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virgoilluminati · 4 months ago

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can u please write a jude fic where your in a talking stage and he comes over and you both make out for the first time 🤭

It's been a long time coming...

A/N: this is my first request in absolutely ages so tysm you have made my day ✨❣️ As I am now unemployed (😜✌️) i have a lot of free time before i head back to university. So please if anyone has any ideas lmk 🥹

Inspo: Jude and You have been close friends since high school, but after one very drunken night, you admit your feelings for him, right before he leaves for the euro's. When Jude arrives home, he has only one goal, to give you that kiss that you've been waiting for.

Oh, you had royally fucked up.

So royally fucked up that you probably shouldn’t leave the house for at least the next two days, perhaps a week, even a month.

You’d told your best friend that you liked him, in a sweaty club, the night before he was going to the Euros. With the drink loosening your tongue, you blurted it out without thinking. The look on his face said it all; he was stunned into silence.

You and Jude had known each other since high school. He was in the year above you, but you both shared a huge interest in football. While he played for the boys’ squad, you played for the girls’. You got really close in the last year of high school as he began prepping for the under-21s football team while you were preparing for university. You became each other’s anchor, someone you both could rely on, no matter how tough it got. You told each other absolutely everything. So when you blurted out that you liked him, it was as if you had shattered an unspoken rule.

You had been drunk. That was the justification you were giving. You didn’t know what you were thinking; you couldn’t control what was going through your head. You couldn’t face him, not now. The memory of his expression replayed in your mind, a painful reminder.

You had sent him one text message, mentioning nothing about the incident, just wishing him luck in the Euros. Maybe he’d just forget it even happened. After all, he was pretty drunk too.

You had spent all morning preoccupying yourself with your uni work, taking the dog out for a walk, cleaning your room… basically anything to distract from the impending apocalypse. But it was pointless; every other second, you would check the blue tick on the message, with a simple “read” underneath it.

Hey, I hope the head isn’t too sore from last night ahaha. Best of luck in the Euros, I’ll be screaming your name at the local, love ya. (Read)

His response came about three hours later. In that time, you had gone through all five stages of grief. First, Denial: you denied that you even told him, that it was a huge mistake. Anger: you were angry that no one stopped you, as it was an open secret between all of your friends but him, but they had let you blurt it out. Bargaining: maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, you know. You could just say it was a mistake or you didn’t remember. Depression: this would be the end of your friendship—that he’d no longer look at you the same way ever again. Acceptance: your life was doomed, and that was the end of it. However, when his response came, you hadn’t actually prepared yourself.

Yeah, my head’s fine ahaha, though I think you drank more than me in the end. Currently on the way to the airport, Trent says hi. Pretty nervous about the Euros, I can’t lie.

You sat there staring at the three dots, wondering what else he was thinking. You cringed at him mentioning your drunkenness. He not only knew but he must’ve remembered. Oh god, this was going to be awkward.

You didn’t respond, noticing the frequent three dots on his screen going rapidly on and off. Sighing, you attempted to make a joke, quickly sending back a response.

I’m sure Trent is feeling it right now ahaha, how many shots did he have last night again? Don’t be nervous, you’ll be ace!

His reply came almost instantly.

Enough to need a new liver, I’m sure. Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’re about to board, talk later?

You couldn’t help but feel relieved. He wasn’t addressing your confession at all. Maybe he really had chosen to forget about it. Or perhaps he was giving you a way out, a chance to pretend it never happened. Either way, you seized the opportunity.

Sure, have a safe flight! Catch you later.

With that, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn’t ruin everything after all. For now, you’d focus on the positives: Jude was still talking to you, and you still had your friendship, even if it was a little shaken.

The next couple of days were a whirlwind of activity. Jude was swamped with training and media commitments, so your interactions were mostly confined to texts. Despite the busyness, he made sure to check in frequently, sending you updates and little messages that kept the connection alive.

After the Slovakia game, which they won in a nail-biting finish, you received a call from Jude. You could hear the adrenaline in his voice, the excitement of the victory still fresh.

“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “Did you see the game?”

“Of course I did! You were amazing! That last-minute goal!" you replied, unable to hide the pride in your voice.

“Thanks. It felt good out there tonight. The fans were crazy. Nearly thought we were goners—"

"Nah, I knew you'd pull through."

"Really?" His voice sounded hopeful, as if he had more to say, but instead, he coughed and continued talking. "Uh, listen, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Okay, what’s up?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said."

"What I said? When?" you responded, your heart beating faster by the minute.

"The night before I went, about you liking me. I thought I could just put it aside and focus on the tournament, but… I can’t.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jude…”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel. And the truth is, I like you too."

Tears pricked at your eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. I hope you don't mind, but I told Dec and Trent, and after they completely humbled me, they made me realize—I think I've always had a bit of a thing for you. It’s just… I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You won’t,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

There was a moment of silence, then Jude let out a breath. “Okay. One step at a time. I like the sound of that.”

For the rest of the night, you talked about everything and nothing, letting the conversation flow naturally. The tension from the confession began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and excitement.

The next game was against Switzerland, and you decided to go out to the pub to watch it with a couple of your pals. The place was buzzing with excitement, filled with fans donning jerseys and scarves, and the energy was infectious. As the match began, you found yourself nervously scanning the screen for Jude, your eyes automatically seeking him out every few seconds.

Your friends, of course, noticed.

“Honestly, if you stare any harder, you might burn a hole through the screen,” teased Sarah, nudging you playfully.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks. “I’m just… making sure he’s doing okay.”

“Sure, just making sure,” Mark chimed in with a grin. “We all know you’re head over heels.”

“Guys, can we please just focus on the game?” you said, though you couldn’t help but smile.

As the match progressed, every time Jude touched the ball, your heart seemed to leap into your throat. You could hear your friends’ comments in the background, teasing you about how intently you were watching him.

“There he is again, Y/N! Are you taking notes on his every move?” Sarah laughed.

“Come on, give her a break. She’s just a supportive friend,” Mark added, though his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

You tried to ignore them, but the truth was, they weren’t entirely wrong. You were more invested in Jude’s performance than anything else. When he made a particularly brilliant pass, you couldn’t help but cheer louder than anyone else.

“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” Sarah remarked, shaking her head in amusement.

The game was intense, with both teams playing aggressively. Jude was in top form, making crucial plays and demonstrating why he was such an asset to the team. As the game neared its end, with the score tied, the tension in the pub was palpable.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude.

Jude: Gaffer gave us 5 minutes, couldn't wait any longer to not text you.

You: What are you doing?! You're supposed to be on the pitch.

Jude: I think this is going to penalties, I feel it.

You quickly typed back, trying to infuse your message with as much confidence as you could muster.

You: Don’t worry, you’ve got this. I believe in you.

There was a brief pause before his next message came through.

Jude: Listen, how about this: if we win, I’ll take you out on a date.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at the screen, rereading his words. A date. With Jude. Your heart was racing now for an entirely different reason.

You: Deal.

The penalties were agonizing to watch. Each kick, each save, each miss, had the entire pub reacting in unison—groans of despair, cheers of relief, gasps of anticipation. You were barely breathing, your eyes fixed on the screen as if willing the ball into the net with sheer force of will.

Jude stepped up to take his shot. The pub fell silent. You could almost hear your own heartbeat. He took a deep breath, ran up, and kicked. The ball sailed past the goalkeeper and into the net. The pub erupted in cheers, and you jumped up, your shout of triumph mingling with everyone else’s.

The penalties continued, and finally, it came down to Trent. The pressure was immense. If he scored, England would win.

The pub fell silent again as Trent prepared for his shot. You could feel the tension in the air, your heart pounding louder than ever. He took his position, focused, ran up, and kicked. The ball flew towards the goal, past the goalkeeper, and hit the back of the net.

The pub exploded in cheers. People were hugging, high-fiving, and celebrating. You couldn’t believe it. They had done it.

Your phone buzzed again.

Jude: We did it! Can’t believe it. Guess I owe you that date ;)

You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart soaring with pride and excitement.

You: You were amazing! We're so proud!! I can't wait x

Jude: Trust me, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N.

You spent the rest of the night celebrating with your friends, the victory and Jude’s promise keeping your spirits high. Amidst all the revelry, one thing was clear: your relationship with Jude was about to take a new and thrilling turn.

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions and excitement. Jude’s team had just secured a 2-1 victory against the Netherlands. The pub you were in was filled with joyous celebration and raucous cheers. You knew Jude would be over the moon, and you couldn’t wait to hear from him.

Soon enough, your phone rang with an incoming call from Jude. You stepped outside, away from the pub’s noise, to answer.

“Hey, Jude!” you answered, your voice bright with excitement. “Congrats on the win!”

“Y/N!” Jude’s voice was noticeably slurred, and you could hear the background noise of a lively celebration. “I can’t believe we did it! We actually won!”

“I know, it was amazing!” you said, smiling. “You were incredible out there.”

“Thanks!” Jude’s words were slightly jumbled. “I’m just so… so buzzed right now! Remember when we were kids and we’d dream about moments like this? It’s really happening!”

“I know, it’s like a dream come true,” you said warmly.

“And you were always… so pretty, you know? I never really understood why you’d hang out with me,” he continued, his voice full of affection. “Everyone loved you, and I was just this goofy football guy.”

You felt a blush rising. “Jude, it didn’t matter. We had so much fun together.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “I always thought… thought you were too good for me. I was just this guy with a big dream, and you were this amazing person who could have been anywhere.”

“Well, I was where I wanted to be,” you said softly. “With you.”

Jude’s voice grew more tender. “I’ve always admired you, Y/N. Even back then, I was captivated by you. The way you carried yourself, the way you looked—it was like you had this light that drew me in. I was always amazed by how stunning you were, both inside and out.”

You could hear Bukayo’s voice faintly in the background. “Jude, mate, turn the phone off. You're pissed-"

Jude chuckled, though his tone remained affectionate. “I can’t help it, Bukayo! Y/N, you have no idea how incredible you are. I mean, just thinking about you—how beautiful you looked back then and how stunning you still are—drives me crazy.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Jude, you’re making me blush.”

“I’m just speaking the truth,” he said earnestly. “You’ve always been this amazing person, and I’ve been lucky to have you as a friend and now… maybe something more.”

You felt a warm flutter in your chest. “I’m really glad we’re sharing these moments together. It means a lot to me.”

Jude’s voice grew more serious, though still a bit tipsy. “If we keep winning, I want to make sure we celebrate together. I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“I’d love that,” you said, smiling. “For now, enjoy the celebration. You’ve earned it.”

Jude’s laughter was warm and content. “Alright, I’ll let you go. But I’ll call you again soon, okay?”

“Sure thing. Enjoy the rest of your night, Jude,” you said.

As you ended the call, you couldn’t help but smile. Jude’s heartfelt, tipsy confessions and the sound of his celebration had deepened your connection, making you realize just how much you both meant to each other. The future felt full of promise, and you were excited to see where this new chapter would lead.

When England lost 2-1 to Spain, the crushing disappointment was felt by everyone, especially Jude. As he and the team made their way back, he couldn't shake the feeling of defeat.

You, back home, had been anxiously awaiting any word from him. After a few hours, you decided to check in, hoping he was doing okay.

You: Hey Jude, are you alright? Just wanted to check in.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude. The text was brief, but the words were heavy with the weight of the loss.

Jude: Not great, honestly. It's been a rough night.

You felt a pang of sadness reading his message.

You could picture him, lost in thought, longing for comfort.

You: I'm so sorry, Jude. I wish I could be there with you too. You wanna hang out tomorrow? Watch a crappy horror movie and crash on my sofa?

The reply came back quickly.

Jude: Sure. I could use a little cheer up. I'd better go, journalists want a chat before we board.

You stared at the phone, hoping your words brought him some measure of comfort. You knew how much this loss meant to him, and how hard he had worked for this moment. The idea of him being alone in his thoughts broke your heart a little more.

You wanted to do something special for him, something that would show him just how much you cared. An idea started to form in your mind, and you sprang into action.

First, you pulled out his favorite hoodie from the closet. It was slightly oversized on you, but it felt like a warm hug. You wore it while you tidied up the apartment, making sure everything was perfect for when he got home.

Then, you went into the kitchen to start cooking his favorite meal. The process was therapeutic, each stir of the pot a way to channel your nervous energy. As the aromas filled the room, you felt a little more at peace, knowing that you were doing something to help him, even from afar.

As the hours ticked by, you kept checking your phone, hoping for any update on his flight. Finally, a message popped up.

Jude: Just landed. See you soon

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly finished setting the table, dimming the lights to create a cozy atmosphere. You lit a few candles, their soft glow adding a touch of warmth to the room.

When you heard the key in the lock, you rushed to the door, your heart pounding with anticipation. As the door opened, there he was, looking exhausted but so incredibly relieved to see you.

Without a word, he dropped his bags and pulled you into a tight embrace. You held him close, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body as he buried his face in your neck.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I missed you too, Jude," you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair. "I'm so glad you're home."

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with gratitude. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you."

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. "Come on, I made your favorite dinner. Let's sit down and talk about everything."

Later on, after you had let him get everything off his chest, you decided to watch a movie, something that would probably become background noise. As the movie played, you and Jude sat side by side on the couch, the tension between you that seemed to dance in time with the flickering images. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, and every time your arms or legs brushed, a jolt of electricity shot through you.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

He was staring at the screen, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. The furrow in his brow, the way his jaw tightened, the constant fidgeting-he was still wrestling with the aftermath of the game.

You wished there was something you could do to ease his mind.

As if sensing your thoughts, he turned to you, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry I've been a grumpy sod."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "No, don't be. I'm your friend!" You smirk a little as you made eye contact with him for the first time that night. "I'm just glad you're here."

The movie continued, but the air between you grew thicker with unspoken words and emotions.

"Listen. About what I said-"

"We don't have too-"

"No we should! Because, i know I've been swept up with all of the euro's but- I meant what i said. I like you."

"I like you too."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you more frequently, and each time you met his eyes, it was like a silent conversation passed between you.

"Do you remember the last time we watched a movie together?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, you fell asleep halfway through."

He grinned, the first genuine smile you'd seen from him all night. "I was exhausted. You have a way of making me feel very relaxed. Always have done."

"It's a very good thing," he replied, his voice low.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his eyes. The movie, now a distant background noise, was all but forgotten. The distance between you seemed to shrink with each passing second.

"Jude..." you began, but the words caught in your throat. "I-." His eyes looked up and down at your lips as you settled into his embrace. He looks for any uncertainty before he continues.

"You make me feel seen. Like I can't hide anything from you. It's scary really-"

"Is that so-" you smile, your eyes casting over his lips.

"Mhmm. You make me such a good person-"

"Jude, just kiss me already." You laugh. He smiles instinctively,

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "Can I...?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The world seemed to hold its breath as your lips finally met in a soft, tentative kiss.

It was like a spark igniting a fire, the kiss quickly deepening with a hunger that had been building all night. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss grew more intense.

You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed against him, the kiss growing more intense. His lips were insistent, exploring yours with a desperate need. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your own racing pulse.

Jude's hands roamed, tracing the curve of your back, sending shivers down your spine. Your skin felt electrified wherever he touched, each caress igniting a new wave of desire. You gasped as his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking gently at the sensitive skin.

"Jude," you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your throat as he continued his exploration, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.

Your breath hitched when his lips found the hollow of your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You arched into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The heat between you was almost unbearable, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf you both.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for breath, you looked into his eyes and couldn't help but smile. "Do you know how long l've wanted to do that?" you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of relief and desire.

Jude chuckled, resting his forehead against yours.

"Probably as long as I have," he replied, his breath warm against your lips.

You both knew this was just the beginning, but for now, the world outside could wait. All that mattered was the two of you, tangled in each other's arms, finally giving in to the desire that had been simmering between you for so long.

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cheriladycl01 · 7 months ago

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Hey! Your fics are amazing. I couldn't see if you were taking requests but if you are would you be comfortable writing a Pierre Gasly x Leclerc!Reader maybe where the reader is obviously a Leclerc sibling and has known Pierre for years and have also been dating for years and the brothers find out and are not happy about it.

Thank you and keep up the amazing writing!

🐨

You are royally fucked - Pierre Gasly x Leclerc! Reader

Plot: Y/N Leclerc grew up attached to her brothers, being a twin to Arthur and looking up to Charles and Lorenzo meant that you'd always been extremely close to your brothers and you travelled round the world with two of them as much as you could, but your brothers weren't the only reason why you attended races when you got older.

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! Sorry it took me a while to get round to it!

You'd know Pierre since 2010 when you and Arthur followed Charles to karting. Arthur was obsessed as much as his older brother over cars and so all three would kart.

You and Arthur were in the same division but still followed Charles to the higher levels too see him perform which is how you met Pierre.

You were 10 and he was 14, just a kid where you had a crush on your older brothers friend.

It was stupid and went away with time as Pierre was just someone kind to you when you were around your brothers. You saw him every race weekend. You'd bring him cookies you'd baked and he'd bring you a charm for your bracelet which he got you another one off on your 13th birthday as there were too many.

As you got older karting yourself became less and less of an interest and you only would show up to watch your bothers. Arthur continued on like Charles through the feeder series.

But as Charles progressed he became more and more absent. You weren't allowed to travel across the world with Charles unless your parents or Lorenzo were there too look after you, and you started to miss your brother more and more until it took a toll on you.

You started acting up, not going to school and it put a strain on your relationships with all of your family.

Charles wasn't around enough to see it but the rest of your family did.

When Charles finally got to F2, your mum promised you could go more, and it was great until your dad got sick and he couldn't travel anymore.

You were angry, not at anyone in particular but at the world for everything it was throwing at you. And you tried to run away, you ended up outside the casino in Monte Carlo, lost and upset.

It was actually Lewis Hamilton who found you, he couldn't comprehend why this 16 year old girl was alone in the streets of Monaco. You guys talked for ages and he convinced you to go home, you parents were so angry with you they grounded you and you were banned from going to any of Charles races.

Then your dad passed away, and you were devastated and were even more angry. You were 16 and had so much hate for the world, Arthur, Lorenzo and Pascale had no idea what to do with you. So they sent you to boarding school for a year until you were 18 and could make up your own mind.

