#ive had this in my head for days finally i get to release them into the wild | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aurianavaloria · 7 months ago

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KoH - What Good May Come (Baldwin IV x Reader)

Fandom: Kingdom of Heaven

Pairing: Baldwin IV x Fem!Reader

PoV: Mixed/Split (Tiberias - Fem!Reader - Baldwin)

Length: Long (8k+ words! 😬)

TW: Vague mentions of disfigurement/leprosy

A/N: FINALLY, I've finished the Y/N fic that was voted on so long ago in this poll. Since the results were fairly close, I simply eliminated the least-voted option and went with a combination of the rest. 😁I've tried my best to keep Y/N truly generic, although she is female; in all other ways, though, it was my hope to make her vague enough that readers could envision whomever they liked in whatever universe/version of the story they wished. Backstory and circumstances are also left as vague as possible. As far as personality, I tried to go with what seemed most popular in general, again in an attempt to appeal to the widest audience. I sincerely hope you enjoy, and thank you all for being awesome! 🤗

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“She adores you, you know.”

It was these words from Tiberias that broke the silence between king and vassal – a companionable one… one born from years of acquaintanceship that had seen both parties through their fair share of strife and misunderstandings. A type of camaraderie perhaps only two leaders in their position could comprehend and be satisfied with.

The Count of Tripoli watched as his liege-lord’s attention was drawn from the bright Jerusalem outdoors into which he was all but forbidden to emerge. Watched as eyes as blue as the sky Tiberias knew was above drifted to his own. One was clouded, now – a sign of impending blindness. But Tiberias remembered well when both possessed such a clear and sharp forget-me-not stare, bidding all who beheld their gaze to indeed forget them not…

“I beg your pardon, Raymond,” the king replied, the silver mask he wore slightly muffling carefully-chosen words, smooth as the waters of the Jordan. “My thoughts have wandered, as they often do these days, and I am uncertain as to whom you refer.”

The smallest of laughs escaped Tiberias’s lips as they briefly twisted into a half-smile – a response to His Majesty that perhaps only he could get away with. He swirled what remained of the deep claret wine in his goblet, leveling his gaze at the king over the rim; the Count had known his lord since before he had come of age, and no amount of masks could cover the fact that Baldwin IV of Jerusalem was always aware of more than he pretended.

“Forgive me for my lack of clarity, my lord,” Raymond answered wryly. “I speak of Lady Y/N.”

“Ah, yes.”

Baldwin’s response was accompanied by the slightest nod, silver shimmering with the movement as it caught a sunray. His eyes fell to the chess pieces that functioned not as part of an actual match between them, but merely an occupation for restless hands. Particularly the king’s. Gloved in white, one of those half-numb hands still somehow moved with grace, a slender finger perched atop the head of a knight, resting upon the carved arch of the stallion’s mane.

Tiberias noted the short answer, half-sighed. No doubt His Majesty’s thoughts continued where his lips dared not to go, if the Count knew him as well as he thought he did…

“She speaks of you fondly and often,” Raymond added, sipping of the wine. “I believe she is single-handedly determined to bring your presence back into court by mention of your name and titles alone.”

White fingers released the knight. “The court is far too vicious a place for as good a soul as hers,” Baldwin said at length, sitting back in his chair, another sigh escaping him like the hiss of steam behind his mask as he glanced away. “Lately, I have been thinking of what to do with her. It is increasingly obvious there is no place for her here. Not amongst these vultures.”

“Oh?” Tiberias’s brows arched high. “Isn’t there?”

“No. There is not.”

At that, the Count’s lips pressed together as he leaned forward, setting his goblet on the chess table and folding his hands in his lap. “My lord, surely you aren’t thinking of sending her away. Not from here, where she has found joy despite everything.” He caught his liege’s gaze as it returned to him, adding pointedly, “Where you have found it.”

“My joy is irrelevant,” Baldwin replied flatly. “And as for hers...” he paused, and Raymond could see the king’s throat bob past his bandages. “It will not persist. It is best she seek it elsewhere, before that which she has found here meets its inevitable end.”

The corner of the Count’s mouth twitched. “You, or Jerusalem?”

“I am Jerusalem,” the king answered simply.

Tiberias glanced away, closing his eyes for a moment as silence stretched between them. The Count in him knew that Baldwin was, in a way, correct. Disaster loomed on the horizon – a kind of calamity from which they might not return, and it would most assuredly begin with His Majesty’s death. If the physicians were right and not being overly generous in their assessment, then the king had less than a decade left in his short life. And imbeciles like Guy de Lusignan seemed determined to shorten it further. Yes, she would be safer – and perhaps happier in the long term – elsewhere…

Yet there was something so terribly tragic about it all that Tiberias couldn’t help but feel sympathy grow in his heart for the boy. Yes boy. He hadn’t even had the chance to grow a man’s whiskers on his cheeks before that damned disease had twisted his face almost beyond recognition. And Tiberias had seen it all. Even through the at-times frustrating trials of Baldwin’s kingship, the Count of Tripoli had watched as the golden-haired warrior of sixteen years had wasted away into this silver-faced specter that had become far too wise, far too young…

…but he had also watched those specter’s eyes glow with a long-absent light the moment Y/N had stood before him. For a fleeting instant, he had once again seen the eyes of a younger king, reminiscent of past joys and glorious victories.

Baldwin would extinguish that light in an instant for her sake, romantic fool that he was. Or perhaps it was Raymond himself who was the fool, as he thought of Y/N and how she, too, had been drawn to the king the moment they’d met. How such a precious creature, so rare upon this Earth, had fallen into such a deadly trap… and now it seemed, like a snared rabbit, her only option was to chew off her own limb before the hunter found her.

How to rescue them both from such a fate?

“The girl is in love with you, my lord,” he began after a moment, his voice a growling murmur. “To send her away would break her heart. It would destroy her.” He shook his head, meeting the king’s stare with his own. “As it would you, and you know it.”

“What would you have me do, Tiberias?” Baldwin asked, Raymond’s more familiar moniker finally coming out now that the Count’s words had pierced past the royal façade. “To let her stay will cause her only despair, and that will destroy the both of us as well. And I cannot be that selfish to such a benevolent soul.” Tiberias heard a long exhale behind the mask as the king cast his eyes to the ceiling, as if searching for answers amongst the lofty vaults. “Were it not for this disease I would ask her father for her hand and devote my life to her as her husband before the altar of God. But I am a leper, and I am forbidden that.” The pale gaze that returned to the Count’s was a haunting one now, as if all the ghosts of Purgatory screamed through it for salvation. A mirthless laugh followed, a dark sound born of darker thoughts. “It seems I can do nothing else but waste away before her very eyes. So tell me, my wise vassal – if I cannot protect her from what is to come, what is it that I can do?”

A flicker of a smile crossed Tiberias’s lips. “Love her, my lord. As I know you already do.” He paused, propping his elbows on the table and rubbing his sword-calloused hands together as he thought.

“It’s the whole reason for your self-flagellation, is it not?” he continued after a moment. “This talk of sending Y/N out of Jerusalem – your crown tells you one thing, but your heart tells you another, and for the first time you want to toss the crown by the wayside, and that makes you fear you are an incompetent king. So you pick up the crown again in hopes it will crush the heart, and perhaps the love along with it.”

Another sigh, the lids of the king’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I only wish to do what is right, Tiberias. It is what I have striven for my entire life, and I will not abandon such principles now. If it means my own suffering, so be it. And as for her,” his eyes opened once more, latching to Raymond’s, “tell me what good may come from the love of a leper.”

This time, it was the Count who sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Peace. Mercy. Comfort. Everything you have brought to this kingdom.” He crossed an ankle over his knee, peaking his fingers. “You cannot know that a little cruelty now will not hurt her any less than what will come later. But you do know that loving her can only bring happiness to you both in the present moment – and that is what she lives for. Not the future.” He cocked his head at the king. “There is nothing wicked in what she desires. Nor in what you wish for her. The both of you want nothing more than the other’s well-being. How can that be anything but right?”

Raymond saw Baldwin’s throat bob again, the mask shimmering in the sunlight as he shifted in his seat, first looking down towards the floor, then back to the illuminated arcade.

“How shall I court her, then?” he inquired at length, his voice softer, cynicism at last yielding to tender warmth. “How to show her this affection of mine without forever staining her honor?”

Tiberias’s jaw worked as he thought for a few moments in silence. “If you wish to be discreet, my lord, I believe I may assist in this matter.”

It was then, as Baldwin returned his attention to the Count, that the latter saw a glimpse of boyish mischief sparkling in his liege’s eye. “I would trust no other to the task.”

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“My lady, a courier flagged me down today and told me to give you this.”

Your lady-in-waiting approached, holding out a small wrapped parcel.

“What is it?” you asked, interest piqued.

The handmaid shook her head. “I have no idea, my lady. The courier didn’t say.”

You felt your brow furrow as you took the parcel in hand. The fabric was fine, but not terribly so – a soft cream color, tied with a simple yellow ribbon.

“Hmm. I wonder who it is from.”

“He didn’t say that, either,” your companion commented.

Curiosity mounting by the second, you decided to succumb to the impulse to open the parcel, tugging at the ribbon. Casting it aside, you pulled back the corners of the fabric to reveal a folded piece of parchment, within which had been tucked something slightly weighty…

Merely tilting the parchment to the side let the object slide free into your waiting palm, and you couldn’t stifle the gasp that escaped you. There, in your hand, lay a lovely brooch, sparkling in the sunlight that streamed in from your window. A small disk of gold, swirling floral patterns weaved across its surface and wound about its edge like vines of roses. At its center was set a sapphire cabochon, polished and glimmering, and from its bottom edge hung a single creamy white pearl, like a teardrop in shape.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!”

The words came from your lady-in-waiting; you were too busy still holding your breath as you took in the details of this exquisite piece. You ran a finger over the filigree and atop the smooth stone in wonder. Who could have possibly gifted you something so beautiful and why?

As if reading your mind, your fellow courtier prompted, “Maybe the parchment says who it’s from.”

Finally remembering to breathe, you nodded, carefully unfolding the small piece of vellum to see a tight, neat script, punctuated with neither signature nor seal:

You will never know how much light you bring into the lives of others. It is my only hope that this small token of my regard brings a measure of light into yours.

This time, it was both you and your handmaiden who gasped in unison, barely stifling squeaks of girlish delight as you exchanged looks with one another.

“You, my lady, have an admirer!”

In awe, you stared at the parchment, reading the words over and over again. But who could have possibly written them?

“So it seems,” you replied at length, running a thumb across the surface of the brooch.

“Well,” your comrade continued, straightening and putting her hands on her hips, “that will give you plenty to talk about at the feast tonight.”

Your brow furrowed. “Feast?”

She nodded with a grin. “Yes, feast! Princess Sibylla arranged it. Perhaps you’ll find your mysterious admirer amongst the guests there, hmm?”

At that, you could only blink for a moment, your thoughts a whirlwind in your mind. Of all the things to find in Jerusalem, you hadn’t quite expected an admirer to be one of them…

“I’m not sure whether to be frightened or excited by the prospects,” you finally replied honestly, a nervous chuckle following your words.

“Oh, lady,” your handmaid admonished, swatting a hand playfully at your shoulder. “It will be quite fun, I’m sure. The princess’s functions are always lighthearted affairs, or so I hear. I imagine there will be dancing and merry music aplenty. Just plan to enjoy yourself, and if something – or someone – intriguing comes along…” she trailed and winked.

You tried to fight the blush that sprang to your cheeks, but to no avail, leading your handmaid to laugh heartily. “Ah, my lady. By your leave, I must see to a few things before evening falls, but I will return to help you get ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, giving a nod of assent. “Of course.”

With that, the lady-in-waiting dipped into a polite curtsey and left, closing your chamber door gently behind her and leaving you to your increasingly-anxious thoughts. Your attention returned to the parchment and brooch – both were fine indeed, indicating that, whoever your admirer was, they were certainly someone of status. Yet there was a certain practicality to both; the author’s penmanship was practiced and elegant, but not overstated, and the brooch itself was obviously expensive, but neither was it overly extravagant.

It was also a rather fitting gift, considering you had only just lost your old one on the way to Jerusalem…

And then it hit you.

It can’t be…

Your heart began to beat harder in your chest as it all came to you in a rush. Yes, you’d lost your beloved brooch on the long journey to Jerusalem – one of your last remaining ties to your homeland. A silly thing to get upset about, you told yourself later on, and yet the loss of it affected you even after your arrival at court. Nevertheless, no one up until that point knew besides your lady-in-waiting. And there was only one Jerusalemite native to whom you had confided that little detail.

The king.

Your mouth ran dry as you remembered the instance as clearly as if it had been yesterday. It was only your third day at the palace, and you’d yet to become accustomed to its maze-like halls. Couple that with your fascination with the local architecture, and that led you to places, in hindsight, you probably ought not have tread. Yet no one stopped you, even as the number of palace guests thinned and you emerged upon a quiet, sunlit terrace…

…only to run right into a tall man in white.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that you’d plowed headlong into the king himself – quite embarrassing that. In fact, you were so mortified that you were sure you would die of it on the spot, even as you apologized profusely with the deepest curtsey you could manage on weak legs.

To your surprise, however, not even the slightest admonishment came from him. Instead, he chuckled, the sound muffled by the mask he wore. That caused you to look up, still frozen in your curtsey, and that was when you saw the bluest eyes you’d ever seen in your life looking back at you, their squinted corners evidence of a smile behind the almost-angelic visage of silver.

You smiled back nervously, at which point he bid you to rise, assuring you that you had done nothing wrong. An awkward introduction followed, during which you admitted that curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you praised the well-kept grounds and the lovely accommodations you’d been given…

As it so happened, however, he already knew precisely who you were from your name alone – where you were from and why you’d come to Jerusalem. Whether he had gleaned this information from spies or the rumor mill of the court, you weren’t certain, but the more he spoke, the more difficult it became to keep the flabbergasted look off your face. And along with that astonishment came the slightest bit of fear – if he knew this much about you, how much did everyone else know?

Despite your best efforts, though, you must have been unable to keep your face expressionless, as that was when he had invited you to his chambers to speak further in private.

To say you were surprised by such an offer was something of an understatement; it was the last thing you expected to hear after what had just transpired between you, especially from a king to a freshly-acquainted subject. And yet you found yourself quite unable to decline even out of modesty. For one thing, declining the offer of a king seemed most imprudent, and for another…

…well, you were actually rather curious about His Majesty, unwilling to end the encounter just yet.

So you followed him, marveling at him all the while. You knew he was a leper – that was something you’d been informed of before you’d departed for the Holy City – but that didn’t frighten you. You had seen lepers where you were from, and they hadn’t frightened you, either. You also knew the mask was meant to hide the deformities beneath. In fact, it was the presence of that mask that had led you to guess the identity of its owner before it was ever confirmed by his lips – it was a symbol as powerful as a crown. None of that was what had drawn your curiosity; you were motivated neither by morbid fascination nor a sense of pity.

No, it was his astonishingly-welcoming demeanor that had you almost spellbound. The easy willingness to listen and to forgive. The quiet, yet poised decorum. You’d known men and women alike with rank much lesser than his who possessed a cold and domineering manner that was immediately off-putting to almost everyone around them. Yet here was the king of this realm, conversing politely with a lady who had merely lost her way.

Already you had learned volumes about his character, and he’d barely spoken at all.

He had posted guards, you noted, but they kept their eyes straight ahead as you passed them, following King Baldwin into his private quarters. It was a mighty struggle, but you managed to resist the urge to succumb to the eye-wandering that had gotten you into this situation to begin with. Instead, with the same discipline of his guardsmen, you glued your gaze to his back, occupying yourself by mentally tracing the subtle patterns in his coat of white damask silk.

Ultimately, he offered you a seat, and as you accepted with another curtsey, he sat himself a respectable distance away, only the slightest stiffness of his limbs betraying his condition as he settled into the chair opposite you. In fact, you could imagine he occupied his throne in much the same manner as he leaned back, both white-gloved hands curving over the ends of its arms. A servant, unbidden, came forth out of the shadows with a fresh cup of wine, which you took with a polite nod. The man then retreated as quietly as he had arrived, disappearing beyond sheer curtains of pale fabric.

