#i think he would be so terrified to leave rose | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youryanderedaddy · 2 months

Note

can you write gentle yandere taking their darling for the first time vs mean sadistic yandere taking them for the first time?

Btw I love ur work 💖💘💗

tw: female reader, non - con, kidnapping, obsessive/possessive behavior, sadism, degradation, slut - shaming

Gentle ~

You know the type of guy I'm talking about. Big and buff, dark - haired, cries a lot. Watches romance movies in his free time and actually calls his mother even outside of the holiday season. Wears slutty little black fitted shirts after working out and brings you smoothies after work. He smiles and blushes. The man is a massive loser with an undying passion for anything nerdy, be it dragons, board games, collecting marks. Who would really expect this poor soul to hurt even a fly?

But he does.

It doesn't happen until months after he's taken you in. Most of the time he's being the perfect gentleman (aside from literally keeping you captive) - he cooks for you, brings you roses and chocolates (even when you throw them away or tear the petals from the flowers), cleans and doesn't make you lift a finger. He reads you poetry until your ears bleed. He tells you he loves you one hundred times a day and seemingly doesn't care about your snorts or the way you roll your eyes and push him away, already so used to your living situation you can't even find it in yourself to be scared. You think he's harmless - as harmless as a lovesick puppy.

But then one night he comes home, an unusual frown on his otherwise soft face. There is a certain type of madness in his hazel eyes. They are still so very soft and adoring, he still sees you as a Goddess in need of worship... but there is also something dark and muddy. Something possessive.

Your captor kisses you on the cheek and that much is granted - he does it every day, along with shouting "Honey, I'm home" at the door. He hugs you - tight. Tighter than ever before, it feels as if the man is trying to crush you in a suffocating embrace, like he wants to swallow you whole within his arms. For the first time you realise just how muscular he is - how much stronger he is. And then he picks you up like a blushing bride and leaves a quick peck on your forehead before taking you to the bedroom and carefully laying you down.

He doesn't give you time to ask questions - as soon as he steps a foot in your shared room, he's already tearing apart his clothes, revealing his ripped form.

"See anything you like, sweetness?" the man asks you, rubbing his hands together as he towers over you, caging you between two beefy arms. You stay silent for a moment, mouth agape at the suddenness of it all - you have never seen him like this. He starts caressing your cheeks and slowly moves down, and that's when it finally settles in your mind. You need to act quickly.

"Stop." you say authoritatively, just like you have done so many times before, praying it would work like it had in the past. But not now. This time he simply shakes his head, a crazed smile playing on his lips as he lowers his head and kisses your neck softly, lovingly. It's terrifying. You're not used to this. You don't know how to react. "Baby, I can't hold it in anymore." Your captor whispers, head resting against your shoulder, voice low and desperate - almost whiny.

"I really tried." he swallows thickly. "I swear. I tried cold showers a-and thinking about bad things but..." he bites his lip, staring at you. You look so small and helpless and, God, he respects you, he really does, but he can't help the way his crotch twitches and his pants tighten as he watches you squirm and tremble, oh-so-small and panicky, defenceless little hands scratching at his arms, but failing to make him budge.

"But every time I come home all pent up and annoyed after dealing with bastards all day, all I want is to bend you over," he continues after moving a lock of your hair out of the way so he can whisper directly into your naked ear. "And fuck-”, he says as he pins your hands to the bed frame, enjoying seeing you wiggle and pant. "The shit-" he can feel your heart beat faster and faster as your whole body gets warmer. It's awfully intimate. "Out of-" he's so excited now that he grabs your hips rather roughly, and ruts against your core, whimpering as his crotch rubs all over your clothed slit. "you".

He growls, now more akin to a lion or a bear than to a human.

He tries to enter you slowly so he wouldn’t hurt you, but the moment your tight velvety walls wrap around his hard throbbing length, he’s reduced to a feral whimpering mess, shoving at you in short sloppy thrusts, completely pussy - drunk. He lasts less than five minutes before he pulls out and cums all over your stomach, watching in fascination as his seed marks you. He slams his lips against yours, swallowing your hushed protests as he murmurs “Mine” over and over again, gripping your hips closer when he feels you pulling away.

Once his brain has cleared enough to be able to think properly he helps you clean up, touching you so gently you wonder if this wild, brutish side he exhibited was all but a dream. But it’s still very much there, barely contained under the surface - and one single moment of freedom and passion is enough to open Pandora's box.

After that night he feels a lot more comfortable with touching you, for better or worse.

Mean ~

He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to your ‘new life’ before he basically pounces on you like a predator. To be completely honest, he’s wanted to fuck you within inches of your life since the time he first saw you - the only thing keeping him at bay for a while were the countless pretty pictures he had of you naked and writhing in your own bed in the comfort of your home that all the secret cameras he had installed managed to capture.

Before he used to treat your home footage like his own personal cam - girl show; sometimes he would wait to leave work, jerking all over your face on his screen the moment he gets home. Other times he wasn’t so patient, and he had to sneak off to the restroom any time a thought about you occurred, stroking himself to completion as he blasted his recordings of your quiet moans on his headphones.

But now you’re here in the flesh - the real thing, tied so tight you can’t move an inch, trembling all over just like a bunny caught in a trap by the hunter. He wants you completely immobilised - he’s waited ages for this moment and he wants absolutely no distractions getting in the way of him finally taking his price.

You sob pitifully, your mouth the only part of your body left uncovered, and you try to plead with him desperately. You promise him money, influence, anything he wants - whatever would be able to get you out of this hellish predicament. You even offer to give him a blowjob - which he simply sneers at, grabbing a fistfull of your hair.

“Oh, doll, the night is still young. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” He looks possessed, ready to feast on your flesh. You shiver, curling into yourself as much as possible - but he pulls your legs on both sides of his thighs, his hands seeming grand across your rickety ankles. “You’ll get your chance to choke on this cock soon enough.” He grabs his bulge crudely, massaging it through his thick stained grey pants. “Right now all I want is to see this cute little pussy stretched on my meat and those pretty tits bouncing in the air as I slap them red.”

It really doesn’t matter if you’re a virgin or not, you’re getting brutalised either way - although his comments would be different.

If you’re a virgin, he’s making sure you get the whole of his length in one - there is something terribly amusing about the toe - curling scream you let out as his cock tears you apart, something borderline pornographic in the way your brows twist and your nostrils flare, lips shut tight as to not give him the pleasure of hearing your pain out loud. But it’s obvious, and he wants you to know that he enjoys it through and through - licking your tears and the sweat off your neck, pinching at your thighs, your breasts, your stomach; whatever makes you cry the most.

If you’re not a virgin, he still finds a way to get his fun out of you.

“I don’t feel you clenching on me, you little slut.” He smacks your cheek with little force behind it - it’s not meant to hurt you, but to humiliate you and drive his point across. “Did you have a fucking train ran on you? I should have known you’d be a filthy whore.” He bites at your lower lip, pulling at it until he hears you whine pitifully - leaving his mark on you. “Should’a known with these cocksucking lips of yours, and ngh-” He sinks into you, voice breaking once the tip of his dick brushes against your cervix. “And t-those slutty hips, shit, keep squeezing me just like that, n-ngh, I am going to ruin you all over again!”

He fucks you for who knows how long - when he’s finally satisfied, the sun is already up and you’re drenched in sweat and cum. There isn’t a single part of your body that doesn’t ache.

He leaves you there, snickering at the sight of your empty stare fixed on the ceiling - only reaching to untie you and cuff your ankle to the bed frame instead. You weakly raise an eyebrow in question.

“Stay here until I come back, okay?” He grins with malice, caressing your wet matted hair. “Hah, not that you can really go anywhere.”

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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jyoongim · 3 months

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Themes: posessiveness, slight yandere behavior, mentions of cannibalism, softcore smut,

After 7 years the Radio Demon is back!

But things arent how he left them…

Vox has taken it upon himself to be in charge of all things media

Radio has turned to Video

And Alastor’s little darling aint in her place…oh that just wont do

Your relationship with the Radio Demon was like a match made in Hell.

Alastor was a wild card by himself alone, but you? You never failed to keep him on his hooves?

You had been in the media world looong before Alastor popped up in Hell, having the title (ironic) Media Demon but somehow he managed to bring back the old themes that were once appreciated.

Not those podcasts or vlogs the youth were so prone to do

But things from the good old days.

Things that were considered ancient in the sense of modern tech.

Radio; Talk shows and actual live broadcasts.

Alastor and you quickly rose in popularity in the media realm [(you had a sneaky suspicion it was because he was terrifying and people honesty clung to an overlord’s word)]

You and Alastor had separate broadcasts, but you worked perfectly in sync with one another. Until one day…the Radio Demon disappeared, leaving you to run your show alone.

You did what you could, but the people seemed to miss the charismatic broadcaster as much as you and soon you were approached by Video.

“C’mon y/n, This will be a great improvement to your brand.” Vox smirked as you sipped the tea you were offered. You frowned. You were aware that media came in all formats but you enjoyed the ‘old’ way. “I dont know Vox, i prefer to be out of the camera’s eye” you said. Vox had been begging for years for you to join his team and claiming it would ‘boost’ your reputation. You didnt need a boost. You were THE Media Demon. If anything, you knew it would boost HIS popularity.

“Radio is so old-fashion, video is the future! You should be up to date with these things” he said. You grimaced “i am well aware of the trends, but not everyone likes this new savvy way, it is good to have a little variety”

Vox was getting annoyed.

Having you on the Vees would not only boost his claim to fame, but it would boost his power.

“The people would love to see the Media Demon in the public eye. You use to sing right? How about music production? You would kill sales with that voice of yours”

He was trying to butter you up.

Everyone knew you were a renown singer. A popstar once. You only showcased it a few times broadcasting when it was late at night and were in a mood.

Alastor loved to hear you sing.

“If you made videos people, your image can skyrocket” he continued.

You set your cup down, standing, having heard enough.

“I appreciate the offer Vox, but I will decline. I quite like stereo” and with that you left.

You made your way to the Hazbin Hotel.

To Alastor’s radio tower.

You sighed as you sat and stared at the station.

Maybe i should take Vox’s offer you thought as you collected your topics and put your headphones on.

You turned on the radio and did a count set

“How ya doin tonight folks? Its your favorite radio host and tonight you are in for a treat!” you gave the daily Hell gossip and opened the line for discussions. Letting out a laugh from a few of the responses you finally sighed “I have been offered the damning chance to retire from radio” you started. “I am sure you are all aware that I am fabulous of course, but i mean reverting to video can you imagine? And the audacity of Vox to even suggest just a thing. I think i do quite alright for a media connoisseur” you giggled.