While you were there you clicked with a group of people who all were influencers of some sort, and having Charles as a brother and him being announced into F1 for 2018 it wasn't hard to accumulate a following.

You stayed in the UK until you were 21, all you friends from boarding school went to university so you decided you'd stay with them and get a degree. Despite missing lots of school you were actually a very smart girl and had excellent grades.

Once you were 18, Arthur started to invite you to more of his races. And Lorenzo and your mum were always asking for you to come home... but your Charlie still hadn't realized everything you'd been through.

It wasn't until his 24rd birthday you saw Charlie properly. He noticed how different you were, you weren't the 16 year old he left all those years ago. He just pulled you into a massive hug and it didn't seem like the time to unload everything on him.

You saw Lewis that night, and he recognized you right away coming over and laughing about how he didn't think you'd end up being his competitions little sister when he helped you out all those years ago.

Then, you saw him ...

Pierre and that was night everything changed.

"Pierre?" you asked looking over the taller male, smiling softly not having seen his face in person for a while.

"Y/N?" he asks in shock, cocking his head to the side.

"The one and only" you grin and he just stares, still shell shocked about your presence.

"I haven't seen you for years!" he says pulling you into a tight hug that you melt into, his big arms encasing around you and making you feel safe.

"Where have you been?" he asks, looking over you face.

"Argh i just obviously got so sick of seeing you and Charlie all the time!" you smirk, taking a sip of the Negroni in your hand.

"Mmmmm, and to think. I thought you used to have a crush on me" he chuckles looking down and laughing.

The few drinks you'd had brought for you by your brother and all the drivers who recognized you had got to that confident place in your mind.

"Oh i did, hard core" you say with a straight face making him squint his eyes at you seeing if you were telling the truth.

"You sound ... different" he offers leaning in and tucking some hair behind your ear. If Pierre was being honest he'd never seen you as anything but a little sister, that was how he treated you when you guys were younger.

He didn't know if it was the club lights, the alcohol, your changed accent and looks, or a mix of all of them but he was looking at you like you were the only girl in the world for him.

And you noticed.

"That's what years of schooling in the UK will do for you and having friends who love to take the mick when you butcher the pronunciation of something" you giggle.

"You still sound Monegasque though" he grins, still hearing that twang.

The rest of the conversation was history as you went back to Pierre's hotel room, spending the night with him.

At this point you'd been dating Pierre for 4 years. Everyone noticed since 2021 how much more common your appearance in the garage was. Obviously your twin was there as a development driver for Ferrari, and Charles as a Ferrari driver also meant that people knew you were there for your brothers.

But little did they know you were sneaking off to the Alpine garage in search or your boyfriend.

“Hey baby” you grinned to Pierre, happy to see his face and plant kisses all over it.

“Ahhhh, how are you cherie” he mumbles into your neck. 2024 hadn’t been a great season for Alpine, and 2025 hadn’t started off great either. So you being there in the garage to cheer him up or calm him down was a must.

Charles never really questioned where you left too, he assumed it was to see Logan and Oscar who would often be found teasing Arthur all still being relatively close from their F2 days in Prema.

“Im good, just a little tired” you smile cuddling up to him on the little sofa in his drivers room.

“Mmmmm” he says and he seems like he isn’t fully there with you.

“What’s wrong, somethings on your mind” you ask, looking over him.

“I’ve been thinking” he says looking down at you.

“That’s never good” you joke but his face tells you that this will be a pretty serious conversation. One that you could tell had been playing on his mind.

"What is it what's wrong?" you ask, taking his hand in your own.

"We need to tell your family soon... it's been 4 years of being a secret and I want to show you off. I want to be able to take you out for a nice dinner in public and not fear getting caught. I want you to move in with me, and I just think it's time we tell them!" he admits, all very quickly and he watches as you take the time to process what he has just admitted.

"You want to tell my brothers?" you ask making sure you weren't jumping the gun.

"Yes, I cant help but feel ... guilty is not the right word but do you get what i mean?" he asks and you nod.

"Yeah, why don't I ask maman... she can make us a nice dinner tonight after the race and I'll say I'm bringing my boyfriend?" you smile and he nods.

You walk away to call your mum, leaving Pierre to leave his drivers room and walk to the garage where he would be starting the race soon.

"Maman?" you ask into the phone as it connects.

"Y/N darling where are you. We've all been in the garage waiting for you!" you hear in French and you chuckle.

"I've been, somewhere else. Maman i need to ask you something!" you ask as you exit the Alpine hospitality, trying to go as unnoticed as possible.

"What is it?" she asks, concern washing over her voice.

"I want to introduce you all to my boyfriend tonight..." you say although it comes out as more of a question that anything.

"WHAT?" she yells down the phone and you visibly cringe.

"Y/N Leclerc, get back to the Ferrari garage now!" she chides before hanging up the phone making you bite your lip anxiously.

You walk back to Ferrari as slowly as possible not wanting to feel that wrath of your mother who has probably already told Lorenzo and Arthur.

"Hey..." you say awkwardly as you go to where they are sat in the garage with all their headphones on.

"You have a boyfriend?" Lorenzo asks

"And you didn't tell me... us i mean!" Arthur cries out as Lorenzo elbow his side hearing him talk about himself.

"Maman! You told them!" you exclaim, not in shock as it was highly likely she would spill the beans to your brothers, but more in frustration that she did.

"Y/N! Why would you not tell your family about this... how long has this relationship been for?" your mum asks making you bite your lip and look down.

"4 years" you mumble and you mother huffs asking you to speak up before you say it in French, turning away not wanting to see their reactions.

"You've been with a man for 4 years and not told any of us! Not even Arthur! You tell everything to your twin!" You mum exclaims in shock.

"Obviously not everything ..." Arthur says sounding really upset before walking off, making tears fill in your eyes.

"I'm, we're ... happy for you. Really! But you know we worry about you... especially Charles. I dread to think how he's going to react when we tell him!" he laughs.

It was just you and Lorenzo right now, your mum having gone off to find Arthur.

"Loz, can i tell you something that you cant tell anyone?" you ask looking at him. Your oldest brother was always the best at knowing when you really really wanted his attention and that it was something serious.

"Go on!" he says, looking over you.

"You promise you wont say anything!" you look over at him and he nods, holding up his pinky which you swiftly take with your pinky too.

"I promise!" he sighs.

"It's Pierre" you blurt out, an eyebrow of Lorenzo's raising.

"What's Pierre?" he asks.

"The person who I'm dating... it's Pierre!" you admit and his eyes widen.

"Oh... you are royally fucked!"

And that you were. When Pierre entered the house all hell broke loose. Charles was yelling, Arthur too, Lorenzo was trying to calm everyone down. Maman was being quiet just watching the chaos erupt. Alex and Charlotte didn't know what to do. Pierre was just listening to everything that Charles was yelling at him.

It wasn't until you started sobbing that Charles stopped and looked over at you.

"Y/N... I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that!" he exclaims looking over between you and Pierre.

"I guess I'm just shocked... we were all friends and I didn't expect it!" he admits and you look down.

"Please, Charlie. I love him... just like you love Alex and how Loz loves Charlotte. He makes me happy, the happiest I've been probably ever!" you sigh and he nods.

"God, i cant believe your growing up!" he sniffles and you pull Charlie into a hug.

"It happens!" you chuckle.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly #pg10 #pg10 x reader #alpine f1 #charles leclerc fluff #leclerc reader #leclerc sister fic #charles leclerc x sister!reader

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nymphbroadcast · 3 months ago

Note

I had no idea how to go about this, but if it isn’t much to ask, could I request the Diasomnia boys with a Twilight Sparkle! Yuu/Reader headcanons. Romantic or platonic is completely up to you.

(P.S.A. Is it alright to put General Lilia instead of Present Lilia? I just really love Lilia in his General era, you don’t have to do this though.)

Diasomnia x MC! Like Twilight Sparkle

Sinopsis⊹ೃ🐉⋆ The Diasomnia boys with a MC! / Yuu Or S/O like Twilight Sparkle.

⊹Relationship⊹ೃ🐉⋆ Fall in love/ Free of interpretation.

⊹¡FEM! MC/Yuu/Lector ⊹ೃ 🐉

⋆⊹Clarifications: AAAAA I really loved this idea! Thank you anonymous for your request! Twilight is my favorite of the Mane Six and who I identify with sometimes, so I was really excited to imagine an MC! like Twilight with the Diasomnia boys, especially because of the plot that surrounds Twilight during the series, I kept many canon things about Twilight and Yuu from the game and the mangas, enjoy your request! PD: I'll also add Spike, because I love the older sister-little brother or mother-son relationship they both have ;)

⊹Twilight's Context⊹ೃ 🐉⋆

• Twilight is a character with great duality, she is very skilled in magic, she is intelligent and is always willing to acquire new knowledge, but that made her focus too much on just her studies and leave aside her social life, It is reiterated on several occasions that Twilight represents the Element of Magic and Dircord mentions that Twilight is the embodiment of magic, and in the comics Twilight's true magical ability is explored. On the other hand, more familiar, Twilight belongs to a family of high aristocracy, with her parents in noble positions and her brother as captain of the royal guard and she as the private student of Princess Celestia, who would later be her heir... At the beginning Twilight was apathetic to social events and even teamwork, which over time she began to fall aside and accept that friendship was not something like a distraction but rather an instrument to grow, both personally and intellectually. Twilight is a great leader, said on many occasions, she is able to recognize her mistakes and weaknesses, she also knows when to stop and does not put her pride before rationality for the common good, Although that does not mean that she does not have her negative sides, she can also worry too much and her tendency to worry about others often makes her fall into despair and paranoia, as well as when she is given a task of great responsibility and In her anxious process she begins to plan excessively and put all the responsibility on herself. Although as shown in the series, she always learns different lessons from her friends, who also help her constant personal improvement and as a future ruler.

Malleus Draconia

🐉 Oh someone catch this cute dragon boy because he's falling in love!

🐉 You are like a gift that his own magic has brought to him, you are so similar to him but so different from him too...

🐉 Something to sayis that you both are solitary (at least at the beginning) although you did it of your own free will and because of your desire to study, unlike him... Although that no longer matters, now you are his friend! and maybe... something else ;)... Something else that you both also share is your prodigiousness with magic, although since you were little you have the desire to learn more and you are talented and skilled through your own efforts and not just because you were born special.

🐉 Technically you come from a very high society, since being a star student of a famous princess **insert ur fav disney princess** surprises Malleus with your incredible social and magical position.

🐉 As your relationship progresses you introduce him to your little dragon companion, Malleus goes blank when he sees the young dragon even without his wings fully developed (don't even think about introducing him to Lilia, because Malleus's adoptive father will release the baby album Malleus) However, due to your friend's young age, Malleus does not see him as competition or in a jealous way. Over time, he may even come to see him as a son, believe me, he will become fond of him when he sees him being so close to you. and seeing you as a mother or older sister will soften Malleus' heart... Although, when you tell him that technically the little dragon is your son since as proof of the talent of your magic Malleus does not know what to say, since he has not even done something like effecting the birth of a being, he begins to respect you when he sees the magnitude of your knowledge and magic.

🐉 Although, returning to your flaws... Malleus doesn't know exactly what to do when he sees you enter a nervous and almost psychotic state when something happens that upsets you, he has never had to calm someone down before and the fact that that someone is you... Malleus decides to follow his instincts and Lilia's advice, words of comfort and physical touch, he hopes that that and his presence will calm your turbulent mind and to no one's surprise, it works.

🐉 As both have great magical potential, it would be necessary to see who has more knowledge, since Malleus has had some of the best magicians as teachers, but you have a Princess as a teacher and you have mastered countless spells with little effort, even mastering the light and dark magic (The return of the Crystal Empire, Twilight replicates Celestia's spell to open the door, in fact it is King Sombra's magic) and you handle different situations very well, which not only depend on your magic... Although anyway, you and Malleus meet to read and practice magic especially, since the magic that the Draconia possess makes you very curious and Malleus actually loves that instead of fearing his magic, it makes you very thirsty of knowledge.

🐉 Malleus is surprised how in a short time you have managed to learn the history of Twisted Wonderland and many of its nations, in fact you may be one of the few who really don't get bored in Professor Trein's classes, which is already an achievement, but see that you are seriously capable of storing all that data in your memory really amazes Malleus.

🐉 (Only a variant of the 'Cutie Mark' and a small suggestive hint are described here) Due to the type of NRC uniform your body is not exposed enough, but if you both reached 'that' moment, Malleus would quickly notice a cutie mark. a star and others around it on your hip, although he does not ask you directly, he investigates about this brand and discovers that in Twisted Wonderland this brand has been used multiple times to represent absolute magic, which leaves Malleus speechless and with heart pounding... Seeing that you are practically the incarnation of magic, he feels luckier that you are his and promises to take care of you and love you forever.

🐉 You are definitely someone very interesting in their eyes, in fact too much, you are always thirsty for knowledge and surrounded by books of all kinds, however from your side more people can see that you are a born Leader, loving and empathetic but firm and strict in the Maybe, for some reason, he feels that destiny has prepared a future for you as Ruler and he deeply hopes that it will be by his side.

🐉 Assuming that your promotion to princess would be soon, as well as Twilight's, you will have the big dragon boy attached to you for good and shouting to everyone in Twisted Wonderland that you will be his wife, he hugs you and coos at you whispering compliments and loving words of congratulations on your new status: "I always knew you would make it", "You look so beautiful even before you were an official princess" and "Now there is no excuse to hide that I love you, that we love each other, my dear~"

Lilia Vanrouge

(Present and General Lilia!)

🩸 The current Lilia would be fascinated in a good way by you, in his eyes he can really distinguish the pure magic that makes up your being and it amuses him to see how others seem to ignore it, even knowing that although you do not "belong" to Twisted Wonderland you are perfectly capable of using spells the size of Malleus himself.

🩸 While General Lilia would be intimidated and defensive, he is also able to sense your magic due to his proximity to Maleanor, but not knowing you or your intentions, it is normal for him to believe that you want to attack them, since that happens in wars and even more so. in one like that.

🩸 The present Lilia would have a lot of fun watching you deal with the Overblots and challenges that exist in the NRC, especially when you don't know the things like traditions and customs of Twisted Wonderland.

🩸 We already saw how shameless and to some extent cruel General Lilia can be, so don't be surprised when he doesn't believe that you are the student of a powerful princess or that you are equal or superior even in terms of magic to the Draconia.

🩸 The present Lilia would be absolutely delighted when she meets your baby dragon and memories of baby Malleus come like a waterfall, he does not stop fawning over the dragon and telling you anecdotes about when Malleus was a small lizard that barely existed (because don't tell me he didn't , there was nothing in that Malleus baby head) and also praise you because unlike the one who took 200 years to make Malleus born by giving him his own magic, you did it in an instant and without sacrificing your magic.

BABY MALLEUS SREAMER!!!

🩸 Unlike General Lilia, he doesn't know what to say about your little dragon companion, he's obviously not a draconian and although there are other dragons in Twisted Wonderland it's hard for him to associate them with the little one and he's even more stunned when he hears that your own Magic was what caused the birth of the dragon.

🩸 Lilia can see your strengths and vulnerabilities, he sees your constant anxiety and can't help but come to calm you down with words of support and, if necessary, knock you out so that your mind can rest, even for a minute. (In the case of General Lilia, he only use the last option.)

🩸 Although in the end, he ends up liking you for your duality in any way, he feels that somehow you will be someone great in the future and he hopes to be able to see you when that time comes.

🩸 In case you go out with one of his three sponsored children, Lilia would feel proud to see how you are a balance between 'humanity' and 'magic' and how honest you are in your affection towards the boy, and it has just been proclaimed adoptive grandfather of your little dragon.

🩸 On the other hand, if you are his partner, he will promise to take care of you and pamper you, make you feel at home with him and be a good father to your little dragon.

Silver

⚔ For Silver, you're so... Strange... In a good way, we all know he's not very social, so I don't think he's ever met anyone with as much thirst for knowledge as you.

⚔ However, if there is something he admires about you, it is your great capacity for leadership and self-sacrifice. Silver fully trusts you to wake him up if he falls asleep... Eventually.

⚔ In his free time, Silver likes for you to read a book aloud, it helps him relax and sleep better, regardless of the topic, Silver loves to listen to your calm and at the same time very interested voice in the topic of the book. +Bonus points if you let him put his head on your lap!

⚔ At the same time, you are incredible in magic and unlike General Lilia and Sebek, Silver has no problem comparing your magical potential with that of Malleus, for him you are actually admirable, given that you must not be more than 100 years old unlike Malleus. and yet you can cast spells of his Young Lord's level effortlessly.

⚔ Although more than your magical talent or the magic that emanates from you, what attracts Silver to you is how capable you are of facing situations that you possibly never thought you would experience.

⚔ It's not hard for him to believe that you're a student of a famous princess, considering he's seen you deal with Overblots and Dire Crowley's irresponsibility with ease.

⚔ Although it takes a while, he eventually becomes convinced of your magical power when he meets your little dragon companion and learns that you caused his birth and is practically like your son/little brother, Silver loves animals of all kinds as can be seen when he they surround him while he sleeps, so he will eventually become attached to the little dragon.

⚔ Although he won't believe you when you tell him that you used to be extremely asocial before coming to Twisted Wonderland, since he has always seen you accompanied by another first-year student and one of your two (Grimm and Spike) creature companions.

⚔ Although like Lilia and Malleus, Silver also notices the negative side of your personality, you are extremely anxious and prone to panic, not to mention when Crowley puts something important on you because he doesn't want to, although Silver wants to be careful and gentle when dealing with you to calm down, thanks to being educated and raised by Lilia, he ends up being a little... Brusque... With his words, although it surprisingly works. (Imagine Applejack kind of scolding Twilight, more or less)

⚔ Silver may be a lost prince and possess great magic from his dynasty, but even in his 'ignorance' he manages to identify your brand as the representation of the concept of magic itself and that makes him feel luckier to be with you.

⚔ Silver recognizes you as a great Leader, full of unknown potential and an attractive personality, even with flaws, Silver continues to see you as a beautiful balance between Magic and Humanity, something that attracts him more deeply to you, He promise to be the Knight to your future as a Princess, from now on. (And Malleus, of course)

Sebek Zigvolt

🐊 Sebek... Sebek... This is a complicated boy, at first he doesn't see you as anything more than a curious human with inferior, otherworldly magic.

