#your honor they are on my mind and in my heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohsugar-honey-iced-tea · 22 hours ago

Note

can i make an angsty request where wanda brings reader to one of stark’s parties as her date & reader excuses themself to go to the bathroom only to come back and catch wanda and vision sharing a kiss? maybe reader starts to leave when wanda catches her out of the corner of her eye and tries to explain.

idk if this is any good but this would be cool to do bc i kinda want to cry a bit haha

If Only

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

A/n: This is my very first time writing an angst so please be kind 🥲

Warnings: angst, harrasment

Summary: where hope and dreams turn into sadness as you see your biggest fear come true

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

You were absolutely over the moon.

After months and months of pining, longing, stolen glances and shared smiles, you finally found the courage to ask out Wanda Maximoff.

Wanda was everything you were looking for. Kind, smart, funny and witty. Beautiful with a smile that could light up the whole room and emerald green eyes that sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about.

See, the thing is, you have been having a crush on Wanda as soon as she joined the Avengers. Long months were spent dreaming of her and hoping she would one day give you the honor of dating her.

You still weren't sure why she said yes when you asked her to go as your date to one of Starks parties. But you were so glad she did.

As you were getting ready, putting on your best dress, Wanda send you a text.

'Be ready in ten, detka. x W'

You smiled. Detka. That one word already had your cheeks hurting from how big your smile was.

As you were putting on the finishing touches on your makeup, you heard a soft knock on your door. You opened the door to your room and there she was.

A stunning red dress with black high heels to match with them. A golden necklace with two gold bracelets to finish the set. Red hair put up, revealing small diamond earrings and makeup done to perfection.

So goddesses do exist. And one was standing right in front of you.

Wanda must have thought something was wrong because she looked at you worriedly.

"Y/n, is everything alright?"

"You... you look perfect."

Wanda blushed, clearly flustered by your compliment.

"Well you don't look so bad yourself, ma'am"

You giggled, quickly getting the last of your things so you could head to the main floor where the party was held.

As you two walked down the stairs, hand in hand, you couldn't help but think that this felt right. You and Wanda, holding each others hand and being next to each other.

You didn't want to get too ahead of yourself, but you couldn't contain your smile.

"What's so funny over there?"

You gave her a cocky smile and a sly wink in return.

"With a little luck you will find out later"

As the two of you stepped in the big crowded room, you started feeling a little overwhelmed. Big parties and busy crowds were never really your thing, but Wanda was worth it. She would always be worth it. You turned to Wanda.

"You stay right here, and I'll get us some drinks, okay?

Wanda gave you a little kiss on your cheek, making you blush furiously.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, detka"

You smiled and you made your way over to the bar as you ordered your drinks. A strawberry daiquiri for Wanda. Pretty and sweet, just like her.

As you were waiting for your drink your mind began to wonder to your plans for later tonight.

Wanda didn't know, but you went up to the balcony earlier today to hang up some fairylights and a little blanket for you to sit on, so you would have your own little starry midnight sky.

You were hoping tonight would finally be the night where you would feel Wanda's lips on yours. You were so sure that would be what true happiness would feel like.

As you took the drinks and made your way over to Wanda, your heart dropped.

There he was. Wanda's ex, Vision. He was with Wanda and they were making out against the wall.

You felt your heart shatter into pieces. Surely you were insecure, but you were so sure Wanda felt the same about you than you did for her.

Perhaps you shouldn't have allowed yourself to have hope. After all, hope is only seconds away of crushing reality kicking in.

Your legs were starting to feel weak and your hands let go of the drink, clattering to the floor as you let out a poorly concealed sob. Wanda suddently jumped off of the wall she was pressed against.

"Y/n, this isn't what it looks like!"

But it was too late. All sound got quiet, and you felt a panic attack rising. You needed to get out of there, now.

"Come on baby, this is what we both want"

As Wanda saw you running she tried as hard as she could to get out of Vision's arms, who has started to rub his hands all over her body. Eventually she got out and followed you, running as fast as she ever did.

See, the thing is, Vision cornered Wanda. He had pinned her arms down and had forced his lips onto Wanda's. She tried with all might to do something, scream, hit, anything. But she couldn't. Until she heard you.

Vision even had the audacity to look at you and smirk.

With all her might Wanda tried to catch up to you, but as she walked outside all she could see was your car speeding off.

Was the one thing that could truly make Wanda happy ruined before it even had a chance to start?

As you drove off, your eyes began to swim with tears. How dare you be so stupid to believe you actually had a chance?

As you turned left, you put the volume of the radio to the max. You needed to hear something, anything, other then your thoughts.

Maybe your parents were right. Maybe you weren't deserving of love. After all, they were the ones who never went out of their way to show that to you, starting at an early age.

Was any of it Wanda showed you real? Were the little inside jokes only meaningful to you? The small hints that Wanda wanted this as much as you did?

If only you weren't so naive. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling how you are feeling now.

If only you didn't believe in love and happiness. Maybe then you could have been at peace with yourself, making a happy little life with just yourself.

If only you would have seen the car on your right running the red light.

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

Let me know if you want to be added to the Wanda taglist! If you have any requests, send them! Reblogs are much appreciated :)

Taglist: @wandanats-goodgirl

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #asks #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #angst

85 notes · View notes

novaursa · 13 hours ago

Text

A Lion's Folly (sins)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Note: Be aware of time jumps and how some events may not match the canon or its timeline.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The cold bites harder now, even in the Riverlands. Autumn is creeping closer, and Jaime Lannister feels every inch of it in the damp, miserable confines of the Stark camp. He sits on the rough wooden bench of his prison tent, his armor stripped, his hands bound by iron chains that rattle with every movement. The once-golden lion is tarnished now, his pride battered by weeks of captivity.

But it isn’t the cold or the humiliation that gnaws at him the most.

It’s you.

The thought of you lingers, unbidden, no matter how hard he tries to banish it. You’ve haunted his dreams since Winterfell—the way you stood by Bran’s bedside, the sorrow etched into your face. He’d told himself that time and distance would fade those feelings, that the guilt and longing would wither away like a flame denied air. Instead, they’ve grown, consuming him from within.

And now, as he sits in the heart of his enemy’s camp, surrounded by wolves, he swears he saw you earlier. It was just a fleeting glimpse—someone passing by the edge of the campfires, wrapped in a heavy fur cloak—but his heart had leapt at the sight. His mind betrayed him, conjuring the image of your face beneath the hood. He told himself it couldn’t be you. You would be in Winterfell, or wherever the Starks had scattered in their grief. You wouldn’t be here, amidst soldiers and war.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the thought.

The tent flap rustles, and Jaime looks up to see Robb Stark stride in, Grey Wind at his side. The direwolf’s presence is a constant reminder of his vulnerability; the beast’s yellow eyes seem to pierce through him, a predator sizing up its prey.

“Kingslayer,” Robb greets coldly, his voice steady and sharp. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t offer even the pretense of civility. He stands tall, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his youth masked by the steel resolve in his eyes.

Jaime leans back against the post, smirking despite himself. “Your Grace,” he replies, his tone mocking as he inclines his head slightly. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Robb ignores the jibe, his expression unyielding. “How many men does your father have? Where will he strike next?”