As you chatted away you were unaware of the dark presence manifesting in the tower.

“Dial in im opening the lines to hear your opinions”

You listened in

“I think it could be good to switch it up!”

“Youre the Media Demon you could crush anything!”

“Y/n youre incredible!”

“Video kills the Radio star!”

You were about to chime in when a deep static like voice sounded

“I think you mean Radio killed the Video star”

Your eyes widened and spun around to see Alastor

“A-Alastor?”

His devilish smile sharpened as he pressed a button to cut the lines and removed your headphones “its been a while darling”

You couldnt help yourself as you launched at him for a hug.

You quickly recovered and let him go, stuttering “oh oh im sorry but w-what are you doing here? I-i thought you were gone”

Alastor grinned, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a kiss to it

“Ooooh mon cher i could never stay away from you”

You blushed.

Alastor pulled you into an embrace, his grip a little tight

“So what it is i hear of you forsaking radio?”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #Alastor x reader #hazbin vox

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morverenmaybewrites · 1 month

Note

Once they are in a relationship, do you think Jason would be more comfortable sleeping in a bed with reader or alone? I could imagine either for various reasons

I think for a long time, Jason would be more comfortable sleeping alone, all the while desperately wanting to physically sleep together.

At any stage in the relationship, but especially in its early stages, Jason would be deeply insecure about how his trauma and his work could affect his partner.

He'd come home at odd hours: at dawn, just before the sun rose, perhaps midday after a particularly long case, reeking of blood and gunpowder. And he'd find himself moving as quietly as he could in his own home, doing his best not to disturb you. He'd probably just collapse on the couch than risk waking you.

Then, there were the nightmares, the ones that would have him wake up with a scream still lodged in his throat, the ones that would have him rising from the bed on shaking legs, so that he could vomit in the bathroom sink.

The ones that he would do anything to hide from you.

Because while he trusts you, there is a part of him—the part that had once been Robin, the part that had been left alone to die in the dark—that is terrified you will leave when you find out just how broken he is.

I think for the most part, he'll want to sleep alone, even when he needs the comfort.

There might be days when you catch him off-guard, though. Perhaps after a particularly rough case, one that has him stumbling through the doors of your shared home, already half-asleep with exhaustion. Perhaps he'll find you reading a book in a patch of sunlight by the window. Perhaps you had just finished baking, and the house smells like coffee and freshly-risen dough.

And for a second he'll think that he doesn't want to be alone.

"Busy?" he asks in a voice so ragged with exhaustion that it doesn't even sound like him.

When you shake your head, he'll find himself sitting right next to you on the couch, still reeking of blood and gunpowder.

When you try to ask about the case, he briefly considers lying.

But when he looks at you, he finds that he doesn't want to lie. Because even through the thick leather of his gloves, your hands feel warm against his. Because you look beautiful in the honeyed light.

Because, he thinks, that maybe you will not leave him alone in the dark.

"Can I stay here?" he asks.

"Jason," you say. "this is your home, too."

Home, he thinks.

He hasn't had that since Wayne Manor burned down.

This time, he does not move quietly as he removes his helmet, his gloves. They hit the carpeted floor with a muffled thump.

This time, he does not move away.

Instead, he lays his head on your lap, and lets himself melt against the warmth of your skin. He watches the sun dance across the ceiling of the apartment, and he inhales the scent of coffee and freshly-risen dough and the sweet scent of you.

He feels your hand gently stroking his hair and he thinks: yes, this is home.

This time when he sleeps, he does not dream.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd and the mortifying ordeal of being known HA #my attempt at a cozyfic lol how did i do #i wrote it while watching evil dead rise

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rainyyynightssss · 27 days

Text

Twisted Wonderland

Reacting to you trying to go back home

Characters: Overblotters

Notes: Yandere/Toxic themes involved

"Crowley thinks he might've found a way for me to get back home!"

Riddle Rosehearts

He looks at your smiling face and something in him breaks. He should be happy for you, he really should. This is what you had wanted from the beginning. To see your family and friends. To be free of magic and almost getting killed by overblots.

But you should've been happy here. He'd order his card soldiers to keep the rose garden in prim condition for you to gaze upon whenever you visited. The birthday parties always included a dish you liked. You got along well with Trey and Cater. Sure, Riddle was strict with his rules, but he grew more lenient with you. Surely, you could see that.

"That's wonderful news. And you're...happy to leave?" He tries not to let his voice crack as he grips one of the legs of the table they had just used to share dinner together. Apparently for the last time.

"Of course, I'll be happy to see everyone back home. It is a bittersweet feeling though. I'll miss you all." He chooses to ignore the 'all' part of your phrasing for a moment. You'd miss him and isn't that enough reason not to go?

"We'd all miss you as well....I, especially,-"

"But I think it'll be good for me to go and be back with my family, you know?" You add and he tenses again. He knows well how important family could be, and he also knows how burdensome they are. His mother forced him to adhere to strict guidelines, and while it shaped him into the respected house warden he is today, it also made him afraid. Terrified, even, that everything would go wrong if the rules were not followed.

Perhaps that's what you needed. A healthy dosage of fear and some rules to keep you in line. You were his perfect rose, blooming and unblemished. You had always managed to drag him away when he got too deep in his studies and talked him down when his face became as red as the flowers in his garden. But now your edges have grown frayed. You're trying to go back to your roots but he'd rip you out of the ground, thorns and all, to keep that from happening.

"Right. Well, it's gotten quite late and it wouldn't be proper for you to walk back to Ramshackle this late at night." He sensed your confusion even before you could voice it. You've taken plenty of late-night walks before and this would hardly be on the top list of most dangerous things you've done at the school.

"I can walk back-"

"I insist. I couldn't let you go...to your dorm! This late." Riddle shakes his head and covers his blushing face with a hand as he stands up from the table. "I have a room for you. If you'll take it?" He offers his hand to you, hoping you will miss the small trembles.

You smile at him again and take his hand, sending warmth even through his gloves.

"Just for tonight." You nod. Riddle gives you a small, though tight at the ends. His rose didn't need to know about the details of their stay, only that it was going to last longer than they thought.

"Of course. Although I must make sure you have an adequate stay. Rules indicate that guests should have the most hospitable experience, no matter how long that takes to fulfill." Riddle answers with ease and you see nothing wrong with it. His rose would blossom even more under his careful watch.

Leona Kingscholar

"And?"

The notion of you leaving was laughable to him. You had already managed to barge your way into his life, ruining his plans at the Spelldrive competition, ruining his nap routines, and ruining his pride as a prince. And he wouldn't have it any other way. Though the latter is still mostly kept intact.

You look at him, seemingly flabbergasted by his dismissal.

"And...that means I'll likely be leaving soon." You tell him. He sees your small frown. You must think he doesn't care that you're leaving. But it was quite the opposite. As much as he would never admit it to himself, he cares so much that he denies any possibility of it happening. He knows you don't actually want to leave.

Leona watches you sit up from his bed that both of you had been lying in for the past few hours. He grasps your wrist before it can leave the sheets. His grip is tighter than usual. Leona had always been like that. He demanded respect and expected you to follow. You, of course, were not so willingly submissive to him but that made it all the more fun for him to make you.

"Ruggie isn't going to be back 'till later tonight. I've got more sleep to catch up on. Especially after you bothered me last night." Leona tugs your wrist to bring you back closer to him while he rests his other arm under his head. Last night you had came to him, clearly anxious about something and didn't want to be alone. Anyone else he would have turned away with a scoff, but he's found over time that he has a hard time refusing you. As long as it didn't involve you trying to run away from him.

"Are you even listening to me?" You narrow your eyes at him and he smirks.

"I have and it sounds like a buncha nonsense. Go back to sleep and maybe you'll forget your dumb ideas in the morning." Leona grumbles and pulls you to his chest. He hears you huff but you don't resist, lying back down beside him. He doesn't know exactly why you're having these kinds of thoughts but it doesn't really matter to him. If you want to run, he is glad to give his precious prey a chase.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul's hands freeze in the air, his fork and knife about to cut into the juicy salmon that had been plated beautifully in front of him. He glances up at you, his smile also frozen on his face, as you were just talking about how much you enjoyed Night Raven College and the Mostro Lounge. All until you abruptly switched to this topic he thought he was doing a good job at evading.

"Ah, isn't that...delightful?" His words would have come off as calm to anyone else, but you notice the slight strain in his voice. You always seem to see right through him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you-"

"Upset me? No, quite the contrary. I think it's wonderful the headmaster has finally secured your passage back home." Azul muses and goes back to cutting his salmon, though it's obvious that his cuts are a bit more jagged.

"Yes... he said it could be any day now." You respond carefully. You try to offer him a smile as you take another sip of the drink he gave you on the house. He could see the small ounce of hope in your eyes of going back to your world. That wouldn't do.

"Is that so?" Azul takes a bite of his food, swallowing before adding, "It's really too bad you won't be able to go then." He continues eating, ignoring your confused eyes as if he didn't just say the strangest thing.

"Why wouldn't I be able to go?" You ask slowly. "I mean, the transportation might be difficult but-"

"It has been a while so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you forgot." Azul sighs and dabs his face free of any smudges with his napkin. "You may not step out of the bounds of Night Raven College by any means, including the Dark Mirror."

"According to who?" You let out a disbelieving laugh.

"According to Article 3 Section 5 of the contract you signed." Azul takes another bite of the salmon, not letting himself react when you slam a hand on the table.

"What contract?! I never signed anything!" You snapped. He remains as calm as ever. This time, you couldn't read him, couldn't even see his eyes through the glint in his glasses.

"You must remember when you agreed to work in the Mostro Lounge for a couple months. I had you sign an employment contract. I warned you about reading it through to the end. A suggestion I don't give to most poor, unfortunate souls in this school." Azul answers.

He did indeed give you the small packet to look through and recommended reading it all. It wasn't his fault that Floyd made a commotion in the kitchen just as you started reading the end portion. Azul urged you to sign it while he dealt with the mess that Floyd undoubtedly caused and you did, just missing the statement that required you to be on-call even after your employment ended, and being on-call meant you always had to be within a certain range of the lounge.

"You can't be serious." You utter quietly with wide eyes, realizing exactly what he was talking about.