And then, you talked.

It was mostly he who asked the questions, and you answered them as best as you were able; you weren’t brave enough to ask him much of anything, and so you settled for what small bits of information he voluntarily divulged over the course of your conversation. All in all, it was a relatively light discussion. He mostly inquired about your homeland and of your journey – of whether you had experienced any hardships or had witnessed anything of interest on your way to the Holy City, and if you had troubles acclimating to Jerusalem. It was during this exchange that you revealed the caravan’s run-in with thieves… how they had stolen what small bit of jewelry you possessed, sneaking in and out of the tents of the pilgrims and vanishing into the desert night before anyone could catch them.

You only offhandedly mentioned the brooch as the one piece you had any sentimental attachment to. In all honesty, you weren’t even sure if he had been listening at that point, as he had closed his eyes for a long time. You thought perhaps he might even have fallen asleep for a moment; if so, you couldn’t blame him, as you knew his condition was exhausting – you couldn’t imagine dealing with it on top of everything else expected of a king.

It was also quite possible that you were boring the poor man out of his mind with your lengthy and rambling answers, and he was simply too polite to cut you off.

Yet if what your gut was telling you was right, then he had indeed been listening, and far more closely than you could ever have realized…

You hadn’t known, however, at the time. Instead, you’d felt increasingly self-conscious as his eyes opened again, their gaze meeting yours with a piercing stare. Truly, it was as if he was looking through you rather than at you as you turned the conversation to lighter matters – mostly all the wonderful sights you’d seen since arriving in the Holy Land, especially Jerusalem itself. Your observations seemed to please him, and he voiced his gladness that you were, for the most part, enjoying yourself. You’d thanked him for his hospitality, and it wasn’t long after that the discussion ended, king and subject cordially parting ways with nod and curtsey.

Little did you know that one meeting would soon turn into two. Then three. Then more.

Somehow, a few days after your unexpected first encounter, you ran into him again in the garden – though, thankfully, not literally this time. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he once more invited you to further conversation in private, and again you accepted. This time, he inquired if you knew the game of chess, and to your surprise (and secret amusement) he appeared rather pleased when you affirmed that you did. He then promptly challenged you to a match, to which you heartily agreed. Yet even though you were handily beaten, it was an enjoyable game, and you found yourself acquiescing to a future rematch.

It wasn’t long before these games became almost a routine part of your afternoon, save for the days when His Majesty was busy with his council or holding court. And it was during the course of these games that you realized just how lonely he must have been. For the more games you shared, the fewer of them were seen to completion; far more time was spent talking with the board sitting untouched between you than it was actually playing.

He never kept you longer than you desired to stay, and certainly never more than was appropriate for an unmarried lady such as yourself. In fact, he seemed to leave the coming and going mostly to you. Yet you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, their corners crinkling with a smile you couldn’t otherwise see. It broke your heart that he spent so much of his days, outside his duties, in near-isolation, when he was such a thoughtful, inquisitive, and intelligent soul… such a joy to converse with. And so you’d been sure to praise these qualities amongst your fellow courtiers whenever the chance arose…

It had only just occurred to you in the middle of a recent sleepless night that the reasons behind your persistent compliments might have run a bit deeper than the simple desire to keep his spirit alive in the court he barely saw.

You couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up when your eyes met – those eyes that you couldn’t quite decide were more like the sea or the sky. And it wasn’t just the content of his speech you enjoyed, but the way he delivered it… with a voice that was so easy to listen to for hours on end, so reflective of his serene and introspective nature.

And then there were the times, when he accidentally fumbled the pieces, that your fingers and his gloved ones nearly touched. When you both reached for the fallen pawn only for one of you to swiftly withdraw, each time followed by a soft chuckle. But you couldn’t ignore the sensation that charged the atmosphere, like the feeling that permeated the air just before a storm, and your heartbeat was the warning thunder in your ears…

You shook your head, your thoughts returning to the present as you rubbed your thumb over the brooch’s smooth gem. It was then that the tiniest doubt began to tickle and nag at the back of your mind. What if it wasn’t him at all? What if it was merely a coincidence? Something your heart foolishly yearned for, but that your mind knew well would never happen?

A frown pulled at your lips. Baldwin had proven to be someone to whom you could speak about almost anything without fear of reprisal. Nothing you had confided in him had ever escaped the bounds of his chamber – and there was plenty you had discussed, especially lately. Even if he hadn’t sent this jewel, you could trust him to advise you with wisdom. And despite his relative absence from court, there was no one who knew its members better…

By the time your handmaid returned to help you prepare for the evening, you’d made up your mind.

“I shall wear the blue bliaut tonight. To match this lovely brooch.”

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Even past the bandages of thin linen and the silken veil covering his ears, Baldwin could still hear the distant strains of music floating through the palace’s long and lonely corridors… the latest in Sibylla’s efforts to keep the place lively even as its king slowly wasted away, out of sight and out of mind.

He could have made a surprise appearance, he supposed. He did that on occasion, whenever he felt particularly energetic, much to his physicians’ chagrin. It was mildly intriguing to see what kind of looks he would receive and from whom– though by this point, those expressions and their bearers had become almost boringly predictable. Fear and awe were ever present, manifesting in the form of slackened jaws and widened eyes and hushed whispers behind hands and veils. Rarer looks of disgust and revulsion were always quickly covered by feigned indifference. Then there were those especially-bold souls who dared to reveal their open contempt in their thinned lips and narrowed eyes.

It was pity, however, that he despised the most.

Dread, loathing, hatred – these were all traits with which any monarch could be clothed whether they wished to or not. Such was the burden of leadership. But pity…

Pity was a mantle that was distinctly his to wear.

Every time he saw it in the faces of those who looked upon him, he was reminded that his crown was secondary to his condition. That they saw the Leper before they saw the King. It was not that he lacked appreciation for those who truly worried for his health and his well-being, but in their eyes he saw reflected back at him what he tried desperately to ignore from the moment his physicians departed in the morning until they returned at night to dress his wounds.

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath his mask, and his quill stilled, poised for a moment in the one hand of his that still had life in it before he reached to return the pen to its stand.

Lady Y/N had never looked at him that way.

Sitting back in his chair, he wondered if she was enjoying herself this night. If Sibylla was hosting her well. He hoped that she was, and that his sister had not overwhelmed the poor girl with her almost shamefully lavish tastes. It was evident that Y/N was quite unused to Jerusalem’s abundance in almost every respect; those first few days after her arrival at court, her wide-eyed wonder had rendered her speechless on more than one occasion, or so he’d heard.

A light hum escaped him at the memory of their first meeting. It seemed as though it was forever ago, and yet, at the same time, it felt as if it were only yesterday.

She had been rather distracted, he recalled… so distracted, in fact, that she hadn’t seen him in the corridors, watching as she’d unwittingly wandered into the realm of the royal apartments. With great accuracy, he’d anticipated the trajectory of her meandering steps, and he purposefully made to intercept her before she breached the threshold of what the guards deemed acceptable, even for a lost lady.

Baldwin wasn’t quite as quick as he used to be, though, in part due to that damned dragging foot of his, and he’d neglected to account for his reduction in speed, resulting in an unfortunate collision on the terrace above the gardens.

Or perhaps, he thought in hindsight, it was fortunate after all…

He’d heard enough from his informants to guess who she was. Tiberias and others amongst his court might have suspected she was an assassin simply playing the part of a lost newcomer, and he had to admit that the thought had crossed his own mind, if briefly; in a world such as theirs, it was difficult to imagine anyone without some kind of ulterior motive. Yet it soon became apparent that she was as innocent as the day was long – if there was anything his disease had given him, it was experience reading tone and body language, and he wasn’t certain the best actress in the world could have feigned her level of self-conscious nervousness.

No, Y/N was simply curious and lost. And from what those same informants had told him, she was in desperate need of someone local she could trust. Though evidently satisfied with her new home in every other way, she had been slow to acclimate to the social environment of the court, preferring to keep to herself whenever possible. From this, he suspected her need to get away from the appraising gazes of total strangers was what had initially propelled her away from the great hall, and her natural inquisitiveness had continued to pull her into the quieter depths of the palace.

But the faint smile she’d worn and the sparkle in her eyes had been replaced with fear the instant she realized who she’d run into, and the stuttering apology and low curtsey she’d given him betrayed her anticipation of reprimand.

That was something he’d had to correct, and quickly.

In the moments that followed, he’d gauged it most appropriate for them to smooth over this encounter by getting to know each other better, and thus he’d invited her to do just that in the privacy of his quarters, where they would face little chance of interruption.

As he’d hoped, she’d accepted. And it was this first conversation of theirs that had led him to believe that Lady Y/N was terribly lonely.

Her chatter was slightly nervous and yet, at the same time, somewhat eager. There was little doubt that he’d learned far more about her than she had about him; with but a little coaxing, he had discovered much about her circumstances and about what plagued her. It had displeased him greatly to hear about the thieves that had raided her entourage’s tents on the way to the Holy City, and it irked him even more that she’d lost a treasured possession because of it. Her journey had already been a long and arduous one – had that not been enough?

Y/N put up a rather convincing façade of indifference on the matter, but when he focused on her voice alone, he heard her pain. No, she was no actress, he concluded.

He also hadn’t failed to notice her willingness to make eye contact with him… to look him full in the face and speak freely with every question he asked; she dodged neither query nor gaze. Outside her initial fright on the balcony, she displayed few other signs of trepidation regarding his presence. In fact, it seemed as though she’d just been waiting for someone with whom she could share her thoughts and feelings – as if she’d bottled up everything he’d asked about since arriving in Jerusalem and finally found someone willing to listen.

Had she truly felt so comfortable with him already, or was she simply a trusting soul? He was unaccustomed to both, and it was… refreshing.

His instincts warned him that the jackals of the court would surely eat her alive, and he feared what their viciousness might do to her. What kind of slander and gossip would come from what had been innocent curiosity on her part. How much her character would be maligned for sport. The very thought of it being a possibility made his blood boil.

Over the course of their subsequent conversations, however, he was forced to rethink that initial assumption. Kind-hearted she was, and still too good for the likes of her peers, but she could hold her own among them better than he had anticipated; a few casual inquiries over a few chess matches revealed that much. She saw, heard, and understood far more than her outward appearance would suggest. Behind that warm, gentle, and charmingly-inquisitive exterior was a clever and tenacious woman whom he found to be utterly captivating. No matter the storm around her, she always projected an air of geniality and good cheer, evidently determined not to let this unsettled world tear her down.

In short, the court didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve her.

She never asked him for anything, and likewise she didn’t press questions upon him about his condition. Whenever they passed time together, he felt like neither king nor leper, but like an ordinary man. In her sparkling eyes and healing presence, he saw not pity, but life. A normal life for once. One where he did not have to dread what the next morning might bring.

Alas, that glorious feeling of contentment left him with her every departure.

The sound of exuberant cheers down the corridor pulled him from his musings, and he found himself back in the relative darkness of his chambers, watching the candle’s flame flicker upon his desk. He wondered which dance it was they’d just finished, imagining Y/N in his mind’s eye moving as hypnotically as that very flame. If she danced as beautifully as he envisioned, she would have the whole court entranced…

“Sire, you have a request for an audience.”

The guard called from the entrance to his quarters.

“Who is it?” he asked, hope, dread, and fear all churning in his stomach in a toxic maelstrom. He hadn’t the patience or the energy to deal with most petitioners this night, other than-

“Lady Y/N.”

His eyes widened.

That was quick.

Hope surged forth at the mention of her name, but neither dread nor fear was eliminated by this revelation. Not completely. He had a feeling the gifting of the brooch he’d commissioned would bring her to him sooner or later, but he hadn’t anticipated it being that very day, and especially not with the festivities Sibylla had planned…

Perhaps it is not that, he reminded himself solemnly, but something else altogether.

“I will see her,” he called back at last. “Let her pass.”

There were precious few seconds for him to compose himself before he saw her, at first a shadow at the entrance to his chambers, and then illuminated by lamp and candlelight as she cautiously strode forth. His breath caught in his lungs at the sight of her, her eyes glittering like stars from all those dancing fires. She wore the most beautiful court dress he’d ever seen her in – a sapphire-blue silk bliaut, laced tight at the sides to flatter her form, seemingly a thousand shimmering pleats flowing from her hips to the floor. At her waist had been tied a fabric belt of lighter blue, embroidered in gold, double-wrapped about her body and knotted in front in Frankish style. Her belled sleeves, with their golden trim, allowed only a glimpse of her stark white chemise beneath, and there, upon that same trim that adorned the dress’s wide neckline, had been pinned the brooch, pulling the dipping V above her heart into an elegant keyhole.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted him with a curtsey, offering a smile that shot straight to his heart. “I hope I haven’t come at an inopportune time.”

“Not at all,” he gestured for her to rise, turning in his seat to fully face her, “although I would have expected you to be at my sister’s gathering.”

Another smile. “I was, in fact. Alas, I felt the need to speak with you on a matter of great import. I hope Her Highness can forgive me for my early departure.”

The king nodded once. “I am all but certain she will. I am, however, glad you were at least able to make an appearance,” he remarked as he slowly rose from his chair, stifling a groan that threatened to escape him from his aching limbs. Then, pausing, he tilted his head as he allowed himself to take in her attire once more. “You look lovely. It would have been a shame to have wasted such beauty on my poor eyes alone; better indeed that you allowed others with keener sight the chance to appreciate your taste and talents before slipping away to these dark and distant halls.”

Even in the low candlelight, he could see her cheeks flush, and as her gaze briefly flicked away from his, he felt his twisted lips pull into an unseen smile.

“You are too kind, my lord,” she replied. “In truth, I found myself… inspired… by this new jewel I received just this afternoon.” Her fingers drifted to that very piece, pinned above her heart, and Baldwin forced himself to school his gaze… to pretend he hadn’t been the one to write up the specifics of its creation for the royal jeweler… that he hadn’t entrusted it to Tiberias to give to a capable courier… that he hadn’t prayed to God he hadn’t made an irreversible mistake by daring to tread on this unknown path.

“Do you like it?” she asked suddenly, her eyes meeting his. “Believe it or not, it is, in fact, the subject of my concern.”

Something in both her gaze and her tone told him she’d made the assumption he wished. Good. He had no desire to drag this out; indeed, hadn’t the time for it. And now that she was here, following the lead he’d purposefully fashioned, his only task was to find out if Tiberias was truly right about her and her feelings…

Swallowing back where his heart had gathered in his throat, he replied coolly, “Yes, it suits you. Although, I am uncertain as to why you would approach me for such an opinion,” he added with a chuckle, slightly bemused at the way she was choosing to approach this mystery. Indicating the chess table where they’d held so many conversations of late, he beckoned, “Come. Sit.”

Wordlessly, she acquiesced, dipping her head before moving to take her usual place, as he did his.

“I…” she began after a moment, her stare focused on one of the pieces as he settled himself opposite her. “Well, the truth is, I was hoping I could ask you for advice in a matter related to it. Regarding the one who sent it to me, in fact.”

“Yes?” he prompted as he watched her. Time to confirm that assumption.

“Well, you see… I don’t really know who sent it…”

His eyes met hers, squinting a little. “You don’t?” he asked, keeping the skepticism from his tone as he began to pull her thoughts from her.

“No.” She shook her head. “There was no name on the note that accompanied it, so I cannot know for certain who might have sent it. But,” yet another smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, her eyes sparkling again as she leaned forth and propped her elbows on the edge of the table, “I do have an idea, and I was hoping perhaps I might pass my thoughts by you. You know a great many in your court, after all. Perhaps you could confirm or deny my suspicions?”

Oh yes, she knew. He knew she knew. And now she played with him as much as he with her, both seeking confession…

“Perhaps I could,” he answered musingly. “What are your thoughts, then, Lady Y/N?”

“Well,” she began, dropping her gaze to the pieces once more, her fingertips toying with the white king, “I was just thinking of how appropriate such a gift was. Indeed, the person who sent it must know me rather well. It appeals so much to my tastes and is so fitting given recent events.”

His heart felt like it was about to beat itself out of his chest. “How fortuitous.”