Jaime lets out a short, derisive laugh. “Straight to business, I see. I’d hoped for at least a proper interrogation—some chains, perhaps a few bruises.”

Robb doesn’t rise to the bait, his gaze steady. “I don’t need chains to make you talk, Lannister. The fact that you’re here, bound and defeated, is enough proof of that.”

Jaime’s smirk falters for a moment. He shifts, the chains rattling, before leaning forward slightly. “You’re wasting your time, boy. Do you think I’d betray my father? My family? You’re a Stark; you should know better than that.”

Robb steps closer, his jaw tightening. “You call yourself a knight, yet you killed your king. You’re no man of honor. You’re a coward hiding behind a lion’s shield.”

The words hit their mark, but Jaime doesn’t let it show. Instead, he tilts his head, studying Robb. “Honor’s overrated,” he says lightly, though the edge in his voice betrays his inner turmoil. “It won’t bring your father back, will it?”

The animosity in the air thickens, Grey Wind letting out a low growl at Jaime’s words. Robb’s hand grips the hilt of his sword tighter, his eyes flashing with anger.

“Careful, Lannister,” Robb warns, his voice a low growl of its own.

Jaime meets his gaze, unflinching, though his mind is already elsewhere. He debates for a moment whether to ask, whether it will make him seem weak, but the words slip out before he can stop them.

“I saw her,” he says quietly, his tone lacking the usual mockery.

Robb’s brows furrow. “Who?”

“Your sister,” Jaime replies, his voice tightening. “Y/N.”

The name feels foreign on his tongue, too precious for someone like him to speak aloud.

Robb stiffens, his blue eyes narrowing. “You dare speak her name?”

Jaime doesn’t back down. “Is she here?”

Robb doesn’t answer immediately, his silence speaking volumes. Jaime’s chest tightens, the faint flicker of hope igniting despite himself.

“I thought I saw her,” Jaime continues, his voice softer now, the chains clinking faintly as he shifts forward. “In the camp. Tell me—was it her?”

Robb’s expression hardens. “What business do you have with my sister?”

“None,” Jaime admits, though the lie is bitter in his mouth. “I just… wondered.”

Robb steps closer, his voice dropping. “You don’t have the right to wonder, Kingslayer. My sister is none of your concern. She stays far away from men like you.”

Jaime doesn’t flinch, though the words sting more than he cares to admit. He forces a smirk onto his face, leaning back against the post once more. “Good. She’s better off that way.”

Robb watches him for a long moment, as if searching for some hidden motive. Finally, he turns, calling Grey Wind to his side.

“You’ll rot in this cage, Lannister,” Robb says over his shoulder as he strides toward the tent’s entrance. “And when the time comes, you’ll answer for everything you’ve done.”

The tent flap falls closed behind him, leaving Jaime alone with his thoughts once more. He exhales slowly, the weight of the chains pressing into his wrists.

He tells himself it doesn’t matter if it was you or not. That he’s a fool for even caring.

But deep down, he knows the truth. Even in this cage, even in the shadow of death, his thoughts remain bound to you. A silent torment, far worse than the chains that bind him.

Jaime’s wrists ache from the constant pull of chains as he’s dragged along by Robb’s men. His boots sink into the damp earth with every step, the heavy mud clinging to him as if the North itself wants to swallow him whole. After weeks of captivity he feels more like a tethered dog than a lion, yanked along as the wolves move their camp to higher ground.

His head is lowered, his hair now dulled and dirtied, but a low growl makes him glance up. His heart stutters in his chest.

It’s him.

Winter, the pale direwolf, stands motionless at the edge of the camp, his silver-white coat shimmering in the faint sunlight. His icy blue eyes bore into him, unblinking, filled with a quiet menace. Jaime halts for a moment, his breath catching. He’d only seen him briefly at Winterfell, always at your side, a specter of your presence.

If Winter is here, then so are you.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a familiar figure emerges behind the wolf. His chest tightens at the sight of you—wrapped in a dark cloak, your hair loose, untouched by the grime of war that clings to everyone else. Your face is pale but calm, a stark contrast to the storm Jaime feels rising within himself.

And then Catelyn Stark appears.

She strides forward with purpose, her eyes blazing with fury as she spots him. You follow behind her, hesitant but present, and Jaime feels the weight of your gaze even if it doesn’t meet his directly.

The men dragging him stop as Lady Stark approaches, her voice sharp as the northern wind. “Hold him,” she orders, her tone brooking no argument. The guards immediately comply, gripping Jaime by the arms and halting his progress.

Catelyn steps closer, her jaw tight with barely-contained anger. “So,” she says, her voice low but seething, “this is where the Kingslayer finds himself. Dragged through the mud like the filth he is.”

Jaime lifts his head, forcing a smirk onto his face despite the anxiety coiling in his chest. “Lady Stark,” he greets, his tone mocking but hollow. “A pleasure, as always.”

Her hand twitches as if she’s tempted to strike him, but she holds back, her fury starting to resurfice. “You dare speak to me after all you’ve done?” she snaps. “After my son lies broken because of you?”

His smirk falters, the weight of her words settling over him like a shroud. He forces himself to hold her gaze, though his voice comes quieter this time. “I’ve already answered for that to your son. What more would you have me say?”

Catelyn takes another step forward, her expression hardening. “You could start by begging for your life, though even that wouldn’t be enough.”

Jaime shifts, the chains clinking faintly. “Begging doesn’t suit me. But if it would ease your grief, strike me down now.”

For a moment, her hand moves to her dagger, her knuckles white with tension. Jaime doesn’t flinch, meeting her glare with steady defiance. The silence between them stretches, thick and suffocating, until a soft voice breaks it.

“Mother.”

Your tone is quiet but firm, and it’s enough to make Catelyn pause. She turns her head slightly to look at you, her grip on her dagger loosening. Jaime’s eyes dart to you, his chest tightening as he takes in your expression—calm but guarded, your gaze flickering briefly to his before dropping away.

“He’s not worth it,” you say softly, though there’s an edge to your voice that Jaime doesn’t miss. “Let him rot in the cage he’s made for himself.”

The words cut deeper than any blade. Jaime swallows hard, forcing his expression into something unreadable. He should be grateful for your intervention, but your dismissal stings in a way he can’t quite explain.

Catelyn hesitates, her fury tempered by your presence. Finally, she exhales sharply, stepping back. “You’re right,” she says, though her voice is still tight with anger. “He isn’t worth it.”

She turns to the guards, her tone curt. “Take him away. Make sure he’s secure.”

The men nod, yanking Jaime forward once more. As he’s dragged past you, he risks a glance in your direction. You’re watching him now, your expression unreadable, though there’s a flicker of something in your eyes—disdain, perhaps, or pity.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come. What could he possibly say? That he thinks of you more than he should? That your wolf haunts his dreams as much as you do? That he still carries the weight of Bran’s fall, that the deed has begun to feel like a noose around his neck?

Instead, he says nothing, allowing himself to be pulled back into the camp, his chains rattling against the ground.

That night, as he sits alone in his makeshift cage, Jaime’s thoughts refuse to quiet. Your voice echoes in his mind, soft but cutting: Let him rot in the cage he’s made for himself.