"I'm afraid I am. But don't fret too much. I think you'll come to like it here." Azul smiles again. A smile that's hardly recognizable.

He watches you jump up from the table and storm out of the lounge, passing confused customers who glance back at him. He takes a drink from his glass. Azul isn't worried about you walking out. You couldn't leave here, leave him, anyway. And if you tried to hide from him, he would just send Jade and Floyd to hunt you down. You have become one of his prized possessions, and he isn't going to let you go that easily.

Jamil Viper

"Really? It's about time." Jamil comments as he starts chopping the vegetables you prepared in a bowl.

He had invited you to try some new recipes with him that he'd then distribute to the Scarabia students. For the past few months, you had been inviting yourself into their kitchen, much to Jamil's annoyance. You always offered to help him and he always declined, especially when it came to Kalim's meals. He was not going to lose his job over a pretty face. You respected his refusals but you still liked to watch him for some odd reason. Today, he finally decided to let you help him.

He appears to be half paying attention to your words while you're stirring the stew. "Haven't you been waiting a while?"

"I have. Crowley's been pushing off researching but I finally made him go through with it!" You look quite proud of yourself and if Jamil wasn't so irritated, he might have thought it was cute.

He simply hums in response and continues swiping his blade through the onion, each cut sharper than the next. He should be fine with you leaving. People come and go, after all. It would make things easier for him as well. He would stop getting distracted so easily, riddling his fingers with knicks from the blade when his thoughts drifted off to you.

"Kalim also promised to help me pack my stuff. He's eager for me to see my family." He sees you smile absentmindedly as you stir. Jamil's hand clenches tighter on the knife.

"Of course he did." He mutters to himself. Kalim got everything we wanted, didn't he? He got the wins, the praise, the Housewarden title. And now he was going to send you off. Jamil bet he was even encouraging you to go and like always, Jamil would just have to accept it. Only this time, he wouldn't. Jamil never got anything he could have to himself, always having to share with Kalim. You would be the one thing he could keep just for him.

"That reminds me, I needed to ask you something," Jamil says and you look back at him. He takes a step closer to you and leans forward, whispering the name of his unique magic. His lips widen into a smirk as he watches your irises fade to red.

"You'll be staying here, won't you?"

Vil Schoenheit

He raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow as he works to pluck yours with tweezers.

"Hm? That's not the line, darling," Vil says. In your hands is the large packet of paper that contains Vil's script for his upcoming film. He had asked you to practice lines with him. You agreed and in exchange, you asked him to put some makeup on you. It was something he's been wanting to do anyway so he obliged. All was going well until you dropped this bombshell on him.

"I know, I was trying to figure out how to tell you and I accidentally just blurted it out," You sigh.

"Mhm. And Crowley has- Close your eyes, now - provided a way for you to get back home safely?" Vil asks as he moves on to your eyes, brushing an eye shadow across your lids that matches your skin.

"I don't know if anything about that man is safe, per say, but he did seem pretty confident about this." You respond as you keep your eyes closed for him. Vil shakes his head with a small 'tut'. The headmaster didn't exactly have a track record for reliability. He voiced exactly this to you.

"Crowley may just end up sending you on a one-way ride to nowhere. There's no telling where he could send you, why not wait for a few trial runs?" He places a hand under your chin. "And besides, why do you need to go home so badly?" Vil puts the palette back down and takes a tube of lipstick in his hand.

"Well, I want to see my fam-" You're forced to stop talking until he finishes applying the lipstick, "I want to see my family and finish everything I had going on there."

"If that's the case, I don't see what you could do back home that you're unable to here. And if you want to see your family, shouldn't you make sure your travel is safe so you can get back to them in the first place?" Vil questions as he wipes the small smudge of lipstick from the bottom of your lip with his thumb.

"That's...true." You nod reluctantly. Vil smirks a bit as he moves his hand towards the back of your neck, his thumb tilting your head up so you can look at him properly.

"Correct. And if I'm not mistaken, you've built quite the life here, haven't you?" He watches you slowly nod and he soothes the back of your neck with gentle fingers.

"You really want to throw that all away?" Vil looks down at you with questioning eyes even though he already knows the answer. You shake your head.

"No...but I also know that's something I'll have to do if I want to go home." You tell him firmly. Vil lets out a sigh and turns away from you for a moment.

"If you say so, but at least let me leave you with a parting gift." He turns back towards you and presents a small perfume bottle with a fancy font across the lid that you can hardly. It would no doubt cost hundreds in the market.

"My own creation that I've been working on. You're the first to have it." Vil says as he hands it over. You take it with a bright smile.

"Thank you! I'll try it on as soon as I get back to Ramshackle." You respond excitedly as you move to stand up from his makeup chair but he places a gentle hand on your wrist.

"I'd like to hear your critique as soon as possible. You are my perfect model, after all." He says with a glint in his eyes. You didn't seem to have any problem with that and sprayed a few spritz of the perfume on yourself, promptly passing out in the chair. You would get it through your head eventually that you belong here. You just need a little more convincing.

Idia Shroud

"Hold up, what?"

Your sudden words caused him to press the wrong button and his character gets brutally killed by one of the forest monsters in the game. You wince and put down your controller, turning towards him on his remarkably soft couch.

"Yeah...sorry to tell you so late but it looks like it could be soon." You say and Idia tosses his controller to the side, facing you as well.

"So you're gonna go? Just like that?" He asks in shock. You only recently just started playing video games with him in his room. Before, you had to practically beg him just to play a game with you when you were both in different dorms. It took a lot of convincing but he soon gave in after some persuasion from his brother. Once, you showed up to his room to see if you could play in person and he stared at you with wide eyes for about five seconds before slamming the door in your face, apologizing later over text.

He was unbearably anxious around you at first but he got used to the idea that you wouldn't judge him so easily. So he showed you another side, his more competitive and ill-mannered side to see if that would make you go away. And you still didn't. You instead embraced him for it. So why now were you just going to forget about all that?

"I-I mean I have to," You were clearly caught off guard by the intense look in his eyes, "I have a home and a family and friends-"

"Yeah, yeah, sure but what about everything you have here?" Idia insists.

"Everything I have here?" You ask.

"Y-Yeah, those first years, Grim, your dorm, me- many other things!" He stammers out. It would be way too cringe to mention himself deep down he hopes he's one of the things that could keep you here.

"Of course I'll miss everyone, but I miss everyone back home too," You say. Idia sighs deeply as he throws his head back on the couch.

"You're reallly set on this, huh?" Idia asks. You bite your lip and nod.

"But I still-" You try to add but he cuts you off.

"No, I get it. I wouldn't wanna be around me either." Idia sighs again. You look at him with wide eyes and fervently shake your head.

"No, it's not like-"

"You must have better friends back home if you're so desperate to see them again." He adds as he looks away with a frown. You don't notice him peeking back at you. You sigh and tilt your head so you can fully meet his gaze.

"Look, I'll talk to Crowley, see if he can push it back a bit." You tell him. He looks at you curiously.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna pressure you if-"

"No, it's okay. I want to spend more time with you and everyone anyway." You give him a small smile and he smiles back. He could play the pity card all day if it meant you'd stay.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus pauses in his steps, looking at you with a wide, curious gaze.

"You're leaving?" He utters. The two of you had been enjoying your nightly walks together back to Ramshackle. After one too many fights and attacks happening after hours on campus, he thought it best to escort you back home. He could easily teleport you both back to your dorm, but it gave him a good excuse to be around you more.

"Yes, hopefully it'll be soon. I'm excited to go back!" You smile enthusiastically and Malleus can only offer a grimace back.

"I suppose you could say I'm a little surprised. I thought you were happy here. Did I assume wrong?" He asks as he continues walking you to your dorm. Normally you would have never been able to keep up with his pace but he always kept a slower one for you.

"Oh no, I am happy here. My friends have been wonderful and I'm glad I'm friends with you. There's just some things I could do without." You mention offhandedly as you gaze up at the moon. He looks down to see it reflected in your eyes. The moon is wondrous but all he can see are the eyes that pinned a man who could never yield so deeply. You managed to befriend a dragon who is intimidating in every manner. That kind of connection isn't so flimsy that it could be dismissed by thoughts of departure.

"Things such as what?" Malleus perks up at the idea of solving one of your problems. As powerful as he is, there are a number of things he can't help you with. He couldn't do anything about your assignment getting deleted after your internet 'crashed' or about the friendship problems you once had with the Heartslabyul boys, but he's always eager to listen, just as you always do with him.

"It's just some rowdy guys from Savanaclaw who are still mad about the Spelldrive competition. They've been bothering me a bit but it's not a big deal." You tell him and he stops the both of you this time with a hand on your shoulder.

"Bothering you? For how long?" Malleus didn't mean to turn his hard glare on you but he couldn't help the fury building up inside of him. Many of the students already noticed your looming shadow that often followed you around like a lost puppy, which was usually enough to keep them from trying anything. Malleus isn't naive enough to believe that students at this school are always on their best behavior when he has his own business to deal with in the Diasomnia dorm. However, he swiftly and discretely took care of any nuisances that he happened to notice. He didn't think you were keeping anything from him.

"Like I said, it's not-" You try to soothe him but his glare only hardens.

"For how long?" Malleus repeats and he doesn't plan to a third time.

"For about a month now...but I can handle it myself!" You insist but he ignores the latter half of your sentence as his face morphs back into a gentler one.

"So that's what's been burdening you? I wish you'd have told me sooner but it's no matter. I'll take care of it." Malleus assures you.

"I mean that's one thing, but I have other reasons-" He cuts you off with a pat on your head as the two of you stop in front of Ramshackle's doors.

"You don't have to ruminate on it any longer. Do try to tell me about any other troublesome students in the future. I'll handle them and anyone else who tries to ruin your happiness here at Night Raven College." He vanishes in a flurry of lights before you can say a word. Any serious notion of you leaving is unthinkable to him, and if you do come up with more reasons, he'll make sure to take care of those as well.

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glitch-karma · 9 months

Note

hai i want to req a scenario where bsd characters has a crush on the reader and tries dropping hints but the reader just thinks that they’re being nice :D

characters: yosano, nikolai, akutagawa, ranpo, jouno

I added Chuuya cause I am self-indulgent, but enjoy!

Tw: Very light talk of characters being very touchy, but still sfw

Yosano

she's so obvious

Constantly complimenting you

Saying how pretty/handsome you are

Maybe a little touchy iykyk

She honestly wants to confess and have a serious relationship with you

and she's been trying to drop hints but..