“My thoughts precisely,” she agreed, glancing up at him. “And of those whom I’ve spent the most time with, there are few who would know me in such a manner.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

She paused, and he felt her eyes studying him intensely. “In fact, there is only one man who would have known just how fortuitous it was. Only one who would have known I would have need of such a piece. Now,” she leaned back a little, offering him a pointed look, “I do realize that brooches are popular as courting gifts,” she paused, her gaze latching to his, “but even so, I find the choice rather… convenient. Don’t you, my lord?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I understand your meaning.”

Deafening silence stretched between them during which neither of them moved.

“Only one man,” she repeated, her own voice having gone quiet, and Baldwin saw her eyes glimmer in the lamplight. Before he could even open his mouth to offer another comment, she leaned forward again, her gaze burning a hole through him. “Only one man who bothered to know me. To know my heart. To care for me and my life enough to remember what I held dear.” He saw her swallow heavily. “You, my king. You sent it to me, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed, nodding once in affirmation.

“Do you mean it?”

Her question was barely a whisper, yet Baldwin felt it in his heart – a probing inquiry seeking out the truth of his intentions.

His blood was rushing in his ears. “Every word, written and unwritten.”

And with that final admission everything was confirmed on his part. But as for hers…

The tears were obvious in her eyes now, pooling at the edges of her lashes. In that moment, he was sure he understood how the condemned felt just before the stroke of the headsman’s axe, before the tightening of the hangman’s noose. What would her answer be, then? He knew in his heart it would be better for her to simply walk away. But would she? Would she willingly doom herself to heartbreak?

At last Y/N spoke once more, her voice a tremulous whisper, and he hung upon every word as though his very life depended on it.

“I know this cannot be a courtship in the traditional sense,” she began softly, her liquid stare never leaving his, “and I know what the others will say…”

He began to feel lightheaded. At this rate, he was going to faint before he could hear her answer in full.

“…but I don’t care. For as long as there is life left in both of us, my king, I am yours. In whatever capacity you desire.”

“Oh.”

The word left him on a whoosh of breath, hissing behind his mask as relief washed over him in a powerful wave, every muscle in his body relaxing at once. Yet he couldn’t help the warped smile that overtook his countenance behind that façade of silver at the implications of her words.

She…?

“Yes,” she said with a nod, as if hearing the question his thoughts posed. A soft laugh followed, even as a shimmering tear slowly tracked down her cheek. “I love you, Baldwin. With all my heart. And I have since the day we met.”

At that, then, there was no longer any question of her feelings. He felt his own eyes welling with emotion, and he leaned towards her as close as he dared, propping his good hand on the table for support. “I regret that I will never be able to show you the extent of my own for you, my dear Lady Y/N. But understand this…” he paused, swallowing heavily. “My purest devotion has and always will belong to you. As much as a wretch such as I can be, I, too, am yours.”

She shook her head. “You are no wretch. Not to me.”

It was then her hand slowly moved towards where his gloved one yet lay on the table’s polished surface, and he flinched, a spike of fear darting through him like the bolt from a crossbow. “Y/N, no…”

Her gaze bored into his, her hand yet poised above his own. “I’m not afraid, my lord.”

“Y/N… please…”

The word was barely a whisper, slipping between the slightly-parted lips of his mask before he could catch it – a cry for her to stop and yet a plea for her not to. It was as if he had been paralyzed, unable to move away despite every corner of his mind screaming at him to withdraw.

If the glove was not enough… if it couldn’t safeguard her…

And yet all thoughts of everything came to a halt the moment her fingers lightly grazed his own, his breath catching in his throat. He felt it – the warmth of her through the thin silk – and it took all of his strength not to flinch away from her again, to curl his hand into a fist and recoil in upon himself to protect her from his horrid disease. Her eyes searched his, seemingly sifting through his soul as further she went. Slowly. Steadily. Her fingertips brushed with a feather-light touch over each set of knuckles, back and forth, and he couldn’t breathe. His lungs were desperate for air as she traced the delicate golden embroidery on the back of his hand; they finally betrayed him then, a shuddering exhale followed by a hitched intake of air he was certain she heard.

Yet Y/N only smiled at him once more, in that warm and gentle way of hers, her hand stilling as it rested atop his. And the entire world stilled along with it, his fear slowly ebbing as reason returned to replace it. These touches were all they had, he realized. All they could permit themselves. And yet still they could hold all the tenderness of a kiss.

Speaking of which…

He moved much more gently, then, as he twisted his hand underneath hers to catch her fingers in his grip. His gaze holding hers, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles before bringing that hand to his mask, where the cold and unfeeling lips touched the back of it in place of his own disfigured ones.

Despite not being able to give her a proper kiss, though, she evidently still understood the gesture, as another blush flushed her cheeks. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he remarked dryly, “There appears to be a bit of an obstacle here…”

At that, uncontrollable laughter burst from her, merry and full, and she clamped her other hand over her mouth to muffle it, leaning against the back of the chair as she continued to shake. He, too, laughed softly at her merriment, and for a moment the sound filled the room with a kind of joy it hadn’t witnessed in years.

After a moment, Y/N finally recovered, and she glanced over her shoulder as the faint strains of another song could be heard. Her gaze glittering with stars, both hands grasped his now and gently tugged as she stood. “Come. Dance with me.”

He blinked even as he slowly rose before her. “I… fear I’m not capable of much these days…”

“Not to worry,” she assured him with a grin, “I’ve just the dance in mind. Like this…”

With that, she pulled him to the open floor at the center of his chambers and began to show him the steps – two sidesteps here, two sidesteps there, a slow twirl of the lady in his arms, and begin again. For the first few cycles, she counted quietly until he caught the rhythm, and then there was only a warm, comfortable silence between them, the two gently swaying and turning to the distant music.

Tiberias was right. In that moment, Baldwin knew only happiness. Peace. Comfort. And so long as Y/N, too, felt these things, he could be content with whatever God had willed for him. He could only pray that, upon his death, the Almighty would be merciful to this woman, a living angel on Earth…

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If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you want more of my writing, I also have a WIP Baldwin-centric longfic posted on Ao3 (shameless plug)! 😁Do let me know if you want me to continue this Y/N story! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Also, the dance mentioned at the end of the story was inspired by this lovely one:

youtube

#kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fandom #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv #tiberias #raymond iii of tripoli #koh fandom #baldwin iv of jerusalem #the leper king #fanfiction #reader insert #baldwin iv x reader #fem reader #my fanfiction #Youtube

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painted-flag · 5 months ago

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From Eden IV - Benjicot Blackwood

✧.* masterlist

✧.* pairing: benjicot blackwood x daenys velaryon

✧.* summary: it is the eve of Daenys and Benjicot's wedding and each are celebrating with loved ones. while their celebrations are cheery, it is the calm before the storm; heading closer to disaster.

✧.* word count: 3.5k

“And on that day, there had never been more drunk people in all of the Seven Kingdoms!” Rhaenyra jested. Daenys, Baela, and Rhaena erupt into laughter at the finale of the story. They had been secluded in a room and idly snacking and drinking wine. Daenys, unfortunately, was not able to participate in the feasting on account of her dress fitting. She stood on a raised dias in the room, sucking in her stomach and praying for her release. There was no denying her eagerness to marry Ben, but the dress fitting she could do without.

It was the day before her marriage ceremony to Benjicot and she was being put through one final check of her dress. Rhaenyra used the excuse of making sure everything was made perfect before the big day, but truly she wanted to spend as much time with her daughter as possible until her departure to Raventree Hall. Their afternoon was spent talking of gossip and excitement for the wedding.

The main dressmaker bowed to Rhaenyra, “The dress is complete, princess.”

Daenys resisted to urge to sigh loudly, for her feet were tired from standing for hours. She immediately marched behind one of the dividers in the room and began to get out of the dress with the help of some handmaids. By the time she had gotten ready again, the dressmaker was gone and the maids followed.

Daenys went to the lounge area where all the women were talking. Baela already had a goblet of wine poured for her and passed it into her hand when she sat down with them. Daenys gave her stepsister a thankful smile before taking a sip.

“Do you have any more wild stories like that?” Rhaena asked as she picked up a grape from the silver platter on the table and popped it into her mouth.

“Oh, well it depends on your definition of wild, my dear,” Rhaenyra responded. She leaned back in her chair and gently rubbed her stomach. Her pregnancy had progressed well, with little discomfort or worry from the maester. It would only be a few months until the infant is expected to come.

“Surely you have a story to rival the one from before?” Baela joined her sister in prodding for information. Daenys took a sip from her cup while her mother spoke.

“I do have one story with a Blackwood.” Daenys choked on her wine and placed her cup down in a fit of coughs. Baela and Raena laughed at her frantic movements.

“You what, mother?” Daenys questioned. She grabbed a handkerchief and wiped the wine from her chin with slight embarrassment.

Rhaenyra had a playful look on her face, “When I was a young girl, I had a tour for suitors. One of them was a Blackwood. He had to have been… maybe ten and two at that time. A charming young boy, but much too young. Oh, whatever was his name… Warren… Wesley…”

“Willem?” Daenys questioned. She had begun to lean forward in her seat.

“Ah, yes, that was his name. A Bracken lad had insulted him and at that point, I just wished to leave. He managed to cut him down despite being half his size.” Rhaenyra plopped a grape into her mouth upon finishing. She told the story as if it was a casual topic of discussion.

“Willem did that? He never mentioned anything about it when I visited Raventree Hall.” Daenys had grabbed the pitcher to fill her cup. “He did mention that he met you once… but nothing about killing a man in front of you.”

In the first month of her courtship with Ben, he had taken her to Raventree Hall. Daenys got to see his ancestral home and meet his family. His father, Samwell, had been a copy of his son. She could tell where he got his shyness and fierce will from. She was grateful to be welcomed so easily into the family, even prior to their engagement. Willem and Alysanne, Ben’s aunt and uncle, were a joy to be around. It took them a few days to get used to the presence of a princess, but after the ice was broken Daenys meshed in so well with them.

It was two weeks into her stay that Benjicot had officially asked for her hand in marriage, beneath the colossal weirwood tree in the godswood. It was part of a planned dinner they had together, a tale of sweetness she wished to keep to herself.

“The Bracken boy asked for it, to be so disrespectful in front of a hall of lords and me, their princess. A scandal to be sure.” Her mother responded.

“Speaking of Blackwoods,” Baela turned to Daenys, “How is your Blackwood, cousin?”

“I feel there is something else behind your words.” Daenys countered.

“We want to know about him!” Rhaena shifted in her seat with excitement.

Daenys shrugged, “You have already met him, many times. Why-”

“The details, ñuha pr��mia,” Rhaenyra began, “How does he treat you? What drove you to such an engagement, other than to benefit my place as heir?”

Daenys paused and thought for a moment. There really was no explanation as to why she gravitated towards him so easily. There was no struggle to know him, or awkward first meetings. She had a connection to him, and that was all there was to it.

“It’s… more than just knowing someone your whole life. Conversation flows easily with him as if we had always known one another. Perhaps we were acquainted that well in a past life. Truly, I cannot explain it. It just feels right, as everything is as it's supposed to be.” Daenys did not believe her words had been poetic, as surprisingly that was Ben’s talent, not hers. However, the gentle awe from the women around her showed that her words were enough.

“He is a gentleman, from what I have seen so far,” Rhaena added, and the other women nodded in agreeance.

“And what is your gentleman up to on the eve of your wedding?” Baela asked.

“Oh, Kermit and Oscar Tully arrived just this morn. They are most likely training in the courtyard now, nothing too strenuous.” Daenys answered.

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

“Drink, drink, drink, drink!” The joined chants of Oscar, Kermit, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Daemon carried through the feasting hall of Dragonstone. Ben had a large pitcher of ale clutched in both of his hands. He was currently chugging the drink to the encouragement of the men around him. Some drops of ale spilled from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. Once he finished, Ben slammed the drink on the feasting table and raised his arms in victory. All of the men broke into celebratory hollers.

“Nice one, laddie!” Oscar Tully patted his friend on the back.

Ben had planned on having a calm night, perhaps some training with friends, but those plans had been dashed when Daemon decided to host a dinner to celebrate the occasion. Ben could not deny him, for he was still unsure of the prince's thoughts on his and Daenys union. What was a slightly tense dinner had quickly faded the more ale they consumed. The only one who was sober had been Lucerys, as he was limited to only a few drinks.

Jacaerys saw his brother try and sneak another glass and quickly snatched the pitcher, “I do believe you have reached your limit, brother.”

“Just one more, Jace.” Lucerys pleaded.

“I don’t think one more drink could do him any harm,” Ben defended his soon-to-be brother-in-law.

Daemon nodded after taking a bite of his steak, “I agree with Lord Benjicot over there. One more drink won’t harm. Plus, it is time Luke begins to learn the ways of men.”

“And the perfect way to do that is with what men know most - ale.” Kermit pitched in.

“See, if the wedding were to happen in Kings Landing,” Daemon began as he picked up his cup and scanned his gaze across those at the table, “I could have shown you all the real way to celebrate. I know all the best brothels.”

The men, besides Lucerys, laughed. Ben responded, “Well, Daenys wished for it to be on Dragonstone. Alas, my prince, I would have had to deny such an invite as I do not frequent such establishments.” Ben waved his hand in polite dismissal. He gazed at the food on his plate and decided he had eaten enough for the evening.

“The honourable Lord Benjicot, faithful to his lady.” Jace teased as he put down a pitcher of ale, “Tell me, which one is the true commander in your union?”

“I do as my princess bids, Jace.” Ben chided back at his jest.

“Yes, yes, I understand your sentiment but such sweet words are boring me.” Daemon poured more wine into his goblet, “Let us drink some more.”

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

“You’ve done an awful lot of teasing about my marriage, yet we have not talked about yours,” Daenys spoke as they glanced at Baela and Rhaena. Rhaenyra giggled at her daughter's words and hid her laughter from behind her goblet of wine. The two sisters looked around the room with visible nervousness. The ladies had moved from one of the lounge rooms and into another for dinner. The sun had set long ago, and flickering candles illuminated the room. It was a calm night, with little wind and gentle waters.

“We are not betrothed,” Baela answered.

“But you will be soon,” Rhaenyra expressed, “And it is important that you keep that in mind.”

Rhaena looked to Daenys, “There doesn’t happen to be another available Blackwood?”

“Unfortunately, no. You needn’t worry, I do not care how many lords I will have to fight, you shall marry a man who is kind like you.” Daenys asserted. She had felt similar fear when looking at her prospects for marriage in the past. It is no surprise that it is also felt by Baela and Rhaena. She made a vow to herself to petition for their right to go about and seek a husband, rather than all the lords seek them out.

Daenys reflected often on her luck with both happiness and deep sorrow. She was grateful for her situation, to be married to a man like Benjicot - more so in her ability to choose. However, her heart ached for the other women of the realm; both high and low-born. For the highborn ladies are ferried off like lambs to slaughter. She could not imagine what that was like for those born in the position of lower prospects.

Daenys stifled a yawn, which caught her mother's attention.

Rhaenyra rose from her seat, “The hour is late and tomorrow is such a big day. It is well past time we rest.”

There were no complaints from any in the room. They all had been fighting off the coming sense of exhaustion in favour of speaking more. Baela and Rhaena gave both Daenys and Rhaenyra gentle hugs goodbye, with quick comments of luck to Daenys for her ceremony on the morrow. Once alone, the mother-daughter duo made their way through the dimly lit halls of Dragonstone and to Daenys’ room. Rhaenyra sat on one of the plush chairs in from of a burning hearth. Daenys got on the floor in front of her and waited patiently as her mother took out all of her braids and twists. The feeling of a brush being softly put through her hair nearly lulled her to sleep.

There were no exchanges of words for the entirety of it. Nothing needed to be said. All that was left were two women wishing to be in one another's company, for such a thing would turn into a luxury once Daenys was married and carted off to the Riverlands.

It was an unyielding fear in Daenys that she had not expressed to anyone, even Ben. Her time in the Riverlands was the longest she had been apart from her mother. It had only been bearable because she had the presence of her brother and the knowledge that she would return to Dragonstone. With her marriage to Ben, she would be tied permanently to Raventree Hall. It was not something she detested. She was excited for her marriage and had made good friends with the Blackwoods, but it was still new.