🐊 And I'm sorry to tell you that this would be like this for a long time, until I can see more of your true identity and your magical power and as a person.

🐊 Rather, in Chapter 7, when he sees you fighting with your magic and comforting and helping Silver and Lilia.

🐊 Seeing you like this will make him remember your attitudes and why he suddenly changes his mind about you.

🐊 He understands your almost endless thirst for knowledge, he has seen you a couple of times in classes and admires that about you, no matter the subject you are always attentive, even with your energic friends on top.

🐊 Also remember your anxious side due to your worries and take note to help you (in your own way) with your anxiety attacks when you witness them, trust him, he is skilled with comfort even if it doesn't seem like it.

🐊 He obviously knows your little dragon and to be honest... He likes him much more than Grimm... He, incredibly idolizing Malleus and the Draconias themselves, will be incredibly delighted with your little friend, praising him for his helpfulness to you and his 'worthy' nature... Although he stiffens when you tell him how he was born, he slowly accepts that maybe... Just maybe... You could be much more skilled with your magic than he thought... Even almost like his Young Master.

🐊 Although yes, he is a little suspicious when he sees the symbol that you usually wear, he quickly recognizes it as the representation of magic itself and in reality, Sebek doesn't know what to think so he is patient.

🐊 Don't worry because this guy is slowly maturing and will eventually find you worthy of admiration and affection, without or with magic.

Nymph's Note:

I still don't know how to write to a romantic or loving Sebek, sorry T-T and sorry for take me too long, but I'm back again ♡

I hope you enjoyed!

Remeber to tune in, end of this broadcast!

Diasomnia Dorm x MC! Like Twilight Sparkle Done!

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unsuredreamer · 3 months ago

Note

is it possible for a Bridget x Reader where Red found out not only her mother's different personality in the past but also a has a childhood friend that both Bridget and reader has feelings towards one another is too shy about it but in the original timeline Reader was never mentioned because reader died in an accident that people assumed that it was Bridget fault because she is a monster and red also plans to prevent reader's death

Your Heart

Bridget Hearts 🩷 x reader

Kinda changed a bit but I still hope you like it!!!

Still open for more requests my loves ♡

"Bridget. You're better than this. I know that what happened was hard for you, but that was ages ago" Ella pleaded desperately trying to stop her ex best friend from taking over Auradon.

"Hard? It was excruciating, I relive it every day since" the queen coldly exclaimed.

"We all do. She was like a dream, but she is gone now. We have to move on Bridget"

"Don't you dare speak of her in my presence! You did not care back then." The Queen yelled out. "Now kneel" she gestured with her hand.

"I will never kneel to a tyrant"

"She's denied a royal order. What do we do about that, darling?" The Red Queen turned to her daughter smiling ear to ear. But don't let it get you. It's not the nice kind.

"Look, all you have to do is swear allegiance. Is that so hard?" Red butt in to Cinderella, she knew it was about to go down.

"If it means compromising everything I stand for, yes."

"Who are you loyal to Red? These strangers or your mother? Now make me proud for once" Bridget took a hold of Red's face, grinning like she was about to win. She was of course.

"Come on Bridget, even your daughter knows it's wrong, she can't do it" This sentence made something snap in Red, like a force pulling her towards the bad, a little devil sitting on her shoulder. But she felt vulnerable. Did she really want that? Her heart thumped in her chest."Treason! She's guilty of treason, and that means off with her head!" Wrong, it felt so wrong, to the point she felt dizzy, the whole world spinning.

"Exactly right, my dear! Off with her head!" The royal guards began walking the other queen, her daughter desperately trying to pry the others away. Red coming straight at her, her spinning head did not help in trying to take out the pocket watch and steadying her posture.

But she did, and what happened next was not what she expected..

~•~

"Now great! We traveled 20 years back in time! Fucking excellent Red" Chloe yelled, angered as her mother was just sentenced to death by the very girl standing beside her

"Calm down, little goody princess pop star. I meant to sent us back just a few minutes so i could take my mothers cards, but it took us here. I certainly did not mean to take you with me" Red remarked, thinking hard about why she ended up in this exact moment.

"Well, we're here now, so might as well undo whatever made your mom so evil" Chloe paced back and forth, clutching her sword tightly in her hand, something she did often while being stressed beyond heavens.

"And how exactly are you planning to prevent murder, Chloe?" The princess of Wonderland asked sarcastically. Because truly, how were they supposed to do it? They didn't know who did it, how, when, and where. It was all a mystery to them. It's like this death was completely erased from existence. No one mentioned it. After all, why would you reminisce such a sad and sudden death that became a start to many years of misery and tyranny of one of the cruelest rulers known of."We could at least, i don't know...try? My mom said it happened after a talk about flamingos?" What? Was she joking, really?

"Let's just look for our mothers for now."

And thats what they did, what brought them to this exact moment.

"Hey my love, how are these cupcakes you talked about?" A strange girl sat down on one of the benches in the school halls looking at Bridget, Red's mom, with such loving eyes just begging for an ounce of touch from the pink one. She must have heard her pleads as she sat down on her lap, throwing her arm around the others neck.

"They are great! I saved you one or two...plates" Bridget grinned. She could never do too little for the girl she was so desperately in love with. Although they claimed to be just bestest of best friends, too shy to admit they literally wore each other's hearts on their chests. "These flamingo feathers you went so out of way to get for me really turned out excellent as a topping." She smiled widely once again. Something you could never grow tired of. Her enchanting eyes and magical pink hair drawing you in.

"Who is that?" Red whispered to Ella, Chloe's mother.

"Y/n Cupid, Bridget's childhood best friend"

"Aree you sureee they are just that?" Chloe questioned as she smiled sheepishly. "It surely looks like more than that to me,"What a sight, seeing the cruel Queen of Hearts (who is now such a sweet and kind soul) be so lovey dovey with another person. That alone made Red's head spiral. Her mother was not mad evil? She was good-hearted? And she had a lover? That is something she would never grasp after all those years of fake smiles and cold orders.

"Mhm, they are. Although I strongly suggest them every day to make a closer move. They won't budge like stuck-up little kids."

"Well lovely, I will try not to eat them all in one sitting." You continued, taking Bridget's hand in yours, softly swiping your finger across her palm. Her breath hitched. It was something you'd done quite often, but even the slightest touch from you made her head dizzy and the goosebumps on her skin to pop instantly.

"Y-You, I" She stuttered out, nothing more coming in to her clouded mind, you giggled at her cutness, what resulted in you being hit by her in the head "Be careful, try not to turn into a flamingo, they are awsome but only one at a time sweetie" She kissed your cheek quickly, she was feeling bold, usually she'd just boop your nose or something. A kiss was a big declaration from her. She loved physical touch, she loved hugs, grazing or intertwining hands. But a kiss was something she preserved only for her one and only.

You were her one and only.

"Okay, it was nice meeting you, Red and Chloe, I'll be going now. I have a shit load of homework from Professor Merlin. Bye Ella, see you later B!" You sent them a kiss and dissappeared in the halls.

"Bridget!" The lovesick girl jumped upon her name being yelled out "She is so totally in love with you!" Chloe squealed, not being able to keep her excitement in, taking the princesses hands and jumping around."No, no. We are just friends. She would never look at me that way" Bridget sadly sighed, playing with her heart necklace she got from her 'friend'

It was a truly beautiful gift, just a necklace with a heart, but if you were to look at it from the other side. The necklace was made from silver, crafted by Hephaestus himself, the red heart was a gemstone made differently, it was a part of the glass heart of cupid.

Your heart.

You gave her your heart!?

How could she be so stupid not to recognize what a grand gesture of love it was?

You basically devoted your whole life to her, vowing to love her forever and always.

You gave her your heart...

"See, that's what I'm talking about!" Frustrated Ella butt in. "They act like a couple, but when you point it out, both of them are sooooo dumb to realize how the other is fe-" She could not finish because Red and Chloe were long gone. So was Bridget, even quicker.

As Bridget realized what an oblivious idiot she had been, she took a run after you, clutching the necklace in her hand. After a minute, she found you in the gardens.

The sight of your unconscious body made Bridget shiver, freeze, almost as if she had stepped foot on the Boomerang Nebula. She fell, her weak knees hitting the blood-stained ground. The once beautiful, white pebbles, turning maroon as the red liquid pooled out of the corpse.

A terrifying, horror like scream was all that could be heard...

No one would imagine a dead body with a spear shot right through the heart in the broad daylight while waking out on the school grounds. Hazed eyes, once full of life, staring longingly into the distance. And the strong grip of the hand, oh so soft, still remaining on the spear. The white button-up shirt peppered in small hearts growing more and more burgundy with each passing second.

She could not believe it. You were gone.

The love of her life

She could not stop the anger mixed with hurt and unimaginable sadness growing in her heart as she watched her lovers lifeless body. She threw a fit with the intention of hurting everyone in the mere distance. Luckily, no one was there to be hurt. Throwing her cards up in the air, shooting fires, and demolishing basically everything she could see.

Bridget broke down crying. There was nothing she could do to bring her life back, her life back.

As Chloe successfully shielded her princess from the fires and chaos thrown by her mother, Bridget fell on her knees once again. They stared at the scene before them.

They cursed themselves that they weren't able to stop the killing. They had failed.

Red felt absolutely terrible seeing her mother so heartbroken. She saw only the worst part of her. She never even thought there once was this sweet, kind, thoughtful, and such a loving princess within her. She wondered of all these good times she could have, with her other 'mom' too. As she was wishing she could've come sooner to stop this nonsense, however would she have done it, Chloe ran to her mom's younger version. Dropping on her knees just a couple inches away, wrapping the pink girl in her embrace. So strong, so comforting.

Bridget laid her head on her chest, sobbing uncontrollably, gripping Chloe's blue shirt so tightly she was most likely to rip it apart any second. That is truly what she needed, a warm presence holding her so she wouldn't go mad.

"Cry Bridget, I'm here for you," and that's what she did. She cried till she was out of energy to do so. She just stared in the distance, thinking of nothing. There was nothing left for her. She took ahold of her lovers hand, vowing to herself she'd never fall in love again.

And she'll keep your heart, just how you have kept hers.

Not all stories have a happily ever after, even if we try to change it

#bridget hearts #bridget hearts of wonderland #bridget #bridget x reader #bridget x fem reader #chloe charming #descendants #descendants rise of red #descendants rise of red x reader #descendants x reader #descendants 4 x reader #descendants 4 #fiction #chloe x reader #red of wonderland #chloe #cinderella

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minniesmutt · 5 months ago

Text

𝔇𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔢: 𝔢𝔭𝔦𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

♱ ━━━ PAIRING: OT8 X READER ♱ ━━━ CW: PREGNANCY MENTIONS, BLOOD MENTIONS, GANGBANG, ORAL (F. & M. REC), FINGERING, UNPROTECTED SEX, MULTIPLE ORGASMS, CREAMPIE, CUM EATING, MARKING, BREAST PLAY, SPIT ROAST, DOUBLE PENETRATION, ANAL + VAGINAL PENETRATIONS ♱ ━━━ WC: 2.2K

It took some getting used to. Being a vampire. But Y/n was glad she had eight partners to show her the ropes. She was ever so grateful to her Kingdom for putting aside their distaste towards the eight when they heard they had saved and taken care of their Queen. The church still fussed every now and then but the nine handled it. She’d earned the nickname “The Eternal Queen” after some time on the throne. After she was crowned, she had her father’s advisors arrested and now could have her own court. What better than asking the men who showed her love?

They all accepted with a smile and many people from their town moved to join her kingdom. The land the vampires ruled just became a part of her kingdom. No one there caused any trouble with the queen ruling. Even helped ease the minds of others.

Three years of her reign thus far and without someone breathing down her neck and reprimanding her for the decisions she made, the kingdom was prospering like years past. One thing she found a little too hectic was how fast her two children had been growing.

It was a month later after her coronation, she ended up pregnant again. None of them played guess the father—though Minho was very much pushing for it to be his after what happened last time. Chan explained that it was common for fledglings born of two vampires to grow quickly but he did not classify how quickly. Y/n reprimanded him later when she gave birth to the group’s baby girl about four and a half months later.

Even though she was all of their baby, there was no doubt it was Felix who was her biological father. The little girl was the spitting image of him. All the men cooed at the new princess and her little fangs.

“I gather she’ll drink blood rather than milk,” Hwan asked. The maid had chosen to come work in the castle with a few other staff members from the manor. A few chose to stay behind to just keep it clean if the nine chose to come back for whatever reason.

“I suppose so,” Y/n smiled as the boys handed her her daughter.

“You feel alright?” Chan asked as he brushed her hair back.

“Bit hungry,” Y/n replied

“I’ll go grab some blood,” Hwan said, leaving the family to be for a while.

Medical staff had already left and Hwan was tending to Y/n now. The boys insisted they could do it but really the girl missed the royal. Y/n missed her too honestly.

Even though she had gone through the process before, giving birth to her second baby wasn’t much better. It was easier though. Their son was seemingly the spitting image of Chan, just like her daughter was of Felix.

“It’s a boy,” their daughter, Nabi, pointed out. It had only been two years since she was born but she looked about double her age now.

“You have a baby brother now,” Jeongin said as Nabi sat on his lap.

“I wanted a sister,” She complained

“Doesn’t quite work like that princess,” Hwan reminded the little girl “It should.”

“She’s just like you when you were a child,” one of the older maids from the castle said as she helped the younger clean up.

Y/n loved her two children, just didn’t love how they were growing up. Chan had made it a point to get her as well as their children, day rings. The kids having to constantly get new ones with how they were growing. Chan assured her it would slow down but she wasn’t quite sure.

On top of the eight being her advisors, they had all gotten married. Everyone made a deal about having eight kings but the vampires assured them not all of them would take the throne. They decided, mostly given status, that Chan would publicly appear as the king but he was really more of an advisor. Letting her make all the decisions. Stood behind her when she had to make addresses. Uncalled for in their time but so was their relationship.

“Darling,” Jisung said as he walked into her study. She’d been working all day on a few trade routes needing to be up and she hadn’t realized how much time really passed.

“Hi, love.” She greeted him as he walked over to her desk.

��Kids are asleep. You should rest too,” He said, pulling the papers and fountain pen out of her hand

“Ji, we both know I don’t need sleep anymore.” Y/n sighed

“Just because you don’t need it doesn’t mean overworking. Come on,” Jisung pulled her up out of the chair.

“Ji,” Y/n whined

“Y/n,” The male returned the energy.

Y/n pouted at him only for him to laugh and wrap his arms around her. “I’m not making you rest love. We have a surprise in the bedroom though.”

“Mhm, what kind of surprise?” Y/n inquired

“You’ll have to see,” Jisung bent down and picked her up.

Y/n smiled and held onto his shoulders. Jisung carried her out of her study and into their room. The seven others waiting for them as they entered the room.

Once inside the room, Jisung put her on the ground and attached his lips to hers.

“Really Jisung?” Minho questioned the vampire's eagerness

“I carried her here. I think it’s fair I get first kisses. Plus if it wasn’t for me, none of this would be in this relationship.” The two bickered as Hyunjin came up behind her and kissed the side of her neck.

“Hi pretty,” He said as he pulled her away from the vampire's arms.

“Hi Hyun,” Y/n smiled, as she turned to face him. The rest gathered around slowly. Making sure everyone got their kisses after not seeing much of her for the day.

While Felix had her lips locked with his Changbin worked on unlacing her dress and undergarments. The boys worked to undress her completely before undressing themselves and pulling her to the large bed. Jeongin sat back with her on his lap. Y/n pressed her lips into his before he turned her around, her back against his chest. Seungmin kneeled next to them and pressed his lips onto hers whilst Jeongin attacked her neck. Both their hands spread her legs open.

Jisung took the chance to get back between her legs and lay on the bed between her spread legs. Jisung placed his hands on the inside of her thighs as his tongue lapped up the small bit of arousal that had started dripping out of her. Y/n moaned into Seungmins mouth before he pulled away and moved his lips down to her breasts. Hyunjin took the chance to connect his lips to hers as Jisung was making out with her cunt. Hyunjin’s tongue pushed into her and explored before pulling away and smiling at her. Y/n grabbed his thigh as Hyunjin sat up again. Her hand moved up and wrapped around her dick, pumping him before he took it upon himself to move closer and push himself inside of her mouth.

Y/n moaned around him as the other three toyed with her. The others waiting for their own turn. Hyunjin moved his hips and pushed himself into her throat as she moaned with each bit of stimulation they were giving her. She felt two fingers prod at her entrance, moaning as they entered her and Hyunjin spilled into her.

Y/n took his load before he pulled out and watched her swallow his load. Hyunjin moved away and Felix took the chance to replace him as she clenched around the fingers inside her. Seungmin marked up her breasts while Jeongin marked her neck. Both keeping her spread open and Jeongins free hand playing with the breasts Seungmin wasn’t marking.

It wasn't much longer till she came on Jisung’s fingers and he licked her completely clean. Y/n whined as he pulled away from her, Minho taking his place between her legs. Tip of his dick teasing her and making her whine around Felix. His cock twitching as Minho pushed into her. He took hold of her thighs, freeing the other's hands.

Minho let her adjust to him as Felix spilled down her throat before pulling out. Her head fell back onto Jeongin's shoulder as he lifted his head. “Doing so good love. Just let us take care of you,” Jeongin whispered in her ear.

“Want more,” Y/n begged

“Need another cock in you darling?” Minho teased as he slowly thrusted in and out of her

“Yes. Wan’ be filled with you all.” If they weren’t hard before, they definitely were after hearing that.

Jeongin slipped one of his fingers into her mouth and Y/n sucked the finger till he pulled out with a pop. He got his hand between her and Minho and slowly pushed his finger inside her. Y/n moaned before Seungmin sat up and turned her head to him and pushed his cock down her throat, watching her eyes roll back slightly. Jeongin fingered her ass slowly as Minho brought his fingers down to rub her clit as he slowly thrusted his dick in and out of her.

Jeongin slowly added another finger into her and spread her open from below. Y/n pulled away from Seungmin’s cock to beg the man below to put his cock in. Ever the ones to please their wife, Minho stopped his movement and allowed Jeongin to spread his precum around the hole and then slowly slip inside.

