunned expression to hit you when the creature was hugged by a little girl, her parents cooing in delight.

“Where…what?” you stammered. Fontaine had seemingly changed overnight—at least in your experience of time. Dread pooled in your stomach.

You attempted to pull your arm away from him, but his grip on you was steadfast. That same pained look from before marred his handsome features. “I did not lie when I said you have nothing to return to.” The Chief Justice sounded melancholic—he wished it hadn’t come to this, but he had to eliminate any prompts for you to leave.

“No, no.” Your heart dropped. “What… What year is it?”

The silence that followed was all you needed to know.

“How many years has it been, Neuvillette?” you repeated, your voice cracking with a desperate tone.

For once, Neuvillette avoided eye contact with you. He simply gestured towards a bulletin board, where the latest issue of The Steambird (at least one thing was consistent) was posted. You tore it from its pin, choking back a sob as you read the date.

Hands shaking, the issue fell to the ground. It landed in a puddle, its edges slowing soaking and blurring the ink. A steady rain had started to fall, quickly turning into a torrential downpour.

It had been over four hundred years since Neuvillette had taken you.

If it weren’t for Neuvillete’s hand on your hip, you would have crumpled to your knees. “H-how?”

Neuvillete looked to the skies solemnly. “Time passes differently for us long-lived species.” You cringed at his use of us, and how he actually sounded remorseful. “But this is our opportunity for a fresh start.”

Silent tears streamed down your face. For what could you do? Everyone and everything you knew was gone. Lost to the sea of time forever. You had nothing.

He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. “Cry not, my little pearl. No matter how many centuries pass, you will always have me.”

~*~

Neuvillette was many things.

And now, just as he dreamed since the moment he set his eyes on you, he was your everything.

And yet, you refused to drown.

As the years flowed like water through a stream, you began to learn the beat of Neuvillette’s dance. His emotions, his moods, his thoughts, all reflected themselves within the waltz of his life, and soon maneuvering around the steps became second nature to you. The balance of power laid within the count, and you were determined to be the one leading,

The dragon wanted to dance? So be it.

You’d give him the most challenging dance of his life.

#yandere #neuvillette #yandere neuvillette #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #fontaine #ao3 fanfic

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 8 months ago

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Between Fire and Stone

Daemon Targaryen/Strong!female

summary: anxious about her approaching union to Aemond, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen seeks comfort | word count: 2.8k~ | warnings: incest, reader is described with strong features, fingering, p in v sex, arranged marriage, Daemon being a cheeky cunt

A/N: idek what I was on to write this cos I'm not usually a Daemon girlie but here we are besties. Tysm @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-ing 😘 appreciate you

The cold mist nipped at the skin around her ankles, a shiver running up her spine as she struggled through the jagged rock towards the Dragonmont. Her fingers brushed against the stark stone for balance, the other holding the lit torch to light her way before her in the darkness.

It was one of her favourite things, taking a stroll through Dragonstone in the hour of the wolf. Peaceful. Quiet. Something she could have all for herself. Away from the prying of her maidservants and the overbearing boisterous nature of her brothers. Though Jace, now a man grown, still held onto those immaturities.

Yet another thing that set her apart from her siblings.

For she, only a mere year younger than Jace, was considered a woman, ripe for marriage and bearing children, whereas the same hastiness was not pressured upon him. She knew her mother had never intended to bestow such responsibilities on her, but she understood, it was inevitable. As that time loomed ever closer, she found herself roaming her home more often, as if to savour the feeling of once being a child.

Where her brothers could seek adventure with their dragons once they were big enough to saddle, her egg had not hatched in her cradle. She would not inherit the birthright of the blood of Old Valyria, yet another judgement cast upon her that only inflated her sense of belonging at her mother's side. With her moonlit hair and pale lilac eyes, each of her children could not have looked more different.

Before the incident, there existed only one other soul who could truly fathom the depths of her solitude. No dragon. Ceaseless taunts. The notion of isolation, even amongst one’s family. Any semblance of camaraderie had been extinguished the day Lucerys took his eye. That defining moment when Aemond—her uncle—seized his birthright had marked the fracture in their familial bonds. In the aftermath, her mother, alongside her new husband Daemon, orchestrated a grand scheme to mend the shattered relations, a plan that involved her betrothal to him at an opportune moment.

Try as she might, she couldn't conjure the image of herself as his wife. The thought of residing in King's Landing under his roof refused to coalesce into a coherent vision. It remained an elusive spectre, haunting her thoughts with its intangible uncertainty.

Whispers of tradition and duty echoed in the hallowed halls of her childhood, spun by the gentle tongues of Septas who spoke of the sacred rites of marriage. Tales of Lords and Ladies, of the solemn exchange of vows, and the anticipated consummation on the wedding night. Some stories painted a picture of pleasure and intimacy, of unions founded on mutual desire and affection. Others whispered of duty, of sacrifices made for the sake of one's spouse, regardless of personal inclination.

Caught in the web of uncertainty, she pondered which version of Aemond awaited her, a tender partner or a distant lord, bound by duty and tradition. The unknown loomed before her like a shadow, casting doubt upon her heart and stirring a quiet fear within her soul. She knew not what to expect, but the uncertainty itself was enough to unsettle her, to sow the seeds of apprehension in her mind. And as the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, she couldn't help but wonder, which path would her marriage tread, and would she have the strength to endure whatever lay ahead?

Amidst the towering peaks of Dragonmont, she sought solace in the embrace of ancient flames and the soothing hum of Vermithor's slumber. Here, amidst the rugged terrain and the ever-watchful gaze of the dragons, she found a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was not the Bronze Fury that sang to her.

“Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis,

Se gēlȳn irūdaks…

Ānogrose.”

She felt the rush of heat at the nape of her neck. Daemon stood straight, back facing her, his voice near-matching the hum of Vermithor’s deep exhales.

“It is late, Princess.” Unlike her, Daemon remained as he dressed during the day, shown when he turned to face her, with the self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “What troubles you?” he asked.

She tried to raise her chin, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil that stirred within.

“My fate,” she said, her careful steps drawing ever nearer. "I am to be wed to Aemond, but I fear what awaits me in that union.”

Daemon hummed, as if curiously amused.

She had known no father figure since Laenor. And though she knew sooner than her brothers the truth that lay beneath the careful picture her mother had forged, since she had been wed to Daemon, he had taken practice with his own daughters and become almost a father to her alike.

She felt his eyes sink over her once before returning to her eyes.

"Marriage is a weighty matter," he said. "But is it the marriage itself that troubles you, or something more?”

She did not miss the lilt to his voice. The one, that like his eyes had done many times before, made something squeeze in her gut. A fire burning bright. A feeling that brought her shame.

He was her mother's husband.

“I cannot say exactly,” she confessed. “Perhaps it is leaving Dragonstone. Mother and my brothers. And being alone in the capital with no face I recognise with trust.”

Daemon nodded almost indistinctly, his fingers reaching out to brush a lock of hair back over her shoulder, admiring her hair loose of its usual braids. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both familiar and disconcerting. She fought to push aside the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, the warmth of his touch conflicting with the knowledge of their complicated relationship.

"Leaving behind the familiar can indeed be a daunting prospect," Daemon acknowledged, his voice a velvet caress, “But fret not. Within you resides the same fire that fuels your mother's resolve. Embrace it. You are as much Targaryen as any of them.”

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, at the way he seemed to see straight through her defences. She knew she should be wary of his advances, of the way he danced on the edge of propriety with his words and his touch. But there was something undeniably alluring about the way he held her gaze, about the way he made her feel desired and understood.

"Thank you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your support means more to me than you know.”

Daemon's smile was a slow, seductive curve of his lips, his eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the flames of the Dragonmont.

"Ah, but my dear Princess," he replied, his voice low and husky, "you have yet to discover the true depths of my support.”

She felt her throat close up, the feeling mirroring somewhat what happened between her thighs.

What could he possibly mean?

“Do you fear it?” he asked. “The act of consummation?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson at Daemon's bold question, his words sending a jolt of both arousal and apprehension coursing through her veins.

“It… is perfectly normal, I would think,” she answered, words failing her.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice a soothing caress against her skin. "There is no shame in feeling uncertain. It is only natural to have doubts, especially when faced with such intimate matters.”

She felt he was circling her, as dragons did their targets. And felt her heart thumping in her chest.

“With Aegon, I dare say, I would join you in your uncertainty. But Aemond, on the other hand… is a different matter entirely.”

“How so?” she asked, breathing out when he disappeared out of her line of sight, his presence at her back, fingers draping past the material of her dress.

“I am afraid he may be less… forthcoming with expressing his desires,” he purred. “He may be cold, or at least that is how it may be interpreted.” Her eyes met his with bated breath as he appeared on her opposite side, closer. “He may not be so adept with the pleasures of a female body.”

She swallowed, a chill settling on her front, her body reacting thus. He remained silent, as if daring her to say what he knew was already on the tip of her tongue. So, she took the plunge. “And…you are?”

Daemon smirked smugly, and she knew she already had her answer., “What do you think?”

Her heart raced. Her mind struggled to contemplate whether she should be honest or not, for she had heard stories and rumours. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, playing with fire in the form of her mother's husband, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist the allure of his confidence, his charm, his undeniable magnetism.

"I... I suppose I never considered such matters," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the admission.

Daemon's eyes danced with amusement as he stepped closer. "Perhaps it is time you did," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly down the curve of her spine.

Her skin vibrated with anticipation as she fought to maintain her composure in the face of his overwhelming presence. She knew she should pull away, should put an end to this dangerous game they were playing, but the lure of Daemon's charm was too strong to resist.

“Mayhaps I could demonstrate and put your worries to rest,” he suggested, crossing the imaginary but daring line seemingly without fear. “Rest assured, my experience in such matters is... extensive."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her resolve, her body betraying her with every flutter of her lashes, every quickened breath. “But… you and Mother—”

Her lips clamped shut with the bruising of his grip in the softness of her waist, urging her back to the rocky, hard wall. Only now, when faced with the Rogue Prince, did she realise just how small she truly felt.

“Your mother is preoccupied with her own affairs," he replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous allure. "She won't concern herself with our little... indiscretion.”

The realisation sank in that she was alone with Daemon in the secluded confines of the Dragonmont, far removed from the prying eyes of the world. And yet, she still felt her lips go dry when he hung the torch and trailed his touch upon her skin where he was taking her skirts with it.

She could not hide her nerves, or the beating rush of arousal, “Bu—but… with Aemond, I must—”

The air felt warm as her skirt was rucked around her hips. She squeaked when his calloused fingers swept through her folds, ashamed to find she was affected by what he was doing to her as her slick coated them easily.

Daemon chuckled, a pleased hum in his chest that she was wet and ready, while his other hand busied with the laces of his breeches, “Sweet girl. When my dear nephew has his cock buried inside you on your wedding night, he will not know the difference.”

His words, combined with the tight circles he applied to the forbidden bud tucked between her legs, had white hot pleasure burning in her veins. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. All she could do was look upon his pleased face with a hedonistic expression, feeling very much like they were doing something deliciously wrong but could find no reasonable excuse to cease.

“Do not look so surprised. I have seen the way you watch me. Are you not ashamed for looking upon your own mother’s husband with lust?”

The more he touched her, the more arousal he coaxed forth, the sound lewd and forbidden in the raw silence of the Draognmont. She could not answer his question without subjecting herself to further embarrassment. Even so, attempting to concentrate enough to form words as his two forefingers slid within her tight, hot walls, was near impossible. She gasped quietly, the feeling so foreign and yet not unpleasant. And like Daemon in any other scenario, while his motions were forceful, somewhat brutal, they were calculated, without effort. Like it came innately. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, his digits buried deep inside curved towards him, stoking a fire at the hearth of her.

“Answer me.”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—I am ashamed—”

It was all she managed before the feeling began to crest, building and building as if she were climbing some great height and was about to tumble off. But she only exhaled shakily as Daemon withdrew his fingers from her fluttering, sensitive walls, using the moisture to lubricate himself with a careful caress of his manhood.

He chuckled at the wounded expression on her face. “No need for shame, Princess.”

She caught the glint of his ring as he wrung the fabric of her skirts in his fist. Her eyes widened as the head of his cock disappeared easily between her swollen folds, with no real full feeling until he pushed forward, both with hesitation and a sort of evil excitement.

Her back pressed against the jagged stone, her lips only parted to suck in air where it had left her lungs. It was a feeling she could describe very little, the sting of being stretched around him painful and yet once sheathed fully inside her, hips pushing against her own. Daemon wrapped his fingers around her fleshy thigh to tug her leg over his hip, a flash of white hot pleasure creeping up her spine. He only grunted, her slick ridges gripping him greedily without any effort on her part.

For a few moments, he stayed like that as if waiting for any complaint, but when he found none, began a steady rhythm, fingers creating crescent-moon shaped welts in her skin. He did not share in her reaction. He simply raised one corner of his lips in a pleased manner, watching her face, treating it very much as a lesson in pleasure more than anything else.

She could scarcely think with the violent push of his hips, the notch of his belt stabbing into her each time.

“My nephew does not deserve this perfect. little cunt.” He grunted from the effort. “Tell me, Princess—when he is fucking you with his narrow little prick, will you be thinking of this instead?”

Her eyes slipped shut, her head tipped back and fingers coming to her own mouth to muffle the lewd sound that threatened to come out. Her perceived embarrassment at her own enjoyment of this only seemed to motivate Daemon further, and he widened her hips with a soft nudge of his knee against her leg and groaned at the way she tightened around him.

“You liked that, didn't you?” He breathed against her face, looking briefly down between them to watch how he rooted himself inside her over and over, as if unable to believe this was really happening. “I bet he won't make you this wet. I doubt the little cunt will even know how to make you come.”

Her skirt fell from his hand as it drew down between them, and she resisted the urge to squeal when he began to apply pressure in tight, sure circles around her bud.

“You shall have to teach him those pleasures.”

Her fingers gripped his forearms tight as she climaxed, her tight, hot walls spasming around him uncontrollably. It was so utterly different to the way she had pleasured herself before. This time, the forbidden combination of Daemon stretching her open around him and the pleasure he coaxed from her with his fingers meant that this peak seemed to drain her entire body of energy. Her body feeling boneless in his hold, that if he let go, she would surely lose her balance.

A flash of fear cracked like lightning across her subconscious. Surely he did not intend to spill inside her?

He did not overstimulate her for much longer as he neared his own end. Rather, he savoured the feeling of her warmth sucking him in for just a few moments more before pulling out, stroking himself vigorously to completion, warm ropes of his spend coating her lower stomach.

In the quiet dead of night with only her laboured breathing to echo within it, she felt her eyes could not keep up with her mind as she glanced back up at him. His rapidly cooling seed began to dribble towards her thighs, swiftly covered by her skirts once more as Daemon lowered her clothing back into place. The reality of the dangerous and yet delicious sin she had committed with him began to rise into clarity.

Upon his fingers shone the damning proof of his sordid claim on her, pearly in the glow of torchlight. “What a waste. I’d have liked to see it dripping from you.

But that pleasure… I shall save for my nephew, sweet girl."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

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divinesolas · 4 months ago

Text

For the night

summary: on the hunt for houses to declare for aegon the greens stumble upon house vance and its new lady of the house, gwayne seems particularly taken with her.

gwayne hightower x vance!reader

w.c: 3k

c.w: cole is an asshole, assault on reader (not gwayne), fluff, p in v, oral (fem), fingering (fem), not proofread

a.n: not my usual content but gwayne hightower you have charmed me

he was so sick of being out on the road. the mud, the dirt, the grass, the blood, everything he was sick of it all. and of course he was stuck traveling around with criston cole and the stick that seemed to be so far wedged up his ass it should be coming right out of his mouth.

it was another day of watching men bend the knees in his armor that made his skin feeling sticky with sweat and dirt and blood on his face, his hair a mess he is going to kill someone if he has to live another day like this. yet today something in particular catches his eye, the women who typically stood off to the side while the men bend the knee never normally interest him, but a particular women catch his attention instantly. staring off to the side without a care in the world as the early fall breeze hit your face.

a woman like her is far too beautiful to be standing out in this rutty old field next to these old crinkly men she deserved to be living in paintings or in a statue carved from the purest stone. He could not take his eyes off you, you must have been able to feel his eyes on you as you crane your head and lock eyes with him. your expression does not change but you do drop your head and cup your hands together in front of you when his gaze does not stray. a smile tugs at his lips he cannot fight for the first time in days.

once it is all said and done he gets stuck in a conversation with some random knight that he is less than happy to be talking to he finally manages to worm his way out of the conversation and looks around the field for you. his face twitches slighty when he sees you talking with criston cole and hastily rushes over.

Your conversation becomes clearer and clearer the closer he gets. “as i have told you before ser cole i am unmarried.” “i find that hard to believe you are the daughter of lord vance.” you merely shrug at him, “i do not know what you wish me to say, prior to your arrival i had been the youngest of six, i had four other sister ahead of me who married.my father saw no reason to marry me off. he had a son who married a nice lady and now they have all slit their throats in the castle halls, i never expected to be in charge or be married.” He had seen the incident first hand, when criston burst open the doors of the castle he did not expect to step in a pool of blood and fresh corpses laying on the ground of the majority of house vance excluding you and your father who was just beheaded for not bending the knee.

when you notice gwanye walk over your eyes trail to him for a moment which causes cole to look at gwayne before you turn away from him. “now is certainly not the time to be flirting with ladies cole” cole sighs and he turns to gwayne with his arms crossed, “as everyone else in her line is dead and she has no other living relatives she is the new lady of the house. i thought women of your, respectable age, would atleast have a suitor or two” gwayne rolls his eyes, he cannot believe cole and his disrespectfulness, if his suspensions were correct he had no clue what his sister saw in him. does he not realize he is speaking to one of the more gorgeous women in the realm?