"Oh Y/n~, you're so cute I could eat you up.."

"Huh? You can't eat people Yosano! Do you need something to snack on?"

"ugh. No, thank you, dear..."

Finally, she'll confess to you after patching you up after a small mission.

"Y/n.. I uhm, really like you."

"Awe, I like you too Yosano! You're my best friend"

She falls on the floor momentarily before just jumping up, grabbing you by the collar, and kissing you.

"O-Oh!" "Yeah. Oh."

"So? Do you.. Like me too?"

"W-Well. If it means we could do that agai- MPHM!"

Nikolai

Another obvious one

Now he's the real feeler upper

He will not let you GO MAN

Definitely a grabber too

I have this vision of him full-on grabbing your ass and you're just like "Oh? What's up, Nikolai?"

Surprise hugs from behind

He lets you braid his hair

Unlike Yosano, he will not be as patient

He'll grab your hands, get down on one knee, and scream:

"Y/n~! I love you! Please go out with me so we can be free together!"

You are not expecting this at all

So you shakily nod

Then he'll pick you up bridal style and run around with you in his arms <3

Akutagawa

Now with him

I wouldn't fucking notice either bro

His idea of hints is odd

"You don't suck at fighting.."

"Uhm... Thank you?"

He's read that some people give food to their crushes, so he'll randomly just set a cup of tea down on your desk

Since it's a food he likes, he'll also just leave figs on your desk???

It's, very confusing to say the least

In this case, I don't see him ever actually confessing

it was actually Chuuya that found out and pushed him along

Aka, he dragged you both into the same room and pushed Akutagawa along

but it all worked out in the end

Ranpo

Oh my God you gotta be real dence

CLIMBS ON YOU?

LIKE FULL ON SCALES YOUR BODY AND SITS ON YOUR SHOULDERS

And when you get tired and ask him to get off he's just like "Nah I'm good."

Shares his snacks with you

You brought him sweet mochi one day and that was the day he vowed to marry you

You thought he was joking?

Likes pitching your cheeks

"You're so squishy and cute Y/n~ Just like a dumpling" "Ranpo that hurts-"

The way he confesses I hear you ask?

One morning he just, out of nowhere kisses your cheek.

You FLIPPED out and he was just confused

"oh, are we not dating?" "WHAT? NO?!"

He didn't realize you were too busy to notice his feelings

Jouno

Side note: God we need more Jouno hc's fr tho

Jouno's way of showing he loves you?

Training you to the mfing bone.

Bro does not let up

If you're a hunting dog it's even worse

Y'know that scene where he stands on tecchou's back?

He does that all the time

Sometimes hits your head too

But, if he sees you're genuinely struggling he eases up

Honestly, he shows hints in very small ways that you wouldn't notice

Like a small pat on the back or bringing you water after a long day

All the other hunting dogs can see the way he listens extra intently when you talk as well

Another thing, he remembers almost every conversation you two have even had.

So he knows all your interests, likes, and hobbies

He would probably just casually do a normal confession, bring you a rose and a gift <3

Chuuya

Chuuya is terrified of letting people get too close to him (Kinnie moment-)

So for a while he wouldn't make any attempts at a relationship with you at all

But after you've stuck around him for years, even when others didn't, how could he not be smitten for you?

After a while of denying, he'll finally drop hints

He'll offer to drive you too and from work (mostly for the excuse to have your arms around him)

He also started bringing you lunches on Monday's

Has bought you jewelery and chokers galore

The expensive ones too cause he rich rich

He will drunkenly confess

"Damn.. Why do you have to go and make me fall in love with you?"

"..What?"

He has never sobered up so fast

He tried to stand up and leave, but you grabbed him and hugged him tight

After a few seconds, he did the same

#bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #chuuya x reader #bsd fanfic #bungo stray dogs x reader #ranpo x reader #jouno x reader #yosano x reader #nikolai x reader #akutagawa x reader #glitchs✧works

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mayfieldss · 4 months

Note

Oooo for Secret santa can I please request a Carmy x fem!reader where he proposes on Christmas?

Our boy is stressed

Carmen was not in any way calm. He was trying to be, but in his mind there were a thousand possible things that could go wrong. He'd never been afraid of the word no—he didn't like it, but he wasn't afraid of it—but today, he was terrified.

He had a ring in his pocket, simple and elegant, picked with the helped of Sugar, and she'd promised Carmen that you would say yes. She said she was sure of it, that nothing was going to go wrong.

You loved him and he loved you. Nothing could break what you had. Except maybe a ring and a question he'd wanted to ask for weeks now. He knew asking you to marry him on Christmas would either make or break the special day, and considering how bad Berzatto Christmas day's had been in the past, Carmen really didn't want anything to make it worse. Like you saying no for example. But maybe, if you said yes he could ignore everything else crashing down around him, because he would have you, and the knowledge that he would get to be your husband.

He'd woken up early that morning and snuck out of bed to prepare the scene, but the more he looked at it, it all seemed too much. Would he scare you off with the roses he'd placed in a vase on the table, or with the gingerbread scented candle he'd lit that morning?

When you woke up though, stepping groggily into the kitchen for coffee, you seemed happy.

"Merry Christmas, Carm." You mumbled as you came in for a good morning kiss. The small peck left him feeling flushed on the cheeks even though it was a common enough occurrence, and when you turned to see the flowers on the table a smile lit up your features.

"For me?" you whispered in delight and Carmen gave you a gentle nod, following you to the flowers with his hand placed softly against your back.

"Only if you want 'em." he jokes, and you grin over your shoulder as you pull one of the roses from the vase, inhaling deeply.

"Thank you." You coax him forward to give him another kiss, showing him just how much you appreciate the gesture. Carmen feels fulfilled for a moment, and the stress leaves him as he digs his fingers into the flesh below your hips. He thinks maybe he can convince you to stay like this the whole day, and you can, together, ignore the madness of Christmas from everyone else's perspectives. But he knows that isn't possible, that you have to go see your family, and then his to keep the peace. The peace is important.

He cooks you breakfast and you eat together, in no rush as the morning drags by, and when Carmy finally convinces you to head to the lounge so he can give you a gift or two, it's almost midday.

"Me first," You say, picking up a gift with "Carmy" written on it in scribbled letters. You hand it to him gently, cautious as if you're afraid he won't like it. He takes it from you just as softly, and you shuffle closer, legs crossed on the couch beside him.

When he opens the gift, its a hand decorated frame, a picture of you and Carmen standing outside the restaurant placed behind the glass. It's simple but it warms his heart, and he reaches out for you, tugging you into his side.

"I love you, baby." he mutters against your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. There's a wide smile on your lips when he pulls back to look at you, and a hopeful glimmer in your eye.

"You like it?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course I like it. I love it."

He hands you a gift, which as you unwrap it, is a pathetic box of heart shaped chocolates, but you smile and thank him anyway, not caring about the gifts at all. He gets from you a denim jacket, new and unique, and finally the time comes for him to face his fears.

"I've got one more thing," He says, clearing his throat nervously, "Well, it's more a question than a thing, I don't know, fuck, you'll see." He can feel the weight of the ring in his pocket and he wonders how he should do this. In the movies they always get down on one knee, hold up the ring like it's a crown waiting to be worn, but to Carmen that doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like you and him.

He sits on the couch facing you, legs crossed and mimicking your position until you're looking at each other in something kind of like a trust exercise. You're grinning as Carmen sits anxious in front of you and the eye contact makes you snort a quiet laugh.

"What is it?" You ask, poking his knee affectionately.

"I uh, fuck." Carmy reaches into his pocket, and now there's no turning back. You're looking at him expectantly, a little nervous yourself with how much anxiety is radiating from his being. When you see the small box in his hand, the navy blue velvet square makes your eyes widen. "I love you. I know I don't say it enough but I do, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you, if you'll let me." He opens the box, gently, presenting you with the ring inside. "Will you marry me, baby?" His voice is shaky and he watches as your hands come up to cover your mouth in shock, eyes flickering from the ring in front of you to Carmen's face in disbelief.

"Yes, I'll fucking marry you, oh my god!"

Before Carmen can think of putting the ring on your finger you're leaping into his lap, wrapping him up in the tightest hug ever as you both tumble off the couch from the force of your embrace. He doesn't have time to say anything either, because you're kissing him like a madwoman, you're excitement clear.

"Merry fucking Christmas." Carmy mumbles when he can finally get a word in, holding you tight against his body.

I hope you like it! thanks for joining in the celebration!

CARMEN BERZATTO TAGLIST: @thrutheburnout @diorrfairy @norriebunny @yeschefthankyouchef

THE BEAR TAGLIST: @live-love-be-unique @kpopgirlbtssvt

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spncvr · 2 months

Text

worries | s. reid

summary: you worry for spencer, it's human

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: TENDING WOUNDS TROPE HELLO, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, blood (in a metaphorical way ???) ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE PLS BEAR WITH ME, lowkey kinda sappy, reader kinda cries, like, alot, lmk if i missed anytihg !

a/n: tryying desperately to force myself out of my writers block so here's a WIP i forcedmyself to finish (its 1 am rn bye). send me requests??for??ideas?? i beg.

THE SMALL LIGHT BULB that dangles from the ceiling casts a soft glow on everything it touches. The light, never quite bright enough for your liking (you never got around to changing it) bathes the room in a gentle hue, softening the edges of the couch, carpet and shelves. That akin to the way it bleeds against his skin, with this kind of grace that seems to make scars on his face look kind and soft.

“Hold still,” you chide, trying to clean the wound on his eyebrow; a harsh reminder of the day’s chaos. And when he does you mumble, “You’re such an idiot.”

His response is a small smile that sits against his lips, warm and understanding. His hands gently find their place on your thighs, grounding you as you straddle him “Yeah, I know,” he says.

“You shouldn’t’ve just … lunged at him like that.” It’s a plea wrapped in a scold.

You duck your head down to avoid his careful eyes. You think, if he can’t see you, he can’t properly read you; a futile attempt, really. But still, you think, if he can’t see the worry within your eyes he’d just let it go; that he wouldn’t know that you couldn’t help but think, what if, the unsub had gotten the upper hand, and what if it was much worse than just a measly cut on his eyebrow. These thoughts, the feelings, seem to constantly plague your mind in your darkest moments; ones that would make you feel like your heart is pouring out your chest, like rose thorns poking at your ribcage, that’ll bleed you dry with worry.