“Fuck,” Y/n moaned before taking her husband’s cock into her mouth again.

Jeongin moved slowly till he was fully sheathed inside of her. Giving her some time to adjust before moving with Minho inside of her. The two started slowly but she already was close to the edge of being completely filled.

Her body went limp with pleasure as she moaned and clenched around them. Minho and Jeongin both picked up their pace as Minho started toying with her clit again. Tipping her over the edge. The men groaned as she clenched around them. Jeongin spilled inside her first.

Shoving himself deep in her ass and coating her walls with his come. Seungmin moved his hips faster till he came in her throat. Minho fucked her harder before his cum spilled in her while Jeongin and Seungmin pulled out of her.

Minho pulled out as Jisung moved under her. His dick teased her ass before slipping in. Changbin took Minhos place and pushed his cock into her cunt. His hands held her open as Jisung moved his hands to grope her breasts as Chan offered his cock to her mouth.

Y/n took him into her mouth and sucked him off as the two fucked the other's cum back into her. Chan held the back of her head as he thrusted into her mouth. Her moans were muffled by his cock.

Her holes were being stretched and used but Y/n loved it. Loved them. Never has she regretted offering to play prisoner those years ago. Especially now as the three filled her more.

Each of them pushed deep into her as their cum mixed with the loads inside her as her own orgasm came again. The three pulled out and Hyunjin took Changbin’s spot. Laying back on the bed so she was on top. Felix took Jisungs place and the two slowly pushed into her. Y/n moaned as the two held her up and started pounding into her.

Strings of curses falling free from her mouth if there wasn’t a cock to keep her quiet now. Her hands were loosely planted on Hyunjins chest as the two pumped into her.

She’d only taken them all one other time, their wedding night. She somehow forgot how they were able to make her forget everything she’d ever thought about. Their hands roamed over her body, making her feel weightless. Knowing just where to touch her to get her to melt.

Felix’s hand grabbed her breasts as Hyunjin moved her hips with them. Her orgasm washed over before she knew it and the two emptied their loads in her. She blanked for the rest of the night. Tired from work and taking all eight of their cocks. Waking up in the morning with Hyunjin, Jisung, and Felix cuddling here.

“Passed out last night. We cleaned you up and tucked you in.” Felix explained.

“Not too much last night?” Hyunjin asked, kissing her shoulder

“No. Just been a while since we’ve all done it.” Y/n assured them

Y/n took the day to herself. Staying bed with her husbands, the eight coming and going at random, and her two children when they pleased. more often wanting to play in the garden with their dads.

It wasn’t long till she found out she was pregnant again. the family and kingdom being excited once more. Her daughter and son arguing over whether it is a boy or a girl.

Like the last two pregnancies, her husband’s took on a lot of her responsibilities so she could rest. And when the baby wanted to come out, all eight were there for her while Hwan took care of the two children.

Nabi was pleased to know she finally had a sister. But no one was happier than Minho. All nine parents knew when they looked at their little girl's big round eyes that she was his. He about refused to let anyone else hold her until Nabi and Minseok asked if they could hold the baby. Minho couldn’t say no to his kids.

♱ ━━━ PREV SERIES M.LIST NEXT

♱ ━━━━━━ M.LIST TIP JAR

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iiseult · 5 months ago

Text

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝓌𝑜: 𝒜𝓈 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒥𝑒𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓂

CWs → fluff, ANGST, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy, time-period accurate sexism, arranged marriage, descriptions of birth (not the reader), blood and mild gore (they don’t call it the dark ages for nothin!), one-sided pining

Wordcount: 5.1k

Note: Remember like three weeks ago when I lied to you all and said I’d have this out in a few days? I had to plan out a bit of the actual plot so that’s what took me so long. But I finally did it, so eat up! Also, I really do NOT know how medieval royal weddings worked but the shallow google searches I made weren’t good enough so let’s all hope this isn’t horribly inaccurate, though I’m sure it is. Do we care, chat?

Every day leading up to the wedding was a day that you saw red. Greeting your traitorous mother in the mornings made you see red, sharing a meal with your power-hungry father made you see red, and listening to the two of them prattle on about how you ought to behave once you were queen? That turned the world absolutely crimson. Each night, you crumpled up and clutched your skirts under the dinner table with shaking fists, creasing them with deep wrinkles that would take days to iron out, but all the while you continued to hold your head high, speaking only when spoken to just as you were taught as a girl. Your strained, thin-lipped smile was only let go of in the privacy of your own bedchambers, when it was replaced with a cold expression and even chillier disposition. Somehow, drifting apart from your family day by day wasn’t as painful as you had imagined it would be. It was easy, really, because there was nothing left for anyone to talk about. After all, your mother had always taught you that if you had nothing nice to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all. However, your sudden “demureness and obedience”, as they put it, did not go unnoticed.

Your parents were positively delighted with your recent change, or “improvement,” in attitude. Your lady mother congratulated you for finally agreeing to fulfill your societal role as a subservient wife and mother– an aspect of life of which you had previously been a bit resentful– and your father perpetually reminded you how beneficial this marriage would be to the rest of your bloodline. Even your younger brothers seemed excited for you, constantly coming up with new questions to pester you with regarding life as royalty. The only thing keeping you sane was the knowledge that soon you’d be living far, far away from your conniving parents, free to do whatever you wished. Whichever benefits a royal connection brought them would be nothing compared to your own guaranteed lavish lifestyle. You’d soon have your own castle, your own servants, and even your own soldiers! Oh, and the husband, too. You kept forgetting about that part.

In some ways, the fact that he was a leper was a great relief to you. That meant you’d most likely be spared many of the wifely duties you had so been dreading; mainly, consummating the marriage. At your age, only 14 years old yet, there was nothing that interested you about the male body, giving birth, or raising children. It was not so long ago that you had helped raise your own little brothers, and the idea of going through all of that again made you feel so trapped. Not to mention the fact that giving birth was extremely dangerous. And painful. And frightening. That thought caused a memory you had been repressing for years to resurface from the depths of your mind, like a buoy in the ocean. It was the tortured screams of your mother the night your youngest brother was born. Had you not known better, you might have thought she was being ripped in two, and the labor lasted for so many endless, terrible hours, which felt more like days. You remembered the midwives rushing around, and the maids leaving your mother’s room with armful after armful of blood-soaked sheets and sloshing buckets of burgundy water. As they passed the place where you were hugging your knees in the corridor, a drop fell at your feet and sunk slowly into the stone floor, leaving nothing but a small round stain.

Once it was time to leave your family home for the castle, you said goodbye to the view from your window, which you had become well-accustomed to. It was probably the thing you’d miss most, besides your brothers. You closed your bedroom door for the last time and meandered down the familiar, dimly-lit corridor, taking note of the particular stone which was still adorned by that tiny dot of brownish red. A shiver ran down your spine. You opted out of doing a final sweep to make sure you’d packed all of your belongings, because soon enough, you’d have better things to replace them with, anyway. The knights they’d sent for you had loaded your bags onto their horses about an hour ago and set off for your new home. Now, the only thing left to transport was you.

Another knight was waiting for you outside with a large white horse. He watched as you hugged your mother and father stiffly, pretending not to notice your mother’s tears as she kissed you on the forehead like she used to when you were younger. Before you were a lady. Before you were the queen of Jerusalem. Your father said nothing, but his somber expression and the distant look in his eyes and the loose grip he had on your hand as he kissed the top of it told you everything you needed to know. The knight helped you mount the horse and get comfortable sitting behind him, and you waved goodbye to your family as you were carried away, truly intending it to be for everything you had ever known. But whatever sadness you might have been feeling was overpowered by sheer determination. Now, at 14 years old, your life was finally beginning.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The knight who sat in front of you on the horse did not turn out to be a very good conversationalist. The only responses you could draw out of him were along the lines of “Yes, Your Majesty,” or “No, Your Majesty.” You were hoping for someone a bit more…engaging, perhaps, as you were feeling an odd mixture of excitement and anxiety that grew with each and every gallop towards Jerusalem. And anxiety always made you talkative.

“Is it fun at all, being a knight?” You shouted over the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves, breaking the long silence that you had been enduring since the beginning of the journey.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”

“You know, protecting the kingdom and such. Isn’t it exciting? I find the idea to be absolutely thrilling! Don’t you think so?”

He paused for a moment, and then replied flatly, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

You pursed your lips, waiting in silence for a few moments, expecting him to elaborate, but no such luck. Was it really so hard to share a gory battle tale or two to pass the time? You knew knights were known for having excellent integrity and virtuousness, meaning they would never say something that could potentially scare a lady, but couldn’t he humor you just this once, while you were alone? But maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it, you thought, imagining how burdensome it must be to know the feeling of cutting someone’s head off. So, you graciously changed the subject and mentally patted yourself on the back for being so kind and just. It simply wouldn’t do, as future queen of Jerusalem, to force sensitive information out of this poor, traumatized knight for your own fleeting amusement. Maybe a few months earlier and it would have been acceptable, but alas. You sighed.

“This noble steed of yours is breathtaking. Does he have a name?” you questioned, admiring the animal’s snow-white pelt, entranced by the way its powerful muscles rippled beneath it.

“I do not know, Majesty. This horse belongs to the king. It is the only one His Majesty trusts, so he instructed me to collect you using it.” Another memory flashed through your mind, this time of your first meeting with your future husband. He had been riding this very horse that day, its stunning color matching that of his robes. Your heart fluttered at the idea that he’d cared so deeply for your safety, although it shouldn’t have surprised you. It was not as if he had parents forcing him into this marriage. He was accepting you in holy matrimony for some other reason, a reason entirely of his own. His own choice. A blush crept up the back of your neck, and you were suddenly thankful for the fact that the knight was facing away from you. You cleared your throat nervously.

“Well, what’s it like, working for the king? Is he nice?”

You felt the knight’s huge sigh before you heard it, your arms that were wrapped around his midsection rising and falling in tandem with the breath.

“Yes, Your Majesty, the king is very…nice.”

“Is that all?” you muttered, rolling your eyes at his reservedness. You got the hint. You understood he didn’t want to talk, that much he had made very apparent, but that was just too damn bad. As queen of Jerusalem, you wanted to get to know your subjects, and who better to start with than the one sharing a horse with you?

“Will I have my own chambers, or shall I share with the king?” You asked, holding back a giggle at the expression you were imagining the knight had on his face.

“I am sure you will be provided with your own chambers, Your Majesty, but the choice of whether to use them or not will be entirely yours and your husband’s,” he replied, a hint of dry humor in his voice. You let out a loud laugh, which actually startled him a little, and then followed it up with another.

“I wonder if he snores!” you said, between giggles. The knight smiled, shaking his head. After that, the journey to Jerusalem was easy.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The next time you laid eyes on the king was when you were getting married, standing opposite each other in an architectural marvel of a cathedral, both dressed in extravagant clothing and expensive jewelry. His silver mask had recently been polished, and it shone beautifully in the sun, but still not as beautifully as his blue eyes. They were as you remembered them, only a bit brighter. His gold-trimmed robes were as white as ever, freshly washed and perfumed for the occasion. Even the gloves on his hands looked new and clean. You admired them as the priest rambled on in front of you. If God was listening right now, you thought, he’d surely be bored to tears. There was one part of the day you had enjoyed, though, which was the preparation for the wedding. You had been doted on by countless maids all morning, lining your eyes with black powder and weaving your hair into an intricate, interlocking braid pattern. The gown was altered to fit you perfectly, and the large, bell-like sleeves fell around your arms like wings. You were finally beginning to feel like a real queen.

The ceremony seemed to drag on forever, but you passed the time by maintaining eye contact with King Baldwin. You drowned out the rest of the world and focused only on him. When you smiled, he smiled back. You could only see the corners of his eyes crinkling, but you knew what that meant. You cocked your head to the side, trying to imagine what his smile really looked like. During that evening you spent with him, you hadn’t gotten the chance to see it. Just as soon as he had taken off the mask, he had to put it back on. The consequences of your parents seeing Baldwin’s face would have been disastrous, but thankfully, their loud footsteps and jovial voices had carried quite well down the corridor, warning you of their arrival. Regardless of how short they were, those few seconds you’d spent admiring his bare face were enough to conjure up a half-formed image of what his smile might look like. However, that image disappeared when you saw him cock his head to the side, too, just as you had. You blinked twice.

He blinked twice, too.

Was he copying you on purpose?

You shifted your feet, and he mirrored you, his robes shimmering like the ocean as they fluttered around him. You bit back a giggle. He was. Flames of mischief danced in his eyes, and something else, too, ignited there when you grinned at him.

“…that these rings shall forever remained blessed, O Merciful Lord. Amen,” said the priest, approaching the king with a book, two rings laid on top of it. Suddenly, Baldwin became very serious, plucking one of the rings between his slender, gloved fingers and holding it gently. You stared as it glistened in the sunlight, which was penetrating the stained glass windows and casting colorful shadows around the altar. He slowly stepped towards you, making your heart begin to beat faster. His head stayed bowed as he presented you with his open palm. You held your breath and lifted your left hand, gingerly brushing your fingertips against his palm, now understanding what was about to happen. He effortlessly glided the ring onto your fourth finger, where it rested beautifully. The diamond glittered like water, mesmerizingly. Baldwin wrapped his fingers around your hand, now holding it as gently as he could, and the priest was now presenting you with a ring. You followed Baldwin’s lead, pushing it onto his fourth finger, which was waiting outstretched for you patiently. You stood mere inches apart, fingers of your left hands interwoven as the priest finished the prayers. The ring, as breathtaking as it was, was somehow still only secondary to the cerulean eyes of your now-husband, which were like two rich sapphires lined with delicate blonde hairs.

“…And may God bless, preserve, and keep you, that you may have life and love everlasting. I pronounce that you now be man and wife together, in the Name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

The cathedral filled with polite claps and murmurs of “amen” as Baldwin released your hand and you turned to face the pews. Next to you, much to your surprise, he quickly dropped to his knees, his body angled towards you, clasping your fair hand between his. You gazed down at him through your lashes, suddenly feeling your cheeks burn. Boldly, Baldwin drew one hand up to his masked face, grasping it by the nose and swiftly pulling it to the side so that it was hiding his face from the crowd, but revealing it to you. He lifted your hand to his pink lips and pressed a searing kiss to it, liberally letting the physical contact linger, all the while maintaining eye contact with you from under his furrowed brow. You covered your mouth with your other hand to try and hide the toothy grin spreading across your face. He saw it anyway. The next thing you knew, he was grinning, too. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laughed. He laughed. You realized that you no longer had to imagine what his smile looked like.

After the wedding ceremony, you were promptly bombarded by happy civilians wishing to congratulate you, or simply to catch a glimpse of their new queen, and Baldwin was whisked away by his mother, who seemed to be perpetually by his side. It seemed that she was not quite ready yet to surrender the role of Baldwin’s caretaker to you– but you had no gripes with that. You figured you’d grow into the role of loving, doting wife, as opposed to starting it right away, and unfortunately, the idea of changing his bandages each night before bed still made you shudder. In reality, his mother was not exactly thrilled about the marriage, either. She hadn’t found you or your family quite noble enough for her precious son. However, she was smart enough to see that it was unlikely that anyone else would ever volunteer their daughter to marry a leper, so she begrudgingly allowed the union.

From the crowd, two plainly dressed women had introduced themselves to you as Matilda and Amelia, claiming that they were to be your servants. They would apparently be with you at all times, tending to your every whim and aiding you during your ascent to the throne, as well as bathing you and dressing you. Matilda was an older, more severe woman who had immediately intimidated you; her lips were drawn together thinly and permanently pursed, creating deep wrinkles around her mouth, and the rest of her face was an intricate web of creases and lines. Her graying hair was pulled back tightly, exposing her thinning hairline and sun-spotted forehead. Even her hands looked harsh, the skin rough and dry, cracking in some places, like mud that had been baking under the summer sun for too long. Amelia was quite the opposite; a timid, pretty young thing with wide brown eyes, fair hair, and a delicate frame. She’d barely had the courage to tell you her name, and rushed into the curtsey to avoid having to make eye contact with you for too long. She seemed to be around the same age as you, if not even younger.

After the attendees from the wedding had mostly dispersed, Matilda brought you back inside the castle to finally see your bedchamber, which you were to have all to yourself. She and Amelia led you through winding corridors and beautiful flowering courtyards, pointing out all the most significant landmarks along the way, such as the great hall, the kitchen, the maid’s chambers, the library, the chapel, the towers, the gardens, and the hundreds of guest bedrooms with conjoined washrooms. The last thing she showed you before your own room was the king’s quarters, which were directly across from yours.

“Now, Amelia, go draw us a bath. There’s no need for two of us to be standing around here idly while the Queen inspect her chambers,” she ordered, and Amelia nodded, scurrying away to the washroom silently.

As Matilda threw open the giant oak doors of your room, you couldn’t help but gasp, suddenly rooted to the spot. It was glorious. Taking up the majority of the room was a massive bed with four handsome posts, all carved with intricate floral patterns and stained a deep brown. The mattress was topped with overly-stuffed burgundy throw pillows and a comforter to match. Connecting to the four posts was a frame, from which wine-colored velvet curtains hung to give you some privacy. The same fabric was used to shroud the windows, which were floor-length and leaded. At the foot of the bed lay a pile of bags and wrapped items– all of your belongings from home! On the wall across from them was a large dressing table, covered in jewels and precious metals and bottles of fine-smelling oils. A small, round stool with a cushion on it sat underneath. Your eyes sparkled with excitement, and you couldn’t help but abandon Matilda in the doorway, running and throwing yourself face-first onto the bed, just like you used to at home. You giggled and kicked your feet up into the air, unsurprisingly beginning to sink into the plush mattress. Immediately, you felt your body melt against the malleable, pillowy surface, deciding that you definitely approved of its fine quality. Your bed from back home simply couldn’t compare. However, your glee was short-lived, because it was abruptly interrupted by a stern voice.