“and i thought you white cloaks were swore to purity. it seems we are both wrong.” he watches a switch flip in coles eyes and before he can say anything cole has you by the neck and you attempt to take some gasps of air. “cole! release her!” many eyes had turned in their direction as you beat your hand on his forearm but no one dared move. gwanye finds himself pulling out his sword but doesn’t point it at cole just yet but his hand is itching to strike him down.

“you have no clue what you speak of.” cristons spits at you with venom but continue attempting to takes gasps of air. “criston that is enough!” your face contorts in confusion as you continue to try and pull yourself from his grip. “i meant was some of your men were seen in a brothel a town over last night.” Criston keeps you in his hands for awhile longer before he lets you go and takes a step back. you grasp at your neck as you take many deep breaths, gwayne puts his sword back and grabs his water skin and hands it to you. He watches as you eagerly drink the sack dry before turning to criston, “do you have no decency? strangling an innocent woman?”

cole says nothing but gwayne can tell he’s embarassed about the display and all the eyes on him. criston steps towards you and you step back into gwaynes chest to which he happily keeps you against him as cole speaks hushedly. “you will tell me the names of these men.” you look around at the white cloaks and point to a group of four of them standing around and chatting pretending like you cant feel gwaynes fingers rubbing circles around your hips. “how would i know you are telling the truth?” “my brother was a frequent customer of that particular brothel, i had gone to go pick him up and i walked in to see them, sharing a particular women in the center of the room with their cocks about but still wearing their armor.”

as much as he hates to admit it cole finds himself believing you, “we will discuss this after i am done speaking with them. then we must head out.” gwayne would rather die than go back on the road now especially with you in his hands. “cole, can we not take one night to rest? look at the men and tell me they are not exhausted? think of the morale cole.” he does not care about the teams morale but criston doesn’t need to know that, yet when he looks around it is rather obvious the team is suffering. mens feet dragging about the ground and faces devoid of life. criston turns to gwayne who simply raises his eyebrows at him, criston turns to you, “your lands shall host our men for tonight. but just tonight we leave first daylight.” gwayne grins at cristons pointed addition and feels you nod your head. “we have a couple beds though not many-” “we have tents to sleep outside.” “i will be more than happy to take a bed if he will not my lady.”

criston walks off leaving the two of you standing together when you remove yourself from him and turn to face him. “i am not a whore ser hightower.” he flinches slightly in surprise and manages to shake himself out of shock with a laugh. “i never thought you were my lady.” “your eyes and hands certainly say different ser.” He had been a little forward had he? so he bow his head to you.

“apologies my lady, let me try this again. I am gwayne hightower, pleasure to meet you.” he grabs your hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss against the back of your hand. you hum and pull your hand away from him much to his annoyance. “likewise i suppose though i wish it was under better circumstances.” he watches as your eyes drift to the large pile of bodies that had built up, hes sure your family lies within the pile, “i would like to give you my condolences.” you snort and shake your head. “im sure you would.” he wishes he could get a read on you but you keep your walls kept up tight.

he wants to rip them down and expose you to him fully. hes never been so taken with a woman and especially with such quickness, maybe it was a fleeting lust but he was so fascinated by you he cant help but want to keep talking with you, watch your every move. yet you do not give him the chance as you begin to step away from him, “one of my men will show you and your men to your room. Good day ser hightower.”

you turn your back to him and begin to walk away. he almost wants to follow after you, to chase you down and continue to talk to you but the way you turn your head back at him to give him one final look is enough to have him knowing itll be worth the chase a smirk is unable to leave his face as he steps away and turns is back to go find cole who happens to be screaming at the men you pointed at. He’ll look for you later he’s sure of it and he’s more than sure he’ll find you.

the sun had been long set and the night cold when he sees you again. its not hard to find your room, which had been moved to the main chambers only hours after your fathers death. he finally feels refreshed after a long bath and finally out of his armor or camp clothes, being given some soft nigh clothes by the maids. he should just want to lay in bed and sleep, maybe even travel with some of the other men to the brothel nearby but he doesn’t much to the surprise of his men. He instead finds himself walking through the empty halls of the castle until he stands in front of the doors of what appears to be your chambers

He knocks before he even can think about his actions and the door cracks open after a few moments of silence. Your head pops out and your eyes narrow at him, “do you need something?” “merely wish for some company, someone to chat with.” your brow raises and he can tell you do not believe a word he says. “just to chat?” a small laugh escapes him and he smiles, “well if you are offering more who i am to deny?” you roll your eyes and the door cranes open some more but you don’t let him in, standing in the doorway you lean against the wall. “my maidenhead remains in tact ser.” he throbs, you were a minx put on this plane for testing his strength. “don’t make the offer more tempting my lady, i am a merely a gentleman.”

he takes the opportunity to get a full look at you, changed out of your day clothes and dawned in a silk nightgown in a light green, the straps are thin leaving your shoulders and collarbones bare as well as your sleeves but what it lacks up top it is long enough to hit almost your feet. Your arms crossed under your chest where almost salivates at the sight. He can see your nipples poking through the almost sheer fabric of your dress. You are so much better than any sight at any brothel and more beautiful than any eligible lady in all the seven kingdoms.

“you done looking at me yet?” his eyes shoot back up to you while he grins, “never my lady.” he watches you face flash and you stand up straight. “as fun as this back and forth is ser hightower unless you are looking to marry me i must ask you to leave.” you bow your head and go to clothes your door but his foot in the way stops you. “ser,” “what if i was interested in marrying you?” you push the door open and stare at him blankly. “do not jest ser hightower.” “gwayne please and no i do not jest.” he has never been interested in marrying much, his sister had married the fucking king and had plenty children his father cared not for if he was married or not. Gwayne enjoyed the life he lived, traveling from brothel to brothel without a care in the world but you had been the first eligible lady hes ever met that even remotely interested him.

it would not be so bad to marry, this war has shown him that everything peaceful lasted forever and maybe it would be good to settle down somewhere, with someone. he watches you watch him thoughtfully, your eyes unreadable as you watch him for any signs of deceit and lies. When he makes no moves you take a couple steps back, the doorway to your room now wide open for him to step into. “If you step past the doorway you will have to marry me ser gwayne, are you really willing to give everything up for one lay?”

you stare at him with a challenge in your eyes. you think he’ll walk away and you’ll never see him again, he’ll be nothing more than a fleeting memory of a handsome man that wanted your attention for a day and you’ll settle for whatever carefully chosen lord the greens pick for you to keep you in line and you’ll live the rest of your life plainly.

The door shuts with a quiet thud and you turn around to take a sip out of your wine glass as silence fills the room you stand in.

a hand suddenly plays with one of the thin straps of your dress and pushes it down your shoulder, the right side of your dress falls down exposing the right side of your chest as his lips dance around your shoulder and neck. you lean your head back against his chest as his hands knead at your sides. He begins sucking at the part where your neck and shoulder meet while your left strap falls exposing your chest fully but his stands stop it from fully hitting the floor.

He suddenly spins your around as you take another sip from your wine, and he shoves his lips against yours, drinking the wine from your lips and some dribbles out of your mouth. when he removes his lips they trail down and lick up all the wine that had slipped out, his hands leave your waist and your dress hits the floor softly leaving you bare in front of him.

his head spins as he stares at you you sit on the table with your legs parted. “live up to your standards?” he shakes his head as he drops to his knees, “your beauty surpasses that of the maiden herself.” He rubs his hands on your thighs as you let out a shaky breath staring at his ginger hair. he presses light kisses on your inner thighs growing closer to where your dripping for him.

he licks softly at your folds first before his tongue pushes past them and greedily lapping at your core. his hands grab at your hips to pull you closer to him as you rut your hips again his face. When he groans against your core shedding shivers up your spine your throw your head back is your hand tugs at his hair softly.

you bite your lips to silence yourself in the hopes no one hears you but when he pulls away and bites your thigh you can’t but let out a whine. “let me hear you.” you shake your head as he pushes two fingers inside of you, “what if someone hears?” “let them hear us i dont care.”

Your grip on his hair grows tighter as you feel his lips wrap around your clit and his fingers begin to push in and out of you at a steady pace. you hunch over as you grow closer and closer, he revels in the way you’ve stopped holding yourself back and lets your sounds flood his ears. he can tell you’re close with the way your grip on his hair tightens even more and the way your thighs clench so snuggly around his head.

“gwayne.” he pulls away just enough to speak to you, “its okay let go.” he licks up every drop you spend out while his fingers help guide you through your peak. he stands back up and smiles at you with his bruised glossy lips. “do you want me to do the same?” he licks his lips and shakes his head, “not today beautiful as tempting as that is.” he presses his lips against yours as his hands work as his trousers to free himself. your hands join his and make quick works to free himself from his clothes leaving him bare. he picks you up and you giggle as he smiles against your lips and drops you onto the bed.

you grip his shoulders tightly as he begins to thrust into you. mumbling words of encouragement in your ear you hiss as he enters you more and more until he’s fully inside of you. he tries his best to restrain himself knowing you need time to adjust, he feels the way your walls clench around him and the way your eyes shut tightly he cant help but groan at the sensation of it all. fuck whores and fuck brothels he thought, nothing would truly get better than this. and when he starts to thrust and the way you sing to him is better than any wine.

he helps your legs wrap around him as his thrust grow more and more aggressive, as he watches your tits bounce he cant help but lean down and wrap his mouth around your nipple as he cries out. one of his had been on your thigh moves to rub your clit and only when you release around him does he allow himself to spend his seed inside you.

when you fall asleep on his chest as he traces shape in your skin a playful smile falls on his lips as he thinks about how furious cole will be, the man had been planning to marry you off to some old man who would agree to anything they said and now cole is going to be stuck dealing with him. yet he doesn’t care because as long as he can have you it doesn’t matter.

#gwayne #house of the dragon #gwayne x reader #gwayne x you #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x you #hotd imagine #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader

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boop-le-snoot · 1 month ago

Text

kinktober #3

Strangelove

kinktober day three | restraints, bratting (if you squint, he's very polite) | cw: 18+, sub!Gil, service dom!gender neutral! Reader, inappropriate use of Elvish rope, mouthy princess gil, oral sex (m receiving), safe sane and consensual | word count 4,1k | author's note under the cut | click here for the full kinktober list |

“Now,” a majestic voice rolls over the room like thunder.

You cannot see its owner for that he is hidden behind several of his advisors but your mind paints a picture familiar and amusing.

Face scrunched in petulance, crown slightly askew, the High King bends down to bring his face closer to the dignitary. “I have spoken all there is to say on the matter. Do not make me repeat myself!” He straightens promptly, dark eyes flashing in flickering golden light, and addresses the expectant crowd. “I have exceeded my quota of patience for today! Take your leave! Ego!” The command comes off as harsh even for the King when he is in one of his moods, so he hurries to soften the blow. “We shall continue on the morrow.”

Golden robes billowing out behind him, High King Erenion Gil-Galad takes his leave without sparing a second glance towards the disappointed Elves. Some nod in understanding, knowing just how heavy-handed some of the advisories can get when vying for the King's favour. Some frown and rush off towards the main exit, muttering displeasures to themselves. You linger, letting the crowd disperse into smaller groups, and nimbly make your way towards the side exit, unnoticed amongst various discussions and arguments.

The narrow hallway greets you with a silence and a chill, this year's autumn exceptionally windswept and grey. Erenion's abandoned outer robe stands out like a sore thumb: carelessly thrown over a toreutic statue, it glistens with what little sunshine pierces through low-hanging clouds pregnant with rain and fog. You pick up the garment and fold it at the waist before throwing it over your shoulder, adjusting the pile of notes to your chest. Well-worn soles of your shoes make no noise as you near the King's private study.

The door stands open, no more than a hand's width, and most of your field of view inside the room is occupied by the broad back of your King. It is tense, hard at the nape and taut at the seams of his shirt. Often, you have privately wondered of the possible incident that may finally cause him to burst out of his clothing - once or twice, you were sure Lady Galadriel had come very close to causing Erenion to simply spontaneously combust.

Such he stood with his back turned to you. Pent up, hard-boiled and simply done. A mostly empty carafe of wine at his left hand, a drained glass in the right.

“More wine,” he said the moment you announced yourself with a light step and a creak of the door.

“Yes, my Lord,” you replied evenly, racking your brain for the probable location of the nearest servant. Erenion Gil-Galad was a fair king and a kind ellon but that did not stop all servants from clearing his path when he got into a particularly sullen mood. A sulking King was no good company to anybody.

You trotted over to the nearest chair to place his outer robes onto. He turned swiftly. You needn't raise your eyes to see him struggle to swallow whatever bitter remark had been curling on his tongue; even so hotly angered, stupid he was not. Erenion knew better than to bestow unjust abuse towards his most dutiful and loyal attendant.

He spoke your name and you nodded in acknowledgement before smoothing out his robes and placing your stack of parchment on a nearby table. Not engaging in chit-chat but simply offering a quiet, steady, ataractic presence to the disgruntled King. Soft swishing of the parchment as you rearranged it invited a soothing ubiquity into the cool room. You felt, not saw, your King's shoulders drop. The clink of an empty glass being put down followed suit.

“These noxious vultures!..” Came the predicted grumble. Erenion's footsteps, unusually heavy and resounding for an Elf, traced a path from that corner of the room towards his desk. “Arguing for the sake of it...” Some of the more passionate choice words got lost in the pull of drawers being opened and paper bags' crinkling.

You hid a secretive smile. The Royal Snack Shelf, having been restocked by yours truly, was doing splendid at its job. A whimsical, silly detail even, but nevertheless quintessential at easing the burden of your King's day-to-day routine. A mentor in your past had given you valuable lessons on sweetening the bitterness of all that is tedious and mundane and you had taken them all to heart.

Periodically interrupted by crunching, the King's mouth ejected a day's worth of vitriol into the world, onto you and onto nobody at large, as he paced the long, spacious office like a caged lion. With every sentence he seemed to deflate a little and you counted every tiny victory as you mindlessly sorted and re-aligned your pages. The ranting was a canonical event and you did not interfere.

“... Grach! What secret information do your scrolls contain that is more important than listening to your King?!” Erenion's exclamation was not loud, but his deep and rich voice made it sound petulant and harsh.

Ah. One of those nights.

You straightened your back, taking your sweet time to readjust the muscles of your spine that were beginning to cramp from your hunched position and rapidly evened the stack that had previously preoccupied all of your attention. The bottom of it connected with the table with a sharp, resound tap, and Erenion immediately froze in his tracks.

You turned around slowly, body coiled in perfect precision, a masterful image of picture-perfect regard. Wide-eyed, Erenion frowned, dark brows creasing over the bridge of his nose. Your voice was even when you spoke.

“I am your dutiful servant, my King.” Bowing at the neck and not at the back, you crossed your hands behind yourself, looking him directly in the eye. “It is my job to thoroughly inspect all that concerns you and see to your comforts, which includes your spiritual well-being. At the present moment, it is imperative I allow you to vent your frustration without risk of scrutiny and judgment.”

Erenion, ever the imperfect perfectionist, scoffed. A knee-jerk reaction you harboured no ill will towards, for that you knew it would serve to be so much more rewarding when he finally decided to yield. As the King's brow darkened further with peevishness, his body language spoke of unmistakable interest. A creature of greatness and great contrasts was your King, most exhilarating. Bittersweet, like sour cherry wine.

“You think you know me better than myself?”

You pretended to think about it. “In certain areas, yes.” Jerking your shoulder a little, you took small, short steps towards him, observing him for any changes. Although his face was now contorted in a kingly version of a pout, his chest remained open and shoulders lax.

Looking down on you, Erenion seemed almond amused. “And what is it that you think I presently require?”

“Temperance,” you crooned. The air between your bodies thickened. With your eyes, you traced the fluid lines of his arms covered by his form-fitting undershirt. The hills of his biceps tapered down to wide forearms and sturdy wrists; towards broad palms, adorned with multiple rings but calloused from practice of warcraft. Erenion Gil-Galad was a beautiful King, all smooth lines and luxuriance from the regal curl of his plush mouth down to his shaking fingertips. “You need a lesson in temperance, my King.”

“Is that so?” He inquired lowly. Amusement, intrigue and apprehension all mixed up in his voice, colouring it with hoarseness usually reserved for lovers of a capricious occasion. Erenion was not known for those, but then again, it was unbecoming of a Noldorin High King to voluntarily overturn control of his persona to an assistant, even if it was temporary.

But you were just so good at what you did. How could he not surrender? With a gentle touch and a sharp word, you beheld the King within your eye as if nothing else outside it existed at all. The usually reserved personal aide, you became anything he needed you to be behind closed doors, be it a punching bag filled with sharp nails that cut him right back at every snap or a firm palm, offering rich handfuls of well-earned praise.