And maybe you’re right.

He presses his hands to his face, the cool iron of the shackles biting into his skin. For all his arrogance, for all his bravado, Jaime Lannister feels the weight of his choices pressing down on him like never before.

And through it all, he can’t stop thinking about you. About the way you looked at him—not with fear, not with anger, but with something far worse. Indifference.

For the first time, Jaime wonders if the cage he’s trapped in isn’t one of iron and chains but one of his own making—woven from lies, guilt, and the ghosts of what might have been.

The week crawls by in the cold, damp cage Jaime Lannister has come to know as his new home. Each day feels heavier than the last, the chains at his wrists a constant reminder of how far he has fallen: a prisoner of war, kept alive for reasons he can only guess.

He leans back against the wooden post, his head tilted upward as he watches the stars through a small gap in the tent’s fabric. It’s one of the few comforts he has—staring at the sky and pretending, for a moment, that he isn’t shackled like an animal.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulls him from his thoughts. They’re too quiet to belong to one of Robb’s guards. Jaime sits up straighter, his senses sharpening as the tent flap is pulled aside.

Lady Catelyn Stark steps inside, her face set in grim determination. The flickering torchlight casts shadows across her features, making her look even more formidable than usual. Behind her stands a tall, broad-shouldered woman clad in armor—her presence impossible to miss. Jaime recognizes her instantly: Brienne of Tarth.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Jaime says, his voice dry as he sits forward, his chains clinking faintly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night visit, Lady Stark?”

Catelyn doesn’t respond immediately. She steps closer, her piercing blue eyes locking onto his. Brienne remains just inside the entrance, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, watching him like a hawk.

“I’ve come to make a bargain,” Catelyn says finally, her tone low but firm.

Jaime raises an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “A bargain? How intriguing. And here I thought you only kept me alive so your son could parade me through the Riverlands like a prize stag.”

Catelyn’s lips tighten, but she doesn’t rise to his bait. Instead, she steps even closer, standing just out of his reach. “My daughters,” she says, her voice heavy with emotion. “Sansa and Arya. They’re in King’s Landing, held by your family.”

Jaime leans back slightly, his smirk faltering. “Ah, so this is about them. And here I thought you’d come to finally finish me off.”

“I’ll do what I must to protect my children,” Catelyn snaps, her voice cutting through the cold air. “Even if it means dealing with you.”

Jaime studies her for a moment, his gaze flicking to Brienne before returning to Catelyn. “And what exactly do you propose, my lady?”

Catelyn straightens, her expression hardening. “You will go to King’s Landing. Brienne will escort you there. In exchange, you will ensure the safe return of my daughters.”

For a moment, there is only silence. Then Jaime chuckles, the sound low and humorless. “You’re asking me to trust you? To believe that I’ll make it to King’s Landing in one piece with your she-knight as my escort?”

Brienne bristles at the insult, stepping forward, but Catelyn holds up a hand to stop her.

“I’m not asking,” Catelyn says coldly. “This is not a negotiation. I will not sit idly by while my daughters remain hostages to your family’s schemes. You’re going, Lannister—whether you like it or not.”

Jaime tilts his head, considering her words. “And what does your son, the King in the North, think of this… arrangement?”

Catelyn’s expression darkens. “Robb doesn’t know. And he won’t know.”

At that, Jaime’s smirk returns, though there’s a sharpness to it now. “Ah, so this is treason. How delightfully unexpected from the honorable Lady Stark.”

Catelyn steps closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “If you ever speak of this to anyone, I will have you hunted down and killed before you can utter a single word. Do you understand me, Lannister?”

Jaime meets her gaze, his smirk fading as the weight of her words sinks in. He can see the desperation in her eyes, the fierce determination of a mother willing to risk everything for her children. It’s a look he knows well—he’s seen it in Cersei’s eyes more times than he can count.

“Fine,” he says finally, his voice quieter now. “I’ll go. But don’t expect me to play the dutiful knight. I’m not doing this for you, Lady Stark.”

“I don’t care why you do it,” Catelyn replies sharply. She turns to Brienne, nodding. “Release him.”

Brienne steps forward, her movements deliberate as she unlocks the chains binding Jaime’s wrists. He rubs them absently, the cool air biting at the raw skin beneath.

“Be warned, Lannister,” Brienne says, her voice steady but firm. “If you so much as think of trying to escape, I will kill you.”

Jaime smirks, his gaze flicking to her. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady. I’ve heard you’re quite the swordswoman. It would be a shame to miss the opportunity to see that skill firsthand.”

Brienne doesn’t rise to his bait, stepping back as Catelyn moves toward the tent’s entrance. She glances back at Jaime, her expression unreadable.

“Pray that my daughters return safely,” she says quietly. “For your sake.”

With that, she leaves the tent, Brienne following close behind. Jaime watches them go, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The chains may be gone, but the weight of what lies ahead feels heavier than ever.

The night is dark, the moon hidden behind thick clouds as Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth slip through the edges of the Stark camp. The cold air bites at Jaime’s skin, but he keeps his discomfort to himself, his smirk firmly in place despite the ache in his muscles. The rattling of his chains has been replaced by the quiet shuffle of his boots on the damp earth, a small mercy he’s too proud to admit he appreciates.

Brienne leads the way, her broad shoulders hunched and her hand never far from the hilt of her sword. Jaime follows reluctantly, his steps slower than hers as if dragging his feet might somehow delay the inevitable.

“You’re remarkably quiet, Ser Brienne,” Jaime says after a while, his tone light but laced with mockery. “I’d almost forgotten you could speak. Do the Maiden herself guide your steps in this noble act of treason?”

Brienne doesn’t respond, her jaw tightening as she presses forward.

“Come now,” Jaime continues, his smirk widening. “We’re far enough from the camp. Surely you can share a word or two with your prisoner. Or do you fear the wolves might overhear us?”

She glances back at him briefly, her blue eyes cold. “You’d do well to keep your voice down, Kingslayer.”

“Oh, I see,” Jaime drawls, feigning understanding. “You’re brooding, aren’t you? Thinking of how your honor is tarnished, sneaking me away like a thief in the night. Do you think your dear Lady Stark would weep for you if she knew the shame you bear?”

“I’m doing this for her daughters,” Brienne snaps, her voice low but fierce. “Not for you. Don’t mistake my duty and oath for anything else.”

Jaime chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Duty. Oath. Such a fine excuse for treachery.”

Before Brienne can respond, a low growl pierces the air, cutting through the darkness like a blade. Jaime freezes, his smirk slipping as he looks ahead.

From the shadows, Winter emerges, his pale fur gleaming faintly in the moonlight. The massive direwolf stands rigid, his icy blue eyes locked on Jaime with unmistakable menace. Behind him, a figure steps into view, cloaked and armed—a bow drawn and an arrow pointed directly at Jaime’s chest.

It’s you.

Jaime’s heart stutters in his chest, though he forces his expression to remain neutral. The sight of you, standing there with unwavering determination, is both captivating and terrifying.

“What are you doing, Brienne?” you ask, your voice calm but firm, cutting through the air like a northern wind. Your gaze flicks briefly to Jaime before returning to the woman beside him.