Visits were possible, but they would be few and far between. As much as Daenys fought to build her reputation beyond a princess, she was deep down still a little girl basking in the light of her mother. A life of barely seeing Rhaenyra would be a life difficult to get used to. Adding to that fear was the prospect of becoming a mother herself. Daenys was not ready to be a mother. How could she, if she could barely part from her own?

“I know you care deeply for Benjicot,” Rhaenyra began as Daenys moved to sit beside her, “but if you have any regret or uncertainty, tell me and we can delay the ceremony. I do not want you to feel like it's too late.”

Daenys looked fondly at her mother, “I do wish to marry him, truly. I am scared… about how I will be as a wife and most of all being parted from Dragonstone. I don’t wish to lose you, mother.”

“Oh, ñuha prūmia,” Rhaenyra began, “You will never lose me.” She reached out and cupped her daughter's face.

“Things are changing, greatly so.”

“That happens in life. We grow up, get old, and move on from things. Listen, you will always be welcome here, any moment you can come on Suneater and visit as often as you'd like. I will do the same and visit Raventree Hall whenever possible.” Rhaenyra reassured her daughter.

“You will be busy in a few months taking care of the babe.” Daenys spoke, “How is Visenya, anyways?” She had been insistent that the babe her mother was carrying would be a girl. Even more so had she been insistent that the child be named Visenya. Rhaenyra was inclined to follow her daughter's words. Her belly had begun to show a few moons ago, so it was only a matter of time until the birth.

“Visenya moves often. It feels the same as all the other pregnancies before. Painful and uncomfortable, but worth it.” Rhaenyra answered.

“Well, I do not envy you.” Daenys picked at the fabric of her dress.

“Soon you will be in the same position.” Daenys frowned at her mother's words and continued to distract herself from the topic. Rhaenyra sensed her daughter's hesitancy and decided it was best not to push any further.

“I think it is best that you get all the rest you can.” The heir got out of her seat with the help of Daenys. As she was being guided out the door, she turned back to her child, “You will always be my first daughter and my biggest priority.” She kissed Daenys on the head before parting down the hall.

Daenys watched her mother go until she turned down another hallway. Once out of sight, she closed the door and proceeded to undress. She got into her nightclothes, a thin chemise, and crawled into bed. While she was plagued with exhaustion, the excitement for the next day exceeded it. She tossed and turned for a while, unable to fall asleep. It was after another turn in her bed that she huffed loudly and sat up.

She shuffled out of bed and made her way to one of the windows. Daenys perched on the padded sitting area and watched the night sky. The moon hung in the sky amongst the stars. The shimmering light cast down on the gently moving water surrounding the island. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on one while wrapping her arms around her legs.

The familiar creaking of the secret door in the far corner of the room pulled Daenys from her thoughts. She turned around to see Ben tumble into her room. When the door opened fully, he stumbled and almost lost his balance. Despite the near fall, it did not look like he was phased by it.

“My lovely wife!” His voice, slightly slurred, called out. Daenys had never been more surprised by his actions. She could clearly see his intoxicated state.

“Quiet down, Ben. Someone could hear.” She tried to keep her voice down.

Ben paused and stood in the corner for a moment as if he was slowly processing her words. His arms hung at his sides and the clothing her wore was ruffled slightly. His breath was laboured.

“Oh!” He acknowledged but followed it up with hushed laughter, “My apologies, my lady.” He went to bow but struggled immensely to keep his balance when doing it. He walked shakily over to her and plopped himself down. Ben leaned his back against the vertical part of the window and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. Daenys unravelled and leaned into him while stretching out her legs. Ben had his legs bent at the knees, essentially caging her in.

“And, pray tell, why are you so drunk?” Daenys questioned.

Ben rested his cheek on the top of her head and sighed, “Daemon wished to have dinner with me, your brothers, and my friends. It was amusing.”

“I can tell by the scent of ale on you. Why have you come to my room so late? You should be resting and working off the drinking.” Her words were followed by a whine-like noise escaping his throat.

“But I want my wife.” Ben buried his head in her hair and inhaled the scent.

Daenys trembled from his touch, “Tomorrow, I shall be your wife.” Ben let out a hum of contentment at her words, his lips rumbling against her skin.

“You question why I am up so late, yet you happen to be awake.” Ben teased.

“Sleep could not come.” She answered him, “I am excited, ‘tis all.”

He kissed her neck. Though he was still drunk, Ben steeled himself, “I know what has been bothering you, and it has not been the wedding preparation. I know Raventree Hall may never be considered your home, and I am alright with that. I hope you recognize that you will be safe and content under my protection. House Blackwood may not be swimming in gold, but we have enough to be well comfortable.”

“It is not that,” Daenys said as she grabbed one of his hands and began to play with it, “I love your home, truly. It will take me a while to adjust, but all will be fine. If I am being honest… you are my home, Ben.” She leaned back to kiss his cheek.

Ben’s hold on her tightened as his arms wound tighter around her waist, “Raventree Hall will always be open to your family for visits. They can stay as long as they wish to.”

“Thank you, Ben.” Daenys gaze moved back to the stars in the sky.

“I spoke to your stepfather before coming,” Ben spoke after a few moments of silence. Daenys tensed at his words, unsure of how their conversation went.

He saw her unease and continued, “It was good. Prince Daemon and I spoke privately. He made me take a vow, that is all. I do believe we found common ground.”

“What vow?” Daenys inquired.

“That I would protect you with my life. Honour you as my wife. That I pledge fealty to House Targaryen and come to serve in the event of conflict.” Ben swiped his thumb up and down on her stomach, rubbing in soothing motions. He lifted his head to rest his chin on the top of her head.

“So you are aware of the tension in my family?”

“The tension is across the seven kingdoms, love. Not many lords acknowledge their distaste for your mother as heir but rather hide it. When that comes to the surface…” He trailed off. Daenys felt the tension in his body and she knew he was just as inclined to the state of the kingdom as her.

“That is something to worry about later,” Ben told her, “For now, you must sleep.” Daenys shifted in his hold to get more comfortable. She tilted to the side to get a better vision of the night sky. Ben began to run his hands up and down her arm.

Daenys closed her eyes and allowed herself to be lulled to sleep by Ben’s repetitive movements. It was only after her chest started to rise and fall in calm movements that Ben assessed her to finally be asleep. He maneuvered himself slowly off of the ledge while holding her in his arms. Ben walked across her room and to her bed. He leaned down to pull back the covers while keeping her steady. He placed Daenys into her bed and pulled the covers over her body, tucking in the sides tenderly.

The Blackwood man placed a kiss on her forehead, “Until tomorrow, love.”

______________

✧.* note: we are getting closer and closer to the war - super exciting. how long do you think peace during their marriage will last? just something to think on, lol.

if you want to be added to any taglist i have, you can fill out a response here.

✧.* taglist: @credulouskhaleesi @username199945 @haydee5010 @yeolsbubbles @f1wh0recom @cococrazy18 @poppyflower-22 @eevanie @dumpmyblues

#benjicot blackwood imagine #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood fanfic #ben blackwood #benjicot blackwood x oc #bloody ben #house blackwood #house targaryen #fire and blood #house velaryon #fire and blood fanfic #asoiaf imagine #asoiaf fanfic

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pupyuj · 1 year ago

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g!p ive (ot5 ofc) with a spoiled brat girlfriend 🫣🫣 how'd you think they'd deal with that?

g!p ive + brat taming?? THANK YOU FOR PUTTING THIS IN MY HEAD ANON 🤤‼️‼️

[cw: impact play (+ the usual g!p stuff but this is the one i wanted to warn you guys on)]

gaeul is a professional atp. between you and her more childish members, she gets a lot of practice!! so she doesn't really get bothered a lot when you start acting up bcs she knows the night will end with you going from an annoying brat to her obedient little girl 😊 BUT! there are times when gaeul just can't seem to get a hold of you no matter how many times she scolds you and threatens you,, like that one time you just became the bane of her existence for no reason at all?? disobeying her, ignoring her, and when you did talk to her, you put up such an attitude that gaeul just snapped and grabbed you by your hair??? "you'll know not to talk to me like that, slut." n then she's throwing you on the bed, spanking your ass and your cunt with floggers n riding crops until your skin is red and you're crying :(( and it doesn't even end there!! you're sobbing and begging for her to stop hitting you while she's got her cock splitting you open :(( you're apologizing over and over, only letting out pained cries when gaeul only forces more of her length deeper inside you 😔 you were never too much of a bad girl after that!!

yujin can tame you surprisingly well 🤭🤭 when you start acting up, she can bribe you with promises of fucking you the way you want her to 😤 but only as long as you're a good girl!! you don't keep your end of the deal most of the time of course bcs you want to get under yujin's skin. why? well! after spending a whole night of being touchy with other people and almost kissing someone, yujin likes to push you down on your knees and use your mouth as she pleases 😊 holding onto your hair with a tight grip, moving your head back and forth on her thick cock,, sometimes pulling you off to ask you if it was all worth making her angry and getting annoyed when you say yes,, slapping you across the cheek with her other hand before forcing her cock in your mouth again :((( coming all over your face and your tits several times but it's not enough of a punishment, so she uses your mouth for what seems like hours,, laughing down at you when you started riding her shoe, desperate for your own release but she would never give it to you until she's satisfied :(( she would willingly exhaust herself using your mouth before she would try to give a damn about what you needed 😣 you were pretty sure that you got fucked out so good and rough that night that you became her good girl for days 😳

rei is actually very tolerant and lenient when it comes to you 😭😭 like whenever you're teasing her and make jokes about sleeping with or kissing other people, rei just giggles and is like "oh really~?" 😭 she finally takes you seriously when she sees you dancing with someone at a party and letting them touch you,, but like you're so mean bcs rei was already having a bad day and there your annoying ass go making it worse 🤨 rei dragging you towards her car and practically shoving you in the passenger seat.. she doesn't touch you while she's driving,, but as soon as she parked the car in the garage, she was all over you,,, but not in a way you expected... she grabbed your jaw, her sharp nails hurting your cheek,, and she was berating you about how much of a slut you were to be letting people other than your girlfriend touch you inappropriately :((( and ofc you're talking back 😭 blaming rei bcs of her "stupid mood swings" and then getting bold and telling her that "you don't care anymore" because "her cock isn't evem that big" and OH YEAH.. SHE HAS HAD IT WITH YOU 😭😭😭😭

surprisingly strong rei forcing you to sit on her lap despite your resistance,, "my cock isn't that big? mine?? the one you're always drooling over in the mornings?? the one you're always fucking begging me to ruin you with???" she ripped your panties right off of you,, and she lifts you up before pulling out her dick and crashing you back down on top of her 🫣 screaming and sobbing as rei completely controlled your body,, forcing you to ride her in full speed and balls deep inside your tight cunt :((( your ass so red bcs she was spanking you, calling you all the mean names,,,, you're saying sorry over and over again, saying that you didn't mean it but rei doesn't care! the only way you could make it up to her is by letting her use your cunt all night, and that's exactly what she forces you to do :(((( but like.. super soft aftercare the morning after where rei is applying ointment on the places where she hit you, bathing with you bcs you can't walk, feeding you, and making you lay on her chest all day 💔

wonyoung is what happens when you pair up a bratty dom with a bratty sub 😭😭 you're both constantly trying to out-brat each other in your own ways :((( you're grinding up against other people on the dance floor while wony is basically feeling up a girl while looking at you, knowing it pisses you off </3 BUT NOBODY CHEATS!!! you're just playing with each other's heads!! even when the two of you do seemingly 'severe' things to rile each other up, neither of you would like, kiss someone else or literally fuck someone else!! bcs no matter what, you and wony are faithful to each other, and you love one another like no other!!! but sometimes you really do take it too far :((( one day you let someone pull you away from wonyoung's sights, and she immediately assumed the worst bcs the two of you argued before attending this stupid party ☹️☹️ you were doing your usual thing, just trying to poke fun at wony, but you disappeared for a long time and wony just got really angry when you returned to her :(( as soon as you got back to your shared apartment, wony was pulling you by your hair to the bedroom :((( "you wanna get fucked that bad, huh? going as far as to cheat on me in front of my face??? fine then, (y/n). i'll give you what you want. i'll fuck you until you're sick of it." omg her slapping you when you try to explain that you didn't cheat on her bcs you loved wony so much, you would never do that!!! but she's so angry that she doesn't believe you :(( she's making you scream while pounding your asshole but she's the one that's crying,,, "i can't b-believe you, (y/n)," and "i never thought you would do that to me..." she fucks you until your hole was gaping, waves of her cum leaking out of it... still sobbing but she keeps on fucking you :((

flipping you over and attacking your cunt next,,, "y-y-you think she's better than me?? did you like her cock more?? am i not the one that fucks you the best, (y/n)??" she's asking all these questions and you're answering her honestly but she's so mad that she doesn't care if you're telling the truth :((( she just calls you a liar and fucks you full of her cum :(((( "i'm making sure that it's my baby that's inside you... not hers..." wony definitely breeds you all night!!! believing that if she gets you pregnant, then you'll never want to leave her for another girl 😣

liz never fucking knows what to do with you tbfh 😭😭😭 she's timid, soft-spoken... what is she supposed to do with a brat like you???? so most of the times she just mopes when you're acting out that you feel bad🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️but if she's heated enough, she can get a little scary! she's holding your wrist super tightly, telling you to behave through gritted teeth, and berates you in your ear if you decide to be annoying in public skdjfhdif completely different from the shy lizzy that you knew 🥺 but you start seeing her in a completely different light when you caught her in a bad day 🫢 you wore a skimpy outfit without her permission, and she got sooo mad bcs a lot of perverts were staring at your ass the whole night :(( meanie lizzy punishing you by deciding that you don't get to come at all while she's fucking you :((( she's fingering you so good, hitting all the right spots with her skilled fingers but she pulls out every time you clench around her 😵‍💫 n it's worse when she uses her cock 😩 liz is so thick, she fits in your tight hole just right and it feels soooo fucking good when she's pounding into you,, but she does the same thing—she denies you of your orgasm and laughs at your tears :((

"you want me to make you come?? me? i thought you wanted those other people's cocks inside you... letting them see you like that in such an outfit.. i thought you wouldn't need me..." she was saying :(( but you keep shaking your head, telling her that you only want her cock and no one else's but liz can be soooo mean 🥲🥲 she edges you all night, not caring about how loud and desperate you were begging her to just let you come once, just once!! but you should have known bad girls don't get forgiven so easily...

#ive smut #girl group smut #ahn yujin smut #kim gaeul smut #naoi rei smut #jang wonyoung smut #kim jiwon smut #yujin smut #gaeul smut #rei smut #wonyoung smut #liz smut

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t1red-twilight · 7 months ago

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OMG OMG can you do something with angst request #10 "i miss you. your side of the bed doesn’t even smell the same anymore" with peter :)))))) Ive been sad and need some angst to match the mood and who better to ask!!!

bereavement

summary: “i miss you. your side of the bed doesn’t even smell the same anymore.”

content/warnings: gn!reader, andrew!peter, angst, major character death, grief, descriptions of ptsd, disordered eating (if you squint)

notes: omg tysm!!! i GOTCHU girl (gender-neutral). i really really tried with this one, i hope you enjoy it. i hope you feel better, dear anon. this fic made me cry lol

word count: 1k

masterlist p. parker masterlist

you had had a grueling day at work. you hadn’t slept the night before; your head plagued with dreams and regrets that you would carry as long as you would live. everyone was bothering you in some shape or form, plus, you had forgotten your lunch.

all you wanted was peter. you opted to walk to his home instead of trying to bear the late night traffic.

when you saw him, your shoulders finally released the tension that they had been holding.

“hey, pete.” you sat down next to him. “you would not believe how hard work was today. a rude older lady harassed me about messing up one of her forms, even though she was the one that filled them out.” you slouched and looked at the ground.

the honks of busy city life filled your ears. the smell from the rain lingered. “i forgot my lunch again. i don’t have enough to eat out right now either, so i just didn’t have lunch. but that’s not a big deal.” stomach pains were something that you were becoming quite familiar with. inhaling deeply, you continued. “i canceled more plans. i know you don’t want me to, but i just want to spend any time i have, with you. I can’t bear to be further away from you.” the sound of him scolding you felt like whispers against your damp skin.

you reached up and wiped a lone tear from your cheek. smiling as wide as you could handle, you tried to ignore them.