There was no diplomatic school advanced enough to lecture anyone on how to handle a King, so you could say that it came naturally. And proof was in the (re)actions: the willingness of Him to acquiesce, the intensity with which you handled him and just how far you were willing to go.

Erenion Gil-Galad stepped back. Again, and then again, until he landed noisily in the nearest chair, his broad, tall body sagging into the comfort of soft upholstery. Like this, you were just about eye-level with each other, and you beheld him with genuine sympathy and utter devotion. He stared back, eyes wide, deep irises seamlessly blending into dark pupils.

A cursory sweep around the room while he was contemplating your expression revealed an unexpected treasure: a thick roll of elvish rope laid on a nearby chair, likely accidentally left behind by a commander rushing in to receive or confirm orders. You smiled and looked away, least your plans be ruined by Erenion's inherent reaction to do the opposite of what people wanted him to do.

Carefully, you raised your hands to rid him of the crown. It always had to go first - dutiful servant as you were, it was most cumbersome to be reminded of his higher status when doing something scandalous with the King's body. Not that the situation lacked appeal, as a concept, but the crown had a weight attached to it. You were set on freeing the King of his burdens, after all.

Erenion's eyelashes fluttered as you gently carded your fingers through long, thick chocolate hair. Tugging lightly at the roots and brushing over the shortened warrior's edges at his temples. Tracing his strong jawline to brush a teasing thumb over his lips just to withdraw before he licked it like a playful kitten. You caressed the sensitive leaf shape of his ear and were immediately rewarded with a pleased rumble coming from the depts of his chest. For now, Erenion was much content to sit back in his chair and hold the outside of his palm against your leg, but it would not last.

Not when your fingers made swift work of the laces on his shirt and freed him from it. As the fabric landed on a nearby ottoman, his large palms settled over your hips, possessively kneading the meat there.

“Impatient,” you chided with a gentle shake of your head, eliciting a displeased grumble from the King, followed up by his fingertips digging deeper into you, clinging to your bones. A tap on his nose caused his eyes to shoot open. Your smile only grew. “Impertinent.”

Opening his mouth, Erenion's eyes shot to his crown abandoned nearby and back at your face. He pursed his lips, and, in lieu of a response, leaned in to rub his cheek over your clothed chest. You stood still, letting him find his comfort, but did little else. Until the very moment Erenion withdrew, his famous kingly pout back on full display.

“Melmë.”

“Erenion.” You echoed, matching his tone. “Are we in a rush?”

“Yes!” He grumbled. Looked at the window, where the clouds had obscured stars and the moon, blanketing Lindon within an impenetrable darkness. Several candles illuminated the room and that was it: not a single torch was lit outside the window. Erenion sighed. “Well, no, alas...”

“We are not in a rush.” You placed your palms atop his own, squeezing them once: a wordless command to release you. He did so and you stroked his face, his eyes, which he closed. Placing a kiss on his forehead, you swiftly grabbed the rope and returned with it, unfurling the roll as Erenion grew visibly more restless from the lack of touch. He dared open his eyes and immediately gasped, aghast. “Temperance,” you reminded him.

“No!” He protested, but made no move to get up or otherwise interrupt your planned activity.

You were sure many would call you mad for enjoying this exact moment of your games: the feigned resistance. Erenion would gripe and groan and complain and inevitably ruin his trousers in the process and there was no sweeter reward for your troubles that could be. The more he objected, the higher he riled himself up. That final leap over the edge beckoned you both in the distance. Erenion fell apart beautifully and...

A sigh. “Yes,” you stressed, wrapping the rope around his chest and the back of the chair before weaving it swiftly and delicately over his forearms, effectively securing them to the armrests. The length of the rope allowed for a safe amount of movement and several pretty knots.

It should withstand a good deal of resistance; Erenion's awareness of his own size and strength and their comparison to yours put an upper limit on just how physical these games would get. Ever cognisant, Erenion would flat out refuse even the possibility of causing you pain with his body so certain workarounds had to implemented. And even then, you found yourself wistful, wishing nothing more than for your King to lose himself to simple, mindless pleasures.

When was Erenion Gil-Galad ever simple? Effectively prevented from seeking out touch, he sat poised and regal, chin pointed in defiance, as he watched you shed your outer robes and and miscellaneous clothing. His eyes roved over you hungrily, yearning, as you stood before him in nothing but your underthings. Veins of his hands thick with rushing blood, what little was south of his trousers anyway: obscured by his breeches, the outlined of his hard cock stood as tall and proud as him.

You sat astride it, reveling in the hiss that came from his lips as you pressed your weight atop it and stayed still. The line of his jaw was fascinating to explore: you enlisted your lips, your fingers to do so.

As you'd predicted, his patience was... Not there.

“Well?”

“Hm?” You rumbled at the root of his ear, hot breath ghosting over the lobe.

“What now?” Centuries at Court kept his voice steady; his body was the biggest traitor. Blood rushed, a siren's song to you, enticing to switch your attentions to the other side of his face. Tenderly and thoroughly, you lavished it with attention, attacking Erenion's erogenous zones with tempered precision. You were in no rush to reply. He could not wait to feel. “I am sat in my office, indisposed and restrained, for the sake of your amusement?” He spat.

“No,” you murmured. And immediately corrected yourself because lying to your king is wrong. “Well, yes. But you are restrained for your own sake, as well. Good things come to those who know how to wait.” You preached, finishing off with a quick bite at the ball of his shoulder. Your hands slid lower, palming his thick pectorals, flicking his nipples.

There wasn't much to do but feel and bestow sensation and Erenion knew that. And enjoyed it so, his length twitching against your leg as you alternated between hard and soft, fast and slow, biting and kissing. Periodically, you withdrew enough to observe the changes on his face: how it grew from annoyed to flat to quivering. He panted softly through parted lips, groaning upon coming in contact with your own sex.

The buck of his hips straightened you up atop his lap. “You are much too impatient, darling,” you whispered against his lips. “Rushing to start one thing before the last has even ended,” withdrawing from his cock, you kissed him gently, pulling away as soon as he leaned in to envelop your tongue with his hot mouth. A whine slipped out instead and you smiled, brushing your closed mouth over his, moist and spit-slick.

“Multitasking is a necessary skill!” He objected, the ‘for a King’ hanging heavy and unsaid.

In lieu of a response, you ran your hands through his crown-free hair and gathered it in a loose ponytail, arching his head back. He moaned, low and long, and you rewarded him with a kiss to his lips. He did not misbehave this time as you mouthed at each other, losing time and space where your lips connected. You heard the creaking of wood, felt the bulge of Erenion's muscles as his body released all of its pent up tension.

Slowly, you lowered yourself back down to sit over his cock. Swallowing his moan and a noise of your own, you felt sparks fly as a sloppy movement brushed over where you were most sensitive. It was a sobering action. There was very little time for pleasure while you were doing your job, or, rather, the pleasure came from granting your King such. Boldly, your tongue snuck into his mouth to coax out his own so you could suck on it with conviction.

Erenion moaned, back arching within confines of his restraints. A wet spot was steadily growing under you, the result of your combined desire. Your mouth slid off his, smearing spit over his cheek as you panted. To pretend to be unaffected would be pointless and foolish. A pair of dark eyes sparking with amusement met yours: he looked too smug for an Elf who was at the brink of coming undone.

Cheeks flushed and mouth wet, Erenion Gil-Galad gave you a little smirk.

You wished nothing more than to bite him. So you did. Teeth clashed as you initiated another kiss, taking full control of it this time. It was wet and messy, full of growling and fangs as you temporarily abandoned your gentleness. You fucked his mouth with yours until your tasted bloody meat, and only then you withdrew, observing the momentary change in his behaviour. He was surprised, conquered, staring at you with reverence.

Your game of tug of war continued. He pushed and you pulled: he arched his chest and you bit down on his nipple, pulling it taut and letting your teeth scrape the surrounding sensitive tissue until his gasps descended into whimpers and bitten-off, broken Quenya. You raked blunt nails over his sides as he shuddered with sensation somewhere between pleasure and pain. Very few knew their King was ticklish and even fewer had the skills to incorporate it into ardurous sensual torture. You could have given any experienced courtesan a run for their money with how you played the High King akin to an instrument.

Maglor's incredible and terrifying singing had nothing on the broken noises coming out of the hot wet mouth of your King. Erenion was no songbird, no, he was a lone wolf howling at the moon. You observed the results of your handiwork as he shook with desire. There was little else to do but marvel.

Erenion Gil-Galad was a vision. Arms and chest criss-crossed with angry red welts where the ropes had rubbed a webbed pattern into his skin, he sat flushed and panting. Mouth red, as if wine stained, and eyes lidded, moved in wordless pleas for release. The need was showcased at the apex of his thighs where he'd leaked right through his trousers. Brown fabric was stained nearly black all around his sizeable bulge.

It was when you found yourself kneeling before it that reality sharply hit you in the face. Here you were, a servant, kneeling at the feet of your King, and he could do little else than plead for your mercy. And there was nothing else you wished to see more than give it to him - to see his face fall slack and easy, to see his twitching fingers finally find rest. But it was not the point of this. One release just bought the two of you a little time until the next.

The only thing you truly had control over was the amount of time it passed between the two. Not when you gave it and not how you gave it, for all that Erenion had to do was dismiss your advances and you would go back to sorting his mail and compiling his daily schedule.

Distracted, you nuzzled into his crotch, and fiddled with his trousers. His erect cock greeted you with a throb; the King moaned and threw his head back, straining the ropes to a point you began to consider they would lose their magic at once and simply snap. No such thing happened even as you blew gently onto the heated head of his cock.

“Cruel!..” He mumbled in between curses in languages you did not even know. “I was patient!” He objected to your withdrawal from his cock with fervor.

You were simply adjusting yourself. Not that he saw it, nearly delirious with need.

“Patient on account of lacking other options,” you teased him mirthfully.

He chuckled, but that noise quickly turned into a moan as you stuck out your tongue to trace the thick, prominent vein curving along the underside of his cock. Taking care to avoid the sensitive head, you took some tablets to lavish the shaft with soft licks of tour tongue. The sweet-salty taste of him beckoned you, clear droplets sliding down his cock just so you could curl your tongue around the middle of it to catch as much of the nectar as you could.

You went downwards, popping each of his testicles into your mouth. A whine in a pitch very few had ever heard echoed in the room; the chair creaked, it's back legs lifting off the ground. You immediately withdrew, placing apologetic kisses all along his cock as you ascended towards the tip. Erenion had been patient indeed and was now firmly stood at the edge of total overstimulation.

Sensitive Elven bodies, used to hard wars and tender lovemaking, had a very fine line that separated pleasure and pain. It'd been a steep learning curve to learn how to pluck the strings of your King just right, but once you figured out how to get him in that sweet spot betwixt the two and never firmly on the side of either, your sessions became something beautiful.

You wrapped your lips around him - he shuddered - and hollowed out your cheeks, tonguing along the frenulum as you swallowed as much of your King as would fit in your mouth. What couldn't fit was taken up by your hand, working him with all your might, going in for the winning round with single-minded abandon.

Erenion bucked his hips wildly, adding to the cacophony of your coupling. Moans, sighs and wet squelching, the creak of the chair that surely was to be replaced come morning - it all faded into the background as you kept your eyes firmly on the face of your King. Contorted in sweet agony, he gasped for breath once, twice, before his brow turned lax and a torrent of bittersweet nectar flooded your mouth.

Kneeling in awe and reverence, you swallowed it all. Erenion's chest heaved, covered in a translucent sheen of cool sweat, and he remained moaning softly all throughout it, reacting only when his flaccid flesh slipped from your mouth. His mouth was open and eyes closed as you undid the knots, content to ignore your own discomfort until the moment to relieve it offered itself.

You rubbed his wrists, eyeing his face for any discomfort. There was none - Erenion remained as timelessly beautiful when disheveled as he was in his golden garb. The corners of his mouth turned up in a lazy, absent smile, he freed a wrist to pull you in. You mirrored his smile.

“Come,” he spoke, voice rough. Unsteadily, he stood up, and pulled you towards the hidden door leading to his chambers. “We are not finished yet.”

Pretending to be surprised, you chuffed softly at the lack of care he showed at his own state of undress. He truly cared not, for he was the King, and managing his reputation (and any missteps of his in that regard) was your responsibility as his personal attendant anyway.

Would he ever make it easy for you? No. But, perhaps, one day you might get him to beg...

Someone said slightly bratty sub gil x service dom reader? OK I said it. I am pretty sure this is gender neutral, but in case it isn't, point out gendered things/words to me. I didn't bother to proofread it because I got too horny while writing it. I don't like this as much as I wish I did but oh well.

a/n: the bigger sub/smaller dom is an actual issue if you get physical during your scenes. I've dommed men roughly the size of Ben (I'm 5'4 130?lbs) and there are scenes and things that we simply cannot do safely, unless the sub is at least somewhat restrained. Even further, taking into account that canonical gil-salad is 7+ft... Tie that elf down before you let him brat/overstim or you'll get flat out 💅yeeted💅 across all Lindon.

#gil galad x reader #erenion gil galad x reader #gender neutral reader #gil galad x you #gil galad smut #gil galad fluff #(question mark?)#rop smut #rings of power smut #Silmarillion smut #ben with his pouty lips and tragic hero face siiigh

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misswynters · 3 months ago

Text

Wings of Camaraderie

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader x Addam of Hull

[warning: none

[word count: 2.3k

[note | was supposed to be a drabble…got carried away also you are the betrothed of our beloved jace. you have a platonic relationship with addam

[a/n: aero makes an appearance again!!! also this a peaceful version, no usurping or anything.

[requested: by anon

A golden hue by the morning sunrise was casted over Dragonstone, painting the castle in a majestic light. The sea waves crashed rhythmically against the cliffs, their whispers blending with the morning breeze. You, Lady ___ of House Lannister, stood at the balcony overlooking the beautiful sea, your betrothal to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon a bond that promised strength and unity between your houses.

"Good morning," Jacaerys' voice broke through the tranquil morning, his warm presence filling the space beside you. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple, his dark curls brushing against your skin. "Couldn't sleep?"

You shook your head, smiling up at him. "Just admiring the view. It's beautiful here."

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. "Not as beautiful as you."

A playful scoff escaped your lips. "You say that now. Wait until you see me after a long day of riding."

He smirked and let out a chuckle, his laughter a deep rumble that resonated in your chest. "Riding what, exactly?” He asked, the smirk still painted on his lips.

You wanted to act oblivious to his response however you couldn’t keep a straight face. You began to chuckle to yourself, turning away from his face due to your immaturity. Jace cleared his throat, trying to relieve the sudden awkwardness, “Well even then, you'd outshine the sun."

Your eyes met again, a silent understanding passing between you. Despite the political nature of your union, there was genuine affection and respect growing between you. Jacaerys was kind, thoughtful, and brave—everything you had hoped for in a husband.

A knock on the door interrupted your moment. You turned to see Addam Velaryon, Jacaerys' cousin and your close friend, standing at the entrance. His smile was bright and infectious, a contrast to the serious demeanor he often wore during training.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," Addam said, stepping inside. "I thought I'd join you for breakfast."

"You're always welcome," Jacaerys replied, gesturing for Addam to join you on the balcony. "The more, the merrier."

The three of you settled at the table, the morning sun casting a warm glow over your faces. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared memories. Addam recounted a particularly amusing incident from his childhood, making you and Jacaerys laugh heartily.

"Do you remember when we tried to fly Seasmoke without permission?" Addam grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "We were nearly caught by the dragonkeepers."

Jacaerys laughed, shaking his head. "How could I forget? We barely made it back without being scorched."

You smiled, enjoying the camaraderie between the two cousins. Their bond was evident, forged through shared experiences and mutual respect. You felt fortunate to be welcomed into this close-knit family, your own bonds with them growing stronger each day.

As breakfast came to an end, Addam suggested a ride along the beach. "It's a perfect day for it. What do you say?"

You and Jacaerys exchanged a glance, both nodding in agreement. "Let's do it," Jacaerys said, his eyes shining with excitement.

The three of you made your way to the stables, the scent of hay and horses filling the air. You chose your steeds, each one a magnificent example of the Velaryon stables' prowess. Your horse, a beautiful chestnut mare named Sunfire, nickered softly as you approached.

Mounting your horses, you rode down to the beach, the wind whipping through your hair and the sound of hooves thundering against the sand. The freedom and exhilaration of the ride filled your senses, the world narrowing down to just the three of you and the endless horizon.

As you slowed your pace, Jacaerys and Addam rode up beside you, their expressions mirroring your own joy. "This is what life should be," Addam said, his voice filled with contentment. "Moments like these."

Jacaerys nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Agreed. It's easy to forget what's truly important with all the responsibilities we bear."

You smiled, feeling a deep sense of belonging. "And what's that?" you asked, curious.

"Family, friends, love," Jacaerys replied, his eyes meeting yours. "Those are the things that matter most."

Addam nodded in agreement, his expression sincere. "And loyalty. Standing by each other, no matter what."

The three of you continued your ride, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment. As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the beach, you knew that this was only the beginning of a lifelong journey filled with love, friendship, and loyalty.

Back at the castle, you found yourselves gathered in the Great Hall, a roaring fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls. The day's ride had left you exhilarated and more connected than ever.