“Your Majesty! You must cease this behavior at once and right yourself! That wedding gown is priceless, and you mustn’t risk causing it any damage!” Matilda scolded, pulling you up by the arm and frantically kneeling to check the delicate garment for any possible tears or imperfections. You winced and apologized quietly, suddenly feeling embarrassed at your juvenile behavior. She was right. As a matter of fact, most things in the palace were probably priceless, and it wouldn’t do to act so impulsively, to be so unladylike. Even you, in your youth, knew better than that. You crossed your arms over your chest, beginning to feel rather insecure upon realizing just how much you had to learn about life as royalty.

“Come, child, it is time to undress. You must be bathed and prepared for your wedding night,” Matilda called, holding out a hand, her voice much more soft and gentle this time.

You gulped, not wanting to think about that, preferring to cross that bridge when you got to it. She bustled over to the magnificent dressing table, pulling out the stool for you to sit on. You obliged, seating yourself in front of her and watching in the mirror as her spindly fingers deftly unwound your intricate braids. It was relaxing, the feeling of her experienced hands nimbly dancing around your scalp, so you let the buildup of tension from the day slowly seep out of your muscles, loosening up more and more every second that passed. Soon, she was finished, and helped you to your feet, ordering you to keep your arms out straight as she undressed you. She pulled out pins from here and there, untied laces all around, and in a matter of minutes you were ready for your bath.

The water was warm and steaming as you stepped in, your skin breaking out into goosebumps at the feeling. Rose petals floated across the surface of the water, giving the entire washroom a fresh scent. As you expected, Amelia was waiting for you silently, brush in hand, ready to scrub you vigorously from head to toe. You braced yourself, expecting the rough bristles to be painful, but once she began working attentively, it wasn’t so bad at all. Yes, they were scratchy, but that’s exactly what you needed to get rid of all the dirt and dead skin. She lathered you in delicate smelling soap and added some more fragrant oils to the water, letting you soak until your skin had absorbed all the moisture it possibly could. Not a single inch of you was neglected by the time the water had grown cold, at which point you got out and were dried with a fluffy white towel.

Next, you were ushered back into your chambers and changed into a pretty blue gown made of satin, which apparently “complimented the color of the kings’ eyes perfectly,” according to Matilda. You felt your gut twist at the mention of him, at the prospect of being alone in a room with him and that piercing gaze again. Now that you were man and wife, everything was different. You had a duty to fulfill, and it seemed to be unavoidable, despite how young and vulnerable you were. Despite how averse to it you might be. Your mother had told you all about it, about how it would only last a few minutes if you were lucky, and that you just had to breathe deeply and count the seconds until it was over. How it happened to every woman at some point in her life, and that what follows would be completely and utterly worth every second of endurance. How rewarding it was to raise a child, or two children, or as many as your womb could bear. But no matter how much you tried to reassure yourself, you were still scared. You didn’t want that yet. You were only 14.

But before attending to your marital duties, first, there was dinner. You were seated at the complete opposite end of the table as Baldwin, as far as physically possible away from him, despite the fact that he was the only person there you had ever spoken to. You were too far away to be able to tell if he was even looking at you from under his mask. Next to him was his mother, who proceeded to shoot you sideways glances the entire night. The rest of the table was filled with noble men and women whom you did not recognize, their titles unfamiliar to you and the lands they hailed from even more obscure. You picked at your food and tried to stay as silent as possible to avoid making a mockery of yourself on your first night as Queen of Jerusalem. Sooner than you had hoped, dinner had concluded, and you were taken aside by Matilda, who pulled you into an empty corridor as the guests began filtering out of the castle.

“Child, do you know what is expected of you on your wedding night?” She asked, her voice low so that nobody except the two of you could hear the subject matter at hand. You took a deep breath and straightened you back in an attempt to appear more mature, before replying,

“Yes, I will lie down and be still and hope that I am blessed with a child.”

The woman smiled at you and clasped your shoulder, seemingly approving of your answer.

“Exactly right, my dear. The king will call on you when he is ready, so you may go back to your room and occupy your time with an activity of your choosing until you are collected.”

You nodded solemnly and thanked her before slowly making your way back to your room, trying to take as long as possible in an attempt to actually slow down time. Upon deeper reflection during this walk, you came to the conclusion that it was not being alone with the king that you were afraid of, but rather the act of consummating the marriage, which was, of course, something he had every right to do with you that night. It was the correct course of action. It was what all newlyweds did, no matter how young and afraid they were. Did he know what he was doing, you wondered, or was he just as oblivious as you? You couldn’t imagine the young king being oblivious about much of anything, in all honesty. He was far too intelligent– something you had seen for yourself over that game of chess.

Once you arrived at your room, Amelia was waiting at the door for you, an even more wide-eyed look on her face than usual. Uh oh, you thought to yourself.

“His Majesty the King has requested your presence in his chambers, Your Highness,” she said quietly, bowing her head as she spoke. How did he get here so fast? You thought to yourself, terror rising in your chest. Amelia watched in half fear and half amusement as you frantically wiped your clammy hands on the bodice of your dress and ran your fingers through your hair, which was cascading down your shoulders freely. She was young, too, and unwed, and the idea of a wedding night was something that made her stomach churn as well, so she offered you a sympathetic look and watched as you dragged your feet across the hall, knocking on the imposing oak doors of the king’s bedchambers.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Baldwin had never been so jittery in his life. As he sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for you to arrive, he fidgeted with his gloves, pulling them off by the fingers and then pulling them on again, over and over. All throughout dinner he had been gazing across the table at you, ignoring his mother’s neverending ranting as you stared down at your plate. Though you were only a blue blur with a vaguely maidenlike shape from where he was sitting, he was still completely enchanted, his heart beating in his throat every time you looked up in his general direction. He wondered if you could tell he was looking at you. Since the hour you were wed, he was able to think of nothing but you; your dazzling smile, your gorgeous hair, your playful sense of humor, the way the light in the cathedral illuminated your eyes. As the servants bathed him in strong-smelling medicinal herbs and wrapped the raw areas of skin with fresh bandages, he daydreamed about your voice, your laugh. And now, as he sat on the edge of his bed, awaiting your imminent arrival, he thought of practically everything except you.

He panicked about the state of his body, the pressure of consummating a marriage, the burden of fathering a child at such a young age. He panicked about the weight of ruling an entire kingdom all by himself, no longer able to entrust the brunt of the work to Raymond, and of being a suitable husband. He panicked about how many years he might even have left, if his illness continued to progress. But every worry, every fear, every doubt left his mind as soon as he heard you knock on his door.

He leapt to his feet, hastily pulling his left glove all the way back on and bounding over to the door, throwing it open wide with a grin on his face, to reveal… you, standing there, gaunt and sweating, looking like you had just suffered a bout of cholera. The smile on his face fell a bit, but it couldn’t be wiped completely clean. At least he could finally be with his bride, his love, his queen.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” you murmured, your head bowed, pointing down at your shoes, as well as the freshly polished ones directly across from you.

“Good evening, my Queen,” he breathed, heart beating quickly as you shuffled into his room. He closed the door behind you, letting it shut with a ‘click’ before following you over to the middle of the room, where you hovered like a ghost, still staring at the ground and clasping your hands tightly in front of you. A tense, silent moment passed, and still, you didn't move. Whatever was left of his smile faded from his unmasked face, and the panic from earlier began to return, crashing over him in icy waves. Why wouldn’t you look at him? He cleared his throat, shifting his weight from leg to leg.

“Are you feeling very well tonight, my lady?” He asked tentatively, shuffling a bit closer.

You sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly turned, stiltedly making your way over to the bed.

“Let’s just get this started then, shall we?” You said tersely, laying down on your back on the plush covers and screwing your eyes shut tightly.

“I am ready.”

King Baldwin stared at you blankly, frozen in the middle of the room, and completely panicking. No, no, no, this was all wrong, this was not how he wanted it to go…he absolutely did not want to force you into it, to do anything you didn’t also want…and you clearly didn't want it. You were lying there, as stiff as a board. This was the final straw for him.

He wasn’t ready for it yet either, he decided. He would just have to lie to his mother. When she discovered that the queen was, in fact, not pregnant, he would blame it on his own body, claiming to be infertile. It was probably true, at any rate. He took a deep breath, feeling shame and embarrassment at not being able to consummate his own marriage rise to his cheeks, and spoke three words,

“You may go,”

And those were the last three words he spoke to you for the next three years.

Note: I'll give you a kiss if you can count how many times I reference you being the "Queen of Jerusalem" in this chapter.

#baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv #king baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv one shot #baldwin of jerusalem #highnoonsunlight #baldwin iv fic #slow burn #one sided pining #wedding night

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melithril · 1 month ago

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[Adar] - Sun and Stars

♫ - Look For The Light - Meryl Streep

A/N: This was meant to be light, but it turned into a bunch of feels, no surprise. It's also WAY longer than intended, hah! Enjoy! <3

Times were more vicious than ever these days, and tensions in Middle Earth ran higher than ever before. True harmony was a long passed ideal, and the flames of war had begun to burn again in the New Age.

You had seen your fair share of wrath and ruin, desolation, though never partook; you were far too gentle. Life had never been peaceful for too long before something else took over the darkness that the light had managed to banish. Though, having said that, the last few moons had been the most non-violent times thus far.

It seemed as though things were going well; the Men had begun to rebuild their royal lineage, the Elves began work on more diplomatic relations, the Dwarves had found mithril in vast quantities after a drought of the precious metal. But closest to your heart, was that the Orcs had found refuge and a home, in an old forest just South of Mordor.

A strange thing to say, really. That you were happy that a community of otherwise violent creatures were happy. But that was a narrow perspective of them, as you had lived among them for many years now, and found naught but honest individuals. All they wanted a place to live. They were families, made of the younger and elder folk, they ate and drank together and loved one another as a collective. It was thanks to their leader, their Lord Father, for keeping them safe from judgement or harm. The one they called Adar.

When you had first arrived, naturally you were brought to him, as the orcs had believed you to be a spy of some sorts; unsurprising with your elven ears and fair face. To them, you seemed suspicious enough and you were put before him in his throne room. As you glanced up at him that day, you should have been scared, perhaps even nervous. Yet, something stopped all of that when you looked at him. Clearly, Adar was a tortured soul, though to the extent of which you knew not. Over time, however, that quickly came to light.

Yourself and Adar had a strange relationship, though not in a bad sort of way. It was never officially a courtship, but you grew to care for one another as if you were lovers. When you cried, he was there. When he was hurt, you were there. Whenever the other needed reassurance, comfort, or simply company on a trip or to dinner, the other was there. You were sure some of the orcs had noticed. You spent most days together, in each others company of some sorts, and today was no different.

A bright and early start was on the horizon for you. Not out of choice, but you simply could not sleep again. Dressing yourself, you ventured out into the cold chills of the world and through the camp, heading to Adar's quarters at the base. It was a short walk, and a couple of orcs greeted you kindly as you went. Knocking on the door, you entered without permission. The Lord Father had told you many a time you need not knock, to just come in, but you did so anyway out of respect.

"Ah, good morning, meleth," greeted Adar, a small smile gracing his face. He appeared pleased to see you. You adored when he called you love, as much as you cherished the smiles he sent your way. "I trust you slept well?"

You nodded. "Good morning, Adar. Indeed I did, thank you. Yourself?"

He paused a moment, taking in how you said his name; even after all the years you had known each other, it still gave him a soft feeling. Simply nodding as answer to your question, he gestured for you to have a seat across the table from him.

"Please, sit. I have something I wish to show you."

Your face contorted into confusion, as he disappeared around the corner, returning a moment later. Adar handed you a box, and you took it kindly. You very rarely gave gifts to each other, only on special occasions, and you were certain this was not one. The box was wooden, a dark polish atop; it was long, perhaps the size of your forearm, and quite wide. It was engraved with ornate tree and leaf designs. You smiled.

"This box is incredible, Adar, where did you get it?"

Adar was busy taking in how you basked in the early morning glow, the natural light brightening your face. Paired with your joyous smile, to him you had never looked more radiant. Still, he heard you and answered.

"I had Rakir make it, just for you. Her handiwork is quite remarkable. But, the box was not the gift, silmë," he mused with you. Adar liked to call you starlight, and though he had many names for you, this was his favourite.

Laughing at his poor attempt at humour (which in truth you did find amusing), you undid the ribbon holding the box closed and lifted the lid.

Inside, protected with silk-like material on the bottom of the box, sat a dagger. It was striking silver, clearly made in the style of the elves of Elder Day. Engraved along the handle were wrapped vines, and the guard was a leaf. Along the blades edge was etched with faint stars, and a phrase was written in black speech along the tang.

'ancalima imbi eleni'

Luckily, in your time here, you were fortunate enough to have learnt some of the dialect from Adar, and your eyes welled when you realised what it said.

Brightest of stars.

Adar never forgot the tale you told him of your heritage. You were an elf of the woodland realm, and there was nothing more you loved than the stars. He remembered how you both walked the paths of the forest, the sky above you bathed in the starlight. Which is where he got his names for you from. Here, he had immortalised that in a beautifully crafted work of art.

"Adar.." was all you could mutter out in that moment, taken completely aback by the stunning blade. He watched you tentatively, enjoying your reaction. "This is, this is just beautiful."

"I am glad you like it, it is a gift with practicality, too." Adar moved closer to you, taking the box and setting it onto the table in front of you. Your knees were touching, as he took your hand in his own.

"What do you mean, mimíre?" Your voice was low, concerned almost. Adar looked down as you talked, still not accustom to you calling him beautiful, though he had been hearing it for what felt like centuries from you. You gave his hand a light squeeze, bringing him back to reality.

His mood had turned solemn, you knew something serious was coming.

"The outside world is getting harsher by the day," he began, not bringing his eyes to you, but to your lap as he rubbed his thumb over the top of your hands. "I fear that what grows in the darkness may be too powerful for anyone to fight. I want you to be able to protect yourself should that time ever arise. I know you are not a violent person, but I will teach you how to fight if I must, for your safety."

You sensed an underlying motive to his gift, not suspiciously, but more worriedly. It wasn't just impending threats from Middle Earth.

"Is that all, Adar? Is it just a fear I will not be safe enough?"

He sighed, his head dropping a little. Adar hated how you knew when things weren't right, when he was off, in his mood or actions. Truly, deep down however, he loved it. He felt seen, he felt like someone was truly there for him. Voice barely a whisper, he spoke.

"I fear I will lose my light."

Adar did not mean the light that resided in him. He meant you.

He did not want to lose you. The dagger was a permanent reminder of your worth to him.

Your whole face softened, realization washing over you. You moved to the floor, dropped down on your knees before him and took his face in your hands. He flinched, only a little, the touch on his face foreign from anyone other than himself. Your eyes welled a little at the sight of him. One hand ran through his dark locks, brushing them aside. The other hand cupped his cheek carefully, running your thumb along his scars in comfort. Adar shut his eyes tight, and you answered his fears, tenderly.

"Adar, listen to me. I am not going anywhere, no matter what. There is nothing in this world that could take me away from here. I have found my home. Somewhere I wish to stay for the rest of my days. I have come to realise, slowly over these past years, that I have found a kind of peace alongside you. You have brought me so much, be it happiness, support, or protection. The list goes on. I will be here with you come what may, I can promise you of that, anarnya."

Your sun. You would always call him that, and he reveled in it. To you, he was precious beyond measure, and you tried to help him feel that every day. Especially, in times where his confidence wavered, or his worries arose.

Adar's eyes opened with the name you had spoken, and tears fell freely down his cheeks. Wiping them away, you brought him into a hug. Adar's slender arms wrapped around your frame, pulling you back up to the seat with him, and his face buried itself into your shoulder. Moments of vulnerability were not as scarce as they used to be these days, however they were also not this open. Every part of you was focused on the uruk, ensuring he knew he was safe and cared for.

Tears soon became a faint cry, and your heart shattered. You knew yourself, along with his children, meant more to him than life. He had built up this family from the ground, and the fears of having it tainted or ruined often got too much for him to handle. So, you let him unload his pain onto you. You didn't mind, knowing it kept him from the darkness. Adar always called you his starlight, you vowed to be just that.

Pulling his head up, Adar's eyes pierced into yours; they were teary, and sparkled a lot more than normal in the light of the day. He leaned up, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, before looking back at you as you sat before him.

"I have something I have been meaning to say, and I think now may be the best time for it." You could tell he was trying to regain himself, trying to find some sort of composure. You simply nodded, allowing him time to do so.

"I- The last-," Adar struggled to put his sentence together, which was uncharacteristic of him. Emotionally, he seemed distant. You thought perhaps the morning's outburst of feelings had drained him somewhat, which you understood all too well. You grabbed his hand again, silently showing that you were here for him.

Taking a deep breath, Adar lifted his head once more. You waited for him to speak, but instead, he brought your face to his and brushed his lips against your own. You didn't recoil, or hesitate, and so he closed the gap. There was no rush about it, it was slow and thoughtful, and as you kissed him back, Adar tried to tell you everything he wanted to say aloud in this one kiss. All the thoughts, the feelings, the fears he had. You felt everything for him.

The uruk was the first to break the kiss, pulling back but remaining close. Your breathing was laboured, in a good way. Your eyes reopened, and met Adar's blue ones with a new found layer of love. Before, it felt slightly more platonic, but almost as though something unspoken was lingering behind it. Now, what was unspoken had made its way to the forefront of your relationship with him.

You both knew now, it truly was love.

"Adar," you murmured, pulling his forehead to rest on yours. "Is that what you wanted to say?"

He smiled, a soft, small smile but it was there. "It was. I have loved you for some time now, my light, I just did not have the words for it. I was scared that you would reject me."

"Oh, I could never. You are my sun, my rock, and I would move mountains for you. Never underestimate the love I have in my heart for you. I have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and to me you are the one I cherish most."

Adar stared at you in wonder. You were far better than he was, in every way. But, he was thankful you loved him as he did you.

"And," you added. "I do not need fancy daggers to remind me of the love you give. Every day, I feel special and cared for, and I have never been safer with anyone. I love you, heart and soul, and I am thankful every day I get to exist among you and your children."

He laughed, gracefully and low, and looked lovingly at your soft face. Whispering to you, he wove his hand into your hair and placed another small kiss on your lips.

"To the end of days, I will love you."

"As will I love you, for as long as the sun rises and the stars live in the sky."

