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deafsignifcantother · 1 year ago

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if music be the food of love, chapter one

♥ chapter two! ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic) ♥ word count: 2.1k ♥ pinterest board ♥ warnings: reader got hurt by someone they loved before death, reader is shorter than him, bickering, reader loves tea, lonesome reader, alastor invading space ♥ my idea is that reader has a small stereo on her chest that lets out classical music based on her mood. I imagine that it comes from both her chest (softly) and the outside of her manor (loud as fuck).

Your manor is only visible to the town when the lights are on a tall hill and covered in trees. However, even if all the lights were off, people would at least know it's there.

There are two reasons: the tale and the music.

Tale, a story for the newcomers. They speak of a demon who plays music all day, doomed to play music forever. Oh, the music. The music can be heard from even miles away.

It's refined and dainty, and it reeks of misery. The classical music never seems to repeat itself; it goes on and on and on and on. The demons hear you only through your music. When you cry, the violins and cellos grow with a cruel crescendo. When you sleep, the music is soft, almost quiet. Everyone comes to an understanding, assumption, that if the music were to stop, you would be dead.

The demons who try to step closer to your manor will find themselves experiencing unfathomable sorrow and guilt. The sound of your music is the demonic ability you possess, and it's out of your control. Due to the sadness of your death, you are forced into misery in the afterlife. When you were alive, those you loved and devoted yourself to only broke your heart.

Everybody affected by your music feels that grief.

Alastor doesn't understand why people fear your manor. Your love-related pain doesn't affect him at all.

He starts up the hill, moving both on his feet and through the shadows. On his way to your manor, he focuses on the landscape. The landscape is beautiful; the forest below is so dense that the red sky disappears. Personally, he loves the music. He loves tuning in on you and hearing how you're doing. He sparsely gets to visit, so hearing the song of your heart is always so welcoming.

The worst thing to him is how long the damn walk is.

You're in your house, passing through the dining room, when the lights flicker. The people from the nearby town stutter when the usual sad music suddenly becomes upbeat.

Opening the door, you are greeted by Alastor's traditional smile. You're the one that initiates the hug. He gently wraps his hand around you, only for a short time before he pulls away and establishes his distance.

"Long time no see, my dear." He signs, his claws adding a flare to the simple signs. Truthfully, his sign for "my dear" translates directly to "sweetheart," which he's aware of, just putting faith into you understanding what he means.

"I'll start some tea." You sign, turning immediately to the kitchen.

He smiles at the jazz sneaking its way into your music. The people outside know what it means.

Alastor looks around at the new decor; the place is different every time he enters. It's all the things that you enjoyed when you were alive. That's what is most noticeable about you beyond the aura you possess and how stuck you are to the past; you refuse to acknowledge your situation, which is both a curse and a blessing.

From the kitchen counter, you look at him, seeing him behind you, his staff out of his hands.

He leans a bit forward. "I have news! Have you heard of the new buzz, the new project from the princess of hell?"

A small smile forms. "Charlie?" You remember many years ago when she appeared at your door, in tears due to your involuntary magic, begging you to teach her ASL. You politely declined, though you wrote her a long paper about Deaf Culture (often derailing to rant about your opinion on common debates/crazy events). You've never seen her again, but you're confident she's read it.

You continue, "Her projects are... sweet?"

"Sweet and quite peculiar. She believes that demons can be redeemed. How absurd!" His smile grows, his eyes squinting in interest. He knows you're devoted to being good and staying away from violence. He's here to convince you to join her cause.

"Fascinating," you can't help but show your pure astonishment. "She's on our side."

"Oh, how kind you are!"

The tea is ready. You turn entirely away from Alastor, and he lets you. Your thoughts are apparent; he has spent weeks excited about this conversation. He's absolutely fighting the urge to spill out every argument he has; he wants to mention that if you participate, you'll see each other daily. That hasn't even crossed your mind yet.

You pour the tea and take your time, a little nervous to continue the convo. Alastor's eyes remain on your frame, your casual clothing. The last time he saw you, you were dressed up despite spending your days alone.

You hand a cup to him. Neither sign; you stand still, staring at each other and drinking. Both of you already know what the other will try to say next. Your eyes are deep in thought while he is locked on you. The only reason you are doubting being involved with everything yourself is that you know your aura makes others depressed. It is not very good, isolating. On the opposite stance, Alastor always noticed how your music gets positive whenever he's around. He knows (guesses) that in the hotel, with his presence, your saddening demeanor would be no more.

He moves abruptly, you follow, and he sits on a heavily cushioned couch, dipping deeply, which makes him smile. Your soft smile grows—more piano.

"What are your thoughts?" He prompts with one hand. You take a very long sip of your tea before putting it down.

"I wouldn't make them feel comfortable," you explain. "That's all I think about."

"Ever so pessimistic, my dear. You never know unless you come to visit. What do you say?" He grabs his mic and jokingly reaches it to your face, "A simple visit?"

You put a hand to your temple. "My love," you sign without noticing how his lids droop in comfort, "do you really think I would belong?"

He puts his hand to his chin in faux thought. "Of course I do! The princess will approach you with open arms."

You let out a small, broken groan. You're not going to be winning this little debate. Alastor's going to be able to rebuttal everything you say. Knowing that, why is it still so hard to give in?

You put your hands in your lap before returning them to your temples. His smile grows, and the static radiating off him grows ever so prominent, tickling your skin. You look up at him when you notice the change in the air.

The way he looks at you gives away his intentions. He is standing tall in his usual formal way in his seat, but his eyes are ever so casual. He gazes at you more than anything. His smile is still wide and prideful.

You wiggle a finger at him. "Ah."

He squints.

You continue, "You want to see me more, don't you?"

"Who wouldn't?" He plays off, shrugging. "Your captivating presence has every demon in hell dropping their jaws agape."

"Youuuuuu," you smile mischievously, "you want to see me more."

He continues to wave his hands. "Your accusations are futile, go ahead and fill your pretty head with things such as affection," his shoulders bounce as he chuckles, "dreams about how I miss you."

A breathless laugh leaves your lips. Rather than continue the teasing, you let the positive atmosphere linger in the air. You lift your chin with confidence. "Practically admitting it."

"I know what you want me from me." He signs. You smile at how he interpreted it. You don't bother responding. Instead, you give him a sly smile and lift your cup, taking another long sip; his bottom eyelid is twitching.

The last time he saw you, he signed you many compliments and even danced with you to the rhythm of your music. He let you put your hand on his face as he leaned his forehead against yours.

Admittedly, you only started teasing him because you wanted him to tell you that he missed you. Obviously, he did. You didn't expect him to be so stubborn about it.

When you don't respond, he continues. "When I'm here, your heart sings in happiness."

You nod and sign with one hand. "Very true."

"Well, I find the sound lovely."

"Very appreciated."

You watch as he leans back and crosses his legs, lifting and finishing the teacup. You both spend a few seconds without conversation, just looking at each other. In an attempt to hide how flustered you are starting to look, you lean your head back and gulp down the tea to the point where the cup is hiding your face. But you can only keep it in that position for a short time. After finishing the drink, you place it back down, finding that Alastor is already sitting with his fingers intertwined and waiting for you. His eyes sparkle.

"My dear, I missed you very much." And as quickly as the affection comes, it disappears. "I must give the little lady what she wants. There, are you happy?"

"I missed you too, Alastor. Thank you for coming up again."

Sappy, sappy, sappy. Will you agree to return to the hotel with him now?

He straights his bowtie and stands. "My dear, I'm afraid our time here will be cut short; I have a hotel to show you, don't I?"

You stay seated, just eyeing him. Peer pressure, you sigh and try not to roll your eyes. A simple nose exhaling is enough to show him how you feel.

He leans his head to the side. "Is there anything I can do to convince you?"

You finally stand and meet his eyes. His eyes are gorgeous; you love the way he looks at you. He doesn't take his eyes off you when you step close to him. Your hands reach for his overcoat, and you adjust it fruitlessly, only wanting an excuse to touch him.

You smile. "I can cook you something for your long trip back."

"Our."

"Your."

You both lean in, smiles straining.

He tries again. "Our."

"Biscuits, I assume," you turn your heels and motion for him to follow you. The motion you make is beckoning, and when you flick your wrist, he grabs it and pulls you into him. He lets you go to see your response. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You fall for people too easily. His touch is demanding, yet his face is calm, and with how close he is, all you can do is stare up at him. Your feet stumble a bit to adjust to your new stance. He will fight tooth and nail to get you to follow him back; throughout his days, he always wonders what you're doing and your music might sound like. He'll close his eyes and try to imagine the melody in moments of silence at the hotel.

You can't find yourself stepping back. "I'm perfectly okay with where I am." A lie. "Nobody will bother me if I'm out here."

"And nobody will bother you when you're next to me, get it?" After he signs, both of his hands hold your cheeks. He tilts your head back and forth to try and lighten the mood that's getting a little serious.

You try to hold his wrists and pull his hands down, but he fights against you. He lifts your face so he can look at you head-on. The waist bends his body; he curls himself up to you. Your touch falls to his sleeves and then moves to his biceps, your fingers grazing him gently.

The music is fast-paced, like your heart. It sounds almost angelic, a new ethereal sound surrounding it.

"Okay," you fold but then immediately chew on the inside of your lip.

"Perfect!" He presses his forehead to yours quickly before pulling away. He's taking this win. He turns and eyes the room, motioning. "Packing anything?"

With a small sigh of defeat, you place your hands on your temples again. What would you even need? Like a spoiled child, you realize that if you did need something in particular, Alastor would get it for you. You smiled and shook your head to yourself. "I don't think I need anything at all."

"Spectacular!" Another dramatic sign. "Come along then." The fast twirling of his staff blows air onto you when you start to walk behind him, eyeing how his fingers twist. His head turns as he glances at you from the corner of his eye, his head dipping as his smile widens. The static in the air becomes thicker.

You take a deep breath. If you can say 'I told you so' to him, you will be bringing it up until the end of time. He knows that, so it's good that he's confident in himself and his deductions. He'll ensure you won't be leaving and isolating yourself any longer.

#x deaf reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #x reader #if music be the food of love

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hayatoseyepatch · 1 month ago

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𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷: Nagi never made a big deal about the holidays, not something he had partaken in, but there was one tradition you had started with him that he could never resist. I mean what were the holidays without some sweets after all?

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻: Seishiro Nagi (Blue Lock)

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 2.3k

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼: Nagi x Fem!Reader 𝓒𝔀: Minor food play (icing), praise, use of petnames, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, marking, written with plus sized reader in mind.

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻’𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: Happy Holidays loves! This is my entry for the @pixelcafe-network's Secret Santa event as a present for @nagis-wife. The way I was so EXCITED to write this for you bambina I tried real hard to keep it a secret ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა Honestly Nagi was so much fun to write for and I hope you enjoy my love!

Nagi catches a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye, the subtle way your tongue pokes between plump lips, a total look of concentration decorating your features as you pipe a line of icing on the border of your gingerbread house. Nagi’s parents had taken the “hands off” approach to parenting, meaning the holidays were often not something to be made a big deal of with their constant travel. Christmas had not really been anything more than some presents arriving at the doorstep of his apartment. So even into his late twenties, as he was now, he had never made the most of the holiday. The most he got was a paper star that sat on top of his cactus with some string lights.

You, yourself, hadn’t been the most festive person in the world. But the idea of Nagi having never engaged in any holiday festivities pulled on even your grinchy heartstrings. Your family may not have had much, and maybe the most you had to look forward to on Christmas was the tradition of your mom’s pancakes, but you wouldn’t give that up for all the presents in the world knowing what you could have been missing out on. So here you both sat, fully decked out in festive attire at your dining room table decorating gingerbread houses. It had become a tradition for you both throughout the years of your relationship, a little competition of sorts. Feeding into his ego to have a friendly wager to who could make the best house.

It was almost comical to look over at your boyfriend, his white hair fully pulling together the Santa suit you insisted he wore for the evening. While you looked at him with mirth, he was looking at you with a hunger for more than the sweets scattered across the table. The short elf costume dress hugged your curves in a way he couldn’t simply disregard. His mouth all but watering as he let his gaze slide down your form. The elastic of the red and green striped thigh high socks that you wore rested against plump thighs, making the flesh at the top more accentuated in such a way it made his heart race in his chest.

“Shiro? You’ve barely touched your house, at this rate I’m gonna win!”

Your voice held a teasing edge, completely unaware of the war waging in Nagi’s mind, his self control hanging by a thread. His cookie house was barren in comparison to yours, him too distracted by the way your finger slipped past plush lips to clean some icing that had dripped onto your skin. His daze broken by the sound of your phone blaring with an alarm, notifying you both that the gingerbread men that had been baking, the final touches to your houses, were ready to be pulled from the oven. Nagi watched with rapt attention as you sauntered your way to the oven, your outfit swaying with your movements, lis tongue slipping past his lips to moisten the dry skin as you bent over to retrieve the cookies from the oven. Eyes locked on the subtle lift of your skirt revealing more of the delicate skin of your thighs, the same ones if he really focused, he could see the faded markings between them that his mouth had left a few nights prior.

As if on autopiliot, Nagi stood to his feet, stalking behind you in the kitchen. You couldn't help but notice the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes seemed to drink in every curve of your body.

"Those do smell amazing," he said, stepping closer to you. He leaned in behind you as if all at once, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke. "Almost as amazing as you look right now."

His hand brushed against your lower back, sending a shiver down your spine. You straightened up, turning to face him with a blush on your cheeks.

"Seishiro, they’re hot you cant have them they’re still hot.” you said, playfully swatting at his chest. "Now, let's decorate these babies. I have sprinkles and everything."

You said, a weak attempt to salvage your evening, knowing by the way his tone had dipped that the cookies were the last thing on his mind, You set the cookies on the counter with shaky hands as Nagi fully moved in behind you, his body pressed against your back effectively pinning you to the counter. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the strength in his arms as he reached around you to grab the icing bag that rested on the counter.

"I have a better idea," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Why don't we decorate each other instead?"

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers teasing the hem of your skirt. His large hands rested on your hips, turning you to face him. You gasped, your heart racing as you turned in his arms to face him. Your eyes met, the air between you charged with tension and unspoken desires. "Seishiro..." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What are you doing, Shiro?" He smiled at your response, lips curling in satisfaction at the tremble in your voice, his eyes dark with desire.

"What do you want me to do, princess?"

His hands reached up as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he leaned in closer, his lips just inches from yours. He can see it, the way your eyes drop to his lips. Can hear the way you swallow heavily in anticipation before he closed the gap separating you both. Nagi’s lips claim your own, his hand curling around the base of your neck to pull you even deeper into the embrace. The kiss was filled with need, desperation to feel your skin against his own. But this wasn’t a primal need, he felt it down to his molecules. He wanted you, needed to keep his hands on you, whether that was just in a simple holding of your hand or something more he couldn’t care less he just knew that he didn’t want you to slip through his fingers. Didn’t want to risk not feeling the euphoria of kissing your lips. It almost pulls a whine from his lips when you pull away, resisting the urge to surge forwards once more.