"Let's make a toast," Jacaerys said, raising his goblet. "To new beginnings and unbreakable bonds."

"To friendship and loyalty," Addam added, his goblet joining Jacaerys'.

"And to love," you finished, your heart swelling with affection for the two men beside you.

The goblets clinked together, the sound ringing out like a promise. As you sipped the rich wine, you felt a deep sense of gratitude. The bonds you were forging here, with Jacaerys and Addam, were as strong as dragonfire and as enduring as the tides.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the love of your new family, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. And together, you would be unstoppable.

Days turned into weeks, and you found yourself settling into life at Dragonstone with ease. The castle's ancient halls and vast libraries became your sanctuary, and the island's rugged beauty a constant source of inspiration. Each day brought new adventures and deeper connections with Jacaerys and Addam.

One particularly bright morning, you awoke to find a note slipped under your door. Unfolding the parchment, you read Jacaerys' familiar handwriting: Meet us at the training grounds after breakfast. We have a surprise for you.

Intrigued, you quickly dressed and made your way to the Great Hall. The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread and spiced honey filled the air as you joined Jacaerys and Addam at the breakfast table.

"Good morning," you greeted them, your curiosity piqued. "What's this about a surprise?"

Jacaerys exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Addam. "You'll see soon enough. Eat up—we have a big day ahead."

After a hearty breakfast, the three of you walked to the training grounds. The crisp morning air was filled with the sounds of clashing swords and the grunts of soldiers in training. As you approached, you noticed a group of dragonkeepers gathered around a familiar figure.

"Surprise!" Jacaerys announced, gesturing toward the dragon. "We thought it was time for you to bond with a dragon of your own."

Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight before you. The dragon was a magnificent creature, its scales shimmering with hues of crimson. You recognized it as Aero, one of the untamed dragons of dragonstone. Which you once met on a previous day, the dragon was kinda fond of you. However he left abruptly before hours can claim him.

"He’s beautiful," you whispered, awe-struck.

Addam stepped forward, a reassuring smile on his face. "Go on. Approach him slowly and confidently."

With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, you walked toward Aero. The dragon's eyes, intelligent and ancient, watched you closely. As you extended a hand, Aero lowered his head, allowing you to touch his warm scales.

A sense of wonder and connection washed over you as you felt the dragon's breath against your skin. It was as if you could feel his heartbeat, a steady rhythm that mirrored your own.

"He’s accepted you," Jacaerys said, his voice filled with pride. "You are now his rider."

Tears of joy welled up in your eyes as you looked at Jacaerys and Addam. "Thank you. This means more to me than you can imagine."

Over the following weeks, you spent countless hours with Aero, learning to communicate with him and strengthen your bond. Jacaerys and Addam often joined you, their own dragons a constant presence. The three of you became inseparable, your friendship deep ening with each shared experience.

One day, as you were practicing aerial maneuvers with Aero, Jacaerys and his dragon Vermax flew alongside you. Addam, riding Seasmoke, joined shortly after. The three dragons moved in perfect harmony, a testament to the bond their riders shared.

"We make a formidable team," Jacaerys shouted over the wind, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Indeed we do," Addam agreed, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Imagine what we could accomplish together."

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over Dragonstone, you and your companions descended to the beach. The day's practice had left you exhilarated and invigorated. The dragons landed gracefully, their mighty wings creating gusts of wind that sent the sand swirling.

Sitting around a campfire, you shared stories and laughter. Jacaerys, ever the storyteller, regaled you with tales of his ancestors and their legendary deeds. Addam, with his quick wit, kept you entertained with amusing anecdotes and clever remarks.

The night was filled with warmth, the bond between you three growing stronger with each passing moment. As the fire crackled and the stars twinkled above, you felt a deep sense of contentment.

"To our friendship," Jacaerys said, raising a goblet of wine. "May it endure through all trials and tribulations."

"To loyalty," Addam added, clinking his goblet against Jacaerys'. "May we always stand by each other."

"And to love," you finished, your heart swelling with affection for the two men beside you. "May it guide us and keep us strong."

The goblets clinked together, the sound ringing out like a promise. As you sipped the rich wine, you felt a profound sense of gratitude. The bonds you were forging with Jacaerys and Addam were as strong as dragonfire and as enduring as the tides.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the love of your friends, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

The months passed in a blur of training, laughter, and shared adventures. Your bond with Jacaerys and Addam deepened with each passing day. The castle of Dragonstone became your home, its ancient walls a sanctuary of love and camaraderie.

One day, as you practiced your swordsmanship with Addam, a messenger arrived with a scroll bearing the Lannister sigil. You unrolled the parchment and read the message from your father, Lord Tyland Lannister.

My dear ___,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. Your mother and I are eager to hear news of your life at Dragonstone and the progress of your betrothal to Prince Jacaerys.

I have received word of an upcoming tournament in King's Landing to celebrate the birth of Prince Aegon Targaryen, Rhaenyra's son. It would be a splendid opportunity for you to showcase your dragonriding skills and for us to reunite as a family. Your mother and I look forward to seeing you soon.

With love, Father

You shared the news with Jacaerys and Addam, excitement bubbling within you. The prospect of the tournament and reuniting with your family filled you with anticipation.

"A tournament in King's Landing sounds like a perfect opportunity," Jacaerys said, a smile spreading across his face. "We can showcase our dragons."

Addam nodded, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "And it will be a chance to demonstrate the strength of House Velaryon and House Lannister.”

As the days passed, you prepared for the journey to King's Landing, your excitement growing with each passing moment. The thought of showcasing your bond with Aero and reuniting with your family filled you with a sense of purpose and pride.

The journey to King's Landing was filled with breathtaking vistas. As you approached the capital, the sight of the Red Keep towering above the city filled you with awe.

The tournament grounds were abuzz with activity, knights and nobles from across the realm gathering to celebrate and compete. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and the clashing of swords.

On the day of the tournament, you donned your finest armor, a striking combination of Lannister crimson and Velaryon silver. Jacaerys and Addam were equally resplendent, their presence commanding attention as they rode alongside you.

As the tournament commenced, you watched in awe as knights jousted and fought with unmatched skill and valor. When it was time for the dragonriding event, you felt a surge of excitement and nerves.

Mounting Aero, you soared into the sky, the wind rushing past you as you performed daring maneuvers and breathtaking aerial displays. The crowd below erupted in cheers and applause, their admiration fueling your determination.

Jacaerys and Addam joined you in the sky, their dragons moving in perfect harmony with Sunfyre. The three of you performed a mesmerizing display of dragonriding prowess, showcasing the strength and unity of your bond.

As you landed, the crowd's applause was deafening, their cheers a testament to the success of your performance. Your father and mother, beaming with pride, rushed to embrace you.

"We are so proud of you," your father said, his voice filled with emotion. "You have brought great honor to House Lannister."

Your mother nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. "And you have found a true family in House Velaryon."

The days that followed were filled with celebrations and festivities, the bonds between your houses growing even stronger. As you danced and laughed with Jacaerys and Addam, you felt a deep sense of fulfillment and happiness.

Your journey had led you to forge bonds that were unbreakable, and your future was filled with promise and hope. No matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew that with Jacaerys and Addam by your side, you could face anything.

As the sun set over King's Landing, casting a warm, golden glow over the city, you felt a profound sense of gratitude. The bonds you had forged with Jacaerys and Addam were as strong as dragonfire and as enduring as the tides.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @beebeechaos @spn-obession

banner: @cafekitsune

#house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys fluff #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys strong #addam of hull x reader #addam of hull #addam velaryon

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anonimusunnoaniswriting · 7 months ago

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𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑴𝒚 𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟐

(𝑺𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

⚠️MDNI. 18+ ADULTS ONLY⚠️

🎀Age in bio or blocked🎀

Rating: Mature

Category: F/M

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler

Relationship: Sebastian Michaelis/CielsCousin!Reader

Characters: Sebastian Michaelis; Reader; Ciel Phantomhive; Elizabeth Midford

Summary: After spending the day with your cousin and his fiance, the night air makes for pleasant company, as does the butler who reveals a dark secret...

Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut; Eventual Smut; Neck Kissing; Kissing; Gentle Kissing; Surprise Kissing; Making Out; Implied Sexual Content; Phantomhive manor; Reader-Insert; Victorian

A/N: not beta read. We die like men. Again.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2: 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕭𝖚𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖗; 𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

The day passed without much incident. A wall seemed to have broken down, between you and the butler after your morning rendezvous. Throughout the day, he looked after both your needs and his young master’s as well. You had spent some time with your cousin today as he hadn’t had too much on his schedule like he usually did. Breakfast, luncheon and supper were all had with the boy who kept your mind occupied with discussions on business and society. And Sebastian served you while also making sure to linger longer than necessary by your side, whether it was him pouring wine into your glass, or brushing against you while bringing you your plate. Surreptitious movements that luckily went unnoticed by your young cousin.

Lady Elizabeth joined the two of you for supper. Though she was from your side of the family you had never met the child personally. The girl had a lot of energy. She loved dressing up as was evident from her clothing. You had heard of her mother being a fearsome lady, one who could fight a tiger barehanded and win, but the daughter carried no such resemblance.

“ –And then, Mother let me make two more dresses to match with the jewellery she bought me!” You had missed the initial conversation but gleaned from the few lines that she had an affinity for fashion and clothing. It was not unlike a lady of her stature.

“Oh when I was your age, I loved getting new dresses made!” You smiled at her. “After I fell sick the first time, however, I started to dislike it a bit.” It was true. You used to have dresses made by the dozen. The seamstress saw your home more than her own shop! But your repeated illnesses have changed this. Every measurement taken anew showed how your body had changed. Warped into the form of the disease. And standing for the tape was exhausting. You found comfort in the clothing you already owned and preferred to have less made.

Elizabeth frowned. “Perhaps, Lady Phantomhive, you can come with me and we can have the tailor take your measurements too for a gown. I’m sure your mama and papa wouldn’t mind!” You blushed and shook your head. Perhaps your parents wouldn’t and even if you did have the energy to stand tomorrow, you would have to cover up the innumerable marks Sebastian left on you from your morning's tryst.

You laughed a nervous chuckle and replied, “Perhaps for the next season, I seem to have plenty of splendid dresses in my armada for the moment…”

Ciel retired to bed, soon after Elizabeth left to go back home. You sometimes forgot he was only 12 – his mannerisms far beyond his age. You walked out to the balcony. The garden was painted silver in the moonlight. Despite being quite clumsy, Finnian did a good job of maintaining it you thought to yourself.

“After all I did today to make sure you didn’t catch a cold, my lady, here you are inviting it yourself.” Sebastian’s voice came from behind, startling you. You turned your head to look as he emerged from the shadows draping a warm cloak over your shoulders. “Would you like to go for a walk my lady?” he asked. Once again, you thought you saw a flash of red in his eyes, but it was gone as soon as you took another glance. You nodded at him.

Sebastian took your hand and in one swift cat-like movement you found yourself in his arms flying through the air. You clung to his shoulders the night air whipping through your hair and biting at your cheeks. “Sebastian! Where are we going!” But the whistling of the wind drowned out your words.

When he finally landed, you looked around you, the garden was far, This was a denser shrubbery, almost like the maze Finnian so religiously took care to grow. “Should you be so far from the manor?” You asked him breathless, even though all you had done was be carried from one place to another. “Ciel might call for you or something.”

He shook his head. “You needn’t worry about that, my lady. The young master doesn’t wake till morning – when I wake him and I’m sure the manor will be fine without me for a bit.”

He smiles, reassuring you, and takes your hand, clasping it in his gloved ones. You begin to walk alongside him, his stride is shorter, making sure you can keep up, even in your bedroom slippers. Soon you come across a gazebo. The butler then invites you to sit and takes a seat beside you. “I do hope this isn’t too forward of me, my lady but I wish to continue where we had left off this morning.” You blush and avoid his gaze. You know that society would never approve of the relationship the two of you had. If anyone ever found out, it would bring shame to you and your family. You would be looked down upon for the longest time. “My lady?” Sebastian inquires after not hearing anything from you.

“Sebastian…” you start. But you don’t know how to form what you are feeling. “I- I-” you stutter. Then sigh. He puts his hand on your cheek and makes you look at him.

“My lady, if you want this to stop—” he begins but is cut off when you place your hand over his mouth.

“Believe me that is not what I want.” You say to him. “You are different Sebastian. I don’t get what you want. Your feelings are not of love. They aren’t for my money. And I feel you lust after me but that doesn’t come out too clearly either. I suppose, in a way, I am confused.” You get up, take a few steps forward and turn to look at him. “I have had men who have come to me for all the things I mentioned before. I have had those who might have actually loved me, those who merely wanted me as another trophy to claim, and even those who have come only to try and gain my hand in marriage but in reality who want to marry my father’s wealth. But you Sebastian, something about you is so different. I suppose it may be because you are the first man I have felt attracted to.” Your following chuckle is hesitant. “I am—afraid of you.”

Sebastian smirks. “Your way of seeing things is so intriguing my lady.” He says. “I can assure you my lady that I am not here for your money. I have no need for the material things that humans treasure so much.” He spits. “As for lusting after you; you have deduced almost correctly, but what I feel for you is more...” You don’t know when he got up, but turning to look you find Sebastian flush against your back. His eyes are red, the same red you tried to convince yourself you hadn't seen, but it was unmistakable. Your eyes widen and you try to take a step back, away from his imposing figure, only to find yourself trapped between him and the gazebo.

“You see my lady,” he continues, nose nuzzling against your neck, “Demons and humans have very little in common, but there is one thing we do share; the feeling of lust is very strong in us both. Humans can feel love. All demons can feel though; is lust. But you, you make me feel something different from just lust. Something more—burning. Is it love? I don’t know... I’ve never known that feeling.”

You don’t know what to say anymore. You should be frozen in fear, What did Sebastian mean, saying he was a demon? A murderer? Or a biblical fantasy? His lips were now on your skin, inhaling your scent, and you felt a pool of warmth in your lower belly. “D- demon? What does that even mean?” you falter.

“What I mean, my lady, is that the only reason I am here is because of a contract I have made with your dear young cousin. You should thank him for our very meeting.” He tells you.

“You mean you’re a demon. Like – from legends and stories?”

“I can assure you. I am no story” he says, planting a searing kiss on your neck. That was all it took to set you on fire. It made sense. The inhuman capabilities. The absolute perfection of his being. He was a demon! “You aren’t running from me my lady?” he asked as you melted under his touch.

“Surely, you jest Sebastian!” You say. Your voice quavers but you stand your ground.

“About what my lady?”

“About this demon nonsense!”

“I never lie to my lady.” He says. “You said yourself, there is something you find different about me.” He kisses you. “I am simply a demon, and a butler.”

***

Since you were tired from being out for so long, Sebastian swiftly carried you back to the mansion and took you to your room where there was a cup of hot chamomile tea waiting for you. He really took everything into account. There is no doubt about it in your mind now. Sebastian had to be a demon. His speed is inhuman. His eyes are reptilian, gleaming in the darkness. And then those teeth that scraped against your neck. Whatever he is, he definitely isn’t human.

As he helps you get ready for bed you realised that you didn’t mind. Sebastian may not have been a human, and he may have been a butler, but the way he made you feel surpassed all of that. “Sebastian…” You turn to him as he undresses you. You take off his coat. “I don’t care what you are.” You take off his vest. His eyes widen, and he stares at you. He can smell your arousal. Here you are half naked before him, taking off his clothes. Telling him you don’t care what he is. You want him. You feel things for him. Your scent drives him wild and he doesn’t even register you undoing his necktie and then his shirt buttons. When you try to take his shirt off and he doesn’t move to allow you to slip it off him, you suddenly think that perhaps he doesn’t want this. “I’m so sorry!” You say. “I thought you wanted this.” Sebastian finally wakes from his stupor and looks at you.

“I do want this. I just can’t believe that someone as beautiful and lovely as you truly wants something as vile and cruel as me.” He says and softly kisses your head. Then without warning he pushes you onto the bed and says, “But, my lady, who gave you the permission to take my clothes off?” He growls. The change in demeanour startles you.

“Sebas—” you start, but he does not let you finish. In a moment, his lips are upon yours. He swiftly and rips off your underclothes, while still kissing your mouth. His hands glide along the curves of your body and he holds you closer while plunging his tongue into your mouth.

He has never tasted anything like you before. He cannot fathom how in all the years he has lived he has never tasted anything like you. “I guess it’s something Phantomhives have in common eh? A taste like no other. I could feast on you all day.” He mutters half to himself.

“What–?” you ask breathlessly.

“You taste, sinful.”

He winks at you and pulls his glove off his left hand with his sharp teeth. His nails are black and on the back of his hand is a pentagram inside two circles. The outer, made of pointy diamond shapes. “My contract seal— nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, my lady.” he says, seeing you looking at it.

Sebastian trails his hand down your stomach. His black tipped fingers enter your folds which are already moist with your arousal. Lowering his head, he nibbles on your neck. You breathe in deeply and wish he would take off his clothes to allow you to see him but he had made it pretty clear who was in charge of the taking off of the clothing. His hand playing around with you down under barely ghosted over your skin. You involuntarily bucked your hips trying to get him to touch you. The move immediately made the demon smirk and say, “Look at you, so eager to be fucked.”