Thanks for reading! <3

#rings of power #adar #rings of power x reader #rings of power imagine #adar imagine #adar x reader #adar one shot #x reader #imagine #one shot

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 1 year ago

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OMG I’m so excited for this!!! Can I request Vil with the prompt rainy nights?? Can it be fluffy and romantic? Anyway I hope you have a wonderful day!! :)

Rainy Nights; Vil Schoenheit

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, established romantic relationship

Content Warning; Reader cries because of a movie, death (movie)

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; I had a vision; watching old movies with Vil as the rain came down. I had a lot of fun writing this, and this is also my first solo Vil piece, so I hope I did him justice here.

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You were rummaging around the TV console, going through the numerous DVDs and VHS tapes that were just sitting around and collecting dust. Tonight was your night for movie night, as yesterday was Vil’s, so you were weighing your options. Sure, there were streaming services, but there’s just something that hits differently with a physical copy, flaws and all. Plus it’s not like you could go out since it was raining like no tomorrow outside. So, movie night.

“Having any luck,” Vil gently called from the washroom, still doing his nightly routine.

Your eyes still scoured the various cases, trying to find the perfect one. “Not yet. Just give me a minute, m’kay?”

Vil gave you a hum as an answer, leaving you be.

Horror movie? No, he wouldn’t like that. Mystery? Too predictable… And then you found what looked like the most faded cases, colour worn away from age and a hand going back time and time again. That one.

Pulling it out, you dusted off the case, inspecting the title. Of the smudged-out words, you could make out The, some kind of smudged-out word, Blossom. It looked like a black-and-white movie, and on the front were the protagonists with their backs together, flower petals surrounding them, and a dagger above them. This, this is perfect.

Vil came out of the washroom, wearing his matching royal purple pyjamas and house robe, and glowing from the various skin products that he used. He looked curiously over your shoulder. “Hmm, The Bitter Blossom,” he mused, turning his gaze to you. “Is that your pick, Schatz?” His tone was light, a sign that he approved, and was mildly surprised at your pick.

“Mhm,” you hummed, placing the VHS tape into the VCR player. Whoever had played it last had saved you the trouble of rewinding it. “Have you watched it before?”

“Surprisingly, no. Copies of it are extremely hard to come by.” He got the sofa ready, adjusting the pillows, grabbing one of the many quilts, and a box of tissues, just in case. He noticed the look you were giving him, “I haven’t watched it, but I have heard about how it ends.”

You raised a brow, but shrugged. You pressed play and scrambled over to your spot next to Vil, getting comfy and pulling that handy quilt over the both of you — the rain had made it a little bit chilly.

The Bitter Blossom started playing. Not only was it in black-and-white, but it was also a silent film. The protagonists were two lovers who met by chance, their relationship going from cold strangers to a budding romance.

But why had Vil grabbed the tissues? The movie was almost over, it couldn’t possibly—

But then the antagonist, a jealous ex of one of the main protagonists, stabbed the love interest in the back with a dagger. The movie ended with the protagonist hugging their love interest, flower blossoms falling down around them.

“Do not let the bitter blossom of hatred and vengeance bloom in your heart or mind, my love. Do not let it ruin the happiness which we fleetingly had.” The words flashed on the screen before the movie ended with the screen fading into black.

That, that was why Vil had grabbed the tissues. Wait, were you crying? That would explain why Vil was gently dabbing away the stray tears as they rolled down your face.

“A lovely film, love,” he whispered, “I should have warned you about the ending—”

You stopped him by grabbing softly at his hand, bringing it up to cup your face. “No, it’s alright. It was a beautiful movie,” you hiccuped, leaning into his touch.

Vil caressed calming strokes on your cheek, the slow movements helping you focus on him. He placed a kiss on your forehead, a gentle hum escaping as the kiss lingered. “Oh potato,” your old nickname from when the two of you were still just only acquaintances, “what am I going to do with you?”

You grabbed a tissue and loudly blew your nose, “Cuddles?”

Vil sighed softly, but put his arm around you, resting his head against yours and placing a kiss to your temple. “Alright,” he hummed and continued humming a gentle tune until you were falling asleep. While he would prefer sleeping in bed, he supposed he could stand to cuddle with you on the sofa as the rain eased up outside.

~~~~~~~

Schatz; German for treasure, a common term of endearment

Tags; @azulashengrottospiano [I've seen the Vil brain rot and gushing], @eynnwwyjth, @xxoomiii

#dove does events #follower event #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit x gn reader #also i decided to go with a VHS tape since i wanted them to watch an old OLD movie; plus i miss my VCR player #soft vil content to heal the soul #he also cried a bit but was very subtle in wiping away the lone tear #hopefully i wrote vil with some justice as I'm still trying to characterize him right #potato; said with love #sofia!#i also think this is the longest one as of yet ; just checked and yup! it is #that might change though as i write the others #thought about having reader call vil their 'schnucki' [sweetie-pie] but decided against it #but it does live rent free in my head #i wonder how many people read through all of my tags; cuz i do hide some gems in there as little easter eggs of sorts

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thatsmybook · 8 months ago

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A few times, I've heard Lisa and Rojda talk about how Young Royals is about the class system and a queer Prince, but also, it's relatable because not only do the cast look like teenagers, they act like teenagers in today's world. So it's also a show about teenagers. With that in mind, I'd like to talk about Simon Eriksson, working class, immigrant, and mixed race student at Hillerska, falling in love with the Prince.

Simon, in S1, deliberately kept any problems about Sara and his life at Hillerska hidden from his mum because he did not want to burden her. He lied to reassure her when she'd get worried about Sara and equally made decisions to help Sara's wellbeing at school. It seemed that he was taking care of his mum and sister when his dad left and after the abusive relationship that seemed to have really affected the whole family. This is why he doesn't share anything bad that he's going through with his mum. He's trying to protect her. He always has.

As to the comments he is getting. I think he is reading them because often they concern his family and are from the people in their town. That, along with the phone calls at night and hate-mail mentioned by Linda at the court hearing in S3 ep1, this means that he's on hyper-vigilance about threats to him and his family. So, my theory is that he is monitoring his comments and engaging to try to defuse things. But just like in all 3 seasons, his actions often lead to more problems.

This is a 16 year old kid, the youngest in his family, doing things an adult should be doing. This is very relatable for many working-class single parent families. Something to add about first-generation kids of immigrant families, having an extra layer of working to help the family navigate the country and society they're in.

Also, as to the comments, there have been many real life incidents, unfortunately , of teenagers getting hate comments online from their peers and bullied to the point of taking their own lives. Simply telling them not to read the comments may not have worked for them. (Yet so many reactors to this season think it's that simple).

Simon is getting a volumous amount of hate comments, which started right after the sex video was released in S1. At that point, the comments were in the print media.

He needs actual support, less obliviousness from the adults in his life about what is happening to him (that includes the Royal Court), and understanding about the actual effect of comments on his mental health from everyone around him. He is a victim of actual hate, and when I hear about any child going through that kind of regular abuse, my heart goes out to them.

Seeing how supportive Simon's dad could be in this 3rd season in his conversations with Sara, we can see how much Simon actually misses his dad. Because had he had a relationship with him, without the baggage of Sara's need for distance, he would have probably noticed that Simme needed help and been quite good at it, when he could manage it.

However, we as the audience seem to be blinded by Wille's more important problems, partly because the show is largely from his POV, but also because his pressures seem bigger. As a result, I've seen fans come down on Simon for not putting his life's woes in perspective to support Wille more. We start to see big cracks in their relationship and start to feel that they just won't work out.

But, they're also just kids in their first relationship. Miscommunication is completely normal at that age. They've only just been spending actual time with each other this season and getting to know each other. Yet they are dealing with adult problems, and so many of us fans are shouting at the screen - talk to each other! I feel like, if I were one of them, there is so much weight on me that I'd be too scared to open the floodgates and actually tell my boyfriend what's happening because I don't want to scare him. And no wonder they spend most of their time making out. It's the easiest part of their relationship and what gives them actual joy at the moment.

So I give grace to these characters and kudos to the creators of the show, for showing ACTUAL teenagers dealing with real life problems, amplified for drama because of the dichotomy of being a Prince and a commoner. But, I don't judge ANY of the characters when I apply the same analysis I've given here to Simon to all the other four characters. What this show requires of us adults is empathy for their plight and maybe a closer look at the teenagers in our lives. What it does for the teen audience is show them that they're not alone when they mess up or are dealing with life pressures. We as a society won't judge them. We will work to understand them and share their burdens.

#young royals #yr s3 spoilers #simon eriksson #cyberbullying

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foreverisntenough · 3 months ago

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i would love a cute blurb about teddy’s first day at nursery school 🥹🥹🤍🤍

Hi <3 I know you asked this ages ago but I was on holiday and then took a minute to write but Ta Da! for youuuu! I loved this idea so tysm for messaging. I hope you like it!

--------- My tiny one shot below for you 🤍

'Brave for Dada' - 1.5k words |

↳ It was an emotional first day of nursery school for Trent and your daughter, Teddy.

Other ForeverIsntEnough One Shots

---------

“Mama no.” Teddy sobbed as you got her dressed for her first day of nursery school. To say that she was not excited would be an understatement. “Don’t wanna go any more, tay? No tanks, mama. Wanna be with you.” She hiccuped while you slicked her hair back with a bristle brush tight into a low bun. Despite her pleas, you got her in some white Dior trousers, a navy Dior cable knit jumper, white and navy Golden Goose velcro trainers, a Stoney Clover backpack, one of many you had but this color matched her look for the day with her ‘TAA’ initials on it. As a special little surprise you had gotten her royal blue Burberry keychain that was bear wrapped in a blanket. She, as expected, thought it was adorable. It made her smile momentarily through her tears as you helped her clip it on the bag.

“Daddy, want to come see our little Teddy bear all ready for school?” You cooed for Trent who was currently in your room to come to hers to see her all dressed ready to go. Tears still rolling. She stood there sniffling but she looked adorable.

“Look at my gorgeous big girl! You look so beautiful, baby. I love your outfit! Did you help mummy pick it out?” He asked her. Teddy nodded. She was being particularly quiet today given her nerves.

“Are you going to be a big girl and go to school, baby bear?” Trent cooed once you got her downstairs. Teddy clung to him in the foyer at your front door. “You’re my brave girl, yeah? I know you’ll have the most fun and you have to promise the second I come home from training you have to tell me all the fun things you did, okays?” He squatted down to her level. Her hands wrapped around his neck as his big hand rubbed up and down her back consoling her.

“Tay, dada. Can you come with mes?” She sniffled through her words. The tears that had been falling all morning continued. He wiped a few escapees off her cheeks and kissed her frowny pout.

“Oh baby, I wish I could. Daddy’s got training. It's just like school but for footie. Did you know that?” He asked her and she shook her head no. “Yeah, Ted. I get nervous sometimes too but I go and I get to meet new friends and learn all sorts of new things, I get snacks, and the best part is that when I’m done having fun there I get to come be with you and mummy right after! But you know why your school is even better?” Teddy gave him a still hesitant shake of the head ‘no’ but this time not as stern, she wasn’t completely rejecting his persuasion. “I don’t get to look as pretty as my baby bear does. You look like the most beautiful girl in the whole world. Prettiest girl in the whole school and the bravest too. So promise me you’ll at least try and be brave for dada, okay?." Teddy's bottom lip quivered. "If you get nervous that's okay too, sweetheart but know daddy does sometimes too. You can do it. Mummy and I believe in you so much and you should too. Pinky promise you’ll try?” He sympathetically smiled at her sticking his much larger hand out. She sheepishly raised her hand and interlocked her tiny pinky around his promising. He kissed her little pout. “I almost forget, Ted!” Trent yelped. He hadn't; he just wanted one last thing to hopefully make her smile before he had to get out the door. “I know you’re a tiny nervous, baby and you know how you’re our little bear right? Well, daddy got you a little something so in case you start to miss mummy and daddy when you’re at school to make you smile. Can I put it on you?” He gently spoke to her. You sat yourself on the hardwood floor next to them. She nodded through tears. He clasped a small gold charm bracelet with three enamel teddy bears on it around her tiny wrist. “How many bears are there? Can you count?” Trent smiled.

“One, twos, and erm, three, dada.” She smiled identically mirroring his. It was stupidly ornate to send a child with jewelry of that caliber to school but that was Trent’s way.

“Good girl! So it’s just like us three, okay? You will have mummy and I with you the whole time. I’m so proud of you. I love you, baby.” He kissed her forehead and stood up.

“Mama look! Bringing dada and mama bears to school with mes!” Teddy excitedly told you, shoving her bracelet clad wrist in your face. Naively unaware she was sporting a comfortable three thousand pound piece of jewelry to nursery school.

“Wow, that’s so special! Daddy must love you a whole lot.” You smiled as you kissed over the bracelet three times. “And mummy does too.” You kissed her nose pulling her down into a hug.

“Mama!” Teddy sobbed, breaking free from the school teacher who was holding her hand on the pavement. She sprinted to you. You crouched down and wrapped her in the tightest embrace feeling like you wanted to cry just like she was.

“Hi my big girl! I missed you so much.” You cooed, kissing her hair as she clung to you crying more. You stood up keeping Teddy in your arms. You smiled at the teacher who handed her little backpack over to you.

“She’s tired but we had a good day. Lots to show your mummy, huh?” The kind woman gently asked Teddy, rubbing her arm tenderly. She had packed away plenty of drawing’s and little things Teddy had done during the day into her bag for you.

“Want mama.” Teddy continued to wail. It was breaking your heart to see her so upset but you kind of anticipated this. It wasn't exactly a secret that she was fairly attached to you.

“I’m right here. Mummy’s got you. I think you're just tired, huh? Almost time for our nap, yeah?” You cooed attempting to soothe her but very aware that it was about 15 minutes till when she typically went down for a nap which was likely fueling this emotional reunion. “I bet you had so much fun though so you have to tell me all about it on the way home.” You kissed her forehead.

“Nooo mummy.” She sniffled, wrapping her arms even tighter around your neck.

“Okay, okay. How about we call daddy in the car. Will you tell him?” You asked her and she hiccuped in a breath almost forgetting what she was sad about by the idea of getting to talk to Trent. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the teacher who nodded unphased by probably the umpteenth toddler she had handed over crying this afternoon after the first day of nursery school came to a close. Teddy began to calm a little bit. “Yeah? I know he can’t wait to hear about your first day. Daddy and I are so proud of you. Let's go, my Teddy girl.” You bounced her on your hip walking back to your car, kissing her temple. To your dismay when you called Trent, he didn’t answer. You roughly knew his schedule so you decided that even though the sniffly little girl in your backseat whose eyes were fighting to stay open you’d take a different route home. “Come on.” You grunted picking a sleepy Teddy up out of her carseat. “Do you see where we are?” You smiled putting Teddy down onto the ground before you�� extended your hand for her to hold as she inspected her surroundings. You watched her get more and more excited as you walked through the car park and in through the big doors, down the corridor and back outside into the bright sun on the other side of the building.

“My dada!” Teddy squealed, pointing her arm through the fence out to the pitch at AXA where Trent had already spotted her and had begun to run over to you.

“Is that my brave baby bear?” Trent cooed, immediately scooping Teddy up and lifting her up over the fence. She started to cry clinging to him like she did to you before. “Didn’t know that my beautiful girls were coming here.” Trent smiled, kissing Teddy’s forehead, running his hand over her hair before he leaned over the fence to kiss you.

“We needed to see daddy right after school, huh? Just couldn’t wait.” You laughed a little seeing Teddy smush herself against him. You cupped Trent’s slightly sweaty cheek stoking your thumb over his glowing skin.

“I couldn’t wait to see my baby bear either. Want to come play some some footie with me?” Trent kissed the inside of your wrist as he asked Teddy. His training was done. It was a rehabilitation day for him anyway but instead of calling it he’d spend the next hour chasing after Teddy as you sat on the side of the pitch. You were relieved to see Teddy giggling away again as opposed to crying but you sighed remembering you had to do it all again tomorrow.

⇨ Read other ForeverIsntEnough work here!

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n

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arabellasleopardcoat · 9 months ago

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Pyrite - Chapter 2: Gold shrouds

Pt 1 here!

Chapter summary: Daemon gets a letter and Aemma drinks her tea. Both events are not as unrelated as they should be.

Warnings: Swearing. Abortion. Death (Of an irrelevant character, just to complicate things)

A/N: Yes, I know what I’m implying between Daemon and Viserys. Sue me. Also, Aemma just knows things. Royal wombs anyone?

If there was one thing Daemon despised, it was answering letters. It was not that he hated to write, or that he disliked corresponding with others. As a child, he had often hoped a more effective means of communication was invented for the realm. He hated waiting for news. Ravens took ages to cross the country and were often unreliable. They could be tampered with, and there was no reliable way of actually knowing who was sending the message. It was an insecure means of communication.

Growing up, he had realized his feelings were paranoia and impatience. But as he was faced with an ever-growing pile of letters, Daemon once again remembered his longing for a more effective way of doing things. Many of the requests he was answering were delayed, and whatever he could do about it would probably be an even more delayed response.

It would be even worse when he was Hand. Even more letters and petitions to oversee, and that was not considering the ones directed to the King that he would answer in his stead. Already, he had noticed Viserys slipping a few of his letters in Daemon’s pile. It was bound to be good practice.

Daemon skimmed the news from his informants. His grandmother seemed to be doing better, which gladdened him. The death of his aunt and uncle had hit her hard. It was good to hear she was regaining her strength, although Daemon would much prefer it if she was not dining with Corlys Velaryon or the Hightower cunt.

His father did not look at the meetings with good eyes. Nor did the King. The three of them had started corresponding a while back, trying to protect Viserys’ interests. As always, the man himself remained oblivious.

It was how it was meant to be, Daemon mused. Viserys could be the crown, but Daemon would always be the sword. His sword. To aim at his enemies, known or not.

His grandfather couldn't be too obvious and show his favor directly, after all, he was to call a council to settle the matter of the succession. But his actions showed who he favored.

Viserys remained oblivious. Or so he liked to pretend. Most of the time, he was too busy being in love with Aemma.

This particular season was proving to be intolerable. Finally, after years of trying, Aemma was pregnant again. Both of them were overjoyed at the thought of getting to be parents, yet they were cautious of announcing it.

Aemma had trouble making her womb quicken, and when it had before, she had lost the babes before they could come to term. She had stated it was not time to celebrate yet, not knowing if this would be the time the babe survived. Viserys, though, was behaving as if the child were already born.

He stares at the pile of correspondence left, and stops right in his tracks. In the middle of it, there is an unmarked envelope. It's not sealed right. The wax looks like the one from a cheap candle, like the ones used to light up lanterns. Not at all like the ones used to sealing letters. Has anyone been tampering with his correspondence?

Daemon reaches for the envelope. It feels rough in his hands, made of the cheapest paper. No noble would be caught dead sending their letters like that, not even if they were trying to be not conspicuous by not putting their seal on it.

He starts breaking the seal apart, when there is a sudden scream of his name. Aemma. Are they being attacked? Is this a product of Corlys Velaryon scheming?

The unmarked letter falls to the floor in his haste to leave the room, forgotten. Daemon curses Viserys for having picked today out of all days to go pick a dragon's egg for the babe. He has left them undefended. There is only Daemon and a couple of guards preventing Dragonstone from being taken.

“Daemon!” Aemma repeated. She was not one to call for him, much less so panicked. Whatever was happening, it was bad. Maybe they had her already, and were threatening her at sword point. “Cousin, please!”

Daemon unsheathed his sword. He worried if the babe would survive. The Maester had told them Aemma was not to suffer through any heightened emotions, and should remain calm and abed. Being held hostage was not exactly in his instructions.

“Hold on, Aemma!” He screamed. He was a whole floor away from her. Daemon had to move faster, but the crowd of floundering servants were in his way. Aemma would despair if the babe was lost. Viserys had told him once that he doubted she would survive another loss. She wanted to be a mother so badly.

Daemon had to hurry there, and try his best to get her out, even if he did not get the feeling himself. Children were such irritating creatures. They ruined everything. They were sticky, they bawled, they ruined women's bodies. He didn't see the appeal. But Aemma and Viserys were desperate to have one.

Viserys didn’t have Aemma's yearning for parenthood. Instead, he had another motivation in mind. He, too, was thinking of what would happen were he to take the throne.

What a hypocrite, truly. He pretended not to care about getting the Iron Throne, but he thought about it often enough to pressure Aemma about heirs. And now, Daemon could tell Viserys was scared shitless of being passed over in favor of Rhaenys, despite claiming to never wanting the throne.

That was why he was so desperate to get a son. If Aemma carried one, it meant that he was preferable to Rhaenys. There would be no unpleasant floundering about what to do with a Queen if one had an indisputable line of Kings that was assured even for the next generation.

The babe had to live. Not only for Aemma, but for Viserys’ throne as well.

“Daemon!” Aemma screamed again. Now that he was closer to her quarters, he noticed that the guards remained on their posts. Only her maids stood near, worriedly hoovering around her door.

“I am coming!” It was all so very odd. He grabbed one of the maids and shook her. “What in the Seven Hells is going on?”

The woman started blabbering something, but she was too terrified of him to be of any use. Aemma's desperate howls could be heard from inside the room, making every one of Daemon's hairs stand up on end.

Daemon went for a guard next. He pressed his sword to the man's chin, forcing him to look Daemon in the eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing here, you piece of shit? Your Princess is being attacked.”

“The Princess is not being attacked.” Someone cut in. Daemon turned, enraged. In the middle of the corridor stood the Maester. He did not look winded in the very least. If he had hurried here, it did not show. “The serving girls says she is in pain.”

In pain. In pain, as if losing the babe. Was everyone in this castle a cunt? Daemon fought the urge to scream and grabbed the Maester by the lapels of his robe. He was so enraged that the man was dangling from his grip.

The Maester's eyes widened in fear. He started muttering something. Daemon did not care.

“You are going in. Now. Or you will lose your hands. We will see how much you like being a Maester after that.”

“No!” Aemma screamed, from inside her rooms. “No Maesters! Daemon, please. Something is very wrong.”

“She doesn't want anyone but you or Prince Viserys, my Prince.” One of the more braver maids spoke. “We tried.”

“Alright. Alright.” Daemon muttered, but he was unsure of who he was trying to reassure. The maid or himself? He was not good with crying women. The last time he had seen one was when he had taken the maidenhead of a serving girl, after his first time in a whorehouse. Apparently, you weren't supposed to treat virgins as roughly as you treated whores. Well, how was he supposed to know?

Daemon stamped down his leftover guilt at the memory of feeling even more aroused at seeing the serving girl crying out in pain, and tried to focus. He had no medical knowledge, either. How was he supposed to help Aemma?

“Daemon, by the Gods, hurry the fuck up!” She screamed again. Daemon had never moved faster in his life. A cross Aemma was a fearsome Aemma.

He opened the door and found Aemma gripping one of the posts of her bed. She was standing, only in her nightgown, and shaking from the pain. Daemon approached her gently, and grabbed her hand. Her skin was cold and clammy.

There was a teapot on her bedside table. Daemon poured her another teacup and held it to her lips, but she refused.

“I am losing my babe.” Aemma whispered, eyes filling with tears. “I can feel it.”

“You are not.” Daemon tried his best to sound and look confident. “There is no blood. There is a Maester right outside, maybe we can…”

“I feel the cramps, Daemon.” She deadpanned, before screaming again. Daemon flinched, but kept gripping her hands. “Blood will come. I have been through this.”

It was a heartbreaking thing to hear. Not only for Aemma, but for their chances of getting the Iron Throne. Aemma bawled. Daemon could feel his own eyes filling with tears. What was wrong with him? He had lost plenty of nephews before.

But he had never watched Aemma go through it before, had he? The treacherous voice in his head said. He had never seen her go through this pain, and neither had Viserys.

“What do you need?” Daemon asked, softly. “What can I do?”

“I just…” Aemma's knees buckled. He took on more of her weight. “I didn't want to be alone.”

“You won't be.” Daemon promised, quietly. Where was Viserys when they needed him? Now, the selection of the dragon's egg seemed pointless. There was going to be no babe.

No babe. Poor Aemma. She clung to him, and wept. It seemed like hours until Viserys arrived and took her from his arms. His expression was struck, but not with sorrow. Disappointment. Viserys had lost too many babes already to be saddened by that. The disappointment in his eyes was from something different. There was a certain anger in his expression when he looked towards Aemma that clued Daemon in.

She had failed him. If Aemma had managed to keep the babe a few months longer, if she had birthed him a son….

Daemon left the room before he said anything stupid to his brother. While Daemon was not the most compassionate person ever, Viserys claimed to love Aemma. He should be worried after her health, or feeling her pain at having her dream of becoming a mother shattered. Not worried about the Iron Throne.

If she was the woman Daemon loved, he would never blame her. Especially not during such a sensible time as this. They were Targaryens. Family came before the Iron Throne.

Besides, did no babe really mean no Iron Throne? Rhaenys had been passed over once. The reasoning still stood. And if that was not enough, Viserys was their father's heir. That had to count for something. It meant he would inherit the throne regardless if their father managed to sit on it for only a second before keeling over.

Daemon thought worrying was unnecessary. They had their grandfather's support. The Council had decided on their favor once already. Nothing had changed. Aemma had not had a babe then either.

But taking precautions was never wrong. Daemon had already started gathering a small force of loyal men. If it needed to be done, he would do it for the happy couple. Viserys, the fool, could never. Aemma was too good of a woman to even think of it. She would make a good Queen. But she would not be Viserys's Tyanna. Daemon would be.

He went back to his chambers. The pile of correspondence remained as it was when he rushed out, except for the unmarked letter. Someone picked it up and placed it back on the pile.

Daemon opens the letter. The handwriting is big and round, clearly feminine. It's also terrible. Whoever wrote it never had the lessons on penmanship most nobles had.

“To whom it may concern,

Do not let Princess Aemma alone. Someone is planning to hurt her babe. Please believe me.”

The note says nothing more. Daemon curses.

“A name could have been useful.” He says, to the envelope. It seems too convenient that someone is trying to help them. But somehow, he knows it's an authentic warning. No one had known of Aemma's pregnancy outside Dragonstone. It had been too soon to announce it.

And the timing of this loss had been rather convenient, hadn't it? Just on the day when his father is at the capital, on the precise morning Viserys was out of the castle, taking most guards with him. The Maester had reacted rather slowly, same as the serving girls. Could it be? Not a genuine loss, but a provoked one?

It was easy to poison someone. Even easier to switch a pregnant woman's tea with moontea. There had been a tea set in the room. He remembered that.

Daemon clutched the note and ran towards Aemma's rooms. He burst inside, ignoring the warnings from the guards.

“Daemon! Have some respect, Aemma is….” Viserys screamed at him, leaping to his feet. He was still dressed in his riding clothes.

The room was an even bigger mess than when he had left it. There were trails of blood in the plush myrish rug his father had gifted Aemma after the wedding. The woman herself was laying on the bed, undressed and in absolute despair. A serving girl was valiantly attempting to clean her up, and receiving quite a few slaps in return.

There was another serving girl, taking the remains of Aemma's breakfast. She kept her eyes lowered, never once glancing in Daemon's way, and yet…

Her hands were trembling. She scooped up the teapot.

“Daemon! Are you even listening? You can't be here, my wife is…” Viserys grabbed him by the shoulders, face twisted into an expression of pure rage. Daemon could tell that he was close to punching him.

He ignored Viserys, eyes fixated on the girl. She was no older than four and ten years of age, but Daemon doubted that her nervousness had anything to do with that.

“Girl! Wait!” He commanded, but the serving girl was slipping past the open door and right by him. Daemon tried to grab her shoulder or her wrist, but she was already running away.

“Guards! Hold her!” He screamed, and tried to run after her. Viserys got in his path. He had no time for explaining anything, no time at all. Daemon shoved the note in his face. “Viserys, let me go!”

“Not until you tell me what is going on!” His brother's hands closed around his shoulders, effectively restricting his movement. Daemon looked at Viserys’ eyes. He was sure his expression mimicked his, frantic and terrified.

“Someone informed me of a threat to Aemma's babe.”

“And you think… That woman….”

A sudden scream and a thud were heard. The woman? Daemon went to look outside the chamber, but Viserys was blocking the exit. He sighed. No point in sugarcoating it now, even if he wanted to avoid upsetting Aemma even further.

“Poison.” Daemon confirmed. Viserys took a step back. The another. He took the letter from Daemon, his knees buckling.

“How?” Viserys looked lost. Daemon felt no better. He didn't have an answer, beyond the serving girl and the note he had received. Before he could state such, one of the guards he had sent in pursuit of the woman stepped inside.

“My Prince.” There was a grim look on his face, as if getting ready to be punished. Daemon knew immediately it wasn't good news. “The girl, she…”

“She fell down the stairs while she ran. She broke her neck.” Another guard said, plainly. “We searched her clothes. Here.” The guard handed him a small glass vial, and a letter, hastily written. It was addressed to the Red Keep.

Ser:

It's done.

There was no signature, no titles being invoked, nothing that could signal who had given the order to poison Aemma.

“What do you make of this?” He asked Viserys. His brother scowled.

“Nothing. Nothing.”

“Give me that.” Aemma croaked, from her place in the bed. Daemon had not realized she had been listening in.

Viserys and Daemon exchanged a glance. Was it truly prudent? Aemma was grieving. But she was also insightful, more than both of them. Daemon had a head for military strategy, not for conspiracy.

Viserys nodded. Daemon handed her the two letters.

“We need to find this woman.” She said, after a while.

“My love, she is dead.” Viserys answered her, looking concerned. Had she missed the guards informing them? Was she delirious?

“Not her. The one who warned us.” Aemma's tone suggested exactly what she thought about their intelligence. That… Did make way more sense. Daemon felt his face heating up. She was right, they were fools.

“How do you know it is a woman?” Viserys frowned in confusion.

“The handwriting. Feminine. She must be a servant, or a very uneducated noble, but then… Well. How many of them are in the Red Keep? Servant is more likely.”

“What do we do, then?” Daemon asked, if only to hear the confirmation.

“We go there. And find her.”

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bitumz · 5 months ago

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Title: A withered Rose still has its thorns

Pairing: Cooper Howard / Lucy MacLean

Word count: 4k+

Rated: T [angst, depictions of past violence, hurt/comfort, mentions of death and loss, happy ending]

A/N: this was written for the incredible @valeriarts for this beautiful fanart they made me, and was heavily inspired by this insane Beauty and the Beast Ghoulcy Fanart they entered into the Ghoulcy Atomic Blast Event! As such, this responding work is absolutely riddled with BatB references, but is lovingly set in the Fallout canon world because I am an absolute goon for the old music and wasteland setting. A tale as old as time... Ao3 link