“What’s wrong?”His voice is soft, laced with concern, and it breaks through your defenses. The fingers that were on your thigh are now under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him, a silent entreaty for your honesty. His gaze is now on yours, stagnant and unwavering—and your lips start to quiver, and tears threaten to spill. Quickly, you hide your face into his shoulder.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your words are barely a whisper.

“Of what?”

“I’m terrified for you.” your words are muffled in his shirt “What if—” you say, helpless, “What if it was more than just a cut on your eyebrow Spence, what if I— when—” you can’t finish your sentence. Not when he’s rubbing your back and kissing your head so softly and so kindly it makes the tears from your eyes spill and paint soft patches on his shirt.

“You won’t,” he tells you with a conviction, that he wears so effortlessly like his own skin, “I won’t. I’m not leaving you.”

“You can’t say that,” you protest weakly, “you can’t know that. Look at Stephen he— God, Spence. You of all people know that you can’t possibly know that—”

“Hey, no,” he scolds quietly.

But you're already looking at him, your face off from his shoulder. “Don’t tell me not to worry. Don’t tell me I can’t talk like that. You’re my boyfriend. It’s apart of caring. I should worry for you, so let me worry. It wouldn’t be human not to.”

“I know,” he says, soothingly, then, “I’m sorry.”

You wipe your tears frantically with your arm before continuing to tend his cut. “I wish the FBI had force fields around their agents.” you say, through a small smile, “Wish they could wrap you up with thick blankets.” It’s a childish thought.

His laughter is kind and genuine, it fills the space between the two of you, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you nod with a smile that finds its way through your tears.

“You take such good care of me,” he says, eyes never leaving yours.

Maybe it was his words or the way it had slipped from his tongue; maybe it was how his fingers, rough and calloused, had grazed against your delicate ones. But here, as he sits with a smile on his lips, (a lopsided lazy thing), all scarred and bruised, did you know that you love him. But love was a concept you had cared for and attended to. You loved your mother, your friends. You loved books and their characters. You loved the darkness, the night. You loved your job, and its challenges. You loved music and movies. You loved home, and it's all too familiar feeling against your skin. And suddenly this concept —love— seems too small, too narrow to encompass what you feel for him. There isn’t a word or phrase made —nor did you think there ever would be— to describe just how much you had felt for him.

But in short, you do love him, very much.

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steveshairychest · 1 year

Text

Steve and Robin have been working at the plant nursery for months. It was the only job that would hire them both, and it's honestly been the best job they've had.

Steve loves taking care of the plants, loves the way the outdoor plants wave at him in the wind and sparkle in the sunlight after he's watered them. No one gives him weird looks when he talks to the plants because everyone that comes in understands, they're all plant people too, they know talking to plants is hard to resist. Steve loves that they are very good listeners, especially the ferns in the back corner of the nursery. They brush their long arms against Steve's cheek and make him feel so much better after he's finished dumping all his problems on the poor plant.

And then they get a new employee, a guy with long curly hair and too many tattoos and piercings for Steve to count. His name is Eddie. And he does not have a green thumb. Not at all.

Steve can't understand why the nursery hired this guy! He's hopeless!

Steve watches in horror from behind his beloved ferns as Eddie accidentally chops the head off one of the gorgeous rose blooms while pruning and then tries to hide the evidence. He walks away from the rose bush with the poor chopped off bloom clenched tightly in his fist and then he dumps it in the compost bin.

Steve spends the rest of the afternoon glaring at the new guy while talking to the poor rose bush. Eddie flushes a shade of red similar to the rose he murdered any time Steve looks at him, and Steve hates how pretty he looks, hates that it causes a small smile to pull at his lips.

And then Eddie drops a watering can on a peace lily, a peace lily that Steve spent weeks nurturing back to life and the spell Eddie put on him with his flushed cheeks and big, brown eyes is broken.

Robin pities the poor new guy, she can see he's struggling, so she just makes him do all the heavy lifting with her. She doesn't want him anywhere near Steve's precious plants. She saw Steve reach for his giant pruning shears a few days ago when Eddie went near his ferns.

"You know he's terrified of you." Robin says to Steve on their joint lunch break. They're sitting on a stack of soil bags watching Eddie potter around and show people the plants they're looking for. Steve will give him that, he's good with people. Really good.

"Why? I'm nice." Steve takes a bite of his sandwich and avoids Robin's stare. He knows she's giving him the 'don't bullshit me' stare and if he looks, he'll crumble and do something ridiculous like admit he has been kinda mean to the new guy and that he should have just helped him out from the start instead of threatening to chop his fingers off every time he touched Steve's plants.

Steve sighs. "OK, fine. I've been a dick." Robin nods and steals the last bite of Steve's sandwich.

"Now, make it right and play nice with the pretty boy."

"He's not pretty."

"That's not what you said to your precious ferns yesterday. I think you said –" Steve walks off before she can finish and ignores her laughter as he stalks over to where Eddie is crouched in front of the baby succulents.

Steve clears his throat to get his attention and the poor guy jumps in fright and nearly smacks a succulent off the stand. "Steve! Hi! I was just talking to them. I promise."

Steve stifles a laugh and sits down on the floor in front of the low plant stand. He gently pulls a dead leaf off one plant before offering Eddie a smile, a truce. "That's good. They like it when you talk to them. I actually sing to them when I'm here alone." His sudden gentleness must spook Eddie because he just blinks at Steve, his mouth open slightly as he stares in disbelief that Steve actually just spoke to him.

"You can sing?" Eddie sits down next to him and mirrors Steve's actions; gently pulling dead leaves off and checking the soil.

"No, I can't." He laughs. "But the plants don't seem to mind."

They sit in silence for a minute before Steve gathers up his small pile of dead leaves and stands up, Eddie follows suit. "I'm sorry I've been such a dick." Steve rushes out before he loses the courage to admit it. "It's just... you're awful with plants."

Eddie laughs, the sound catches Steve off guard and echoes around the nursery, and Steve realises in that moment that he's never heard Eddie laugh before. It's loud and beautiful and Steve wants to hear it again. Every day.

"I know. I don't have a green thumb at all, but this is the only job that would take me. I think the plants want me to quit."

Steve wanted him to quit. He'd grumbled to Robin about it nearly every day. Eddie knew that and he still stayed. He smiles at Steve in a way that says he doesn't mind, he's just teasing.

But Steve still feels like a total asshole.

"I could teach you how to look after them properly." Steve offers. "I should have offered to help weeks ago." He adds on quietly as they walk through the rows and rows of plants. Steve touches all of them gently, he grazes his fingers along their leaves in a friendly greeting.

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot." Eddie says with a smile so bright it could rival the sun and cause all of the flowers to bloom.

They spend nearly every day at work together after that. Steve helps Eddie learn all the plants' names, their technical names and the secret names Steve's given them all. Steve shows him how to prune and shape the baby hedges and tries not to blush when their fingers touch while passing over the shears. Eddie is a fast learner. He absorbs everything Steve says and then executes it perfectly. He looks over at Steve and smiles excitedly after he successfully prunes the rose bush without chopping a single bloom off.

The more time they spend together, the more Steve becomes aware of the feeling blooming in his chest. It tickles his ribs and causes him to blush and bump shoulders with Eddie more often, causes him to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Eddie's ear and brush his hand along Eddie’s back whenever he passes him.

The new bloom in his heart causes him to kiss Eddie in the back corner of the nursery behind the ferns.

Turns out Eddie has a green thumb after all because there is something so beautiful blooming between them, and so far only the ferns know about it.

#DID ANYONE SAY OVERPROTECTIVE PLANT DAD STEVE?!!!#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #steveddie #stranger things s4 #robin buckley #I DIDN'T PROOF READ THIS I'M SORRY IN ADVANCE

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sanjifucker42069 · 7 months

Text

Peaches

Sanji keeps finding you sneaking food. Just what are you hiding?

Note; girl, rats are cute, and Sanji’s association with rats melts my heart 🥺🥺🥺

Word count: 1416

The third time Sanji caught you sneaking food out of the larder is when he grew suspicious.

"Do I not feed you enough love?" He interrogated, You jumped, hands holding onto your small bag. It had to be past midnight. You turned to him looking mildly terrified, eyes scanning for an exit plan. Sanji quirked a perfect brow when you didn't respond. "Well?"

Nothing. You drew close the bag in your hands, peeking in one last time. You seemed so skittish tonight. What were you hiding? Sanji didn't have time to consider what before you shot upright, speaking a mile a minute.

"HAHAHA! I'm sorry Sanji, you got me! I was feeling extra peckish tonight HAHAHA!" You slapped at your leg as if he told you the world's funniest joke, before robotically moving to the door. "Well I've had my fill so I'll just be going back to bed. It won't happen again. Good night Sanji."

"Hold it." He ordered. You froze, a visible sweat on your brow. You let out a little whimper. He softened, and with a sigh, motioned to the table. With palpable dejection, you made your way to the table, ready to be scolded. "Love, you know I keep a thorough inventory of our food. Normally I'd think you were giving it to Luffy, but there's hardly any food going missing. So what's going on?"

You twiddled with your thumbs. "I was just a little hungry." You were still avoiding his gaze. Sanji wasn't convinced.

"Love, I'm not going to be mad."

"Yeah you are..." Your voice was soft, trailing off. Sanji sighed, pulling out a smoke and hurriedly lighting it. He took a long drag to calm himself. Why would you ever think he'd be mad at you? He honestly felt a little heartbroken that you didn't trust him.

"Love-"

Squeak.

You flustered. Sanji narrowed his eyes, blowing out a plume of smoke.

"What was that?"

"My stomach?" You tried, clearly nervous.

"Try again."

You sighed, bringing the bag up to rest on the table. He saw you fiddle with the drawstring. Upon hearing you hum, he stared, seeing you looking at him through lidded eyes. "Promise not to be mad?"

Yeah yeah whatever to get you to stop breaking his heart with those puppy eyes, he thought. Instead he said, "I could never be, love."

You undid the drawstring. Opening the bag another squeak rang out, echoing in the silent kitchen. You cringed. For a few seconds nothing happened, and Sanji could feel himself growing antsy. Then, a small grey head popped up, whiskers twitching.

A rat!!?!?!

"Her name is Peaches." You muttered. Sanji was shocked, staring at the little creature before him. 'Peaches' seemed to stare back at him, holding her dainty paws in front of her as she rose to two feet. Sanji noted the small yellow ribbon adorning her. And, was that a tiny bandage around her ankle?