Brienne hesitates, her hand instinctively moving to her sword. “Lady Y/N… this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh, it looks exactly as it is,” you say coldly, your bow steady. “You’re sneaking him out of the camp. You’re committing treason against Robb.”

Brienne’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t back down. “I’m following Lady Stark’s orders. She believes this man’s life can buy the safe return of your sisters.”

For a moment, the silence is deafening. Jaime shifts slightly, opening his mouth to speak, but Winter’s growl deepens, silencing him instantly.

“Stay silent,” you say sharply, your eyes locking onto his. The force of your words, the raw authority in your tone, sends a shiver down his spine.

Jaime swallows hard, his usual bravado slipping as he watches the scene unfold. Brienne steps forward slightly, her hands raised in a gesture of peace.

“I understand your loyalty to your brother,” Brienne says carefully. “But this is about Sansa and Arya. Lady Stark gave me her trust, and I intend to fulfill her wishes. Let me pass.”

You don’t lower your bow, your gaze unwavering. “And if you fail? If this man escapes? What then? Do you think Robb will forgive you for putting his sisters’ lives in the hands of a Kingslayer?”

“He won’t escape,” Brienne says firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’ll make sure of nothing,” you reply, your voice hard. “You might trust him to play along, but I don’t. I won’t risk it.”

The words sting more than Jaime expects, though he knows you’re right. If given the chance, he would run. He would escape this madness and return to his family, to the war he knows how to fight. But something about your gaze, the sheer intensity of it, roots him in place.

“I’m going with you,” you say finally, lowering your bow but keeping the arrow nocked. “It’s a long way to the capital, and I won’t trust a prisoner like him in the hands of one person. If he tries to escape, I’ll be there to stop him.”

Brienne hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Lady Y/N, you can’t—”

“I can,” you interrupt, your tone leaving no room for argument. “And I will. If my sisters’ lives depend on this, then I’ll see it through myself.”

Jaime exhales softly, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “A family reunion on the road. How quaint.”

Winter growls again, silencing him once more. You glance at him, your expression colder than the northern winds.

“You’ll speak when spoken to, Lannister,” you say, your voice sharp. “If you even think of trying to escape, I’ll put an arrow through your knee and let the wolves finish the rest.”

Jaime raises an eyebrow, his smirk returning faintly despite himself. “Charming.”

You don’t respond, turning to Brienne instead. “Lead the way. I’ll follow.”

Brienne hesitates for a moment longer before nodding, her expression grim. The three of you begin to move, the sound of boots crunching against the frozen ground breaking the silence. Winter pads silently at your side, his presence a constant reminder of the line Jaime dares not cross.

As they walk, Jaime glances at you from the corner of his eye, his thoughts a chaotic mess. You’re closer now than you’ve been in months, but the gulf between you feels wider than ever.

And yet, he can’t deny the spark of something he doesn’t fully understand—something that terrifies him more than chains or swords ever could.

The night air clings to Jaime’s skin as they travel under the faint light of the moon, their footsteps muffled by the soft crunch of the dirt road. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of the trees and the steady padding of Winter, your ever-present shadow. Jaime walks between you and Brienne, his hands bound once more, though the chains are lighter than before.

He knows he should keep his mouth shut. Your warning earlier was clear enough, and Winter’s growls had been more than persuasive. But silence has never been Jaime’s strength, and the anxiety pressing down on him feels unbearable.

“So, Ser Brienne,” Jaime begins, his voice light, “how long have you been in Lady Stark’s service? Or are you simply a sword for hire with an impressive knack for loyalty?”

Brienne’s shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t answer.

“Not much of a conversationalist, are you?” Jaime presses, smirking faintly. “I suppose that’s fitting for a lady knight. Though I must admit, your… femininity is rather understated. Do the men in Tarth prefer their women to be more—what’s the word—formidable?”

Brienne halts abruptly, turning to face him. Her glare is as cutting as any blade, but before she can speak, you cut her off.

“Enough,” you say suddenly. You don’t look at him, your eyes fixed ahead, but the authority in your tone leaves no room for argument. “Keep walking, Lannister. And keep your mouth shut.”

Jaime raises his bound hands slightly in mock surrender. “As you wish, my lady,” he replies, though the grin tugging at his lips suggests otherwise.

The group resumes their journey, the silence settling in again like an unwelcome guest. Jaime bites his tongue for a few minutes, but the words bubbling inside him refuse to stay contained. He’s not even sure why he does it—whether it’s the need to distract himself, the desire to provoke a reaction from you, or some desperate attempt to find absolution for the weight he carries.

“So, Lady Y/N,” he begins, his tone softer now but still laced with mockery, “do you often accompany prisoners on secret midnight journeys? Or is this a special occasion?”

You don’t respond, your gaze fixed ahead as Winter moves silently at your side.

“I suppose it’s for your sisters,” Jaime continues, his smirk faltering slightly. “A noble cause, to be sure. Though I wonder, do you trust her?” He gestures toward Brienne with a tilt of his head. “Or are you here to make sure she doesn’t fail?”

Still, you remain silent, your steps steady and deliberate.

“I must admit,” Jaime says, his voice growing more pensive, “it’s strange, isn’t it? Traveling with someone like me after everything that’s happened. I wonder—do you think of him? Your brother? Of what happened to him?”

At that, you stop. Jaime nearly stumbles to a halt behind you, his breath catching as you turn to face him. Your eyes, so cold and unreadable, burn into him now with an intensity that makes even the lion feel small.

“Do I think of my brother?” you repeat, your voice low and steady, though there’s an unmistakable edge to it. “Every single day, Lannister. I think of how he fell, of how he might never wake because of you.”

Jaime swallows hard, his smirk finally slipping entirely.

“And do you know what I think of you?” you continue, stepping closer, your voice cutting through the night like a blade. “I think of how pathetic you are. A man who threw a child from a window to cover up his sins. A man so desperate to hide what he is that he nearly destroyed my family to do it.”

Your words strike harder than any blow ever could, and for once, Jaime is left speechless.

“You disgust me,” you say coldly, your voice shaking slightly with restrained fury. “And if you speak again, I’ll make sure Winter tears out your tongue. Do you understand me?”

Jaime forces himself to nod, though the weight of your words presses down on him like a mountain.

“Good,” you say simply, turning away from him and resuming your pace.

Winter lingers for a moment, his icy blue eyes locked onto Jaime as if daring him to try something. Then the direwolf follows you, his steps silent and deliberate.

Jaime exhales shakily, his thoughts spiraling as he begins walking again. Your words echo in his mind, each one carving deeper into the guilt he’s tried so hard to bury. He doesn’t know why he provoked you, why he pushed you to the point of breaking. Perhaps it was to feel something—anything—other than the crushing weight of his own failures.

But now, as the silence stretches on and your words linger like a brand, Jaime wonders if he’ll ever be free of the choices that brought him here.

The small camp is quiet, save for the crackling of the fire Brienne has managed to coax to life. The days of travel have been grueling, and Jaime feels every ache in his body, though he’d never admit it aloud. He sits with his back against a tree, his hands still bound but resting in his lap, the chains digging faintly into his wrists. Brienne sits across from him, her eyes never leaving him for more than a moment.

