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h4nj1sunggg · 1 month ago

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𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 ( l. minho x h. jisung ) - 00.

chapter 00. words: 2.1k

The crisp mountain air lingered faintly on your clothes as you dragged the last suitcase down the dimly lit hallway. This was it: your new home. For the first time in your twenty one years, you were moving out of your quiet village into a place that could hold something exciting, something life-changing—or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Come on, push harder! This thing won’t fit,” your best friend, Y/bsf/n, grumbled as she struggled to shove a box through the narrow doorway.

“Stay calm! Look, tilt it a little like this,” you replied, shifting the box slightly until it finally slid into your new apartment with a satisfying thud. The two of you paused, leaning against the doorframe, breathless and laughing.

The hallway was comically small, just two doors facing each other, with scuffed beige walls that seemed to have seen their fair share of new tenants. Your apartment was modest—two bedrooms, a cool bathroom, a walk in kitchen, and a living area that barely fit the second-hand couch you’d brought. But it was yours, and that was enough for now. You glanced at Y/bsf/n, whose usual cheeky grin was stretched wide across her face.

“What are you staring at? It’s not a palace, but you’ll see…” she teased, tossing her hair back dramatically.

You rolled your eyes. “I was just thinking… we’re really here. It feels weird, doesn’t it?”

She shrugged. “Weird is our trademark. Now get in there and start unpacking!”

As you hauled the last bag inside, the door across the hallway creaked open just a crack, and a pair of tired brown eyes peeked out. Han Jisung leaned against the doorframe, his fluffy brown hair sticking out in every direction, still wearing the oversized hoodie he’d thrown on after practice. It had been a grueling night for him and his bandmates, working on choreography for their upcoming concert. He hadn’t expected to be woken up early by the sound of doors slamming and muffled voices in a language he didn’t recognize.

“What the…” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and squinting at the noise coming from your side of the hallway. He could hear two voices, animated and cheerful despite the ungodly hour.

“...Can you believe we found a place this cheap?” your best friend’s voice rang out, pulling a groggy sigh from Jisung’s lips.

“Cheap? More like a shoebox with a door,” you shot back, grinning as Y/bsf/n shoved you playfully.

“Hey!” Jisung’s voice cracked slightly as he called out, stepping fully into the hallway. He hadn’t meant to sound so sharp, but sleep deprivation had robbed him of his usual charm. You and Y/bsf/n froze mid-motion, turning toward the sound. For a moment, no one said anything.

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes landed on him. It took a second for your brain to catch up. Han Jisung. Standing there in front of you. Your mind scrambled to piece together the surreal image: messy hair, hoodie, unmistakably tired but still undeniably him. Your chest tightened, a strange mixture of panic and disbelief flooding through you.

“…What did he say?” Y/bsf/n whispered in your ear, clearly just as confused as you were.

“Uh…” you stammered, fumbling for words, and then switched to English. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to be loud.”

Jisung’s irritation softened slightly when he noticed the genuine apology in your voice. He looked between you and Y/bsf/n, who was still watching him with wide eyes.

“It’s okay,” he replied, his voice softer this time. “I just… had a long night. Didn’t mean to snap.”

“Oh, um… sorry again. We just moved in,” you explained, your accent making the words lilting and soft. Y/bsf/n elbowed you gently, mouthing something you didn’t catch. You ignored her, your focus entirely on Jisung.

“You’re… new neighbors?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward your door.

You nodded quickly. “Yes, we are.”

He gave a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well… welcome, I guess. Sorry about the hallway. It’s kind of small.”

“Yeah, it’s… cozy,” you replied, mentally cringing at your choice of words.

Before the conversation could stretch into an awkward silence, a second figure appeared behind Jisung. Minho—Lee Minho, you realized, your heart doing another uncomfortable somersault—peeked out, resting his chin on Jisung’s shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Minho asked, his voice still heavy with sleep. His eyes flickered toward you and Y/bsf/n, and then back to Jisung.

“New neighbors,” Jisung murmured.

Minho’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer than was comfortable before he offered a polite nod. “Welcome,” he said simply, before retreating back into their apartment.

“Sorry again about the noise,” you said quickly, your cheeks burning as Jisung followed Minho back inside, the door clicking shut behind them. For a long moment, the hallway was silent.

“So… that was Han Jisung?” Y/bsf/n asked finally, breaking the tension. Her tone was casual, but you could see the glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Yes,” you muttered, dragging your suitcase the rest of the way into the apartment. “and lee minho.”

The door closed behind you with a faint creak, and you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Y/bsf/n immediately flopped onto the couch, stretching out dramatically and tossing her arm over her face.

“Okay, let’s be real—what just happened?” she asked, her voice muffled by the cushion. “That was Han Jisung, right? Like, the Han Jisung?”

You sank onto the armrest of the couch, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. “Yes. It was him. And Minho. They live across the hall.”

Y/bsf/n shot upright, her eyes wide. “They live here? Oh my God, you’re going to see him every day. You’re going to—”

“Stop,” you interrupted, burying your face in your hands. “Don’t make it a big deal. He’s just a person. A really famous, really talented person… who now probably thinks we’re the most annoying neighbors ever.”

Y/bsf/n smirked, leaning forward to poke your arm. “Oh, please. You were polite, and honestly, you didn’t even fangirl. I’m proud of you.”

You groaned, standing up to unpack the nearest box. “I’m not going to fangirl over my neighbor. That’s embarrassing.”

She hummed thoughtfully, watching you dig through the box. “You say that now, but what about when you bump into him again? Or when you hear him singing through the walls? Or—”

“Can we focus on unpacking?” you cut her off, pulling out a stack of plates and heading toward the kitchen. “I need to set up the kitchen so we can eat something later. And you can unpack your room instead of sitting there and teasing me.”

“Fine,” she sighed dramatically, standing up and grabbing her own suitcase. “But mark my words, this is going to be fun to watch.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. The two of you spent the next hour unpacking in relative silence, save for the occasional clatter of dishes or a laugh as you discovered yet another random item Y/bsf/n had insisted on bringing. Your tiny kitchen slowly came to life, each cabinet filling with mismatched plates, glasses, and the essentials you’d brought from home.

Y/bsf/n poked her head into the kitchen after finishing her room, holding up a framed photo of the two of you. “Where should this go?”

You smiled, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Living room, maybe? It’ll make the place feel cozier.”

She nodded and placed it on the small table by the couch. As she stepped back to admire it, she glanced toward the door. “Do you think they’re talking about us?”

You followed her gaze, a strange fluttering in your chest at the thought. “Probably not. They’re probably too busy… being them.” or doing each other. either way it sounds pretty hot for your fantasies, unfortunately. Your hands busy to clean up the next bowl that your mother overpacked for you and your bubbly friend.

Y/bsf/n laughed, plopping onto the couch again. “I bet they’re not even thinking about us. But still, this is going to be interesting. Us, living next to literal celebrities. You couldn’t write this stuff.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, let’s just try not to get evicted for being loud on our first day.” You stepped into the kitchen, the golden afternoon sunlight filtering through the window, casting a soft glow across the warm, rustic space. It was your favorite corner of the house—a place where nostalgia and comfort intertwined. Cream-colored cabinets lined the walls, their vintage charm complemented by wooden countertops that seemed to tell stories of meals shared and laughter exchanged. A farmhouse sink sat proudly under the window, its porcelain surface still damp from the morning's dishes. The black faucet arched elegantly, its modern touch contrasting gently with the room's aged character. You can already imagined the shared moments with y/bsf/n there.

You eyes drifted to the open wooden shelves above, lined with glass jars of spices, mugs of mismatched shapes, and a small framed photograph that leaned casually against the wall. A tall snake plant stretched toward the ceiling, its green leaves reaching like a quiet companion observing the day unfold. Hanging from the ceiling, a row of exposed bulbs dangled like little suns, suspended from a wooden beam—an industrial touch softened by the room's cozy spirit.

You ran your hand across the kitchen island as you passed, where a lemon sat next to a vase of dried flowers—simple things, yet they made the room feel alive. The faint scent of wood and herbs lingered in the air as you paused to look at the framed landscape painting above. It had belonged to your grandmother, a woman whose kitchen always smelled of bread and fresh herbs. Here, surrounded by plants that grew freely and cutting boards stacked like art, you could still feel your grandmother’s spirit—warm, gentle, and forever a part of this place.

She threw a pillow at you, and the two of you dissolved into laughter, the tension of the morning finally giving way to the comfort of being with your best friend in your new home. As you folded up the last of the empty boxes, your mind wandered back to the hallway. You couldn’t help but imagine what Jisung and Minho were doing just on the other side of the wall. Were they still talking about you and Y/bsf/n? Or had they already moved on with their day? Maybe Jisung was sprawled out on a couch, headphones on, nodding his head to a beat only he could hear. You pictured Minho beside him, scrolling through his phone or teasing Jisung for something small—maybe for the hoodie that still looked two sizes too big. The image was so vivid, you could almost hear the soft hum of their voices blending with the faint music playing in the background.

“They probably don’t even remember us,” you muttered to yourself, trying to shake the thought away.

“What?” Y/bsf/n called from her room, clearly having overheard.

“Nothing!” you replied quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

But even as you busied yourself with organizing the last few items, the thought of Jisung’s soft smile and Minho’s steady presence lingered in the back of your mind, tugging at your curiosity. Later, you curled up on the beige sofa in the living room, cradling a cup of tea as the last rays of sunlight painted golden streaks on the walls. The room was quiet, filled only with the faint hum of the outside world and the ticking of a clock. Across the room, the light wood floor glowed softly, its surface interrupted only by a cream shag rug that stretched beneath the coffee table. The table—round and woven from rattan—held a small vase of fresh flowers y/bsf/n had brought over that afternoon after a short walk to get some fresh air. They were a mix of pinks and whites, a burst of life amidst the neutral palette.

You leaned back against the plush cushions of the L-shaped sofa, her eyes drifting up to the three framed prints above. They were minimal, depicting architectural scenes in faded sepia tones. Your mind wandered as you traced their outlines, imagining the stories hidden within those buildings. Above you, a rattan pendant light hung like a lantern, its glow gentle and familiar when night finally came.

To your right, sheer curtains swayed softly in the breeze, framing the large window that overlooked the garden. A tall, leafy plant sat in the corner—its green leaves bathed in sunlight. Another stood by the TV console, where the television lay silent, surrounded by carefully chosen decorations: a framed photo, a small stack of books, and yet another potted plant.

You smiled faintly, pulling your legs beneath you as you tucked the blanket closer. This room was simple, yet every element—from the plants to the wooden furniture—whispered calmness. It felt like a space suspended in time, where every corner, every ray of light, and every carefully chosen detail told a story.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　 ( masterlist ) . ᯓᡣ𐭩　 ( masterlist roommates ) .

taglist ! @estella-novella

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forbidden-sin-bin · 8 months ago

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By Your Side - Chapter 3

Summary: Only appearing as a mere background extra a few times, your hopes of landing a large enough role to be truly seen dwindles by the minute. In the midst of the long wait, you bury yourself in being the hardest working part-time barista the café has to offer.

Oh, and say hello to your new manager, who’s also working hard to make ends meet.

---

August 27, 1997

---

Brushing your apron smooth, you made your way to the cash register with a your usual practiced smile. "Welcome to the Tango Palace. What can I get you today?"

The welcoming expression on your face was far from the reality of your situation right now. And boy, it was bad.

Ever since the trip from New York feeling like a success, the days of receiving nothing but silence on your end slowly melted into creeping disappointment. Waiting by the phone for hours on end, all for nothing, the day wasted.

And it wasn't just the callback that you were waiting for: you had dozens of tryouts in the race against many others - improvs, scripts, interviews, singing, even a literal hand evaluation - in order to take that one and only spot of being chosen.

Though your parents were always happy whenever you landed a spot as an extra in the background of a single scene, be it movie or tv show, it did nothing to quell the shot-through nerves of wondering if the agency would ever give you an update on that callback you did.

At this point, nearing the new school year for Quinn's first year of kindergarten was the only silver lining in all of this. No doubt, you were proud, but it was bittersweet seeing them grow so fast. It seemed as if it were only yesterday that you had brought him home from the hospital, and in a blink he's walking, talking and ready to learn how to read.

In fact, you were so lost in reminiscing you nearly missed your customer's order.

Realizing you may or may not have zoned out for a second too long, you mentally slapped yourself as you quickly typed out the order. "S-sorry! Was it a regular coffee, one cream, no sugar?"

"And a quiche." Your customer sighed. "Jesus Christ..."

You nodded as you forced down your panic and irritation at the backhanded comment, giving them the total as you set the register to print out the receipt. "Alright, it'll only take a second." Whipping around, you set to work on pouring out a steaming hot cup of coffee, freshly brewed, and placing a pre-prepared veggie quiche out of the fridge and into the oven, dialing the settings to heat it just right.

Holding back your own sigh, you leaned back on the countertop as you waited. Truth be told, you weren't sure if the thought of getting fired was more stressful, or the thought of becoming a good-for-nothing that's entirely possible in the near future was worse. Either way, you couldn't lose this job.

The owners were kind enough, and business wasn't overly crowded with people, but you wanted to show them that hiring you was the best decision they could've made. Thinking about anything that isn't the job is the complete opposite of what you're trying to prove.

'Don't think of anything but what's in front of you, right now.'

---

Later that evening...

---

You tossed each letter onto the table in two separate piles; One for bills, the other for junk mail. After an uneventful day of serving customers, you returned home as always, filtering out the mail for your parents before they came home.

It wouldn't be long before the school year started, and you'd have to cut your hours in order to pick Quinn up from school, elsewise he'd be stuck in the after-care program till six, which wasn't fair for him at all.

It wasn't as if your family was poor or in debt, rather down on its luck. Your parents working at desk jobs required them to be there from at least nine to five, there was little to no time to take a break, especially now that they're not just working to keep the house afloat; If all else failed, you'd have to pick a course and go through community college just to get some degree that'll help you find a job that pays.

A part of you feared that you'd be kicked out eventually, which terrified your thoughts of not being able to take care of Quinn. And not being able to take care of Quinn means you're probably getting kicked out of the house like every other parent does to their kid that doesn't deliver.

Alright, that last part is debatable. But it’s possible, and you weren’t taking any chances.

And by not taking any chances, you sure as hell weren’t about to let the phone ring twice as you practically leaped over the kitchen table to pick it up.

"Hi! Hello?! Sorry- hello?"

"H-hello? Hi, is this-?" A stressed voice stutters out your first and last name.

Your face, initially bright with hope fell comically quick as you realized it wasn't an agency calling you for a role. Instead, a somewhat nervous voice of a young man answered. From how he sounded you could tell he was sweating bullets coming out of the other side of the phone.

"Yes, hi. That would be correct." You replied, not bothering to hide your deadpan shift in mood. This however didn't seem to phase the stranger.

"Oh, great! I saw your resume sent in to my agency, and I see you're looking for an agent to represent you in the coming years? Hopefully trying to find work?"

A few seconds of silence passed as you processed his response. 'Oh shoot, they actually remembered?' You thought with wide eyes.

"He-hello?"

"Yep, still on the line. May I ask who's calling?"

"Sean Warden. Sorry I should've introduced myself at the start but-"

You cut him off. "All good. And to answer your question: Yes. I'm in need of assistance in receiving job offers. Is that sufficient?"

"Awesome. So, the reason I'm calling you right now is because I have a proposition to offer you."

Again, silence, as if he was awaiting a reaction out of you. You however, had already begun to lose patience. "...Please continue." You held back a sigh, beginning to wonder if this is some sort of prank call or scam caller.

Still, this 'Sean' guy seemed either desperate or eager as he revealed his intention.

"I would like to represent you as your agent."

...

A few hours later...

...

"I'm going to be honest with you: This is not how I expected a potential signing of a client to look like."

Sitting inside a Tim Horton's café, coffee cups in hand, you found yourself sitting at a two-person table with a young, skittish and scrawny looking man in his mid to late twenties. Admittedly, this isn't the kind of guy you'd expect to meet.

Sharing an awkward silence, both of you holding small black coffees, neither of you had the gall to break the painful, painful silence. At least, until you've finished reading the whole entire contract that he gave you.

Given you're in the middle of the second page out of... eight, this was going to be a long evening.

Flicking your gaze at him for a brief glance away from your reading, you saw no impatience, only anxiousness, in his face. "Sorry if I'm taking up your time." You offered, figuring it'd be the least you could do for someone who hasn't been pushing your buttons.

Sean waves you off. "No need, I'm just happy you've agreed to even see me. I'll take anything, really."

You raised a brow. 'Anything, he says.' Your thoughts wandered away to making it seem as if you weren't the first option of employment, probably the last.

"O-oh, no no nonono, I didn't mean it like that!" He corrects himself, probably noticing or fearing that he might've made you reconsider signing that contract. "I mean- like-" He sighs, covering his face with a hand, filled with stress. "Don't get me wrong, I absolutely wanted to pick you as a client. I've seen your resume and everything; I can see the potential you have, I mean it."

Nodding, you resumed scanning the papers. "Continue. I'm listening, don't worry." Seeing that he hadn't missed his shot, he relaxed a little.

"I'm not trying to sell a sob story, it's just the truth. As you may know, the work I do is to find others work; Aspiring actors, music artists, the like? I'm no beginner to this, I've had many clients in the past and I haven't failed finding them jobs. But when there's older, more experienced agents... Well, you'd want to be represented by them more than me."

You hummed in acknowledgement, not taking your eyes off the contract as you flipped to page 3.

"My last three clients have all decided to move on to find a more renowned agency, meaning that as of now, I've no one to find work for, which also means my wages are little to none at the moment." Sean finished, clasping his hands together and resting them on the table, looking down as he finished. "What I'm offering you right now isn't the end all, be all. I promise you, regardless of what's going on in my personal and home life, I'll give it my all to find you what you need." It almost sounds like a plead, coming from him. "If you end up parting ways with me in the future, that's more than okay! It's just... please. Give me this chance to help you out."

Finally, you raised your head to look at him. Keeping your face neutral, you finally spoke after a few moments:

"Could you do something for me, if I do sign?"

He nodded eagerly. "Yeah, of course! What is it?"

Taking sip of your coffee first, you then reached into your bag and handed him your notebook. Well, one of many... but you knew this one had something you were looking for, and you couldn't reach it by yourself.

Flipping through to the page you wanted him to see, you slid the notebook over too him. "There's someone I know that's been looking to release an EP this year... probably this year, I don't know exactly. Problem is, you can't find their stuff here, only in Detroit. Think you could help me out?"

"Can I?" He almost laughed in relief. "Say no more." Scanning the written contact info that wasn't written in your hand, you watched as he holds the notebook closer to his face as something flickers across his expression. "Hold on a second..." First starting from genuine interest slowly melted to confusion, then familiarity.

You raised a brow. "Is everything alright?"

Suddenly, Sean's gray eyes widened in recognition, and indignation.

"OH, NOT THAT BALD-HEADED BASTARD?!"

...

....

.....

A few weeks later...

...

"OH, NOT THAT SMUG FUCKIN TWINK."

Marshall's head snapped up from writing another let of lyrics as he looked at his recently-signed agent, Paul. "The fuck you goin on about man?"

Holding the letter in his hands, Paul looked like he was glaring daggers into the paper. "Not you! It's this guy that I knew from law school, fucking annoying is what he was." Tossing the paper to his table, he sighed as he walked out of the room. "Take a look if you want, apparently his client claims to know you or something. They're waiting for your EP."

'How the hell'd they know already, this fuckin early?' Marshall picked up the paper, lazily scanning through the content that somehow got Paul pissed enough to take a hike. The signed name of the writer, Sean Warden, didn't ring any bells except the one labelled: 'white guy's name', if it wasn't obvious enough.

No one here would name their kid Sean, for fucks sake.

The name of his client however... slowly, but eventually remembering that day they met, even if it was only for a few minutes, was not forgotten on either of them, it seems.

Marshall huffed out a laugh.

"Hoooooooly fuckin shit. That bitch actually did it."

----

(End of Chapter 3)

----

A/N: HAPPY 1 YEAR AND... *checks calendar* NEARLY THREE MONTHS Y'ALL

Yep.

I think you already know I'm about to apologize again, so uhh... I'm extremely, very sorry? If any of you are still waiting I'm incredibly sorry for the long ass wait. I said previously it was all uphill from here, which was a LIE IT SEEMS

But just to make it up to you all... Chapter 4 is coming THIS WEEK. So there's something to look forward too I hope! Chapter 5 is coming a few weeks after as well. But I hope this suffices for now, thank you for your patience <3

Taglist: @eminemsorangejuice , @slimshay-castle , @jackiehollanderr , @mizzysx , @esposadomd , @dimitrampl , @hallecarey1 , @krillfromsky , @nabiiturner, @swimregulas , @olivesarenicetoeat17 , @linnottt , @harryswif3 , @liathelioness , @roundbrownlover , @crimsonincursive , @akemiixx01 , @lizzy06 , @chxe-zdechnac , @ellies-femme , @qwerrry , @born2wyn , @thefemalestorywriter , @milllieeee , @neozen-23 , @in0320

(Let me know in my ask box if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

#by your side series #eminem x reader #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #eminem fanfiction #bys series #Sin Bin Books

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lucozadehulahoop · 1 year ago

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A Question of Time (Astarion x afab!Tav) part 4/?

Chapter summary: Astarion comes to terms with the peculiar effects of Tav's blood running through his veins, and leaving her is becoming more difficult than he'd originally anticipated.

Also: Astarion unwillingly finds himself reading a smut fic.

Tags and T.W.:pre-bg3!Astarion, slave!Astarion, demi-goddess!tav, kinda NSFW (minors stay away kindly, thank you darlings).

words: 2.5k

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

Tav felt the bite before she could even see it coming.

In her complete state of confusion, he twisted her hands even tighter in Astarion's shirt, frightened yet seeking comfort from the strong hold he had on her at the same time.

They were completely locked in on each other, almost as if letting a single breath of air between them would have been a fatal mistake.

Tav whimpered softly as her mind finally caught up with the sharp pain in her neck, the languid pull of her blood being drained from her flesh. She would have been lying if she said she hadn't already suspected something about Astarion's nature, but it had never quite mattered to her in the grand scheme of things.

"A-Astarion..." She pleaded with him, uncertain on whether he'd be able to stop himself. Tav wasn't human, she could withstand most perils situations that others couldn't, but neither of them could know the consequences of a vampire drinking her blood of all people.

Astarion was completely lost in his bliss. Not only had he just broken one of his Master's cardinal commandments by drinking the blood of a thinking creature, but he'd just switched from two centuries of eating rats and dogs to sipping on the very ambrosia of the gods.

He felt strong. No, more than that, he felt invincible, like he could walk right up to Cazador and snap him in half if he wanted to.

The next thing he felt was warmth begin to spread through his body in the first time since forever. He let out a groan of relief, sinking his teeth even deeper into Tav's neck, making her cry out. "Astarion, please!" And that, was when he finally remembered himself and what he was doing, his eyes flying open in alarm.

He was very careful to hold her still as to not hurt her while he retracted his fangs in the most gentle manner he could muster. "Oh what have I done-- what have I done?" Astarion cursed himself as he looked at Tav' vacant eyes and the giant gaping wound he'd just given her. In a fit of panic, he first attempted to stop the bleeding by putting pressure on her neck with his hand, then opted to do the same with the nearest, cleanest piece of fabric he could find.

He brought her over to the bed so she could lay down, never once stopping the pressure he was keeping over he wound. "Tav? Tav, darling, keep those pretty eyes on me now--" Astarion tried his best to keep her from drifting further away from him, but his attempts were seeming more and more fruitless by the second. "No, no don't you do this to me, okay? I made a mistake --- a truly wretched mistake. I never meant-I never wanted to hurt you please-"

Astarion suddenly heard the words he was speaking out loud in his own head. Was he worried? For someone else other than him? Was he afraid to... lose Tav? He blinked a single tear and realised his face wasn't just wet with Tav's blood. He was... crying.

"Tav, just... just say something... please darling, I'd give anything to... hear that bratty little voice of yours right now..." Astarion pleaded with her silently, undecided if he was more afraid about her dying in his arms or how much it hurt to care about another person again after so long. And why did he care so much about her? The two of them weren't lovers, nor had they known each other long.