"Huh." He mused, taking a drag. As he blew another plume of smoke, the rat squeaked.

"I'm sorry Sanji. I knew you'd be mad if you found out we had rats, but I swear it's only Peaches, I found her on the ship last week. She had a bad ankle. I saw her crawl onto the ship from the docks. Normally I'd put her back but she was hurting and....I just couldn't leave her there to die."

Peaches moved closer to Sanji, staring at him. If Sanji fed into his delusions he could swear the rat was studying him.

"She's clean I promise!" You cringed at how loud you were. Moving to a quieter tone you looked at Peaches. "She had a bath. She's actually really chill."

"So she's why you're sneaking morsels?"

You nodded. He sighed. Sanji weirdly felt his heart swell. You'd save a little rat on death's door? You were a pirate. Your gentleness always stood out to him, but the way you pet the little rat, cooing at it had him feel his heart race. You reached out and grabbed his hands. He stared at the gesture, cigarette hanging from his mouth limply. He dragged his eyes up to meet yours, startled at how determined you look.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop sneaking food. But I won't get rid of Peaches." You shook his hands for emphasis. "I promise she won't come into the kitchen! Just...please don't tell anyone."

"You want her around? Even if I don't?" He asked. You met him with a fiery stare.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. But yeah... You're dear to me, but this little creature deserves empathy too, and she's not hurting anyone." Peaches squeaked as if to back up your claim.

Out of all the scenarios, you didn't expect Sanji to give you that soft smile and remove a hand. You watched with bated breath as he instead set his sights on Peaches, holding his hand out.

Peaches sniffed his hand experimentally. Clearly she judged him to be safe, as she crawled into his hand. Your heart stopped at how soft Sanji looked. He spoke around the cigarette, staring down at the little rat.

"You're too sweet." His eyes flicked up to yours. "It doesn't worry me. So long as she isn't a nuisance in the kitchen, it really doesn't matter to me. It's sweet that you are so dedicated to her." Peaches crawled up Sanji's arm, settling on his shoulder. He gave a lopsided smile. Sanji removed the cigarette from his mouth. "She's cute. Y'know some of the first meals I ever made were for rats."

You stared at him. "Really?"

He laughed, a faraway look in his eyes. "Yeah, they're cute, and they're not picky eaters...but let's not talk about that" He peeked towards Peaches. "So what's your favourite then, miss?"

When Sanji looked back at you he was stunned at how wide your smile was, tears in your eyes. "She likes cake, it's not good for her. She does like apples though."

"Apples?" He laughed, disbelief clear in his tone. "Not Peaches?"

You blushed. Sanji felt his heart skip a beat at your blush. "Oh. There was a book I read as a kid, it had a rat named Peaches."

"Hmm, an apple cake then? I'll make you one when you're better Peaches to celebrate, okay?" He reached back over and grabbed your hand. You stared into his eyes, their soft warmth drawing you in. "Love, you're too nice, y'know? I don't know any other pirate who'd cry over a rat." You started to bluster but he shushed you. "It's not a bad thing. You're a good person."

Sanji went to take a drag from his cigarette when he felt tiny hands snatch it from his grasp. He gasped, offended. The two of you watched as the little rat skittered down Sanji's arm, cigarette bitten sideways.

"Peaches!" You scolded. Peaches pointedly avoided you, taking the cigarette back into both hands and stubbing it out. You laughed. "Oh Sanji, I'm so sorry. I guess she doesn't like smoke!"

Sanji joined in, laughing freely. "Guess not. Lucky she's cute. You too." You felt your blush darken. Sanji rose to his feet, giving you a wink. "How 'bout some tea? Maybe something for the little one too, yeah?"

You nodded, heart missing a beat at ‘little one’. Sanji rounded the table, pulling you into a side hug. You felt him place a featherlight kiss on your hair. As quick as it started it stopped, and the man headed to the kitchen. The domesticity was killing you. Peaches gave you a pointed look. You stuck your tongue out at her.

"Sanji?" You asked quietly. The man hummed in response, placing the kettle on to boil. "Thank you. You're a good man."

Sanji smiled. "You're too kind, love."

You rose to join the man, quickly glueing yourself to his side. Sanji welcomed you in, arm wrapping around your shoulder. You snuggled into his side. The two of you basking in each other. You pulled his tie lightly coaxing him to your level. With a smile, you kissed his cheek gently. Sanii blushed lightly, stunned by your actions. Behind you the kettle whistled. The two of you sharing the same thought:

I could get used to this.

And so the three of you settled in for a late night, an odd storybook tea party: a gentle chef with a hidden past, a sensitive pirate with a heart of gold, and a little rat with a dislike of smoke.

#sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #i actually formatted this one properly lmao #vinsmoke sanji x reader #opla x reader #one piece x reader #i couldnt help myself i had to post this one too ;-; promise ill spread em out more from now #fluff #ill go back and format good boy properly in the morning its 5am rn lmaooooooo

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flowerandblood · 5 days

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (26)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: mention of sex, incest, smut, angst, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Jace remembered perfectly the day his little sister was born. Laenor had led him into his mother's chamber that day, holding his hand, saying that she was very tired and they couldn't spend much time with her − he had insisted on seeing her because he was delighted to finally have a sibling, a brother to play with and be friends with.

His mother, the future queen, smiled softly at the sight of him, her white hair loose and in disarray, her face red from sweat and exertion.

She held out her hand to him and he hugged her, peering curiously at the infant she held clutched to her chest.

"He's so tiny." He said in disbelief, brushing the baby's finger with his own − he smiled when he saw the baby's hand clench into a small fist with its quiet purr.

"She. You have a little sister." He heard his mother's amused voice; he furrowed his brow at her words and rose, angry and disappointed.

"− wait, comrade −" Laenor called out after him, but he refused to look at her.

She was a disappointment to him.

For the first few months, he had pretended not to hear her cries or squeals from their mother's chamber − even though Rheanyra had spoken to him and encouraged him to meet her, he had refused to do so, recognising that no little girl interested him.

"It was supposed to be a boy." He muttered regretfully while playing with his large, wooden, black dragon, pretending that the stacks of books were the great hills over which he flew on Balerion. His mother smiled at his words and combed her hand through his dark curls.

"That is what the gods have decided. She may be your future wife."

Jace put down his toy, looking at her in surprise, not understanding what she meant.

"Am I going to have to kiss her?" He asked in disgust, recalling the stories Laenor sometimes read to him before bed, in which great knights freed beautiful women from the paws of monsters, only to fall in love with them later and be bestowed a kiss by them.

His mother smiled involuntarily.

"Don't think about such things until you're a grown man. No kissing for now." She giggled, pinching his cheek. He smiled lazily seeing her warm expression, the motherly love that beat from her.

That night he went to the chamber where she slept for the first time; he leaned over the cradle, glancing at her plump little figure wrapped in a white robe and a small headpiece. Her eyes opened suddenly and he was terrified that she would burst into tears − she, however, merely clutched her small feet and began to rock from side to side, looking at him curiously.

He smiled involuntarily at this sight and tickled her belly with his finger. Her squeal and loud giggle answered him, her eyes lit up in joy, her little body all the way up in euphoria. He laughed seeing this, repeating his gesture, thinking she was like a small animal, a puppy or a kitten.

He decided that at the end of the day she wasn't so bad and stopped pretending she didn't exist.

Until Luke was born he had treated her as if she were a boy, driving their mother to despair every time they both returned sodden with mud and sand after another battle with Aegon and Aemond.

He had always felt that his uncles disliked him, and even though they were of a similar age to him, he did not feel comfortable in their company − nor could he hide his jealousy at the sight of their snow-white hair, proof of who they were.

Looking at his father and mother, he could not comprehend why his hair was not that shade.

Rhaenyra explained to him that it was surely because of the Baratheon blood that also flowed through their veins, and although he was disappointed, the sight that he was not the only one, that his sister and Luke looked similar to him, comforted him.

The first time Aegon laughed sincerely at what he said occurred when he called his sister a hamster. The comparison came to his mind when she took air in her mouth and furrowed her brow − he uttered it thoughtlessly, and his uncle burst out laughing and patted him on the back.

"− gods, you're right − and those big eyes of hers −" He sneered, and although he saw that his sister lowered her gaze, embarrassed, he continued, eager to hear more words of praise from his lips.

"− she has just as much sense too −" He added, seeing his uncle throw him an amused, mocking look suggesting that he agreed with him.

He felt a squeeze in his heart when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that his sister had turned and walked away, passing through the cloisters towards their quarters without even giving him another glance.

He turned around and noticed to his surprise that he was not the only person to notice her leaving − his other uncle, Aemond, led her away with his eyes and then threw him a look full of despise, from which he felt discomfort.

He pressed his lips together at the thought that he was the heir to the throne and, unlike him, had his own dragon.

Who was he to look down on him with such superiority?

He decided to remind him of that and share that thought with his brother.

Aegon's involvement in their little joke surprised even him − his uncle thought it was an excellent idea. He argued that his younger brother was too sullen and serious for his age, that he was sapient and could use a little lesson.

As he listened to Aegon convince him that they had found a dragon for him, as he saw the hint of hope and the shy, embarrassed smile of excitement on his uncle's face, he felt for a moment that perhaps they should not do this.

However, it was too late to retreat − Luke ran deeper into the cave, and came out a moment later, leading by a rope a large pig to which they had attached self-made wooden wings early on.

"Behold! The Pink Dread!"

He saw that his uncle froze and turned pale as they burst out laughing, swallowing this humiliation with difficulty − his eyes glazed over and reddened, his gaze again blank and distant.

He knew they had broken him.

That same day he mentioned it to his sister, and her reaction angered him.

"You are cruel." She said resentfully.

Which side was she on?

"He's forever looking down on us because he has white hair. He's constantly making excuses and bragging about what he's read in those silly dusty books of his." He snorted, playing between his fingers with the gold coin their grandfather had brought him from another of his trips overseas.

He blinked when his sister simply rose from her seat and walked out, leaving him in a state of shock and displeasure − he decided, however, that these were just normal female emotions and would surely pass her until supper.

He loved his father, but he also greatly valued and respected Ser Harwin Strong. He was a stocky, tall, handsome man who could fight very well. He often spoke to him or helped him practice by sharing stories of his duels in tournaments and hunts.

He thought then that he would like to be like him one day.