Hie eyes stared into your own as they fluttered open once more, hands slipping beneath your knees to perch you on the countertop, reaching behind you to grasp the bag of icing A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he used the other hand to guide your head back, exposing the delicate skin of o=your neck to him, piping a trail of icing along the column of your throat. Dipping his head down, he wastes no time letting his tongue follow the work he had just created. The sweetness of the icing combined with the taste of your skin had him rolling his eyes back. The feeling of your hand pushing the hat from his head as your fingers entangle themselves in his hair. Graning against your skin, Nagi laps up all of the sweetness that once coated your skin, trailing his lips down further, his free hand curling against the hem of the skimpy dress that concealed your breasts form the descent of his hungry mouth. Tugging down the fabric in one swift motion, he groans, pulling back to admire the exposed skin of your chest.

“So fucking beautiful, bunny.” He growls, eyes devouring you as lust swims in their stormy depths. He relishes in the way your nipples pebble due to the exposure to the cold air.

“And all fucking mine.”

As if to emphasize the sincerity of his words he brings the icing bag to the skin that lay right above your breasts, sloppily writing out the kanji of his name before tucking down and capturing a perked bud between his lips, tongue lolling against it, coming to a point to flick at the sensitive area before letting his teeth capture it. Pulling his head back to tug until releasing, pupils blows wide seeing the bounce of the plush flesh he was rewarded with. He was quick to give the other nipple the same treatment. Hands trailing from your ankles to your knees, forcing your legs apart further under his strong grip. He groans into your chest as he feels your hands on him hand making a trail up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the hood of your clit before rubbing slow agonizing circles against your drenched center. His lips pull from the swell of your breast kissing up a trail to your ear, making no move to touch the icing that marked your skin.

“I was gonna be a nice boyfriend and get you all prepped to take my cock, bunny.”

He groans, pushing your panties to the side and sliding two fingers past your entrance with ease, curling them in just the way he knows would have your back arching. “But with the way this greedy cunt is sucking in my fingers I don’t think I’ll even need to do that will I baby?”

His chuckle is deep and almost cruel in your ear, Nagi wasted no time pushing the band of his sweats down to his thighs, cock springing against his abdomen, twitching at your following words. He leans forward palm resting against the counter as he cages in your form. Using is other to grab his cock at the base, rubbing it past your slickened folds, swiping the mushroom tip up your slit collecting your wetness, not that he needed the aid to slide in, being sure to nudge your clit with each pass. Having had enough of his own teasing he slides into your opening. Head falling back deep groan stumbling from his lips With one roll of his hips he was buried to the base feeling your walls suffocating all of him, head falling to the crook of your neck as he groans.

“Fuck princess, she’s sucking me in so good, god this cunt was made for me wasn’t it baby?”

Now that he was sunk completely in hie gives an experimental snap of his hips, the resulting pleas falling from your lips guiding each motion of his hips. He picks up the pace, angling his hips just right to nudge your clit with his pelvis. His hands hook under your knees, pulling you toward him until your ass was hanging off the counter so he could lay you back. Taking advantage of the new angle, Nagi presses your knees to your chest. The deeper angle also allowing you to be even more exposed to his hungry gaze, eyes locked on where you both met. Mesmerized by the mouth watering sight of his cock disappearing inside of you with each passing surge of his hips. Groaning a long growl of your name and a slew of profanities as the sound skin against skin and the squelching wetness of your cunt fills the kitchen.

“You hear that princess? How wet my cunt is for me angel?”

His hips don't falter, he keeps up his speed, though each snap of his hips hitting deeper with each pass, angling his hips just right to find that sensitive spot deep inside your walls, grinning maliciously when he does so, stealing any response you could have formed from your lips. He removes one hand from your knee, thumb swiping some of the icing that dripped down your skin. Once coated, slotting itself between your lips, eyes rolling back when your tongue circles the digit instinctually. His eyes roll back as you look up into his own, making a show of cleaning the digit and effectively coating it in your saliva.

“So sweet Sei, fuck. Need more daddy please.”

The desperation laid in your tone is more than enough to inspire his movements, especially when spoken around the skin of his digit still lodged between your lips. He slides the finger from your mouth, using the coated wetness as lubrication to rub tight circles on your clit. Hips picking up pace in time with the kneading. His lips leave your throat capturing a sensitive nipple into his mouth, sucking on it harshly, aiming to overstimulate all of your sensitive spots in tandem. Nagi out a loud growl of your name as the drag of your nails incorporated pain into the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling. The coil had been tight in his abdomen, but he would hold out, he wouldn’t allow himself to fall over the edge before you had. He picks up the pace once more, thrusts growing sloppy under the pleasure. His thumb quickens its pace pressing harder against the bundle of nerves. Gon on princess, come for me wanna feel those pretty walls clamp down on my cock.

“Fuck, bunny, just like that princess… Go ahead, come for me angel, gonna fill this pussy so good baby, gonna have you dripping. Go on baby fucking.. come. for. me.”

He accentuates every word with a deep harsh snap of his hips. He groans loud and deep feeling your walls slam down on his cock eyes rolling back as whines and whimpers fall from his lips as your own release triggers his own. His body trembles violently as he topples over the edge painting your walls white. He slows his thrusts, body shaking as he overstimulates you both just a little bit before his hips finally still. He releases your legs, quick to readjust your form wrapping you around him pressing a long loving kiss to your lips. He grips your thighs in strong hands, carrying you with ease back to the couch, resting you against him. Fingers carding through your hair as you rest against his chest, pressing a loving kiss to the dip of your temple.

“So, did I win our little decorating contest, or do you think we need a rematch?”

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics & @/cafekitsune.

#blue lock #blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk imagines #nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi smut #nagi seishiro smut #seishiro nagi smut #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #nagi x reader #nagi blue lock #blue lock nagi #nagi x y/n #✐ᝰ. — samwrites

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goldsainz · 1 month ago

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# CL16 — SOUS LES ÉTOILES DE NOËL !

MASTERLIST !

SERIES MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ charles organizes a romantic christmas getaway at his place in the alps.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ none, just fluff!

003. NOTE !

✯ how are you guys liking the christmas specials so far? i’d love to receive some feedback 🫶

word count : 1,8k

The season had been long and grueling, with endless laps around the world’s most challenging circuits. For Charles, the weight of the year lingered in his weary smile as he sent the invitation—a simple text: "Come spend Christmas with me. I have a place in the Alps. Quiet, just us."

The idea of escaping to a secluded chalet in the French Alps was irresistible. You imagined the snowy peaks, the crackle of a fire, and Charles—a vision of peace and charm, unburdened by the pressures of his career. When you finally arrived, the chalet did not disappoint.

Nestled among towering pines, the wooden chalet exudes warmth. Its dark timber beams were wrapped in twinkling lights, and a wreath adorned the door. Inside, a crackling fire bathed the room in golden light. The air smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon, as if Christmas itself had taken residence here.

“Bienvenue,” he said softly when you arrived at the chalet, the rich timbre of his accent making the word feel like a gift in itself.

The interior of the chalet was just as inviting as its perfect exterior. Wood-paneled walls gave the space a rustic charm, while the roaring fire in the stone hearth filled the room with both warmth and a golden glow. Cozy blankets were draped over a large, overstuffed sofa, their textures inviting and soft. Pillows in festive patterns—reds, greens, and snowy whites—added a touch of holiday cheer. In the corner, a Christmas tree stood proudly, its branches adorned with ornaments that shimmered in the firelight.

The decorations were simple but thoughtful: glass baubles, wooden stars, and tiny bells that jingled faintly when you brushed past them. At the base, a few gifts wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine added an understated charm.

“It’s perfect,” you said, your voice filled with quiet awe as you took it all in.

“Not yet,” Charles replied, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “We haven’t had dinner.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and easy. The world outside felt distant, muffled by the thick snow blanketing the mountains and the quiet that seemed to envelop the chalet. The air inside was tinged with the faintest hints of cinnamon and pine, as if Christmas itself had settled into the space. It was as if time had slowed, and for the first time in months, you felt your shoulders relax, your worries dissipating in the tranquil beauty of it all.

The warmth of the chalet wrapped around you both like a cocoon, and Charles seemed just as content. His energy was different here—softer, more at ease. He moved through the space as though he belonged to it, a calm confidence replacing the quick, determined strides you were so used to seeing.

When dinner was ready, it was as comforting as the setting. Charles had gone all out, planning a classic réveillon feast; a French tradition that celebrated indulgence and connection. The dining table, positioned near a wide window overlooking the snowy expanse, was set simply but elegantly. A garland of evergreen branches ran down the center, interspersed with pinecones and tiny white candles in glass holders.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Charles teased, pouring you a glass of red wine, the deep ruby liquid catching the flickering candlelight.

“Starving,” you replied, watching the way the firelight danced in his green eyes.

The first course was a decadent foie gras served with freshly baked baguette, the crust still warm. Charles explained the best way to enjoy it, his enthusiasm lighting up his features.

Next came the main courses—a perfectly roasted goose surrounded by caramelized chestnuts, a creamy potato gratin with just the right amount of nutmeg, and a small mountain of buttered green beans. Each dish was presented with care, and Charles took the time to describe them, his voice filled with pride.

“And these cheeses,” he said as he placed a platter between you, “are from a local farm. The chèvre is incredible, but this one”—he pointed to a soft, creamy wheel—“is my favorite.”

Course after course appeared, each one somehow better than the last. Between bites, you watched Charles relax further, the lines of exhaustion on his face softening with each sip of wine, each shared laugh. He leaned back in his chair at times, his grin easy and boyish as he recounted a particularly funny story from his last race.

By the time dessert arrived—a slightly lopsided bûche de Noël—he was clearly pleased with himself.

“I helped with this one,” he said proudly as he set the chocolate yule log in the center of the table.

“Helped?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, your tone skeptical but amused.

“Well,” he admitted, his cheeks turning pink in the firelight, “I might’ve just added the powdered sugar. But still.”

You couldn’t stop smiling as you took a bite, the rich chocolate melting on your tongue. “It’s perfect,” you said, savoring the sweetness.

“Not as perfect as this,” he murmured, his gaze softening as it lingered on you.

The moment held a quiet intensity, the kind that didn’t need words to fill the silence. His subtle grin carried something deeper—gratitude, affection, and perhaps a touch of awe. The world outside the chalet seemed to fade away entirely, leaving only the two of you surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the gentle glow of Christmas.

When the clock neared midnight, Charles stood and reached out his hand. “Come with me,” he said, his tone filled with an almost childlike excitement. “I want to show you something.”

Intrigued, you slid your hand into his, the comforting strength of his grasp sending a rush of warmth through you. Together, you bundled into your coats and scarves, the wool soft against your skin. His touch lingered as he adjusted your scarf, his fingertips brushing your cheek. “There,” he said, satisfied, as if preparing you for a magical adventure.

The crisp night air embraced you as you stepped outside. Snowflakes fell gently, blanketing the world in white, their crystalline forms catching the faint light of the chalet behind you. The snow crunched beneath your boots with each step, the sound punctuating the serene quiet of the forest.

Charles led the way through the towering pines, their branches heavy with snow and glistening faintly under the starlight. The air was so still that every sound—the gentle whisper of the wind, the distant hoot of an owl, and the soft rhythm of his steps beside you—felt amplified, like a symphony composed solely for the two of you.

The clearing appeared almost suddenly, a wide expanse where the snow glittered like diamonds under the infinite sky. Above, the stars stretched endlessly, their brilliance untouched by city lights, casting a serene glow over the scene.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, as if anything louder would disturb the sanctity of the moment.

“It is,” Charles replied, though his eyes weren’t on the stars. They were fixed on you.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something small. The item, a leather notebook with edges slightly worn from use, looked humble yet meaningful in his hands. He extended it toward you, his expression a mixture of shyness and vulnerability, as though he were baring a part of his soul.

“What’s this?” you asked softly, running your fingers over the smooth, weathered cover before flipping it open.

“It’s something I’ve been working on,” he said, his voice a touch unsteady but sincere.

The first page held a date, neatly written, and a memory. As you flipped through the notebook, you realized it was filled with moments—days spent laughing over coffee, late nights talking about your dreams, even quiet instances when words weren’t necessary. Each entry was written in his handwriting, neat yet personal, and infused with a warmth that made your chest ache.

“I started writing these when I realized how much they mattered to me,” Charles said, his gaze dropping momentarily to the snow at his feet. “Sometimes, it’s hard to say everything out loud. But I didn’t want to forget any of it. And I wanted you to know.”

Your breath hitched as you turned the pages, each one revealing more of his heart, his care, his love. The notebook wasn’t just a collection of memories; it was a testament to how deeply he cherished your time together.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your voice trembling under the weight of emotion.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, stepping closer until his warmth enveloped you. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing gently against your cheeks. The snow fell softly around him, clinging to his dark hair and framing his face in a way that made him seem ethereal under the starlight. His green eyes held yours, filled with an intensity that stole the words from your lips.

When he kissed you, it was unhurried and tender, as if time itself had paused to witness the moment. The world around you disappeared, leaving only the sensation of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch, and the silent promise written in the stars above.

As he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His breath mingled with yours in the cold air, and his voice, thick with emotion, broke the silence. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his words carrying the weight of everything he felt.

“Merry Christmas,” you replied, your heart so full it felt as if it might burst.

Hand in hand, you made your way back to the chalet, the notebook clutched tightly to your chest. The fire had dwindled into glowing embers, casting a soft, golden light across the room as you both settled onto the sofa. Charles wrapped a blanket around you, his arm pulling you close to his side.

The notebook rested in your lap, its pages heavy with meaning. You ran your fingers over the edges, the leather warm from your touch. “I can’t believe you did this,” you said, your voice soft with wonder.

He tilted his head to look at you, his expression unguarded and tender. “I wanted you to know how much you mean to me. Even when I’m far away, you’re always here,” he said, his hand brushing lightly over your heart.

As the flames crackled softly and the scent of pine lingered in the air, you leaned into his embrace, feeling a peace you hadn’t known in months. The world beyond the mountains felt distant, insignificant compared to the quiet perfection of this moment.

The snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the chalet in serenity. Under the stars of Christmas, everything felt complete, as though the universe itself had conspired to create this magical evening just for the two of you.

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daycourtofficial · 1 year ago

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Sweet Dreams of Holly and Ribbon

Summary: you teach the Inner Circle about your home court’s tradition of mistletoe, and someone begins placing them all around the house to catch you underneath them.

Author’s note: this is heavily inspired by Operation Mistletoe by Wkemeup, so feel free to check that out.

“So you just hang them up so you can what- make out with people all the time?” Mor asks, confusion etched on her face as she takes a sip of her wine.

“Sounds awesome,” Cassian says, taking another bite of porridge.

You sigh, “well you don’t really do it to just make out with people,” sending a pointed glare at Mor. “Previous people viewed it as sacred for it’s healing properties, and many view it as a symbol of fertility. It’s only really grown in the Winter Court, but it’s a fun reminder of who we come from.”

Rhys leans forward, “I’m still confused about the kissing thing, I get using it as decor, I suppose. But why kissing?”