You feel your cheeks heat much like your core. His words are so unexpectedly crude. “Please,” you moan, “please touch me…”

To be continued…

A/N: hahah don't hurt me. Likes and reblogs are appreciated. Comments get you kissies.

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srvbryn · 9 months ago

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Luke Castellan. Flowers? What flowers

Luke Castellan X f!reader

summary: candlelit dinner with Luke Castellan

Valentine's prompt is from Valentine's Day Prompt

A/n: I apologize for posting shitty fanfic 😔🙏🏻

Luke revealed a stunning bouquet of vibrant flowers in the delicate shine of a lit candle, “Behold! Unparalleled beautiful flowers, suitable for my lovely lady.”

(Name) raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into an amused grin. "Luke, flowers and a candlelit dinner? have i swallowed a romance novel? did you?”

Luke winked, striking a pose. "Why not both? I'm a man of many talents, you know."

He couldn't help but say, "Consider it a token of my undying gratitude for your unmatched skill to endure my behaviour," as she happily accepted the bouquet.

She playfully rolled her eyes. "Flowers, Luke? I thought we were more of a prank and sarcasm kind of friendship."

Luke laughed, "Well, I figured a bit of floral finesse wouldn't hurt. Besides, even mischief-makers like me need a touch of romance."

Their conversation flowed naturally all throughout the candlelit dinner, telling an amusing story that only two closest companions was able.

Luke leaned back and smirked in satisfaction after telling an extremely long story concerning an incident involving spaghetti. "Who needs a romance novel when we've got this absurdly entertaining day?"

(Name) chuckled, toying with the flowers. "True, our story might not be a bestseller, but it's definitely a wild ride."

The evening wore on with laughter, shared memories, and more than a few clumsy attempts at being overly romantic.

Luke took a deep breath, "So, uh, Angel, about these flowers... they're not just for show."

(Name) raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. "Oh? Is this a new chapter in the Luke Castellan playbook, or did someone switch our scripts?"

He chuckled nervously, "Well, let's just say these flowers are... my way of saying something."

Her curiosity piqued, (Name) leaned in. "Spill it, Luke. I'm not great at deciphering floral messages."

Moving closer, he gave her another bouquet. "Consider these flowers as an introduction for what I'm going to say."

As she accepted the bouquet, he added, "I might be a prankster and a charmer, but there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while."

(Name) looked at him, intrigue mixed with a hint of surprise. "Okay, Luke, hit me with it."

Taking a deep breath, Luke locked eyes with her. "I think... no, scratch that, I know that what we have is more than just friendship. (Name), I... I really like you. More than just friends."

Her eyes widened, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Luke, are you telling me you're about to confess, right here, surrounded by candlelight and flowers?"

He nodded, "yeah I am"

She chuckled, "Well, I appreciate the fact that you swallowed a romance book for all this courage," (name) continues "But, in all seriousness, I like you too, Luke."

Relief washed over him, and Luke grinned. "So, we're on the same page?"

(Name) leaned in, closing the gap between them. "Absolutely."

Warmth of the moment enveloped them as their lips found each other in a sweet and tender kiss.

As they pulled away, Luke couldn't help but smile. "Well, that was definitely not in the usual playbook."

(Name) laughed, "Who needs a playbook when we've got this?" She gestured between them, the flickering candlelight casting a soft glow on their intertwined hands.

As they withdrew, their laughter continued to reverberate, but Luke couldn't help but grin. "You know, (Name), if I knew you were a good kisser, I would've confessed earlier."

(Name) raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Oh, is that so? Maybe you should've done your research before the grand confession."

Luke chuckled, and before he could react, (Name) playfully tugged at his necktie. "Research or not, let me show you what you've been missing."

She pulled him in for another kiss. The soft glow of candlelight painted their shared moment.

Luke smirked, "Maybe romance novels were onto something after all."

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #charlie bushnell

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emmyrosee · 1 year ago

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What’s up homeslice. I’m here because I’m on a Haikyuu bender and I know you’ve got the sweet sweet hookup.

So hear me out… I am a taller individual(5’8 to be more precise). We see a lot of content out there for ladies of average or shorter stature(I love all you small people out there, don’t you dare think otherwise) so I beseech thee: nishinoya, yaku, hoshiumi, Kenma, atsumu, hell maybe even suna. Any of these wonderful gents just being absolutely infatuated with a tall(ish) s/o.

If you don’t wanna do it, no worries my dude, I can smell what yer steppin in and I respect it, no problemo. Love peace and bacon grease my homie ✌️

Oh HELL YEAH MATE!!!! 5’9 representative 🥳🥳 also I want to eat this prompt for breakfast how could I NOT take it the hell you think this is??

Also as always my pieces are in timeskip but the gifs give me some organization so don’t @ me

Listen. Nishinoya would be in straight denial that you’d have reciprocated feelings for him because like. You’re you, okay; he worships the ground you walk on, but now knowing that you truly are into it, it increases tenfold.

“This isn’t even cat walking. This is goddess walking. This is queen walking. Here-“ he drops to his knees to give the ground, be it on cement or hardwood at home, a quick playful dust with his hands, shaking his head and relishing in the laugh you let out. “How could I possibly let my queen walk on the filth left behind by me?”

“Truly,” you snicker, and you lean down to meet him halfway for a kiss, which he rises on his haunches to reciprocate. “But I like your mess.”

“I like you,” he mumbles against your lips.

Yaku. My underrated loml. There’s minimal I wouldn’t do for this man. He’s so good to you and confident in himself that flirting with you came easy- turns out that you flirting back was his weakness.

He’s a complete victim of the psychology okay, you’re already taller than him, you already rock your height and are proud of it that you two just click.

And he’s so protective of you, it drives you wild; he knows your comfortable in your height, you far need him for protection, but that’s not the point. If anyone dare say anything about his beautiful lady, be it in any way but respectful, he truly turns into an attack dog, letting you watch in satisfaction as he completely tears apart whoever look at you the wrong way.

There was an incident you had to patch him up after a fight. But the way dazed and adoring eyes looked up at you, smiling a bloody smile and re-splitting his lip that almost makes his rare altercations worth it.

HOSHIUMI!!!! IS!!!! A NEW LOVE OF MINE!!!! CAME OUTTA NOWHERE FOR REAL!!!

And I so love to think he put the moves on you first, just flirting and sending you playful vibes because he’s a short king who’s confident in his height, and god it has you completely whipped.

He’s always so quick to hype you up in very Nishinoya-fashion, and he’s so unapologetic about having you on his arm, that anytime you enter a room, he not only opens the door for you, he steps ahead and yells out a swift “EXCUSE ME EVERYONE! Out of the way, please! Queen coming through!”

The sheer volume does have people parting to let you both come in, your hand laced with his and proud smirk on his face.

There’s very seldom a time that his cheeks aren’t completely painted with stains of tinted lip balms or lipstick, and he wears them like a badge of honor as you bend down to give them.

Woof. Atsumu. What else can I say about my pretty, goofy, dumb blonde?

What else can I say about the way he completely melts when you wear his jerseys, because they fall just slightly against your hips and when you reach up, a sliver of your skin comes out?

What else can I say about the way his eyes never leave you for long, be it when you’re in two day old sweats, or gown he splurged god knows how much on just to see you wear it?

What else can I say about how you rest your head on his shoulders while in line at the market, and he takes selfish inhales of your scent?

God. GOD.

Marking him up with lipstick and glossy marks isn’t foreign, even getting so cocky he merely taps his cheek no matter where you are, for a show offy kiss just to flex your height to everyone watching.

Okay. You know what’s up. Kenma is the og. He’s the number one. I LOVE this man. And he LOVES hyping you up in possessive, hot ways. For eXAMPLE, there’s a picture of you on his Instagram where you’re dawned in heels in preparation for a banquet for his sponsorships, towering over him with your back facing the mirror in your stunning form, and he’s merely smirking back into the camera. It looks chic, it looks smooth, and the caption has his entire fandom in a tizzy: “mom and dad say sit.”

Sure enough, when the comments are filled with suggestive comments and tons of “SORRY MOMMY-“ you scold him for his cheeky post, but secretly love the attention.

One time, you posed as Lady Dimitrescu, towering high over him, and he as Ethan Winters and by the time you woke up the next morning, it quickly rose to his most popular post.

What can he say? He likes being walked like a dog.

*sneezes* Suna’s is a lil dirty so minors pls go away for this part on, but here’s a Suna gif to make up for it

But. BUT-

I just relish in the thought of him not making you lift a finger; treating you like royalty for simply existing.

It’s why he never says anything as he sees you dressing up for sponsor events, instead guiding you to sit down while he fetches the brand new heels that go with the brand new dress he spoils you with. He tugs the seam of his pants up slightly before getting down on one knee and grabbing your foot and slipping the shoe on for you. His hands are gentle, and his lips leave adoring kisses along your knees and calves, tongue laving over your nylon covered flesh feverishly.

It makes you sink your teeth into your lip and tighten your thighs in need.

“You are fucking breathtaking,” he pants, letting his bottom lip draw along the length of your shin.

“I know, baby,” you whisper, matching his tone dominantly.

“You never cease to amaze me; made by the fucking gods, truly.”

“Rintaro-“

“Worship every inch of skin on this body-“

“We’re going to be late,” you snicker, rising to your feet and getting accustomed to the added five inches. He doesn’t move, merely smiling up at you, and you can practically see the invisible tail wagging behind him.

“I could stare at you forever,” he rasps. “I’d pay a sponsor to move his charity event if it meant I could rip this dress off you right now, make you scream my name.”

You giggle easily as he does, finally, get up, looking up at you with a bite of his lip. “If you behave tonight,” you begin, and he lets his eyes glaze over you one more time.

“I’ll let you.”

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ja3yun · 11 months ago

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The Sun That Always Burns | S.JY pt.5

sim jaeyun x afab!reader

warnings: smut(ish), mdni, cheating (i'm sorry), almost handjobs, heavy makeout, alcohol, serious longing, ynjake make stupid decisions, lmk if there is anything else.

wc: 4.7k+

synopsis: you and jake's high school relationship blossomed into a romance filled with hope and promise. However, as time went on, jake's long-term expectations began to weigh heavily on you, who struggled to meet them. your paths eventually lead you in separate directions, each experiencing different aspects of life and ultimately moving on from your past love. unexpectedly, fate intervened and you both reunite after years apart. the reunion allows you to rediscover your feelings for each other but also forces you to navigate the complexities of your past and present.

a/n: hey...hi...how we all doing. listen if you hate me after this chapter I get it </3. I did leave this on a cliffhanger but the next part is the finale! i love my little pookie yn she's trying her best she just can't handle her liquor (she's so real, so me). hope you all enjoy and see you for the finale next week!

masterlist

The shower hits off your skin as you finally have time to process everything that’s happened over the last few days; seeing Jaeyun again, coming to terms with his engagement, getting forgiveness from him, and his dad’s words. It’s a lot to process. The one thing you can’t seem to understand though is his and Yeoreum’s relationship. When you first arrived it was as if everything was sunshine and rainbows with the way she was talking. Her nonchalant way of saying he got over you quickly, how they’re soulmates, but that's not what his actions are saying and definitely not what they’re argument was eluding to. Your mind scrambles to piece it all together, like, maybe it’s different because you’re here and once the wedding is over and you leave they’ll go back to the way Yeoreum painted them.

But he kissed your hand. He made all those CDs of your old mixtapes. He told you he loved you.

The warm droplets act as a blanket around you providing comfort and warmth as you run your fingers through your wet and soapy hair. Thinking about him just made more memories rise to the surface. How when you got stressed with exams he would make you take a shower with him and he would innocently wash your hair for you. His fingers would rub your scalp as if to ease the pain your brain was in from cramming so many topics in it at once. With his chest flushed against your back, he raked his hands through your hair and made sure he didn’t miss a bit. “I’m practicing. For when we’re old and brittle and have to look after each other.” He would say so casually. That was the thing about Jaeyun, he always made you feel like no matter what happened, his love for you was eternal.

You turn the shower off and step carefully onto the mat, but as a chap sounds from the door you jump and almost lose your balance. Gripping tightly onto the counter to steady yourself you curse under your breath and wrap a towel around your body. “Yes?”

“Y/N! Hurry up, we’re going out tonight.” Eunseo’s pretty voice travels through the door. After confirming it was her you open the door and look at her confused. “Me, you, Heeseung, Jake, and Yeoreum are going out. Like a joint bachelor-bachelorette thingy.” She claps excitedly.

“Didn’t they already have their parties? You got really stressed when the inflatables you planned went to your elderly neighbour.” A chuckle leaves your lips as you recall the incident. The delivery of nonsensical blowup dicks and penis straws went to Mrs. Kim, a 87-year-old lady, who lives next door to Eunseo and she, unfortunately, opened it. Their relationship was never the same.

Eunseo scowls at the thought, “Please don’t remind me, she thinks I’m a sex pest or something now.” Her hand raised to stop you from saying any further as she carried on, “But this is just to let loose. After that walk and shit, I think they need it.” Nodding you agree and she smiles, “Then get ready! I’ve looked out your fit.” That could only mean one thing: you were going to be cold tonight.

After getting dressed you trail behind Eunseo you walk into the living room to find the rest waiting for you both which seems to be a theme this past week. Eunseo apologises like she always does and then hurries everyone as if she isn’t the reason the taxi fare is already up by £20.

Heeseung puts his hand on the small of your back, leaning down to whisper, “You look so good. If there wasn’t a bro code…” he trails off and leaves it there with a cheeky smile. To be honest you felt hot, probably the hottest you have in any of your best friend’s clothes. She had looked out a black corset top with lacey detailing at the side, a white mini skirt with perfectly placed black bows on either side of your hips, and black thigh-high boots that were not the easiest to get on. This outfit called for your hair to be curled and eyeliner so sharp that it could open envelopes.

Nudging him you laugh and keep walking, “You couldn’t handle it.” You playfully sway your hips and Heeseung pretends to fall to his knees, a hand clutching his chest. When little moments like this happen, the world suddenly feels like it’s aligned. Like you had your old life back.

The taxi drive is short, and full of chatter and excitement. Yeoreum and Jaeyun seem to have made up, or at least enough to fake it for the journey, her laughter and his hand on her thigh being your indications.

The club is busy, filled with people your age and younger just trying to get drunk. Thursdays are always the best day to go out; it’s cheaper and has a more student-based clientele than on a Saturday when creepy men in their 40s come out from the shadows. Eunseo flashes her signature smile and you guys are let in without any hesitation. You look at her skimpy outfit and think that might have helped the situation.

Music and heat hit you all at once and it’s overwhelming but in the best way possible. The musky smell of alcohol and smoke from the machines feels like a time machine back to your second year of college, a mixture of shame and fondness washing over you as you remember the many hook-ups and walks of shame you did.

Eunseo grabs your hand and raises it as she leads you to the bar to get the first of too many drinks tonight. She orders two double vodkas with lemonade and two baby guinnesses, they've become your favourites over the years. As the bartender goes to make them she turns to you, “Are you going to make your move on Heeseung tonight?” A loud sharp laugh leaves your mouth at her question, she really wasn’t letting this go.

“Eunseo, he isn’t my type I have told you this.” The shots come first and you clink it on the bar and shoot it down. “He’s hot but I’m not interested.”

“Those two sentences don’t go together, babe. And what’s one night? You’ve been with plenty of uglier men than him.” Her eyes are on Heeseung at the other side of the bar, buying drinks for him and the bride and groom.

“I don’t know,” You desperately try to come up with an excuse as to why you won’t fuck him. It’s a boundary you can’t cross but if you tell her that you need to tell her about you and Jaeyun’s history. Your drinks are now in front of you both and you use that as the perfect excuse, “Come on, let’s dance.”

One hand holding your drink and the other holding Eunseo’s hand you lead her to a spot and start to move your hips to the music, letting all the tension you’ve felt go. A genuine smile creeps on your face and you down your drink. And another. And another.

Shots. Doubles. Test tubes. Cocktails. You’re surprised you’re still standing.

The lights are blurred as you laugh at nothing, jumping around and splashing your drink on innocent bystanders along the way. Eunseo is off finding herself a suitor for the night so it leaves you on your own for a while. That is until familiar hands make their way to your hips and hold you still.

Your head slowly turns around, scared that if you go too fast you might vomit. A concerned look from Jaeyun is what you are met with as he speaks to you but with the music and your drunkenness you can’t hear him, instead, you wrap your arms around his neck and giggle like you’re in high school again after seeing his face. “Jaeyun.” His name comes out with a laugh, “Come to dance with me?” Your head tilts, your eyes shut, and your mouth pouts.

“Y/N, come on sit down with us.” His head nods to the booth his fiance and best man are sitting at, their eyes on you both. Sober you would agree and keep your distance, but drunk you is in charge and you know fine well how that goes. She doesn’t make your life that easy.

“Baby” you whine, “One dance? Pretty please?” Your bottom lip hides your top one and Jaeyun almost falls to his knees. You’re so cute like this he could eat you up, or eat you out if he was in different circumstances. His eyes dart to Heeseung in a pleading manner and he seems to catch the gist, pulling Yeoreum to the bar for another drink.

Jaeyun gives in. “One dance, and then you’re sitting down.” His hands gently squeeze your hips like he used to when he was warning you.