Maybe it was the fact Astarion was now aware of what she'd sacrificed for him. That despite appearances, she was just as much of a prisoner inside the Crimson Palace as he was.

It could have been because he saw an affinity in their rather different tragidies. Or maybe... Tav had been the only person he'd met in his undead life that had tried her best to help him without seemingly wanting anything back from him. It could have been that Astarion may have possibly been harbouring the small hope of having found a friend, someone who didn't treat him like a monster or use him for his body. Someone he was beginning to like, that drew him in with her insufferable self righteousness and her pouty lips---

"Shh, quiet..." Her sweet voice came to him finally. "Can't you hear it? Your heart... it's beating." She murmured weakly before falling asleep with her head on his chest.

Astarion feared the worst. Tav was clearly delirious, thinking that she could hear the heart beat of a vampire --- then he felt it too. Incredulously, Astarion put a hand over his chest and listened. His heart... was truly beating.

He laughed in shock, welcoming the tears of joy that ran down his face as he tried his best not to hurt Tav while his hand was still keeping pressure on the wound.

For five more minutes Astarion lay in bed and revelled in the fact he had a beating heart once more. Then, slowly, the steady rhythm began to de down until it finally came to a familiar halt. Tav's blood had briefly, but undoubtedly made him human.

With a cool head once again, Astarion managed to rationalise the intense feelings he'd felt while he'd been worried sick over Tav. He wouldn't have been able to fret over her so much in his normal state, but that didn’t mean they hadn't been real. For a brief moment he'd been yanked out of the hardened selfish shell that came with being a vampire and he'd remembered what it felt like to care for someone else.

So... he hadn't always been such a bad person, he thought as he gazed down at Tav, who was still sleeping on his chest. Thankfully, he wound had been healing fast, at almost unnatural speed.

That still didn't make things right.

He'd taken something from her forcefully, used her for his own needs. And he would have been a dirty liar if he said he hadn't liked it too. A single taste of her blood and he'd been brought to ecstasy.

Now back in the seat of power, his selfish mind told him Tav was too valuable to let go. She made him strong, gave him unimaginable pleasure. What if... he could walk in daylight if he just drank enough of her blood? Even if only for a few hours...

Things would be even more complicated if Astarion were willing to openly acknowledge how deeply he desired Tav. The mere thought of it scratched at a possessive itch at the back of his brain he hadn't even been aware he had. She may have been powerful, but she was too sweet, too trusting of the world despite the environment she'd experienced. Shouldn't it have been... Astarion's responsibility to keep her from harm? From the terrible monsters out there who wouldn't have thought twice about exploiting her? After all, he owed her, considering everything she had done for him...

...☆...

When Tav woke up, she found tea and biscuits on the bedside table. She tentatively touched the cup with her fingers and found it to be cold, almost as if the beverage had been prepared hours ago.

She looked around to find she was back in her room, snugly tucked into her bed. Reaching for her neck, she let out a slight hiss at how tender her flesh still felt.

"Thought you might like to know... prince charming himself is here... and I doubt he's looking for me..." Astarion sneered as he looked out the window, his sharp eyes zeroing in on the valiant young knight who'd come to court Tav. It should have been none of his business. The sun had nearly almost set and it was about time he himself go going before he wasted another night.

Tav barely managed to sit up on the bed. It didn't usually take her so long to recover whenever she got hurt. Yet, she was feeling rather... sluggish and warn out. "Oh... is it one of those people asking for handkerchiefs again?" Tav huffed, closing her eyes and rubbing her midriff a little. "Just throw one down for him, will you Astarion? I don't understand... is there a shortage of cloth in the city? There's always a new one coming around... singing a song or asking very nicely..."

Astarion gave Tav a look of pure confusion. Did she really think that knights and nobles trying to serenate her at dusk were simply people who needed handkerchiefs? It clicked in his head then, that when a lady would give a token of her favour, the token usually resembled something akin to an embroidered cloth or handkerchief.

When the realisation hit, he burst out laughing in Tav's face.

"What?" Tav searched his face for a reason to his hilarity, now she was the one to be confused. "The first time it happened... this gentleman showed up, he was a terrible singer, kept me up all night with his... whining... so I started throwing things at him. Out of the pile, he picked at a handkerchief, seemed pretty happy, and left. Never saw him again. The others have been more or less the same."

It wasn't hard to believe they never came back. Trespassing on Cazador's grounds at night was dangerous business. Astarion grinned to himself in a rather evil thought. Tav had been unknowingly drawing in a fair amount of unsuspecting prey, and for some reason, it gave him great satisfaction to know all of her suitors up to that point had come to a rather sticky end.

"Darling, let me explain something to you—" Astarion began to say as he walked towards her, but he was interrupted by the lousy notes of a poorly strummed lute. The terrible sound of it made him visibly cringe.

"My lady — oh, fair lady —" The voice outside began to sing out of tune.

"Oh no..." Tav whined. "Just, throw something down the window of the tower for him, will you? I really am not in the right state to deal with this right now..."

"Sure, how about that priceless pianoforte in your music room?" Astarion snickered. "I bet that will keep him quiet. For good."

"No! I do not want you to flatten the poor man with my piano!... just... let's just try to ignore it..." Tav searched through a pile of books next to her bed, deciding to attempt reading as a distraction.

"Oh lady, lady of the tower-

Why, oh why would you leave me so... sour?"

"Oh sweet hells, is this guy actually serious?" Astarion cursed and shook his head, marching over to open the window and peek his head out. The knight was unsurprisingly taken back by seeing him instead of Tav.

"I say, are you incapable of taking a hint?" Astarion shouted down at him. The man was gobsmacked, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "The lady of the tower is rather indisposed at this moment..." He said languidly, purposely making the man draw the wrong conclusions. "In fact, she is completely bedridden... if you catch my meaning... I do apologize as it is completely my fault..."

Okay, so maybe he was laying it on a bit too thick. But it wasn't as if Astarion was jealous or anything. He just enjoyed messing with people. It was one of life's little pleasures.

"Now get lost, the last thing you want is to get caught out there after dark..." Astarion gave him one last warning before closing the windows shut.

"You didn't have to be so mean to him, you know?" Tav said as Astarion turned back to face her.

He took in the state he'd left her in and hated the fact he was sprouting a sense of empathy at an incredibly inconvenient time for him. Tav had done so much for him, and he'd yet to hear her screaming at him for taking a chunk out of her without permission.

Astarion didn't want to say goodbye. He decided then and there he was going to leave as soon as Tav fell back to sleep, which in her condition was probably going to be soon. All he needed to do was speed the process along.

He picked up the first book he could find on her drawing desk and sat down in a chair next to her bed.

Astarion looked at the title on the cover and tried his best not to roll his eyes. Tristan and Iseult. Of course, he had to go and pick a love story.

"You really don't have to read to me just because you feel bad-" Tav began to say, but Astarion cut her off.

"Excuse me, I'll have you know I am a very prolific reader, and you, my dear, seem to have a lack of understanding when it comes to courtship so this will be... an informative way to pass the time." He said, and swallowed thickly, already dreading the experience.

"How so?" Tav asked, blinking up at him curiously.

"Because-" Astarion huffed, already feeling uncomfortable in his chair. "This-" he said, wagging the book up in the air. "Is one of greatest love stories of all time and maybe you'll be... more aware of what's going on the next time some fool comes singing underneath your window..."

Tav raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, but asked no further questions. Astarion cleared his throat and began the reading. He was surprised to find the story was a lot less boring than he'd remembered, clearly catching on to the fact it was an unofficial re-telling of some sorts, due to new characters and extra encounters he'd never known from the original version.

Unfortunately, Tav was very interested too, hanging off his every word. She didn't seem like she was about to fall asleep any time soon. Astarion did his best to counteract this by letting his voice drone on in a deep soothing tone, yet his eyes almost jumped out of his skull when the tender love story took a very unexpected turn.

"Tristan watched as his fair love drank down the potion so hastily, the liquid spilled down her perfect neck and between the curves of her---" Astarion coughed nervously and turned the page, hoping Tav wouldn't notice as he skipped to the following passage. "Both drunk on the intense effects of the love potion, with trembling hands they reached for----- t-their, um, thriving bodies---"

"Hey! You skipped a section!" Tav protested.

"No, I didn't!" Astarion huffed back, pressing a hand to his forehead. How in the hells had he ended up recanting some bard's published smut-fic, he would never know.

"Let me see that..." Tav snatched the book from his hands and it was all Astarion could do as he jumped on her bed like a cat to get it back.

---

tag list (if you want to be added to the tag list, just let me know!): @d0nutkaky0in @i-just-want-to-sleep-97 @omggiannarosa @dead-giirl-walking @warbwarts @mrsfullbuster500 @uwomina @iyaesakura @cheeslyy @dragon-kazansky @bambamwolf87 @chibi-chi @orsomethingelseentirely @davenswitcher @adequate-superstar @ophelias-flowerss @tragedybunny @yaimlight @the-golden-ouroboros @candyladycry @babygirlbrainrot @mariposakitten @blobs-away @biganddrunkunicorn @astarionmisc @the-garbage-central @raviolixxx @banana-beans-police @screechingphantommaker @sunnanse @faefanatic @in-the-bleak-midwinters

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion angst #astarion fic #astarion fluff #astarion smut #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x y/n #bg3 x you #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x f!reader #astarion x afab!reader

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aces-personal-whore · 4 months ago

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Doflamingo x Defiant!Reader Smut Ch. 1

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5]

Hello, friends! Welcome to my new Doffy fanfic! This story takes a bit of a different direction from my last fanfiction. Instead of being subordinate, you are resistant and defiant towards Doffy. Reader is AFAB. Second person POV for this story! Doflamingo is very assertive and holds true to his personality (the cocky asshole we all love). A lot of fanfics I've read don't really tap into his true personality and make him incredibly out of character or in an alternate universe type thing where he falls for the reader, so I'm here to write about Doffy and what he would realistically do in the situations I've put him in. Reader is assumed to be the same age as myself (26), but age is never mentioned.

☣️WARNINGS: NONCON/RAPE, NSFW, MDNI, smut, assault, sexual assault

Themes in this chapter: NONCON/RAPE, Aggressive domination, forced submission, forced creampie, breeding, inflation, mild BDSM, degradation

Notes: PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT THERE IS NONCON/RAPE THROUGHOUT THIS ENTIRE FANFICTION. THIS FANFICTION IS VERY GRAPHIC AND MAY BE TRIGGERING, UPSETTING, OR DISTRESSING TO SOME READERS. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!!

P.S. I'm sorry if I forgot to change any pronouns/names/etc. ;-; I did my best, okay.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[Chapter 1]

You had a few errands to run today. You threw on your favourite dress, grabbed your bag, and headed out the door. Dressrosa was a very lovely place, and you enjoyed living there. Your mom brought you guys here a few years ago, and you moved out on your own only last year. You checked your list of things you needed to do for the day: get groceries, get pet food, and check out the new local game store. You began walking to the fresh produce stands in downtown Dressrosa when you felt something like a pinch on the back of your neck, like a mosquito had bit me or something. You brought your hand up to where you felt the pinch to swat away the mosquito, when your body suddenly started moving on its own. You began heading towards the flower hill where the palace is. You tried resisting your body's involuntary movements, panicking, but no matter how much you tried resisting, your body continued forwards towards the castle. "What the fuck is happening?! Why can't I control my body?!" You thought to yourself, your anxiety rising.

From the shadows, Doflamingo had been watching you, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He had been watching you for a while, and decided you were the perfect victim. He headed back towards his castle, stringing you along. He stopped at the entrance of his palace overlooking the flower hill as you forcefully approached him.

"Fufufufu~ my, my aren't you just lovely?" Doflamingo flashed his signature smile with his devious laugh, turning around to face you.

You fight the parasite strings Doflamingo had embedded in you, attempting to run away. "What the fuck is going on?! What am I doing here?!" There was a lace of panic in your voice.

"Oh, don't be so jumpy, my dear. I simply find you irresistible, and I want to claim you as mine." Doflamingo casually stated as he watched you struggle.

"Your (h/c) hair, that shade of (e/c) in your eyes, the freckles decorating your skin [a/n: sorry if you don't have freckles ;-;], and that perfect body... You're the most attractive woman I've ever laid my eyes on."

He approached you, making sure to be close enough for you to feel his presence, but not so close that you could feel his breath on your face.

"I have this feeling that you'll make a delightful addition to my collection. So, I'm afraid you'll have to come with me." Doflamingo's smirk deepened, and he gave the strings a light tug, causing you to stumble a bit. "I'm just dying to see if my intuition was right... You're going to be my little project, my most precious and prized possession."

You scowled at Doflamingo as you're brought inside the palace against your will. "Project?! Possession?!"

"That's right, my dear. I can sense your resistance, and that only turns me on more. I want to see you squirm under my control." Doflamingo's grin never faltered as he continued to lead you into his palace. "Now, don't make this more difficult than it needs to be. You're already mine, and I shall have my way with you." He chuckled, throwing a glance back at you from time to time, making sure to bask in the sight of your struggle.

You struggled to keep up with Doflamingo and his impressive 10 foot tall stature. You had to practically run to keep up with him. "Like hell I would let you do that shit to me!"

"You're perfect for the role I have in mind, and I'll be sure to reward you for your cooperation." Doflamingo pulled the strings with more force, forcing you to move faster, showing no mercy in dragging you to your new home.

"I'm not doing shit. Fuck you," you spat at Doflamingo, slightly panting from the running.

"Oh, how delightful. You're such a lively specimen, and I can't wait to see what you're truly capable of. You'll be my pet, my little plaything, and I'll make sure to see every single inch of you. You'll come to enjoy it, I assure you. The humiliation, the pain, and the pleasure will all be yours. I'll break you down and build you back up into the perfect host for my offspring." Doflamingo's eyes gleamed with excitement, his voice dripping with malice and lust as he spoke. "And when that day comes, you'll thank me for choosing you."

Doflamingo's words metaphorically made you stop in your tracks, since you had no control over your body. You tried digging your heels in the ground to slow your movements down. Your face was filled with anger and disgust as he spoke. "What the fuck?!" He was treating you like a fucking object.

"Ah, such a feisty one. I'm going to enjoy breaking your spirit and making you mine." Doflamingo manipulated your parasite string, yanking you off your feet and continuing to walk with you dangling in the air. "I've made up my mind, and I'll have what I want. You'll be my precious little project, my own personal pleasure, and I'll mold you into the woman I desire." Doflamingo's smirk never faltered as he continued his stroll through the palace, dragging you behind him. "Your opinion on the matter is irrelevant."

You scoffed at his remarks and scowled at him as you're brought to his personal room, being drug through the air via his strings.

"Here we are, my dear. Your new home." Doflamingo stopped in front of a grand, ornate door, opening it to reveal a lavish room filled with all the luxuries one could imagine. "You'll be pampered, cherished, and cared for like a queen. Of course, I'll have to break you first, but that's just a small price to pay for such bliss, isn't it?"

He dragged you inside, the strings making sure you were right where he wanted you to be. Once you were in the center of the room, he released the strings, letting you fall to the ground with a thud. You stood up, adjusting your dress.

"Now, let's see how you can be shaped into my perfect little prize." Doflamingo's eyes gleamed, and he began to formulate his plans for your transformation. "As I said, I'll reward your cooperation, and I expect you to be a good girl for me. You wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you?"

You crossed your arms across your chest, continuing to scowl at him. "Yeah, that's not going to happen," you said with slight annoyance and anger in your voice.

"You're going to make this so much fun." Doflamingo's lips curled into a wicked smile as he approached you, his eyes filled with a predatory gleam. "I'll break you, and I'll make you mine. You'll come to see that there's no escape. I am your new master, and you are my new pet. Now, don't make me regret this decision by being a naughty little thing. Cooperate, and I'll give you everything you could ever want."

He stood above you, his hand reaching down for your arm as he prepared to lead you to your first lesson in submission.

You smacked his arm away "Don't fucking touch me!" You glared at him. This only prompted him to be more aggressive with you.

"Ah, you're even more perfect than I imagined." Doflamingo's eyes roamed over your body as he deftly removed your clothes. He admired your body, his eyes lingering on your breasts, your curvy hips, and your round ass, before he finally let his hands explore your skin. "I can't wait to see how you'll look with my child growing inside you, bearing my legacy in the world." Doflamingo's voice had a lustful edge to it as he continued to undress you, leaving you completely exposed before him. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as his hot breath sent shivers down your spine. "We're going to have so much fun."

"STOP... FUCKING... TOUCHING ME!!" you snapped at him, getting angrier by the second. Your anger and defiance continued to only add fuel to the fire.

"Oh, you little slut. You're mine, and I'll do whatever the fuck I want with you. You don't have a say in any of this, so you better get used to it." He pushed you against the wall, pinning you down with his body.

"Now, you listen to me, you miserable cunt. I'm going to turn you into the perfect little breeding bitch. You'll carry my children and worship the ground I walk on." He leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispered in your ear. "And if you don't comply, I'll make you regret the day I took pity on you."

Doflamingo's hand traveled down your body, cupping your breast roughly as he squeezed it, and then moved lower, rubbing your clit. He then thrust a finger into your cunt, still teasing your clit, his other hand holding you in place against the wall. "Now, are we clear on this?" His voice was a dangerous mix of desire and threat, his finger continuing to tease you, the other hand gripping your arm tightly, leaving red marks as he held you.

You winced and panted at Doflamingo's sudden aggression. You looked into your reflection in his sunglasses, and what you saw was yourself glaring at him. "Doflamingo... fucking... STOP." You brought your leg and foot up, placing it on his arm as you attempted to push his hand away from your pussy, kicking at his arm.

"Oh, did you just defy me, you little bitch?" Doflamingo's grip tightened on your arm in response, causing you to yelp in pain. "Now, you listen to me. You don't get to make any decisions here. I decide what happens to you, and you will follow my orders. If you keep pushing me, I'll show you what happens to disobedient slaves." Doflamingo's breathing became heavier, and his touch more insistent, ignoring your attempts to push him away.

"Slave?! I'm not your fucking slave! Stop doing this to me!" Rage was building inside you as he continued to violate your body against your will.

"You're my property, my little breeding bitch. I'll do with you what I please, and you'll submit to my every whim." He continued to tease you, his other hand not letting up on your arm, disregarding your kicks. "You're mine, and I'll break you until you understand your place. You'll learn to love me, to crave my touch, and to worship the ground I walk on."

His grip on your arm left bruises as he maneuvered you to the bed, pushing you down before positioning himself between your legs. "Now, you'll listen to me, and you'll accept your fate as my property. You're mine, and you'll do as you're told." Doflamingo's voice was laced with a mix of desire and menace. "Now, are we clear on this?" His grip on your arm didn't loosen, and his finger returned to your pussy. "You're my breeding bitch now, and you'll serve me to the best of your ability. I will not accept anything less."

Your feet now pressed into his elbow dips in attempt to push him away from the assault he's doing to your body. "Eat shit! I'm not doing anything for you!" Your voice was seething with rage and anger now.

"You really are a stubborn one, aren't you?" Doflamingo let out a sigh. "Fine, if that's how it's going to be." He removed his finger from you, standing up, and then undoing the strings on his pink tiger striped pants. "I'll show you what it's like to be mine, whether you like it or not."

Doflamingo's cock was hard and ready as he moved forward, his eyes locked on yours as he guided it to your entrance. It was much, much bigger than any other cock you've seen "Brace yourself, my dear. This is only the beginning." He began to push inside you.

"GET OFF OF ME!!" Tears began forming in your eyes as you struggled against his advances, trying to push yourself away from him and to get him to not fuck you. "DO NOT PUT THAT INSIDE ME!!" You began panicking as his cock stretched your pussy impossibly wide, causing it to tear and bleed.

"Ah, so feisty. I like that." Doflamingo's grip moved your legs as he forced them apart, tying them down with his devil fruit strings. "You feel so tight, so good. I knew I made the right choice in picking you." He thrust deeper into you, a groan escaping his lips. "Your cunt is unlike any other I've had before. It's perfect." Doflamingo's voice was laced with lust as he began to move faster. "I'm going to fuck this perfect pussy as much as I want, whenever I want. Whether you like it or not."

You groaned in discomfort, tears falling down your cheeks. You panted heavily in exhaustion from struggling against Doflamingo's advances. There was no way you could break free from his strings. They were practically unbreakable.

"There's no use fighting it, my dear. You're mine, and there's no escaping me." Doflamingo's voice was calm and composed, despite the intense pleasure he was deriving from your body.

"Look at you, all flushed and panting. You might hate me now, but you'll soon learn to love this. Your body was made for mine. It's a match made in heaven." Doflamingo's thrusts became slower, more deliberate, as he savoured the feeling of your tightness around him. "Fuck, you feel so good, so perfect. I could fuck you for hours and never get enough." He reached down, his hand cupping your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple.

Your body was overflowing with various emotions... You didn't know how to feel. Violated, angry, enraged, unheard... However, despite your anger and hatred, your body responded to his advances. Blood began flowing to your sex organs, involuntarily becoming aroused to accommodate the onslaught of Doflamingo's assault, providing lubrication to ease the pain, in addition to his precum coating your walls. Tears ran down your cheeks as he continued his assault.

"I can see how your body is reacting. It's begging for my seed, isn't it?" Doflamingo's voice was soft and seductive, his grip on your hips never faltering as he continued to toy with you. "Soon you'll be begging for more, to feel my seed inside you."

His thrusts became erratic, his pace growing more intense as he chased his own climax. Doflamingo's teeth were gritted, his eyes locked on yours as he continued to fuck you, the changes in your body only fueling his desire to make you submit to him completely.

"Ah, a new angle might help you reach that orgasm you're so desperately resisting." Doflamingo undid the strings around your legs and pulled out, before pushing you onto all fours, your face pressed into the mattress. He wrapped new strings around your shoulders, securing you in place as you remained face down, your ass in the air.

Doflamingo's thumbs spread your labia, admiring his prize. "Such a tight, wet little cunt. And it's all mine" Doflamingo's cock was eager to enter you again as he lined himself up with your entrance. He began to thrust into you from behind, his pace slow and deliberate, savouring the feeling of your tightness around him once more.

"You feel so good, so perfect. I'm going to fuck you until you submit to me completely." Doflamingo's voice was a mix of lust and dominance as he continued to take his pleasure from your body. His thrusts grew more intense, his grip moving to your hips, never faltering as he continued to fuck you, determined to make you submit to the pleasure he was giving you. "Give in, my dear. You know you want to."

"I refuse!" Doflamingo was really trying to take your orgasm by force. "I'll never give in to you!"

Doflamingo thrusted all the way inside you, holding his position there for a moment, his hands grabbing and groping your ass, eliciting a moan from him. "You feel so good, so perfect. I've never had a pussy this tight before." He began to slowly thrust in and out of you, his hands continuing to grope your ass. Doflamingo's voice was filled with lust and dominance as he continued to take his pleasure from your body, unwilling to let go of you until he made you submit to the pleasure he was giving you.

Doflamingo squeezed your legs and ass cheeks together, his moan echoing in the room as he felt how tight you were around him. "Oh, so fucking tight. I'm going to enjoy this." He pressed your lower body forward, forcing your back to arch, giving him even more access to your tightness.

As Doflamingo's thrusts became more intense, your breath was essentially being knocked out of you with each thrust. You gripped the sheets beneath you.

"I'm going to fuck your perfect cunt as much as I want, and I'm going to cum inside you every single time. It doesn't matter how you feel, what you say, or how you resist. You belong to me, and I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want with you." Doflamingo's voice was filled with dominance and lust as he continued to thrust into you, his pace growing more erratic as he neared his own climax. "Your purpose is to get fucked by me, to carry my lineage. And I'm going to make sure I cum inside you as much as possible to ensure you get pregnant."

"Fuck, I'm going to cum inside your perfect cunt, whether you like it or not!" Doflamingo's voice was filled with lust and dominance as he thrust as deep as he could, his glans lodged in your cervix.