“Like I said,” you say, taking a bite of your cereal, “since it survives the winter and blooms during it; many view it as a sign of prosperity and fertility, so maybe people started kissing under it to prompt further fertility.”

Cassian huffs, “you just made sex sound so boring.”

You roll your eyes and point at Cassian, “you’re the one who asked me about winter court traditions for solstice!”

He glares at you, “yeah, well I was hoping you’d tell me you all jump in the lake naked every year.”

You laugh, “oh so you’ve heard of the polar bear plunge?”

Cassian stills, turning his head to look at you with incredible speed. “So you do do it!”

“Well, I don’t,” you say, picking up your glass to drink, “at least, not anymore.” You say with a wink.

Azriel speaks up, his soothing tone taking over the room. “So if you’re caught under the plant, you have to kiss?”

“It’s bad luck not to. You don’t have to kiss on the lips, most people kiss on the cheek or on the forehead.”

You woke up the next morning, coming down the stairs, clinging to the robe wrapped around your nightgown.

Coffee, then getting dressed. That was your plan, after all. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, a big perk to living with early risers being that there’s always coffee ready when you roll out of bed.

You start moving for the doorway to the dining room, to see if anyone is eating so you can say hi, when something catches your eye.

Right above you in the doorway is a sprig of mistletoe, tied together in a bundle with a red ribbon, hanging from the doorway.

You look at it, just as pretty as they are in your memories, the vibrance of the green capturing your attention, when you hear shuffling behind you. You go to turn to see who it is, when a large hand envelops the right side of your face, bringing your left cheek into contact with something.

Not something, someone. Someone’s kissing you on the cheek. Before you can process what’s happening, the warmth that was pressed against you is gone, and Azriel comes striding into view.

“Good morning,” he says nonchalantly, walking out of the dining room, nodding to Feyre as he passes her and out of the house.

You whip your head around to see if anyone else witnessed what just happened, and you see Feyre sitting at the table, a spoonful of porridge stuck midway between the bowl and her mouth.

“Did you- did that - see?” You ask, your flustered state making Feyre giggle in amusement. You bring your hand up to your cheek where he had pressed his lips to you.

You wrote it off as him getting caught up in the idea of mistletoe, until a few days later when you were heading into the library. Your head was down, trying to focus on not sliding since your shoes were still wet from the rain. You look up in time to keep yourself from running face first into someone’s chest.

You reach your arms out to steady yourself against them, apologizing for running into them, until you look up and find Azriel’s amused eyes looking back at you. You look above him, seeing he has run into you right underneath the mistletoe.

“We have to stop running into each other like this,” you joke, as you motion with your finger for him to come closer. You stand on your tiptoes, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him on his left cheek, perhaps lingering a bit longer than you should. Breathing in his piney scent one last time, you pull back, letting him continue on his day.

That night the entire group went out to Rita’s, attempting to have some fun despite the busy season. It seems like these days all of you are working double time to ensure you can keep the day of Solstice free from work.

All of you head upstairs to your private room, just large enough for your group to comfortably lounge about. Azriel stays behind, waiting for a tray of shots to take up the stairs. You decide to stay with him, opting to keep him company while he waits. You would offer to help him carry the drinks, however the shadowsinger’s height allowed him to manuever through the crowd with the tray much more swiftly than you could.

“Is all your solstice shopping done, then?” You ask the shadowsinger, knowing he most likely had finished his shopping months ago.

He flashes you a grin, one he reserves only for you. “Mostly, just little odds and ends left.”

You gasp, “As I live and breathe, Azriel hasn’t finished his solstice shopping? It’s a week away- you’re usually finished by September!”

He rolls his eyes at your playfulness. “There’s one gift left I’ve been waiting for - I just have to go pick it up.”

He leans his left arm against the counter, his body facing the room surveying the area.

“Who’s it for?” You ask, trying not to get too flustered at how close his body is to yours.

He leans in closer to your ear, as he whispers, “Beron.”

He laughs, pulling away from you. You try not to let the disappointment of the loss of his warmth show on your face.

You huff and cross your arms, “fine then, keep your secrets.”

“What about you?” He asks, nudging your foot with his, “any last minute shopping to do?”

You went through the gifts you had bought for everyone, very impressed with some of them. You got Nesta an advanced copy of the next Sellyn Drake novel, some enchanted canvases that allow multiple paintings on them, showing them like a moving picture for Feyre, a hand knit sweater from Winter for Rhys, an exquisite wall mirror for Mor.

Yet you couldn’t figure out what to get the male in front of you. Do you go with simple, so he doesn’t think you tried too hard? Or do you go all out, lay all of your feelings for him out there?

Before you can answer, the bartender presents Azriel with the tray of shots, so you lead him through the crowd of people, walking up the stairs.

You go to turn around and make a comment about how unfair it is that he can manuever through the crowd so easily, when you feel him gently place a hand on your upper arm, sliding down, lifting your hand up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.

Your cheeks heat immediately, as he lets go of your hand, pointing above the two of you, where someone has crudely hung a mistletoe plant above the top of the staircase.

He smiles at you, “tradition, right?“ before sauntering into the room to boisterous cheers that the alcohol has arrived.

The next few days pass and more and more mistletoe made appearances. You found yourself running into Azriel underneath them, wondering if he was catching anyone else under them.

Rhys was grumbling about his house being ruined by the plants, crudely hung by a nail from doorways, arches, balconies, really any surface, but the rest of you seemed to enjoy them.

Azriel wasn’t the only one you ran into underneath them, having run into Cassian a few times, who loved making a big show of it whenever you two were caught under one.

“Oh, sweetheart! We’re caught under the mistletoe! Whatever will we do?” He dramatically, and quite loudly, said to you one morning.

“Good morning Cassian,” you say, as he wraps his arms around you, planting an overly dramatic kiss to your cheek.

He pulls away, letting you go, starting to walk off, but he turns around and smirks while looking somewhere behind you before he’s gone. You look around, but can’t find anyone nearby.

You weren’tt the only one caught under the plant, with most members of the inner circle caught once or twice underneath the plant. You had caught a glimpse of Elain and Lucien underneath one, turning on the spot to provide them with some privacy.

You got caught under it with Nesta, who kissed you on the lips like her life depended on it. The kiss caused Mor to wolf whistle at you two, and Cassian had to pry Nesta off of you after he felt like it was lasting too long.

But it was mostly Azriel, him always catching you when you’re walking through a threshold where the mistletoe is dangling. He had kissed your forehead, your hands, the top of your head, but usually it was on your cheeks, and as much as you enjoyed the kisses, each time you secretly hoped he’d kiss you on the lips.

Rhys sighs, walking into the living room to find that Azriel and Cassian have already been by here, the room covered in mistletoe. From his beautiful crystal chandelier (a delicate heirloom, he grumbles), to the doorways where they’re crudely hung (those nails will leave holes!), to the ones hanging from the ceiling (really?), Rhys is tired of the plant.

The fresh scent of it coats the room, as he walks towards his mate and hangs his head in her shoulder. “What did I do to deserve this?” He grumbles to her.

She giggles, closing her book, “come on, it’s only a few more days, Azriel has some plan cooked up.”

His grip on her loosens, his body going even more slack against her, “yes but why does my house have to suffer for it?”

She coos, stroking his hair as he pouts.

“I think it’s romantic. Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining when I caught you under one last night.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, as Rhys begins kissing her neck.

As if he summoned them, Cassian and Azriel come back through, holding massive bags of mistletoe.

“I’m just saying, Az, you’re going through a lot of effort. I say you just plant one on her.” The general says, shrugging.

Azriel rolls his eyes at his brother, “Not everyone is wooed by someone just ‘planting one on them’.” He replies, using finger quotes at the end.

Cassian sets down his bag as a grin overtakes his face, “so you are trying to woo her.”

Azriel gives him a look that would terrify a lesser man.

“Considering the effort he’s going through, Cass, it’s quite obvious what he’s trying to do,” Rhys responds, “even though he’s ruining my house to accomplish it for a girl who looks at him like he created the night sky.”

Feyre tuts at Rhysand, as he straightens off of her. “Well, I find it sweet, Az. And this is my house too, so continue on.”

Azriel smiles at his high lady, grabbing Cassian’s bag of mistletoes as he walks out, blatantly ignoring Rhys and Feyre’s intense staring at each other as they are obviously arguing telepathically.

You had left for the day before Solstice to return to Winter to drop off some gifts, but hurried back to Night to be able to spend all day Solstice with your new family. You returned to find the house a green chaotic mess, with mistletoe hanging everywhere. Dozens and dozens of sprigs sprouting from the ceiling, almost looking like a garden on the ceiling.

You can’t find Azriel anywhere, unsure of where he’s gone off to. You actually get caught under a mistletoe with both Rhys and Feyre, each of them kissing you on the cheek, Rhys muttering something about not letting live plants in the house anymore as he pulls away.

You eventually retire to your room, deciding if you can’t find the spymaster, you’ll take a nap to prepare for the evening’s festivities. It’s the night before Solstice, and everyone seems to usually spend the days leading up to the holiday drinking their asses off.

Later that evening, after you took a glorious nap, a nice bath, and spent a while getting dressed and ready, you went up to Azriel’s door, knocking softly on the wood.

He opens the door after a moment, taking longer than he usually does, and he smiles down at you, his build taking up the entire doorframe.

“Hey Az, can you come to my room for a sec? I need your help.”

He nods, closing his door behind him, following you across the hall into your room. You open your door, letting him into your space, and shut it behind him. “What did you need help with?”

You pull out the box you had been holding behind your back, presenting it to him. “Open it,” you tell him, putting it in his hands.

The tips of his ears redden, “aren’t we exchanging gifts later?”

You smile, “yeah, but I wanted you to open this one now.” He undoes the ribbon on the box, opening the lid to find a piece of parchment. He sets the box down on your nightstand, standing up straight to unroll the parchment.

Neatly written in your handwriting are the words “Look up”. He does as the parchment says, looking towards the high ceiling of your room to find a small mistletoe hanging directly above the two of you.

“Happy Solstice,” you say, grabbing his shirt and bringing him towards you. You stand on your tip toes, bringing his face into yours.

At your words, Azriel swears he forgets how to breathe, much less think, as your lips cover his. You taste like cookies and coffee, a taste he wants to get lost in when he realizes he hasn’t moved, standing still like a complete buffoon.

He wraps his arms around you, deepening the kiss. He causes you to lean back, dipping you as he deepens the kiss.

When he pulls away, his eyes aglow with joy and humor, he reaches beside himself, pulling something from the shadows.

“If you’d like to open your gift,” he tells you.

You unwrap the wrapping paper, opening the box inside containing another sprig of mistletoe. You laugh, but Azriel starts speaking.

“I asked Kallias to bless it. It is an immortal sprig now. I just picked it up this morning from winter.”

He fidgets with his hands, a little worried this gift isn’t as great as he thought it was. “It’s a little piece of home to have year-round. I know how much you love Solstice.”

You smile up at him, “I love it,” and kiss him again.

He pulls back, obviously needing to tell you something. “Um- it was me, all the mistletoe around the house and everywhere we went.” He raises his hands to gesture all around. “Well it was mostly me, but Cassian helped a bit.”

He sighs, “he caught me one night, hanging them up. Nosy bastard,” you giggle. “So he insisted he help, then big blabbermouth told Rhys and Feyre.”

You laugh, appreciating how much effort he truly went to to do this.

“So I may or may not have been sitting in my shadows all week, waiting by mistletoes for you to walk by.”

Your jaw slackens at his admission, but before you can say anything, he continues. “Cassian beat me a few times when I was about to come out and kiss you. He’d gloat all night about it.”

The shadowsinger rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics.

“But what about the one at Rita’s? How did you do that one?” You ask, confusion lacing your voice. “I was with you the moment we walked in.”

He smiles, a shadow coming by you holding a sprig of mistletoe. “They can’t resist if I ask them to do something for you.”

You throw your head back to laugh, but he wraps a hand around your neck, capturing your laugh with his lips.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #acotar fanfiction #azriel fluff

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yelenasdiary · 2 months ago

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I dont know why i cant get this idea out of my head

But i’d love to just read fluffy soft wholesome fic

Of Artist yelena and her girlfriend decorating For Christmas in their house

Because of yelena being an artist she comes up with this crazy fun cute idea on how to decorate the house for Christmas for her and her girlfriend to do together

It wont be like your typical Christmas colours it be super colourfull like different coloured lights to go on the tree or round the house and stuff

(Please let me know if this request makes sense and if you do it please just like dm me)

~👀

A Merry Kaleidoscope Christmas

Pairing: Artist! Yelena Belova x GN! Reader

Summary: You and Yelena decorate the house for Christmas without the traditional Christmas vibes.

Fluff

Warnings: None, if I missed any, please let me know | 1.1K

AC: Thank you for sending this! It made me miss Painter! Yelena hehe, I hope you enjoy! x

Holiday Special Masterlist

Dating an artist always came with the holidays being bigger and full of so much creativity and that’s exactly how you found your girlfriend, staring blankly at the white wall of the living room, her mind racing with multiple ideas for decorations and layouts to turn the home into a Christmas wonderland.

“What are you thinking?” You asked softly, knowing she was deep in thought with the way her eyes squinted ever so slightly with a tilt of her head, her ideas were flowing.

“This year, we’re not going to do that traditional red and green colours. This year, I’m thinking big, bright and colourful!” She replied, nodding to herself as the images in her mind started to come together. “Have you ever looked through a kaleidoscope before?” She asked.

“I have” you said, slightly unsure of what ideas your girlfriend had.

“When you walk into our home, I want it to feel like you’re looking through a kaleidoscope! We’ll make homemade decorations and use every colour we can think of, every room is going to be so festive!” She beamed with excitement, her eyes brightened at the thought which brought a smile to your face.

“Sounds interesting! I’m in!”

“We should probably head to the crafts store then” Yelena turned to you, smiling softly.

The craft store was nothing more than a toy store to your girlfriend who filled the cart with bright colored paints, sequins, paper, glitter, some DIY ornaments to make the job a little easier and plenty of other craft items you were sure she would find a use for. Her enthusiasm only grew with every item she placed in the cart, leaving you to be swept up in her infectious energy.

Once home, the first thing you guys did was start to decorate the Christmas tree. Yelena wrapping an array of neon lights around the green branches before you would wrap a different range of neon colored tinsel around the tree. Then it was on to the ornaments. Together, you painted and glittered the rounds of clear glass, creating a breathtaking range of different bursts of color. You watched as Yelena would pour so much creativity in her craft, perfecting everything to a tee! You helped cut out different shapes from the range of colored paper, gluing them together over shared laughs and a paper ball fight. “I think this is the best Christmas tree we’ve had!” You complimented as you took a step back to admire the Christmas tree in all its bright and colorful beauty.

“We need one last touch” Yelena said as she pulled out a tiny, handcrafted paper banner that read ‘Merry Christmas’, she looked at you with her soft loving eyes, “would you help me jazz this up a little?”

“What do you think? An overload of glitter to make it pop?” You asked making Yelena chuckle lightly, “okay my little mind reader, how did you know?”

You playfully shrugged, “I might have seen you eyeing up the rest of the glitter”

Yelena shook her head as she placed the banner on the dining table while you grabbed the bottle of glue. “Thank you for trusting my crazy vision, I like to change it up sometimes” Yelena said in an almost whisper.