“On your lap?” A smirk slips onto your face and your free hand plays with his hair.

Jaeyun blows out air and looks up to the ceiling, trying to calm himself down. “No, Y/N.” He speaks to the sky before finding the courage to speak directly at you again, “On a seat.”

You were making this so difficult for him, if it wasn’t your outfit it was the reckless way you were behaving as if his fiance wasn’t just meters away. The skirt that was already short was now basically halfway up your ass and his hands longed to be placed there. You’re the bain of his existence and all his morals in this moment.

You bring your hands back to your chest, clutching the drink and downing it before throwing the plastic away and reaching up, doing some sort of dancing but to Jaeyun it’s more like one of those animal mating calls. You’re calling him to you and he’s seconds away from answering. His hands let go of your waist and hover over your arm, “Come on, let’s go sit dow-”

“You promised one dance and I have yet to see you dance Mr. Sim.” Your words slur but the tone is authoritative yet playful. Awkwardly, he grants your wish and dances with you, aware of where is appropriate to touch and what’s not but when you grab his hands to place them on your ass he squeezes impulsively, bringing you closer to him. “That’s it.” You say so innocently but it has his two heads fuzzy with need.

“Princess, we can’t dance like this.” Despite his words his hands never leave your backside. Here comes that pout again decorating your face and your eyes twinkle.

“But I’ve been a good girl.”

Oh fuck.

Jaeyun growls and squeezes your plump cheeks, the action pressing his cock against your lower abdomen. You jump a little asking for him to pick you up like you used to do and his mind is so overcome with desire for you his hands slide to the back of your thighs and hoist you up. Smiling proudly you look down at him, now slightly taller from the height he’s holding you, you lean into his neck and brush your glossy lips over his sensitive spot. Even after all these years and with more alcohol in your system than an aunt at Christmas you’re still aware of Jaeyun’s likes and wants.

Jaeyun carries you to the back of the club which was basically in pure darkness, the only light coming from the emergency exit sign and a passing strobe light. Every sensible fiber of his being is lost, the only coherent thought he has is to listen to his heart calling out for you.

He perches you up on the thin bar that’s screwed into the wall, the metal cold against your skin but at this moment you couldn’t care less. Your lips are now on his neck, kissing your way down to his shoulder and his chest rumbles with a moan. “Princess I’ve missed you so much.” His hands hold you steady, thumb rubbing against the lace on your corset.

“Missed you more.” You puff out, eyes locking onto his. “I love you”. The phrase slips out of your mouth purposefully for the first time in 4 years and Jaeyun’s eyes flash with something, something electric and his mouth is on yours quicker than lightning. His lips that you’ve craved finally find their way back home to you. “I love you so much.” You whisper, your lips always connected.

Grabbing his t-shirt you pull him in closer, scared that if you loosen your grip he’ll be gone forever. He feels your desperate touch and his tongue swipes against your bottom lip as he grinds his hips into your core. He uses your moaning as a gateway into your mouth, his tongue exploring around and coming into contact with your soft kitten licks. Just as before, a growl leaves him, kissing you so passionately and deeply. “Love you so fucking much, baby.”

His words fuel you to lose all sense of control and your hands slide down his torso to his jeans, pawing over his concealed cock. You missed Jaeyun more than anything, and god did you miss his dick and how it was tailor-made just for you.

As your hands slip into his jeans he stops kissing you and looks at you deep into your soul, begging for it, and then he really looks at you. You’re drunk, eyes glazed, you might not remember this, or worse, regret it. He's also doing the one thing he promised never to do to any woman. Cheat. His heart stops as he comes to terms with what he has to do.

“Princess, we can’t.” Reluctantly he grabs your arm and pulls it, the warmth of your palm gone, leaving his cock twitching and aching for you. You’re confused, looking between your hand and his face.

“Did I do something wrong?” The innocent question paired with your bambi eyes almost has him saying no and letting this continue but he shakes his head and holds your hand in his.

“Never. You’re such a good girl, yeah?” You smile and go to touch him again but he grabs your face with his hands, the action stopping you. “We just can’t.” You whisper a small ‘why?’ almost inaudible, “Because, baby, you’re drunk and this is complicated. I want you so much, please don’t think I don’t.” He assures you as he sees the tears fill your eyes. His lips kiss yours again and he’s playing with fire but if tomorrow you sober up and don’t speak to him again, he has to have one last kiss.

He picks you up and places you down so your feet are on the sticky club ground. “Let’s get you back to the house, okay Princess?” He whispers and turns around but your small hand is suddenly on his cheek, guiding it to face you. “What is it, love?” his hand lays over yours as he melts into your touch.

“Please don’t marry her.”

____________

A dull pain spreads across your forehead as the sun infiltrates the room rudely awakening you. There is a taste in your mouth but you can’t quite place it, it’s strange yet familiar. You don’t remember much, and what you do remember is blurry and without a timeline. There were shots, vodkas, and dancing, these are the only memories you have.

Looking around the room with squinted eyes you try to adjust to the light, it’s warm and you’re sweating which makes you feel disgusting and sticky. A groan leaves your lips and that’s when Eunseo turns to you, the first time you’ve noticed her since your sleep was disturbed. Her face is stern as her body swivels in the chair to face you.

“Good night?” She says bitterly. Oh, you’ve definitely done something wrong. Quick, think about everything, shots, too many more shots, dancing, a dark room? You shake your head to align your thoughts but nothing is coming. Eunseo scoffs and strides over to your bed, sitting down on the end of the bed. “You really don’t remember?” Her tone is accusatory with a glint of sass. Now you really had to think about what she was referring to.

“Um, I remember you going to hook up with that tall guy with the pretty lips?” Maybe you could get her to speak about that instead of whatever awful thing you had done.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as the hangxiety kicked in tenfold. “Think harder.” She demands, her whole body now facing you with her legs tucked under her, “When I was hooking up with the hottie?”

Think.

“I-” You had no answer for her, maybe after a couple of paracetamol and some coffee you could then hazard a guess but for now it was a distant memory buried under the alcohol that is admittedly still in your veins. “Eunseo what did I do?”

The question causes silence and the room has tension so thick not even a knife could slice through it. “Are you really sure you don’t remember?” She’s mad. Really mad.

Okay, so you got to the bar, had drinks, got drunk, danced with people, kissed Jaeyun, got in a tax-

Kissed Jaeyun.

That’s the taste in your mouth. It’s him. Dancing with him, kissing him, touching him, craving every inch of him, and Eunseo knows. She saw it.

Your rapid heartbeat is going so fast you think it’s stopped. Your face shifts from confusion to guilt and shock. “See! Now you remember! Please explain yourself.” You couldn’t. There was no excuse to be said without blurting out every detail of your life and more importantly, your life with Jaeyun.

Stuttering you look around wondering if there is any way to escape this conversation, maybe a secret passage that you can teleport from. Unfortunately for you, there wasn’t a way out. You had made your bed so now you have to lay in it. “Eunseo I-”

“No you know what, let me speak.” She stands up and clasps her hands together, “I can forgive you, just tell me you were so drunk you thought it was someone else, please.”

“It’s more complicated-” She cut you off again.

“I know he’s hot, okay? But to kiss my sister’s fiance like that, you don’t have any shame huh?” Her tone is spiteful as she spits at you trying to wrack up any rationality that you can muster.

“Eunseo please just listen to me.” I stand up and reach for her but she pulls away. Her demeanor is standoffish as she places her left hand on her hip. “It’s so much more than you think.”

“Oh, what? It was love at first sight? You thought it was Heeseung? Taking advantage of the fact they’re fighting?” A step forward from her has you stepping back, “Fucking tell me, Y/N because I am struggling deeply here.”

“He’s my ex.”

Her body stills, her hands laid flat in front of her as she processes your words. “Not your ex that…” she trails off thinking, her eyes following an invisible pattern on the ceiling as she tries to work it out, “Not that ex you spoke about? Surely not?”

Every inch of you wants to pretend it isn’t. Pretend that it's another fling and it means nothing to you but as you stare into your best friend's eyes you realise you can’t lie to her, not anymore.

“That ex.” You breathe out and sit down. “Eunseo, please hear me out.”

The thing about Eunseo is that she has always been understanding but as her gaze burns into yours you wonder if she’ll be so kind. Her weight sits next to you as she sighs and it’s your opportunity to speak. “When you invited me, I didn’t know. I didn’t know Jaeyun would walk in beside Yeoreum.” Your voice is pleading with her to believe you but her face remains the same so you continue, “I was so drunk last night I think instincts kicked in. I shouldn’t have kissed him.”

She scoffs, “What was your plan, hm? Did you see him and go ‘oh yeah I’ll get him back easy’”

“Never. It has never been on my radar. It was the drink. I-”

Eunseo interrupts you by sticking her hand in your face, “You still love him, don’t you?” You can’t even look at her, just the swirling mix of her words and the memory of Yeoreum during her argument with Jaeyun swirling in your mind.

You nod, “Listen, I am not trying to break them up, me and Jaeyun haven’t spoken much. We’ve reconciled and that’s about it.” It wasn’t completely a lie, you wouldn’t tell her about the whispered I love you he shared when you saw him on the first night, or the mixtapes and handholding, she didn’t have to know. “I’m not breaking up this marriage.”

“Wow, so kind of you,” Eunseo scoffs, “Listen, I love you but I need you out of here.” Her tone is less venomous but still pointed. “Your relationship with him, from what Yeoreum has told me about his ex, isn’t simple. It’s deep. It’s dangerous to my sister’s happiness, and she will always be my priority.” Your best friend’s face is hard yet holds a fondness in it.

“I understand that, I wanted to leave earlier I just didn’t know when the right time was.”

“Now.” She stands up and crosses her arms as she faces you, “Now is the right time, Y/N. The longer you’re here the longer I have to worry about Yeoreum being left at the alter.”

“Eunseo he won’t-”

“Of course he fucking will, Y/N. He would leave my sister for you. That has been made perfectly clear.”

Wait. The argument Mr. Sim tore you away from, that’s what she was meaning. “What are you talking about?” You feign ignorance hoping she knows more than you do which seemingly it does. “What did he say?”

“He said enough. Look, Y/N,” She pinches her eyebrows, “I love you, and I know deep within me this isn’t your fault but please, go home. For me. For Yeoreum.”

You suck in your bottom lip to stop you from crying. If you lose Eunseo you’ll be right back to where you used to be, alone because of your own stupid mistakes. You rub your hands on your thigh and breathe out slowly, gathering your thoughts and calculating your next moves. There is animosity and hurt in the air and it breaks you. “Eunseo I-”

“I know, Y/N. But please. Don’t take Jake away from my sister.”

“What Jaeyun and I had, it’s so…” Pausing you stand and look at her, “It’s so difficult to explain. I don’t need you to forgive me, but please don’t tell anyone.” Your voice is above a whisper as you plead with her, “If you’re the only one who knows please keep it that way. He loves your sister and he is so happy. That is all I’ve ever wanted.”

A sorrow flashes over Eunseo’s face as you sob. No one in this world will understand the love between you and Jaeyun, not until they’ve experienced it themselves. You make your way around the room and gather your things, ready to leave him once again.

____

Unbeknownst to you, two doors down Heeseung and Jaeyun are having a similar conversation. You seem to be the topic of conversation the day before the wedding, just like Heeseung had warned you of.

Jaeyun is sitting on the bed Yeoreum refused to sleep in last night, his eyes tired as he tells Heeseung the details of what transpired last night. “She asked me not to marry Reum.” He breathes out slowly.

Heeseung’s body turns slowly, his eyes wide and head at a slant. His flabber has been gasted and as he looks at his best friend’s sullen look he only has one question. “And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?” Jaeyun’s voice is defensive like the answer should be obvious, but really he just wants to use this chance so Heeseung will tell him what to do. He loves you so much so that as soon as you asked him not to marry Yeoreum he almost instantly broke the wedding off. But he’s not that cruel, he knows there are too many people that will be hurt. If he really was going to call off this wedding he had to do it as respectfully as possible.

But did he even want to call off the wedding? Yeoreum needed him.

“I mean 'and' are you going to cancel the wedding?” Heeseung’s words prevent Jaeyun from answering internally. “Yeoreum isn’t exactly speaking with you right now, she was putting on a brave face in the club but look,” he gestures to the still-made bed, “She can’t even sleep in the same room as you. And you literally can’t see anything but Y/N when she’s around. I don't know what you said when you argued with her but it must have been bad.”

“I’m fucked, Hee.” Jaeyun plants his face into his hands and rubs vigorously into his eyes, trying to shake up his brain to make sense of it all. “Reum asked me yesterday after the walk if I would leave her for my ex.”

The sentence piqued Heeseung’s interest once again, and he wondered what his friend would have confessed. He doesn’t say a word, opting to slowly sit next to Jaeyun. “I-” Jaeyun starts to speak again, “I told her...” The pause is a cause of concern and Heeseung leans forward to try and make eye contact with Jaeyun.

“Jake do NOT tell me you told her you’d leave her high and dry for Y/N?” Heeseung’s hands are gripped to his knees as he holds his breath. The stillness and lack of response were enough of an indication of what happened for Heeseung to shut his eyes and sigh, “What the fuck are you thinking? That’s cold, mate.”

“I don’t fucking know, Hee. I love Yeoreum, she helped me over the past few years to finally get back to a state where I felt like part of myself again-”

“Do you love her?” Looking straight into Jaeyun’s eyes, Heeseung asks a question that has been on his mind since the moment he found out Jaeyun proposed. “Answer me this honestly, did you propose to her because you thought it would help you move on from Y/N? Or because you genuinely love her?”

Their eyes are communicating silently. That wasn’t true, he really loved Yeoreum and he wanted to marry her because they were in love, not because it felt like a fast-track way to get over you. Right? Jaeyun thinks hard.

“Let me tell you what I think.” The oldest speaks up again, “I think you asked her to marry you because you thought settling with her would make you forget about Y/N.” Jaeyun’s face scrunched up, confused by his best friend’s words.

“That’s no-”

“Answer me honestly, Jake.” Heeseung is trying his best to let Jaeyun see the truth, to finally put some sense into him. Jaeyun knows there has always been tension between his fiance and best friend, ever since they met it was like there was a wall between them no matter how many times Jaeyun tried to get them closer. But despite his quibble with Yeoreum, Heeseung wouldn’t say this for anything. And it’s not the first time he’s heard it either.

“You know I’ll support you, but you need to think about this. Think out what you truly want.”

He recalls a conversation he and his dad had with him a few weeks after he announced he was engaged.

“Son, this is pretty fast. Are you sure?” His dad kept a stoic expression and his tone of voice was stale. Jaeyun simply nodded and smiled before telling him ‘It’s what makes sense.’. With that, his dad heaved out a breath, “But is it what you want?”

“Of course it is!” Jaeyun’s voice was raised, “You don’t think I want to marry her? Why would I propose if I didn’t?” A knowing look from his father shut him up almost instantly.

“Jaeyun, listen to me seriously, marriage isn’t going to help you get over Y/N.” Jaeyun stands up. “Dad, I am over her.”

His dad shakes him by the shoulders, “You will never be over Y/N. And that’s okay, but that means this marriage to Yeoreum won’t make you forget, won’t help you the way you think it will. Seriously consider my words before this gets out of control.”

Heeseung waits for him to process his words, staying silent to give him time. He wanted nothing more than his best friend’s happiness. If you asked him a week ago, he would never have said anything, let Jaeyun go through with the marriage because at least he is somewhat content, finally living his life without you. But now that you’re back and he sees how obviously you and Jaeyun still crave one another, he needs Jaeyun to seriously think about tomorrow.

“Heeseung,” His breath catches in his throat before he utters the next words, “I need her.”

#aj writes #enha smut #enhypen smut #jake smut #jake sim smut #jake x reader #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #the next chapter is...#you're either gonna love it or hate it besties

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twstgarden · 9 months ago

Text

✿ ❝ 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗴𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗸𝗶𝗱 ❞

━ riddle rosehearts x gifted kid burnout! fem! reader ━ being a gifted child is not always deemed as a blessing, and riddle knows the feeling all too well. (f/n means first name)

requested by: @tangybiskit1 request type: oneshot requester’s message: Reader is like the perfect student.(not prefect) She gets full marks, optimistic, kind and charming to the point where even Riddle thinks his mother would like her. But after befriending her for a few weeks he decides to visit reader and her room is a mess, filled with books, scattered papers. It reminds Riddle of himself and you know how that turned out... So he tries to comfort her saying that she is good enough,(ending can be how you want) sorry if it's badly worded😭😭 this is my first time making a request.. florist’s note: oh wow, this hits close to home <3 anyway, thank you for the request, little one! ♥

this work contains spoilers from chapter 1, heartslabyul's arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

ko-fi here if you want to support me, commission are open

perfect. that was how people described you. a sweet, young lady with a bright smile and a bright mind. a lot of the students in night raven college liked you for your charming personality, and there was barely any student that had a bad experience with you.

perfect. you were the epitome of perfect. a beautiful young lady with a sweet smile, a charming personality, and a bright mind. who would not want to befriend you? some students even talked about you to their peers and their parents. now, it wasn’t always painted in a good light. some have been jealous of you, and some wished you did not exist at all. it makes them look bad, you know?

of course, riddle was one of those people. he greatly admired you for your dedication and hard work, and he takes great pride in having you as a heartslabyul resident. you were the perfect, ideal example of what heartslabyul students should be. you followed all the rules to a t, memorized every one of them, and never questioned or disobeyed the rules that may seem too extreme or ridiculous.