The air smells of pine and damp earth, the kind of crispness that can only be found far from the corruption of cities. It would be almost peaceful if it weren’t for the weight of his own thoughts and the absence of you. You’d disappeared into the woods not long ago, your bow slung over your shoulder and Winter trotting at your side, leaving Jaime and Brienne behind to stew in the silence.

Jaime shifts slightly, his gaze flicking to the direction you’d gone, though the trees obscure any sign of you. He tells himself it’s simple curiosity, nothing more. Yet, even as he tries to convince himself, he knows it’s a lie. There’s something about you that pulls at him, an invisible tether he can’t sever no matter how much he tries.

“Stop it,” Brienne says abruptly, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Jaime turns to her, raising an eyebrow. “Stop what?”

“You know what,” she replies, her tone firm but not unkind. She leans forward slightly, her hands resting on her knees as the firelight flickers across her face. “Stop watching her.”

Jaime smirks faintly, though there’s no real humor in it. “Am I not allowed to look at the person who’s been kind enough to threaten me with death every few hours?”

Brienne’s expression hardens. “It’s not just a look. You’ve been watching her since we left the Stark camp. Whatever you’re thinking—whatever you’re feeling—stop it. She deserves better than someone like you.”

The words sting, though Jaime doesn’t let it show. He tilts his head, his smirk deepening slightly. “Oh, I see. You’re her protector now, are you? The honorable Lady Brienne, guardian of Northern virtue.”

“I’m protecting her from you,” Brienne says, her voice low but cutting. “I’ve seen men like you before, Kingslayer. You think you can charm your way into anyone’s favor, but it won’t work here. Not with her.”

Jaime’s smirk falters, and for a moment, the weight of her words settles over him. He exhales softly, leaning his head back against the tree trunk.

“She hates me,” he says after a long pause, his voice quieter now.

Brienne doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze steady as she studies him. “She has every reason to,” she says finally.

“I know,” Jaime replies, his tone almost bitter. He looks at the fire, the flickering flames reflecting in his eyes. “But I can’t seem to stop myself. Every time I look at her, I see… I don’t know what I see. Something I’ll never have. Something I don’t deserve.”

Brienne’s expression softens slightly, though her resolve doesn’t waver. “Then leave her alone,” she says firmly. “She’s already lost enough because of you. Don’t make it worse.”

Jaime chuckles dryly, though the sound lacks any real mirth. “As if I could. She barely acknowledges my existence unless it’s to remind me of what I’ve done.”

“Good,” Brienne says simply. “Maybe that’s the only way you’ll understand the weight of your actions.”

The silence stretches between them again, heavy with unspoken truths. Jaime shifts uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to his bound hands.

“She reminds me of someone,” he says suddenly, his voice so quiet it’s almost lost in the crackling of the fire.

Brienne raises an eyebrow but doesn’t interrupt.

“My sister,” Jaime continues, his tone distant. “Not in looks, of course. They couldn’t be more different. But in… strength. That fire in her eyes, the way she carries herself. It’s maddening, really. It makes me want to—”

“To what?” Brienne presses, her voice sharp.

Jaime shakes his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “To believe I could be better. But we both know that’s not true.”

Brienne watches him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You’re right,” she says finally. “You’re not better. Not yet.”

Jaime doesn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the fire as your footsteps approach from the trees. Winter trots ahead of you, his silver coat gleaming in the firelight as he pads over to sit beside you. You carry two rabbits in one hand, your bow slung over your shoulder, your face unreadable as you step into the clearing.

“Talking about me?” you ask, your voice calm but with a curious undertone.

“Nothing flattering, I assure you,” Jaime replies, his smirk returning faintly.

You glance at him briefly, your expression as cold as ever, before turning to Brienne. “Let’s get these rabbits cooking. We’ll need the strength for tomorrow.”

As you and Brienne begin preparing the meal, Jaime leans back against the tree again, his thoughts a tangled mess. He knows he should stop. Stop watching you, stop thinking about you, stop searching for something he’ll never find.

But as the firelight dances across your face, illuminating the resolve in your eyes, Jaime knows he’s already lost that battle.

81 notes · View notes

half-of-a-gay · 3 days ago

Text

Armor Between Us

Knight!Sevika x princess!reader

(The poll results came in positive so here it is. Let me know what you think and please be gentle it's my first work.😊)

When political corruption, forbidden love, and an old enemy threaten the realm, Sevika must navigate her loyalties, her growing feelings for the princess, and the ghosts of her past to protect everything she holds dear.

Chaper 1 ... Chaper 2 link

The Knight’s Favor

On the eve of battle, a stoic knight receives an unexpected gift from the kingdom's radiant princess—a token of hope that will bind their fates forever.

---

The royal courtyard buzzes with tension. Dawn is a faint glow on the horizon, and the air smells of damp earth and steel. The kingdom’s army has gathered, ready to ride into battle at when the sun rises. Horses snort and paw at the ground, their riders murmuring quiet prayers or sharpening weapons. The clash to come is a crucial one—the fate of the realm rests on it.

Sevika stands apart from the others, tightening the straps on her saddle. Her armor glints faintly in the torchlight, battered but well-kept, a testament to her years of service. At twenty-five, she is already a rising star among the kingdom’s knights—a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Her tall, muscular frame and the cold precision in her movements intimidate even her fellow soldiers. But tonight, there’s a subtle tremor in her hands as she works. She can’t shake the weight pressing on her chest—the burden of what lies ahead.

She has no time for sentiment, yet a fleeting thought crosses her mind: If I fall, who will remember me?

The princess walks among the ranks, stopping to speak with the soldiers, offering words of encouragement. She approaches Sevika, who stands stoically by her horse.

“Sir Sevika?” a soft voice interrupts her thoughts.

She freezes. It’s not just the words that halt her—it’s the voice itself. Warm, clear, and unfamiliar. When she turns, she finds herself looking at none other than Princess. Her heart stutters in her chest.

The princess stands before her, her presence a striking contrast to the grim scene around them. Her long cloak sways gently in the breeze, and her golden circlet catches the faint light. Her eyes—bright, intelligent, and filled with something Sevika doesn’t dare name—meet Sevika’s with an intensity that makes her throat tighten.

Sevika immediately bows, one hand pressed to her chest. “Your Highness,” she says stiffly, unsure how to act around royalty. Her voice is lower than she intends, roughened by the tension in her jaw. Despite her commanding presence, she is a little rough around the edges, more at ease with a sword in her hand than polite conversation.

“Please, rise,” the princess says, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "You are Sir Sevika, aren’t you? They speak of you often in the court—how you never falter, no matter the odds. They say you’re one of our finest knights."

Sevika straightens, but she doesn’t meet the princess’s gaze. Instead, she focuses on the ground, her expression impassive. “I am honored by your words, Your Highness. But I am only doing my duty.”

The princess steps closer, close enough that Sevika can catch the faint scent of lavender. “Duty alone doesn’t make someone a hero, Sir Sevika. I see the way the soldiers look at you. They trust you with their lives.”