"NO-!! STOP!! DOFLAMINGO STOP!" You fought with all of your might to get away and prevent him from cumming inside you.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going? Like I'd let you escape my pleasure!" He gripped on your shoulders and he forced you back onto his cock. Doflamingo's body began to convulse as he came, his testicles drawing up and tightening, pulsing against your clit with each throb of his cock, pouring massive amounts of his semen into your uterus. You felt yourself fill with his seed, a visible swelling in your lower abdomen as he successfully mated with you.

"Oh, fuck, look at you swell with my seed. It's so goddamn hot." Doflamingo possessively wrapped his hands around your stomach, caressing it as he felt it continue to swell, further prolonging his orgasm, driving him to ejaculate even more inside you.

The sight that unfolded was of Doflamingo's thick cock buried deep inside your tight pussy. Your stomach swelled visibly with the amount of cum he had filled you with, the white fluid leaking out of the corners of your stretched lips, evidence of his claim on you.

His hands cradled your stomach, his fingers splayed over the growing mound as he continued to pump his seed into you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he desperately tried to fill you with as much of his essence as possible.

"I love watching your stomach swell with my seed, knowing that it's going to grow my offspring. You're mine, and I'm going to make sure you never forget that." His voice was filled with lust, dominance, and possession as he continued to cum inside you, his grip on your body never faltering as he reveled in the sight of his seed claiming your body as his own.

You continued to grip the sheets beneath you to try and crawl away with the little amount of energy you had left, but the deed had been done. You couldn't escape Doflamingo's grasp or his onslaught of assault. Tears were flowing down your cheeks as reality continued to set in.

Doflamingo's grip on you remained firm as he dislodged his glans from your cervix. His hand traced patterns along your now swollen abdomen, using his devil fruit strings to seal your cervix, sealing his seed inside you, ensuring none would leak out.

"Don't worry, your body will take care of the rest. I've done my part, and now it's up to nature to do its work." Doflamingo's eyes met yours, his gaze filled with a mix of lust, dominance, and satisfaction as he continued to caress your swollen stomach, reveling in the fact that he had successfully mated with you and claimed your body as his own.

"You'll get used to it, and in time, you'll thank me for giving you the opportunity to host my offspring." His grip on you never faltered as he continued to take in the feeling of his seed swelling your stomach, his fingers gently splayed over the mound, as if he were cradling the most precious treasure in the world.

"For now, rest, my dear. You've been through a lot, and you'll need your strength for what's to come." Doflamingo's voice was soft, but there was no doubt about the dominance and ownership in his tone as he continued to revel in his conquest, his possession of you complete.

"You're mine now, whether you want it or not." Doflamingo's words echoed in your mind as he pulled out, removed his strings from your body, and put his clothes back on.

He left the room, leaving you alone, your mind reeling from what had just happened. The thought of being raped crossed your mind, and you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of violation.

You collapsed onto the bed, your body shaking with a mixture of emotions, from shock to grief. After regaining your strength, you got up, your movements slow and heavy, as if you were walking through molasses.

You approached the mirror, your hands automatically moving to your stomach as you took in your reflection. The swollen abdomen was a stark reminder of what had happened, and your face crumpled as you put your hands to your face, tears flowing unabated.

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on your heart, and all you could do was cry, the tears a physical manifestation of the turmoil you felt inside. Doflamingo's claim on you was absolute, and for the first time in your life, you were completely at the mercy of another.

#dofamingo #one piece #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote family #doffy #doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x reader smut #fem reader #one piece smut #x reader #doflamingo smut #smut

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iamnot-crazy · 11 months ago

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Stowaway Chapter 11

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Summary:

The reader is a slave to a nobleman due to her devil's fruit ability which allows her to control the emotions of the people around her. She flees to bump into Trafalgar Law and boards his ship.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

A/N: Same topics as the previous chapter but if I were to title this Chapter I would call it Robin's and Sanji's therapy session.

---

As you sit in your thoughts a new figure joins. Sanji announced his presence by offering tea to the two beautiful ladies. Robin smiled taking the cup off the tray and grabbing the other to hand to you. You curl out of your ball and nervously take the cup.

Sanji lowers himself opposite to you and Robin leaning on the railing. You sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of the impending interrogation. You didn't try to leave this time excepting your faith. Sanji pulled out his cigarette blowing out a puff of smoke, "So how are you doing now?" He asked with concern laced in his voice.

"Why are you two so concerned for me?" You finally asked as you watched the two exchange glances.

Sanji sighed, "Let's just say we both can't help but feel a tinge of familiarity." seeing him act so seriously in front of women was unusual but something about this topic brought out a rarely seen side of him.

You look down at the warm tea in front of you understanding his words. "I don't want to die… At least I don't think I do." you spoke, "I don't know what came over me. I just want to protect what I do have now."

"Regaining all your memories at once is probably not helping," Robin stated, "You have a lot to sort through."

You nod in agreeance, "Why don't you tell us what you remember to sort it out." Sanji spoke up.

You sigh, "I never lost my memories of my time before the heart pirates. My mother's death… then being sold by my stepmother into the cruel world of the auction… the time with my first master. I was forced to forget escaping and running into Law and the warmth I found with Law and the Heart Pirates. Their acceptance, their love… it helped me heal, piece by shattered piece. I miss them." You pause as you think about your crew.

"My escaped gnawed at my master, his possessiveness refusing to let me go. He eventually tracked me down connecting me with the Heart Pirates. When I revealed to Law that my master was connected to Doflamingo he was covered with fear. Law never spoke of his past with Doflamingo just that he had one and my powers told me that he was filled with an unspoken terror. To protect Law from facing the man before he was ready, I fled to Amazon Lily, the island where we took your captain after Marineford."

"Amazon Lily?!" Sanji growled, "That bastard was on the Amazon Lily!" His glare shoots towards his captain full of jealousy and envy.

"Sanji," Robin warned causing the chef to refocus on your story.

You continued your story as your mind flashed to your capture.

---

Panic pulsed through the air as the island buzzed with desperate energy and Amazonian warriors prepared for battle. A rumor that a foreign ship has been spotted outside the island struck your attention. You wanted to run toward the forming battlefield but the pirate empress herself stopped you, "No," She commanded, "Go to your room. I have a bad feeling about this battle."

You disappeared to your room as told before the foreigners forced their way onto the island. You listen closely as the foreigners force their way into the throne room of the palace where Hancock waited.

"Hello, Hancock!" The intruder greeted.

"Men are not allowed on my island Doflamingo," Hancock spoke aggressively.

"Oh, Hancock let's skip that part and make a deal warlord to warlord," Doflamingo spoke sending chills down your spine. Hancock did not give the man a response that you can sense had upset him. "I know that after the battle of Marine Fort, you aided and harbored a particular pirate a Monkey. D Luffy"

You sensed Hancock's stress grow at the mention of Luffy's name but knowing her she is hiding it well. "I don't know what you are referring to."

The man laughed, "I personally don't care about your reasoning but I think the government might. No, what I care about is the fact that Trafalgar Law was with the straw hat pirate at the time."

Your heart dropped at the mention of Law's name.

"I learned that a crew member of his has taken refuge here."

"Get off my island Doflamingo!" Hancock shouted standing her ground.

"Ah, so she is here." Doflamingo laughed, "I'll make a deal with you. I will keep your secret from the Marines if you give me the girl."

Boa did not respond and instead, you start hearing the start of a fight. You sense 5 other people enter the palace. You begin to hear the starting of a battle as the Amazons fend off the intruders. As you focus on the intruders with your Haki you almost miss your door slamming open revealing Marguerite. "Y/N we need to get you out of here!" She shouted and you nodded.

Unfortunately, her shout drew the attention of one of the intruders you sense the intruder's path changing to your room and you pull Marguerite to the ground before a cannon is shot through the door, flying over your head and destroying the wall to the outside.

You turn around to see a young woman with long black hair and a cannon for an arm. You jumped up and pulled Marguerite out of the new hole in the wall. Instead of falling down to the ground with Marguerite, you cling to the wall. "What are you doing?" She hissed from the ground behind a bush.

"keep running I'll be there in a second." You hissed back and she nodded running off making the bushes shift. The woman who attacked you walked up to the hole watching the Amazon run away. She holds her arm out to aim and you take your chance. You grabbed onto her arm and forced her to feel an intense fear. She screams and holds her head seemingly going through a mental break.

You jumped off the wall and to the ground to catch up with Marguerite. The two of you took off through the forest a more familiar land for you to hide and defend. You met up with a few more Amazons who were ready to help defend you from the intruders.

You all took to the trees shooting down any intruder with Haki-filled arrows. You also got the opportunity to use your new use for your power by coating your arrows with a mist of emotions that will cause your targets to fall to whichever emotion you filled them with. You all held your own quite well not allowing any intruders to make it far into the forest or to leave to inform their leaders of your location.

A loud boom echoed through the forest changing the tides of your fight. Above you, strings began to stretch down surrounding the island. Arrows made of string began to fall from the sky striking down the Amazons that surrounded you. They fell from the trees when they were hit and you rushed to the ground after them.

As you tended to one of the Amazon Marguerite came up behind you aiming her arrow at you. Her scream gave you enough time to dodge her attack rolling to the side. You looked at the haki-filled arrow nailed deep into the ground where you once were.

"Marguerite what's happening?!" You shout at her as she starts to cry while aiming another arrow at you.

"Get out of here!" She shouted as you shuffled to your feet you felt her fear and knew you needed to follow her words. Before you got a chance to run a hand wrapped around your ankle. You looked down to see the Amazon you were just tending to hold you in place.

The feeling of fear and confusion filled the air as all the Amazons started to stand up. They all drew their bows at you. They all shouted at you to run away before firing at you.

You shook off the hand on your ankle before you ran. Arrows flew past you not in the way that has when training but with aggression and thirst for blood.

You sent a mist of red fear in an attempt to steer the amazons away but when they ran through the mist they never stopped their chase but now showed more fear on their faces. You freeze in confusion as you watch the people you considered family for the past 8 months run at you with tears in their eyes.

In a moment of realization, you create a mist of calmness for the Amazons to run through. Their tears dried up and they looked at you in confusion as you stood in front of them no longer running from them.

You were immediately tackled to the ground and the snakes the Amazons held and boes turned into bondage. "Y/N! Why!" Marguerite cried running up behind the other Amazons not running through the mist you used to calm the other Amazons.

"I can't fight you." You sob on the ground, "You all helped me so much and I don't want you to feel guilty that something is forcing you to do this."

Marguerite cried as she was forced to punch you to knock you out.

When you woke up you were being dragged through the door of the palace with blood dripping down your chin. Marguerite was the one leading the way as the Amazons brought their prize to the Doflamingo all with stone-calmed faces except for Marguerite who had tears still falling down her face.

A chilling laugh echoed through the room as Doflamingo sprawled himself on Hancock's throne, her unconscious form lying beside him like a discarded doll. You scowl at the man when you are pushed to his feet. He reached down grabbed you by your neck and pulled you toward his face, "All of this fighting just for you." He spat in your face, "Pathetic."

You gather the blood in your mouth and spit it into his face. a vein throbbed on his forehead but he simply wiped the blood off his face with his hand and licked it off. "Oh, I will enjoy breaking you." He threw you off to the side.

He lifted his hand up and all the amazons fell uncautious being released from his control. The woman who attacked you earlier approached you holding chains which she placed on you removing the snake that was bounding you. As soon as the chains were placed on your hands you knew they were Sea Stone as you felt your energy sapping.

The man approached you grabbing you by the neck again pulling you off the floor. His eyes dart to your hip and you feel uncomfortable for the first time in the revealing outfits of the Amazon. He smiled seeing your tattoo that represented your freedom and place within the heart pirates but now felt like a target. "I see Law has placed his mark on you." he taunted.

He continued to hold you by your neck but lowered you to his ground as he dragged you out of the palace.

---

tears streamed down your face as you recalled the attack on Amazon Lily and your capture to Sanji and Robin, "At that point, I felt like I was just destined to be a tool."

Your sentence hit a cord with Sanji and Robin now understand why they both feel so similar to you.

The two waited patiently for you to continue your story. "He brought me back to Dressrosa and locked me in a cellar deep within the castle. The hardest part was when my old Master came to visit."

---

You sat in the cold cellar chained to the wall by a Sea Stone chain that locked to your neck; a full plate of food that you refused to touch hoping that at the very least you could starve yourself to death. The door creaked open and you looked up to see the figure of your old Master and his friend who had found you in a town and was your past abuser.

Fear grew within you as they approached you knowing you were stuck. You pushed yourself as far as you could into the wall in an attempt to create as much space between you as you could. Your master walked up to you with pretend worry in his eyes as he gently rubbed your cheek which was still swollen.

"What did they do to you." He complained as his eyes and fingers wandered over your figure still wearing the revealing clothing of the Amazons. When his eyes landed on your hip where his mark once sat now replaced with a heart tattoo. "What the hell is this!" He grabbed the skin of your hip causing you to yipe. He growled as he grabbed onto your cheeks, "You have no idea how kind I have been! I didn't destroy your body with a banding as everyone insisted instead I gave you a beautiful tattoo and this is what you do!" He tossed you to the side. You spit the dirt out of your mouth as you sit back up only to be kicked back down.

Your old master spits on you before whispering to his friend and leaving the room. His friend stepped forward punching his fist into his hand seeking his revenge for what Law had done to him. You noticed some features on his face were still not in the right place, his eyebrows were switched, and his thumbs were backward he looked like a Picasso piece. You couldn't help but snicker at the sight.

Smack…

You were kicked back into the wall as a punishment for your snicker.

---

Your voice cracked as you told your story and Robin pulled your head gently onto her shoulder for comfort. You sniffed away your tears, "Doflamingo would then come in and nurse me to health, he would tell me a story about how he could save me from my abusive master all I had to do was become a part of his family. At the same time, he was doing something to my memories." You instinctively rubbed the back of your neck where the strings were pulled out of your brain.

"After a week I agreed and I was made into the perfect servant for him." You hold your head blocking the expressions of the two pirates as you tear up. "One day he told me I was going on an important mission, to spy on Law."

You pull out the Vivre card that you kept in your pocket with the transponder snail you were too afraid to toss "He gave me a snail and told me he made me a Vivre card so he can come in a rescue me after my mission. and then… he gave me… his vivre card." You froze staring at the card. You thought it was a piece of your own card to give to Ceaser but it wasn't it was his card.

Sanji reached out for the piece of paper. "So this card is pointing to Doflamingo." He investigated it laying it flat on his palm and watching it point behind them.

Robin's concern deepened. "That might be helpful," she said, her voice laced with urgency. "Let's go tell the rest."

As you walk down the stairs with Robin, Law jumps up with concern upon seeing your face and runs up to you. You wipe your tears and grab his hand, "Law" your voice cracked, "I have some important information."

You pull out the snail and the Vivre card which sends Usopp and Nami into a panic as you tell Law that the snail is how you have been communicating with Flamingo and how he had made a Vivre card for you. You then tell him how this Vivre card isn't a piece of yours like you thought. It was his.

Law takes the card and looks at it carefully as it points in the direction of punk Hazard the island they just left. Law looks up to the skies and sighs with relief, "The skies are clear so he can't follow us. We should be careful from now on keeping y/n away from anything we don't him to find."

Your face turns to guilt which Luffy caught onto. "Don't worry, Y/N," His voice cutting through the tension, "by the end of tomorrow, he'll have no control over you." His words offered a sliver of hope, a promise that chased away some of the shadows clinging to your heart.

Sanji then announced himself in front of the kitchen door where he disappeared to, "Dinner is up!" The crew jumped up in excitement running to the kitchen. After the crew dispersed, you lingered behind with Law, your heart pounding in your chest.

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his warmth offering a comforting haven. Tears streamed down your face as you confessed, "I'm so sorry." Your voice trembled, filled with guilt and regret. "I should have told you sooner."

Law held you close, his touch calming the storm within you. You pulled back, your eyes searching his. "I tried to kill myself last night," you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I didn't want him to find us. I didn't want to ruin your plans any more than I already have…" Your voice broke, the pain threatening to consume you.

"I… I didn't want to be the reason you die," you choked out, burying your face in his chest. "The whole reason Doflamingo captured me, manipulated me, was to get to you. And I… I don't want that to happen. I… I love you."

Silence descended, thick and heavy. Then, Law gently lifted your chin, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes, usually stoic and unreadable, held a depth of emotion you had never seen before.

Law wiped away your tears and placed his forehead onto yours, "I know," he said simply.

---

A/N: Wanna read more of my work check out my MasterList

#one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #fem!reader #writing #one piece oc #trafalgar one piece #one peice #trafalgar op #one piece nico robin #straw hat pirates #strawhats #one piece sanji

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passionateseadruid · 4 months ago

Text

Snake Kings Bride 11

notes: Unfortunately this will be my last chapter for a while... I need to restructure the story, figure out some personal matters, and focus on College and my dreams. I will however be posting a new mini series. Chapters will be longer and release monthly and I should be back to this in a month or two.

You felt bad for your new baby Fenrir. You and Lucifer adopted him and brought him home just yesterday and Lucifer is already being possessive over you two. He placed a strict order over the entire palace. All doors and windows were to be locked, all curtains were to be drawn. No one was allowed to leave the building much less look outside. So it was just the seven of you here today. You, Fenrir, Renesmee, Nina, Styx, Pluto, …and Lucifer.

Lucifer had been acting weird since last night when he placed the order. He promised that it would only be for today. Before he locked himself in his room.

And stayed there surprisingly… no breakfast in bed, no snuggling up to you in your sleep, no watching you from the corner of the room or from beside the bed… he was actually giving you space?

Sweet!

You hoped out of bed and got showered and dressed for the day. You may not be able to take Fenrir out with you today but that certainly doesn’t mean you can’t make his first day memorable. You dressed up an a maroon turtleneck, black leggings, and some fuzzy socks, going for a full wine-mom/soccer-mom vibe.

“It’s so weird that I’m a mom now!” You excitedly tell Nina as she escorts you to Fenrir’s new room. For some reason, last night Lucifer insisted that Nina stay posted by your side at all times today. Nina looked different today, wearing a black double breasted mundir jacket and fitted pants.

“I’m sure Hell is buzzing at the news of a new prince joining the royal family.”

“Him and I are going to have the best day ever!” You had no idea what the future held. Would you even be able to escape Hell? Could you take Fenrir with you if you can? What will happen to him if you can’t? Would you be willing to stay in Hell for him? How are the rest of the staff going to react to his presence?

“Mommy!” The young hell hound smiled and ran to you as you entered his room. Renesmee has just finished buttoning up his vest as she young pup came running to you. He was a bit plump for someone who was in a rough system like the hellhound adoption center. His fur was as white as snow, much like one would expect from a Samoyed puppy. A gray cotton vest, light blue shirt, and black pants. Renesmee wore a gray shirt and black plaid dress.

“Hello my sweet darling!” You pick him up. “Look at you! From pauper to prince!”

He giggled and hugged you. “Thank you for the new clothes mommy!”

“Of course sweetie! You’re so polite! What would you like to eat for breakfast today?” You walked toward the kitchen with him in your arms.

“Bacon and eggs!” He cheered.

You two walked into the kitchen and Pluto was glaring at you two. She wore a simple black dress that went down to her knees with a v neck cut, the sleeves were frilly and went to her elbows, and to tie it all off there was a red fabric belt nestled right under her chest. You set him down at the kitchen Island, gave a small friendly wave to Pluto, and set up some music you could listen to while you cook. The song-Baby I Love You by Random Encounters-ramped up slowly as you pulled out the carton of eggs and pack of bacon from the fridge and the frying pan from the lower cabinet. You swayed back and forth as you cooked. Not noticing that your new tot was being escorted into the parlor by Pluto as Nina watched and shrugged it off.

After about ten minutes you finally finished making the food and were ready to serve him when you saw that he wasn't there anymore. "Oh no." You started to panic. you set the food down and started to run through the various halls and rooms of the palace as Nina was hot on your tail. "Fenrir? Fenrir?! Come out sweetie!"

"Oh you're looking for the boy? He's in the parlor with Pluto." Nina finally informed you.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" You both ran to the parlor.

"You didn't ask me sooner. I'm a succubus, not a mind reader." She said nonchalantly, not out of breath or breaking a sweat at all.

The two rushed in to the parlor to see him transforming into a human form. His human form was again small and round, but instead of white matted fur he has short messy platinum hair, and instead of red eyes and white irises he has red irises. She looks over and sees a human woman with dark drown hair and an olive skin tone, round cheek and a beautiful curvy, plumper figure, as well as the same dress as Pluto was wearing. The two look over at you shocked.

"P-Pluto?" You stuttered as you pieced it together

She looked down bashfully and folded her hands behind her back. "Y-yes... my lady." She transforms back in shame.

She walks towards Fenrir and picks him up. "Why did you take him?"

She hesitated before you motion for her to speak her mind "I... I don't want him to be raised by a racist who only wants to use him for sport or for work!" She yelled at you, anger brewed on her face.

"I Would never! I love him with all my heart! I love all the hellborn species equally." You try to reassure her.

"Wait... really?" She seems genuinely surprised

"Yes!"

"but... his majesty-

"Is not me! I'm not like him and I never will be!" You set Fenrir down and took Pluto's hands. "I stood up to Lucifer and Charlie because of the way they treated your kind. And I'll do it again in a heartbeat..."

She looked away. "I'm sorry your highness."

"Dont call me your highness. We are equals Pluto. don't let anyone else tell you otherwise." You pulled her face up and noticed the tears in her eyes. You wiped them away and smiled at her.

She hugged you, her figure shaking slightly as you held her. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I've been so rude to you since you got here, yet you've done the one thing I've never been brave enough to do!"

"What do you mean?" You pet her trying to calm her down.

"You stood up to the king! and the princess to boot! I-I could never..." She looked at you in awe.

"Are you kidding? Pluto you the bravest and strongest person I've ever met! Plus the only reason that I'm still standing is because for some insane reason he's in love with me! But regardless... I did it because for as long as I'm here, I'm going to protect the most neglected of society."

"Really?"

"I promise." You gave her a reassuring smile. You then turned to Fenrir to see him working on a puzzle with Styx who had joined the group in favor of Nina who had disappeared. "Where's Nina? and how long have you been here?"

"She went off to go make out with her wife. And since Pluto started crying." Styx's response made Pluto stutter embarrassedly.

"Why's your hair blue? Why are your horns different? Why are you so tall compared to the other imps? Why are you so stoic and sad?" Fenrir kept asking them questions about themself as they were the only one really focused on the puzzle.

"I'll go make you three some breakfast." Pluto offered.

"Thank you but that's really not necessary." You smiled.

"I know but I'd rather be anywhere than here right now..." She rubbed the back of her head and left.

You giggled a bit and placed Fenrir in your lap. "Focus on the puzzle. It's good for a growing boys brain."

"Okay Mommy!" He happily started to jam pieces together willy-nilly.

You sighed and looked over at Styx. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you may." They said not taking their eyes off the puzzle.

"Why is everyone wearing black today? Is it a national holiday? ...Is hell considered a nation? A region? A province?" You said that last part more so to yourself than to Styx.

"To answer your second question, Hell itself works as both a nation and a kingdom. Each ring works as a micronation or a territorial state. And within the pride ring there are nine cities-formerly called the nine circles-and each city holds subsections, usually ruled over by either an overlord or a member of the Ars goetia."

"Of yeah Renesmee told me about that. Each ring is stacked on top of each other like a cake!"

"Like a cake?" Styx raised their eyebrow at me.

"That's what she said... though, she was hungry when she told me about it..." You trailed off in thought.

"Well she's not exactly wrong." Styx shrugged.

"Can I ask you one more question?"

"Sure." They shrugged again.

You hesitated for a moment, only for a moment. "What do you know about this ring?" You showed them your ring.

"This is known as the Serpents grasp. It's said that whoever is in possession of it is doomed to have their soul devoured by the devoured by the devil himself! But that's just a false allegation. See the real story is far more interesting. See about 250 years ago a man fell in love with a beautiful woman, but she was engaged to another man so he made a sacrifice to Lucifer himself to give him charm unlike any other to woo the maiden and the girls family into giving her to him instead of her fiancé. But in exchange for this deed Lucifer demanded the first born girl of their family tree. Which was the girl you took the place of. Most believed he wanted her as a wife or a concubine. But he already had Lilith who... really only cared about the sinners of Hell instead of people like me and Pluto. Pluto had it the worst though, Lilith seemed to personally despise the Hellhounds so in the last years of her marriage to the king Lilith would often give Pluto outlandish tasks. But she got away with it because Lucifer couldn't bare to loose her..."