“ah, f/n,” spoke riddle as soon as he saw you in the library, a smile ghosting over his lips. his voice reached your ears as you looked up from your book and smiled at him, “oh… hello, dormitory leader rosehearts!”

that sweet smile.

riddle did not realise his cheeks were tinted pink as he remained smiling at you. he then walked away, not knowing what else to say or how to keep the conversation going. oh, how he wished he could befriend you. he was stuck in this student-to-student relationship with you, and he did not know how to deepen it.

it was going well, at least, that’s what he thought. he made sure he could interact with you at least once a day, to get the both of you used to each other’s presence. he also decided to join you at your table during lunch, eating with you without the need for a conversation. it did not take long until your relationship went deeper than the shallow interactions.

“by the way, riddle… why is your favourite food strawberry tarts?” you asked as you nibbled on a tart that he shared with you. as riddle took a bite of his own, he replied, “it’s sweet and rich with flavours. i rarely ever get to taste it when i was younger, but the one time i did felt like heaven was in my mouth…”

there was a small smile on your face as you listened to riddle. you knew what his household was like. you were there during the overblot incident, after all. “i mean, my mother did get angry at me for eating that… she told me it was too sugary and it’s poisonous for my health…”

unconsciously, your hand went up to his cheek as you caressed it for comfort. riddle also froze as soon as he felt the affection before glancing at you. you realised what you had done and quickly retracted your hand with a blush, “ah— sorry, sorry. i thought you needed some comfort.”

with you around, riddle always felt like he could continue to hold on and move forward. seeing your bright smile energizes him for the day, and seeing your name at the top of the achiever's list always brings a sense of pride from within.

“congratulations, f/n,” spoke riddle as soon as he saw you standing by the bulletin board. you had a blank expression on your face before smiling as soon as you heard his voice, “oh, thanks! congratulations to you, too.”

‘why do you look sad?’, thought riddle to himself as he noticed your blank expression before acknowledging him. were you not happy with what you got? but you received a 499 out of 500, surely, it’s worth a smile or two, no?

he decided to brush it off a little since you had already walked away, but it was in the back of his mind for a few days now. why did you seem bothered? he knew the importance of getting a perfect score, his mother reiterated that several times.

he did not speak much of it, but he did notice you getting a little distant, even if you are physically beside him. your mind seemed to be in another place every time he tried to discuss something with you. it was clear that something was wrong.

but he did not know how to approach the problem.

riddle tried accompanying you during study sessions, gifting you treats, sharing his tarts with you over lunch, doing mind exercises with you, and many other things. however, they only seemed to fix the problem temporarily.

exam season was around the corner once more, and everyone has been busying themselves with studying. riddle had spent his time studying, but of course, he did not neglect his duties as the dormitory head. as soon as the clock struck 3 in the afternoon, it was time for his patrol around the dorm. he had to make sure all his residents were disciplined and studying.

with one room into the next, he discovered all of them busying themselves with reading and discussing certain sections of their books with their roommates. ‘good work,’ thought riddle to himself as he saw his residents studying. he just hoped ace and deuce were doing the same.

as soon as he reached your room, he knocked on the door before twisting the knob and peeking in. he thought he would see you silently seated on your study table, reading through a book, or taking notes. however, he discovered you seated on the floor, a book on your lap as you wrote in your notebook, surrounded by several copies of papers and books.

you were in a clear state of disarray. your hair was a mess as you checked every paper before writing something down in the notebook. the process continued as you mumbled under your breath, “no, this is not right… the answer isn’t hydrolysis…”

a sigh escaped your lips as you buried your head into your palms, your hair covered your devastated expression as riddle silently walked into your room and knelt beside you, picking up all the scattered notes as you sniffled and glanced at him, “riddle…?”

you did not expect to see him in your room, and you quickly wiped your cheeks as you picked up the remaining scattered papers. riddle held the notes he collected and looked at you, seeing your cheeks, eyes, and the tip of your nose being tinted with a little bit of red from all the crying.

you were having a breakdown. he knew that much. he now noticed why you seemed absentminded and distant lately, especially with the exam season coming up. you were drowning yourself in your studies, making sure you memorized and remembered every single fact taught to you.

“…sorry you had to see me like this…” you mumbled as you grabbed the notes from him. he quickly shook his head as he spoke, “no… you don’t have to apologise. how long have you been cooped up in here?”

“i’ve been here all weekend…” you replied. you’ve been in your room, studying for two days straight without paying much attention to your other needs, and it was evident with the bags under your eyes. he hoped you were at least eating, but as he looked around your room, there were a few wrappers from the snacks you ate and an empty water bottle.

a sigh escaped riddle’s lips as he held his hand out to you, “you’re a mess. you need to eat… come.” you shook your head, which caused riddle to raise a brow, “f/n, all you’ve eaten were convenience meals with no proper nutrition whatsoever. don’t be stubborn and—”

“i don’t care!”

riddle fell silent in shock. did you just… yell?

you looked up at him, your eyes held glossy tears as you spoke, “i don’t care even if i starve for days! they’re worth nothing if i fail… this is our finals, and it will determine just how much i’m worth…” a soft sob escaped your lips as you bowed your head to hide your tears, “it will… determine how much my parents love me…”

riddle was silent. so, this is what hides behind the perfect f/n l/n. behind that sweet smile, charming personality, and bright mind was a little girl who never had the chance to be a child, to experience what it’s like to have fun, and to know what it’s like to have no expectations to live up to.

how lonely you must have felt.

“who cares if i’m physically well when i make a single mistake on the test? my mother cursed me through the phone as soon as she saw my results…” you mumbled, venting out everything that had happened the past few days, “i’m nothing but a useless brat who wastes their money in a prestigious school… i don’t deserve to be here if i can’t even get full marks to show that i’m learning something…”

riddle knew what it was like to have a parent who seeks perfection in their child, and it was only lately when he realised it was an unhealthy way of living, drowning yourself in your studies to ensure future success to the point you’d neglect yourself. he got closer to you, holding your shoulder as you wiped your tears, “if i fail the finals, they won’t let me continue my education…”

he was stunned. sure, a punishment is given when one does not receive the desired results on a test. that was his norm, too, but completely discontinuing your education because of 1 mistake or 2 on a test is extreme.

“what…? your parents would go that far…?” questioned riddle. you merely nodded in response as you wiped your tears and hugged your knees to your chest, “…everything feels like a chore…” riddle was left frozen, he did not know what to say or do as he never received appropriate support growing up.

he understands your pains, but he doesn’t know how to comfort you. he can’t lie and say it would be better because he knows that won’t do anything.

you have been showing the brightest smile he’s ever seen all the time, but who knew you were breaking piece by piece? all because of the expectations set on you. all because you were the gifted child of your parents, and therefore, you must live up to be the best of the best.

“sometimes i think… i should just stop… maybe if i fail several times, then they’ll leave me alone… but that also means i won’t receive their love and praises… and i won’t be their favourite daughter anymore…”

riddle stayed silent as he sat on the floor beside you, listening to you vent out all that had been stuck in your mind.

“but… sometimes i also think… if i ruin myself too much and fail… i’m worth nothing… who would love a worthless person? then i’ll be destined to be alone…” you cried softly as you kept hugging your knees to your chest, “i’m tired of thinking about this… i’m tired of caring so much… i’m tired of hearing all the curses that come out of my mother’s mouth… i’m tired of repeatedly being told that i am useless…”

the room then fell silent, and only your soft sobs broke the ice as riddle gently placed his hand on your hair. “…you’re not useless just because you got one or two questions wrong in a test…” mumbled riddle as you peeked at him with your face buried into your arms, “and… you’re not worthless. you don’t need to be perfect to be loved… you just need to be yourself.”

as you remained to look at him, you sniffled softly and wiped your tears, “…but…” riddle gave you a small smile, “i know what it feels like to know that everything we learned growing up and the things we are exposed to is wrong… you’ve been told that anything less than perfect is unacceptable, and i was taught the same thing…”

a soft sigh left his lips as he placed a hand on your cheek, the same way you did to him when he spoke of his reason for loving a sweet treat, “you were there when the incident happened, and i have learned my mistakes… now i am here to tell you that you are worth it. you’re not a financial burden, you’re not useless, you’re not stupid, you are none of that, f/n. i wish you could see yourself the way i see you… then you’ll understand why i always want to be around you…”

you were speechless. what could you possibly say in response to that? if you didn’t know any better, it felt like a confession disguised as comforting words. receiving no verbal response, riddle got a little embarrassed as he avoided your gaze, “… i said too much. i apologise—”

“no…”

riddle blinked before he glanced back at you, seeing you smile a little at him, “…i appreciate your words… thank you…” seeing that sweet smile, even if it was a small one, made riddle smile as well, “you don’t need to thank me… now, you need to have your lunch.” he stood up and held his hand out to you.

you held his hand and stood up, smiling at him as you were about to wipe any remaining tearstains on your face when his hand gently rested on your cheek, wiping it as he spoke, “i don’t want to see you neglecting yourself next time.”

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the-kr8tor · 11 months ago

Text

Seafoam on the shore

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Tags: Use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW drinking, CW food mentions, TW injury.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 1 >>> CHAPTER 2

You run as fast as you can, your feet flying off the muddy uneven streets. Huffing while a local copper yells at you to stop, his yells get more exhausted every second he chases after you. So far he isn't even near you, one of the few benefits of staying at a provincial fishing town is that the police are either too out of shape to catch you, their bellies round, definitely full of ale. Or they simply don't give a damn about a pickpocket, muttering to themselves how they're not paid enough to do a city cop's job.

Losing your balance, you silently curse at your worn down work boots. Sliding off the ground, skidding off down the streets, disturbing the hustle and bustle of the market. You hit a vegetable cart along the way, wood splintering, scratching your arms. Cabbages and carrots fly off, there's yelling and screaming around you and your legs are aching from the impact.

“Sorry!” You yell back to a disgruntled vendor.

He curses at you and your entire family for ruining his sale. You take a mental note to pay him back somehow when you're not currently occupied.

Digging your heels in, you come to a halt, you're lucky enough to get a hold on a lamp post. Glancing behind, you don't see the cop running after you but you're not taking any chances so you enter a tight alleyway. You know this village like the back of your hand, you have to or else seeing the inside of the jail would be waiting for you in the future.

Knowing there’s a pipe somewhere along the walls, you run your muddy hands along the bricks, the cramp walls touching your back and chest, you stop when your nail hits something metallic.

Your ears perk up at someone snitching, “fuck” without hesitation, you climb up the rusty pipe.

Hands digging into the metal. It creaks and groans, but it seems like lady luck is on your side when you reach the top with no problems.

Hearing hurried footsteps down below, you immediately lie low on the roof. Hiding yourself from his gaze. The cop glances around the alley, scratching his head, confused as to how you escaped without a trace.

“Damn” he mutters, completely winded.

You smile to yourself as he leaves. The sun bares at your back, cotton blouse sticking to your skin. Needing a bath is an understatement.

Standing up, you carefully tread the roof, avoiding floors that look damaged. You definitely don't want a repeat incident of what happened six villages ago. You can never get used to the view from up high, the sea blends in with the orange sky, melting together, blues, greens and reds mingle in harmony. The setting sun paints a picturesque scenery, draping everything it touches in its heavenly light.

Ships and fishing boats float above the waves as if they're dancing to the sound of the water splashing on its wooden sides.

Your hands instinctively reach for the necklace hidden under your blouse. Fingers tracing the etching of a flying bird that you know like the back of your hand.

Despite the open sea, you can't help but feel trapped. The docks beckon you over to somewhere you can't remember, somewhere where you can rest in peace, somewhere across the deep dark treacherous sea are people you can call your home. People who may have been looking for you all this time. Their faces are but a blur in your mind, voices a mere echo lingering in your heart. The pendant leaves a circular indent on your palms as you grip it tight.

Is it possible to miss someone you don't even remember?

Your train of thought gets interrupted by movement from a ship floating along the dock, a large sailboat whose wood differs from each one of its structures. You can tell from how some of it is painted gold and silver like the ones on royal ships, it looks like it was hastily hammered into regular oak with intricate carvings. Some wood blends better together, dark timber melding with ashen wood. Three cannons are lined on the sides, its metal having seen better days, no longer glimmering in the sunlight.

From where you're standing, the figurehead on the bow looks peculiar, like nothing you've ever seen traveling along coastal towns. A fierce creature with sharp teeth opening its jaws, eyes wide and alert. Its red scaly skin adds to its terrifying image. What's more peculiar is the lack of flag flying on its mast. An unknown ship from an unknown place tickles your curiosity.

You slink back down on the roof when a woman emerges from below deck, her blond hair shining under the sun. Another much taller one follows behind her. Raven colored hair flowing in the soft wind. They seem to be arguing, but you're completely bewildered as to how they're allowed to sail. All this time, you can't believe that you can actually step foot inside a boat, moreso sail on it.

This changes everything, you suppose.

You leave the roof, letting the women argue amongst themselves. Expertly hopping from awning to canopy, you land at your final destination, the White Salmon pub.

Jumping down, you land on a cart full of broken fishing nets, it's a miracle that you weren't tangled under all the mess.

Entering the rowdy pub, the smell of ale and pickled fish enters your nostrils. A bunch of sailors sing off key in the middle, too drunk to care about the ruckus they're making. You try to blend in with the drunk crowd, hiding behind people, weaving around them to sneak past the bar and upto the stairs leading up to your room.

“Oi! did ya think I wouldn't notice ya?”

You stop just about the foot of the stairs. Groaning in exasperation, quickly taking off the bandana tied around your face to conceal half of your face. You try your best to put your best smile, turning your charm up to a hundred.

“Hi, aunty Janet” you walk towards her like a child caught with their hands inside the cookie jar. “I got the butter you asked”

Janet huffs, eyes narrowed, her brows furrowed. You place the stick of butter in front of her like an offering to appease an angry God.

“Please don't tell me the coppers will be knocking on my doors again”

“That was one time! Besides I actually paid for this one” you push the butter towards her with your finger. She stares at it like you're giving her contraband.

You give her one charming smile, she sighs, taking the butter from the counter. “You're on thin ice, Y/N. Don't make me regret taking you in.”

“That was a year ago and look, I'm still here!”

“A year and a half, I counted because with every shit ya manage to pull, a strand of my hair turns white.” she points at her hair that's almost completely white. “This used to be black”

“I know, I'm sorry. I just need to–”

“To what? It always seems like you're hiding shit from me and Thena” She tries to hold your hand on the counter but you flinch away.

“Won't happen again, I promise.” A clear lie on your part, you'll just have to be better at sneaking. You vault over the counter to roll up your sleeves, clean yourself up and put on your apron.

“When will you learn, girl?”

“When the king sentences me to death himself!” grabbing an empty tray, you start clearing a nearby table. Janet pinches the bridge of her nose.

After dodging rowdy customers and a flying pint, Thena takes a break with you in the tiny corner of the tavern. She unabashedly sighs loudly, smelling of ale and lavender she hastily rubbed on to mask the scent of alcohol.

You side eye her with a tired smile, Thena sighs again, louder this time, a few patrons gaze your way.

“Alright, what's wrong?”

“Oh nothin' it's just Arthur's back again and he hasn't even glanced my way”

You flick your eyes towards the blonde patron nursing a pint, his green eyes meet yours, he smiles with his yellow teeth and you look away immediately, not from embarrassment, no, but from how you don't want his eyes on you.

Why in the world is Thena so smitten by someone like Arthur who comes and goes into the pub more than he goes inside a bathroom?

“You could do better, Thena. One that actually brings in coins instead of using them all in the pub or a brothel.”

“I know,” she sighs once again. Leaning closer to your side so you slide further away. “But he's the fittest bloke here though” whining, she puffs out her cheeks.

As if some divine comedy, Arthur beckons you over with a twist of his hand. You internally cringe.

Thena gasps, “I think he's finally taking notice of me!” She stands up, sauntering over to his table with the confidence of a newborn deer.

Before you could rescue her though, Janet yells at you from the other side of the room. “Get back to work, Y/N!” She signals with head, pointing towards a table by the corner.

You groan, lumbering your way towards the customers. His large back is turned away from you, brown hair neatly slicked back, clothes looking too neat and expensive for a dingy pub like the white salmon. His companion thumps her head on the wall lightly like she's trying to get water out of her ears. Her hair is cut short, glasses over her almond shaped eyes, clothes equally looking expensive but less neat than her large companion.

Her lips turn upwards once she sees you. “Finally some service” she stretches her legs out, noting how she's wearing trousers instead of the usual frilly skirts rich women wear.

“Sorry, what can I do for you?” You put on your customer service voice that's laced with mild annoyance. The man sits still like a rock, his back still turned away from you.

“Fish and chips, some pickled eggs and a pint.” She glances at her friend before groaning with a sly smirk. “And he'll have plain porridge, no seasoning, just porridge. It's better if it's days old. Right, Miguel?”

The man huffs, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. The single candle light on the table illuminates his chiseled face, turning his eyes crimson.

“A pint will do” his voice is gruff yet calm.