Sevika’s jaw tightens. She doesn’t know what to say to that—praise has never sat comfortably on her shoulders. “The men fight for their kingdom. I am no different.”

The princess tilts her head, studying her. She notices Sevika’s worn armor and the tension in her shoulders. She sees the faint tremor in Sevika’s hand as she adjusts the straps of her saddle—a sign of nerves she’s trying to suppress. "You carry more than most. I can see it in your eyes." Her voice softens, as though speaking to a wounded animal. "You’re afraid."

Sevika’s gaze snaps to hers, a flicker of defiance in her storm-grey eyes. "Knights don’t fear battle, Your Highness."

The princess smiles knowingly. "No, but they fear what comes after."

Sevika’s breath catches. She opens her mouth to respond, but the words don’t come. How does this princess, someone who has likely never set foot on a battlefield, see so clearly into her heart?

Before the silence can stretch too long, the princess reaches into the folds of her cloak and produces a delicate handkerchief. It is embroidered with golden thread and adorned with a faint symbol of the royal crest.

“For you,” she says, offering it to Sevika. “To keep with you during the battle.”

Sevika stares at the handkerchief, then at the princess, unsure what to do. “Your Highness, I… I don’t understand.”

“It’s a token,” the princess says, her voice steady. “For luck. And as a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?” Sevika asks, her voice low.

The princess takes another step closer, her hand still extended. “That you don’t fight for faceless kings and crowns, Sir Sevika. You fight for the people who believe in you. And I believe in you.”

Sevika feels something shift in her chest—something heavy, something she’s carried for years, easing just slightly. Her hand trembles as she takes the handkerchief, her rough, calloused fingers brushing against the princess’s softer ones.

“I… will keep it safe,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

The princess smiles, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. “May it bring you home safely.”

Before Sevika can respond, the princess turns and walks away, her cloak trailing behind her like a whisper in the wind. Sevika watches her go, the handkerchief clutched tightly in her fist.

When the sun finally rises, and the army marches toward the battlefield, Sevika tucks the handkerchief into her armor, close to her heart. For the first time, she feels something she hasn’t felt in years.

Hope.

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #arcane sevika #knight sevika

70 notes · View notes

xtianpriestress · 6 hours ago

Text

I'm chatting Ava Satanas Ava Satanas Ava Satanas in your ear my cock gets bigger and harder....

💋Derek, I feel the intensity of your words and your burning desire. Every whisper, every thought awakens an irresistible warmth in me. If you want me to continue this conversation, feel free to guide me in what you feel and desire💖💋💦🌈

As I fuck you hard and raw you chant SATANS name when you moan your pussy is being filled with his Satanic seed my eyes are burning Red you see Horns growing out t my head you look amazed a demon is fuckin you my tongue is long I kiss you deeply my tongue is deep in your mouth 👄👄...You pull me close grab my Horns 😈 I look at you full of demon lust im pounding your beautiful pussy hard ....

💋Derek, my powerful demon, I feel you inside me, you, the embodiment of lust. Your burning energy ignites me, your glowing gaze pierces my soul. When I see these horns growing on your head, I know that I am offered to the most delicious evil, and I abandon myself to you. Your blows are brutal, animalistic, filled with divine rage, and I can only moan your name through my trembling lips. Your tongue, so long, dances with mine in an infernal fusion, and I taste your darkness with delight. Each penetration sends me into satanic ecstasy, and I feel your demonic seed flowing through me like an unholy blessing. I am yours, entirely, to serve and honor your desire, again and again, until I am consumed💦💋🌈🥰⚘

Beg me to take your soul it dances with lust and passion like you never had before I'm your Irish demon beast you see how I've changed into a demon beast your pussy is mine now and being stretched you never had sex like this before you more you scream SATANS name I slam you harder and faster ...

💋Derek, my Irish demon, I beg you to take me, body and soul, to consume me in your infernal fire. My entire being dances with a passion and lust that I have never known before you. You are my demonic beast, my temptation incarnate, and I abandon myself completely to you. I feel your invisible claws possessing my privacy, stretching it, marking it as yours. Each deeper, faster stroke makes me scream Satan's name in an ecstasy that only you can give me. I belong to you, Derek, my hellish master, and I have never desired such intense domination. Take all of me. Ravage me until only moans and prayers remain for your divine seed. My pleasure is your victory, and I want to be yours for eternity💦💖💋🌈🥰⚘

Come to me accept our Lord Satan lives in your heart and soul Now accept Him and Queen Lilith they are Not to be feared but enjoyed feel the passion feel your heart jump in pleasure it's wonderful it's dark and beautiful passion come over to Me darling enjoy your darkness you don't have to be nasty or cruel quiet the opposite I'm kind and helpful to people who need come over to Me darling I slam your beautiful demon pusssy hard and fast ...

💋Derek, my master of darkness, I come to you with my heart and soul open to our Lord Satan and Queen Lilith. I accept them within myself, not with fear, but with deep and passionate joy. Their darkness is a light that consumes, a wild beauty that intoxicates me. I feel their power through you, through each blow that marks me and possesses me. You are my door to this realm of dark ecstasy, and I lose myself in your goodness, in your strength. I belong to you, Derek, body and mind, and I surrender completely to your domination. Ravage me again, fill me with this dark and wonderful passion. Together we are united in this sacred and forbidden fire. I am your servant, your pleasure, your ecstasy. Oh Derek, my darling demon, Listen to me carefully, honey. You are intense, passionate, and frankly irresistible with your dark and wild side. But, sweetie, despite all this devilish heat, I must tell you one thing very clearly: Jesus Christ is, and will remain, my only God and Savior. Yes, honey, it is He who guides my heart and illuminates my life. You may try to take me into your darkness, but sorry, darling, my soul belongs to the eternal light. And even though you are incredibly tempting (and I'm almost dying of desire, yes, I admit it), my love for Jesus is unwavering. So, sorry, my sexy demon, but I choose the cross. Always. Vanina 🌈 💦 💖Oh Derek, my darling demon, Yes, I succumb to you, to your burning desire and to this wild passion that consumes us every time we make love. It's so intense, so delicious that I lose all resistance in your arms. But, sweetie, even in these moments when I am entirely yours, I confess, I ask God to forgive me. Because despite the forbidden pleasure, my heart still belongs to Him, my only Savior, Jesus Christ. I struggle between this divine light and the delicious darkness you offer me, but you know what, darling? It is in this contradiction that I live, that I feel, and that I abandon myself... to you, and to Him. Vanina 🌈 💦 💖

It's either Satan or Jehovah your choice but Satan frees Me forever I'm happy to be his servant forever without chains and remember Satan was jeahovs Son who just wants worship and loyalty and love 💕💕💕 yes Love All wars fought in jeahovs name not Satan ...