He knew that he was a close confidant of his mother and often saw them together, however, his father seemed not to mind, so he considered this condition perfectly normal and did not bother.

After a few weeks, the will of their King fell upon them like a bolt from the heavens, and their mother informed them of it during one of their suppers together.

"− your grandfather and our King has decided today that, to strengthen our lineage, we will betroth your sister to your uncle, Prince Aemond − let us raise our cups for this −" She said, glancing towards her daughter, his sister smiling broadly at her words, happy.

What?

"− what do you mean? − why? −" He asked, feeling discomfort in his stomach and a cold sweat on his back.

They wanted to gift him his sister as a consolation because he didn't have a dragon of his own?

"− your grandfather wants peace to reign in the kingdom after his death − such a marriage in his eyes will strengthen our family and our bonds between each other − of course, the marriage will only happen when your sister is of the right age −" She said calmly, looking at her daughter with tenderness, taking an unruly strand of her dark hair from her face.

"− did you agree? −" He asked his little sister in disbelief, and she nodded quickly, as if it was the happiest day of her life.

"− yes − I'm very pleased − I'm fond of our uncle −" She said quickly, putting a piece of roast on her plate, describing how worried she was that she would have to marry someone much older than herself.

He stared blankly ahead, clenching his hands into fists, bitter and disappointed.

Had she really never considered him as her husband?

After all, he was her elder brother; in their lineage such marriages were obvious.

He dared not, however, defy the will of the King himself.

His resentment towards his uncle increased with each passing week seeing that, against his wishes, he was not being harsh and unpleasant to his sister − on the contrary, he seemed to have softened in her company, his face, though still pathetically proud, also expressing curiosity and affection.

He felt rage in his heart at the thought that they could really have wished to bring about this marriage.

However, the cup of bitterness overflowed the moment he saw his sister kiss him.

They were both too certain that no one could see them − he watched them from the corridor through a window overlooking the library.

His sister was standing by the bookcase, saying something to him, and he stood up and walked lazily over to her. He rose on his tiptoes and apparently reached for a book that stood too high for her. She smiled broadly as he handed it to her, her hand traveling to his shoulder.

He swallowed hard as her lips pressed against his, and as soon as she pulled away, her uncle grasped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her again, deeper and longer.

He fled to his chamber and burst into tears with rage, dropping all the objects standing on his table, disappointed and humiliated that although he was to become King in the future, someone else was taking away something that in his mind was his right.

He never wondered what kind of love he had bestowed upon her and whether it was the form of affection that usually bound married couples; he knew that he would care for her and be good to her and that was enough for him.

She was his sister and he would never hurt her.

She, however, looked only to her uncle and it was to him that she gave her heart and mind.

He didn't know what he felt when Luke slashed his face that night when their uncle stole Vhagar − horror, shame, satisfaction and relief all mingled in his mind into one.

On the one hand, he was overjoyed that he had taken back what in his mind should have been his, on the other he was embarrassed and distraught at the confirmation of his fears that had long smouldered in his mind.

It was Harwin Strong who was their father.

To his seed he owed his dark curls.

He was a bastard.

He tried to turn his thoughts away from considering what this meant for them, focusing on the fact that his sister would surely no longer want her uncle for a husband, and their paths would part.

This is exactly what happened.

Still, what he had planned did not happen, and his mother decided to change her plan and marry her off to their cousin, Lord Arryn's son, to strengthen her support in the North of the kingdom. Again, he felt a wave of disappointment, however, this time he was not so jealous − he knew that she had no love for their cousin and that he was certainly no threat to her.

"What's my little sister doing?" He asked with amusement, startling her completely, sitting bent over her desk − she quickly grabbed the parchment she had just been writing something on and tucked it under the table, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Are you writing a letter to someone?" He sneered, raising an eyebrow, standing over her with a smile. She swallowed hard and looked down, thoughtful.

"I write poetry. But I don't want anyone to read it." She muttered, and he sighed quietly and nodded, acknowledging that he wasn't going to force her to do anything.

"Would you like to go for a walk along the beach? It's beautiful weather." He encouraged her; she, however, shook her head, no longer bestowing a single glance on him.

"No, forgive me. I'm tired."

He pressed his lips together at her rejection, which he had faced again and again since they had moved to Dragonstone.

Even though he tried to get close to her, to understand her and comfort her, she still didn't want him.

He was ashamed to speak of his feelings with his mother or stepfather, much less Luke, however, to his surprise, his closest confidant turned out to be Baela.

"I don't understand her. It seems to me that she still misses him, even though he has certainly forgotten her by now. I have heard that he is a cold, vain, self-obsessed man. He's always been that way, treating her only as an object, a consolation prize. Now that he has a dragon he doesn't need her." He said angrily − his cousin sighed heavily at his words, looking at him with understanding.

"When people part in anger and don't close a chapter, it's hard for them to move on. Perhaps she knew him in a way that is unknown to us. He's always been withdrawn into himself." She muttered disapprovingly, fiddling with the wine cup in her hand, gazing thoughtfully into the blazing fire.

He smiled at the thought that he was certain she recalled the impetuosity with which her uncle had punched her in the face with his fist that night when he lost an eye. Baela looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

"What's that look?" She asked and kicked him under the table with her foot. He giggled at her reaction and shook his head, lowering his gaze to her fingers.

"I would have been better for her. I would have really cared for her. Maybe I wouldn't have given her everything she needed, but at least with me she would have been safe." He said with a tiredness from which his companion sighed heavily. He lifted his gaze to her as her hand grasped his and squeezed it.

"I know." She replied softly.

He swallowed hard, feeling a pleasant warmth in his lower abdomen as he saw her soft, misty gaze, feeling her warm thumb stroke his palm. He grunted as he felt his manhood pulsate in his breeches at the thought that, indeed, his cousin was a very fine woman.

He had always liked her sharp tongue and confidence.

"Have you ever lain in bed with a woman?" She asked him suddenly, and he drew in the air loudly, shocked, feeling that his cheeks had certainly turned red with shame.

He didn't know what to answer.

He didn't want to humiliate himself with words that he had absolutely no experience in these matters knowing that she had a more liberated approach to these affairs.

Daemon, as her father, had expressed no dissent, so who was he to lecture her?

She sighed quietly, seeing his reaction, or rather lack thereof, and rose from her seat, turning her back to him, gripping the ties of her bodice with her hands.

"I need you to help me."

Baela was a calm and patient teacher − it seemed to him that she took great satisfaction in his lack of understanding of what she was actually doing to him as she sank down on his swollen manhood again and again with a moan of delight − her brown naked skin glistened wonderfully in the light of the blazing fire, her white curls falling over her shoulders in disarray, her full lips parted in obvious desire from which he felt his fulfilment approaching embarrassingly fast.

She made sure he didn't fill her with his seed, letting him instead come down on her abdomen with his low moan of pleasure, his length pulsating and twitching in her hand for a while longer. He licked his lower lip dry with emotion, looking at her in disbelief, a soft, shy smile on her face.

"− you're beautiful −" He whispered, and she giggled under her breath and kissed him in a way from which he felt hot in his heart.

She made him forget, at least for a moment, what was happening around them, finding in her both friend and lover, the confidante of all his secrets.

She was not jealous of his sister − on the contrary, he had the impression that she understood the source of his anger and disappointment, herself having no intention of explaining to him what she was doing and with whom.

It seemed to him that their relationship and its freedom suited them both.

Of course, they both knew that in the end they would experience a marriage that would inevitably be purely political, and they understood what that entailed.

Then their grandfather was injured on one of his expeditions, and Vaemond Velaryon challenged his younger brother's rights to the throne of Driftmark.

Knowing the truth about his parentage and at the same time refusing to accept it, he became enraged, sad and depressed at the same time − Baela's words of comfort that they would find a solution and not allow themselves to be intimidated did not reassure him.

Once again, his uncle and his family were trying to take their inheritance from them.

His return to King's Landing was a shock to him; to his disappointment, he felt like an intruder there, and it seemed to him that was exactly how he was perceived by everyone.

He felt a drop of cold sweat run down his neck, his stomach twisting with discomfort when he saw his uncle in the distance, wielding his sword as if it weighed nothing, easily defeating Criston Cole, pressing its blade against his neck.

He was tall, muscular, his long white hair, proof that he was in fact a Targaryen partly tied at the back of his head with a black ribbon, his jaw long and sharply defined, his gaze wild and cold, terrifying.

He smiled mockingly at the sight of them, playing with the hilt of his sword between his fingers as if he wanted to devour them.

He felt ashamed at the thought that he was terrified.

And then his uncle spotted their sister in the distance − his heart beat harder at the sight of their expressions.

It seemed to him that this reunion years later had caused them pain, as they both froze, breathing heavily, looking at each other as if there was no one else around.

His uncle hummed under his breath and turned away, nodding at Ser Criston, taking another swing with his sword.

Even though he hadn't cared what happened to her for so many years, even though he had humiliated her at supper by calling her Lady Strong, she had confessed in front of everyone that her place was with him.

He looked at her in disbelief, wondering what she was doing, why she had stooped to courting him when it was obvious that her uncle had neither respect nor affection for her.

After a moment, he heard his uncle's cold, trembling, deep voice.

"So it is decided, father. We will marry."

"How could our mother agree to this? How could she let her stay there?" He asked furiously, circling around his chamber in Dragonstone; Baela sighed heavily, turning her head away. She looked at him finally, hesitation in her gaze.

"I didn't tell you because I knew it would only enrage you and you wouldn't leave her alone." She said tiredly − he halted in half-step, looking at her over his shoulder, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

"You didn't tell me about what?" He asked dryly, frustrated and concerned.

Baela let out a loud breath, shaking her head. They were now betrothed, and although he thought they both seemed to have accepted their families' decisions with relief, he couldn't rejoice.

"My father told me that she had been sending him letters all these years. That the same night we arrived in the Red Keep she spent the night in his chamber."

He stared at her dully, feeling that it made him sick to his stomach, as if he were about to vomit, his face taking on an expression of disgust.

So she didn't write any poetry then, he thought with regret and pain.

"− how could she do this − expose our mother to humiliation and gossip −"

"Jace. She never stopped loving him. I think she's naive too, but you'd have to be blind not to see that she never really accepted it all. I don't know what I think about it myself." She admitted, running her hand over her face.

"You don't know what you think about it? I'll tell you. Our uncle will play with her and take advantage of her, and then he will put her up to ridicule and hand her over to us. He won't marry her." He growled angrily, burying his face in his hands, wondering how she could be so foolish, how she could believe that he had sincere intentions about her.