“i want to move to somewhere quieter, but i could never leave you.” you fiddled with your fingers out of habit.

there was a pause. your ears rang. “you don’t ever have to worry about me leaving, okay? i promise. i’ll stay here as long as you need me too.”

you waited; your eyes trailed downward, head turned away. the street was still slick with the combination of the oil from the city mixed with the rain. your breathing was fitful now, tears soaking the neckline of your top.

“i miss you. your side of the bed doesn’t even smell the same anymore,” you choked out, your hands rubbing the sockets of your eyes. you scanned the graveyard before returning your gaze to where peter rested.

Peter’s headstone was simple; he never would have wanted something grandiose. you and may picked out a simple granite. it was more may’s choice than yours, you had been too hysterical to even cope with the fact that the funeral you were planning was his.

even through hysterics, it never really hit you that he was dead. not until he sunk in an urn into the earth.

he always insisted an urn, better for the environment. neither you or may could handle having him sit on your mantle. you both decided that it felt too dehumanizing.

his headstone read: Peter Benjamin Parker: Lover, Son, Hero.

“it’s not getting any easier. i still love you more than anything, peter. i’m not capable of loving someone else, i think.

“you’ve ruined me romantically.” you laughed at the thought. it was a joke, even though it rang truer and truer as each day passed.

“you are the highlight of my existence. good lord, peter. you mean so much to me. there is nothing that i wouldn’t do to see you again. or, at the very least get your pillow to smell normal again. it reeks of me.”

peter died in your arms.

you could not quite recall the turn of events completely, but you could very clearly remember what he had said to you last.

he stumbled into your apartment through the fire escape. it got blurry after he thudded onto the carpet.

there had been some criminal ransacking the city who had a particular vengeance for peter. every time peter went out, he came back worse and worse. the name of the scum that killed him laid dormant somewhere in your mind. you refused to even think about him, as far as you were concerned, he was beneath you.

you had known that peter’s crime fighting could result in something serious, but pete had always insisted that everything was going to end up all right.

“i got him,” he had said. you ran over to help him. everything you remembered was from the third person, like you were watching yourself from above. you couldn’t recollect anything you said in response. “finally you’ll be safe from-”

from this point everything was crystal clear. you could name the shampoo still faintly straggled in his hair. it was your shampoo; now tarnished with the intense irony scent of blood that congested the throngs of your shared bedroom.

“peter, we have got to call an ambulance.” you were getting frantic. you tried as hard as you could to hoist him up, but he resisted. his arms rested atop your shoulders as you tried and tried to lift him up.

“it’s my time, love, it’s-”

“no. just let me get you to the hospital. if you hold on just a little bit longer, we can get you fixed up, okay?”

he inhaled like he was going to say something. his forehead fell to your shoulder.

“honey?” you shook him. “peter?”

“pete? peter?” you hand moved to his scalp. you tried to thread your fingers through his hair to no avail. the matting from his blood halted you fingers as soon as you began.

“c’mon, darling. stay awake, okay?”

“peter?”

your screech was pathetic as he laid limply in your arms. his chest was concave and his left foot had been barely hanging on.

you changed your shampoo after that; the smell of it only ever brought you that night. whenever you closed your eyes, you saw visions of peter. you could not decide which was worse: the memories where he was happy, or the play-by-play of his soul shrinking away from yours.

nights were now filled with television reruns, your ceiling, anything that could keep you awake occupied your time. when you were asleep you could be with him again. but, you never wanted to wake up. the hollow throbbing pains of having him ripped away from you again when you woke made you an insomniac.

you doomed yourself to repeat this cycle. it was as if you ever managed to get over peter, you’d lose everything that you had of him. so, you clung to every crumb that remained. even though those crumbs were slipping through your fingers like sand and disappearing with time as days passed.

#lee’s writing <3 #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker angst #x reader #angst #andrew garfield!peter x reader

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arealphrooblem · 1 year ago

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Hi!! First off I just want to say that this is my new favorite writing blog on tumblr!! I'm so grateful for whatever strings the universe pulled that led me here. I'm literally addicted to every single thing you've written here. I swear I've read Mutually Assured Destruction like ten times within the past 24 hours.

I was wondering, if you find the free time and the inspiration, if you could write a villain x medic/civilian snippet? Maybe Medic accidentally witnessed villain's crime so villain can't let them just wander around freely since medic works for the hero agency, but also doesn't want to kill medic since medic is useful?

Thank you so much! I've always loved the idea of Villain x Medic so here you go!

CW: Kidnapping

“You know my face.”

The medic knew this day would come. Still, they froze in the doorway of the living room, keys dangling in their hands, blood frosting over in sheer dread. The villain sat with their legs crossed in the medic’s favorite armchair, the fire place unlit. The room in semi-darkness, the only light a glow from a street-lamp.

They didn’t ask how the villain knew their address. They should have taken Hero’s offer to leave under witness protection, but their whole life was built here. They couldn’t just leave and start over.

“I haven’t revealed it,” the medic said.

“Yet,” the villain amended. “I’m sure you would for the right price. Or under the right pressure.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t. But I am not going to risk it.”

The lamp beside the couch switched on. The medic flinched away from the sight, eyes trained on the coat rack by the door. As if mattered anymore if they saw the villain’s face again. As if they hadn’t doomed themselves the first time.

Footsteps creaked over the old wood floors. The medic took slow deep breaths, holding it for four counts and releasing it. A trick they had taught people afraid of IV needles to calm their racing heart.

The time to run had long since passed. And even if it hadn’t, the villain most definitely had people outside lying in wait for such an escape.

Hands that tipped the medic’s chin to meet that dangerous gaze.

“You’re going to kill me,” the medic said. It was not a question.

An eyebrow raised. “You sound very calm about that.”

“My career has taught me how to recognize and accept things that aren’t in my control. Right now there is nothing I can do to stop you.”

“This is true.”

The villain studied them, thumb brushing absently against the curve of their bottom lip. The darkness of their eyes felt unfathomable, like the Marianas Trench. Like the deepest part of the ocean, full of wonder and terror.

“I am not going to kill you,” the villain said finally. “I owe you my life. And I always repay my debts. But you know my face.”

The medic swallowed thickly against the barrage of options that opened up. The villain could blind them, torture them into insanity, cut out their tongue. All of the above. The villain’s hand slips across their cheek to cup the back of the medic’s head. A possessive gesture, they noted with a shiver.

“You are coming with me. Whether it be conscious or unconscious, I leave up to your . . . control.”

Relief warred with new fear. “Where are you taking me?” they asked. “What happens to me when we get there?”

“Questions I will happily answer in the car,” said the villain, their hand sliding down the medic’s

neck before retreating. “Hand me your phone and your keys and then go pack your things. You have ten minutes.”

The medic stood rooted to the spot. This was real, this was happening. And it yet it still felt like a bad dream. Ten minutes to pack their life up? Ten minutes?

“Tick tock, darling,” crooned the villain, holding their hand out.

Numbly, the medic dropped their phone and keys into the villain's hand and took robotic steps towards their bedroom. Clothes were easy to grab and stuff into the suitcase. As were their birth certificate and other identity papers. Personal items, less so. Medic spent precious minutes at their bookshelf, picking a well thumbed classic from their childhood, their most referenced medical texts, and a novel they hadn’t started yet.

The pressure of time throbbed in the back of their head, making it difficult to think rationally about what they needed. They ducked into the bathroom, grabbing their contact case and solution, their toothbrush. Then they stood in the middle of their bedroom, frantically trying to think of what they couldn’t live without.

“Times up.”

The villain’s voice came from behind, causing the medic to jump out of their skin.

“Zip it up and let’s go.”

The villain’s car lay hidden in the shadows of the back alley. A dangerous looking driver waiting for them, their cigarette glow the only light. The villain opened the backseat of the car for Medic with a mocking flourish.

It was their last opportunity to run, but the medic knew a shot in the back waited for them if they tried it. So, dread sitting heavy in their stomach, they climbed in. The villain took the seat next to them, giving out curt orders to the driver in a language the medic didn’t recognize.

The nagging horror that the medic forgot something important haunted them. They leaned their head against the window, mentally walking through their house, trying to remember. But the fear churning in their blood made it so difficult.

“I’m taking you to my compound,” said the villain, almost conversationally. As if detailing the itinerary for a date. “I have a room set up for you, as well as a med bay. You can resume your work taking care of my mercenaries.”

The medic listened with half an ear, watching the wave of street lamps pass them by. What were they missing?

“No objections to that?” the villain asked, bemused.

They passed a park, one the medic had many birthday parties in as a child, and the sudden zing of memory made them gasp.

“Stop! We have to go back!” they cried.

The driver didn’t so much as flinch.

“Go back?" The villain laughed. "Too late for that, doctor. You should have protested before you climbed into this car."

"I forgot something!"

"Whatever it is can be replaced," the villain said with a dismissive wave of their hand.

"It's not replaceable. Please."

Desperation clawed at their throat but the villain remained unmoved.

"If it were so important, one would think it would be the first thing you packed, not the first thing you forgot. You will have to learn to live without it."

The medic closed their eyes the rest of the journey. They couldn't bear to look at Villain's face.

"Do you regret it?"

The villain sat upon the examination bed, looking almost innocent.

It had been a week since the medic was taken. Their life had changed so drastically that the normality of the med bay, of the tools they had spent years around, clanged like a discordant note. They threw themselves into their work, demanding physicals for the Villain's mercenaries to establish a baseline of health. These people, so used to sewing their own wounds, grew awkward around the medic’s soft and attentive care. Some refused to come.

The villain showed up last, a new laceration on their ribs. They sat, spine straight and unflinching as medic carefully cleaned the wound and bandaged it.

"Regret what?" the medic asked.

" . . .Saving my life."

Their hands stilled for a moment, hovering over the wound. It was a tricky question and the medic wasn't sure how to answer it honestly.

"I would have regretted the person that I'd become if I had let you die," they said finally.

"Oh? Most people would consider it a net positive, preventing all my future damage."

"It's not up to me to decide who deserves to live and who doesn't."

"I beg to differ. You hold people's lives in your hands every day. Who else, if not you?"

The medic glanced up at the villain, who stared at them with open-faced fascination, rather than the usual dispassion.

"I don't think any one person should have that power," they said pointedly.

The villain smiled, a slow curving movement. "A pity. You could be terrifying indeed."

The medic swallowed something strange dancing in their gut. "You're lucky I'm not."

"Indeed I am."

They finished the examination without further conversation. The villain watched with quiet fascination as the medic sterilized their tools, folded unused bandages away, updated the Villain's medical records.

"What did you leave behind?" they asked softly.

"My life," the medic said, tersely, as they tapped on the keyboard.

The villain was undeterred. "What did you remember in the car?"

The medic paused at that, unsure if they should answer. They didn't want the villain's mockery over it. But lies rarely went over well with the villain -- the medic had cleaned up the wounds left behind from that.

"A box under my bed," they replied, keeping their eyes locked on the computer. "It had my keepsakes in it. Family photos, birthday cards, that sort of thing."

"Sentiment," the villain said skeptically. "That's what got you so worked up?"

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand," they snapped, standing up.

The villain watched them leave and the medic felt their gaze like a laser all the way down the hall.

Two days later a painfully familiar box sat on the examination table. Scribbled in sharpie on the cardboard was a message:

I do understand.

#hero x villain #villain x civilian #villain x medic #my writing #asks #writeblr

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doc-pickles · 1 year ago

Text

emergency contact | anthony beauvillier

summary: you’re sick and all tito wants is for you to take care of yourself

warnings: mentions of being sick, hospital, a few swears

a/n: this idea popped into my head and I knew it was the perfect thing to write tito into!

enjoy!

xoxo nina

Tito always warned you about taking care of yourself. You had a tendency to get lost in your work and skip meals or leave your water bottle at home and go the whole day without even thinking about taking a sip of water. But when you’d come down with a cold, Beau’s insistence that you take care of yourself grew tenfold.

“Did you take DayQuil?”

“Yes.”

“And ate breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“And you-“

“Anthony,” you cut him off as he stared at you from his place at the door. You never used his full name so he knew you were serious. “I’m fine. I will survive going to work for the day while you do tape review. Okay?”

Tito groaned before nodding and pressing a kiss to your hair, “I’m just worried about you baby. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, leaning into Tito slightly before he left for the day. After he shut the door you heaved a sigh before gathering your work things and heading into the office for the day.

It’s only took 45 minutes of being at work before your migraine cropped back up. You pushed it aside as you worked on the document in front of you.

But the pain became worse, to the point where you could barely see your screen. You groaned and shut your laptop, deciding that you needed a snack and a break from your work.

As soon as you stood up your head began to swim, your fingers reaching for the edge of your desk to try and balance yourself. The attempt was futile as your knees buckled and your vision went black.

Tito was sitting across from Petey and Brock, the trio spread out across Brock’s living room reviewing film. Just as Elias paused the tape Tito’s phone rang.

“Lemme grab this real quick,” Anthony stood from the couch, Elias throwing a pillow at him.

“Bring back more beer!”

Tito laughed as he answered the call, walking into the kitchen, “Hello?”

“Hi Im calling from Vancouver General Hospital. Is this Anthony Beauvillier?”

“Yeah that’s me. Is uh- is everything okay?”

“I have Y/N Y/L/N in the ER and you’re listed as her emergency contact.”

Tito’s heart dropped as he set the beers in his hands down and went to slip his shoes on. Petey and Brock stared at him but he couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge them as he tried to locate his keys.

“Is she okay? What happened?” Tito tried to keep the panic out of his voice but it was hard when the woman across the line wasn’t telling him anything.

“I can’t release medical information on the phone,” the woman said in a dull monotone. “Would you be able to come down to our emergency department?”

Anthony finally located his keys and made his way toward the front door, “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

As he hung up his phone Anthony finally looked to Brock and Petey who both looked concerned, “Y/N is in the ER. I gotta go.”

The boys barely got out a few reassuring words to Tito before he was out the door and driving to the hospital, worry lacing his body as he raced to where you were.

“She should be fine, she was extremely dehydrated when she was brought in so we started her on an IV. And I’m assuming the cough and cold have been going on for awhile?”

“About a week.”

“Sounds about right. She’s developed acute bronchitis but it’s very mild so we’ve already started her on a course of NSAID’s to help with the the inflammation. She’ll need plenty of rest the next few days.”

“Okay, thank you so much.”

Although you couldn’t tell who the other person talking was, you quickly determined it was a doctor talking to Tito.

Fuck…

That meant you were in the hospital, right after Tito tried to warn you about taking care of yourself. You heard the door shut and slowly peaked your eyes open, watching at Tito settled into the chair at your side and hung his head. His hands ran through his hair before he took a deep breath, eyes locked on the floor.

“Baby…,” you whispered, Tito’s head popping up at the sound. “Hi. I’m sorry.”

Before you could move a muscle Anthony hopped out of the chair, fingers running across your forehead as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “You scared the shit out of me.”

You sighed at Tito’s words, leaning closer to him, “I’m sorry. I thought I’d be okay at work. I should’ve listened to you.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m just glad you’re okay,” Tito leaned down to meet your eyes. “You are okay, right?”

“Yeah I got a migraine and went to stand up and…,” you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut to try and keep out the panic that clawed at your chest. “And then I woke up here. So I have no idea what happened.”

Anthony sensed your panic as he pulled you into a tight embrace, his hands skating over your back slowly in a comforting manner. Just his touch on your skin had your breathing slowing, body relaxed in his hold.

“The doctor will be back in an hour to make sure you’re okay then I’m taking you home and you’re not leaving bed for the next two days.”

“What if I have to pee?”

“I’ll carry you to the bathroom.”

“And when you have your game tomorrow night?”

Tito fixed you with a look that had you grinning instantly, knowing you were pushing his buttons, “You’re killing me here.”