You looked at Styx in disbelieving, shocked by what you just heard. "But if he was so happily married why did he want the first girl from that family?"

"He wanted a nanny for Charlie." They said nonchalantly.

You were taken aback by their attitude. When you went to say something you were cut off by Fenrir handing you two puzzle pieces.

"Mommy… the puzzle is broken." His lip quivered.

"It’s not broken! It’s just that those pieces don’t go together." You searched for the correct puzzle piece. "See?" You connected the pieces and they fit together nicely.

"Mommy’s magic!" He stared at you in adoration.

You guys spent a few hours watching movies and TV shows doing puzzles while you watched. Giggling, snacking, and cuddling. Fenrir even wanted to frame all the puzzles you did together.

But it all came to a stop when Pluto cleared her throat and you, Fenrir, and Styx looked at her. Pluto motioned to the door, her and Styx gave each other a look (a silent understanding of sorts), before Pluto nodded at Styx. Pluto then took Fenrir from your lap and held him as Styx pulled you to your feet and pulled you out of the Parlor.

Through the winding labyrinth Styx lead you to Lucifers study. You don’t get why he needed a workshop, an office, and a Study. Rich people shit.

Much like everything else in the palace it was garnished with white and gold and covered head to toe in red. There were beautifully intricate book shelves. Horns and wings carved and painted into the walls and furniture. There was a beautiful curtain at the far wall satin fabric with embroidered Fleur-De-Lis on it. The curtain weren’t fully closed. A small piece of the fabric exposing the marble window.

You slowly crept closer to the window, curiosity pulling you closer with little to no resistance.

And there it was… the reason Lucifer didn’t want you to leave. The reason why he didn’t want you to look outside. The reason he locked himself in his room today. There were monochromatic angels descending from the skies. …And they were slaughtering every soul in their path…

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 11 months ago

Text

Part 5

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Elf/Noldor |Third Person POV)

Themes: Soft

Warnings: Secondary character has mild panic attack | Brief mentions of bruising

Wordcount: 1.6K words

Summary: Y/n and Nitiel talk while preparing dinner for themselves and the other servants.

Minors DNI

A/n: This is more of a filler chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it.

A/n 2: the previous chapters can be found here Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Y/n POV

The crown prince did not seek her out, but he kept to his promise the few times they did come upon each other. Thranduil was more courteous and respectful, even going so far as to instruct Feren to discreetly see to her welfare.

Feren called on her whenever time permitted, always asking brief questions about how she found life in the palace and how she was being treated by the others. Y/n answered as honestly as she could, and then the crown prince’s steward would take his leave of her before others saw and tongues wagged. One day, he even asked to see the bruise along her wrist. His lips curled in distaste upon seeing it, but he said not a word. Y/n considered it strange but kept her own counsel.

He called on her again tonight, and he departed only after pressing a glass phial containing a thick, pale ointment into her hands. Nitiel had seen them, and the phial that had been placed on the little table that was used for the cutting of vegetables and herbs and fruits. She swore to guard her tongue.

“Arnica.” She removed the cork and breathed in the scent after Feren took his leave of them. “Comfrey.” She smelled it a second time, and a third. “Yarrow. For bruises.” The cook put the cork back in the phial and regarded y/n with barely disguised curiosity. “You are full elf. Your parents were born in the Blessed Realm, no less. Why would you need such a thing?”

I suppose my secret would not remain a secret for long, y/n told herself. She lifted the sleeve covering her left arm and revealed the still-healing bruise along her wrist. It was now a strange shade of yellow, but y/n considered it an improvement on the black and blue and purple from before.

“This is why,” she replied, sitting down on a chair.

Nitiel took her hand into hers and hissed softly. “How did you get this?”

“I… I would rather not say.” Y/n thought it would not be wise to reveal what took place between her and the crown prince that day in the gardens. Nitiel had proven herself to be a kindly woman, but y/n believed the revelation could still go badly against her if she said anything. Thranduil was well loved by his father’s people.

“You would rather not say,” Nitiel repeated. She studied y/n keenly, determined to learn more. Then she sighed and let go of her hand, as if she had changed her mind. “Well, this ointment is not going to apply itself. Give that clean cloth to me; we need to get this done before anyone else sees it.”

It did not take them long to apply the ointment and cover it with a thin strip of dressing. They talked while Nitiel went about her task, and they talked while y/n helped her make supper for the servants. The others were away, clearing the dishes in the great feasting hall above them, leaving them alone. The cook had so many questions about life before the War of Wrath, about life in Nargothrond and Himring, and about the sons of Fëanor themselves.

“They say your father had hopes of you marrying one of Lord Fëanor’s unwed sons.” Nitiel dusted flour onto a thin slab of wood and rolled out the dough she had prepared for a wild-berry pie. In the hearth nearby, a stew bubbled away in its copper pot. The pie would be brought to the table much later, but the stew would be served as soon as it was done, along with thin, flat disks of bread and muled wine. Even in the kitchens, everyone ate and drank well. “They say you even met some of them. Pray what were they like?”

Y/n reached for a sharp knife and began to peel new potatoes for the stew. “Lord Maedhros was everything the songs made him out to be,” she began. Peelings fell without a pause onto a kitchen cloth she had laid out on the table. “But he looked so worn, as if the burdens of the oath were beginning to weigh heavily on his shoulders. Lord Maglor looked no different, but his eyes were softer, and kinder. Of the twins, we saw little. They were always abroad, hunting, and had little time for politics or council meetings.”

“Lord Caranthir?” Nitiel asked, crossing to the other side of the kitchen. She reached into a cupboard that had been mounted onto the wall for a pie pan.

Y/n stopped peeling. “He kept to himself mostly, and he always looked so angry with the world. Lord Curufin, on the other hand, did not keep to himself.” She returned to her task—wild carrots this time. Thin orange flakes fell over thin brown ones, and she found the sound of it all rather soothing. “And his tongue was as deadly as a scorpion’s tail. Many took care to avoid its sting.”

Nitiel shivered. “And Lord Celegorm?”

Y/n stopped again. Out of all the brothers, Celegorm stood out the most in her eyes. Almost as tall as Maedhros and just as fair, he was a maiden’s dream-made flesh. More than one lord’s as well, if the rumors of his many appetites were true.

“Captivating,” she said. “Others would gather around him at many a feast like moths drawn to a flame. He knew how to drink. How to eat. How to laugh. No matter the hardship, Lord Celegorm always knew how to laugh. He was an elf who was as wild and free as the Vala he once served. And he was dangerous. Yes.” She carried the vegetables to a clean bowl of water to wash. “He was dangerous. More dangerous than all of his brothers put together.”

“You make it sound like he was comfortable being drenched in blood and gore.”

“That is the thing. He was.”

“And it is best if the two of you are not heard discussing them.” Angon stood by the open door, his arms crossed, his countenance full of worry. The women were startled. They did not know he was there. Y/n bowed her head out of respect. “Not even here. Not even amongst yourselves,” he continued. “These walls have ears. Do you understand?”

The king, thought y/n, he must have spies everywhere.

And y/n believed the need for hidden eyes and ears may have been due to her. Still, she decided not to dwell on it, for it would only distress her if she did. She smiled and lifted the lid of a glazed jar instead, saying, “Came for more tarts, my lord?”

Angon threw his head back and laughed. “You know me so well.” He joined them and made himself as comfortable as possible in the chair Nitiel pulled out for him. Angon was every inch a warrior, all tall and proud and fierce, and the chair only helped emphasize his great height and size. Today he was garbed in the deep forest green robes he often favored. Nitiel once said the color brought out the green in his eyes. “Yes. I am not ashamed to admit that I have indeed come in search of more sweets. Though I must confess, my fair lady’s kisses are far sweeter.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, my love,” Nitiel countered, blushing. “But I suppose it would serve just this once. Now stay here and make yourself content with what I place in front of you.”

They talked again, this time of Angon and Nitiel’s plans for the future and of Nitiel’s new role, now that she was the wife of a high-born elven lord. There was no queen for her to serve as a lady-in-waiting; Thranduil’s mother, along with many others, departed for the Blessed Realm after the Elder King’s herald, Lord Eönwë, invited them to do so. There was no princess, either. Thranduil had no sisters, or brothers, for that matter. Oropher, Angon said, had decided that Nitiel would aid his own steward until Thranduil took a wife. Then she would serve her as a lady-in-waiting.

“Father and mother have also come around,” he announced, his eyes filled with a great sense of relief. Marriage without the blessings of either side of the family was always received ungraciously, and this was a good sign. “They agreed to welcome you properly into the family. Three nights from tomorrow, my love. Many of our kin are gathering for a small feast. The king agreed to attend as well, along with the crown prince.”

The pie pan and all that it held shook in Nitiel’s hands. She barely held on to it, saving it from falling and spilling its contents all over the polished stone floor.

“Oh,” she began, flustered. “Oh dear. Your parents… your kin… all those nobles, the king… his son… Y/n, you must help me. Please. My clothes, my hair… so much… so much…”

Angon was the first to reach her, leaving his seat without so much as a sound. “Sit here, my love,” he said, guiding her to the nearest chair and taking the pan out of her hands. “And breathe.”

“Should I fetch her some wine?” Y/n asked, equally as concerned as he was. Nitiel was pale and was clutching desperately onto his hand while she tried to compose herself.

“Wine is the last thing she needs right now,” Angon returned. He left the pan on the side and began to rub Nitiel’s shoulders. “Fetch her some water, my lady. Or that chamomile tea, if there is any of it left. Nitiel needs a little time to rest. That is all.”

“I will help you,” y/n promised. She prepared a fresh pot of chamomile tea while Angon fussed over his wife. “With your hair, your clothes, everything. Now drink this,” she urged after she came back to them, and pressed a warm cup into Nitiel’s hand. “You will feel much better after.”

tags: @deadlymistletoe@lemonivall@coopsgirl@tigereyesf@thranduilseyebrows @cupids-got-me @jane0error@asianbutnotjapanese

#a better future #chapter 5 #thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #feren imagine #ocs #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #thranduil #feren

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thedo0zyslider · 7 months ago

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I Love You (I'm Not Supposed Too) - Chapter Twelve: Rumors - 6K Words

Jimmy and Scott starting dating, and Fwhip makes a surprise appearance at the Ocean Empire

A03 Link

Rivendell’s second visit to the Ocean Empire comes sooner rather than later, happening within the same year as the very first one. Though it will only be the King and Queen attending this time, both of their children staying home to handle some things around the empire. It was to serve as some much needed practice for when they are older, as the elven Queen had mentioned. When Jimmy had found that bit out, a small pang of jealousy went through him. He’d rather have had practice than just being handed a whole empire at sixteen.

The Ocean Prince can also not decide if he’s happy or sad that Scott could not attend the visit. Sure, he wants to see his friend again, he wants to see him a lot. But, there was also the whole kissing Fwhip thingy. After destroying that letter, he managed to scrape another one together, and their exchanges had resumed as normal; Scott not knowing anything had been wrong in the first place. He also didn’t know about the kiss. He also mentioned wanting to be boyfriends recently, and Jimmy did too.

Well, he’s pretty sure he wants to be boyfriends with Scott. He really likes the elf, and probably thinks about kissing him way more than a friend should. And also florist with him more than a friend should, and gets butterflies, and everything else those dumb romance novels describe. He certainly doesn’t wanna be boyfriends with Fwhip , that’s for sure. Just the thought of it makes him recoil. It’s just the whole….kissing thing again that makes him unsure. Because he feels like he needs to mention it, but also feels like maybe it’s not that bad? Him and Scott weren’t dating when it had happened…..but they had been like, trying too or something…

Jimmy decides, for his own peace of mind, he’s just gonna keep doing what he has been. He’s not gonna tell Scott, and possibly spare the elf some pain. Which is another reason the cod doesn’t want to mention it, actually. Probably one of the biggest ones. He doesn’t wanna hurt Scott. And if not saying anything will keep him from getting hurt, it can’t be too bad of a thing…right? That sounds like something Joel would say if he asked for advice, maybe .

When the day for Rivendell’s visit comes around, a week after his initial panic about it, Jimmy is not expecting what ends up happening. A wrench is not thrown in his not telling Scott about the kiss plans, thankfully, but something else big does happen. Said big thing starting with one of the elven children actually being at the Prisma Palace today.

He finds this out through Lizzie, who had been the one to greet the King and Queen. Along with their mother of course. Jimmy was busy with his trident practice when they arrived, and had managed to wiggle his way around being in the greeting. If every royal elf wasn’t showing up, why should their whole family? His sister says one of the Prince’s was brought along to watch whatever meeting they were having, as they needed that form of experience more than their sibling did. She also did not tell him which Prince was here, just that mum wanted them both in the meeting, and to hurry up and get there. Oh, and also that someone was waiting for him, so he better extra hurry up. Jimmy just shouted another question after her as his sister left, giggling to herself all the while. Today was going to be a longer day than he thought, it seemed.

He walks alone through the halls, towards the main meeting room. Jimmy was going to walk with his sister, but she had run off before he could catch up with her. Though, she had mentioned that somebody was waiting for him, for some reason, and it just made Jimmy want to get to the meeting faster, in case said somebody was waiting in there.

Turns out, that the person waiting for the cod was the very same elf boy he had been both anxious and eager to see as soon as possible. Their first meeting in over a month or two goes a lot better than it did in Jimmy’s mind, thankfully.

“Hi Jimmy!” Scott’s voice rings through the room he was just about to leave, calling out for him. The cod can only whip around in surprise, and see the elf he thought he wasn’t going to see standing there. He is glad no one else is in the room, because his reaction would totally betray any kind of secret about their relationship. It’s not a very platonic one, after all.

“Scott! What are you doing here!” The cod says, unable to help the wide grin that stretched across his face. All his apprehensiveness about seeing the elf is gone, replaced by the joy he feels. All thoughts of what he did and didn’t do back at the Grimlands are gone as well, the joy overtaking those as well. When Jimmy realizes this a few hours later, after the elves’ visit is long over, it will be the most relief he has felt in months.

“My parents brought me along at the last minute!” The elf explains, running forward until he can wrap his arms around the cod. Jimmy catches him with a laugh, pulling Scott close to his chest. He gives the other Prince a tight squeeze, and realizes he missed him more than he thought he did. Two months was seriously too long without seeing this guy in person, and the blonde doesn’t know how he can ever do it again. Scott leans back from the hug a bit, so he can press a quick peck to the other’s lips. Jimmy smiles, and kisses him back. He feels like he’s in heaven right now.

The elf pulls away, an excited smile crossing his face. Jimmy finds that expression ten times more cute than he should, and also wants to kiss it right off his friend's face. “I have a gift for you!” Scott says, detaching himself from Jimmy’s person. If it wasn;t for the newfound excitement coursing through the Ocean Prince, he would be missing the warmth of their hugs.

“You do?” Jimmy says, already wondering what it could be. He wasn’t expecting a gift! Scott hadn’t mentioned that in any of their letters! If he’d known, he also would’ve got one for the elf! Unless said gift was supposed to be a surprise, that is. That just made Jimmy more excited about it, actually, now that he’d thought of it.

“Mhmm!” Scott hums, pulling something small out of his pocket. On closer inspection, said small thing appears to be a flower. A poppy flower, if Jimmy remembers correctly. If he’s wrong, he can just shoot Katherine a message about it later. “I know there’s not many flowers in the ocean, so I brought you one from Rivendell!”

“You really didn’t have too.” Jimmy mutters, taking the gift when Scott holds it out to him. Even though the cod has barely ever seen any flowers, it is the most beautiful one in the world. Certainly better looking than the blue orchids that litter the cod lands, and are a pain to get rid of. The flower in his hand, however, is absolutely perfect.

“Yes I did.” Scott is turning a bit red, his face hopeful. Jimmy thinks this guy is way too adorable, and that said cuteness is absolutely going to be the death of him one day. Especially if he keeps giving heartfelt gifts like this one. “You like it?”

“I love it.” Jimmy says, and presses another kiss to the elf’s cheek. Scott giggles, at that, and gives him a kiss in return. The cod puts the flower in his pocket for now, not wanting to accidentally drop and lose it throughout the day. He promises himself that he’ll find somewhere special to put it later that night.

“So, about the two of us dating..?” Scott hums after the gift is given and all the kisses are exchanged, bringing up an earlier topic from their last letter exchange. Jimmy had been expecting this to come up, whenever they saw each other next; considering that both of them had agreed this was something better discussed face to face. And thankfully, he is not nervous about it anymore, and knows exactly what his answer will be.

“Were you gonna ask with the flower?” He laughs, now recognizing the gift giving for what it was. On top of it being the cutest, most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for him and probably ever will. Fwhip, if he ever tries, will wish he could be as good at niceness as Scott is being right now.

“Yeah….Are we a thing now?” The elf hums again, his gaze holding excitement. And, if Jimmy is not mistaken, also some apprehension hidden underneath. But thankfully, there is no need to be apprehensive in the slightest. Scott will be getting the answer he wanted. The one they both did. Nothing more, and nothing less.

“Yep, we’re dating now. You’re my boyfriend!” Jimmy declares, already feeling the biggest smile of the day stretch across his face. Scott lets out a whoop of excitement before he can finish, and almost cuts off the last few words by kissing him again. Once again, Jimmy kisses his boyfriend back, and feels like he’s in heaven.

He is so, so, so glad the elf came for the meeting today after all.

After that declaration, and a second celebratory kiss, the two of them hurry to the meeting room. Thankfully, they are not too late, since the Ocean Queen herself has yet to arrive. Scott’s parents greet them warmly, and invite the two boys to sit next to them. Jimmy is very happy that they did. His seat ends up being the farthest from his mothers, something he knows will save him in the long run for the meeting.

Scott smiles at Jimmy a lot, light chatter filling the room before anything official begins. He’s smiling a bit too much in fact, because a certain princess has already noticed. (They have been officially dating for all of ten minutes, if that makes it worse.) Lizzie gives the two of them a glance, a curious one, and raises an eyebrow. Jimmy just glares back at her from across the table. His sister does not have the time to respond, because that is when the Elven King starts the meeting. It turns out to be a boring alliance meeting, which is great and all, he’s glad that the Ocean Empire and Rivendell are allies now. Jimmy just zones out for half of it, even though he probably shouldn’t do that. Beside him, Scott listens intently, like he’ll die if he won’t. He holds the cod’s hand under the table the whole time.

The rest of the visit is relatively short after the meeting, the Ocean Queen and Rivendell’s rulers going their separate ways. Though the latter two do spend some extra time in the Ocean Empire, wanting to let the children spend some extra time together. And it goes well! Jimmy gets to spend some extra time with his new boyfriend, even if Lizzie is tagging along the whole time. Though Scott seems to get along well with his sister, so it’s not too big of a deal. Jimmy likes that his sister and partner already get along.

The elves leave a little past noon, Scott sneaking a quick kiss onto the cod’s cheek before he leaves. Jimmy feels like he’s walking on clouds and he will be riding the high of this day for as long as possible. And, if for the next few hours, he seems unusually happy, Lizzie doesn’t comment on it. She lets her baby brother have this.

Jimmy goes to bed that night, a smile still stuck to his face, and thinks that this has been the best day of his life, and never wants it to end.

_____________________________

The week after the Rivendell visit is absolutely horrible, for a number of reasons. It feels like the cards are stacked against Jimmy, and that everything that can possibly go wrong goes wrong in just seven days. He finds out he’s stuck in this dumb empire for an indefinite amount of time, no more visits to other empires being scheduled. So his breaks from the Palace have just vanished, and there was nothing he could do about it. And his mother decided to be like, ten times worse on top of that. For literally no reason, Jimmy might add! He swears she invented new ways to deadname and misgender him, with how much she’s started to do it.

Both those things, among other things, are why Fwhip finds him crying one day. For a minute or two, Jimmy doesn’t even know that it’s the half dragon who finds him. All he hears is someone quietly opening his room door, which he had forgotten to lock, and then footsteps coming towards him. At first he’d thought it was Lizzie, knowing she’d been hovering kinda close to him for the past few days, clearly worried. That was until the person spoke, that is.

“Hey Jim.” Fwhip crouches in front of him, sounding soft. He also sounds a little awkward about it as well. Jimmy lifts his head, startled, and stares back at a boy he was not expecting to see any time soon. The half dragon reaches up slowly, brushing the tears off his face. His touch isn’t exactly soft like it should be, and he wipes the tears away roughly. But it’s okay. Jimmy says nothing for a minute or two, only letting himself melt into the touch. It's not exactly warm and soothing, but it’s all he needs for the moment.

“Hi.” The cod manages, his voice weak and tired from all the crying. Fwhip’s heart twists a little at the sound, and he decides to just hold the cod’s face instead. He thinks that’s what comforts people, physical touch that is. And it seems he’s right, because Jimmy leans into it without thinking. “Didn’t know you were comin’ over…”

“Surprise.” The half dragon gives a small chuckle, one without any joy. It sounds almost as sad as Jimmy looks, and probably feels like, right now. “You good?” He asks a rather obvious question, because doesn’t know what else to say. Fwhip doesn’t need to ask anything else, either. He can figure out why the codboy is crying pretty easily. And the obvious (and most likely) reason starts with Ocean and ends with Queen .

“...No.” Jimmy mumbles, glancing up at him, eyes red from crying. Fwhip feels a frown stretch across his face, and also feels said frown deepen instantly. He doesn’t know what has the cod feeling like this, and knows he probably wouldn’t get an answer if he asks. But the ginger also knows he can’t just leave him like this, and wouldn’t feel right if he did so.

“Well, that won’t do.” He says, getting back to his feet. Fwhip had come here to see Jimmy specifically after all, he might as well spend some time with him. And what better way to distract Jimmy from his sadness than by spending time with him, and probably annoying him with something dumb. Like he always does when they interact. “Come on.”

“Why're we going?” The cod asks, struggling to get to his feet. He sniffles as he stands, and wipes his eyes again. Fwhip pulls out one of the handkerchiefs he keeps in his pocket, doing so for sensory reasons, and throws it over his shoulder. He has to stifle a chuckle when it, presumably, smacks the cod square in the face.

“I'm getting you out of this castle. Just for a little bit.” Fwhip explains, holding the cod’s door open for him. Jimmy, who’s wiping his eyes with the borrowed fabric, steps out of the room behind him. He already looks a lot better, now that there’s tears clinging to his face. And also less like a sad and soppy kitten.

“....Thanks.” The cod mumbles, and folds up the handkerchief. He does not fold it up right, Fwhip notes, which is kinda gross. But he can chastise the other for that later, when he was in a better mood. The half dragon is already drafting the speech about proper handkerchief usage he’s going to give, and how Jimmy should know it already.

“What did I say about that?” He chides lightly, dragging the cod around a corner. Any annoyance in the half dragon’s voice isn’t too serious, only mild at best. He really did hate when Jimmy thanked him for being a nice person, and also showing him basic human decency. It literally wasn’t even the least he could do, in Fwhip’s opinion. The least he could do was actually go punch who or whatever had upset that cod this much.

“Right, right. No more thanks for this stuff.” Jimmy mumbles, following the half dragon going to the castle. He leads them out of it, dodging anyone who might be coming down the hall, and not going any direction he knows some of the maids will be, or any direction that has sounds coming from it. Jimmy thinks if he has to interact with anyone but the half dragon behind him, he’s going to explode. SUrprisingly, Fwhip follows his winding path with no complaint.

They get to the outside of the castle, and Jimmy suggests they go walk around the kingdom for a bit; maybe check out the marketplace and see if there’s anything interesting there. Fwhip agrees, saying it sounds like decent fun, and the two of them head off. They ignore the guards that give them suspicious glances on the way out, but refuse to follow. Jimmy is glad they don’t follow. It’s going to end up being a rather weird two hours, especially if they’re being trailed at all times. Jimmy also doesn’t want to worry about ditching guards, not when he has other things to worry about. Like how weird the half dragon next to him is being. Well, he’s being normal for other people’s standards, but weird for theirs.