“Darling, I think all your crazy visions are perfect” you smiled, reaching for the purple glitter to sprinkle over the letter M, “I always look forward to what ideas you will come up on holidays like these and besides, I like not following the traditional theme sometimes… they can be tacky” you added. Yelena’s heart glowing with love at your words, “let’s make this a tradition then! No more boring and tacky Christmas themes! We’ll do it even bigger and better each year” she replied with a growing smile and her artistic mind racing with even more ideas for next year’s Christmas.

“I love that! But let’s just focus on this year first” you said, bringing her back to the now, “now let’s finish making this glitter mess” you added with a playful chuckle.

As the day turned to night and snow began to fall, you and Yelena found yourselves snuggled up in the warmth of the firepit, wrapped in the most colorful Christmas throw blanket that Yelena could find. Her arms wrapped lovingly around you, your head resting comfortably on her chest while she ran her fingers through your short hair. “Merry kaleidoscope Christmas love” you whispered softly, sinking into the love that filled the room.

Yelena, smiling softly, “Merry kaleidoscope Christmas indeed, I think we definitely accomplished that goal” she chuckled as she looked around the room. The soft glow from the neon fairy lights mixed with the shine of the fire’s flame lit the room perfectly, all the bright colors coming to life like the two of you were living inside of an actual kaleidoscope. Yelena, being the artist she was, couldn’t wait to show off all the wonderful arts and crafts you both had done.

Yelena knew that this was only the beginning of their artistic adventures with you, and she couldn’t wait to make more memories with you. She placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, “I couldn’t have done of this if it weren’t for you, my muse”

You looked up at her, already getting lost in her eyes, “I love being a part of your big, colour and crafty world, if anything you’re my muse” You smiled softly before she pressed her lips against yours, kissing you deeply like she always did. “I can’t wait to spend many more Christmases with you” she whispered, admiring the way your cheeks filled with love, “and to spend every other holiday with you, doing it our way” she added.

“I can’t wait either, the neighbourhood kids are going to love easter and Halloween!” You beamed.

“I love this…everything, I mean that” Yelena replied.

You couldn’t help but admire how the twinkling fairy lights sparkled in her eyes, “I love you so much” she added softly, feeling just how much love she truly had for you. Waking up by your side each morning, coming home to you, sharing her creative mind with you whenever she had a burst of creativity, and you loved her for all of it.

“You make every moment magical, my love, I love too” you smiled once more before diving in to kiss her again. Her arms tightened around you, not wanting to let any part of this moment slip away. With one moment at a time, the two of you would create a lifetime of love and creative magic.

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

#yelenasdiary asks #👀 anon #fanfiction #yelena belova #marvel #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #fluffmas #christmas

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burntsecrets · 3 months ago

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Cozy Vibes and Apple Pie 🥧

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1171

Summary: Sam and you celebrate your anniversary by spending the day doing all the fall activities you can.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mild horror themes, mild language, jump scares, mention of supernatural elements

The piercing shriek of the alarm clock startled you from your slumber. You rolled over, your brain on autopilot, and smacked your hand on the alarm clock until it stopped its programmed morning annoyance. Exasperated, you flopped back onto the bed and stretched. It was then that you realized there wasn’t a warm body beside you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in Sam’s absence.

While it was true that Sam was an early riser, he wasn’t supposed to be awake yet. Today was the first of October, and he was breaking your anniversary tradition by not being in bed with you.

“Sam?” you call out, your voice still thick with sleep.

No response. The silence of the underground bunker stretches unnaturally, making you feel a little lonely. You throw the covers off and pad barefoot across the cool floor, tugging on one of Sam’s flannel shirts over your sleep clothes. As you wander through the bunker’s winding halls, you catch a faint whiff of something familiar—cinnamon and coffee.

You follow the scent to the kitchen, where you find Sam standing at the counter, his broad back turned to you as he pours hot coffee into two mugs. A small smile tugs at your lips as you lean against the doorway, watching him. He’s already dressed, his hair a little messy, a few pieces falling across his forehead.

“Breaking tradition, Winchester?” you tease, crossing the room toward him.

He turns, his face lighting up with a soft smile that always makes your heart skip a beat. “Thought I’d surprise you,” he says, holding out a mug. “Pumpkin spice latte… homemade.”

You raise an eyebrow, impressed. “You’re really embracing the fall vibes, huh?”

He chuckles, handing you the warm mug. “Well, it is our tradition. Coffee first, then sleeping in—right?” He pulls you in close with his free arm, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The familiar scent of Sam—leather, books, and something earthy—mixes with the spices of the season, grounding you in the moment.

“Mmm, you’re forgiven,” you murmur against his chest. “But only because this smells amazing.”

The two of you sit at the long dining table, the warm glow of the bunker’s kitchen lights wrapping around you like a blanket. As you sip your drinks, you both chat about the day ahead—the plans you’d made months ago. The first of October always meant cozy fall activities, starting with sleeping in, but Sam’s eager spirit had other ideas.

“We can still sleep in tomorrow,” he says, an amused glint in his eye.

You find yourselves in a nearby pumpkin patch a little later in the morning. The crisp October air brushes against your cheeks, and the leaves overhead flutter in shades of red, gold, and orange. Sam walks beside you, his large hand wrapped around yours, warm and reassuring. A breeze rustles through the corn stalks that line the edges of the patch as you both scour the rows for the perfect pumpkins.

“This one’s too small,” you say, holding up a tiny pumpkin and making a face. “It’s cute, though.”

Sam laughs, leaning down to inspect it. “You said you wanted cute decorations for the bunker.”

You smirk. “I want cute and impressive.”

He playfully nudges you with his elbow and gestures toward a massive pumpkin further down the row. “How about that one? It’s big enough to be both.”

Your eyes widen at the size. “How are you even going to carry that thing?”

Sam shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Super strength, remember?”

You laugh, watching him effortlessly hoist the pumpkin over his shoulder, his grin boyish and proud. “Show-off.”

The rest of the afternoon is filled with more cozy autumn traditions. You make your way through a corn maze, where Sam takes the lead, but you manage to beat him to the exit by sneaking through a shortcut. The two of you carve pumpkins back at the bunker, the table covered in newspapers and the scent of roasted pumpkin seeds filling the air. The soft hum of classic rock plays in the background, courtesy of Dean’s extensive vinyl collection.

Later that night, you’re curled up on the couch in the bunker’s media room with Sam, a stack of horror movies on the coffee table in front of you. The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the glow of the TV and the string of orange fairy lights you’d strung up earlier in the week. You’ve got a cozy blanket draped over both of you, and Sam’s arm is around your shoulders, pulling you close.

Just as you’re about to hit play on the first movie, the door to the room swings open, and Dean strides in, holding a six-pack of beer in one hand and a pie box in the other.

“Well, if it isn’t the sappy lovebirds,” Dean announces with a smirk. “I knew you two were gonna be holed up in here.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Dean, what are you doing here?”

“Crashing your little date night, obviously.” He drops the pie and beer on the table and plops down on the other side of the couch, making himself comfortable. “You didn’t think I’d let you watch all the good horror movies without me, did you?”

Sam sighs, but there’s a playful grin on his face as he hands Dean a beer. “Figured you’d show up at some point.”

Dean’s eyes narrow as he opens the beer. “Oh, and I brought pie. Apple. You’re welcome.”

You can’t help but laugh as Dean makes himself at home, jabbing fun at you and Sam between bites of pie and sips of beer. It’s not long before the three of you are engrossed in the horror movie marathon, the room filled with the flickering light of the screen, the sound of jump scares, and Dean’s constant commentary.

“So, which one of you is gonna scream first?” Dean teases as the music in the movie grows tense, signaling an upcoming scare.

“I’d be more worried about you, Dean,” Sam shoots back, his arm tightening around you.

You smile, leaning into Sam’s side, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. Despite Dean’s teasing, you feel content—wrapped up in the coziness of the moment, the fall traditions, and the people you care about most.

As the night goes on, the three of you continue your movie marathon, pie plates empty and beer bottles scattered across the table. Dean eventually drifts off to sleep, snoring softly on the couch, and you glance up at Sam, who’s still wide awake, his eyes fixed on the screen but his hand tracing lazy circles on your shoulder.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispers, his voice low and warm in your ear.

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his jawline. “Happy anniversary, Sam.”

With Dean snoozing away and the horror movie playing in the background, you couldn’t imagine a better way to end the night—cozy, content, and exactly where you belong.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #creative writing #fanfic #writerscorner #writerslife #writersofinstagram #writing prompt #writer struggles #spndaily #spn fanfic #spnfandom #spnfanficpond

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deathbypufferfish · 2 years ago

Text

It's finally done cooking, my sims gameplay ideas list! After scouring all types of sites, generators, lists, and my brain for ingredients, I've come up with a list stew that hopefully will spark some inspiration for your sims gameplays!

This non exhaustive list consists of ideas that are applicable to sims gameplay/things to do in-game. AKA things that can be played out in the sims or half pretended. If you're looking for less-gameplay story ideas, I recommend my story/conflict idea list. Most of the conflict and love ideas are on that list. Please feel free to send asks to add to the gumbo! Just note in your ask that it's for the gumbo and keep it applicable/feasible for gameplay. (To keep the post from getting too long I'll make a contributor list into a compressed image later on for those who send off-anon.)

If you are looking for more complex, in-game story ideas check out the Story Soup list here!

🍲 Gumbo below the cut! ⬇

Single Sim Gameplay:

Learn an instrument

Learn a new skill

Start a seashell collection (Island Living)

Have a sim get a bad haircut

Enroll an Adult/Elder sim in university

Use a skill you don’t usually play with

Become a mountain climber

Build a Servo

Take care of local strays

Use more likes/dislikes

Conflict:

Drop out of or fail university

Drop out or fail out of highschool

Talk badly about another sim in your house to other sims

Sim loses their job

Failed retail business

Family:

Foster a child

Parties for children

Have a baby shower

Have a slumber party

A grandparent/other family member moves in with your main household

Have a specific family holiday tradition besides the in-game ones

Family bike rides

Game night

Parent trains child in their sport

Family hikes at Granite Falls

Family volunteering

Bake sale (entrepreneur table)

Have a family photoshoot

Have teens study at the library

Have your teen go through a bad fashion phase

Host an exchange student

Make school picture day photos (Teen poses, children poses)

Have an arts & crafts day

Go fishing as a family

Have a specific weekly meal (spaghetti night, a fancy meal)

Make ice cream together (Cool Kitchen Stuff)

Wear matching pajamas for holidays

Have a bake off

Play with voidcritters (Kids Room Stuff)

Granola family (camping, hiking, low tech, simple living)

Play in a multi-generational household

Adopt

Family reunion

Unexpected baby

Have siblings share a room

Social/Activities:

Sports party night (e.g. watching the superbowl, world cup, etc)

Start a book club (with clubs)

Have a themed kids birthday party (Here’s a helpful website for ideas)

Have a potluck (buffet tables)

Garden party

Neighborhood party

Neighborhood holiday decorating contest

Host a haunted house in your home

Picnic

Barbeque party

Go to the arcade

Go regularly to restaurants (Dine Out Reloaded Mod to make restaurants tolerable)

Have an out of control party (maybe a teen party)

Go camping

Go to an Ice skating rink/roller skating rink

Spa day (at home or at a spa)

Make an army of snowpals

Movie night

Stargazing night/camp out in the backyard

Weekly bowling night

Museum trip

Karaoke night at home

Campfire night

Pool day

Weekly meetups with friends at a cafe

Try on wedding dresses with a bridal party

Have someone stay over (Growing Together)

Love:

Hook up with a service sim

Have a vacation romance

Have a “meet the parents” moment

Have an affair

Divorce

Marital fight

Rejected proposal

Throuple/Open Relationship (Open Love Life Mod)

Left at the altar

Use fear of commitment, jealous, or unflirty trait

Create a rocky marriage

Challenges:

Spend too much money on a vacation

Play with lot challenges

Use simple living (only cook with ingredients and do grocery orders)

Don’t clean up after sims (don’t drag plates, laundry, trash)

Use the Reduce and Recyle lot challenge for realism

Use the Filthy lot challenge to make cleaning harder

Lose a large sum of money

Randomize your sims’ traits as they age up

Household:

Have puppies and kittens

A serious house fire (either with cheating or with fireworks. There is also a mod for more intense fires here

Spring cleaning

Garage sale

Visit houses before you move into them

Create a storage room/attic (Eco Living boxes, Discover University chest, toy chest, treasure chest etc) Use this for old heir’s items if you are playing a legacy

Start a garden (herb, vegetables)

Renovate the house

Watch what your pets are doing

Adopt a stray animal

Teach your pets tricks

Upgrade objects

Have a home bar/rec room

Go on a vacation

Play with roommates (additionally have them be odd, difficult, or a romance option)

Have an always messy home

Hire a live-in butler

Hire a regular maid

Location:

Play in a sustainable community on one of the islands/isolated areas. (community farm, community space, homes)

Play in a tiny home (Tiny Living)

Play in a haunted house residential (Paranormal Stuff)

Become an Archaeologist. Live in Sulani and regularly visit Selvadorado for work

Career/Business:

Bookstore

Art gallery: sell your paintings or buy them off Plopsy/Buy Mode

Bakery

Play a career you don’t usually play

Winter sports store in Mt. Komorebi

Own a farmstand for your produce (Eco Lifestyle entrepreneur table) You can even build a small building for it on your property!

Pet supplies store

Plant store

Tourist gift shop

Mattress/Bed store

Florist shop (Flower Arranging Skill)

Juicery (Juice Fizzing Skill)

Yoga studio (host classes at a retail business or at a home studio)

Start a Bed and Breakfast/AirBnB with the roommate system

Become a celebrity in a path besides Actor/Actress (Author, Chef, Video Creator, Skier, etc.)

Food truck (Restaurant)

Fish stall (Entrepreneur table)

Make a living on Plopsy

Wool store (Cottage Living)

Natural health store (Herbalism)

Resources Used

ADAM DRIVER GIF DISCLAIMER: YES I KNOW IT'S A STEW

#the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 resource #simblr #sims 4 #ts4 inspo #sims 4 ideas #ts4 ideas #ts4 gameplay #puffer's gameplay gumbo #sorry there isnt a good stew gif my bad #i picked gumbo because it starts with a g #it could be a fucking lasgana i dont care #also addition asks to sections with less ideas are most welcome

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1d1195 · 2 years ago

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Traditional IV

Nothing like being quarantined in June of 2023 to get a little timely writing done. I hope you enjoy this part, I feel like it's moving a little too slowly but I promise I have some pretty good plans and I hope you'll find it's worth the wait.

Accidentally a little close to 6K words, whoops. Read the rest here: Traditional

She simply didn’t believe that Harry liked her like that. There was no way. He simply paid her to be around, and he worried about her the way someone worries about their car...or their expensive electronics. “No way.”

She took a deep breath as the driver stopped in front of Harry’s home. It was her first time here and while she thought Harry had been nothing but a gentleman over the last month, she also knew this was his home and that meant it was his rules. Added to the fact that Niall touched her (albeit in a friendly way), she thought she might not make it out of here.