“I know, but you love me right?”

“Yes baby,” Tito leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I love you so much.”

#anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #anthony beauvillier fic #anthony beauvillier imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nina writes

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averageallogene · 1 year ago

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hi! ive been thinking abt this for a while but could you do lyney x mermaid! reader 🩷

Lyney ♡⊹˚ Solace [SFW]

fem. reader (3rd person) ; fluffy fluff with a side of hurt/comfort, just because Lyney deserves the love :( ♡ ; reader is a mermaid! cw for diving (in case of any phobias!) ; Also mild spoilers of Act I of the first Fontaine Archon Quest.

3k words.

notes. Hi dear anon! ♡ Your wish is my command. Lyney with a mermaid reader is such a sweet idea, my fingers just began flying across the keyboard <3. I went with a fem. reader this time, I hope that's okay! If not, don't be shy to request a gn! version and I'll see what I can do. I hope you enjoy! ✧˖°.

The crowd cheered wildly, a standing ovation following as the pair extended their arms. Embracing the whistles and the praise was a reward the magicians were more than welcoming towards, even if reacting in different ways. A deep bow followed suit, the clapping growing louder, the cheering continuing for long minutes straight. The wooden floor boards beneath them even trembled, the mere satisfaction of their audience being utterly felt by the two even as they finally were released from the spotlight as the curtain slowly descended.

Lyney and Lynette had remained there, hands held together, him smiling and her remaining elegantly still up until they were no longer faced with their crowd. It was only after the maroon fabric concealed them that they could finally relax their muscles, their hands lowering before letting their breath go freely. Another show was successful, much to their pleasure.

"Good work, dear Lynette." He'd congratulated his brilliant sister, smiling with pride whilst attempting to conceal the way he was tired. It was unsuccessful, yet his sister didn't comment on it.

"You as well." She quietly hummed, the two exiting the stage before equally congratulating their team for their efforts. It was only as they were assured they were alone, that she spoke again. "Did you find anything?"

Lyney took his intricate hat off, gently placing it on top of his vanity. He focused to no point in particular, his gaze getting lost on the most minor of details as he sighed quietly.

"No, I didn't. I couldn't… Go far." Beneath his breath he admitted, his fingertips tracing the edge of his top hat as he could watch from the corner of his eye his sister, who remained still. "I think it's too early for us to go back on the hunt so boldly, no?"

"You might be right," Lynette's brows visibly furrowed. "Yet still, we can't fail Father either."

Silence. Lyney -could feel the knot on his throat tighten. Suddenly, his dressing room felt suffocating.

"I know." Was all he mustered. Nothing more was needed, anyway. Lynette knew she was touching a sore topic, and as such she herself stopped from speaking further about it.

It simply was still too fresh. Lyney feared he'd get himself, or worse his sister, in any trouble were he to attempt to further investigate the Oratrice right now… surely Father would understand. Right?

His head weighed heavy, spinning uncontrollably with everything that swarmed his mind for those past couple of days. He barely managed to account for everything being in its right place before he was already out the door and towards the Opera's exit, his sister inquiring hastily.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes, I just need some fresh air." He offered her a tired, albeit still honest smile.

"Ah, I see." She was quick to understand, nodding her head. "Just be back in time to spend some time with Freminet. We promised."

"Do not worry dear Lynette, my little brain shan't fail me." He waved her off with a hum, his feet quickly sending him flying off the tall and imposing building.

The bustling sounds of the crowd slowly dissipated, the blurry conversations blown with the wind as Lyney felt the breeze caress his face. His black boots carried him off to one of the shore lines of the sea, his expression finally letting go of all the tension he hadn't realized he had up until then.

There were no roaring cheers, no suffocating applause, no rush between his colleagues to rearrange and secure props. There were no Archons to amuse, no Fathers to make proud. There was no need for a charming magician, nor the need of loyalty of one of the House of Hearth.

"Lyney! You made it!"

There was only need for him to be Lyney, himself. And at that moment he smiled vividly, rivaling the very sun with how bright he shined. His pace became slightly quicker, crossing through the pearly sands as he reached one of the taller rocks near the shore.

There stood one of the very few people he knew he could be truly himself with. One that cared for him as he was, one that had no ulterior motives for wanting to love him. An enchanting figure to his life, a breath of fresh air that helped him calm from all his worries.

"Of course I made it, I'd never promise something I didn't intend on upholding my dear!" He laughed quietly, carelessly entering the refreshing waters until they were up to halfway his thighs. He opened his arms with twice the energy and yearning he’d usually display, enveloping his love in his warm embrace as she giggled blissfully. “Have you been waiting for too long? You’ve dried up already…”

“No, don’t worry.” She reassured him, shaking her head before holding both his hands. “It wasn’t long, I promise.”

“Is that the case…” His eyes squinted, a hint of playfulness evident in his features as he reached closer. His pretty eyes scanned her figure, noting how only her tail that was still submerged in the freshwater was obviously wet. Even her lovely hair had, at that point, half dried. If those weren’t the dead giveaways as they were, the way her tail had begun to slowly sway from one side to the other whilst creating the smallest of ripples on the water definitely was. “This keen eye tells me otherwise, mon coeur.”

Her face finally cracked, morphing into the prettiest of pouts that did wonders at pulling at his heartstrings. “I… I just- I just missed you a lot, so I might’ve come up ashore a little earlier than usual…”

Ah, Lyney’s very eyes seemed to reflect hearts as his very own melted. “Oh, my dear [F/N]... I’m sorry, had I known I would’ve rushed quicker!”

“N-No! No no no, absolutely not, there is no need!” The mermaid squeezed his hands tighter, all the while her magician remained there, leaning against the same rock where she sat, a loopy smile never leaving his lovestruck face as she spoke. “You have a lot to do, a lot of responsibilities, I don’t want to impose anything upon your schedule, Lyney!”

Well, there was the smallest part of him that… Perhaps hoped that she would. True, Lyney had a lot of responsibilities to his being, and he knew better than to avoid them; but it was those small escapades he’d do with his lovely [F/N] that refreshed his existence, recharged his batteries to take on everything else he needed to do. She was his solace, his comfort, and there was about nothing he’d deny her were she to ask.

Yet all the same, the fact she didn’t ask of anything more of him than his true self to be with her when he could, was one of the many reasons he loved her so dearly.

“Ah, I remembered,” Her back straightened up, the prettiest pink rising to her cheeks as she eyed him ahead with a cheery smile. “I-I had… Something I wanted to give you but, I didn’t know where to hide it until you came and…”

“You got something for me?” He seemed genuinely surprised, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he remained fully focused on her figure.

[F/N] in turn nodded her head. “It’s nothing special really, but still… I was hoping I could give it to you.”

“Oh now I am most curious,” Lyney breathed out with a wide smile, his hand quickly finding her face before stroking her cheek. “I’m certain I will absolutely adore it, love. Anything you give me is worth the world.”

The mermaid could feel her heart beating louder at his honeyed words. [F/N] knew that he meant it, too. And so, even as she herself wasn’t fully convinced, she kindly asked him to wait for her, before diving right down the fresh waters. Lyney watched as her tail swayed quickly, the figure slithering into the translucent waters before vanishing. He remained there as asked, the smile ever present on his face as he waited.

It was quiet… It felt nice. His head was mostly rested, emptied of all that troubled him. All he could focus was on the soft sounds of the water, ripples as the small waves reached his skin, up until they were stirred as his [F/N] reemerged to the surface. Her pretty hair now clung to her figure, a few strands hiding her glistening eyes as the color on her face rivaled the blooming roses he too adored. She swam his way, his endearing smile beckoning her as he sat himself comfortably to properly welcome her back. With his legs slightly parted she rested against him, her long shimmering tail hanging close to his legs as she doted on his very presence.

“I… It really isn’t anything special, honestly.” [F/N] spoke softly, all the while Lyney listened attentively with an encouraging smile. “It truly pales in comparison to the gifts you’ve given me but still. I hope you’ll like it, Lyney…”

She shifted, her arms bringing to the surface the subject of the conversation. The magician gently held his hands out, the wondrous gleam of a child present upon his face as he waited in anticipation for the kind gesture of his lovely girlfriend. Carefully his hands were blessed with a small object, a delicate conch with the most simplest yet beautiful shapes. It was a cleaned clam conch, its exterior seemingly mundane as it sported its most common shade - this much he knew, from the few times he’d witnessed Freminet freely talk about every little trinket he’d find during his divings. Still, the smile he gave [F/N] didn’t fade, in fact it seemed to only grow, his mind only swarming with how she’d picked that conch specifically for him. It had been something she’d gone out of her way of giving him, and no matter how simple it might’ve been, the gesture made his heart burst in happiness.

In turn, his mermaid remained silent, a shy smile on her damp face as she calmly turned the item around. It was finally time to study Lyney’s face, her heart hoping for any sight of wonder. And truly, Lyney’s expression didn’t fail to amuse, his pretty lips parting as he let out a soft ‘oh’ - the inside of the clam wowing him with its exquisite colors and shades. Its interior gleamed, the hues of violet and pink dancing in a beautiful array of color. It seemed to glitter when wet with the crystalline waters, in its small surface hiding away the sparkle that could truly outshine a starry sky.

“My, [F/N]... It’s beautiful.” Lyney had breathed out, the corners of his mouth lifting in the most genuine of smiles he’d bless her with. His eyes glanced to her own, the smallest pink dust now on his cheeks as he held it close to his heart, his sweetheart in turn smiling as well with his honest reaction.

“I’m glad!” She sighed softly, her arms resting on his lap as her shoulders tensed slightly. “In truth, I got you this conch because its interior… It reminds me of your beautiful eyes.”

The smile he previously had slowly faded, though it wasn’t due to anything more than the sheer surprise her statement brought him. The magician blinked twice as he took her words in, his hand reopening to examine the gift once more. That same wondrous shade of violet the conch had… Had it reminded her of his eyes? Did his [F/N], perhaps, see his eyes in such a light?

“They’re a similar shade, though I still think your eyes are far prettier…” [F/N] confessed, her voice nearly drowning amongst the waters as she whispered in such a soft tone. By that point she rested her head on his lap, the love in which she gazed upon him with being enough to rival an entire ocean. “Everytime I swim through the waters, I find myself fixating on the prettiest little things. They always seem to remind me of you… Whether it be due to the similar color of your eyes, or how they remind me of the stories you’ve told me- L-Lyney?”

He hadn’t even realized how the tears had begun to overflow, streaming down his round cheeks as he attempted to compose himself. He simply couldn’t however, an embarrassed and short chuckle escaping from his throat as he attempted to clear the droplets of water away. His smile was trembling, the blush on his face worsening as his eyes grew a little red. Why was he even crying? It certainly wasn’t what he wished for, worrying his sweetheart in such a way… One thing he was certain of though, it wasn’t due to sadness. He felt his heart bursting instead, overjoyed despite the delicate state in which his emotions were. It was as though everything had overwhelmed him, the way in which [F/N]’s words patched a hole in his heart and soothed him, sending him over the edge as he tried to fight back against the knot that was forming on his throat.

“Ah, I’m sorry, darling. I-I’m okay, I ap-pologize for crying in such a sudden way, I-I didn’t want you worry you-”

“It’s okay, look at me…” [F/N] hushed him softly, bringing herself a little more out of her water before coaxing him to pry his hands away from his face. Lyney could only oblige to her, feeling as her damp hands gently caressed his hot skin, cooling his cheeks as her thumbs cleaned the tears away. Her eyebrows were furrowed in honest concern for him, gazing deeply into the same violet eyes she had declared to adore so deeply. “...You’ve been feeling overwhelmed, haven’t you my love?”

It had been her turn to read him like an open book, the weak and semi-forced smile he’d mustered being enough of an answer for her. He was by that point attempting to hold back the sobs from escaping, though it was as though Lyney himself wasn’t even sure how he’d suddenly unraveled in such an indecent way. He was happy at that moment, he was sure of it, yet it had been as though [F/N]’s pour of pure love for him had opened the lock that kept everything else away, as well.

In truth, he hadn’t felt so… Loved, for a long while.

He knew he was loved and cared for, yet still. Those past few weeks had been rough. And the mere way his dear [F/N], an innocent person who had little to no idea of all of his uglier sides, could so deeply love him to the point where the most simplest and beautiful things reminded her of him - it had shattered him into the most beautiful million pieces, like glitter that fell down into oblivion.

“Here...” [F/N] softly hummed to him, her embrace enveloping him as he didn’t think twice to reciprocate. Lyney held her tightly, her tail close to his lower body as she held him carefully, letting him seek the comfort he needed on her shoulder as she lulled him above the water. “It’s okay… You must’ve been very busy with everything in your life, haven’t you? Are you doing okay?”

He could only nod, attempting to reassure her he was alright, hanging by, at least. [F/N] never pressured him to reveal more, which was always something he deeply cherished. He never wished to hide anything from her, yet all the same, he knew he was selfish for never wishing to warp her perception of him… After all, once upon [F/N] knowing of all of him, would he still be able to be only Lyney with her, too?

“And are Lynette and Freminet okay, too?” She questioned gently, her voice humming as they stood there, floating in the refreshing waters. Again he nodded, a sigh of relief escaping her as she stroked through his hair gently. “I’m glad.”

“Sorry, love, I didn’t want our little date to go this route,” He heaved softly, finally gathering the courage to lift from her neck, eyeing her with a small frown. Instead of finding any look of concern or disappointment however, his lovely girlfriend instead smiled gently at him. “I assure you, I am very happy with your gift and your presence, it’s just…”

“It’s okay Lyney, don’t apologize. I will love you regardless, you don’t have to always force happiness. Everyone needs to let it all out from time to time.” His grasp on her only tightened after that, his smile more genuine as he basked in her words. “You don’t have to tell me everything if you don’t feel ready to, I’ll still be here for you! Now, how about we go for a swim to try and lighten up?”

“That sounds… Like a wonderful idea.” He hummed, leaning into her touch as she cleared the last few tears that spilled out. It was his turn to rest his hand on her cheek, caressing her skin with all the love he had for her, leaning in before planting a small yet still meaningful kiss to the corner of her lips.

In turn, the mermaid giggled in satisfaction. “Good, are you ready?”

“Ah yes, let me just…” Quickly he secured the gift she’d given him to one of his pockets, ensuring it wouldn’t float away to his possible dismay. [F/N] watched with endearment over how he seemed to cherish the small gift so religiously, her hands guiding him deeper into the waters before they finally submerged.

The waters were tranquil, enveloping the two of them like a welcoming blanket. The current was soft and welcoming, the bright sun allowing them to view the ecosystems perfectly as they swam. [F/N]’s hand remained locked with Lyney’s, her pace slower than what he very much knew she was capable of as they went side by side. Together they went through the lesser known paths of the giant coral reefs where [F/N] resided, the small otters she shared her home with welcoming them with cute squeaks as they swam nearby them. Lyney smiled as one brought another conch to him, this one simple and pink in color, his girlfriend giggling along before having another look at it.

“They seem to adore you!”

“Is that so?” He laughed softly, his hand squeezing hers tighter as they swam a little quicker. “Mhm, do you think they’d find a magic trick a fair payback for their kind gesture?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’d find it amusing,” He watched with happiness as she laughed at the mere idea of him entertaining a bunch of otters with his cards. “Even I am curious about how that would go, now!”

“Then next time we come swimming, I will be sure to bring my deck.” Lyney nodded his head, utterly serious about his next endeavor. After all, an audience of cute otters… Well, they weren’t cats, but cute and easier to please nonetheless.

[F/N] cautiously led him through the shoals of fishes that swam throughout the pristine waters, smiling as she pointed along, telling him more of each species. The magician could only smile and listen, the mere sound of her voice easing his heavy heart, casting all pressure aside as his worries were washed away with the current. Their swim wasn’t long, yet it seemed to be effective in easing his mind, providing him the comfort he needed to rebalance his state of mind. Before he knew it and wished for, the time for him to leave approached, and knowing so as well, [F/N] gently led him back to the surface, their journey ending on the same rock in which they would regularly meet at.