Fwhip is being kind today. Well, no, kind isn't the right word there. He's being more considerate than he normally is, which is better than him being kind. If the half dragon started being overly nice to him one day, Jimmy would be concerned about it. The sentiment is shared, because whenever he fails to throw a snarky remark back at the ginger, Fwhip gets a stupid worried look on his face. Like a really stupid look, it's almost funny. If not for the way it makes reluctant affection bubble up inside him and his stomach turn into knots.

He ignores said knots in his stomach, and keeps walking through the floating lily pads with Fwhip. Jimmy holds back a sigh, and lets the familiar ambiance of ocean waves and people going about their days wash over him. He always wishes the Palace wasn’t so high in the air, so he could hear all of this. So he could hear bits of passing conversation, the Ocean’s children playing and laughing, and not just the crashing of the waves.

The cod ignores Fwhip, somewhat taking the lead as they walk. He is the only one of them who knows the way around here, even if his mental map is a little foggy. Jimmy just makes sure the half dragon is still following him, and nothing more. He still….needs a moment or two after the whole crying thing. So he lets the sounds flow over him again, and lets himself pick up on whatever conversation is around them. It’s mostly whispers about him and Fwhip, whispers he was expecting. Wondering why the Prince and the Grimlands heir were walking around the city. And there was also some whispers he wasn’t expecting to hear mixed in as well.

It's that day that Jimmy finds out about the rumors, ones he probably should’ve known about by now. Or at least guessed were a thing. The rumors that he and Fwhip are dating, that they are looking to get married specifically. Said rumors were probably spread by their parents months ago at this point. The two of them just didn't really know, because royal children tended to be some of the most sheltered ones in the whole damn world. In their cases anyways.

For a moment, he wonders if all their friends know. He thinks of Scott again, and cannot help but fret over what he had and hasn't heard. But the elf hadn’t mentioned it, so maybe the news hadn’t reached Rivendell yet? Yeah, that was probably the case, considering how far away both their empires were. And how isolated they both tended to be.

Jimmy held back a sigh, and slowed his pace a little; so Fwhip and him could walk side by side again. They had reached the market now, and it was as busy as Jimmy remembered it being. This place, like the rest of the Ocean Empire, was made of nothing but prismarine, quartz and concrete. It’s horribly pink and white, a sharp contrast to the neighboring marshes Jimmy’s grown used too. Between those pink and white shops, which have the more expensive items, are small stands, all run by independent show owners. Which is why Jimmy called it a market, because it resembled that more than it did a shopping district.

He leads Fwhip through the decently sized crowd, muttering polite apologies whenever he accidentally runs into someone. He’s feeling better by the minute now, some fresh air having helped more than he expected. The only thing is all the eyes he can feel on the two of them, even when they duck behind people and try their best to blend in with the crowd. Fwhip mutters something about how this is so much more stressful than the Grimlands market, where the people see him and Gem regularly, and that this might have to be a quick outing; before they get swarmed by people wanting their prince’s attention. Jimmy agrees with him, and hates that he does. The cod does quite like coming out here, after all.

One of the few places they visit is a stall, since Jimmy doesn’t feel like going in the stores and dealing with the people in there. The ones outside staring at him are bad enough, though the wonder in their eyes is a little endearing. The place they stop at seems to be one that sells handmade items, jewelry specifically. They approach the small counter, curious, and the owner has to do a double take when they see the two princes.

“Oh, the princess!” The shop owner says, their eyes lighting up in joy. It must be a rare experience, for a member of the royal family to come shop at your stand or store. Especially since they don’t tend to leave the Palace much. Jimmy hopes that, even despite the misgender, this gives them a cool story for their friends and family later today.

“ Prince .” Fwhip corrects the shop owner sternly, and with an equally firm glare to match it. Usually, Jimmy would tell him to be a bit nicer to his citizens. The cod hasn’t come out publicly yet, and also rarely appears in the public to begin with. Most people have no reason to know he’s transgender. But today, he is too tired to care, or correct the half dragon. (He also realizes he should’ve mentioned that fact to Fwhip before they got here, but the thought had slipped his mind.) All he can do is give the shopkeeper a slightly kinder, more apologetic look, and hope they don’t get shooed away from anything.

(Though, if they were gonna get kicked out for Fwhip’s admittedly aggressive allyship, then Jimmy probably shouldn’t shop there anyways.)

“Oh, sorry.” The person mutters, clearing their throat awkwardly. Jimmy immediately feels embarrassed for the both of them, his fins flicking downwards. If the half dragon beside him had bothered to learn merfolk body language, he would’ve figured out the cod was a tad upset. But Fwhip hadn’t bothered with that, so he just keeps somewhat glaring at the poor shop owner; who is already moving the conversation along. “What are you two looking for today?”

“We’re just looking!” Jimmy says quickly, before Fwhip can be rude again. He appreciates the support, he really does, but sometimes he just wishes the half dragon would be nice about it. But since when has Fwhip ever known to be nice, or at least a little…less blunt, about anything ever? Never. The answer to that is never. “Well then, take your time!” The shopkeeper says, trying to make themselves busy as the two of them look around. Fwhip looks at all the black jewelry specifically, while Jimmy looks for something to give to Scott. He knows elves value accessories, and that gifting them can be an affection gesture in their culture. Plus, he wants to repay his boyfriend for the poppy, the one he’s stuck to the top of his tunic. And, while Jimmy is looking, he catches a glance of some pride flag themed items, which makes him feel extra bad for Fwhip’s earlier rudeness.

He buys a necklace for Scott, one with parts of a nautilus shell woven into it. He thinks Fwhip buys something when he’s not looking, based on the amount of money the shop owner is counting when he walks over; money that was definitely not there before. He also tips them generously when checking out, figuring he should do some good with all the wealth he was born into. Also, they deserve it for making all of this, and for the small, trans colored patch he’s slipped when checking out. He thinks that was supposed to be for free, but the cod went ahead and paid for it as well and then some.

They stop by another shop, again with no intention of buying anything. But window shopping is nicer than Jimmy thought it would be, so he’s not too opposed to it. The place they stop by is actually the royal bakery, though it’s loosely associated with the family these days. His mother had long stopped caring about the business, and the family they had ordered pastries from for generations. She had been giving them less and less funding each year, leaving the business to thrive on its own. Lizzie always swore she would start supporting them again, whenever she became queen. And like a lot of things with his elder sister, Jimmy will believe that when he sees it. She isn’t the best at supporting things, after all.

They walk in, and Jimmy immediately recognizes the people working. Well, to an extent at least. He knows their faces at least, from a few sparse meetings when he was much younger. Ya know, when his mother still pretended to give a shit about things. The people at the shop definitely know who he and Fwhip are though, just like everyone around the kingdom does. But any potential ill will for the royal family abandoning them is either withheld, or rightfully directed towards his mother and his mother alone. Much to Jimmy’s relief.

They greet both of the princes kindly, and Jimmy gives an awkward wave to the two people behind the counter. He hopes no one from the kitchen finds out they’re here, and comes to take a look. He already feels out of place enough as it is, and seeing any more of his mum’s old and estranged friends was probably going to make that worse.

He and Fwhip only get one pastry from the store, that being a small bag of cookies. Mainly because Jimmy mentioned the empire having some world renowned desserts, and the half dragon would be stupid to pass this opportunity up and not buy something. When they are buying said cookies is when the whole visit goes wrong, and Jimmy decides he wants to go back to the hellhole castle now, actually.

“Buying this for a girlfriend?” One of the workers teases, flipping her curly hair over her shoulder. This is actually the most awkward thing she could’ve asked two teenagers, Jimmy decided. Especially when she was an ex family friend of one of those teenagers. “A lot of guys your age come in here just for that, ya know!”

“I’m his boyfriend, actually.” Fwhip said, somehow keeping his tone completely neutral. He overpays for something yet again, entirely ignoring (or just straight up not noticing) their cashier’s shock in front of him, and the way Jimmy is mortified and embarrassed beside him. He also feels like the half dragon is gonna call this another autism superpower later if asked about it, and makes a mental note to not ask him about it.

“ Oh. So the rumors are true.” The cashier mumbles, taking the extra money without any protest. She doesn’t even look happy about it, just like she’s trying to wrap her mind around the metaphorical bomb Fwhip just dropped. Jimmy stands there, now even more awkward than he already was, and considers strangling the life force out of a certain half dragon when they get back to the Palace.

“Heh, yeah.” The cod says, opening his mouth before his companion can say anything else insane. They need to get out of this store before Jimmy’s musing of killing just Fwhip turn into musing of killing them both. Just so he doesn’t have to deal with whatever the fallout of this will be. “Thank you.”

“Come back soon?” The woman behind the counter only offers an awkward goodbye, partly because they are already making a beeline for the door. Jimmy is actually gonna kill this guy when they’re in private, he decides. That was like, the most mortifying moment of his whole life, and he needs ro be repaid for it somehow!

“I’ll try!” He calls over his shoulder, and then they are out the door before Fwhip even knows what happens. Fwhip just grumbles something to himself, something probably rude. In response, Jimmy just calls him an idiot, and says to shut up and eat the cookies he overpaid for. Which Fwhip does, rather begrudgingly, and their stroll falls into silence once again.

So in one day, Fwhip has not only outed him as a transman to his kingdom, he has also outed him as gay. Which sounds like a bigger deal than it is, and maybe should also bother Jimmy more than they do. Both those facts were gonna be made obvious when they got married anyways, might as well get that part out of the way early. Besides, his mother already knew the first part, and already knew Lizzie was bisexual. Figuring out both her children were gay shouldn’t be too hard, especially with how her son interacted with a certain eleven prince just a week ago. (Even if the Ocean Queen cannot be normal about queer people for the life of her, much to everyone's misfortune.)

Also on that same day, the half dragon has told everyone they are dating. Which, unlike the last two things he told the whole world, is not true. They are not dating, neither of them have ever had any interest in being in that type of relationship with each other. Jimmy has a whole different boyfriend that Fwhip doesn’t even know about. This fact is also something that should bother Jimmy more than it does, but it doesn’t. He just walks with his “boyfriend” calmly back to the Palace, figuring he probably won’t have a breakdown about any of this later. Probably .

The half dragon slips a hand into his own as they walk, pulling the cod closer to him. Jimmy lets him do so without complaint, and tries not to think about the meaning too much. Maybe it means nothing. Maybe Fwhip doesn't want anyone to overhear their conversation. Maybe it means something. Maybe none of this means anything. Maybe Jimmy’s just overthinking again. The cod does not want to know which one it is, even if it's more than likely the last option, and also does not want to find out.

“How’s everything been?” Fwhip asks, keeping his tone quiet. Okay then, maybe he doesn’t want anyone to overheat them. Especially with the state he found the cod in today. That would be like, the worst thing they could reveal about the royal family after all. (Even if everyone with a brain has already figured out the Ocean Queen is a bit mean to her children.) However, Jimmy is still overthinking, and will absolutely not be mentioning any of that in public. So he skirts around the question, and tells the half dragon a bunch of information he probably didn’t even want to hear.

“It’s been okay.” Jimmy says, and it’s only half of a lie. Somethings have been pretty okay, other’s haven’t been. Which was obvious, considering the half dragon had walked in on him having a breakdown. It just depended on what things Fwhip was asking about. But the cod doesn’t want to get into all that. Not right now, or ever, really. So he switches the topic to the first thing that comes to mind. “Lizzie and Joel are dating now.”

“Oh, good for them?” Fwhip’s congratulations are a little halted, like he’s not sure if he should be happy for their friends or not. An understandable reaction, considering they are literally in an arranged marriage and fake dating. But no, much unlike the two prince’s own, this relationship is real. Joel and Lizzie had been crushing on each other for months. It was going to happen sooner or later.

Jimmy just wishes he didn’t feel so bitter about it.

“They’re an actual couple, don’t worry.” The cod clarifies, remembering how excited the Mezalean Prince had been when he announced it to his best friend. He wishes the memory still held the same sense of excitement it used too. “Joel’s actually over a lot now, just to spend time with her..” He adds, and Jimmy can’t help the bitterness that sinks into his words. Or it’s jealousy. The blonde doesn’t know which one it is anymore.

“Oh, that’s good. That they’re not arranged, I mean.” Fwhip says, and his voice is relaxed. But his grip on Jimmy’s hand stiffens. He heard the change in the cod’s voice. He was worried. Which was great. He hadn’t wanted the half dragon to worry, or anything like that, and now he was. Great going codboy .

Jimmy mutters a lame yeah in response, and then opts for not saying anything anymore. Staring at the pavement and people around them is suddenly a lot more interesting than speaking about this. This had been one of the things that weren’t really okay. In trying to avoid all of them, Jimmy had accidentally bought one up. How ironic, and also horrible for him.

The cod hasn’t seen much of Joel for awhile now, but it feels like it’s been less and less since he and Lizzie started dating. He sees the other prince briefly, on days when they’re both at the palace, maybe for an hour or so. Other than that, Joel is either in his own kingdom or with Lizzie. And Jimmy is stuck in the cod empire, sometimes leaving right as his friend arrives. (He has to wonder if those days are intentional..) Point of all that is; him and Joel haven’t actually hung out in a few months, and the cod’s starting to get a little apathetic about it. Of course his friend is spending less time with him, even when they’re at the Palace together. He does have a girlfriend now…. This probably sounds like, a little fucked up, but Jimmy is getting a little numb to people drifting away. He’s a little numb to being lonely and bitter about relationships. The Prince had never really had friends his whole life, not before meeting Joel when he was about ten. He was already the least favored child in the Palace, which had been clear for years and years. It had only worsened after he came out….his mother was crueler, and Lizzie and him had had a rift growing between them for a while now…

It only made sense to his brian that Joel would eventually move onto better and more likable people than him. Everyone else did, so why wouldn’t he? The only reason Jimmy even lets himself be open with Fwhip is because the half dragon literally cannot leave. And he’s sure if he could, the future Count would’ve been gone by now. They barely even liked each other when the deal was made anyways, and that probably wouldn’t have changed without it.

It’s definitely selfish, but he kinda wants Joel all to himself. Jimmy knows that’s not possible , and isn’t a good thing either, but he can’t help feeling that way. It would certainly be less…emotionally confusing than having Fwhip all to himself; like he seems to have now. Joel was just…his favorite person before (and still very much is!) and it’s not fun to barely see him anymore. It’s not fun at all. It feels like a big part of his life and already fragile support system has just been chopped off.

Hesitantly, like he can sense all the turmoil in the others head, Fwhip leans over and plants a soft kiss on his cheek. Jimmy thinks it’s supposed to be a comforting thing. It makes him blush bright red instead. It makes him hope no one else saw that, even though they just said they were dating. It had moved his thoughts away from some bad things, so at least there was that. Even if they’d just been moved to whatever’s going on between the two of them, which is equally if not more messy than whatever’s going on with Joel.

They walk back to the castle in silence after that, Jimmy only taking fleeting glances at the half dragon. He’s blushing after the cheek kiss, and does so for most of the way back. The cod doesn’t think his face gets any less red either. That just makes him wanna get home sooner, and Jimmy quickens their pace. It’s past noon, anyways, he should’ve been at the castle this whole time, and should be back before his mother notices he snuck out. If she notices at all. (She probably will, since she watches the Palace like a hawk. But is it really sneaking out if like, ten guards saw them walk out of the front door though…)

Fwhip walks him back to the Prisma Palace, up all those annoying ass steps the designers thought, for some reason, were a good idea. He doesn’t stay long after that, saying he wasn’t supposed to be here this long. Upon hearing that, Jimmy realizes he actually has no fucking idea how the half dragon even got here, and why he showed up like some guardian angel. Or when he did, or who he was with; because a visit was not scheduled for today. But the cod is not going to mention it to anybody, especially not his mother, just in case.

In the end, he honestly doesn’t care how Fwhip got here, just that his visit had made his day better. The half dragon made Jimmy feel less like shit, they were apparently dating now and he was also apparently openly trans, and that was all that mattered about the day. That was all that mattered, and all Jimmy could hope afterwards was that the next day would be better.

#jimmy solidarity #ron.fic #fwhimmy #flower husbands #they r back again lmao #fwhip #scott smajor #empiresshipping #ily (im not supossed too)

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jon-snows-man-bun · 3 months ago

Text

By Turns

Chapter Twelve

The closer Eris gets to his goals the harder he has to work to keep all plates spinning. Tensions simmer underneath his new alliances, pulling him into the Hewn City where the impact of Rhysand’s rule shapes the future.

Masterlist

Find this fic on AO3

A/N: No warnings this chapter. Mentions of violence, maybe?

This one got a little out of hand - we made it to 5.5k words before I had to call it.

Azriel was soft with females. He couldn’t help it. Perhaps it was his mother’s influence, the memory of her suffering at his father’s hands and the scars – both visible and mental – it left on her still. Or perhaps it was the image of Mor sprawled in her bed of leaves and blood, wavering near death, but he did not feel the urge to be needlessly cruel to Aisling.

Azriel didn’t fool himself that she was as good and golden as Mor – few were, especially from the Court of Nightmares – but she was polite to him. In those hours between day and night when their paths crossed he studied her on Rhys’ order, and she studied him right back. At first, he thought she was afraid of the shadows or perhaps sneering about the scars on his hands, but she watched them from the side of her eye even when he wore gloves.

Aisling was waiting for him to hurt her, Azriel had realised very quickly. He remembered her blind panic when he grabbed her as he was saving her, what he thought had been disgust.

Azriel resolved that she would wait a long time. Until he had no other choice, until she gave him no other option. He didn’t need more blood on his hands, more foul dreams to come creeping in some night in a century’s time. He’d had more of late, echoes of violence and misery he’d dealt out before.

Besides, he could see the curiosity in her eyes, and anger. Her courtier’s mask was good, but he had been at this game for centuries and could read fae very well. If she was truly frightened, she wouldn’t look at him at all. She was nervous now, but she wouldn’t remain so. Her eyes were too wide open. She’d grow to be angry when she found her feet.

It was the cycle of every prisoner. Fear was a powerful drug but one that could only hold for so long – the mind couldn’t sustain it. He knew it was in there, had glimpsed it when he explained the palace to her. He mentioned that the windows were warded so she could not fall, scuppering any plans she may have made about leaping. Aisling had only looked at him with a dull sort of disdain. The Darkbringer he interrogated only a few months ago had looked at him in that way. Something about the eyes, flat and dead, as if some candle had been smothered.

Aisling first showed a hint of spark when he arrived one morning before sunrise, stepping out of the shadows in the front hall. It had startled her, and she whirled to face him with wide eyes.

“I did not know Illyrians were capable of winnowing,” she said, looking at his shadows as they slid away from him.

“They aren’t,” he replied. He could probably get her tongue loosened here, now that she was away from Keir and Thanatos. Females in places like the Court of Nightmares always knew more than their keepers wanted them to. “Only me. But it’s not winnowing.”

“Some magic with the shadows?” She guessed, watching the way they altered the natural shadows, darkening and blurring them. His shadows didn’t particularly like her because he didn’t particularly like her, but they enjoyed the darkness she brought with her.

“Perhaps,” he said vaguely, not willing to part with too much of himself. “Can you winnow?”

“Perhaps,” she said, smiling with teeth as she slipped off to her room.

It was after a dark, silent week that she grew less guarded. He didn’t mind spending time here as much as he thought he would – everywhere he went in Velaris he seemed surrounded by mates. Feyre and Rhysand, happy and ever so slightly smug; Cassian and Nesta, aggressively in love and still prone to going at each other in shared spaces. They were so prolific in their fucking that he now held his breath every time he walked through the dining room and dragged his feet as he came around corners.

Although the spaces weren’t really shared anymore, except by technicality: the House was theirs, had been gifted to them. Azriel wasn’t entirely certain where that left him. Not at the River House, with Elain and the dazzling, shameful smell of her haunting the rooms; not at his mother’s house, which he found painful in any sizeable dose.

The palace on a mountaintop in the company of a female who didn’t want to be there either felt like a good temporary measure. Bitter medicine, but effective. He’d been kept busy on the Continent, trying to gather enough leverage to get those archaic fae kingdoms to commit to a treaty by holding something over each of their heads but it was difficult going, requiring weeks of study and survey. Those nights he was back, watching over her as Rhys requested, felt like a quiet, slow sinking into a frigid bath.

She was growing restless, he noted; it had been a week, and still Eris had not contacted them. Neither by letter (his bet), nor by burning straight through the wards in a great gout of flame (Cassian’s bet), nor even by sending three dead bats in a box (Rhysand’s).

It infuriated Azriel when he thought about it for too long, made his shadows thrash and writhe, sensing his agitation. He couldn’t imagine having a mate and not giving her everything. Not going out of his mind if she was imprisoned somewhere alone with a dangerous male. What were some odd bits of jewellery, some little trinkets that she had from him? They meant nothing. Eris had left her in a shithole, then held captive.

Azriel had spent centuries wishing for a mate, would have carved out his own kidney to feel the bond snap. It was so typical of Eris to have everything and treat it all like it didn’t matter. Everything was a game to him; his mate simply became part of the game, too.

He studied Aisling as he took a seat at the table, saw her watching him out of the corner of her eye. Why her?

“Did you learn to move silently because you are a spy? Or does it come naturally because you are a shadowsinger?” Aisling asked him as he sat down to take his dinner – her breakfast, he saw.

The room had been rearranged so the dining table was closer to one of the arched windows, the sheer curtains pulled back so the view was unobstructed. The snow blew off the distant mountaintops in gusts, a sight Aisling drank in hungrily Most of the furniture had been rearranged in this fashion – his shadows told him each morning that she was ostensibly reading a novel on a chaise by a window in the study, but she had made scant progress.

“It was part of my training,” Azriel said.

“As a spy,” Aisling surmised, watching the way his shadows ebbed and flowed around him like a cloak. “I thought it to be so. The other one has footsteps like a war-drum.”

Cassian. Azriel quirked his lips up at that – she didn’t know how true it actually was. They put on a performance for the Court, wearing dominance and aggression like armour, but Cassian thundered up and down hallways even in his socks.

“He thinks he’s light-footed,” Azriel said, which made Aisling half-smile.

“For a troll, perhaps,” she said.

“I won’t tell him you compared Illyrians to trolls.”

“I did not make the comparison because he is Illyrian,” Aisling said, cutting her eyes over at him. “I made the comparison because he is ugly.”

Aisling was watching him, gauging his reaction, and as he moved his hand to pick up his fork her eyes snapped to it immediately.

She was testing the limits of her confinement. What she could say, and what she couldn’t; what he’d tolerate. His mouth firmed.

Keir smashing her head into the obsidian table right in front of him. His mother wrapping her broken, crooked fingers around the bars of his cell, pulling him out into the light.

“His mate thinks otherwise,” was all he said, digging into his meal.

-------

Aisling missed Eris. This taciturn male, cold and quiet, made her miss him more.

Half of her wanted to see him just so she could shove the whole mess in his face, make him rue his words. To mock his speaking of safety as if that was ever a thing she had known, let alone held in her hands.

The other half wanted to see him because he was so vibrant that it felt like she came alive just from being near him, the way she had read that the moon was only illuminated by the trailing fingers of the sun.

He had made her cry. That was horrid. It was even more horrid that he had made her laugh. She woke every evening, alternately sick with longing and aching for his touch or furious all over again that he had left her so vulnerable. Sometimes both, at the same time.

Aisling couldn’t entirely relax here. In the City her home was spacious and the halls were airy despite the lack of windows, but they lived on top of each other. Her home alone had a half-dozen servants and more guards. All she had to do was step through her front gate before she’d see someone she knew: someone who recognised her as Aisling their classmate, as Aisling their dance partner, as Aisling the daughter of Fiach, or even just as Lady Aisling, one of the pale, wicked gentry. Her days had been studded with court and business matters and social visits; her nights crowded with dinners and revels.

This palace was empty.

She knew the handmaiden was spying on her – all servants spied, this was to be expected – and she suspected Azriel worked some magic with the shadows, the way he could walk through them. There had been rumours in the City, but no one knew for certain what he could and couldn’t do. Aisling watched him when he was around to try and learn but he gave nothing away.

She had been afraid, at first, but it really did seem as if they intended to do nothing but keep her until… something Eris did, or didn’t do. She was desperate to know what they were demanding of him. But this was a game of faces: she would not ask first because Azriel would be on it like a hound; because he dealt in information and even a hint of interest would make a tasty morsel.