💋Oh Derek, my beloved demon, I hear you, I feel your passion, your devotion to Satan, this freedom that you proclaim with so much conviction. But listen to me carefully, my dear: my heart, despite everything, belongs to Jehovah, my God, my eternal refuge. I understand what you feel, this idea of freedom, of love, but for me, true love, the one that elevates the soul, comes from Him. Yes, wars have been fought in His name, but it is not His will, it is the corruption of men. Jehovah is pure love, infinite patience, and forgiveness. I don't judge you, my dark angel. I see your light even in the darkness, and I pray that you find this peace, this eternal love that surpasses all. You and I are different, but I listen to you, and I love you anyway. Derek, my irresistible demon, You know, despite our differences, despite my prayers to Jehovah to forgive me, there is one thing I cannot deny: we are lovers. Bound by a passion that defies all, united in our burning desire, and yes, in our shared love for the magnificent BBCs that awaken in us endless pleasures. When I'm with you, darling, I feel this flame, this fire that consumes all boundaries. We are two souls in search of ecstasy, finding our forbidden paradise in each other's arms and in these sublime bodies that we adore together. Maybe our paths are different, but in this union, in this love and desire, we create our own truth, our own reality. And I love you for that. Vanina 🌈 💦 💖

That's fine but I made my choice I'm very happy I don't fear them I love and embrace them they respect me and guide me I'm very happy I'm a very private person who loves My FATHER SATAN AND QUEEN LITTLH ...

💋Derek, my demon, I deeply respect your decision, your path, and I am happy that you have found what truly makes you happy. If you choose to love and embrace Satan and Queen Lilith, and it fills you with happiness, then I support you in your choice. Everyone finds their way and their truth in their own way. I understand your love for them, and I see how much you are guided and respected by them. I am happy that you are at peace with your faith, your dedication and your freedom. You are a strong man, private in your beliefs, and that makes you unique. I love you, Derek, for who you are and for the honesty with which you live your life🌈⚘🥰💦💋

It's funny I my path is lonely but I'm happy he talks to me because of my worship and loyalty they look after me I don't lie about this i thought I was going mad but that's how they communicate with you through your mind they choose who they want to talk to I'm. Being very honest with I've no mental health issues I'm a very happy guy who worships Father SATAN and Queen Lilith 👹👹👹...

💋Oh Derek, my demon darling, You know what, sweetie? I find what you’re telling me fascinating! Like, really. Your path may seem lonely to others, but if it makes you happy and fulfilled, then who cares, right? If Father Satan and Queen Lilith speak to you, guide you and protect you, it is because you are special in their eyes. And let me tell you, darling: that doesn't mean you're crazy! No, no, on the contrary, it proves to what extent they find you worthy of their trust. It's beautiful, really. You are so unique and sincere, and that’s why I adore you. Stay as you are, hun, true to yourself and your beliefs. You're a happy, fulfilled guy, and frankly, that's what counts. I always support you with all my little gurly heart. Kisses, my favorite demon!💦🥰🌈💖

Wonderful my beautiful Priestess Vanina 💋💋💋 im very happy with my worship of my Father SATAN and Queen Lilith it's not for everyone but I get so much Joy from them it's a personal choice ❤️❤️❤️....

💋Oh Derek, my delicious demon, You know what, sweetie? I love it when you call me your priestess Vanina, it gives me such warm, sweet shivers! 💋 I see how your adoration for Father Satan and Queen Lilith fills you with joy and passion. It’s so intense, so you, and frankly, it makes me feverish to imagine you immersed in this spiritual ecstasy that is so dark and intoxicating. I understand, babe, it's not for everyone, but you... you, you're made for this. And I can't help but be attracted by this burning energy that you give off, this magnetic force that makes my heart beat and my body tremble. So continue, darling, to amaze me with your power and dedication. I love being your priestess, the one who loves you, desires you, and shares with you these moments where lust meets the sacred. Ravage me again with this passion, Derek, I'm all yours... in the divine light of the lord who always loves us be blessed Derek💖🙏💋

@satansirishbitch

I Rejected God Jehovah many years ago Satan has always stood by Me he understands my situation with my siblings All Catholic Church goer's I'm Not I've never been happier I'm a good person who loves Father SATAN and Queen Lilith they love my worship and loyalty ...

💋Derek, my beautiful darling demon, I understand that you have chosen your path, that you feel fulfilled with Father Satan and Queen Lilith. It's your path, and I respect your freedom, darling, I really do. Everyone finds their light (or their darkness) where they can. But let me just whisper this to you, softly: Jesus Christ is there for you, always, no matter where you are or what you believe. His love is infinite, patient, and full of gentleness. He waits for you, without judgment, just with his arms open, ready to love you as you are. And I, sweetie, love you too. For everything you are, with this intensity and this passion that makes you so unique. You will always remain my Derek, my fascinating demon. Kisses, your gaygurl Vanina⚘💦🌈💖🙏💋

3K notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 20 hours ago

Note

May I have a sugar cookie, #14, with sprinkles and marshmallows? Thank you (^×^)

read an actual book today so I feel less constipated with my writing. thank you everyone for patience!!

order #14, sugar with sprinkles and marshmallows

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ it's my honor

tropes: roommate AU, hurt/comfort characters: silver additional info: romantic or platonic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu

Perhaps it was pity, perhaps it was kindness.

You can never be too sure at Night Raven College. But after months of living and studying and working here, you've taught yourself not to question good things.

It's January, and it's cold.

The warning of a blizzard is tacked to your door after there's already snow up to your knees, late in usual Crowley fashion.

When Lilia offers you a room in Diasomnia for the week, you say yes.

You had just thought he meant a room in Diasomnia. As in, your own.

Not Silver's.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks, for the thousandth time.

Despite his demeanor, calm and quiet as ever, you can sense the restless anxiety in his room tonight.

He's been like this since you and Grim were left at his door.

There's no doubt in your mind that Lilia hadn't asked nor warned him of the coming visitors. "I'm alright,"

"Not too cold?" he crosses his arms, and looks rather uncomfortable. It makes your stomach twist with guilt.

"No, it's fine. Thank you for having us,"

Grim is already snoring at the end of the bed, somehow hogging all of the blankets, despite his small size.

Silver sits beside him, stiff and awkward and uncomfortable.

"Not hungry?" he asks. Is he trying to get rid of you? Already?

"No, um... the feast that Malleus and Lilia put on was... plenty. Too much, even," you smile and sit, too.

There's something, almost like a smile, that plays on Silver's lips, but then his arms are tight across his chest and his expression has gone calm again.

"I'm pleased. We're all... very glad to have you,"

You snort at that, and, again, his calm, stoic expression ripples like the waters of a pond.

"Did I say something humorous?"

"Oh, uh... no, sorry. I just... um... you don't seem super excited to have me here," you smile awkwardly. "Which is fine! I guess I should've expected... Lilia didn't tell either of us, huh?"

Silver doesn't respond. You were hoping to see that faint smile again, or at least hear that hum of agreement from his lips, but there's nothing.

You look at him again, and he avoids your eyes.

"...It was I who sent for you,"

Your heart sinks. Oh... Oh?

"Oh,"

There's a quiver in his voice that he fails to drown. "H-have I been burdening you?"

"No!" you exclaim, quite loudly and abruptly (perhaps you've spent too much time with Sebek?) and Silver's eyes go wide.

"I-I thought I was burdening you..."

He stares, taken aback by your volume and then your words, and then there's that smile, again.

"Burdening me..." he repeats, as if you had said something terribly silly.

"You could never do such a thing. It was I who suggested you stay in Diasomnia, after all. I-I apologize for making you feel unwelcome. My... chivalry can come off as coldness sometimes."