There's alarm bells ringing in your head, the tray falls from your shaking hands. Your heart thumps louder than the clanking metal.

“Careful there, it's bad to drink on the job” His friend’s comment falls on deaf ears as you stare at the man before you. His expression doesn't change except for how his eyebrows lift slightly.

It's been years, surely he doesn't recognize me as an adult, right?

You clear your throat, mustering the best smile you can do. “Sorry about that, I'll get your orders right away” leaning down to take the tray from the sticky floors, your necklace slips out of your blouse, the gold shimmering in the candle light.

He could burn you with just his stare.

Walking briskly, clutching the tray, its metal is uncomfortably cold on your skin. The pub seems to get louder and louder with every footstep, the laughter and rowdy singing makes you dizzy. Janet calls after you as you run up the stairs to your room.

Thinking fast, you lock the door, pushing your dresser to further lock it. Your mind races to the floorboards beneath your threadbare bed. With your bare hands you hastily take the wood out revealing a hollow hole containing your possessions.

There's loud booming footsteps climbing up the stairs. Followed by his voice calling your name.

“Fuck” without thinking, you take the bag from its hiding place, slinging it over your shoulder before you cross the small space to the window.

“Y/N, Please!” He keeps calling after you. “Let me just,” thump, “fuck!”

That's your signal to jump down.

Landing on your heels, you feel your knees aching from the fall. You hear your bedroom door slam open with a force that surely broke its hinges.

You run like you've ran from him like last time.

Suddenly, you're thirteen years old, weaving through the forest, vines prickling your legs as you wade through the thicket. White lilies are but a blur as tears flow freely from your eyes as you keep running without a destination.

Why? Aren't you enough? Did she not love you like you thought she did? What did you do to deserve being abandoned twice?

You're back to the present when he yells your name again. Your heart pounds loudly on your ribcage, lungs burning, you feel like you're about to collapse.

His companion also runs after you, screaming your name desperately.

But you have the upperhand. Using the moon as your guide, you climb up a house, its bricks protruding out of the walls, the place you used to climb to practice, but now you climb it to save your own skin.

Running from roof to roof, you feel a presence behind you. His thunderous footsteps echo into the cold night. You don't dare look behind.

The woman follows you from the ground, her heels clicking on the uneven sidewalk. “Y/N! Wait up–shit!” Without looking down, you hear her fall.

He screams your name again, the same one she called you back then.

You run furiously, jumping off the side only to keep running towards the docks. Panicking, you see a ship leaving the docks, its fishing net left hanging on the side. Without thinking, you make a break for it.

Sprinting on the old docks, you leap the huge gap. Miraculously, you take hold of the net, clinging to it with all your might. Entering the net, you ignore the smell of fish, watching as the place you once called home gets smaller and smaller.

You say goodbye to Janet, who kindly took you in without asking for anything in return. Who gave you a job and a room so you don't freeze and starve outside. Who took care of you when you fell ill to the cold.

You say goodbye to Thena, the only friend you've ever had, the longest friend you've ever had. The same Thena who taught you how to sew and mend your own clothes. Thena who taught you how to throw a punch when a handsy sailor tries to touch you.

Thena whom you've grown accustomed to calling you her sister.

You say goodbye to the fishing town you've only recently called your home.

You say goodbye to the man at the docks who's staring at your fleeing form, whose eyes are narrowed, almost pleading for you to come back.

A/N: There's no Hobie appearance in this chapter yet :( (next chapter though 👀)

Hope you like it, thank you for reading!

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razbrry · 2 months ago

Note

Grell's reaction if she found out that her s/o painted several oil paintings of her and walked in and seeing her s/o in the middle of painting a VERY huge one. Grell being her s/o's muse is just so cute!

(also can i say that you're cooking a BUFFET and that grell lovers including me and my friends, really love your headcannons?)

note— babe… you have no idea how late i am to this. BUT ANYWHO SHE’S BACK AND #READY! thank you so much for the kind words, it was a greatly needed boost! MWA!!!!!—☆💋🍰

having her as your muse— ft. grell sutcliff

she’d flip out

i just imagine her doing a backflip in surprise

jkjk…

she’s definitely capable of doing so though.

besides that, jaw DROPPED.

heart DROPPED.

you must’ve done this on purpose! what do you want?! SHE DOESN’T KEEP HUMAN CURRENCY!

“you— you made these?!”

with that tiny voice from her butler persona.

did you make these? i dont know, but you just happen to be painting on one of them.

the BIG canvas.

such BEAUTY! such TALENT! what PERFECTION!

(sorry, but if these paintings weren’t lf her, she’d think otherwise.)

she pushes you OUT OF THE WAY

to get a closer look!

we could swear she’s teleporting from painting to painting

and from one end to another of the center piece you’re currently progressing on—

a whopping 33 x 45 of her pointing her death scythe.

she is SQUEALING!!

down to the point of her teeth, to the shading and spike of the combination to her hair stands…

dashing, elegant, flashy!

mind you, she’s still skipping from piece to piece

look, you even gage her baps on this one! such generosity!

“aah! paint me like this next!”

and she’s strike some tacky in-the-moment pose that looks straight off of vouge.

besides her pitiful attempts, you cant help but feel a pooling warmth at your heart.

seeing grell so worked up and genuinely euphoric about your dedication to her is all you could ever ask for and more.

you’re going to give the poor lady a heart attack. she’s so worked up.

unfortunately for you, dearie, you’re set to be doomed for eternity after this discovery.

following after this incident, you’re cursed and bound to make art of grell and grell only.

and if she catches you painting anything else…

you better have those excuses ready to whip out!

“why are you painting a bloody plant?” “this is the plant that you uhm— lightly touched with your index finger yesterday… darling.”

#black butler #grell sutcliff #black butler manga #kuroshitsuji #grell sutcliff headcanons #grell x reader #black butler fanfiction #grell #grell black butler #black butler hcs #kuroshitsuji grell #black butler fandom #black butler headcanons #grell sutcliff scenario #grell kuroshitsuji #black butler grell #grell fanfiction

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dark-frosted-heart · 4 months ago

Text

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 13

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Roger: ——, ——, … ——, Kate. —...Hey, Kate.

The sound I heard coming from the other side of the fog suddenly became Roger’s voice coming from nearby.

Kate: Oh! Ah…Sorry, I spaced out.

It was only a short while after Victor had told us that the cursed Lance Brown had passed away.

The way it went was the last night when Lance was going to be arrested for murder, he went in a fit of rage and was shot to death on the spot.

Kate: …How did he get charged for murder? And the person he was accused of killing was—

~~ Flashback start ~~

Kate: Is she someone important to you, Lance?

Lance: Huh.

Kate: Ah, well…even with untrained eyes, I could tell a lot of care was put into the painting.

Lance: …Yes. The young lady is someone I like.

She works at a bakery near the studio…

~~ Flashback end ~~

(The lady Lance had a crush on)

Roger: Kate, let’s go.

Kate: Huh, where are we going?

Roger: The information we got from Victor was only the aftermath. We still don’t have details on what happened. If we go ask around the crime scene, we might be able to fill in the blanks on what happened. You, me, even Lance…We can’t just let this go.

(I was planning on investigating whether Lance was cursed or not with Roger)

(And after that, I was going to speak with him on finding ways to make Lance’s life easier…)

(I can’t just let it end like this)

Kate: Okay…Let’s go, Roger.

When we went to the scene of the crime from last night, we were lucky to be near a bar Roger regularly went to.

(He brought me here once…)

I asked the familiar barkeep about last night…

Barkeep: Last night’s incident? Yeah, I saw what happened. Was curious.

Roger: That was fast. Hey barkeep, can you tell us what you saw last night?

Barkeep: Sure, but it’s not a nice story y’know? Might be a bit much for the young lady here.

(If you know what happened to Lance…)

Kate: It’s fine. Please tell us.

Barkeep: Well if my favorite customer and the lovely young lady are asking, then I suppose telling a bit won’t hurt. Let’s see…it was around 22:00 last night when it happened. I was making a drink when I heard a scream from outside. Curious, I ran out to see what happened. Then, I saw a girl with red hair bleeding out in the alley ahead.

(Young lady with red hair…It definitely was the one in the paining)

Roger: Do you know if the girl was still breathing at the time?

Barkeep: She was dead. At least that’s what others who came to check it out said. And that’s where the story begins.

The barkeep leaned over and lowered his voice.

Barkeep: A young man stood next to the girl who bled out, his mouth smeared with blood.

Roger: Smeared with blood? Was he hurt too?

Barkeep: No, it was definitely the girl’s blood.

(No way…)

Kate: That young man…Did he have blonde hair and hazel green eyes?

Barkeep: Yeah, he did. So you know him.

(It really was Lance and the girl in the…)

(What happened between those two?)

Barkeep: Soon, more people came by to see what happened and the scene became complete chaos. The police hadn’t arrived yet and people started crowding around the young man.

~ Flashback ~

Male spectator: Hey you, did you kill this girl…?!

Lance: I-I didn’t do it! I was just trying to watch her pass by from my studio on the second floor over there. And then…I saw someone dragging her into this alleyway. Then…When I came running over…

Male spectator: Then what’s that on your mouth? Why is it stained with blood!

Lance: This…

Lance desperately tried to defend himself.

However, the accusations grew louder before the police arrived.

In that moment—One of the spectators exclaimed:

Female spectator: Killing someone and sipping their blood is just disturbing. Like a monster…

Lance: …

In that instant, Lance went speechless, as if something within snapped.

And then tears poured down his cheeks.

Lance: I didn’t…do anything.

~Flashback end~

Barkeep: …He continued arguing with the people around before the police finally arrived. Then, something weird happened.

Kate: …Something weird?

Barkeep: The guy suddenly went nuts and started hugging the police. Each officer hugged fainted on after another. The ones that managed to get away shot him before he could hurt anyone else.

(...Sudden hugs)

The same thing happened when Lance was arrested at the butcher’s shop.

(Did Lance…use his ability to get himself killed?)

(...That definitely has to be it)

Roger: …

Barkeep: Ah, I remembered another thing. He said something like…

~ Flashback ~

Lance: I really…didn’t do anything. But…yeah…I am…a monster. When I see you, my beloved…I just want to eat you up… I still want to sip your blood…even after you’ve taken your last breath. Still…Maybe it’s better for me to die.

(He wanted to eat…the person he liked…?)

In this case it wasn’t a euphemism for love, but literally his intent.

Roger: —Could it be that… His cursed sin is…cannibalism?

(...No way)

But when you think about it, it would make sense why Lance was eating meat in the butcher’s shop, as if to misdirect it.

(He really is a Cursed One)

Barkeep: These days you hear a lot of young men and women get attacked or go missing. Did the young man do all this? Too bad the police killed him before questioning him.

(That was the full story…)

In the end, he was no longer a part of this world—

Of the little memories I had of Lance, one short conversation came to mind.

~~ Flashback ~~

Lance: I’m just happy watching her from here.

…If I just watch her, my love won’t hurt her.

~~ End flashback ~~

(Lance was aware of his desires)

(That’s why he was smiling, happy to just watch so that he wouldn’t hurt her)

(He tried to save the person he loved and then that happened)

(...This is like)

Roger: “‘Cursed One’s’ tragic fate can’t be altered. In the past, there have been no exceptions.” That’s so true, it makes me laugh.

I looked at Roger when his shoulders shook.

Kate: Um, Roger…

???: Hey, hey. A man dressed in all white with a nice smile and parted bangs just told me something. You were talking about the murder from last night.

(Huh…?)

I turned around and saw a stranger leaning against the counter with a smile.

(...All white and parted bangs? Was it…)

I looked around, but the person I had in mind was nowhere to be found.

Kate: And you are…

Nicholas the novelist: Just some insignificant novelist called Nicholas. And these are…

Michael the playwright: Michael, a playwright.

Joanna the caricaturist: Joanna, a caricaturist.

Barkeep: Ah, these three are people of culture who are regulars here. They like to stick their noses in other people’s business.

Nicholas the novelist: We have to! We’re always looking for inspiration for our works. Man tries to eat a girl with red hair. It’s like the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood.

Joanna the caricaturist: Don’t lump this together with a childish fairytale like Little Red Riding Hood. It’s an insult to a sensational incident.

Michael the playwright: A bloodstained girl and a man standing over her in shock. Aha, I have an idea!

(...Why are they so happy?)

(Oh right, Roger mentioned something yesterday…)

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: You know why these have become known as “Fairytale Curses”. Novelists and playwrights around the world created works based on existing “Cursed Ones”.

It’s said to be what started them off.

(Though I get where they’re coming from, I can’t understand their indiscretion…)

In the past, many fairytales created were based on the tragic ends of the Cursed Ones.

And perhaps, a new fairytale will be born tonight.

Seeing the moment when a “fairytale curse” would be born made my head spin.

(I know people are free to create what they want and no one can fault them for that)

(But to do so when someone just left this world…)

Michael the playwright: I hope more tragic incidents happen. That way I can create the best stage performances!

Nicholas the novelist: More material for our works! Haha, just kidding!

(...)

In that moment, as if to cut off their laughter, Roger slammed his mug down on the table.

Roger: They didn’t die to be a spectacle for you lot.

(Roger…)

The place fell completely quiet and the three put on fake smiles.

Michael the playwright: Ah, erm…

Nicholas the novelist: Um…We didn’t mean to make fun of people’s deaths.

Joanna the caricaturist: That’s right. Just having jokes at a bar.

Roger: —Just kidding.

Roger smirked.

Michael the playwright: …Huh?

Roger: You were starving for stimulation, so I thought I’d surprise you.

Michael the playwright: …Wha What the heck! You scared me!

Roger: Ahaha, sorry.

(Wha…!)

Michael the playwright: That performance was so real. Want to join my troupe?

Nicholas the novelist: You can scout later. Let’s have a drink as thanks for surprising us!

Roger: Yeah, sure.

While I was at a loss for words, Roger threw his arm around Nicholas’ shoulders.

(I can’t watch this anymore!)

Kate: Roger…

Roger: Hmm?

Roger downed his beer and ruffled my hair.

Kate: Stop…

Roger: We heard what happened. The investigations’s over so there’s no point in digging any deeper.

I’m still not convinced

And you’re okay with that?

I don’t think that’s how you truly feel +4 +4

Kate: I don’t think that’s how you truly feel.

Roger: …Geez. Don’t worry about it and drink. Ah, remember not to drink too much.

As he ordered another beer, Roger looked the same as usual. Unwavering and without hesitation.

My heart ached at that.

(Even if you say it’s over and that there’s no point)

(I’m just…simply not convinced)

(Maybe…If we told Lance “you’re a Cursed One”, would things have changed?)

That’s all I could think about. I couldn’t taste the alcohol at all.

—A few hours later.

Kate: Huh, where did Roger go…?

I was ignoring Roger while sipping my drink, and the next thing I knew, he was gone.

Barkeep: Saw him head out a while ago. Maybe he went to get some air.

(Outside? But…)

The rain that had just begun to fall wet the windows.

(What’s he doing out there in the rain…)

Kate: I’m going to go check on him really quick.

Barkeep: Take an umbrella with you if you’re heading outside.

Kate: Thank you.

I didn’t see Roger anywhere near the bar so I went out looking for him with the umbrella the barkeep lent me.

Kate: …It’s raining a lot.

Fine mist blew in the wind with the rain and I peered down alleyways while clutching the umbrella when…

(Ah…I found…him)

(...Roger…?)

There Roger stood, alone in the rain, without an umbrella.

(I’ve never seen him look like that before…)

His expression looked so fragile, as if wandering alone in a deep, foggy forest.

(...)

When I saw his profile, I instantly realized that I had been mistaken.

(...Why)

(Why did I think…that Roger was okay?)

(Maybe I thought…Roger was satisfied)

(There’s no way Roger would not be frustrated when he’s been confronting curses for so long)

(If we had told Lance about Cursed Ones at the time…there wouldn’t have been regrets)

I quietly set my umbrella aside and looked up at the pitch black sky with Roger.

(...Ah, I see)

(For his entire life, Roger’s been fighting this endless battle against despair)

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: When you first became Fairytale Keeper, you told me about how crushed you felt by your own weakness.

“I won’t despair”.

Kate: …Yes. I remember.

Roger: Even though you felt depressed, it was sweet seeing you keep looking forward and not give in to despair.

I also believe that in life is to give despair the finger.

Kate: Give despair the finger?

Roger: Yeah. I went through the trouble of being born. I’m not gonna give into despair so easily.

~~ End flashback ~~

I always thought that he was someone strong who could laugh at despair as if it was nothing.

(That’s why I had this simple-minded admiration for Roger…)

(Roger isn’t strong)

(...He’s a person who was trying to be strong)

(I’ve been by your side, but...just what was I looking at?)

Roger knew despair and he took my hand.

Even now, he stayed by my side and watched over me.

(...)

I took a step forward to run toward Roger.

But I couldn’t take the next step.

(If I run over to him, it would just be for self-satisfaction)

Otherwise Roger wouldn’t have been standing out here alone in the rain like this.

(But if I was allowed to)

(If I ran over to Roger…)

(I’d hug him)

There was a faint sound in my chest like rainfall.

(...Hug…him?)

(...)

That heartrendingly sweet sound was…

Kate: …I…

I clutched my hands over my heart.

—I returned to the bar unnoticed.

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