"The matter of succession is on a knife-edge. Perhaps our grandfather is right? A union between our mother and the Queen could really ease the situation." She muttered, clearly looking for anything comforting in the situation, which he completely failed to understand.

Had everyone around him lost their minds?

"My uncle who thinks we are bastards is supposed to alleviate the situation? He will never agree to let me sit on the throne and I am supposed to give him my sister?" He asked in disbelief; Baela tightened her lips at his words, frustrated.

"You speak of her as if she were an object. It's always been that way."

He felt an unpleasant shiver run down his spine at her words, every muscle in his body tensing like a string.

"What do you mean?" He asked coolly.

Baela sighed heavily, clearly trying not to explode and form her thoughts so as to be honest but not cruel.

"You think she was born to fulfil your whims? That the fact that you are her eldest brother gives you precedence to lie in bed with her?"

He felt himself blush with shame at her question, shocked.

Discomfort and arousal surged through his lower abdomen at the thought.

"Do you think that's what I mean? I'm just trying to…"

"Yes, Jace. I've never witnessed you ask her how she feels, what she needs. I am fond of you, but you are a selfish boy, not a man."

He felt ashamed at the thought as tears gathered under his eyelids at her words, a terrible, cold shudder shook his body, his heart began to pound like mad.

You are a selfish boy, not a man.

Her words so offended him that he stopped speaking to her despite her pleas, and then the thing he feared most happened.

The King was dead, Aegon had stolen her mother's throne and his uncle had imprisoned his sister.

They had made a mockery of them.

He had been right all along, but no one listened to him.

"Forgive me, Jace." Baela muttered, placing her hand on his shoulder. She knelt beside him, sighing heavily, laying her head on his thigh, and he involuntarily stroked her hair, feeling superiority, feeling strength.

He was going to fight for his mother's crown and bring his sister home.

In order to do so, at the behest of their mother, he flew to Winterfell to ask Cregan Stark for his support in this cause, reminding him of the oath his father had taken before her.

The North seemed to him a beautiful and wild place, so far from what he knew − the snow-covered hills, the austere fortresses of dark stone, the robes that looked only grey, black or brown around him gave him a sense of modesty and space.

Lord Stark's nature appeared to be similar to his, and the few days he had spent in his company hunting and riding horses had actually made him feel good − he felt like someone worthy with him, a true heir to the throne, not a bastard.

It was this feeling that, seeing the young Lady Snow from afar, he allowed himself to be enchanted by her charms and lay in bed with her.

Like a real man.

When he arrived back in Dragonstone he learned that Luke had just returned from Storm's End and that he had seen their sister.

"You flew after him? You flew after him knowing he could imprison you, use you as your mother's weakness? Fucking fool." Growled Daemon, shocked and horrified by his naivety, burying his face in his hands, unable to look at him.

"Daemon." Their mother rebuked him, all pale, her hand clenched on her womb. "What happened next?"

"He brought her. Someone hit her, mother, and I think she tried to take her own life. There were cut marks on her wrists." His brother muttered, and he felt his heart stop, he and Baela looked at each other quickly.

She had tried to take her own life.

Because of this bastard, his sister could be dead.

His hands clenched into fists at that thought.

"And then?" Pressed Daemon in an impatient voice.

"I told her to run away with me, but she didn't agree. She told me to tell you that she loves you and that she remains faithful to you, mother." He mumbled and he slammed his fist on the table, feeling fury and rage boiling up inside him.

"That fucking bastard purposely made her stay. He planned this, he never had any intention of marrying her!" He growled red with anger − Daemon threw him a single, drawn-out look.

"And then what? He let you just walk away? No one else saw you?" He continued, pretending not to have heard his outburst.

"N-no, I was surprised, but no. Forgive me, I had to see her, make sure that she is still alive." Luke said. Daemon sighed heavily and leaned over, placing his hands on the top of the stone table, thoughtful.

"Bring me a parchment and a quill. I need to speak with my nephew."

Baela followed him into his chamber in an attempt to calm him down.

"How can he want to pact with that fucking traitor? His brother stole my mother and his wife's throne!" He shouted in her face − his betrothed dropped her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"Since he let them meet, maybe there is something to it. My father knows what he's doing, I trust him. I believe he will bring her home."

"You're naive. You always have been."

"And you're vain. You always have been."

He pressed his lips together at her words, feeling his heart pounding like mad, feeling like something was about to explode inside him.

"I met a woman in Winterfell who I took to my bed." He muttered finally, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

Part of him wanted to hurt her, and part of him wanted to be honest with her.

That was what they had promised each other.

Baela laughed at his words in disbelief and shook her head − he had a feeling he saw a shadow of regret in her gaze, but he wasn't sure if it was because of his confession or because she understood why he said it now.

"If you wish, I'll relate to you how I spent my time in your absence, but I'm not sure you'll be able to look into this guard's face afterwards." She sneered, lifting her chin high, looking at him defiantly. He felt a wave of hot shame and anger surge through his body.

"After we're married…are you going to continue this?" He asked uncertainly and she cocked her head to the side.

"If you are not faithful to me, I will not remain faithful to you. You are dear to me, but don't think I will cry for you. Certainly not like your sister cried for her uncle. Part of me has always envied her that she experienced such a deep feeling in her life even if it burned her from the inside for so many years." She said with a kind of regret from which he felt a squeeze in his stomach, but he answered nothing to her words.

He knew that they did not love each other.

They were close and felt comfortable together, but they weren't mad about each other.

He believed it just had to be this way.

He waited impatiently along with his mother and the others gathered for Daemon to return from his meeting with their uncle, simultaneously terrified and angry that they were speaking with traitors instead of fighting.

When they heard the squeal of Caraxes in the distance his mother stood up, pale, holding her hand on her womb again, as if remembering the time when she had carried her only daughter under her heart.

His other sister had died before she was even truly born.

When Daemon stepped into the main hall everyone was already waiting for him; he sighed heavily, placing his Dark Sister on the table top, folding his hands in front of him, straightening.

"Your daughter married her uncle of her own free will. My nephew has conveyed to me that his brother-cunt will relinquish the throne he stole from you if it is your daughter's children and his who become heirs to the throne or, in the event they do not conceive a son, ours − Viserys and Aegon. He demands the exclusion of Jace, Luke and Joffrey from the succession." He said dispassionately. He looked at his mother seeing that she had run out of words.

"− mother − this is −"

"− leave us − all of you −" She ordered.

"− mother − this is my inheritance − mine −" He began, but felt Baela's grip on his arm.

"− Jace − that's enough −"

He sat in his chamber thinking only of the fact that his mother was just contemplating whether or not to agree to deprive him of his inheritance, to acknowledge that he was her bastard despite the fact that he was her firstborn son, despite the fact that Laenor Velaryon had acknowledged him as his heir.

"− Jace −" Baela muttered, seeing his condition.

"− leave −" He said. He heard her sigh heavily as she approached him with a rustle of her gown, kneeling at his feet.

"− Jace − I'm on your side − I always have been − don't you see me as your companion? − your friend? − your lover? −" She asked with a pained expression that startled him. He lowered his hands and looked at her − his palm rose to her cheek, which he stroked with a tender, slow gesture.

"− you resent me − you don't see me as a man, but as a child −"

"− that is not true −"

"− I don't want your pity −"

"− Jace −"

"− you were right − I don't want to frustrate you and I understand all the accusations about me that you've made − my whole life I've been trying to be someone I'm not −" He finally replied, his betrothed's fingers grasping his hand and squeezing it.

"− that's what I mean − stop pretending − be honest with yourself −"

"− do you want me to be honest? − very well then − my mother has never asked my opinion on any important matters − Daemon treats me as if I am an imbecile and mocks me − I am both a first-born son and a bastard − my uncle wants to deprive me of everything, he wants me to be a nobody and why? − because when I was a child I gave him a pig? − god, I regret it, it was a cruel joke − I regret that he lost an eye, I regret that a dragon didn't hatch from his egg − but even if I had said that, what good would it have done − he would have laughed at me saying I am a weak cunt −" He muttered and burst out sobbing like a small child, hiding his face in his hands. Baela embraced him and cuddled his face into her oil-scented neck, stroking his hair.

"− I am grateful to you − I am grateful to you that you are honest with me − I am grateful to you that you have never lied to me −" She whispered and he wept softly, tightening his hands on the material of her gown feeling that the closeness of her body brought him solace.

"− I am grateful to you too − forgive me for not being what you deserve −" He mumbled, sniffling loudly, trying to calm the convulsions of his body and his ragged breathing.

"− I forgive you − I forgive you and ask for your forgiveness −"

When his mother came to his chamber that evening, he knew what decision she had made even before she opened her mouth.

"− Jace −" She began, and he turned his head away, panting with rage, burning tears of humiliation under his eyelids.

"− after all this − after all you've sacrificed − are you going to let them win? −"

"− how would I be a just Queen if I thought only of myself instead of the good of the kingdom? − any other solution will mean war with our own kin − is there anything else more displeasing to the gods? −" She muttered in a breaking voice in which he could clearly hear that she herself was suffering immensely.

"− you let them dictate their terms −" He said in disbelief, looking at her at last. His mother pressed her lips together at his question.

"− no − I intend to impose my own demands on them – none of them will be allowed to sit on the throne − none of them will wear the crown − they will be rulers-regents until their son, the rightful heir, is born −" She replied, forcing herself to be calm.

"− and if no son is born to them? − will you exclude me from the succession then? − your first-born son? −" He mumbled in pain, hitting his chest with his palm. Rhaenyra drew in air loudly, her eyes red from tears of pain and grief.

"− it's my fault − not yours − me and Laenor really tried, but −"

"− I don't want to hear it − I won't listen to it − why did you let me come into the world? −"

"− Jace −" She mumbled − he heard the rustling of her gown as she took a step towards him, but he held up his hand showing that he didn't want her to come near him.

"− I will leave Dragonstone to you − it belongs to me and I can give it to whomever I wish − no one will challenge your rights in this case, you will finally be able to live the life you deserve −"

"− I was meant to be King −" He hissed, and she swallowed hard.

"− as was I − but perhaps we are not meant to be − pride steps before a fall −" She said drily, her chin lifted high.

"− what does Daemon have to say in the matter? −" He asked lowly.

"− he is furious, but he will do as I command − just as you −"

199 notes · View notes