Niamh would love the palace. She would spend hours in that enormous bathtub, peering off the edge of the world. Aisling felt a pang of longing for her friends as she went through her days, drinking in the sight of those distant mountaintops and endless, endless stars. This echoing, vacant palace was lonely.

After a week, the banality of her days had melted away any fear. She had only shown a hint of tooth instead of launching her plate at Azriel every time he came in the room like she wanted to; at first, she settled for creating unpleasant dreams, but he didn’t seem affected. In the end she gave that game up for lack of reaction.

The Lord Steward would have been on her like mushrooms on rot by now. The moonstone palace had plenty of empty rooms where he would have locked her up; a lovely deep bathtub where he would have held her under the water until she could see edge of the paper-thin divide between living and not. She kept toeing the line that she thought would be the one not to cross, but Azriel merely looked at her as if she were a particularly interesting houseplant and carried on.

This place was boring. They truly didn’t live here. Nobody did – Aisling had explored every room, considered trying to break the enchantments on the locked ones until she remembered the sort of traps and tricks that awaited you if you went lockpicking in the Hewn City. She had broken into her father’s office once and found the threshold enchanted to make everything she touched rot or crumble – food included. After a week she was hungry enough to remember the lesson.

She whiled away time staring at the sky, watching the patterns of the stars, the play of light. It was like drinking water on an empty stomach; it only made her hungrier, more ravenous. She was still training her eyes to accept sunlight by merely burning them until she thought her head would explode, gritting her teeth through the pain and unbearable brightness.

Aisling had been there for nine days when Azriel had crept soundlessly past the study where she had a novel propped in her hand and her eyes on the moon. A lovely waning crescent, sickle-thin, a pure true white.

His shadows darkened the corners of the room unnaturally. Aisling decided she could not bear another silent, dark night.

“Do you play?” Aisling asked, sitting up and gesturing at the board of Three Trolls Tall in the corner. Her father had taught her how, balanced on his knee. She had played countless rounds with Niamh and her other friends; wagering secrets against the females, kisses against the males.

This set was handsome, a carved onyx table with an inlaid marble board. The pieces were silver and gold, their markers inlaid gemstones. Everything here was so pretty, all dreamy marble and moonstone. All the furniture was comfortable and elegant, every view breathtaking.

And they didn’t even live here.

To her surprise Azriel hesitated in the archway, a dark figure against the stark, brilliant white of the palace.

“Please,” she said, though it made her throat burn to say it. He obliged her, coming in to sit at one of the padded chairs by the board. They were cut cleverly to accommodate for wings, a feature she had never thought of.

“Do you wager?” He asked, and she laughed.

Aisling admitted, “I have rather enough gold. I don’t need to play for coin.”

“For questions, then,” he said, drumming his fingers on the edge of the board.

“You would fit in well in the City,” she replied, just to see him frown. She had been wondering when the interrogation would begin anew, now that they had her isolated. She had dealt with his questions once before; another round was nothing. At least here Lord Keir was not looming from the corner, ready to stove in the back of her head. “Fine, for questions. I will truthfully answer one question as you win one game if the same rule governs you, until one of us rises from the table.”

The gossamer thread of the bargain hovered, then settled with a shiver when Azriel nodded.

Azriel let her go first, playing the silver pieces. She played carelessly, making silly mistakes, wanting to suss out her opponent. Azriel was overly defensive, stacking his trolls only in reaction to her own, trying to anticipate traps. She let him bait her and raised her eyebrows when he won.

He regarded her for a long moment, hazel eyes inscrutable. He really was lovely, in a dark, brooding sort of way. The quiet would wear on her, though. She missed Eris’ sharp tongue.

She missed his tongue for a few different reasons, now that she thought of it.

“Keir didn’t want you to say something when we spoke last,” he finally said. “What was it?”

The magic of the bargain hummed between them, compelling her to answer truthfully. The degree of truth, however, was up to her creative interpretation.

“Plenty,” she said, biting her lip to feign reluctance. Perhaps he’d do the entire City a trick and kill Lord Keir. “He likes his secrets and thinks City business ought to be handled by City gentry. Among them was that your spy in the Darkbringers was beaten to death.”

“And his other secrets?” He asked, face as blank and drawn as if it wasn’t news at all. He already knew that, but how could he not?

Aisling shook her head, resetting the board with a wave. “One victory, one question,” she insisted. His hazel eyes narrowed, but he didn’t get up.

She let him win again, firming her mouth into a line. She piled all her trolls doggedly, over-reacting to her previous defeat, an easy pattern for him to disrupt and scatter. She had let her hands linger over pieces, hesitating, second-guessing.

“What did Eris Vanserra give Keir in exchange for-” He cut off, suddenly ducking his head. He didn’t blush, but the thought alone was delightful enough to make her smile.

The torturer and spymaster. Blushing, because he didn’t want to say the word fucking in front of a lady.

“For a consort?” Aisling suggested, unable to help her smile. “I came to his bed willingly.”

That was true, though not the truth he was looking for. She had been miserable when she walked through the door but practically leapt on the bed after a few heated kisses. She still wasn’t sure if it was Eris himself or the bond that had made her act like a slut, rubbing herself on his lap, but she didn’t care. The memory made a flush rise to her cheeks, which Azriel tracked – of course. His eyes narrowed sceptically.

“He’s very handsome,” she said, and smiled toothily again.

Azriel didn’t believe her. Aisling reset the board again. She routed him this time, no mercy, pursuing a straightforward kill while he wasted time setting up obvious traps for her, thinking her a dullard at this game. He was still scowling as she felled his last troll.

“How did you get those scars on your hands?” Aisling asked immediately, wasting no time. He always hid his hands around her; they always twitched under her scrutiny. He hid them instinctively, under the board, and his strange shadows covered him.

She’d made him uncomfortable. Good.

“My half-brothers drenched them in oil and lit them on fire,” he said reluctantly, hazel eyes gone dark. His wings rustled, tucking in tightly behind him. Aisling didn’t have time to get a word out before he had pushed away from the table, rising and stalking from the room.

“Sore loser,” she told the shadow of the table, just in case it was listening.

-------

Elain had woken up to a watery, early spring dawn, unsure if she was actually awake.

Her dreams had plagued her. They weren’t bad this time, not blood and death, but they were unsettling and increasingly reluctant to let her go. She had dreamt of…

Owls, fighting and tearing at each other’s wings, in the shadow of a great mountain. Dark trees, dark figures, dark sky; no moon at all. A dark so rich and heavy it was like velvet, and she had sunk her hands into it, fighting her way out. It clung to her like cobwebs, and she had woken up fighting with her blankets in the pitch black. Her second sleep was easier, but still she saw strange things, fire and forests, animals and places she didn’t know.

She cried for a few minutes, silently, tears of frustration and shame. Then she got ready for her day, creeping through the quiet house.

Elain had plans this evening. A family dinner, because she was fine and well-adjusted to her new life and could do normal things. And they expected her to be pleasant and helpful and sweet, to do things like help cook for family dinners. And she really, really, did not want anyone to look at her too closely.

She was glad Lucien was gone, off with the human queen and Jurian. Lucien was always looking at her, even when he wasn’t; she could feel his eyes on her as keenly as she felt the heat of the sun. She always knew when he was in Velaris, could tell through some strange faerie intuition.

Elain hated it.

She tried not to think about it as she went through the banal routines of her day: baking in the morning with Cerridwen – Nuala being off somewhere, in her second role as spy which sounded terribly thrilling – then going to the Palaces. Hoof and Leaf first, then Bone and Salt, taking her time.

Beef for dinner. Plus two chickens, just in case someone else showed up.

Her foresight proved helpful when, as she was setting the table, Feyre came bounding in with Nyx in her arms, smiling broadly.

“Azriel’s coming to dinner as well,” she said, and Elain pasted on a rubbery, fake smile at that even as her stomach plummeted. What was wrong with her? Why had she gone from having a fiancée who loved her to having two faerie males, both unable to be in the same room as her?

Dinner began well enough. Azriel picked the furthest possible chair from her, unable to even meet her eye. Elain thought he had been avoiding her, but from the others’ conversations as dinner began, he had just been very busy. Guarding someone.

“How is it going over there? Nuala said you’re all just walking around in the dark. Is she difficult?” Rhys asked.

“She’s harmless,” Azriel said softly. The word set Elain’s skin to prickling. She?

“Nobody from there is harmless,” Mor scoffed. “And his mate? I don’t believe it. They’re very convincing liars.”

“She’s fine,” Azriel insisted, giving Mor a look. “She keeps to herself. We’ve spoken a few times, but she’s aloof.”

“Who is she?” Elain blurted, before she could help it. She frowned at Feyre’s disapproving look.

So what? She wanted to know things, too. She felt like a child sometimes here, cosseted and wrapped up in cotton wool. Maybe if she knew more about what was going on in the world beyond this city, she’d understand her visions better, or at least be able to explain them instead of being left disoriented and frightened.

“A female from the Hewn City,” Rhys explained, smiling kindly at Elain. Nyx cooed at him from across the table, waving a pudgy arm; he was getting better at picking up food and bringing it to his mouth, but it was still a bit of an explosion at times. “It turns out she’s Eris Vanserra’s mate. She’s staying in the moonstone palace.”

“Oh,” Elain said, a little stupidly. “Why? Does she not want to be with him?”

Was there someone else like her? Who didn’t want what had been forced upon them? Elain saw the meaningful, pitying look Feyre and Rhys traded. Feyre was always so annoyed with her that she wasn’t giving Lucien – her friend – even a word, but Elain was just so embarrassed by the whole thing. She didn’t want it.

“We put her there to protect her,” Rhys finally said, overly-gently, as if she were some injured lamb. “From Eris, and from the Court of Nightmares. It’s safer for her there.”

That was a lie. Elain could tell. If he really felt badly for this fae woman, he would have brought her to Velaris, where there were plenty of war refugees – not to mention the priestesses, safe in their library.

“Eris will seek to collect her,” Cassian said. “It will be a problem if we don’t hand her over eventually.”

“That seems unjust,” Elain said suddenly, making everyone turn to look at her in surprise. She had rather surprised herself, to be honest; she hadn’t meant to open her mouth.

“Elain,” Feyre sighed, putting down her fork. “You don’t understand-”

“Understand what? That she’s from that horrible place and her mate is vile? She had no choice in either of those things,” Elain insisted, taken aback by the sudden stab of annoyance she felt about the matter. Almost enough not to notice that the dreaded word fell from her lips like she was one of them. But it was unjust. It bothered Elain and it had taken her only thirty seconds of thinking about it to realise why – how easily it could be her being discussed at the dinner table while she was locked away, instead of this fae woman she didn’t know. Plucked from her home and tossed somewhere else by the whims of some mighty lord, then given to a male she didn’t know because of some predetermined force. Feyre spoke often and at length about how sacred and fulfilling the mating bond was, but here she was, wilfully separating this faerie from her mate and claiming it was for her own protection.

That is you, idiot. The thought dropped into her head fully formed as suddenly and clearly as a Xian gong, and she grabbed the bit between her teeth. It was so unfair.

Rhys, Feyre, and Mor were all exchanging looks, and she could just imagine the thoughts flying through their minds to each other – naïve Elain, she doesn’t grasp the politics – but Elain knew she was grasping the politics perfectly well, suddenly and clearly. They’d use this fae woman to make Eris dance the same as they must dangle her over Lucien’s head.

“It’s very delicate,” Mor said, trying to explain. She smiled across the table to Elain, warm and sunny, so comfortable and sure of herself. “The politics are very complicated. We couldn’t leave her in the Hewn City because she could be the key to an alliance between Autumn and the Court of Nightmares, which weakens us. But we can’t just give her to Eris, he’s…”

Mor trailed off, a shadow passing over her face. She bit her lip, suddenly folding her hands together. Elain knew whatever Eris did to Mor was brutal, so brutal that Feyre only hinted at it and nobody ever, ever spoke of it. So brutal that Mor still was frightened of him, five hundred years later. Who could be so horrible that they could leave a shadow over you for five hundred years? Elain couldn’t really conceive of it.

“But if everyone from the Court of Nightmares is evil and wretched, shouldn’t she fit right in with Eris?” Nesta suddenly spoke up, with a particular angle to her stare that Elain recognised with dread. She had felt a dizzying swoop of relief that Nesta interceded on her side – two sisters always had the edge against one, even if the one was a High Lady – that rapidly turned to anxiety when she realised the argument was gathering momentum, growing beyond what she had intended.

Elain remembered, suddenly, that Mor had suggested throwing Nesta into the Hewn City when Nesta had been having her troubles. Nesta obviously remembered it too, if the way she was sizing Mor up across the table was any indication.

Beside Nesta, Cassian sighed and lay a hand on her arm gently.

Elain’s chest clenched when she remembered that she herself also had a part in the hare-brained scheme to get Nesta to seduce Eris. How close Nesta had come to marrying him.

“It’s foolish to let her go to Autumn without trying to benefit from it,” Feyre jumped back in sharply, obviously looking to stop that runaway carriage before it got going. “Why should we give Eris something for nothing?”

“We can’t allow it because the Darkbringers answer to Keir who is – for some reason – swayed by Eris, therefore putting half of your army under Vanserra control,” Amren snapped, always one to cut through a situation.

“Autumn and the Darkbringers together is a sizeable force,” Cassian said gravely, stroking his thumb over Nesta’s arm absently, reassuring himself or her. “Too sizeable. We’d need both Helion and Kallias to counterbalance, if we can only field the Illyrians.”

“Eris is meant to be our ally, though. He’s kept his word thus far,” Rhys mused, and Elain realised that her lovely family dinner had turned into a strategy meeting.

Well, she had started it, she supposed. And they seemed to have forgotten she was here, so she kept a pleasant smile slapped on her face and didn’t say a word in case they suddenly remembered. This was far more interesting than the conversations they usually had with her.

“You’re a fool if you’re going to gamble that much on Eris being truthful,” Amren said, silver eyes flashing, stabbing into her meat with a concerning amount of ferocity.

“Even if he is a reliable ally, what if his mate sways his opinion? He needs us now, but he won’t always. What if the Court of Nightmares exploits that?” Cassian volleyed, tipping his head to Amren.

“I doubt Eris would care about a female’s opinion, even his mate’s. He takes after Beron in most ways,” Rhys mused. Feyre’s eyes grew limpid at that, no doubt thinking of how Rhys listened to her above all. He smirked in return, and Elain tried not to cringe. Cassian met her eyes and mimed gagging, which Elain found funnier than she could say – even if he and Nesta were no better than the High Lord when it came to gratuitous affection.

“Can’t we just – I don’t know – marry her off? To someone else? She’s from the Hewn City, why would one arranged marriage be any different from another to her?” Feyre said, which made Mor look a little scandalised. Elain was brought up short at that. That was a shade ruthless, even for Feyre, but half of the army had to be a sizeable amount. That had to threaten the peace they’d fought so hard for, for Feyre to suggest that. The time of the war was all fuzzy around the edges for Elain, but she could remember the dark army, their camp constantly shrouded by night, their frightening armour and cold eyes. She had tried not to look at them more than she absolutely had to, but her vision-dreams had been full of them.

“Absolutely not,” Rhys said to Feyre immediately. “No. A mating bond trumps a marriage. That would allow Eris to challenge them in a Blood Duel and he would win. If no one is trying to claim her, then he doesn’t even have that as an option.”

“Cassian and Azriel beat him before,” Feyre insisted. “And at that meeting – he’s not that strong.”

Rhys and Amren traded a look, Elain noticed. A quick one, and subtle, but she still saw it.

“He lost that fight intentionally, Feyre,” Cassian said, sounding rather grumpy about it. “He’s going to be a High Lord. There’s not many that can stand against that.”

“Really?” Feyre crinkled her brow at him, her nose scrunching. She looked her age when she did that, Elain thought. She looked almost human again. “But you handed his ass to him.”

“He wanted to strike that deal with Rhys,” Azriel confirmed from his seat in the corner – always, always the one furthest from her now. “It was better for him if you got away.”

No mention of Lucien getting away. But he had been there that day, too.

Cassian grinned arrogantly, “Felt fucking good stabbing him, though.”

Mor still looked a little pale, slightly queasy at the conversation. She rose and slipped from the room without another word, though Feyre’s eyes darkened with pain when she watched her go. It must be hard to be caught between friendship and power, Elain thought, watching Feyre waver between going to comfort her friend and staying put to finish the discussion.

“We are reaping what we’ve sown there,” Azriel warned darkly, looking at Rhys. His face hardened, and for a moment he was the High Lord, not her brother-in-law.

“We still owe Eris aid with deposing Beron. We just need to leverage the situation so Eris doesn’t have that hanging over us, and to control the Hewn City,” Rhys said. Azriel angled his head, dark eyes hooded, considering.

“Aisling said that Keir is waning in popularity,” Azriel mused. “It might be time.”

“I’ve promised that to Mor,” Rhys said, mouth a firm line. “I’ve already-”

Feyre caught his hand, and their eyes went distant. She was reassuring him, Elain knew. Elain knew Rhys felt guilty for bargaining away access to Velaris and how it had hurt Mor, even if Mor said she understood.

“Mor makes the decision when Keir dies,” Feyre said finally, speaking for them both. “And if she wants to, she does it herself.”

Azriel inclined his head in understanding, eyes hardening in dark anger. “As you say,” he murmured. “But we will turn Eris against us if we do not handle this correctly. After he collects Aisling and ascends, he will re-shape his alliances to suit his new power. If he thinks he will benefit more from Keir’s favour than ours, then he will become a problem.”

“I told you,” Amren hissed. “You should have killed him outright, let one of the weak brothers take Autumn.”

Rhys’ mouth firmed, violet eyes guttering dark.

“Nothing will threaten us,” he finally said. “We’ll keep Eris on side, and use him to control Keir. Bring Aisling to Velaris, we can use her to bind Eris into another bargain. He still wants to play all sides. We can exploit that.”

Elain thought of her dream, like pieces of a puzzle she couldn’t fit together. There had been fire in it, she was sure. Dark forests, dark mountains, no night sky. It was so vague, so unclear. She wanted to be helpful, hearing them talk about strategy, about politics and power. She wanted to have some sort of role or purpose beyond baking bread and gardening. She wanted to sit at the table and have an opinion, too.

-------

A/N:

Thank you so much for all the kind comments, kudos, and messages! I'll try not to write an essay here, but it really does mean a lot to me to hear that people are enjoying the story. I do think Feyre has a bit of a ruthless streak - remember when she thought about having Rhys mind control her sisters to help convince the queens? I had that in mind when I wrote her here. My read of Feysand is that they're on the side of what's 'right'... up until their family/Velaris is threatened. Then the gloves are off, so to speak. It makes experimenting with them more fun, when you read between the lines in the books and play with the tensions SJM left in their characterisations. Aisling's not meant to be a particularly nice character, either. I wrote a couple of practice scenes early on when I was developing her and the Hewn City - nothing that overly fits into the plot so I cut them, but as people are responding so well to Aisling I'm happy to post if anyone wants to read them. One is a pretty non-con encounter that I liked, but I cut it from the early chapters because I thought it was an extreme introduction to her character and the worldbuilding, and also I was new to the ACOTAR fandom and wasn't sure what the reception would be. But everyone seems down with the dark fics here, so I'm happy to share it if requested.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris x oc #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #I FORGOT THE PAGE BREAK IM SO SORRY EVERYBODY #RIP to those on mobile I beg your forgiveness

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random-introverted-blog · 1 year ago

Text

His Star - His Queen [Chapter 4 - What Was / What Is / What Will Be]

There you are!

Summary: You wake up in a strange bedchamber alone, in a wing of a strange palace that you are forbidden from leaving and meet your personal Royal Steward and Chamberlain... What is a morning room?

Link to the Tumblr Chapter Index

Warnings/Advisories: Nothing except creepy, possessive and controlling terminology and a very mildly horny Ascendant Astarion. Oh, and some threats here and there.

A/N: The outpouring of support and love for this story could honestly melt me down to goo. Thank you guys so much for the likes, reblogs, replies. If you read on AO3 thank you for the kudos, bookmarks, comments, all of it. Knowing you guys are enjoying reading it as much as I enjoy writing it is what I live for. If I can make someone's day in this little way, it's all worth it to me.

I spent the ENTIRE DAY editing this. My apologies if it's still not perfect, I did the absolute best I could.

I woke up yesterday sick and Christmas is this weekend so I'm not sure when the next chapter will be. Maybe next Friday.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

The darkness swirled and lingered, filling every corner and crevice without a definitive end. But when it all became clear, you almost wish it hadn't.

As you slowly peel your eyes open, you are greeted by the luxurious top of a canopy bed. The sheets were so soft and smooth that they felt like a dream in your fractured memory.

Then it all rushed back to you.

Your body jolted forward, and you leapt out of bed with lightning speed. In a split second, your instincts took over, and you reached for your weapon, but instead, your hand brushed against something soft, and not your belt. Or your padded trousers that made up your leather armor. No, you were dressed in a refined, off-white satin gown that elegantly draped over your knees. The dress boasted a crew neckline and short sleeves with delicate ruffles, exuding an air of sophistication.

You've never felt more vulnerable in your life.

Why did that feel rapidly subject to change?

You vigorously shake your head, banishing the thoughts clouding your mind. Focus on getting out of here. However, that's supposed to work... The memory of trying to kiss Astarion resurfaces, and you can still hear his voice telling you to save it, creating a bittersweet ache in your heart. Then the journey through Cazadors palace. You remember it all, the journey that brought you to this point, every step and decision replaying in your memory. The Ascendant...

This isn't your home. Not your world. Hells, how were you supposed to come back from this? And what about the tadpole? No, you won't let yourself panic and allow your mind to be overrun by wild thoughts. You won't. One step at a time. Get out of this... very expensive "I shouldn't even be breathing in here, it'll put me in debt for three of my reincarnated lives" bedchamber.

And that starts by finding some godsdamned shoes.

In a huff, you search the room until your eyes land on a wardrobe overflowing with countless pairs of shoes. With little regard, you carelessly throw the ones you don't like behind you, surely leaving a chaotic mess of mismatched slippers, sandals and boots that look like they'd crumble to ash at the slightest whiff of rough terrain. All too... blegh... What happened to practicality? Does that not exist in this world?

Finally, you come across a pair of simple black dress shoes. Considering most of the shelves are now barren, you decide it'll have to do. You sit on the ground with a soft grunt and pause when you lift your leg to see your foot.

Wrapped around your right ankle is a small band, its silver and gold hues giving it an almost ominous allure. Reminding you far too much of a shackle for your liking, though you see nowhere to leash a chain. You're now keenly aware of how perfectly it conforms to your skin as you absentmindedly run your fingers over it, hoping to find a way to remove it, only to feel a sense of tension when you discover no breaks. You're not even sure how anyone could have fastened it on you. There's no discernible latch or hinge along the band and it rests too snugly against your ankle to have smoothly fit over your foot.

Regardless, it wasn't there before, which means he had it put on you and that means it's nothing you want on you.

With a sigh, you resume slipping the shoes on, noticing how they conform perfectly to the shape of your feet, and rise off the floor. You tentatively approach the door, half-expecting it might come to life and smack you away. Or it may simply be locked. Then spit lightning in your face.

None of those things happen.

The door simply opens.

Somehow, that's not reassuring.

You cautiously poke your head out, taking a quick look in both directions. An open archway leading to a sort of indoor courtyard and fountain is straight ahead and a skylight streaming in sunlight. To your left there's a grand hallway that opens up before you, showcasing ornate hallway tables, exquisite floral arrangements, captivating portraits, and enigmatic busts of faces you don't recognize. And to your right is more of the same, but with doors lining both sides.

But it was eerily quiet, with no sounds of activity. Good. With a sense of anticipation, you place one foot in front of the other and step over the threshold. No invisible forcefield knocks you back, instead your shoes touch the red carpet that flows down the halls. How tacky.

Each step is slow and soft, filled with uncertainty and trepidation, as you creep onward. The sound of your shoes clicking against the white tile of the courtyard made you flinch, a sudden jolt of sound in the silence. It's wider than you expected, stretching out before you like an expansive canvas. Colorful flowers and green plants are carefully placed along the walls and in the corners, adding a burst of life to the empty spaces. A comfortable distance away from the large, white, three-tiered fountain, a bench beckons visitors to sit and enjoy the view.