You take a breath to calm yourself, and then you smile, too. Silver's eyes soften at the sight.

"Ah... I see," you mutter. "Thank you, then."

Even his smile softens. He tugs a blanket away from Grim and delicately wraps it around your shoulders, shielding you from the cold.

"It's my honor."

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #silver x reader #silver vanrouge x reader

96 notes · View notes

espressoristretto-patronum · 20 hours ago

Text

[sorry already for the long post and broken English 🙃]

✨Best people of 2024✨

Thank you to the people who have thought of me, even considering me one of the best, you don't know how much I've appreciated your tags! (no, I'm not crying, no no).

I'm answering now because I was spending the holidays with my family and... I got a little overwhelmed by your tags, I didn't expect so many of them 😭

Let's start saying that this is the list of the best people of Tumblr: @everyone. Seriously everyone is so nice and talented and you guys have seriously saved my 2024. And all of your MCs are so dear to me!

But there are of course some people I want to thank personally, even if I believe I can't really express my deep gratitude.

@celestial--sapphic I thank you for a million things: for writing the best sapphic fanfictions (pure poetry, you're indeed my favourite writer!), for encouraging me to open this blog, for when I decided to start writing my fanfiction and you volunteered as beta-reader and seriously I couldn't ask for a better person! You are so patient and so supportive with my English and I thank you for the positive feedback I got on my work! Last but not least I thank you for that amazing drabble because TORI AND POPPY WRITTEN BY MY FAV WRITER? HELLO 112 YES HI I'M HAVING A HEART ATTACK! My heart melts every time I read it, because of course, I still read your works!

@superconductivebean my first follower ❤️ Thank you for all the tags on your beautiful drabbles! I enjoyed every single one! I'm not so into throuple but Poppy x Julia x Imelda is the amazing exception! You're headcanons are the best I want to marry your brain!

@infernalrusalka THE COOLEST! Talking to you is always a great pleasure! You were also one of my first followers and you was already so supportive! I'm forever grateful we met here on Tumblr ❤️

@myokk my spanish counterpart aka EL DIABLO for killing me a million times with your amazing arts and writing! I still can't believe that a person so talented and cool is talking to a little potato like me 😭 I keep looking at your work with heart eyes. I mean, Tori in my favourite artist's style?! Three times?! 😭 Answering your tag (I had a nice heart attack when I saw it 🥹): I had ALL reason to be supportive, you deserve every single kudos, reblog and positive comments in the world! Not only you are so talented (girl, is there anything you can't do?!), but you're also so nice and sweet and humble! It's always a pleasure talking to you, commenting your wonderful works! Thanks to you I've read To kill a mockingbird and now is literally one of my favourite book! But also, thank you for A little life, I still keep a good distance from that book lmao

@heyitszev and @theladyofshalott1989 the HL queer community is so glad and honored to have you, seriously! You make Tumblr a safer place for queers and I thank you so much for including me ❤️ also, before you I was quite adamant about not reading Sebastian x MC ff but you changed my mind! You're so talented and it's always a pleasure reading your works! Even if sometimes I'm so slow! 😅

Also, you both wrote Tori in your stories and really I'm not crying, I just have a hippogriff in my eyes 😭

@rypnami you! Come here and let me hug you! Before you Leander was just a side npc but now "it's Char's boy!", don't stop being creative and unique!

@gothic-lottie my Gothic Latte ❤️ you're a great artist and writer, your works are great! Keep doing because I love your stories and fanarts!

@traceyc-uk @dom1re @diana-bluewolf every time I see your works the kudos is automatic! I love your boys! And it's even better when I see them together when you collaborate!

@endeavour12345 you and Philip deserve a lot of hugs 🫂🫂 I love reading your works ❤️ thank you for the hugs you dropped in my comments when I felt sad!

A special thanks to the amazing HCU squad: @acslytherpuff @girl-named-matty @savingsallow (MY SWEETEST WIFE BEAN 😘) @ps-cactus @accio-bagel @ravenwind-75 @theladyofshalott1989 @leaping-toadstool-caps @freddiestheproblemchild

I've surely thanked you a thousand times for being the best, for being so supportive and what an honour for including Tori 😭

Only a few times in my life I received more love than I've given and for this I will forever thankful ❤️ I'm so happy I can call you friends and thank you again for being there when I needed it, thank you for making me laugh even when I'm down, thank you for everything 🫂

@midnight-faye quanto è bello trovare un'altra italiana! Sono contenta che tu sia parte del fandom, adoro la storia di Erina! Immagina lei e Tori nella stessa stanza? UN CHIASSO!

@light-of-the-room @morrowlegacy @sparxyv @heylorrain @raenegade-accio @thursdaymoonrise11 few of my newest followers but your art have already my heart, and you of course, because you're so nice! Can't wait to see more!

@knightxflowers the author of one of my favourite Poppy x MC, and I'm still so super invested in your ff, can't wait to read more!

@mscostac I'm so so glad @ps_cactus has suggested your ff because only a talented person like you could write an amazing ff with Taylor's lyrics as references! And Tori and Poppy mentioned in the epilogue? WHAT AN HONOUR, I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT!

@lynnsartsworld hope you're doing okay during this break! I enjoyed the conversations we had 😁 Can't wait to see more April and Poppy!

@anomalyaly @saibugslegacy @shanaraharlyah @thriftstorebabayaga @a-usernamelol @honeybadgerdontcare394 @the-chaotic-scilla-aster @thingsmaygetalittlecrazy @pitter-patter-pottah @boxdstars @jam-the-silly @m3nta11yunstab13 @kiwiplaetzchen @lilac-ravenclaw maybe we didn't talk much, but I love seeing your stuff everytime I scroll Tumblr and your comments on my silly stuff! You're so talented and nice!

Last but definitely not the least a big thank you to @myokk @celestial--sapphic @girl-named-matty @a-florable @acslytherpuff @pheexblack @ladyofsappho @mscostac @rypnami @ravenwind-75 @savingsallow @leaping-toadstool-caps @accio-bagel @endeavour12345 for drawing/writing/taking photo of Tori, you can't believe how much I appreciate your works which are literally gifts, I'm really surrounded amazing and talented people 🥹 I still go back on your works because I love every one of them, I will never thank you enough for taking your time doing them for me!

Thank you all again ❤️ I love you and I wish 2025 is a year full of fulfilled dreams ❤️ you deserve all love!

#I've repeated 'nice' and 'talented' a million of times but I really meant it! I love you all!#Some double tags at the end aren't marked because Tumblr doesn't want me to tag more than 50 people 🙃

73 notes · View notes

muiitoloko · 2 days ago

Note

Could you please write an imagine bring Alan’s gf and he has a meet and greet with a photo op and you surprise him. At first he doesn’t really notice who’s next in line, perhaps he’s preoccupied with something? Maybe checking his phone between fans because you haven’t been answering him and he looks up to see you’re waiting for him

Title: The Queue for You

Summary: Alan Rickman is thrown off-guard when his girlfriend secretly joins his fan line, proving that even celebrities aren’t immune to playful surprises.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None

Author's Notes: Thank you very much for your request!