She opened the car door and started up the pathway to the front door. The only time Harry ever let her open her own door was when he wasn’t around. For the evening she decided on her favorite pair of black jeans. They were stretchy and comfy despite being jeans. They went with everything too. And instead of a zipper there were just three buttons. Per her personality, she didn’t think she looked good in much, but these were all but magic jeans that (objectively) made her butt look good. She paired the good jeans with a plain bright blue T-shirt. Nothing special. Harry said dress comfortably.

She knocked twice on the door swallowing a lump in her throat.

It was as if Harry was waiting by the door because her hand hadn’t even made its way back to her side. She released a breath she was holding as Harry smirked at her. “Hey beautiful,” he hummed sweetly. The idea that a man as gorgeous as Harry Styles looked at her jeans and t-shirt ensemble and still called her beautiful was enough to make her pass out. He didn’t seem the same bit as irritated as he was earlier. Maybe she wouldn’t get an earful after all.

“Hi.”

“Y’nervous?” He asked.

She nodded. “Very.”

“Y’know you’re supposed t’be nervous because m’your boss’s boss not because of this. This was my choice.”

“Both were your choice.”

“I already told you, love, Niall picked you,” she twitched very slightly at Niall’s name. Harry of course noticed. His smirk deepened. “C’mon,” he tilted his head toward the inside. Sliding past him, she heard the door click shut behind him.

Harry’s house was pretty big for one person. She liked how open it was: the staircase was right in front of the door. It led to a little area that overlooked the main room. Almost like a loft. The main room flowed into a dining room and the kitchen, side by side. All rooms were still very open. She of course didn’t know which rooms were down the hall, but it was honestly the home she dreamed of. She could see through the slider he had a big back yard and a porch swing looking over the yard.

Whenever this thing with her and Harry ended, she would have to kindly ask for the floorplans. This place was perfect. She was in awe he was willing to slum it in her small (but no less beautiful—he did pick it out after all) apartment for the last month.

“Y’okay, love?” He asked, leaning against the kitchen island while she looked around the rooms. It was sparsely decorated. Anne and Gemma were always on him about that. But he was waiting for someone to decorate it for him...someone like her.

“This house is beautiful.”

He chuckled. “Thank you, kitten.”

“I want the floor plans,” no time like the present to ask.

He wanted to say there was no need for her to have them. He wanted to say the house was all hers. It didn’t even feel like home until she stepped inside. She hadn’t even sat down yet, and Harry could hardly breathe, feeling how whole he felt with just her presence gazing out the window. Harry nearly proposed because the idea of her living in a house without him seemed ridiculous. He grinned. “Will do, love...can I get you something t’drink?”

They ended up on the porch swing after dinner. She kicked her shoes and held the glass of wine in her hands. Tomorrow was Saturday so she didn’t seem to mind drinking today. Harry made her Ramen, and they ate it at the table before moving outside. “You’re a very good cook,” she told him to which he smiled so brightly at the compliment she thought she might go blind.

With one foot tucked under her and the other one dangled over the edge, her toe was barely touching the ground. Harry, with the longest legs in the world was flat footed on the ground, gently rocking the pair of them. Harry was so close to her she could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Are y’warm enough, kitten?” He asked. Every time they were together, he worried she would be freezing all so she wouldn’t inconvenience him.

She nodded. “Wine makes me warm,” she smirked.

He chuckled. “Good.” They sat silently for a bit. Listening to the sounds of the outdoors. Harry scrolled on his phone for a moment, something he hated to do while he was with her, but he couldn’t help it much when he was constantly getting notifications about his business. “Sorry, love,” he said softly as he checked on one important notification.

“It’s really okay,” she promised sipping her wine. “I feel bad I’m here interrupting your evening to begin with.”

He frowned and put his phone back in his pocket. “Kitten, you’re so confident at work...and y’should be of course...how come you’re so hard on yourself outside of work?”

She shrugged. “I know I’m good at working, I’m not very good at the whole relationship thing...obviously. Even more so the whole companionship thing either.”

His frown deepened and he watched as she sipped from her glass. She cradled it in both hands nervously rubbing her thumbs along the sides. “I don’t know what y’mean by ‘obviously.’”

“Well, I was previously in a relationship for three years but the reason it ended is because I caught him fucking another woman in our bed,” she said bluntly. Harry’s eyebrows perked up. He hadn’t heard her swear once since he’d known her. “I would assume that was because I wasn’t good enough...so now I’m not sure I know how to be a girlfriend...I feel like I certainly don’t know how to be a companion.”

Harry put his hand to his mouth, trying to think of all the words he wanted to say next. “Love, your ex is a proper idiot,” he said. “His...unfaithfulness has nothing t’do with you. He is so wrong for losing you,” Harry let the words sit between them for a few moments. She was quiet. Harry waited for her to say something or to let the emotions filter through her brain. In a matter of a month, she had a boyfriend, didn’t have a boyfriend, started an internship, a companionship, and moved into a new apartment. There couldn’t have been much time for her to process everything.

Harry didn’t care if they sat there the rest of the night. She needed to know that, and she needed to know she was perfect. Her ex was a complete moron for losing her. Harry wasn’t even dating her, and he was ready to kiss the ground she walked on just to exist. Eventually, she bit her lip and quietly whispered to him. “Thank you.”

He didn’t need a thank you. So he continued his assurance that she was all but angelic. “As for this,” he gestured between the two of them. “I know ’ve only known you a month...and I know you’re new at this, but you’re lovely. I really believe that. There aren’t really rights or wrongs when it comes t’this,” he promised.

“I haven’t even slept with you yet...let alone kiss you,” she muttered. “I’m the worst at this.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Have you done this before?”

There was a beat of silence. Harry didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable but he would rather die than lie to her. “A couple times,” he admitted. “Not in a few years.”

She nodded. “How come...you don’t make me sleep with you?”

He snorted at the implication. “Kitten.”

“Well,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean...you could...not pay me. This could be over.”

He could just tell her right now that he was in love with her. More than the first day he met her. Harry didn’t believe in love at first sight. He had dated a good amount before her. No one ever took his breath away like she did, so he was certain it had to be love. Harry never got jealous before today...especially because of his best friend. “Do y’want it t’be over?” He decided to ask instead.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to say this without putting my foot in my mouth so I’m just going to say it and know I’m not trying to offend you,” she paused and looked at him for a moment. He nodded his head. “Despite our arrangement, I’m really glad I met you. I like hanging out with you. And I think you’re right...I wouldn’t have found someone as nice as you if you didn’t come along.”

He smirked. “And outbid them?” He winked.

“That’s not why I picked you,” she rolled her eyes. “I told you what I wanted.” They sat quietly side by side, rocking gently for another moment. In all her efforts to avoid the topic of Niall, she felt she had no choice but to ask herself. “Did you tell Niall about us?” She asked.

He shook his head. “I want to, though.”

She frowned. “Any way I could convince you otherwise?” She asked tentatively. She tapped out a rhythm on her glass with her fingertips.

He chuckled and shook his head. “He’s very discreet. And he already knows you,” Harry reminded her. “Wouldn’t it be nice not t’hide it with someone at work?”

“Isn’t he going to look at me like I’m...”

“He’s not going t’look at y’like anything but you, love.”

She sighed. “It’s your show,” she shrugged.

“I won’t tell him if y’don’t want me to,” he answered with a shrug of his own.

She turned to him, her foot that was previously tucked under her, fell back toward the ground. “You won’t?”

He sipped his own glass of wine. “If s’gonna make you uncomfortable, of course not.”

She sucked her lip into her mouth. “I’ve never met any guy like you before, Harry.”

He smiled. “Is that a good thing?”

“I think it might be my favorite thing.”

The idea that any part of Harry’s personality was her favorite anything had him nearly bubbling with excitement. He wanted to kiss her for the rest of the night and maybe all day tomorrow too. “You can tell Niall...he is your best friend.”

He could feel his face smiling so much he looked at the glass in his hands. He would tell Niall tomorrow when they golfed bright and early. “Do y’like Niall?” He asked quietly.

“I do,” she said and Harry thought he might die. His heart seemed to stop beating all together. “He’s my boss. He’s a great teacher and—”

Harry shook his head and swallowed a bit nervously. He didn’t want her to like him. “No...love...I mean...” he trailed off.

She tilted her head at him in confusion and then at once her eyebrows shifted up in surprise. “Harry,” she said softly.

“Look,” he started. “I...I don’t think you’re like this, but ’ve had girlfriends and companions only like me for m’money and they don’t...” he shook his head. “If y’like Niall I just want t’know.”

She frowned, thought for a moment and then leaned toward Harry and quickly pecked him on the cheek. Like an absolute child he thought about never washing his cheek again. She rested her head against his arm and Harry tried to stay perfectly still so as not to move out of this perfect position. Eventually, she shook her head. “If...if you stopped paying me, I’d still want t’be friends. I don’t like Niall like that, I promise.”

His heart soared. “You would?” He asked.

“Do you have any friends besides Niall? Or are all your friends paid for?” She giggled cutely.

He chuckled at her joke. “I have other friends.”

“I’d...like to meet them sometime, if that’s possible.”

Harry didn’t know how to tell her she would meet them at their wedding, so he just said, “sure thing, kitten.”

Harry didn’t really know how to broach the topic to Niall, so he just went for it. Right as he took one of his first swings. “Are you kidding me, Harry!?” He shouted. “You messed up my shot!” Smirking, Harry leaned a bit on his club waiting for Niall to process the words he said. “How much do you pay her?”

“None of your business.”

“I would have been your companion if I knew you’d pay me more.”

“You’re not my type,” he said unaffected by Niall’s quip. “You still make more than her,” he shrugged. Harry knew it wasn’t about that though. “She didn’t even want that much. She just wanted enough t’pay for her apartment.”

“This is proof you don’t pay attention to me when I send the intern information to you,” Niall noted.

“I trust you,” he rolled his eyes lining up his tee to take his shot. “You had no idea?”

Niall shook his head. He waited quietly and patiently for Harry to swing. “I thought you just liked her.”

“Well, I do,” he admitted. “A lot.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “You sure know how to make everything the most complicated thing in the world.”

“We all have our talents, Niall,” he deadpanned. Snorting Niall shook his head putting his club back into the bag and getting into the golf cart. “She’s nervous you’ll treat her different.”

“If I didn’t know for the last month, I would say it doesn’t affect her work ethic or anything. I wouldn’t treat her differently if you told me before.”

Harry nodded. “Good.” They were quiet as they got to their next shots and finished the hole. Gathering their belongings, Harry drove them to the next one. “I really like her,” he told him.

Niall could tell that Harry really liked her. He never got too attached to girls or wispy about them. He certainly didn’t concoct a day of golf for Niall to talk about them. As Harry’s best friend he was very grateful he had found someone he liked so much. Even if it was naturally complicated. Niall smirked. “Good for you,” he said almost if he was congratulating Harry. “You deserve a nice, sweet, girl,” he told him. “I will take full credit at the wedding that you wouldn’t have met her if I didn’t pick her to be my intern.”

Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled at his friend as they got ready for the next hole.

But there was no way Harry could deny how dreamy it felt to think about marrying the pretty girl.

During her Starbucks runs she always forwarded the office phone to her cellphone. Carrying the tray containing Niall and Harry’s drinks, she had her shoulder pressed to hold the phone in place next to her ear. Additionally, she picked up a bunch of documents for Niall at the print shop and since then it had been nonstop phone calls. So, her hands were full. She thanked the man on the elevator for pressing the button for her and hurried off to settle the items down.

She turned the corner to her office, and it took her several moments after the fact to realize what happened. She heard someone screaming and it was a full minute before she noticed it was herself that screamed. “Holy shit,” she didn’t know the guy that bumped into her. In a daze she thought that maybe she had never seen him before this very moment. But her skin was burning, the empty coffee cups were on the floor and the documents were everywhere.

All she could manage to think about was how glad she was she wore pants and a chunky sweater today.

She was gasping like the air wasn’t coming fast enough and was still unsure why. “Darling?” Niall was suddenly there shoving him out of the way, he put his hands on her shoulders and tried to gather the attention of her eyes. She had to be in shock. All she knew was that she was in so much pain. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay,” he promised calmly. He was assessing the situation, looking her up and down seeing if he could figure out how to help so she didn’t get sent into a full-blown panic. It seemed she already was and of course Niall didn’t blame her. Her skin was probably burning. She was covered in hot liquid. Her clothes soaked and probably burning her skin. It didn’t get her face, just her shirt seemed to take the brunt of it and she was so glad she opted for a thicker sweater this chilly fall morning. It very well could have been the difference between a first and second degree burn that was still stinging her skin. Niall gently tugged her through the puddle of liquid at their feet ruining her cute shoes. Niall didn’t even pay any mind to his polished dress shoes getting splashed with coffee. His only concern seemed to be her. “Come on, let’s get you—”

“What happened?”

She had never heard Harry sound like that before in the two and a half months she was interning. The din of background noise stopped at the sound of his voice. Everyone was silent. Obviously, he never sounded like that outside of work either. She was certain it reset her shocked brain. Inhaling deeply, she ignored the sting of her shirt sticking to her burned skin. Definitely first or second degree. “M’okay,” she managed but she was trying so hard not to cry in pain in front of literally everyone that came out of their offices to hear her scream and then Harry’s angry tone. He shoved Niall roughly out of the way and she swore she saw Niall smirk at his friend. It almost made her smile, but she was in too much pain to focus on it now. She knew that Niall knew, but true to Harry’s words, Niall made no implication that it changed her relationship with him. Niall pretended like he didn’t know. Or if he wanted to mention it, he didn’t seem to care. Harry grabbed her by the wrist after ensuring it was okay to touch her by a quick scan of noting it was probably the only part of her that wasn’t in pain.

Harry wanted to kill himself for ordering a hot beverage.

“I’m so sorry,” the man that bumped into her whispered.

“You can shut up,” Harry snapped. She couldn’t say anything because she was still in pain and still trying to process anything that happened. “You, pack your stuff,” he snarled directly to the man that she still didn’t even know his name. He blanched at the notion. She gaped.

“That’s not—”

“Let’s go,” he snapped not letting her finish. He marched her away from the puddle of hot liquid and down to his office.

Niall followed behind, grabbing her phone off the floor before it was submerged in tea and coffee. “Don’t pack yet,” she heard him mutter to the poor guy.

“Mr. Styles,” she whispered just in case anyone was listening. She didn’t like to call him Harry in front of anyone except Niall. She knew others weren’t given the privilege and she didn’t want to be treated differently. “Please slow down,” she begged. While her upper body definitely was in worse shape than her legs that were mostly protected by her pants, the stinging pain of her burns amplified as her clothing brushed painfully against her skin. “It hurts,” she croaked. Harry’s hand loosened his grip on her wrist and he slowed his pace breathing out in nearly heavy pants. “M’okay,” she promised.

Harry wanted to scoop her in his arms and carry her the rest of the way. The last ten meters seemed endless as he watched her walk carefully to his office. She was trying not to cry, and it made Harry want to set himself on fire just to see her in pain.