Lyney still remained there for a little longer, his body soaking in the sun that was still up in the sky. He patiently waited for most of his clothes to dry, conversing with his lovely [F/N] all the while as they shared laughter and reminisced over fond memories. And when he no longer could avoid his inevitable departure, he leaned down, meeting [F/N] halfway as she remained mostly submerged under the water.

“Thank you, mon coeur. I can’t properly express just how much you mean to me…” He’d breathed out, it fanning over her face in a gentle notion that caused her to blush in response.

“It’s nothing, Lyney. I love you, after all. Anything I can do to help you, I will.” She smiled sincerely, the magician swearing he could only hear his heart bursting with the loveliest of fireworks.

“Then…” He leaned closer, his fingers stroking her jawline softly. “Will you give me your afternoon tomorrow? I would love to whisk your attention away for myself, if you’ll indulge me…”

The way her eyes sparkled at his suggestion made him fall in love all over again. “Of course! I will wait for you here, as always.”

“That’s my good girl.” He smiled with both mischievousness and adoration, his lips capturing hers once more. Against his chest he held the conch she’d gifted him, having ensured he hadn’t lost it amidst their voyage. “I will be back tomorrow, okay darling?”

“And I shall be here, my love.” [F/N] whispered, another faint kiss being shared before Lyney forced himself to finally get up.

It always was as though a piece of him remained with her each time he left, a small and painful gap in his heart remaining unfilled until he would inevitably return. Yet still, he would have it no other way, for in his beloved mermaid’s hands lay his heart, bare and true, for her to safekeep.

Lyney was many things - a magician, an older brother, a member of the fatui. But with [F/N], on those waters that would wash his worries away, he could be simply himself, no labels attached. And were anyone to call him selfish he’d fully embrace it, for it was something he would always protect, and never give up. She was his solace, and he would forever treasure her for the unconditional love she provided.

#genshin lyney x reader #genshin impact lyney x reader #lyney x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #yoko drabbles

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meltedbluecaterpillar · 3 months ago

Text

L’appel Du Vide

you are here! - ch. ii - ch. iii - ch. iv - ch. v - ch. vi - ch. vii - ch. viii - ch. ix - ch. x

A/N: The notes on tumblr will be different than the ones on Ao3. I pulled this from within the pit in my heart. I made this for a reason. And I hope that you hate and enjoy it.

tags: Rook Hunt x fem!reader, aged up au (both characters are 20+), kidnapping and imprisonment wc: 2.8k+

Your janitorial equipment rattles slightly in its cart as you turn the door knob to the now vacant hospital room. The rays of daybreak peek through the curtains on your last room for this shift, your shoulders relaxing knowing you were so close to going home. The man who once occupied this space had finally been discharged. You hadn’t ever seen him but apparently he had been asking about you. A lot. One of the on staff nurses wanted to gossip tonight. She told you about the oddball staying in the now desolate room. Apparently the patient had seen you come into the hospital before your shift started one night and hadn’t stopped talking about you until he was finally released. He claimed to have fallen madly in love with you, saying you looked exactly like a rabbit he was trying to catch in his recent dreams. However, he had come into the hospital a few days ago due to a bad head injury. The person that brought him in said he was fond of climbing trees and a branch he was sitting on snapped.

It was strange knowing someone had been that hyper focused on you. You didn’t interact with patients at all. You only cleaned the empty rooms and the lounges late at night. But you couldn’t let yourself feel bothered by it. He was injured and confused. You never saw him, and the nurses would never give up important information to a stranger. You shook the thought away as you turned up the music on your airpods and finished cleaning the hospital room. The woman at the front desk wished you a good morning as you waved goodbye with your jingling keycard in hand. 6am on the dot. Now you could make a quick breakfast and head to sleep. You had the next three days off to recover and get the things done that you had been putting off.

It was hard to juggle a night shift job and your normal life. But you always made it work somehow. You had to, you lived alone after all. You opened the door to your tiny apartment, slipping out of your shoes with a light kick of your feet. It was another day of proving your parents wrong. They didn’t believe you were capable of independence. They wanted you to stay where they could see you, regardless of how old you were. But being 21 meant that you should have all the freedom to do all of the adult things you could dream of. Drinking a cold beer under the summer sun, buying a strawberry flavored vape like your favorite coworkers, and even just owning your own apartment. You just wanted to finally be recognized as an adult. You packed up your things and surprised them with the announcement. Right before taking off the next morning with the last of your things. It has been six months since you’ve been on your own. You loved it. Decorating your apartment how you saw fit. Eating what you wanted when you wanted. Staying up late and sleeping all day. And complete privacy to do whatever you wanted in your rented space.

You turned on the light with a quick squint of your eyes from the brightness. Your apartment was tiny. A neat little studio on the fourth floor of your complex. Usually you wouldn’t mind taking the stairs, but today you felt so tired that you caved and used the often desolate elevator to take you up. It was always quiet since you worked late night shifts cleaning at the hospital. You loved the peace and your neighbors did too. You bumped the door to your apartment shut with a yawn and stretched your arms over your head, causing your joints to pop. Entering the kitchen to make a slice of cheesy toast before you showered with your keys tossed haphazardly onto the resin coated counter.

Your appetite dwindled significantly in favor of sleep the longer you stood in the kitchen space. The ‘after work high’ never lasted as long as you wished it would. But you could always clean and make a snack when you woke up in a few hours. You finished your toast and slowly undressed, dropping your clothes to the floor as you entered your bathroom for a quick rinse.

Your skin always lingered with the scent of lemony cleaner and Lysol spray. It used to make you nauseous when you first started cleaning overnight. But after a few months you stopped gagging at the overwhelming aroma. You lathered yourself in soap, making sure to watch your hair and face. You brushed your teeth with heavy eyelids as your hair started to coil at the ends, dripping with water. You finished up, drying yourself with a towel and shutting off the light to your bathroom. You slipped into your comfortable pajamas and made sure your curtains were drawn tightly as you eased into bed. Your blankets hugging your body as you sighed with content. When you woke up, your days off would begin. You could wash your laundry, go grocery shopping, make plans to see your friends when the sun came back up, whatever you wanted to do. Your parents always fussed over the world being scary and dangerous but you always saw them as just paranoid because of social media telling them there are monsters and fiends that live online. They didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. But they were just too overbearing. You could take care of yourself just fine.

You’re fine.

You were fine.

You didn’t remember falling asleep at all when you settled into bed.

You remember a haunting dream. Or maybe it was a terrifying memory considering what was happening now.

The feeling of being folded into an impossible shape and crammed into a wooden box. Your wrists and ankles are bound with plastic zip ties that dug against your skin, something soft and cottony was stuffed in your mouth with an adhesive you assumed to be tape covering your lips. You were staring up at the orange and purple sky with exhausted eyes that never seemed to close. You watched the sky devoid of soft, white, cottony clouds go from the orange sunrise, to the delicate blue of the day. Soon transitioning to the violet and orange sunset, then pitch black with not a single star to be seen. All of this was witnessed through a tiny, circle shaped hole above you. Your body remained folded like origami paper into that impossible shape. Aching painfully to be freed from the suffocating wooden box you were stuck in. Slowly drifting and rocking to an unknown place before you had closed your eyes again. The smell of salt water, the sound of crashing waves. This was supposed to be an odd dream. A very uncomfortable and traumatizing one. Not a memory. You wished it wasn’t a memory.

A crunching sound caused your eyes to snap open. Like something being cut. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the new scenery around you. It was an unfinished basement, completely empty. Wooden steps leading upwards to a doorway you couldn’t see. A small window where pale yellow light came pooling in, and a dim, orange lightbulb above to illuminate what the natural lighting couldn’t. Dust particles floated around the air, giving an odd feeling of normalcy.

The oddest part was the man sitting only a few feet away. He sat on a wooden chair, balancing a white ceramic plate on his knee with a hum as he carved an apple slice into the shape of a bunny with long, apple skin ears. He looked strong. Pale, muscular arms exposed, lightly speckled in pale brown freckles. His black t-shirt pulled taut over his chest. Khaki cargo pants that stretched over his strong thighs. He was wearing black combat boots and he would occasionally tap his foot as he hummed and carved. His hair was short and blond, pulled back into a ponytail as he worked with those same light brown freckles spotting the bridge of his nose. The oddest part was that he was doing this with his eyes closed.

This was a skill he practiced enough to do without being able to see.

Your expression became troubled as you noticed the difficulty of moving your body. Your arms were bound behind your back and so were your ankles. Thick, scratchy rope dug into your skin, replacing the plastic zip ties. It rubbed the flesh raw and bruised as you laid on your side against a hard cement floor. The part that made you actually panic was the fact that you were completely nude. You wriggled around, trying to sit up on your knees as the cutting sound halted. “Vous êtes maintenant réveillé.” It was the man not too far from you. “Bonjour, mon lapin.” You didn’t speak French.

Tears of panic welled in your eyes as you lifted your gaze to meet the strange man. “I-I’m sorry do you speak english? Do you know what’s going on?” You wanted to reason him as you pulled your knees up towards your stomach the best you could. At least for some form of modesty. His eyes opened. A vibrant green, something that would usually entrance you with the soft and hypnotizing shade. But they held no light. No warmth. Empty and hollow. The man didn’t see you.

He saw ‘mon lapin’.

“Ugly American-English,” He chuckled and pointed the knife at you, bobbing it in his hand with a soft tsk of disapproval. “I teach you, eh, comment dire mes objets préférés.” His accent was a little thick. But you could understand him enough to not ask him to repeat. He didn’t seem much older than you which made this all the more frightening. “To have you imported was difficult. I feed you now.” He beamed happily and tucked the knife into the belt of his cargo pants. He grabbed the plate and moved to stand from the wooden chair as he approached you. Imported? “N-No there’s a misunderstanding-”

“Non, no misunderstandings. You are… Rabbit! You look just alike.” He chuckled as he stood over you, looking down at your naked body bound with rope as you struggled not to tremble and burst into tears. You wanted to go home. You wanted to go home now. Tears started to roll down your cheeks as he kneeled, setting the plate gently on the floor with a clack. He reached around to roughly tug you by your bound arms into a sitting position. You yelped and cried, stress sweat collecting on the back of your knees and under your arms. You tried to kick away from him out of fear with a shake of your head but he softly shushed you as he picked up the plate and showed it to you with another tug on your bare body. Pristine, lined in rabbit cut apple slices and stray pieces of dark red skin. “You eat, or you die.” He continued to smile as he took one of the slices between his pointer and thumb. “Ouvrir.” He instructed sweetly.

Your eyes darted anxiously from his fingers to his face. Eat or die. Not an intentional threat. It didn’t feel like a threat, just him genuinely saying you needed to eat. “Ahhhh.” He sang as he pressed the sliced fruit towards your lips. Your body was shaking, tears continued to fall as you awkwardly parted your lips and looked downwards. You accepted the sliced fruit. It was sweet and slightly bitter on your tongue. The odd man seemed to be pleased with your response as he watched you slowly chew and look around the basement with a meek sniffle.

You’re playing house with a disturbed person. If you could earn his trust, you could get out of here. You finished and swallowed, looking sadly at the plate and then the smiling man. “I… I can feed myself…” You didn’t want the stranger’s fingers so close to your mouth. “Non, I do it for you. For now.” His tone was still kind, yet firm. He would feed you this time, and probably the next before you would be allowed to eat with your hands. He pressed another slice to your lips and watched you eat. The process continued until you had finished all of his little carvings. You felt full and a little calmer now. But that didn’t change the fact you were still a captive. The man rubbed the top of your head and gave you two small pats before moving to stand with the now empty plate. “I will bring water.” He assured as he turned and walked away, heading towards the wooden stairs with a soft hum.

You listened to each step and counted silently. Following along with the pounding of your heart. You counted 18 steps in total before you heard a door swing open and shut. Your mouth was cotton dry now as you blinked away the last remaining tears you had. You used your feet to push you towards the wall until your back was flat against the cool, stone surface. You didn’t hear any voices from upstairs. For now, you assumed the stranger lived alone.

He didn’t seem upset with you asking him questions. But if you were too invasive that could change. You weren’t in a position to make demands yet either. You could only wait for now even if you felt like you wanted to vomit from anxiety. All of the survival skills you had seen online and in thriller movies had faded away like a worn shirt print. You had no idea what to do except stay calm and think. He seemed familiar somehow. But you didn’t remember ever meeting someone who spoke French the way he did. In Highschool you had friends that took a class, saying it was such a stupid language. None of the words sounded the way they were spelled. You would have better luck understanding Morse Code before you could learn French. The door swung open again, then shut. You counted 18 steps before the man appeared again. He was holding a glass of water in one hand, and a yellow book in the other. “Je suis revenu! Je t’ai manqué, mon lapin?” He was cheerful as he approached you slowly, mindful of his speed so as to not startle you. But you could see he was thrilled to interact. It was extremely odd. You really were playing house with this guy. He kneeled again, placing the book in front of you. “French for dummies?” You read the cover out loud, wanting to force an amused laugh. But you could only guess your captor was growing sick of using English. “Relationships need, eh, communication? We speak your Ugly American English, we speak mon romantique françias.” He cooed as you nodded slowly in understanding. “It’ll be hard to read with my hands tied.” You joked awkwardly as he cupped your chin in his hand and showed you the clear glass with a delicate shake to swish the see through liquid inside. “Not poison. It is water.” He was clearly trying to gain your trust as well.

This whole situation felt bizarre. You had read books, watched TV shows and movies, even listened to TrueCrime podcasts about how kidnappers were willing to throw you in a basement and leave you for days. Torturing you for fun and doing whatever they pleased with your body. But the worst you’ve experienced so far is being tied up and naked. He hasn’t threatened to hit you or kill you yet. It really feels like he sees you as a pet and not his captive. If he wanted to rape and kill you he already would have. Unless this is just a fucked up mind game?

He repeated the phrase ‘Ouvrir’ and you parted your lips. He helped you drink, allowing you moments to catch your breath before giving you more. “I will make hands useable. After you finish water. You may read.” He explained as you went to get another sip. “You will eat again and drink again when I am, eh, returned? When I come back to you. You eat your lunch.” He was having trouble explaining in english. This could be why he also needs you to learn French. Usually captors don’t care about stuff like that right? You finished the glass still craving more water. “You’re leaving me here?” You tried to sound anxious. Hoping to be as convincing as possible. “Oui,” He nodded with a grin as he began to grab you by your arms again. “to get lunch.” He explained with a chuckle before raising your bound legs and twisting your body around until your hands were no longer tucked behind your back. “Please be good while I am away. I will leave you more water.” He offered kindly before rubbing the top of your head and giving you two firm pats. He took the glass as he climbed the 18 steps and closed the door.

You refused to sit and wait for him to come back. You needed to get out of here one way or another.

#absolute wickedness.#ch i #fem reader #horror au #aged up au #tw kidnapping #dead dove do not eat #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt x mc #rook hunt x yuu

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cyber97luts · 7 months ago

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∞༺♥︎༻✧𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°warnings: swearing, being delusional, mistakes

˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°wc: 550

.•*¨`*•. ☆ .•*¨`*•..•*¨`*•. ☆ .•*¨`*•..•*¨`*•. ☆

han pulled y/n into a spine crushing hug, "its been so long y/nnie." Han mumbled, his face buried into the crook of her neck.

Once the two released from the hug and y/n could finally fill her lungs with air, she beamed up at the taller male. "I missed you so much hannie, how have you been?" Y/n asked, eager to catch up with her longtime friend.

Just as Han opened his mouth to reply a cough came from beside them, the two snapped their head to see a bored hyunjin staring at the pair. "We have things to do y/n, and so do you han..." the taller male mumbled glancing between the two.

Han turned his attention back to y/n, ignoring their mutual friend. "Why do you hang out with him so much," he pouted, "he's such a buzz kill..." Y/n shook her head at this, a light giggle falling past her lips. "i would hang out with you more but you never text me," y/n stated matter of factly, as she leaned against the wall of the hallway they were standing in.

Han chuckled as he playfully rolled his eyes, "I don't text any-" "Han, what are you doing?!" Han was once again cut off as a voice called out to him from down the hall. Han whipped his head around to see a clearly annoyed Chris walking towards him.