~~~~~

One year has passed since Lucy pulled the trigger on her own decayed mother, withered away and rotted from the inside out by the inevitable cruelty of the wasteland. A necessary evil she still tries to console herself with on such a gruesome anniversary, though these days the grizzly voice chiding her in her mind doesn’t sound like her own anymore. And Lucy thinks she's starting to realize exactly how decay feels.

One year of failed leads. Shattered expectations. The growing pains of being remade into a woman more familiar than she should be, even well beyond the reflection of a mirror.

The old shopping center she and Cooper find themselves in that evening is almost painfully similar to the Super Duper Mart, old clothing and clocks, and half burnt candles and varying arrays of other decorative knick-knacks scattered about like hastily flung debris across the rotting floors. But unlike the mart, high walls divided large sections of the space, reminding her even harsher of the vault rooms back home, centered just so by a long, splaying hallway that seemed to go on for miles into the shadowed corridor. An old mall Cooper had called it, but to Lucy that meant nothing.

She'd done what she could to keep her distance from him that day, him never being one to appreciate her foul moods, and instead of calling out the blood curdling hypocrisy of that whole idea (and the inevitable fight that would follow), she bit her tongue and did her best to sulk alone, in only the company of a few blessedly silent clothing displays and dusty bedroom furniture.

One of the former caught Lucy’s attention more than the others, a headless mannequin donned in a flowing silk gown, royal blue cut through the middle with a bright yellow sash that drew in the curves of the waist and cascaded floor length at the rear with the rest of the flowing hemline to trail like a river of molten gold across the moldy tile.

Her mother had always disliked her in dresses. And Lucy can't help but remember the hazy bits and pieces of her fifth birthday. Of her father presenting her with a beautifully boxed up gift. Her mother's disbelieving scowl over at the man as Lucy held the soft floral material up against her chest and beamed at her own reflection in the vault bathroom mirror. They way her father twirled her around the room in it for many a birthday after that, with only Norm, a few aging Cooper Howard movie posters, and blinding fluorescents overhead as audience, pride already flashing even brighter in her father’s eyes as every year she grew more and more into the perfect daughter she was expected to be. And though Lucy had been too young to consider yet just where that gift could have come from, those memories now scathed in the shadows, somewhere deep beneath her bones like a bustling city of thousands of people being blown to nothing more than ruin and ash.

And at this point, after fighting through all the many foul factions of the wasteland for just over a year and searching for a sense of fairness and freedom for so long before, she was so so far beyond sick of monsters masquerading as man.

It was why slipping from the confines of her vaultsuit and stepping into the rolling blue and gold layers of silk felt something like lying. Like putting on that ill-fitting wedding dress again and continuing to do as she was told. Adding her name to the list and filling the role set upon her from the very moment she came out screaming like a wild beast into her mother's arms and a carefully crafted existence.

She tugged her own suit up the slender plastic hips of the mannequin in trade. Zipped it securely closed with the final brush of her hands tenderly across the shoulders.

The worn leather slacked too big around the petite figure, and Lucy felt her own muscles clench the slightest bit in her newly exposed chest and upper arms. Her time away from the vault had made her only stronger. She could feel it in the easing of their long days trudging through the sand and restless nights with Cooper beneath the stars. In his harsh lessons and even harsher truths. But looking back at her mother’s last little hand-me-down gift as it sat wrong on the headless figure before her made her feel a bit like a child again; lost and alone in a world that was still so very much too big.

So she did just as she would when she was little. Turned the oldies station on low on her Pip Boy. Sat cross legged upon the cold dingy floor. Sought out her mother’s advice.

“I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to do here.” Lucy said, eyes falling to her mismatched fingers in her lap. She curled them loose into the soft pile of golden fabric. “I wasn’t so sure I was going to make it through mourning you the first time around…” she admitted soft, swallowing at the pain rising heavy in her throat. “But this… now… knowing everything I do… I- I understand why you left. And I’m sorry I couldn’t help sooner… I’m so sorry…” And Lucy had long run out of water to waste on tears so she only clenched her fists tighter over her thighs. Waited quietly for a reassurance that would never come again, receiving only silence in answer apart from the lilting voice of Skeeter Davis softly reminding her from her wrist that the end of the world had already long since passed.

Lucy could only blame her time above for being able to sense him well before she heard Cooper’s spurs clanging softly up the hall. And had it been even just a few months ago, she would have moved. Rose from the ground and stuck on a fake sunshine smile to avoid his prodding. Stood tall and still in the shadows like a predator in wait. But if he was going to continue to track her down every time she sought out solace, he was going to get what he got. Real and raw and just so very tired.

“There ain’t shit for supplies,” his rumbling voice started before rounding the corner, “but I did find somethin’ interestin’ you may wanna have a look at wh…” Cooper stilled like the dead in the shattered frame of the once glass door. Rendered entirely silent, though she could feel the burn of his eyes across her newly bared arms, the curves of her shoulders, her dark hair falling loose and wild down her back. “What the fuck are you doin’?” He finally managed, sounding much farther away than he actually stood.

“Oh you know, just talking to my mom.” Lucy spoke flat to the mannequin, unmoving. “You’re interrupting.” She added in dismissal after a long dead-silent moment, but she only heard his boots close in closer behind her.

So she held her breath and waited for the snide response to drawl from his lips. Something like ‘radaway’s losin’ its touch huh?’ she imagined first, or ‘Rose musta not took all the crazy with her when she left that fuckin’ vault...’

But as the pair of taunts grew hotter in her temples, nothing of the sort actually came from him... Which was odd enough in itself to make her finally look back over her shoulder.