Niall followed behind a few moments later just as she got to the door and Harry slammed the door shut to his office. “You can’t fire him, Harry,” Niall rolled his eyes.

“Look at her,” he snapped. “What do y’need, angel?” He cooed, he cupped her face and she felt so embarrassed that Niall was right there to see it all. This would surely make him treat her differently. Somehow, despite all the burns, Harry calling her angel and touching her face was enough to turn her cheeks warm against Harry’s cool hands. She wanted him to touch all over her aching skin. The duality of his tone between Niall and her was so shocking she forgot how to speak. “Should I take her to the hospital?” He asked Niall.

She shook her head quickly. “M’fine,” she promised bravely the tears still stinging the back of her eyes as much as her skin.

Niall was looking at his phone. “You’re supposed to rinse in barely warm water, darling. Should be cold, really.”

Harry turned away from her for the first time and hurried to the closet of his office that she never really paid any mind to. But as she watched Harry the closet was actually a bathroom and if she wasn’t in so much pain, she probably would have made a joke about it. He started grabbing a towel and all kinds of spa things. “I don’t have any clothes,” she said softly to Niall. Her cheeks felt like they were reddening by the second. This was so embarrassing. “Can I have my phone?” She sniffled. He held it out to her tentatively, having wiped it off on his leg of any last coffee. She would have to get his clothes dry cleaned. She tapped on Eleanor’s number.

“Hey love, how’s your day?” Louis answered the phone. It wasn’t uncommon. They often had their lunch breaks together since they worked a mere block away from one another.

“Louis, I need Eleanor to bring me some clothes,” she mumbled looking at Harry making sure everything was in place from the open door.

“Ooh, finally let Harry fuck your brains out. How naughty you did it at work.”

She sniffled. “No...” she shook her head hating that she couldn’t laugh at his joke.

“Oh, hey, babe. What happened? Are you alright?” He asked.

Eleanor must have taken the phone from him. “What’s wrong?” She asked.

“S’nothing. I just need you to bring me clothes,” she sniffled, and the tears finally escaped. “Please.”

“Yeah, of course. Of course, love. What do you want?”

She didn’t want to wear anything, but she had to be professional. She wished she was by herself, and Niall and Harry weren’t in earshot. “I...I think I burned my whole body,” she whimpered. “El, it hurts,” she sniffled. “I...loose pants, a loose blouse,” she told her.

“Darling, you can wear something comfortable,” Niall said. “Don’t worry about the outfit,” he promised.

“Oh, love,” she cooed. “I got it, I got it. I’ll be right there, fifteen minutes. Just have someone send me the information I need,” she said.

“We’re on our way, love,” Louis promised taking the phone back for a moment before they hung up. She opened her phone to her message thread with Louis and Eleanor and handed it to Niall. “Can you just tell them how to get up here?” She asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded. She told him what her passcode was in case the screen locked on him. Niall took a seat on the couch on the opposite side of Harry’s office.

“C’mere,” Harry said and gestured to the bathroom.

This had to be the most embarrassing day of her life. She slowly made her way toward the bathroom feeling like the stinging was now a permanent fixture on her body and after all the shock was officially out of her body it hurt more than it did five minutes ago. She was dreading the look at her skin. “Harry, you can’t fire him,” she said.

“It’s my company,” she could tell it was taking a lot of restraint from snapping at her.

“Please,” she begged. He didn’t respond but he saw the way his shoulders deflated just a hair.

“Louis and Eleanor are bringing you clothes?” He asked.

She nodded. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.” Harry closed the bathroom door. “Harry...” she said softly, nervously. He turned the water on in the shower and let it run.

“That should run for at least five minutes,” he told her.

Which just meant there would just be five minutes until Eleanor was here to help her. She leaned back against the counter, eyes closed, trying not to think about how much pain she was in. She supposed it was better than when it initially happened, but she kind of wished the shock was still there to keep her from noticing.

“Y’can probably get in now,” he told her.

Her face burned in embarrassment. “Harry,” she tried again.

“I won’t look. M’not leaving this room if you’re by yourself. If y’pass out, m’not letting you lay in the shower. Just until Eleanor gets here,” he promised. He turned around and faced the door. He stood there silently. Her chest ached almost as much as her skin. It drove her nuts that everyone on the entire floor knew she was in here with Harry and Niall. She was sure the rumors would be awful in a matter of moments. Harry still hadn’t seen her naked and she didn’t want at work to be the first place for it to happen.

“Kitten, please try,” he whispered quietly. “M’really upset you’re hurt,” he told her. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling and she could hear how upset he sounded. It was like he was in pain from the burn almost as much as she was.

Assuming Harry wasn’t backing down she decided it was now or never. She sniffled and tried to reach for her shoes but immediately regretted it. She inhaled sharply and stood straight up. “Can you help me with my shoes? I can’t bend,” she whispered. He turned around immediately and knelt to the floor. He carefully picked her foot up, almost cradling her ankle. His fingers skimmed along her ankle strap and unbuckled it. She couldn’t believe how intimate it felt just for Harry to be holding her foot. Carefully he pulled her shoe off and then started on the other. Almost losing her balance she grabbed the counter.

Harry was wildly aware of what this looked like.

Which is why when Eleanor pushed the door open, gasped, then pulled it shut almost as quickly, Harry froze with his hand grasping her ankle. “Whoops, sorry,” she muttered outside the door. “Good for him,” she heard Louis say almost proudly.

She put a hand over her face to hide her embarrassment. She honestly thought Niall was probably thinking of ways to fire her solely for her friends being idiots. Harry smirked despite everything, and she was actually grateful for Louis’ joke at her expense because she hated the idea that Harry was upset because of her. “Suppose that’s m’cue,” he murmured.

“Great,” she sighed.

He stood up and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “M’glad you’re okay, kitten,” he whispered in her ear. “And I’d be so lucky,” he said causing her skin to warm more than the burn.

Eleanor chatted with her throughout the shower and was there to help her with her clothes. She was glad she didn’t have to say it in front of Niall and Harry, but Eleanor knew to bring one of her looser bralettes without an offensive band that could hide under her shirt. She was also grateful that she clearly heard Niall about the comfortable clothing because she wouldn’t be caught dead in this office with a pair of leggings for fear of unprofessionalism. “Sorry to interrupt,” she winked at her.

She glanced at the doors hoping no one out there heard Eleanor. She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t do that at work.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” El shrugged. “He’s really cute.”

“He can hear you,” she shook her head whispering nervously.

“No, Louis texted they both left to give you privacy. It’s just Louis out there.”

“Who are we to judge what kind of physical medicine you need in a time of crisis?” He asked through the closed door.

“Are you alright?” Eleanor asked. She nodded. The shower helped significantly even if it was freezing cold. “I brought some petroleum jelly,” she said. “Do you want help, or do you want me to do it?” She asked.

“I can do it,” she said and glanced in the mirror at her body for the first time.

“I think your sweater saved you,” Eleanor said.

She nodded. “That and my iced coffee,” she remarked. Her skin was red, one or two spots where the initial impact must have hit would blister, right below her bra-line but she was extremely lucky. The burns did extend to her thighs but other than that she was okay. The stinging was now just a dull ache. She slathered the ointment all over her skin. Everywhere it hurt. She nearly sighed with relief.

It took another five minutes for Eleanor to help her with her clothing and make sure she looked okay. She put on more makeup so she could feel whole again. She was already dreading leaving this office with wet hair. Eleanor opened the door to see Louis sitting on the ground with his back against the wall beside the door to the bathroom.

“You alright, babe?” He asked, standing to join the little party. Louis sat on the closed toilet lid.

She nodded. “Much better. Thank you.”

“Harry left this,” he said holding out a first aid kit. Eleanor placed it on the counter to deal with after the makeup.

“You should ask to go home,” Eleanor said as she reapplied her mascara. “We’ll drive you home before we go back to work.”

She shook her head. “I have to do a few more things...I have to replace those files....and I never got my coffee,” she opened the first aid kit to pull out gauze and she slathered it with more petroleum jelly.

Louis chuckled. “You’re definitely okay.”

“Harry was going to fire the guy that bumped into me,” she said. “Can you cover this?” She asked, passing her bandage to Eleanor and lifting her shirt to her chest. Louis looked at his phone while the girls did their thing.

“Well, he is quite taken with you. I’m surprised he didn’t strangle him on the spot,” Eleanor smirked as she bandaged the most sensitive burns carefully. It was cold in the office, and she was irritated because she couldn’t cover her arms or body with any extra layers. “You’re lucky it missed your hands,” Eleanor said.

She nodded as Eleanor soothingly wiped more jelly along the inside of her forearms where the hot liquid did get her. “What do you mean quite taken?” She asked.

“Oh, shut up,” Louis rolled his eyes. “Even I noticed.”

“He’s smitten, love,” Eleanor giggled. “He can’t take his eyes off you, ever. The whole time we built the furniture when I came in the bathroom to help.”

“He was practically staring at the door like a puppy while you were in here,” Louis explained.

She felt the ever-present warmth in her cheeks whenever Harry’s affection toward her came up. She simply didn’t believe that Harry liked her like that. There was no way. He simply paid her to be around, and he worried about her the way someone worries about their car...or their expensive electronics. “No way.”

There was a knock on his office door, and she felt awkward that someone was probably coming in looking for Harry and they were about to find a circus in the bathroom.

“Come in!” Louis shouted.

“Jesus Christ,” she grumbled. Eleanor laughed as she finished the final coat of jelly and rinsed her hands off in the sink.

Fortunately, it was just Harry. Harry, knocking on his own office door. She was going to lose her mind from how ridiculous this all was. “Er...hi,” he said awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“You feel a little better?”

“I think so,” she nodded.

Niall came in behind holding an iced coffee in his hands. “Louis said y’might still want one,” he smirked.

She turned to glare at Louis who smiled excitedly. Like this was the most exciting game he had ever played. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“Niall, Harry,” Eleanor began. Oh no. “Would you mind if we drove her home? She wants to stay to replace the files or something, but I think—”

“Absolutely not, please take her,” Niall said quickly shaking his head. He didn’t even need to hear the end of it.

Harry frowned. “Y’didn’t seriously think we were going t’make y’stay love, did you?” He wondered.

“Well, it’s not that bad now...I could—”

“Oh my God,” Louis rolled his eyes. “You’ll see them both Monday and your work will still be here. You can spare the ninety quid you’d make.”

“You’re only paying her eighteen an hour?” Harry asked, looking at Niall suddenly very aware of how little he was paying her.

“You’re the one that sets the pay, Harold,” Niall shook his head.

“I changed my mind,” she said to Eleanor. “Get me out of here,” she begged.

“Er...” Harry started appearing a bit flustered. She doesn’t know why. Everyone in this room knew he was paying her outside these walls to be in his life. “Do y’think you can drop her off at m’place? I want t’make sure she’s okay...and...I don’t want her t’cook dinner herself or anything.”

If Eleanor and Louis hadn’t said Harry was so taken with her just a few moments ago, she wouldn’t have thought anything of his question. She wouldn’t have looked at him when he asked. Again, it was merely the idea of someone taking care of a house pet. Or a boat. He wanted to look after what he paid for.

If they hadn't said anything, she wouldn’t have seen the way his cheeks turned the slightest bit pink when he asked if they could drive her to his place.

“Harry, we’d love to,” Louis responded with a full-blown, impish smile.

taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jessitpwk @jerseygirlinca @stylesfever @soachibstel1 @tiredinwinter

sorry if I missed anyone that wanted to be tagged. Just lmk!

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #ceo!harry #sugardaddy!harry #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #tradtional

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denahi · 20 days ago

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A very late Multifandom Doodle gift -- I started this in 2021. I saw these eight characters being requested and came up with a 4-piece idea themed around pairs of characters in Quark's family celebrating a Ferengi holiday themed around Rule of Acquisition #75 ("Home is where the heart is, but the stars are made of latinum") and the date the Ferengi acquired warp drive technology, but then didn't have the time to actually execute it. I was finally able to finish this up for Late Treat Bonanza. More notes under the cut if you're interested:

Jake and Nog are in charge of cooking. This is post-canon, so Jake has some facial hair, and also can cook Ferengi dishes.

Rom and Leeta are in charge of decorating. I get the feeling they'd both enjoy making things look pretty. I wanted to come up with a holiday that Ferengi might celebrate, so I decided on a commemoration of when Ferengi bought warp drive technology and so were able to travel the stars for the first time (and so engage in many new business ventures!). Traditional decorations are the Tower of Commerce (this one here is an official 1/300 scale model) plus the Ferengi Alliance insignia, stars, and slips of latinum. This one took me forever -- trying to figure out poses and perspective and the background... ToT

Pel and Ishka are making the dough! Pel is on a business call, and Ishka is giving her advice while also doing some stock trading.

Finally, Quark and Odo are doing nothing of value arguing with each other at the dining room table.

#star trek ds9 #star trek fanart #star trek #quodo #digital art #drawn with krita #jake sisko #ds9 nog #ds9 leeta #ds9 rom #ds9 pel #ds9 ishka #ds9 quark #ds9 odo

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metalomagnetic · 10 months ago

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I was re-reading Dissonance and I wanted to ask if Abraxas ever kept the poison chandelier? Like is it a treasured family heirloom? Or does Lucius just inherit it when his dad dies with no clue why they have this dangerous, tacky piece of decor he can't get rid of because Lord Voldemort vaguely complimented(?) it one time?

It's hilarious that you sent me this ask, while I am still laughing myself to tears (I just read your comment 1 minute ago).

The 'homoerotic chandelier' (I am STILL laughing, thank you, truly) is, of course, gaudy; just horrid, really, there's a reason no one was buying it, even with Tom's outstanding sale talents.

Being an impulse purchase (a horny purchase), Abraxas didn't think it through- how on earth will he explain this monstrosity to his father?

He hides it in the dungeons, knowing his father doesn't go there (draft and all).

After Tom disappears, Abraxas might, or might not, visit the dungeons to have a look at it from time to time. He sent hundreds of letters to Tom, but they all returned unopened, so he's convinced his enemy-lover is dead. His cold, tiny heart, is broken.

Once his dad finally dies, Abraxas moves the chandelier to Gringotts, wrapped in a secure box, in the hopes he won't have to think about it (Tom) anymore, if it isn't in his house. At first, he wanted to destroy it, but he couldn't make himself. (It's lucky he didn't try, because that was one CURSED chandelier that would have reacted poorly to violence).

A decade or so later, Lord Voldemort shows up.

Abraxas is furious (happy)! How dare that mudblood be even more powerful than when he left? (how dare Tom just show up, as if Abraxas didn't mourn for him, thought him dead, and grew stupidly attached to an ugly chandelier as a stand in for Tom?)

Everyone is playing this silly game, pretending not to recognise this is Tom Riddle. Abraxas cannot wait to actually meet him face to face and spit 'Riddle' at him; he is a Malfoy, Riddle doesn't scare him! Alas, before he can meet him, he hears old classmates are dropping dead all over the place (the only thing they had in common was that they knew the name Riddle) and he reconsiders. It's not that he's afraid (he's terrified), but he's just cautious. Yes, cautious. He determines is better to avoid Riddle (even if his broken, even tinier and colder heart longs to see him again).