"Channie-hyung," he groaned in disapproval. Bang Chan scoffed, 'channie-hyung' he mocked. "i told you to hurry up and get to the studio. I don't wanna waste my day here practicing, and i know damn well you don't either."

Y/n stood watching her friend get scolded by his...member? Han had mentioned a 'channie-hyung' previously, but that was months ago.

Y/n continued to watch not sure if she should intervene or not, she decided against it as this technically wasn't her business. She tuned back into the conversation listening as the somewhat unknown man said, "Say goodbye to your friend and get to the practice room." Y/n felt a shiver in her spine at his words. The man wasn't yelling but something about his calm, passive aggressive tone was intimidating.

Han waved to y/n as he mumbled a quick "buh-bye" before reluctantly walking towards the elevators. As han walked away the other man suddenly turned to y/n a small smile on his face. "Hi, im sorry about that...um..." He trailed off, not exactly knowing the woman's name. "y/n" Hyunjin suddenly interrupted, wanting to get this interaction over with so he could begin his own work.

"thanks hyun" The man mumbled, as he turned his attention back to the girl infront of him. "but yeah, im sorry about that y/n. Im Bang Chan, just call me chan or chris. im fine with either." Before y/n could respond, Chris continued, "Im sorry for the short introduction but i've really gotta go, Im sorry again." He mumbled with a small smile before turning around and rushing off.

A few minutes later as Y/n and Hyunjin stood in the elevator. Y/n suddenly turned to her friend, "hyunne...what's that guys twitter...?"

Hyunjin looked at her with the nastiest side eye, "be so fucking for real y/n"

☆ngl i spent all of my brain power on the writing portion n got kinda lazy on the smau part. im sry guys, ive been through a shit ton in the past few days but i rly wanted to upload cus im actually enjoying making this😭. i promise the next one will be better.

★masterlist

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕...

:;@allyrarara loading. . .

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bluejaysandblackbats · 11 months ago

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Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 8/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Eight: Pain in the Head

I hung out with Tim's friends and worked on character sheets. I spent three hours there before I told Tim I had to go. I had a great time. Don't get me wrong. But I was nauseous and didn't want to be sick at his house. Ives planned on sleeping over at Tim's place, so I didn't have to feel bad about leaving him home alone. I got a ride to the manor, and Bruce sat on the porch waiting for me as soon as I arrived. "Where have you been?" Bruce asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, Bruce... Can I go inside now?" I asked.

"You're pale," Bruce replied.

I wanted to lie down and nap, but I could tell Bruce didn't plan on letting things go. I didn't have the time or energy to explain myself, so I did what any reasonable teenager would do. I made myself throw up and burst into tears. "Jason," Bruce sighed before helping me to the family room. He couldn't accuse me of anything while I was sick. That and throwing up stopped the onset of a migraine.

"I'm so sorry, Bruce-."

"It's fine... When is the last time you took-. I swore I wouldn't ask you that," Bruce replied.

"I didn't think I needed them anymore... I thought I'd been feeling better lately," I replied. Bruce felt my forehead.

"I've been home for two days, and you-. Jason, I'm sorry for walking out on you. I wasn't trying to hurt you... I'm-. Our bond is different from the bond I have with anyone else. I'm holding on for dear life with you... And I know I'm losing you. I feel like you're slipping away when I look at you.

"I can't take the thought of knowing you suffered because I chose to leave you alone that day. Jason, you're so precious to me... And I'm terrified that if I let you talk about what happened, you'll say what I've been most afraid to hear," Bruce confessed. I wasn't in the mood for a serious conversation, but he was finally willing to speak about what happened to me.

"I don't hate you... And I don't blame you for what happened. I've been trying to tell you all this time," I paused, "I'm sure Dick told you I wanna die sometimes... But you don't realize what I have to experience every day."

Bruce exhaled through his nose. "Go ahead..."

"I wake up under debris almost every day... And then I lie about my nerve pain, which I know everyone can see. By the time I get to the mirror, I'm already so disheartened by the countless efforts I've made to appear normal that I barely notice my scars anymore. When I shower, my skin still hurts like the burns are fresh, and I want to cry, but if I do, I'd never get anything done. Then, I come down for breakfast... And sometimes the medications I'm on make me so sick I don't want to eat, but I know I'd be worse off if I didn't.

"Then I go to school, and you wouldn't believe what they say about me," I swallowed hard.

"Jason-."

"But I endure it because I know I have to... What I can't stomach is the isolation. Don't ice me out, Bruce," I begged. Bruce sighed.

"I don't know how-. I can't pretend that almost losing you didn't change the entire way I had to look at our life. You can't be Robin anymore, Jason, and I feel awful for having to take that away from you," Bruce whispered.

"You're saying our, but you mean mine. How can you expect me to step down from being Robin when you can't even walk away from being Batman?" I asked.

"Jason, it's been over a year, and you're still healing. I can't risk putting you out in the field again. Gotham needs Batman-."

"Bullshit," I snapped.

"Language-." "Oh! Go to hell! I told you about all my issues, thinking you would finally see me, and I realized you're no better than the rest of them!" I yelled. I couldn't help but get mad. I should've seen it coming. He'd never had the guts to say it, but I knew this was his way of shutting me out for good. It pissed me off. I threw my crutches and hobbled upstairs.

"Jason! Jason, you can't-!"

"Screw you!" I yelled as I went to my room. I slammed the door and packed my bag. I almost forgot I felt sick. He saw me as weak. That was the worst thing he could've ever opened his mouth to admit. He was no better than everyone that gaped and gawked at me. I was his walking tragedy, and I'd be damned if I let him treat me like a ghost.

I started packing with tears in my eyes. I wanted to get out of there before I said something vile. "Jason, don't be like this! Please come out and talk to me-."

"Bruce, I need to get the hell away from you before I say something I regret!" I hollered. "And I guarantee that if you follow me, I will never come home! Leave my crutches and get away from me!" I sat down and texted Tim. He was the only person I could trust at that moment. I asked him to come to get me, and he texted me immediately. I waited in my room until Tim texted me, and I left my bedroom. Bruce left my crutches in front of the door and retreated like always. I slung my duffel across my body like a messenger bag, hoping it wouldn't throw me off balance.

I swung the door open and left it like that. Tim took my bag and opened his mouth to ask if I was okay, but he kept quiet. It was for the best because I was in a particularly heinous mood. I fell asleep in the car and woke up in Tim's guest room. He was on the floor with Ives, eating pizza. My head throbbed, and I felt sicker than I did earlier. Ives glanced at me and got up to turn the lights down. "Sorry, were we too loud?" Ives questioned.

"No, I-. How long have I been out?" I asked.

"Thirty minutes... Maybe an hour," Tim answered, "Do you need an aspirin?"

I pressed my palms against my eyelids. "No thanks... Tim, do you-? Who carried me in?" I asked.

"We both did. Tim got you out of the car but wasn't strong enough to get you up the stairs. It was a team effort," Ives answered, "You're heavier than you look." I let out a soft chuckle despite the pounding in my head.

"Know how I asked you to move in with me?" I questioned. "Could it still work if it were the other way around?"

"You wanna live here?" Tim asked. I nodded. "Alright." I was shocked. I thought he'd say no, but he looked thrilled.

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jhkfan123 · 11 months ago

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enchanted- tom blyth | ch. 4

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

✦iv.

after your amazing actors on actors with jenna, you didn't even have a day to spare before rachel's get-together tonight. you had been to her apartment a few times. the only people you knew were going to be there was rachel, obviously, josh, and tom. maybe hunter but you weren't sure. you decided to dress in a smart casual look. it wasn't anything fancy, but showing up in sweats was not going to work.

after about 10 hours of finding parking, you finally got to her door and knocked. you thought Rachel would answer the door, but it was actually josh.

"hey, come on in!" he said. you gave him a side hug and got inside the door.

"it's so good to see you, josh." you said as you made your way out of the entryway. you looked around. you had always loved this apartment. it was simple, but elegant. floor to ceiling windows around all the walls, providing a beautiful view of LA. white furniture, with pink flower accents and beautiful gold mirrors. it was pretty much your dream apartment. she had jazz music playing over the speakers as background noise. you heard voices coming from the kitchen, so you made your way over there.

when you finally arrived at the kitchen, you noticed rachel, tom, and a few people you didn't recognize. rachel was wearing slacks with a beautiful sleeveless top. her hair was done and she was wearing a dark eye look. gosh she looked great. tom was standing next to her. in fact, he was helping her cut some vegetables. rachel always cooked for you guys. tom was wearing black pants, a green button up shirt. what looked like half the buttons were unbuttoned, it was his thing. you're not sure you've ever seen him in a shirt that was fully buttoned. there was a leather jacket on the counter, which you assumed was his. you hadn't met the other people in the room, but their style seemed to be similar to yours. when rachel finally looked up, she walked over to give you a hug. you embraced her. when you released from the hug, you caught tom smiling. smiling at you. he looked down once you made eye contact, which made you smile. you were feeling bold, so you made the first move to give him a hug. you walked over and hugged him. you felt his arms wrap around your waist. you let your head sink into his shoulder.

"i'm so happy you made it, y/n! i have to introduce you to them!" rachel said, she gestured to a group of three standing near her. you glanced up at tom and he nodded back at you. you took rachel's hand and went over to meet them. "guys," they all looked at you, "this is y/n, one of my best friends, i worked with her on hunger games. she's the best. y/n this is dahlia, steven, and zola." she gestured to each one as she named them off. you shook steven's hand first.

"hey girl, i've heard about you. it's so nice to meet you." he had a very feminine way about him. he seemed to radiate warmth, as his smile was very welcoming.

"lovely to meet you." you responded. next you looked over at zola. she was gorgeous. beautiful afro, amazing makeup and eye look, and an amazing outfit. she was very chic. "it's nice to meet you, zola." she took your hand.

"ok not to sound weird, but i loved you in your movie last year. and it's so good to meet you." she was also very charismatic and cheery. you laughed at her comment about your movie and shook your head. finally dahlia got your attention. she seemed shy. more quiet than the others.

"hi, im dahlia it's good to meet you." she hesitantly extended her hand. you took it with confidence.

"good to meet you too. i can't wait to get to know you guys more." dahlia took her hand back after you shook it. they all nodded. you turned away and grabbed yourself a glass of champagne. you had a sip and took in your surroundings again. the whole aesthetic of the place made you feel so safe. you tried to tune out everyone and listen to the jazz music. you had always loved it. you hated that it was put on as background music. sometimes you would listen to straight jazz for hours while you got work done. the way all the instruments and artist work together like clockwork had always been fascinating to you.

you were interrupted by someone calling your name. you looked around and located the voice. it was easy based on the accent. tom. he was sitting on the couch with josh and one other guy. dahlia was sitting on the couch, but farther away from them, not engaging in conversation. tom signaled you over. feeling giddy again, you made your way over.

"you like the jazz music huh? i saw you staring into the oblivion, listening." he commented. you sat down next to josh, who was the one person separating you and tom.

"oh my god i probably looked so odd." you said. you tucked your hair behind your ear to the best of your ability, but quickly put it back because you weren't debby ryan. you looked down into your lap.

"no, no you didn't look odd. it was kind of..sweet, actually" he said. you instantly got butterflies in your stomach. you felt your face get red. it was bad. you attempted to giggle it off, but there was no hiding the reaction you had. you caught josh give tom a look, almost like a proud look. you weren't sure what it meant.

"i'm sorry, i.." you attempted to cover for yourself but nothing came to mind. all you saw was tom smile and drop his head.

"any new updates in your life?" he asked. you were so thankful he moved on from the conversation.

"well yesterday i filmed my actors on actors with jenna ortega. keep that on the down-low, though."

"that's really cool. how was that?" again, he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. not a common occurrence. you saw the man next to him glance over at you. he tried to get josh's attention, and mouthed something to him you could not make out.

"it was really cool. really interesting. it was great to meet someone who had a similar career to me. thank you for asking, by the way."

"it's the right thing to do-" he was cut off by his friend.

"dude, are you not going to introduce me?" he said. he glanced over at him, his smile slightly faltered.

"oh. yeah. right. y/n this is brady. he's my friend and rachel has met him before, so that's why he's here. he works in the industry, but more behind the scenes." brady offered you his hand and you shook it.

"yeah, i've been talking to him, he's pretty nice." josh commented. you felt bad talking across him this whole time. he seemed to get that memo. "speaking of talking, i have to go tell rachel something. brady, come with me." you saw him gave a slight nod to tom as he stood up.

"bro what? i don't want t-"

"come with me brady." josh said, more assertively. brady shrugged and got up. without warning, tom got up and moved much closer to you. you weren't sure what to do. your stomach was all in knots. you laughed, slightly awkwardly. it was all you could think of.

"well that was strange. anyways, tell me more about this actors on actors." with him this much closer, you couldn't even remember you name, much less the details of your actors on actors.

"well, we had this really cool talk about how london is both of our favorite cities and if we didn't live in la, we would for sure live in london. and we also talked about social media and stuff."

"i love london. i mean i obviously moved to brooklyn and now la, but i really do love it. i had no idea you loved it so much." he said. you played with the bracelet on your wrist.

"yeah i do. i really want to visit again soon." you felt like a genius. a lightbulb went off in your head. "we should go together sometime." boom. genius.

"yeah, yeah we should go. that would be really fun, y/n." for some reason, him saying your name made the conversation even better. people who take the time to address you by name, truly care about you. at least, that's what your mom taught you. a very excited rachel approached you, with a tray in front of her. there seemed to be little mini appetizers on it.

"hey guys. you have to try these. it's a new recipe and they are delicious! please try one. tom?" she offered it to him first, which he gladly took it. then you took one. there was some sort of creme on top, but a savory bottom. rachel walked away and you tried it. she was absolutely right. it was totally delicious.

"wow, that's amazing, rachel!" tom spoke, a little loud, making sure he heard her. you nodded. she looked over at you and him and blew a kiss. he laughed. "aren't they good? oh. ok y/n i don't think you understand how much creme is on your face right now." you laughed. you were never the cleanest eater. you tried to get it, but according to tom, kept missing. "you know what? let me just-" he reached over and glided his finger across your nose, and slightly above your lip. his touch sent a shock through you. "got it." you played it off cool.

"thank you, tom." you hadn't realized how close the two of you had gotten over the course of the conversation. your knees were pretty much touching. you saw tom place his hand down at his side again. "what would i do without you?" you joked. he smiled briefly.

"i don't think you have to worry about that." he said. now the butterflies in your stomach were flying around even more rapidly. thankfully, josh sat back down, on your side now, meaning you and tom were still close. you looked over at him and began conversation.

...

after dinner, everything was wrapping up. you went to go say goodbye to rachel, who was talking to zola.

"thank you so much for everything tonight. it was great. you're an amazing chef, but i have to go" you said. you caught her attention and she pivoted. she gave you a big hug.

"thank you for coming, girl. i'll see you soon, ok?" you nodded. zola reacher her hand out again and bid you goodbye. you made your way around to everyone.

after saying goodbye to josh, you approached tom.

"hey tom i'm going to go, but i'll see you soon?" he glanced at you.

"oh! let me walk you to your car." he offered.

"oh no that's ok i'm right outside. besides, i can take care of myself. I took self-defense my ninth grade year, you know that?" he laughed.

"no but seriously, let me walk you. it's dangerous at night and it's almost 11." he placed his hand on your back and led you towards the door. you let him. there was no point in fighting, he seemed pretty adamant of this. when you got to your car, he ran around the car and tried to open your door. the door was locked. you watched as he confidently pulled on the door, just for nothing to happen. you couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"oh my gos-"

"not a word. at least i tried." he said, defeated. you snickered again as you unlocked the door. you gestured for him to try again. and, with less confidence now, he successfully opened the door. you stepped in.

"drive home safe, ok?" you nodded. "oh and y/n? how about coffee tomorrow, you know, just to catch up some more, talk about work?" you had never been this excited in your life.

"yes. of course. menotti's?"

"menotti's."

"alright, see you there at 10?" he nodded. "alright. goodnight."

"goodnight. y/n."

#tom blyth #jhkfan123 #hollywood #fame #coriolanus snow #hunger games #rachel zegler #josh andres rivera #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth imagine #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanussnow #hungergames #tbosas

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