What she found was a world weary man who looked as lost as she felt. The darkness of the decaying building clinging to the protective cloak of his duster like a long drawn curse that was pained to let go. He carried the weight of his own deep in the lines of his scalded face, wearing his own many anniversaries of suffering in scattered jagged scars, jaw tense as if he fought not to set free a rising snarl at the sight before him, browline drawn beneath the shadow of his hat like she’d spoken a foreign language he couldn’t quite grasp.

He eyed her hallowed vaultsuit as if personally affronted… Looked back down right at her, dark eyes sparking with something near that impenetrable mask of anger he so easily slipped on as they trailed slow down across the gathered yellow silk she fidgeted with at her waist, to the elegant tendrils of blue haloing in a wide puddle around her on the floor, shielding nearly as much of her body as the suit had, but still leaving her feeling so incredibly exposed to his studiously searching eyes.

“What is it?” Lucy asked after a moment, unable to take the scrutiny any longer, heart rate rising as she shifted where she sat.

And Cooper blinked as if hearing her for the first. “What’s with the getup?”

Lucy forced the breath from her nose, long and heavy. Tugged a bit of the fabric up in a false curtsy. “Oh this old thing?” She tried to tease but fell flat. “I've never had a dress of my own, you know? Always something borrowed… and Mom used to say blue was my color.” Lucy smoothed the silk back down over her hips, missing the way the claim struck Cooper’s expression like the hail Mary of a well aimed brick. “My eyes, I guess.” She shrugged away.

“No.” Cooper disagreed low after a long beat. “It ain't your eyes.” Then he took the two last steps to stand near her side. Reached down a hand. “C’mon I wanna show you somethin’.” And for a moment Lucy sat unmoving, glancing away from Cooper’s gloved offering up to the plastic shell of her mother one last time. “She ain't goin’ anywhere.” Cooper promised soft after a while of watching her struggle, in a way Lucy now knew that only he had every right to vow. And it's what finally drew her hand out slowly into his.

“Alright,” she breathed. And she rose.

—

The shop Cooper led her into was stacked floor to ceiling with disheveled shelves of books. Old wooden tables and chairs lined the front walls. Rows of cabinets had once cut lines through the center, now tipped and scattered by previous scavengers who must not have appreciated the incredibility of the rare bounty before her. But Lucy, however, was already mentally sorting through the contents of her pack and deciding what could be left behind to make more space.

It was the candlelight that eventually distracted her from the task. Lit aglow and sparsely set across the floor and on a few of the sturdier looking bookshelves all around the room, burning just bright enough to clear the murky darkness from the space…and it was the consideration of such a thing that emptied her chest, had Lucy steepling her hands over her mouth and gaping wide eyed all around her at the beautiful sight, the sheer number of books alone putting the vault’s ample collection to shame. But it was the man stood behind her in the darkened doorway that stopped her eyes. Silhouette framed in the soft glow of fire, features hidden almost entirely from view, but like the constant pull of the moon on the tide she could feel the weight of every ounce of his attention on only her.

“Cooper,” Lucy called low, letting her hands fall slow to her sides. “This is incredible. I've never seen so many books in my life.”

And he ambled forward at his name like a bloodbug drawn to the life pumping quick through her veins, sharp features softened by the warm glow.

“Really?” He drawled in that way that preambled the rudeness she'd so long been awaiting. Downplaying the situation every time it got too close to - something. And he was never one to disappoint. “I thought all that Vault Tec propaganda down there would at least rival a two bit bookshop.”

Lucy raised her eyes and turned away. Took another look about the room. Made her way to the closest shelf of books and let her fingertips brush lovingly across the dusted spines. Stacked a few aside that she had every intention of not leaving without.

“It wasn't just propaganda,” Lucy informed, his jab unable to reach her properly through the soft flickering of flame. “Vault distributed media was delegated and traded by the overseers.” She sought him out again with the turn of her neck. “And as you know, ours was particularly fond of fairytales and cowboys. Villeneuve and Wister. That sort of thing. Not to mention the movies…” her smile was mean, a brazen curve of her lips.

And Cooper said nothing in riposte, instead simply closing the space between them with slow, lazy steps. Rested a hand against the shelf on either side of her head as she turned to face him, closing in and casting his shadow across her in a way that once would have made her feel small.

Lucy only raised her chin, held his eyes above with the fire flickering hot in her own.

“Is that really what you wanna be doin’ today?” He asked her, a near growl as it rolled so close from his chest. “Defendin’ your daddy?”

And the reminder twisted in her ribs like a spike, aimed and true; memories of laughter and life and being twirled around in loving arms slowly, agonizingly morphing into something more fowl in her gut like her father's guiltless eyes as he'd finally confessed aloud his many many sins down the barrel of a gun… Her mother's meatless corpse sagging gaunt in a chair nearby…

“Dance with me.” Lucy blinked, only truly registering the words as they settled skewed into her own ears. The violins dipped and drew out the start of Billie Holiday's, Crazy He Calls Me from her Pip Boy between them like a taunt and there was no better title for the way Cooper’s sharp eyes searched her face.

“Do what now?”

“Dance with me.” Lucy repeated, just as unshaken. “You're right.” She nodded in truce. “I'd rather make new memories today than dwell on the old ones and my options are you or the mannequin.”

Cooper gauged her expression from mere inches above. Looked as if he awaited the splintering of her sanity beneath his glare. For the flinching call of her bluff as he raised his chin and thinned his eyes in a move she’d watched him use on countless others to sweeten a deal or seal a sentence. But Lucy only popped open the latch of her Pip Boy. Sat it nearby on the shelf. Held her hands out to him palms up in the dwindling space between them…

And Cooper took a step back and away. Squared his shoulders as if she had thrown a fist instead of anything near the beginnings of a dance.

“Mannequin would suit better.” He said in faint protest, stilling only a moment longer to meet her unyielding eyes before sighing, shrugging his duster from his shoulders and draping it over the back of a nearby chair. Pulling his gloves off and dropping them unceremoniously into the splintering seat.

And Lucy felt an altogether new sort of apprehension as he neared this time, sturdy arms straining against the worn fabric of his rarely seen sun-bleached undershirt. His bandolier of hastily crafted bullets glistened like sharp teeth across the visible rise and fall of his chest. He held a single bared hand out to her in offering, allowing her to take either that last fateful step forward or a silent final out…

And the thrill of it all was the best distraction she could ever ask for.

The fine hairs at the back of her neck rose in warning as she took this newest challenge in stride, just as she had the many before. “I don’t doubt it.” Lucy returned, resting a ruined-fingered hand over the solid curve of his shoulder. Cooper slipped her left into his and she couldn’t help but stare at that way her own something borrowed still looked pale and small against the rest of Cooper’s hand, wrapping warm and rough around her own. His other burned like a brand against her waist just as Billie sang of her own willingness to walk through fire and with it they were moving.

Cooper was a startlingly natural lead, sure in step and direction, guiding her along in soft curves of motion as if on instinct alone, whereas she stepped between his boots in thought absorbed angles, and it was a pre-war skill Lucy would not have imagined he cared to retain until that very moment. He’d always spoken so little of that time of his life, apart from Janey. And even if they weren’t spending an evening attempting to forget, she at very least knew better than to outright ask why.

The thought brought her foot down hard on his for what she guessed was the second or third time judging by his growl.

“That supposed to be a two step?” Cooper rumbled over her instead. “‘Cause you’re movin’ like a goddamn sheet of plywood down there.”

And Lucy laughed a breathy thing at the very real exasperation in his tone.

“I’m distracted is all.” She forced herself to meet his eyes, so close and scalding in the candlelight. Reminding her even more of the last time she’d seen him display such a talent. The same way her father had taught her so many years ago… and she just couldn't help herself. “I remember this from the scene right after you killed Joey… Where you went back to town and danced with the widow in -”

“Deadhorse ya,” Cooper scathed in answer, spinning her silent in an almost violent twirl out to arms reach before snapping her back, her spine pressing flush against the buttons lining down his vest so that the “don’t start,” was hissed directly into her ear. It effectively scattered her thoughts and sent gooseflesh rising down the exposed skin of her arms for a much different reason than she knew was intended. But then he stilled them. Kept a forearm wrapped firm across the front of her waist. “Kick them boots off so you don’t take my fuckin’ toes too.” He nodded down over her shoulder, the brim of his hat brushing against her scattered hair.

And she continued to follow his lead, shaking off one and then the other. Turned around again with minimal restraint as he took notice of her intention to face him once more. Lucy filled her lungs with the faint scent of old leather and smoke as his coarse fingers dragged slow patterns across the soft silk gathered at her hips. This time she brought both hands up to his shoulders. Felt his own slide home in a near perfect fit into the soft curves beneath her ribs.

Then they were moving again, easier, a more natural sway that brought him the slightest bit closer. Allowed her to truly see his features painted warm beneath his hat in the firelight. Those most others would deem ugly, the proof heard often enough in wretched slurs and slithered curses from near every small bit of civilization they passed. But here in the safety of their solitude, the candles flickered deep against the rugged hollows of his face and brought somehow more life to his hazel eyes. And though they had always been so incredible to her, those eyes, something about the way the glow sparked in them now, subdued and scorching back at her in equal measure, was almost another distraction worthy of misstep.

And she’d been doing so well until her eyes dropped to the side. Focused on the scattered splotches across his shoulders that proved his threadbare shirt had once been blue…

The music built and curled around them unimpeded by the realization, trumpets joining in with the strings to round out the repeated claims of being insane for all a number of reasons and Lucy couldn’t help but look down at her own feet again, strained and self deprecating as she focused on not stepping down onto his with the way her heart sped and cheeks flushed. His hands flexed at her waist.

“Relax.” Cooper bid low, undoubtedly sensing her struggle in her missteps and the growing tension of her muscles. “I ain’t in the mood for sparrin’ today and my drawin’ hand’s otherwise occupied, so you’re only fightin’ ya self.”

The upward curve of his bowed lips and drawl of his words spoke only truths, something almost sad touching his eyes, and Lucy found trusting in him still came all too easy. She watched as the rise of his browline painted a told ya so look across his face while she focused only on her own breaths and the warmth of his tender hold about her waist, her movements growing more and more fluid between those very same hands that she’d seen reap death and destruction with ease for just over a year now in search of her father and the answers they were owed. Coming up just short on near every lead and tumbling almost as violently into each other's arms in one way or another so often now that it seemed only necessary for survival.

“Perceptive.” She said finally.

But this was something else… It was just so…

It was simply different, Lucy decided, rising up onto her bare toes to press her lips against Cooper’s just because she wanted to. Taking unapologetically in a way that he had been forcefully tearing into her from the beginning. And she softly parted her lips over his unmoving ones. Waited for the beast to surface and rear its fangs or draw its claws. To push her away with a shove or back her forcefully against the nearest surface in a deliciously dizzying coin toss of chance. Because, yes the beast was in there somewhere she knew well enough, but it was Cooper who had pulled her up from the floor of her vigil. Cooper who’d lit the candles that warmed the air around them; of a bookshop of all places. Cooper who still distracted her from her woes now in dance…

And it was Cooper who kissed her back. Took her face into the sanctity of his hands to tilt and deepen it, his lips a hot brand across her own as he held her steady and tasted her slow in languid shallow swipes of his tongue along her lower lip. He parted from her just long enough for Lucy to draw a greedy breath from the shared air between them. Then he kissed her again, another sweet short press of his mouth over hers before he whispered “I gotcha somethin’ else,” near voiceless into the corner of her moony grin.

Then he leaned back just enough to meet her eyes, his own expression sobering like he stood on the precipice of some great divide, and Lucy dared him to jump with the slight tilt of her head in question.

Then he pulled out a drooping flower from the pocket of his slacks. A sun-bleached plastic rose that must have once been red before the end of the world and the crushing hands of time; petals welting and half melted... And her heart did a funny painful pair of skips in her chest at the sight of it held out to her in his own repeatedly scarred and sewn together hand.

“What? It ain't enchanted or some shit.” Cooper said harsh, shifting an inch on his own two feet. A first misstep since they started this new dance. “I just know what it's like to not have a grave to mourn is all.” He tried again. “Don’t read too much into it.”

And what a feint it was to reach for in a room set aglow, filled to the brim with warmth and music; bound leather and parchment...

Lucy’s smile was all straight white teeth.

“Of course not,” she succumbed, taking the rose from him carefully and tucking the stem safely away into the sash of her dress so that her hands were free to reach back out for what she really wanted. “I never really liked reading anyway,” she soothed, wrapping her wrists loose about the back of his neck and looking past him at a few new titles that would be soon added to her pile. “Though my bag has been feeling awful light lately.”

And Cooper chuckled soft, a deep rumble from his throat.

“Fuck the books,” he said, breath ghosting warm against the sensitive skin at the side of her neck. Then his hands slid heavy through the silk pooled low at her back, drew her in close against his chest. “Pack the dress.”

And for a long long while they danced together and forgot.

#ghoulcy #vaultghoul #fallout #beauty and the beast crossover #ghoulcy atomic blast event #fallout fanfic #thou shalt be sidetracked #cooper howard #lucy maclean #cooper x lucy #fallout tv series

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rachelfloof · 5 months ago

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Caramel Arrow being Dark Cacao’s daughter is a bad headcanon.

I’ve been keeping this to myself for a long time, but there are so many things about this headcanon that bother me, both obvious and less obvious things. There’s certain things about it that I’m surprised people don’t consider and don't realize. I can tolerate it because I can totally understand why people would hc this, but the more I thought about it, the more problems I found with it. I feel like they need to finally be pointed out because, in my opinion, this headcanon does not deserve the popularity it has.

Before I start explaining my thoughts, I want to emphasize that this is JUST MY OPINION. you DO NOT have to change your own opinion after reading this. These are simply my PERSONAL thoughts on this, and you DO NOT have to agree with me. Also, if you DO agree, I DO NOT condone sending hate to or attacking those who disagree with me and/or continue to use this headcanon.

The family headcanon directly conflicts with Caramel Arrow’s character in two major ways. The first is in regard to her ancestors. Following in her ancestors footsteps and honoring their legacy is one of Caramel Arrow’s main motivations. Caramel Arrow currently has one piece of cutscene art, depicting her praying to her fallen ancestors, as well as several quotes where she mentions defending the kingdom, just like her ancestors did (1 star promotion quote). If Dark Cacao is her father, then what ancestors is she talking about? because I know damn well it’s not Mystic Flour.

The only way this headcanon works without conflicting with the canon is if you ship Dark Cacao with a mortal who has a long history of serving the Dark Cacao kingdom (like the Second Watcher, for example). Despite this, Caramel Arrow being biologically related to Dark Cacao in any way brings up the second major issue and, in my opinion, the most damaging issue.

Caramel Arrow’s loading screen trivia states, "Caramel Arrow Cookie became the First Watcher at a young age…" Which is something I feel like has to be one of Caramel Arrow’s biggest achievements in her life. First Watcher is a really highly esteemed role; she’s essentially the top general of Dark Cacao’s most elite troops. Therefore, she likely had to work really hard to be able to become First Watcher, especially at so young.

However, with the added context of Dark Cacao being her father, I feel that it heavily reduces the gravity of this achievement. Dark Cacao is the king; he could’ve easily been biased in Caramel Arrow’s favor when deciding who to make First Watcher since she’d be his daughter. Dark Cacao’s kid being in such a high position at such a young age makes the earning of that role seem like a blatant display of nepotism.

Yesss, why not add taking away positions from people who actually deserve it more to the list of reasons why Dark Cacao is a bad person? /s

By making Caramel Arrow seem more undeserving of her position, you’re essentially weakening the strong woman character. Turning her from “hard-working girl boss” into “daddy’s girl.”

Speaking of Dark Cacao being a bad person, Dark Cacao treating Caramel Arrow like a daughter makes him look even worse when you factor in what he did to Dark Choco. So essentially, what’s happening is that Dark Cacao emotionally neglects Dark Choco while at the same time treating his younger child with the love that Dark Choco originally deserved.

All of the previously mentioned problems go away if you just interpret Dark Cacao and Caramel Arrow’s relationship for what it is. Which is NOT BIOLOGICALLY RELATED. By making them family, you’re heavily simplifying her character; her motivations for standing by the king and the prince go from “this is my sworn duty, and I want to honor my ancestors.” to “oh, it’s because the royal family is my family too.” So it makes her motives seem more like an empty obligation and expectation rather than something she’s worked for and voluntarily committed to because she’s genuinely just that passionate and dedicated about the homeland that her ancestors have fought and died for over generations.

The only way this headcanon works is if Caramel Arrow becomes Dark Cacao’s daughter AFTER everything is said and done with her becoming First Watcher and Dark Choco taking the sword. Which can only really happen if you ship Dark Cacao x Second Watcher or Dark Cacao x Dark Cacaoian OC while having the two characters fall in love AFTER Dark Choco leaves, making Caramel Arrow his stepdaughter. Or if you headcanon Caramel Arrow as his ADOPTED daughter rather than biological, of course with the adoption happening after Dark Choco leaves.

Even then, Dark Cacao adopting his First watcher after everything already happens would just be super random and weird. That’s like if a worker climbs the ranks in the company they work at, becomes COO, and then the CEO just decides to adopt their COO because they become close. Based on the Cookies of Darkness flashback, Caramel Arrow would likely be a full-grown adult by the time Dark Choco leaves with the sword, so Dark Cacao adopting this grown woman would just be kind of weird and unnecessary.

Despite everything I just said, Dark Cacao CAN still see Caramel Arrow like a daughter, and Caramel Arrow CAN still see Crunchy Chip like a brother WITHOUT any of them actually being on each other’s family tree. They can just have a close platonic relationship with each other where they kind of see each other as like a second family, except, of course, they’re not actually related. Rather, they're almost like a family-like friend group or in other words, a friend group with a family-like bond.

This is the end of my little ramble, in case you forgot about the disclaimer at the top, this is just my opinion. Re-read the disclaimer in big red text if you need to. you don't need to agree with me. and I hope everyone has a good day. <3

Also, remember to never be a hater to anyone, hating is cringe ngl.

#caramel arrow cookie #dark cacao cookie #cookie run #crk #cookie run kingdom #dark choco cookie

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cdragons · 11 months ago

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Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao. Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī. Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros. Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao. Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī. Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros. Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

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#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd au #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x oc #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x oc #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #reader insert

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