You recall wishing you had your own...

Refusing to let your thoughts stray, you give the room a final swift once-over before pivoting and making your way back to the expansive hallway. That led literally nowhere.

This time, you turn left and round the corner a moment later. Another set of double doors, flanked by two muscular men, one a human with scarlet eyes and the other a tiefling with black and blue eyes. Initially, they appear unfazed by your presence until you make a move towards the doors. "Good morning, Lady Ancunín." The human greets you with a gentle nod. "You're up early."

Lady...? Oh no, absolutely not—Ugh, focus, Tav... "Where's this lead?" You ask with a gesture of your chin toward the doors.

"The southwest wing, ma'am." The tiefling answers this time. "We've strict orders to ensure you remain here in the northwest wing. And only approved staff may come and go." He says it so simply, so respectfully, it infuriates you more.

Don't be stupid.

Don't be stupid...

"Well," you exhale softly, your eyes fixated on the space between the two men. "How unfortunate it is that I simply don't give a damn," you conclude just as politely.

Just as you move to charge the doors and they close the gap to bar your way, another voice rings out behind you. "Let's keep our heads, shall we?" The voice, deep and resonant, interjects.

On instinct, you spin around and face it. In the center of the hallway stands a tall, imposing human man with jet-black, nearly cropped hair and piercing red eyes. He stands with an air of authority, his hands firmly clasped behind his back. "Lady Ancunín," he addresses you respectfully, his voice carrying a hint of formality. "The master deeply regrets his delay, as matters pertaining to the staff and estate have tied him up longer than he expected, but he assures you he will join you in the morning room shortly."

"First off," you snap, your voice sharp and piercing, "stop calling me that." Your hands wave in the air, a flurry of movement, emphasizing your frustration. "Second, what the hells is a morning room?" The words tumble out, filled with confusion. "And third, pray tell, who are you?" Your hands continue to move in a mix of irritation and curiosity.

"My name is Malacai, ma'am," he responds, his voice smooth and poised. He bows his back gracefully, a sign of his professionalism. The scent of polished wood and fresh flowers wafts through the air, mingling with the soft sound of servants bustling about. You briefly note that they must be out and about now, performing their duties for the day. "I am your Steward and Royal Chamberlain, entrusted with the responsibility of overseeing and ensuring that your servants maintain the impeccable standards that the master expects of those in your esteemed service." Sensing your confusion, he elaborates further, his words like a soothing balm, clarifying any doubt that may cloud your thoughts.

Malacai's eyes twinkle with an apologetic smile, his lips curving gently as he adds, "Regrettably, I am cannot comply with your order, for it would directly contradict the will of His Almighty Majesty." he states, his voice laced with conviction. "However, if you permit, I can enlighten you on the purpose of the morning room as we make our way." He extends his arm, a subtle gesture inviting you to follow. Reluctantly, you comply, the soft thump of your shoes against the carpet floor flowing through the spacious hallways.

As it turns out, it's just a small room to have breakfast in and lounge and it's not that far from where you already were. It doesn't escape your notice that the open window at the end of the hall, near the doors to the room and streaming in sunlight, does not faze Malacai.

A wave of discomfort washes over you as you take in the sight of two girls dressed in servants' clothes, standing in front of the open doors to the room. Brown and blue eyes. Not spawn. Interesting. So he really doesn't turn them all. Once you set foot in the room, they close the doors behind you.

Malacai moves with practiced ease, effortlessly gliding around you. He pulls out the chair facing the window for you. The drawn curtains create a soft filter of light as he watches you expectantly.

With a groan, you begrudgingly go along with it. Taking a deep breath, you roll your eyes and reluctantly occupy the chosen seat. Only to flinch near instantly when your ankle snaps to the wide leg of the chair. Instinctively, you glance down and try to move your foot. It doesn't budge. You can move the rest of your leg, but your foot remains fixed to the leg of the chair...

Hells below, it really is a shackle...

Just as you open your mouth to verbally assault Malacai behind you, the door swings open, interrupting your words. A chill runs down your spine as your blood turns icy. "Ah! Sorry, pet." With a smirk, he confidently strides in, exuding an air of nonchalant swagger. Like this is all fucking normal. "So much to do to accommodate your arrival." The closer he gets, the tighter your hands clench in your lap.

Leaning down, the Ascendant tenderly presses a soft kiss into your hair, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your head, sending a delicate shiver down your spine. A firm, grounding reminder that this isn't him. This isn't your Astarion. "I will stab you with a fork." You grumble, silently wishing you could.

He snorts quietly, his laughter tickling the strands of your hair, before straightening his back. Adjusting his short tailcoat that is practically screaming 'I melted a bank to pay for this'. His dark blue attire, adorned with a white trim, provided a polished and coordinated appearance, complete with form-fitting trousers. "Gods, I've missed you." With a sigh that carried a sense of longing, his eyes shimmered with a mischievous twinkle.

Right before you can retort, Astarion turns away, his tailcoat trailing behind him like a fleeting shadow, and he squints at the table with a perplexed expression. "What? They've kept you waiting?" His lip curls and he suddenly lifts his hand with a resounding snap of his fingers. "Malacai, I know it's been some time since you've served any meaningful purpose, but I did expect better of you."

A flurry of activity follows the sound of his nonverbal command. The room was bustling with staff of all shapes and sizes as Astarion settled into his seat across from you. With an air of indifference, he scans the room, his eyes darting critically over each person while he casually crosses his leg over his lap.

Suddenly, his eyes flit to yours. "Would you like the windows open, my dear?"

It crosses your mind, and a tug of desire catches you by surprise. Genuinely, you would.

Before you can even utter a word, Astarion's eyes twinkle with understanding as he flashes a brief, knowing smile, and then snaps his fingers a second time. "Windows, now." Disinterest replaced in his voice with authority and a glance over his shoulder.

As fast as it all happens, they're gone. So much so that it almost makes your head spin. Situated right in front of you is a tempting display of piping hot pastries and other delectable treats, accompanied by a steaming cup of tea. Sunlight streams in through the windows, casting a warm glow on the room. And besides the presence of Malacai behind you, you're alone. With Him.

It dawns on you. You're not sure what to say. What to do. There's food, and your stomach makes what it thinks you should do known with a silent, dull ache. But you can't will yourself to move. The only thought that remains consistent in your mind is home. Your friends. Your freedom.

Your Astarion.

This isn't your Astarion.

"Simply gawking at it won't satiate your hunger, darling." The Ascendant says, returning you from your thoughts.

"I'm going on a hunger strike."

"I wouldn't recommend it." He replies, though his tone is simple, the faint edge of a warning doesn't fail to reach your ears.

But you haven't come this far in life by backing down from a challenge. "If only I gave a fuck what you recommend." You sneer, shifting in your chair, itching to be free of it.

"Language, my treasure." The Ascendant scolds, and you lift your eyes from the plate to him. "Such a foul vocabulary is unbecoming a woman of your immense stature."

"Stature?" You echo, face grimacing in mild disgust. As you recall what he said before he took you, the air around you feels suffocating, as if the words themselves have become a tangible presence. "I'm just me. I'm a simple adventurer with... admittedly tainted blood—"

"You were." He interjects, the look in his eyes hardening. "Were. But are no longer. What you are now is my treasure. My dark consort—"

Each word strikes your chest like a hammer hits a nail and you try to interject. "No," but your tone lacks force, falling softly to the table.

"And what you will become... is my beloved, faithful and obedient queen." The Ascendant declares firmly, leaving no space for disagreement. "Hmph. I wish we could wed tonight and spend the rest of the evening... consummating our marriage,"

With every word he adds, his voice dances gracefully, like a captivating melody, beckoning you deeper into his presence. His eyes become eclipsed by a shadow, cloaking them in darkness, as his gaze betrays a disquieting blend of adoration, obsession, and desire. Causing an unsettling sensation to crawl down your spine.

Your stomach churns. The rest of your body yearns... No. This isn't your Astarion. This isn't right. "But patience is required." He exhales deeply with a subtle heave of his chest. "Waiting a little longer, so we may plan a proper wedding and coronation ceremony worthy of us is trivial by comparison to how long I've waited already." Says the Ascendant, adjusting in his chair to sit more comfortably. Paying no mind to your baffled, stunned staring.

"Before anything else, we must make your arrival in Faerûn known and declare your position by my side. And we have a mere tenday to organize our engagement announcement." Now he just seems like he's delivering a presentation, not seeking your input. "Don't fret, little love. I will take care of it. Just as I will take care of you."

"Coronation?" You repeat the word, its echoes bouncing around your mind like the distant sound of trumpets. The image of a grand ceremony materializes in your thoughts, with opulent decorations adorning the regal hall. The scent of fresh flowers fills the air, intermingling with the aromatic aroma of polished wood. Apprehension fills your heart, fluttering like a trapped bird. You can almost feel the weight of the crown bearing down upon your head, and a sickening feeling creeps over.

Suddenly, another word emerges from your memory, perhaps one you misheard, "wedding??" Reluctantly, you find yourself envisioning the scenario, as if trapped in a vivid nightmare. The image materializes before you: a pristine white dress drapes over your form, its delicate fabric brushing against your skin, the ethereal music guiding your path. Each step down the aisle sends a shiver down your spine, as your gaze fixates on the Ascendant, patiently waiting for you at the altar. Dread consumes you, tangible and suffocating, as if crawling beneath your very flesh.

A gentle, airy laugh escapes from him, echoing in the room. The sound is painfully familiar. It's not your Astarion. "Naturally, my love," he murmurs, his voice as velvety as a midnight breeze. "How else are you to join my side," he muses, a wicked smile playing on his lips, "and reign as my sovereign queen?" As he leans his elbow on the armrest of his chair, he idly runs his fingers along each other. "But we can discuss such matters after you've had your fill."

"I'm on hunger strike." You remind him, crossing your arms and leaning into your chair. You adamantly refuse to comply with any of this under any circumstances.

With a raised eyebrow, the Ascendant silently expressed their skepticism towards your defiance. "Is that so?" He stares, his intense gaze never wavering from yours. So much about him was the same, even his mannerisms. As you gazed into his eyes, a flicker of affection could be discerned. Your Astarion's feelings for you, but barely. This thing was a grotesque, twisted, and nightmarish imitation.

And it threatened to consume you if you don't get away in time.

Your body stiffened in a way that was becoming all too familiar to you. "You will eat your breakfast until your hunger is completely satisfied." Astarion's words command authority, delivered with a tone that is both warm and firm. His lips betray a hint of amusement as he observes your hands obediently move at his behest, disregarding your own desires.

"That was rather adorable of you, sweetheart, thinking you could resist me." His lips curl into a smile as he purrs, his fingers lazily draped over his lip.

With his other hand, he snaps his fingers; the sound resonating in the silence. "Malacai, be a useful little lark and fetch me a goblet."

"Of course, your majesty."

Astarion casually adds, with a dismissive wave of his hand, "And have someone arrange the offerings from yesterday in Orchid Hall." He regards you intently as you continue to eat steadily against your will. But says nothing further.

‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐

With a wave of his hand, you felt the confinement of your ankle release, allowing you to leave your chair once you've had your fill. You grumble at him, likening his behavior to that of Ethel, a name that doesn't ring a bell for him at first. When he does remember, he's just amused. It annoys you, but you're not quite ready to start another protest with him.

Astarion walks with you through the wide halls of the wing. His eyes catch sight of the open door to the bedroom you woke up in and as you pass, he peeks inside. With an exasperated sigh, he scoffs "hells below...!" and abruptly changes direction, entering the room. You entertain the thought of turning around and leaving, but the piercing intensity of Malacai's stare dissuades you from taking any action.

Confused, you trail behind the Ascendant and take in the chaotic scene of countless boots, shoes, slippers, and sandals strewn around on the floor. Oh, here we go. So much for not protesting, but you're not going to apologize either.

With a disappointed and vexed expression, he looks up at you. "Why didn't you let me know sooner that you weren't satisfied with your wardrobe?"

The more you blink, the more you become aware of his penetrating stare, and the realization creeps in that this is far from a weird joke. "...What?" But you ask anyway, unable to hide your audible bewilderment.

"Little love, if none of these selections are to your liking, I will summon the most accomplished and esteemed shoemakers and designers in the Gate to create something that suits your taste."

"Wait—" You stammer, flinching at the thought, but the Ascendant dismisses your hesitation.

He snaps his fingers, and as if they were mere extensions of his will, three servant girls gracefully glide into the room. With a disdainful gaze, he gestures towards the footwear, conveying their unworthiness. "Gather these and dispose of them," he commands, his voice oozing with a haughty demeanor. "My treasure deems inadequate."

As he straightens his regal attire, the fabric brushes against his fingertips, emanating a luxurious texture that matches his grandiose presence. "Tell Cirrus to ensure that only the most skilled shoemakers are summoned to the palace," he commands, his tone emphasizing the crucial role of expertise. "And a seamstress, while we're at it."

With a confident posture, he stands tall and looks down at them, his gaze filled with a subtle sense of preeminence. "If I discover any of these in your possession or, worse yet, on your wretched feet, I will personally ensure that you never need them again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, your Almighty Majesty," they answered, their voice quivering with a mix of fear and reverence for their all-powerful sovereign.

He gives his jacket a quick tug, ensuring it fits just right before facing you. "Now then To the Ballroom." The Ascendant says, the tone of his voice changing from terrifying tyrant to a tender, dare you say, doting lover. He moves past you, silently ordering you to follow.

But your curiosity gets the better of you. "Can I ask you something?" Your voice comes across as more timid than you expected or intended.

Astarion pauses in the doorway and turns again to face you. "Anything, my love." He smiles with a warmth that seeps into your heart, annoyingly melting it just a teensy bit. Stupid of you, you know it's a lie.

Though you ignore your irritation for now, to continue with your question. One that had started to bother you at breakfast. "It's just... they fit my feet and all perfectly, I... where did they come from?" As the words leave your lips, you realize how pointless they are. What purpose does this information serve? It won't help you get out of here.

His smile somehow warms, deepens, creating a sense of familiarity and ease. He approaches you with deliberate, unhurried steps, and lifts his hand to tenderly caress your cheek with the back of his fingers, his intense stare holding you in a trance. "Once upon a time... they were yours." The fervor in his eyes could make your knees tremble. If you weren't consciously coaching yourself that this isn't him. This isn't your Astarion.

Then, the Ascendant takes your hand in his free one, closing around yours, and you feel the strength and warmth of his touch as he intertwines your fingers together. "But what was... is no longer. Isn't it, my pet?"

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

Thought it different to not lock you into a bedroom and instead confine you to a wing of the palace with a magical ankle bracelet lmao. I flip flopped on your Stewards name (yes he is yours personally, Astarion just habitually bosses everyone around) and couldn't decide if Malacai was too odd a name.

More Ascendant next chapter? Or do we peek in on Astarion? ...decisions, decisions, whichever will it be?

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wendynerdwrites · 20 days ago

Text

A passage from the upcoming Dalish Ambition chapter. I am experimenting with portraying the ball through the eyes of Gaspard, Briala, Celene, and Florianne. This is a passage from my Gaspard POV. Enjoy!

When he sees her, he almost leaps for joy.

The night thus far has been delightful. His mercenaries are in position. His servants are distributing the threats. There’s plenty of brandy. And he’s already overheard multiple complaints from the highborn guests about not being able to tour the main gardens or royal wing. They have his catapults to thank for that.

This ball may be called grand, but with so much of the castle partially demolished - and Celene’s efforts to hide said damage - the event is more cramped than the usual Grand Winter Palace events. Despite all the courtiers being here, they’re all currently gathered around the Emerald Crown and balconies. Most of these people hate each other, and his cousin and sister have brought them closer than ever.

Mischief has already started. He saw one young bard slip an expensive-looking ring off one lady’s finger and toss it in one of the side fountains. The girl is now frantic and circling a section of the garden in a panic.

The nobles of Orlais love to make each other miserable. It’s one of the only things Gaspard likes about them.

Well, he also likes to hear them shut their mouths for once. And as the Inquisitor makes her way towards him, people get quiet. Many hands and fans are raised to mouths in shock. A few that do speak don’t stop themselves from uttering derogatory remarks.

Yes, come to me, Pretty Bunny. I’m the only one here who won’t call you knife-ear out loud.

Well, Celene won't. But it's unlikely the Empress will say much to The Inquisitor at all beyond the basic pleasantries. His cousin likes her lofty heights and gilded pretentions. And she would not like to be seen as trying to curry favor directly with Gaspard's guest.

The Inquisitor is delivered to him not encased in shining armor, wrapped in a dull uniform, or stuffed into an absurd court dress like he’d dreaded. It appears the tip his people got was right. Green and nature themed. The green of his collar is a similar shade to the dominant one of her gown. Though her dress changes color as she moves. There are hints of blue flashing in the garden moonlight. They don’t match just right, but they look similar enough.

Last time he’d seen her, she’d worn some ridiculous Dalish mage armor. He’d seen some of those before: all high chainmail collars, thick sashes, leather vest, wrapped legs and petal-skirts. It appears, however, that not all Dalish costumes are so unsightly. Her gown is not quite like anything he’s seen before, but the artistic merits of the embroidery and the fabric cannot be denied.

Best of all, she actually looks like a woman. The skirts actually hang rather than hold, so one can make out her stride. Her arms are bare, framed by strips of shining, semi-sheer fabric. The front of her bodice is a scene of a hallah standing in a tree-lined stream. The tree canopy makes up the straps of her gown and much of her neckline, the leaves beaded and textured so it seems like the forest itself is bursting out of her chest… along with her breasts. Indeed, her bosom almost looks like giant fruit growing from the trees.

Finally, a woman who is willing to not look like a bloody chess piece off of the battlefield. She even has hair, in defiance of the current fashion. And it hangs down her back, silken flowers growing from it. With the halla mask he gave her, she is unbelievably elven. But her jewelry is every bit as expensive as any lady’s here.

Everyone watches her, and Gaspard can tell it’s not just shock and horror at an elven savage in their noble midst. There’s hunger in their gazes. He wouldn’t be surprised if a number of his fellow aristocrats start buying dresses with leaf detailing for their favorite elven maids soon.

The best part is, none of it violates the courtly dress code. Everything to the length of the hem is technically regulation. It’s just… not the fashion.

It’s better. It’s a reminder of what actual flesh-and-blood beauty looks like.

And it’s hanging from his arm tonight.

Good. He’s a widower. If he plays his cards right, Celene will not be the only lady here tonight feeling threatened. If he ends this night as emperor, that’s advantageous for him.

Amidst porcelain masks hiding painted faces, stiff, enormous hoop skirts and shaved heads, here is a reminder of the beauties the Maker is capable of, more lovely than any courtly costume currently present. All these idiots spent months and who knows how much gold to be the height of fashion for this stupid ball, and here is the Dalish lady, unique and truly pretty.

Whispers would fly. She may be an elf, but she is the Herald of Andraste. And the fine lords and ladies here know that he has no love for them. If he plays this right…

“Well, it would be just like Gaspard to make an elf his Empress, just to rub our faces in it!”

“What if her holiness does make her worthy? We’d have to bow to an elf!"

They’d scramble to line up and curry favors with him, convince him that their daughters and sisters would be preferable to making them bow to an elven empress.

The smarter of them will know that would not happen. Ever. But they might guess he’d make the Herald his mistress. That’s a space almost as coveted and could be doable, potentially. Depending on how the war goes and how well he plays things. After the crown itself, this Lady Inquisitor Lavellan might be his greatest trophy.

He definitely intends on treating her as his special treasure tonight. He has no intention of letting her get leverage over him, but she doesn’t need to know that. If he’s able to fool her, even better. She makes for a fine trophy.

“It is a great pleasure to see you once again, Inquisitor Lavellan!” He says grandly, opening his arms as if to embrace her. But when she draws close and curtseys - perfectly, he notices, that Ambassador has done her job. - he kisses her hand like he would any other lady. “I assume you already know that you are the most beautiful creature here.”

There’s a slight twitch at the corner of her smile, but she blushes appropriately. “You are too kind, Your Imperial Highness.”

He gestures for her to lean closer to him with a conspiratorial nod of his head. His voice turns into a loud whisper. “The rumors coming out of the Western Approach say you battled an army of demons. I’m afraid you face far more unpleasant foes tonight. Luckily, you have the right ally. I intend for us to accomplish much tonight, Your Worship. And more.”

“Focus on one’s goals and honest ambition are certainly admirable traits, Your Grace. I look forward to seeing all the wonders the great players of Orlais have in store for me. I just hope I can appreciate them all properly.”

Interesting. He’s not sure how to read that. The statement is quite vague. Clearly by intention. “You may prove the greatest wonder of them all tonight. I only hope I do not stop people from seeing it. My lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper? They will be telling stories of this into the next age!”

Everyone’s expecting him. But he, and, he assumes, the Inquisition’s spymistress, kept the Inquisitor’s attendance as quiet as possible. He is the one who will shock the court by walking into his cousin’s court with a knife-eared savage.

Even if she is supposedly holy and prettier than any other guest, it will send a clear message of what he thinks of his cousin’s court and its pretensions. No matter what people call her, she is a rabbit in a fancy dress. That the current climate is such that everyone will be obligated to show her the same honor as any guest makes it funnier.

Yes, you pretentious, masked, cake-gobbling fuckwits, I fired on your precious Winter Palace and will now parade this heathen rabbit and her tits through its gilded wreckage. Maybe later I’ll set her to hopping on my cock in Celene’s bed.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dalish ambition #gaspard de chalons #fan fiction

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alastor-simp-page · 7 months ago

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The Soulmate Curse: Chapter 3

Woweee! Sorry it took like three days! Welp its out! Yippee!

The GIF is a clue (Alastor and Vaggie have a fight. Surprise. Surprise. Over who? Hmmmm. Who could it possibly be?) I honestly love Vaggie and Alastor's beef in the show.

I have to shut up. Also don't hate me. The angst goes hard. I'm not holding back, people.

The supposed soulmates are at it again!

A snippet is underneath:

“Sir?” A familiar voice squeaked. Alastor slowly opened his eyes to see an intense yellow eye staring at him: Niffty. Wait…Niffty. Her single eye was creased with worry, “Um, you fell asleep…on the couch.” She pointed to where he was sprawled, “I need to clean it, um, sir.”

Asleep? Alastor’s eyes snapped wide. He had been…ASLEEP??? Good God, no. He swallowed whatever panic arose in his insides. He wasn’t dead, he wasn't chained, no, in fact he was fine. He couldn’t sleep, no, wouldn’t sleep. Somehow he had done so. “Was anyone awake last night? To replace me?” Alastor asked as calmly as he could.

Niffty shook her head and then let an ear-splitting grin creep on her face, “The King showed me a room that hadn’t been cleaned yet when you all had your argument.” She swooned, holding the tight little duster in her hands. “I spent the whole night cleaning away…”

“So…” Alastor faltered. He shot to his feet and smoothed out his wrinkled clothes. Alastor stared down at her, “No one was patrolling?”

Niffty tapped her finger on her chin, “Well, the princess was!” Her eye narrowed, “Kind of. She was just pacing around mostly.”

Ugh. Alastor would have to deal with this whole soulmate thing shortly. A more sincere, petty smile touched his face. He did quite enjoy annoying her with those little pet names of his. However, it was no fun with this soulmate idiocy.

“You could ask the princess, you know!” Niffty giggled and started idly dusting away at the couch, “You’re her soulmate after all! Ehehehe.”

Alastor stiffened at that comment and switched the subject, “What of yours, Niffty, hm?”

Niffty turned slowly to face him with a wild smile on her face. Something that Alastor would guess someone would see in a horror movie. He didn’t fancy horror movies much. Niffty said sweetly, “That whole cleaning that room thing was to get rid of me!” She pouted and folded her arms, “He’s hiding from me!”

“I couldn’t imagine why,” Alastor smirked. He waved his hand and Niffty scrambled up his leg, propping herself up on his shoulders, “I will assist you, dear Niffty. I’m sure the King will be pleased with a little visit from his destined soulmate.”