But then his stupid son comes back with a horrid brand on his arm (he remembers Riddle doodling it in his schoolboy silly journal) and Abraxas is horrified. Furthermore, Rodolphus keeps saying Voldemort is unnaturally close to Lucius, that they have many one on one meetings, and Abraxas has had ENOUGH. So he goes to face Riddle and tell him to stay away from his son (he has no idea that once, long ago, his own father went to tell Tom to stay away from Abraxas. Apparently it's a Malfoy tradition, now.)

Anyway, things don't go as planned, Abraxas freezes when he sees what Riddle had done to his previously perfect face. He freezes when he feels the *power* emanating from him. He ends up pretending he doesn't recognise him.

It's a long and complicated story (really, it is) but eventually Abraxas invites Voldemort to the Manor ( to discuss Lucius, of course, no other reason. Not like Abraxas had decade long fantasies of bringing Riddle to his Manor and fucking him in the master bedroom or anything like that). On a whim, he has the chandelier brought back from Gringotts and hangs it in the dining room.

Riddle's new waxy, harsh face does something funny, shows some emotion for once, when he sees it. Abraxas is suddenly hot all over, but they attempt to talk normally until Lucius comes home, bows to Riddle ( the indignity! Lucius should only bow to Abraxas) and then, with a sneer, asks if Abraxas has lost his mind, what is that ugly chandelier doing in their lovely home?

The chandelier apparently doesn't take the insult in stride, and , with a thunder like noise, starts raining poison down on Lucius.

It's fine, in the end. Riddle was always good with spells of all kind, the arrogant mudblood, so he fixes Lucius up, and then sends him to get some rest.

The next morning, when Lucius stumbles out of his room, with a headache from the remaining after effects of the poison, he witnesses his lord getting out of his father's room.

He blinks. Once, twice. He rubs his eyes, frozen.

"You're hallucinating," Lord Voldemort tells him. "From the poison. Go back to bed."

Lucius decides that yes, he must be hallucinating (he dearly hopes so, because why else would he see the dark lord, robe not entirely buttoned up, leaving his father's room at dawn?), and he retreats to the safety of his room.

Another decade later, when his father dies, Lucius decides to leave the chandelier in place ( in his father's room, where it was moved after it assaulted Lucius). He thinks it's wiser not to mess with the thing. Besides, it seemed to matter quite a lot to his old man; Lucius swears his father loved that ugly monstrosity more than he ever loved Lucius.

Thank you so much for your comment, and you're at fault for this lengthy, cracky answer! I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

#tombrax #crack #my fics #this is all because of a wonderful comment I got

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shesjustanothergeek · 2 years ago

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His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Six

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I want to thank everyone for their patience with these updates every two weeks. This schedule works out perfectly for me, and I don't have to disappoint anyone with delays! I've gotten a couple questions regarding everyone's age for this story which I figured would happen. I kept the ages of everyone vague on purpose. Aegon is between 14-17, Aemond is 11-14, Halaena is 9-11, and the reader is 10-14. No matter what age you pick, they're all still minors. I hope that helped a bit!

Chapter Warnings: Traditional Targaryen family dinner, canon typical violence.

You had a sense of Deja Vu before the wide entrance of the dining hall, only this time, you were not alone. Next to you was your supposed father. You chewed on your lip nervously, pulling the thin scab that covered your marks from earlier.

So many things were left unanswered you had no idea where to begin. Were you truly his daughter?

Your mother was a prostitute; how could he be sure? How did he not know she was pregnant? That is not an easy thing to hide. How many brothers and sisters did you potentially have, was Daemon the monster Ma believed him to be, and who was watching you now, ready to report back to her?

"This is unnerving," you decided to say, not brave enough to voice your questions yet. He snorted, his eyebrows raising for a moment before he shifted his weight and took your arm in his.

"It is unnecessary, but is that not all customs to those unaware?" You mimicked his expressions but turned your gaze down, retaking your lip between your teeth. "Stop that," he chided as a father would, and you obeyed. You couldn't help it; the feeling came as an instinct.

Two guards opened the doors, and another from inside the dining room announced your presence to the family sitting at the great table. As you walked arm-in-arm with Daemon, you became even more ridged than the crown's sworn protectors.

Six sets of brown and violet eyes turned your way. An urge to channel your anxiety overcame you, but you stopped, remembering your father's -Prince Daemon's- words. You squeezed his thick black sleeve instead, and he glanced down at you, his eyes the same as the others.

Aegon was the first to stand in your presence, almost making your blank expression change, the other five soon following. No longer was his short platinum hair stringy, curls sticking to one another, but were clean, nearly a shade lighter with all the dirt gone. His rags had changed into a dark, emerald green tunic, a golden chain decorated with the same colored gems, and the sigil of House Targaryen embroidered on the chest.

Now that the alcohol had wholly left your system, heat filled your limbs, realizing just how handsome he was. His pouted lips stained a light red from wine, and he had a lively pale face with clear eyes. You were still upset with him. This was all his fault. You could have avoided this if he had kept to himself and gone straight to Madam's brothel instead of stealing you away.

As you and Daemon approached the table, you saw Aegon move from his seat, nearly sprinting to an empty one as he pulled it out. You looked to your father -Daemon- questioning whether or not you should accept Aegon's chivalry. He did not indicate what you should do, so you did the only thing you could do in that situation. Take Aegon's hand.

He kissed the top of it, his violet orbs boring into your slightly panicked ones as a grin graced his lips, helping you into your seat. Though Aegon wanted to sit next to you, he thought better of it, returning to the spot next to his sister wife as he took a swig of his drink.

Everyone sat tense. An older woman around Lyra's age with chestnut brown hair stared at you, her gaze like ice, trying to wither away a fresh sprout of spring crops with a layer of frost. Queen Alicent, you realized, the dark green gown and seven-pointed star giving her identity as if she said it herself. It looked as if she hated you simply for being in her presence.

You should have bowed and scolded yourself for not, your eyes wide as the anxiety bubbled into your mouth. You ignored Daemon's earlier warning as you tugged at the loose skin on your lip.

"Prince Daemon," the young Queen spoke, finally breaking her stare from you. "How pleased am I to have heard the news of your arrival. I had presumed you, the Princess Rhaenyra, and her sons would travel together, not one to stray far from your nest."

You looked at Daemon, worried and confused, your gaze traveling between them. The hostility and passive aggressiveness were as plain as the soup the servants brought out, quietly placing the bowl in front of you.

"I saw no need for the Princess to travel in her condition. As you know, pregnancy is such a precarious condition." Daemon did not react to the hidden animosity behind her words, answering as if he was talking about the weather.

The Queen hummed, nodding and pursing her lips as she gathered some soup on her silver spoon. You did the same, imitating her actions so as not to cause more attention to yourself. You have dressed the part of a royal but felt anything like it, accidentally slurping the broth from your spoon.

Muffled laughter came from the left of you, your eyes pausing on the empty seat between Queen Alicent and a man that shared her looks. Aegon was leaning back in his chair with a chalice of wine in his hand. She gave her son a glare opening her mouth before the large dining hall doors did the same.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name," a guard announced, his accent prominent as everyone rose from the table."King of the Andals, the Roynar, and The First of Men."

Four men carried the King on a decorative chair, leaning slightly on his ivory cane and dressed in a magnificent pile of red, gold, and black robes, a small wound on his face. Everyone was staring, their faces somber with a hint of disgust and pity. It almost felt disrespectful to gaze upon a man who held the Seven Kingdoms in his now frail hand, a man who sat upon the Iron Throne, a seat stained with blood and ash. You looked everywhere but him.

The men carried him straight to you, sitting his makeshift throne on the stone floor with a thud. Your gaze was downcast out of fear and respect for this man's position.

"My child," he rasped, his chest heaving with the effort it took to speak, "look at me."

"Come," he ordered, and you stepped closer, a servant to the King. The shadows of the candlelight danced on your skin, hiding your face. He stared into your eyes, his gaze searching for something. His expression was like a maester studying an object from old Valyria, looking at the hidden story behind every crack and dent.

Alicent glanced at a man dressed in the Kingsguard armor, his hair as black as coal, sharing a questioning but frustrated look. Aegon stood like the well-behaved Prince his mother wanted him to be, hands clasped at the front, attempting to hide an ever-growing grin.

How fun this is, he thought, swaying his body like a child waiting for sweets. He finally found something his mother loathed more than him, a kinship forming in his heart. It made him want you more-- made him want to take you to the full-length window in his room and fuck you for all King's Landing to see. It would be you and him, he realized, you and him for the end of time.

"How it gladens me to finally meet my brothers first born," the King said, shocking everyone in the room as he softly stroked your cheek.

Alicent could not hide her scowl from her father, crossing her arms and looking away. Though Rhaena and Baela were not there, she felt pity for them. Prince Aemond, silent for this interaction, quietly scoffed, not enough for his old father to hear but for his young mother to scold him.

"You are a dragon now." King Viserys wanted to say more, mumbling about how he forgot his words as you looked at Daemon warily.

You didn't trust this. Everything was going too smoothly. Even being raised as part of the small folk, you knew it was not customary to give bastards the same position as a trueborn child, especially when it involved the Iron Throne. Perhaps the time had softened the man, no longer a firm believer in tradition. Rhaenyra remained the heir even after Prince Aegon was born, sure to confirm it. King Viserys just wanted a family bound by love for one another.

Unease was all you could feel as you curtsied, imagining what the women at court would look like as Viserys tapped his cane on the ground, signaling his guards for his next destination between the Hand and his wife.

You returned to your seat Prince Daemon nodding once to assure that you did well, a light graze crossing your lower back in comfort.

No eyes were on the King as he told everyone to be seated well into the meal's first course. You couldn't bring yourself to look at anyone, focused on the new plate in front of you and shakily picking up your fork. A male servant topped off the drink you had yet to touch. Its beautifully designed engravings were too precious for your flea-ridden hands.

One stare you could sense above the rest, assuming it was Aegon, you glanced up only to find him throwing back his fifth goblet of wine. It was the other Prince, recognizing his long snowy hair and leather eyepatch as the boy who ran out of Madam's brothel in tears. The same boy who pushed you to the sandstone ground and called you a whore. You knew he remembered you also, twirling a table knife with his nimble fingers, the silver glinting in the candlelight.

You returned his stare, the intensity of a dragon's flame searing into him as he, too, received a plate in front of him. It was a silent battle of wills, waiting for one to inevitably fault and the other to reign victorious. You knew not why Prince Aemond seemed to hate you so. Perhaps catching him in such a weakened state of vulnerability was why, but you saw the same emotions in the Queen. Maybe it was simply because his mother disliked you.

"I am very much excited to have another woman in the family," the small blonde-haired girl said next to you. She looked much younger than you, her purple eyes soft as she smiled kindly.

It was you who lost the battle, giving the Princess your attention as she spoke to you with such sweet words. "I am afraid there are too many boys running around in this castle, and it has become very isolating."

She twirled her thumbs. You noted that nervous habits seemingly run within the family as you searched for a piece of skin on your lips.

"Nobody wants to play with me," she whispered, ensuring her family did not overhear her complaints. "Aegon calls be strange, and Aemond focuses on his studies, but you will play with me? Will you not?"

You felt pity for her, a frown forming slightly in sympathy as you agreed.

"Of course, Your Grace," you nodded, and she smiled brightly.

"Please, you must call me Halaena. We are family now." She grabbed your hands, intertwining them with yours as she lifted them with glee, happy to finally have a friend.

Yes, she had her bugs, the tiny creatures that crawled on her arms as she giggled with delight, speaking to them as if they were human, but they never talked back. She was glad to find something that would finally. You could share her love of the creatures.

The screech of wood against stone echoed in the dim room, the King standing with new confidence as he looked upon his family. He was not blind to the hatred among his kin, but his heart led him, wanting them to love one another as a family bound by fire and blood.

"It lifts this old mans spirits," he began, staring at the children in front of him, "to see my House united. Seeing them sit next to one another as a family should. Bound by their duty for each other." Viserys picked up his goblet, splashing some red drink over the rim with his shaking grip. "Let us drain our cups in honor of House Targaryen's power. The most Dragonriders Westeros has ever seen! And the coming legitimization of Prince Daemon's first born! " He looked over to you, "Perhaps, in some time, young one, you too will know what it is to saddle the beast and claim the skies."

He raised his drink higher, toasting to your future. A future you had not known possible until now. You mimicked his action, as did everyone else, ignoring the burning of your mouth as you downed your wine.

Prince Aemond was red with fury, balling his free hand into a fist, nails biting crescents into his palm. He had never gotten such uplifting words while struggling to claim a dragon. He was the forgotten second son of the King, not good enough even to be a spare, yet this... bastard was receiving the attention he had longed for since he was a small child. Aegon's seemingly glad demeanor only served to worsen his anger.

They had not been close as young children. Aegon constantly taunted him for not having a dragon, even going so far as to give him a pig with the help of his nephews. But ever since that fateful night in Driftmark, the night where Aemond claimed the most enormous dragon in history and had his eye taken as penance. Their father had done nothing to rectify the situation, going as far as to have Aemond threaten to be questioned about where he heard the rumor that ended in losing an eye.

Since then, it was an unspoken agreement between the brothers always to have each other's back. For Aegon to stand in Aemond's blind spot and for him to always look out for his brother after one too many Arbor Reds. They still did not get along wholly. He was unhappy with how Aegon decided to conduct his daily life as the unspoken heir to the Iron Throne, and Aegon forever wondered how far precisely the stick went up his younger brother's ass.

Daemon's hand patted your knee, reassuring you without needing to be asked. You had not expected a man with the title of "The Rogue Prince" to be so... fatherly, and you could not help but lean into his comfort, smiling at him gratefully.

The feast was finally in full swing, well on its way into the fourth course and waiting for the main to be brought out. A small band played in the corner, the string instruments creating a lively but elegant tune as you swayed to the music slightly. Everyone at the table was tense except for you, your father, and the King; he was too old to be fully aware. If this were how all royal feasts were, you would dread them for the rest of your life.

A hand on your arm stole you from your thoughts, fully expecting it to be Aegon coming to badger you, but saw the dainty fingers of a girl. Halaena was staring at you with a bright smile on her peony lips, asking you for a dance.

You blushed, shying away from her invitation. "I am afraid I do not know how, Princess," you said bashfully. She smiled wider, tilting her head as if she was sharing a secret.

"Do not worry. I don't have much of a knack for it either, but we will be the only two that know, yes?" Halaena looked at you expectantly, holding out the palm of your hand as you stared.

"I suppose so," you grinned, taking the invitation as she whisked you to the open floor.

Neither of you cared about the judgmental looks from the Queen and Prince Aemond, jumping to the upbeat music in no particular order, linking your arms as you skipped together.

It was beautiful to act like your age again, forgetting about the impending future of responsibility that came with being a royal and just having fun. Yes, you were a commoner, but you were never allowed to experience the Festival of the Mother or a celebration of the Harvest Moon. Now, you knew why, but then you saw it as a stupid act of authority by Ma.

You grabbed Halaena's tiny hands, doing a push-and-pull movement while spinning in a circle, your hair loosening from its pinned style. You both made up your choreography on impulse, not worried if it went with the music.

You continued spinning her, laughing as the tempo sped up. Her long golden blonde hair whipped in the air, creating an ethereal look matching her blue dress. Her purple irises sparkled with delight, crinkling with laughter, and she stumbled backward. Halaena stood, dusting off her gown as she returned to you but was cut off by an uninvited, but welcomed participant on Halaena's part.

Prince Aemond stood a few centimeters shorter than you. His hands clasped tightly around his back.

"My apologies for the intrusion," he said to his sweet sister, Halaena blushing and shying away.

"No apologies needed, dear brother," she giggled, "I meant to get a drink." She smiled as she brushed a long strand of golden hair behind her ear, stealing one last dance at her older brother.

You bit your lip, not out of anxiety but from the peculiar interaction between brother and sister. You seemed to be missing something.

"May I have this dance, my lady," he said stiffly, the title forcing its way out of his mouth.

"The song has hardly ended, Your Grace, perhaps the next one," you declined, beginning to take your place next to Daemon, but Prince Aemond grabbed your arm, forcing you to stop.

"I know you have no inclination of manners here in the royal court, seeing as you were raised by..." he trailed off, looking you up and down with distaste, "those of smaller status, I will not take your rejection as insult."

You stared at him, astonished. His words were so proper and sounded so respectful, but they made you feel little, so... small.

"I will ask you again, my lady. Will you dance with me?"

You couldn't refuse, taking his outstretched hand as he led you in dance. You didn't say a word, concentrating on not tripping and keeping up with Prince Aemond's pace.

King Viserys looked on with glee, smiling with his missing teeth as his family danced together. This could be a stepping stone, he thought, to the end of the intermittent squabbling Rhaenyra's children and his own had. If they could extend the olive branch to a bastard of Daemon's, why couldn't they with their true-born kin?

The dance was going smoothly, neither of you talking, serving to your advantage. You knew this was a bad idea to accept Princess Halaena's offer to dance, but now you were interlocked with the One-Eyed Prince, following his move to jump and clap as you switched directions, accidentally landing on his foot.

"Oh, Gods! I am so sorry, my Prince; I did not mean to!" You began, ready to offer a thousand apologies for your misstep, as you saw Aemond's lips purse.

"I am sure it is quite alright." Prince Aegon appeared at your side, wrapping his arm around your hips in a protective manner. "Isn't it, brother?" Aegon practically told his younger brother.

"Of course it is," he said softly.

You glanced at Aegon with discomfort, then back to Aemond, seeing his once pink face shadowed with disappointment and anger as Aegon waved him off. He looked at you with an unreadable expression on his boyish face. He bowed, not making eye contact as he returned to his seat.

It upset Prince Aemond that his dance was cut short. He wanted to spit out all the vile insults he couldn't say to his nephews, but when he saw your nervous face and smelled the calming aroma of your bath oils, he could not find the right words. You were helpless, a mouse cornered by the pursuing tom cat. It simply would not be fair to squash you.

Prince Aemond prided himself on being better than his brother. The son, who studied history and philosophy, kept up on the battle in the Step Stones and was the cupbearer during the council meetings. The throwaway second son, cowering in the first son's shadow.

"May I have this dance, my lady?" Aegon asked, bending at the waist and extending his hand.

You took a breath and steadied yourself, your skin flushed with a light sheen of sweat as you pushed your hair back. You peered past Aegon's shoulder, Daemon's slightly turned figure watching you as a stag was placed on the long oak table. He nodded, and you took Aegon's invitation.

He lifted his arm in an "L" shape, telling you to do the same as you circled each other, the music now a darker sound, but the tempo still upbeat. He smiled. His expression hides a malicious intent, the knowledge of man's sins behind it.

"You look ravishing tonight, little one," he complimented. You quickly glanced at Daemon, ensuring he didn't hear the term of endearment.

"Do not call me that, Your Grace," you whispered pointedly, leaning closer to him. Aegon couldn't help himself as his eyes traveled down your neck, pausing at the necklace your father gifted you and how it complimented your sweat-coated skin.

"Awe, pretty girl, it is just a pet name for you. After all, we are family now," he jabbed, leading you into dance.

"I would hardly call ourselves family," you scoffed, concentrating on not tripping. "I have not been declared as such in the eyes of the Seven or the law. My birth is not yet legitimized." You knew this discussion was futile, like arguing with a child, but you couldn't help it as he continued to bait you.

"My, if only we had an event planned for that very thing," he snickered as you switched directions. Aegon was enjoying this dance, reminding him of the childhood games he played, teasing a donkey with a carrot as he spun you.

"Is this why you brought me here, Aegon? Because you knew I was a bastard?" He shrugged, lifting you by your hips to get you to stop talking. "Why you had me wasted on cups and..." You couldn't finish the sentence, your cheeks heating up from something other than exertion.

Aegon smirked, the candlelight shining on his wet teeth as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him with his arm around your waist. This was improper. You could tell from the soft screech of a chair as you saw Daemon give you his full attention, not yet standing but ready to pounce at any moment.

"Aegon," you said softly, your breath hitting his wine-stained lips. You couldn't think straight. He was too close, and you could smell the sweet Arbor Red on his breath. Your whole body became hot, a wave of heat that felt almost icy, rushing between your legs.

"My sweet girl," he whispered against your skin, and you melted, stopping his swaying as the music ended. You were sure it was the alcohol talking, but you didn't stop him. He grabbed your jaw, the dirt under his fingernails gone as they pierced your skin. "You are so kind and different from the rest of us," he confessed. "You feel different, taste different."

You were unsure what he meant by that, distracted as he leaned his forehead on yours, staring into your peculiar eyes. You didn't care how everything was silent nor how all conversation ended with your dance. It was just you and Aegon, the boy who had shown you all that Ma had sheltered you from. The body that made your pulse quicken and knees weak despite all the wrong he had done to you. You closed your eyes as Aegon did, breathing his air as your lips parted.

The sound of chairs screaming and falling to the stone floor made you flinch, pulling away slightly as your eyes opened. Aegon gripped your jaw harder and, in a split second, was pulled away from you, his nails scratching your skin.

Daemon was a fire of black and red, punching Aegon in the cheek as he grabbed his wool tunic and shoved him against a wall. Prince Aemond was up at the same time as your father, his strides significantly smaller and taking more time as he went to defend his brother.

"You believe you can treat my daughter as one of your whores? Dishonor your wife in such a blatant display," Prince Daemon seethed. The King shouted, but he ignored him, his fist clenching around Aegon's neck.

"She didn't seem to mind," Aegon quipped, a smile forming on his red face.

You stood frozen, unsure what to do, if you could do anything. This was why they called Daemon The Rogue Prince, strangling his kin. The violence had thrown you off center, never having seen anything like it. It was odd how pink Aegon's face became, a vein popping out of his forehead as Daemon squeezed his throat. A voice encouraging you to see it to the end.

Halaena whimpered, plugging her ears and turning away as she saw Aemond attempt to pull Daemon from her brother. Queen Alicent screamed at her personal guard, telling him to protect her son. The others took a moment too long before they went to Aegon's rescue. It seemed as if they did not want to, waiting for explicit instructions.

Alicent's guard unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Daemon's neck. Finally, did Daemon listen, removing his hands from the Prince and stepping away, shoving Aemond off him.

Aegon gasped for air, his ragged breaths breaking you from your trace as you hurried over to him, only to be stopped by your father. Everyone followed suit, questioning him.

"You will do well not to attempt to sully my daughter's honor again," Daemon spat, urging you toward the exit.

"What are you doing," Queen Alicent yelled from her place next to her child. "Seize him!"

The Kingsguard with hair as black as night went towards Daemon, his sword placed back into its scabbard.

"Enough," King Viserys shouted, everyone in the room turning to him. "You saw as well as I what Aegon did. The compromising position he put my niece in," he boomed, the weak King from earlier gone. "He dishonors his wife and her with his actions. My brother reacted fairly," he declared. "The matter is finished. We all must retire for the evening for a joyous celebration in coming with the fortnight."

The Queen had seen this situation years ago in Driftmark when Aemond had lost an eye. No repercussions were ever going to come of this, and Alicent's resentment for Rhaenyra grew, though she had nothing to do with this. Her anger was palpable as you gave Aegon one last look. He smiled, his eyes hooded as he made a funny face. You did your best not to giggle as your father rushed you through the dining hall doors.

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Thank yooooou for reading! I always feel like I could add a bit more drama to this, but I don't want it to become distasteful. It's only up from here folks!

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loweya-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Honeycake Part 2

(Just baking stuff, sfw)

It had only been three days after you first baked that honeycake for the brothers but word had already spread to everybody else. Simeon had been trying to “subtly” suggest having tea together while Luke was begging for the chance to bake with you. Solomon offered to join in on those baking sessions with Luke, but you quickly shut that idea down. Diavolo, of course, was saying something about wanting to try new human dishes. Even Barbatos, who was your supplier for human world ingredients, had gotten you just a little TOO much honey. Seeing how your little honey bees practically begged for it, you got to work on baking.

_________________

Luke

When he heard about this new human recipe, he was excited. He wanted to bake with you but didn’t want to seem too needy or desperate. But when you agreed to his begging request, he was so happy! Baking the honeycake was a new experience since it was the first time he’d ever baked a cake without sugar. Then there was the whole baking using a cast iron skillet instead of a traditional sheet pan. He hadn’t been expecting to learn so many new ways to bake.

You two got to talk a lot as you worked, mostly fun facts about bees. Luke knew about these creatures but eagerly listened as you told him more. He didn’t realize bees were such important pollinators or that they all served a queen! The young angel made a joke about how you were pretty much their queen bee. It was so sweet that you decided not to tell him about drones or any of those smaller details.

Simeon

He felt it was a bit suspicious when you and Luke sent him and Solomon out to get some shopping done for you. The gentle angel didn’t mind it since it would give him a chance to buy you something nice. However, he did find it a bit odd that Solomon practically dragged them both out of the house.

All was made clear when he returned to purgatory hall and smelled that sweet scent from the kitchen. The cake was already decorated with berries and powdered sugar, and set on the purgatory table. Before he sat down, he made sure that you and Luke got the gift he’d bought for you both. He handed you a sloth plushy and gave the dog plushy to Luke. Simeon’s heart soared when he saw that delighted expression on your face. He then joined the others around the table, eating the delicious honeycake. Yet to him, you would always be far more sweet than any dessert.

Solomon

He knew EXACTLY what you two were up to when you sent him and Simeon out on a shopping trip. Solomon wished he could have helped but he knew that you’d rather him not step foot in the kitchen. For some reason. You always were territorial about the kitchen. On the way out, Simeon came up with the idea of bringing a gift back for you. So Solomon stole borrowed that idea and secretly bought you a new magical amulet. His precious apprentice could always use more magical jewelry.

When they returned home, he went straight over to the dining room. You and Luke were there with an already decorated cake, shouting surprise. He smiled and let Simeon give you your plushies. He would give you his own gift later… privately. When he tasted the honeycake, he was surprised. It was sweet but not too sweet, a stark contrast to most of the cakes he had in the human world. Then again… when was the last time he had human world food? He quietly wondered when was the last time he actually sat down and ate desserts without doing some potion or project. Perhaps in these small ways, perhaps this was how you made him feel like he was a human being again.

Diavolo

When you requested to come over for some tea, he immediately accepted. He even worked extra hard on all his work as Prince so nothing would get in his way for this. The prince even rescheduled some meetings to be earlier, just to leave his afternoon free. Lucifer had been subtly rubbing it in the whole time that he’d gotten such a special treat. More like he mentioned it once. The Prince couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. After all, the brothers got to spend all their time with you and he only got a few precious moments.

When it was finally time, you were treated like the most important guest he ever had. As always. You were escorted to the tea room and as he had hoped, you had that delicious honeycake with berries and powdered sugar. The idea of you baking a whole cake just for him and Barbatos had him delighted. It went well with the tea too. He enjoyed finally having time to sit down and talk with you, even Barbatos relaxed a bit. He didn’t expect human world honey to be so gentle and sweet. Perhaps it was just how the human world was. Making things sweet and gentle. Like you.

Barbatos

The demon didn’t even need to look into the future to already know that the others would be begging or dropping hints about wanting some honeycake too. So he decided to take preemptive measures and give you extra honey to work with from the human world. He even began searching for teas that would match the flavor and texture of the treat. As expected, you sent a request to tea right on time.

What he hadn’t expected was the quality of your baking. He knew that Luke would be helping you but he was genuinely impressed. There weren’t even any bubbles or holes in the cake. What surprised him even more, was when you offered to feed him the cake. Of course, you gave the same offer to Diavolo but he was certainly not expecting it. Somehow you’d always made life that had become so predictable into something unpredictable. Even if it was in small ways. Perhaps he should add this recipe to his own collection of treats. Maybe you, him, and Luke could make mini cupcake versions later? So many choices…

Thirteen

Obviously, the honeycakes were the perfect choice as bait! She knew Solomon wouldn’t be able to resist a treat such as this! So when she invited you over, she clearly was just expecting to use it for her revenge on Solomon. And yet…. When she saw your smiling face and how happy you were making it, a tiny teensy part of her wanted to give it a small try. She didn’t want Solomon to get something too good as bait after all!

But when she tried it, her eyes grew wide with delight and she couldn’t help but devour the rest of the cake. You hadn’t even decorated it yet but it was already gone. She blushed and simply brushed it off.

“Can’t have that Solomon tasting this! It’s too good for him!”

At least that was her excuse. But now she’s already contemplating buying a whole beehive just so she has more access to honey, and therefore you have more ability to make more for her! It was the perfect plan. Besides… maybe she can use the bees for one of her traps?

Mephistopheles

It irritated him, all this buzz about a stupid cake. It was just a cake. He held little interest in trying some, even when you offered. He was nobility after all! His refined tastes would clearly be too much for such a common dessert. Mephi was fairly stubborn about this for a while. Then he heard that Diavolo had some with his tea and his tune suddenly changed. Now he was demanding for you to bake it.

When you did, either because you wanted to or you just wanted him to shut up, he was actually surprised. The treat was perfect. The cake wasn’t too strong nor was it flavorless. Its texture and even the cooking time were exactly right. Were you secretly some high-class baker? Now he’s struggling with how to ask more without making it look like he actually wanted more.

Raphael

The angel accepted your gift of honeycake well and ate some. He was delighted with the taste and told you so directly. You thought nothing more of it since he was so upfront and abrupt about it. Then the next day, he asked if you would make another one. You didn’t have any leftover honey and you told him so.

A few days later, Raphael directly handed you a jar of honey. He kind of just stared at you like some strange cat, clearly expecting you to drop everything and just make the honeycake now. You told him you’d make it some other time and he accepted this. Though you did catch him staring at you now and then. You swore you put normal honey in those cakes, so why was he acting like this? Little did you know, he just appreciated people making food for him and didn’t really consider you could make other recipes too.

(For the folks who requested it :D)

@zarakem @commander-slavik @ikevampharem @cosmic-caffelatte

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