“Aw, thank you, Alastor,” Niffty hugged his head, an odd thing but Alastor didn’t mind at all. He had grown used to Niffty’s antics after half a century. It brought a little warm fuzzy feeling of…friendship? No, he could hardly call it that. He owned Nifftys’ soul for crying out loud! As Alastor walked down another winding hallway leading to the main lobby he asked, “How long did I sleep for, Niffty?” She would know, of course. It was a habit of hers to obsess over her friends.

Niffty hummed to herself, “Uh, four hours?”

Too long. Alastor grimaced. Who knows what could have slipped into the hotel during those four precious hours? The princess of Hell…Charlie was vigilant but she wasn’t used to providing protection. Alastor was sure she had been used to guards everywhere in her life in that glittering palace of Lucifer's. There were none here so he had to become one.

Why? He wasn’t sure himself. For his own safety, he was sure. For Charlie’s safety. It would be a shame if the Princess of Hell was harmed in her sleep.

Alastor reminded himself to do a sweep of the hotel after he sorted out this whole Niffty nonsense.

As Alastor neared the main lobby, hushed voices drifted down the hall. He stopped dead in his path, Niffty pulled at his hair to remind him to go forward. Alastor let a little warning growl escape him and Niffty ceased her antics.

“Vaggie…” An Australian voice drawled, “We’re soulmates, doesn’t that mean something to you?”

Alastor creeped closer to the door and his ears tilted towards the commotion. It was no mystery who was in the lobby.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #charlie morningstar #alastor the radio demon #charlastor #fanfic #radiobelle #charlie and vaggie #vaggie #cherri bomb #soulmate au #heavy angst #don't hate me #ao3 writer #ao3 #hazbin hotel fanfiction #drama #soulmates

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bunnywritesjunk · 2 years ago

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Ruusaan | Captain Rex x Reader

Series summary: You missed your tropical planet, but coruscant had more to offer. You are a field medic in the 501st. you work closely with the captain in hopes of not losing your job. But how close is too close.

Chapter summary: Jarok has plans for you as his new addition to the household.

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Warnings: Rated R, Slavery? Blaster wound.

Word count: 2.6k

Genre: Fluff and angst

A/n: hello everyone! I had a hard time writing this chapter but I have plans. not much to say except i hope you enjoy.

Chapter Nine:

Your jaw clenched as the Zygerrian dropped his hand and inspected your body further. The way he looked at you was different, he was hard to read.

“Unfortunately I am not as familiar with her planet as you are Mr.Jarok.” Anakin said.

Jarok walked up to Anakin. “I am willing to pay whatever price you name. She will be mine.”

You started to panic a bit. How will he keep up the facade without selling you?

“Alright, 35,000 credits.” Anakin said looking smug.

Jarok looked him up and down before speaking.

“Very well, bring her to my palace before the auction I will have your credits.”

“I will send my associate to drop her off.”

You looked at Anakin pleading. He gave you a reassuring look.

“No need, I will send a guard.” The Queen said.

“Ah, of course, your majesty.”

With that, Jarok left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were led outside by a Zygerrian guard. A slave collar had been placed on your neck for transportation. Before you left Anakin silently resurred you everything would be ok. Honestly, you have never put this much trust in someone but you had to for the sake of this mission. The guard walked on quietly to the outskirts of the city with you in tow. A large house came into view, it had a tall metal gate decorated in ornate designs. A guard was standing near the gate, he looked slightly different than a normal guard. His uniform was black with accents of gold, and his helmet matched. The Zygerrian that brought you walked up to him and spoke in a hushed tone. You didn't care to know what they were speaking about. The gate opened and the guards led you inside. The door was large and heavy looking, made of thick solid wood.

You stepped inside taking in your surroundings. The foyer had beautiful couches and rugs. The walls were covered in large canvases with different art on them. past the foyer was a grand staircase.

“Sit there and wait.” One of the guards said to you.

You sat on the edge of a chair stiffly, not fully feeling comfortable touching things. You were surprised when the guards left you alone. After a few minutes, you heard heavy footsteps approaching from where the staircase was. You looked at the hallway with anticipation building. Jarok emerged from the hallway, his eyes landed on you and he stopped at the foyer entrance. You stood up quickly unsure of what to do in his presence. He approached you slowly.

“Do you have a name?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Tell me.”

“Ruusaan.” You said not wanting to give him your real name.

“That's an interesting name for your region. Come, walk with me.” He said while turning around.

You followed him silently. He led you to a kitchen it was very large and had a huge island in the middle of it.

“You will have a few duties around the house, the first of which will be cooking. I expect to have my meals prepared fresh every day. Don't worry about cleaning there is a maid for that.”

You were a little confused, he said maid which means he pays them to clean. Does he not have another slave for that? After the kitchen took you upstairs.

He took you to a bedroom “Your second duty will be to keep your space clean, this is your room.”

You were slightly taken back, he was giving you a room? Slaves don't get rooms. It had a large bed in the center of the room along with a dresser and a bookshelf. He was already walking out of the room leading you to another room before you could look around. This one was at the end of the hall and had double doors. He opened the doors and led you inside.

“Your third duty will be to attend to me.” He looked at you.

You looked down a swallowed nervously.

“Don't worry, that will come in due time, for now, I will wait until you get acclimated.”

He walked up to you his height towering you. He lifted a finger under your chin and pulled your head up gently. You tried your best to avoid his eyes.

“Now, I know you haven't been processed properly. But, I hope we don't have to put you through that. So behave and we won't have any issues, hmm?”

You nodded slowly. He led you back to your room.

“Maybe we can take that collar off in due time.” He closed the door behind him.

You breathed heavily trying to calm your emotions and keep your cool. You wandered around the room searching for a way out. You looked out the windows, they all led to a fenced-in yard. Even if you could find a way to scale the side of the house you couldn't get past the fence. You walked over to a closet and looked inside. There was an array of dresses in all styles and colors. Nothing but dresses. You went to the door and tried to open it but found it locked. You sighed and sat on the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had nothing to do to pass the time. You tried to sleep but doing that in this new and uncomfortable situation was challenging. A few hours had passed and it was getting dark outside. A quiet knock came from the door before it opened. You expected a Zygerrian to emerge, but it was a woman in a long linen dress who came in. She had long brown hair in two braids and bright green eyes.

“Hello miss.” She said.

“My name is Garna. Mr. Jarok has requested you.”

She stepped aside so you can leave the room. Garna guided you down to a dining room. Jarok sat at the head of the table with a full plate of food and a glass of what you assumed was some sort of alcohol. He looks up to see you and Garna arrive. Garna waited near the entrance.

“Come sit Ruusaan.”

You chose the seat furthest away from him, but before you could pull the chair out he said,

“Here” And pointed to the seat directly to the right of him.

You slowly made your way to the chair and sat down stiffly. Jarok looked at you as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Your eyes never left the opposite wall.

“Are you hungry?” He says.

You shake your head. In truth, you were very hungry but did not want to take food from this man. Jarok grunted and waved at Garna. She left promptly. With Garn gone, you got nervous. She was acting as a buffer of sorts. Jarok sighed.

“The more comfortable you get the easier things will be for you. One of the reasons I wanted a woman from your planet was because I know how your people take care of each other. Marriage is truly a partnership in your culture, and women are worshipped. That is what I want, I want you to be my wife. And I will worship you.”

You were taken back by his speech. “So you brought me to play house?”

“Not play, I want you to make this place a home.”

“It helps that you are beautiful.” He said.

Your tail flicked beside you in annoyance. Garna had returned with a plate of food and a glass of water. She set them down in front of you.

“Eat.” Jarok said before digging into the food.

You poked at the unfamiliar foods on your plate. You could recognize a type of grain and roasted meat and vegetables. All of which you've never had before. You glanced at Jarok only to see him looking at you intently. He gestured to the food. You picked up some of the grain with your fork and tasted it. It was earthy tasting and had a grainy texture. The rest of dinner was silent apart from the occasional clinking of a fork or glass. You ate a few bites just to satisfy him before your small appetite gave in. After dinner, he leads you back to your room.

“Sleep well kitten.” He said before locking you inside. You took off your shoes and made yourself comfortable on the bed. You might as well try to sleep, who knows when you'll get out of this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stirred in your sleep. You heard small tapping sounds nearby. You open your eyes and look around. It sounded once again, near the window. You pulled back the curtain, at first all you saw was darkness. Then, a small pebble hit the window causing you to flinch slightly. You look down and see a person standing in the yard. It was hard to make out who it was. You tried to open the window, but it budged only a couple of inches.

“Ruusaan, that you?” The person below said in a hushed tone. It was your Captain.

“Yes! It's me.” You whisper yelled back.

“Can you get out?”

“No, the door is locked.”

“I'm coming Ruusaan hang in there.” He ducked away out of your sight. You put your shoes on ready for Rex to bust through the door. After a few minutes, the door creaked open. You see the trembling hand of Garna first, she looked terrified once the rest of her came into few. Rex was behind her holding a blaster against her side. You felt bad but it was necessary for your freedom. Rex beckoned you to the door gently pushing Garna inside the room. He closed the door behind Garna and locked it. You were beyond grateful to see him. You took in his form, still dressed in his Zygerrian armor minus the helmet.

“Alright let's get out of here, stay behind me.”

He held his blaster at the ready position. You stuck close behind him making your steps as light and quick as possible. Your tail grazed and curled around his leg unconsciously. Rex glanced down at the appendage but remained focused on getting to the ship. Descending the stairs there was no sign of anyone. You did not know whether there were other staff in the house. At the bottom, you tiptoed down the hallway. You assumed back the way Rex came in as you had not been shown this part of the house. It was just as decorated and gaudy as the rest of the house.

“Leaving so soon?”

Jaroks voice sounded from the darkness. He emerged at the end of the hall with a blaster in hand. He didn't raise it towards you and Rex but his rigid stance told you he was ready to shoot. Rex pointed his blaster at the hulking Zyggerian.

“You are not taking her from me. Leave.” Jarok said almost growling as he spoke. Rex took a small step towards him.

“Get out of the way, I won't hesitate.” Rex said.

“I have paid handsomely for her have I not? Now, you and Lars are going back on the agreement? I should kill you on the spot.”

Rex furrowed his brow slightly and glanced down.

“Right, Lars had underestimated the value of this slave.”

“A deal was settled, now leave.”

Rex reached back keeping his eye on Jarok, he placed his hand on your hip and pushed you behind him out of Jaroks view. Jarok tilted his head at the display and smirked. He took a step forward, his blaster still held at his side.

“I see, you are...smitten with her. I cannot blame you however, she is mine and mine alone.”

“Move or I will shoot.” Rex growled out.

“And risk me shooting back, hurting her? I don't think so. I am a civilized man.”

Rex didn't relent keeping his blaster up. You noticed a golden side table with a vase on it. You felt picked it up gently as Rex and Jarok continued their showdown. In a wind of adrenaline, you spun and launched the vase as hard as you could toward Jarok. The Zygerrian tried to turn before the vase was thrown but it caught him off guard. The vase made solid contact with his cheek and broke into shards. Jarok groaned loudly, holding his head. Rex grabbed your wrist and sprinted past him. You struggled to keep up with his speed, almost hitting a corner you rounded. You heard thundering steps following as you ran. Rex twisted back and fired a few blaster shots. You didn't look back in fear you would slow down. Rex lead you through a swinging door, it was the kitchen. Two women snapped their heads at you and Rex, looking frightened. You and Rex rushed past them. He lead you to a large door before he could reach for the handle, it opened.

Four Zygerrian guards emerged with blasters. They took a beat before raising their weapons. You pushed Rex behind one of the counters as they fired their blasters in your direction. When they rounded the corner, Rex recovered and quickly took them out. He grabbed you and helped you to your feet. You felt a dull pain in your side but ignored it as you followed him outside. Your breathing was slightly more difficult than before but you pushed through. You heard Rex shout into his comlink but could not make out his words. The ship came into few but you do not remember getting on it. You stood behind the pilot's chair, a light hand resting on it. Anakin was there...as well as Ahsoka...Why did you feel so off?

“You're bleeding.” You heard someone say. You couldn't make out who.

As the adrenalin wore off, the pain in your side had become more intense. You raised a hand to feel in between your lower ribs. It felt warm and wet, you looked down at your hand and saw tinges of red. Voices muffled around you before your vision went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You heard faint beeps and shuffling around you. You squeezed your eyes together as the light shone through your eyelids. You reached a hand up to rub your eyes.

“Well, good morning sunshine.”

You opened your eyes and blinked away the grogginess. Na'wi was sitting on a stool at the foot of your bed. You groaned as the pain in your side returned with a vengeance.

“Quite the hit you took there, punctured your lung.”

She started fiddling with her Holopad.

“How long was I out?” Your voice came out hushed from underuse.

“About two days. There's someone that will want to see you.”

You looked at her puzzled, you opened her mouth but before you could say anything the blast doors opened and a very distraught-looking Captain walked in. He said your name breathlessly.

“Thank the stars, you're alright.” He rushed to your side.

“I'll leave you guys for a minute.” Na'wi said smirking.

Rex barely seemed to notice Na'wi as she left. He looked down at his feet before glancing back at your face.

“Why did you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“You took that blaster shot for me, why?”

You shook your head struggling to recall when exactly you were hit. You opened your mouth to answer but no sound came out.

“I had armor, I am trained for something like that. It was not your job to take a hit for me.” He said quickly.

“That doesn't mean I should let you get shot.”

His eye closed in frustration and he grabbed your hand.

“Never, do that again.”

You squeezed his hand.

“I would do it again, Rex. I don't regret it.”

The Captain sighed and enclosed your hand in between both of his. You looked up at him and smiled warmly.

“Never again.”

“Okay, never again.”

He looked down at you fondly.

“You should rest.” He moved away from your cot but you squeezed his hand once more. He looked over his shoulder at you.

“Stay? I could use the company.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

He grabbed a stool and sat near you, rubbing his thumb over your hand rhythmically.

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #captain rex angst #captain rex fanfiction #clone captain rex #clone trooper x reader #clone wars 501st #clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #clone trooper rex #rex #captain rex x you #rex x y/n

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aphroditestempleimagines · 1 year ago

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The Obsidianite Jewel

A fem!reader x Chevalier Michel Fanfiction

Chapter 11 -> Chapters Masterlist

Words: bit short this time but trust me

Warnings: graphicness, war, wounds, death etc

Summary: It all started when your fiancé, Prince Gilbert, brought you to the palace of Rhodolite. He hoped he would find the secrets of the princes. Instead, he lost your heart to the brutal beast. However, Gilbert is not going to let your heart wander away easily.

"Status report, Sirs!", the knight stood at attention in the Main tent.

"Speak", said Chevalier, his gaze focused on the map in front of him.

"Black Banners were spotted in the north forests. Jadeian troops are said to be among them"

"How many did you count?", said Licht.

"'tis a small group, sir, not over a thousand, we could easily crash them"

"My, that would be a very bad decision indeed", Clavis smiled from the chair he had sank in, "We'd be up for a lovely surprise if we followed them".

"Still, we cannot leave the northern towns to their mercy", Licht was already grabbing his sword, "I'll go"

"No you won't", said Chevalier. He traced the river that run on the map with his index finger. Clavis was correct. No matter how much of a fool he could be, he was always quite perceptive. This was a diversion, meant to draw them away or at least split their army in two. They were lucky Benitoite had remained neutral in the war, but Jade was still a tough foe to handle on top of Obsidian. One could say they did not stand a chance, but it would not be Chevalier, nor any of his brothers.

The northern forests were not so dense near Obsidian and Rhodolite as they were in Jade. The few Jadeian soldiers inside the Obsidianite army could not make up for Jade's true strength. Unless a part of their army was somewhere else, either meant to surround them once they got to the spot or taking its time crossing a more treacherous and hard-to-anticipate path to the kingdom. If Jade hid its soldiers near its border then such an attack would be possible, and they would be caught between the army and the river.

"Destroy the bridge and light the forest on fire", he said.

It was so close to the border that most of the trees were near death anyway, sharing in Obsidian's misfortunes and draught. They should be as flammable as they could ever be.

"But what about-"

There was one village within the forest, as Clavis was probably about to say. "If the enemy is there they either already fled or died", Chevalier responded. His brothers seemed reluctant, but his knight obeyed instantly.

Gilbert's ultimate goal was not simply conquering Rhodolite but Benitoite as well. Chevalier focused his gaze on the borderline between the Kingdom of Roses and the Empire of Death. Gilbert had to find a way to draw Benitoite in a way that he would be justified to destroy them. He could not use the same trick twice so whatever he did it would have to happen during this war.

"I'll be leaving", Clavis pushed back on the wooden pole he leaned on.

"Where are you going?", asked Licht.

Chevalier rolled his eyes. It was obvious like the sun in the morning sky that Clavis was once again being a humanitarian fool.

"To do something stupid, by his account", Clavis smiled at Licht as he pointed at their older brother with his eyes.

Chevalier let out a heavy breath. So utterly predictable.

"The ridge", the white tiger murmured to himself. His finger landed on a passage, lined by high gray cliffs, next to the forests where the enemy hid. Should a fire break out, the opposing army would most likely scatter backward. The forest was framed by tall mountains on Jade's side, full of the vibrant vegetation that characterized the country. Meaning the only escape amid such panic would be through that small passage, towards the banner obsidian.

"Come", Chevalier told Licht, who only responded with a look of confusion.

The brutal beast gathered his knights for what was going to be a slaughter. His steps marched strong; he was used to the weights he himself tied around his legs with his decisions. His duty was to Rhodolite; he could not spare his mercy to those who threatened it.

They had reached the border by daybreak. Chevalier smiled to himself as his men followed him inside a secret maze of underground passages. His idiot brother used these a lot in his spare time. It did not take long until the were standing at the hilltop where the caves led. A great cloud of dark smoke loomed over the horizon. It had already begun.

They descended the hill until they stood at the foot of the small canyon. The archer had taken a different path, led by Licht, and managed to hide among the rocks of the cliffside, aiming the weapons at the passage. Then, they waited.

Waited for the wolves to run right into the hands of the sheep. They waited for their blades to paint the canyon red with the blood of those they thought as beasts.

The battle did not last long. With the fire on their tail, the enemy soldiers decided to take on the foe ahead since, unlike the blazing flames, men could be bled dry. It was a calculated slaughter, and it was over before it had begun. Chevalier was cutting down the last of the soldiers that still raised their blades against them, when Clavis appeared on his grey horse. He marched among the dead, maneuvering his way around the corpses. His steps were quick, his eyes clouded. He made his way to Chevalier. One did not have to be a genius to know he bore bad tidings.

"What", said Chevalier, his expression neutral as ever. He took a look at Clavis' face; it was whiter than a sheet.

"I....ah....", Clavis took one look of Chevalier's face. His brother's hair was dripping with the blood of those he had slain, his hands still wrapped around his dirtied blade. The beast's nature was out in plain sight, yet the man within, resting behind the tiger's tired eyes, counted the empty crimson days of war that had pushed him to the dark depths of a place he could perhaps never return; A place where the numb feeling in his body was all that held the foundations of his reason from collapsing under the pressure of his long-forgotten humanity. Everyone who looked at Chevalier would recognise that numbness, characteristic of his usual appearance. Yet one would wonder how deep into blood the prince could soak in, before even that serious demeanour crumbled. "Nothing", said Clavis, his expression lacking a smile for the first time in a long while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm leaving", Gilbert said as he wore his black gloves. His voice was hesitant, his gaze unsure as he looked at your form. You gazed upon his reflection in your vanity's mirror and continued brushing your hair. He approached. "You've barely said a word since you came back", he let his hand rest on your shoulder. His fingers played with the strands of your hair.

"There is nothing to say", you responded. "You have your war. You got what you wanted"

You averted your eyes. You could not stand the frostiness of his gaze even in a reflection. You felt his breath on your neck as he bowed his head. His black hair tickled your skin as he placed a small kiss on your shoulder. "Y/n-", he began but a cough stopped him. He covered his mouth with a white handkerchief. You turned and reached for him but he backed away. Soon, he was done, and he hid the small piece of fabric back into the pocket of his jacket. "Sorry", he smiled, "Something got caught in my throat". He took a deep breath. He stayed silent for a minute before turning away. "Get dressed", he said, "You should come". And with that, he walked out the door.

Looking back you still do not know why you agreed. It was so easy to follow him because you had simply lost any interest in his schemes anymore. There was no point in trying to prevent a war that was already raging in full strength.

He gave you a simple black cape as you both climbed into an inconspicuous carriage. After a few hours, you finally arrived at your destination. Gilbert gave you his hand as you emerged back into the world, but the world was too gruesome for you to even notice it.

You climbed down into a makeshift camp, where the dead outnumbered the living by a mile, and no soldier was left unscathed. Gilbert dragged his came through the blood and puss-infested mud. A few drops of rain came from the sky to bathe the uncleanable. Gilbert took your hand by himself so you would remember to follow him through the regiment of corpses. You walked and walked until you reached the edge of a cliff. You immediately noticed the forest turned charcoal, the rain putting out the last of the fires that blazed for the previous day.

"What is this?", you asked, already knowing the answer. It was the end of a battle, the remnants of Obsidian's defeat.

"This is what happens to what Chevalier touches", said Gilbert.

You scoffed. He had some nerve when he was the one who started the war, he was the one who dragged Jade into it with his lies, he was the one who...

"Are you insinuating something?", you asked coldly. Your voice came out threatening even if your eyes were drawn away, to the burnt trees stretching until the horizon.

Gilbert came closer until he was standing beside you. "He does not care about people's lives, much less this empire's....or yours". He tried to touch you but you shook him away. "I'll win this war", Gilbert said, "And I'll do so by ending him".

"Ha....", you smiled bitterly, "it was not your lips one would expect this to come out of".

"He's the real threat", Gilbert continued, "He's no better than my father"

"Forgive me for being biased, but he was not the one who poisoned me was he?", you shot a gaze at him. His expression was still as cold as the ice in a glacier. In this regard, he was like Chevalier. In that and nothing else, other than perhaps the same cruel lens they viewed the world from. Their souls were a tempest, more than the river that flew below you.

"That was not me", he said

"Do you really expect me to believe that?", you replied, "Tell me that you didn't get tired of waiting and decided to do it yourself. Why else would you arrive so conveniently after I passed out?"

"Is that the only reason you can think of?", he spat.

The rain was falling heavy from the heavens. By the time you turned to look at him you could barely see the vindictive glint in his eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Come on", he said, "Would you really blame me if I wanted to kill Chevalier? Would you really hate me so much for taking my vengence after he took everything I ever desired?"

"You're crazy"

"Am I?", he laughed. He covered his eyepatch with his hand and pulled it off of his head. He exposed his bright blue eye, shining under the gloomy sky, the tears falling from it mixing with the rain. It was only then you realized that his heart was too broken to hate. And it was too broken to love. All that was left in him was emptiness, and an unanswerable "why".

"I just showed you who he truly is and you still take his side", his smile was one of despair. His brows furrowed and he cried, "Why would I not want him to DIE?"

He stepped towards you, his cane next to his foot. The muddy cliff gave out. You had just enough time to see the shock in his eyes, an emotion you had never seen nor thought you'd ever see painted in their shine. The world was moving slowly. You reached out to him. His body was already falling downwards. Your fingers curled around the trim of his ebony jacket, but your feet could no longer support both your weights. Your eyes shot wide open as you realized what you had done. The two of you hurled downwards. Time regained its speed, the the cold water pierced your skin like needles.

The current pulled you from every direction, throwing the pair of you from one side of the river to another. Your hand was desperately grasping at Gilbert's jacket. You did not have the strength to do anything else. Suddenly his hand pulled you closer until he wrapped his arms around you. He kept your head above water, even at the cost of his own breath. That was until a wave blasted you onto a rock. He hit the hard surface with his back. His head bled as he weighed on you and you realised he had lost consciousness. You dove under the water and pulled him over your shoulders. He was heavy, but the water was just starting to calm down. You dove in and out of the water as you swam to shore, pushing him up to keep his head above the surface. You changed into pulling him once your feet hit the pebbled bottom of the river. You heaved but you managed to drag the both of you into safety.

Or so you thought.

Your clouded eyes registered the light of lanterns before you surrendered to the hands of your exhaustion.

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