#once again i hope i did the ladies justice

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile I

Pairing: Alastor x Female!Reader

Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: It's going to turn dark very quickly, but let's enjoy childhood innocence heh... It's my first time writing for Alastor so I hope I'll do him justice.

“ Do you promise to be a good girl, love?”

You gave your mother a beaming smile while she was doing your hair in front of her vanity. You were trying not to bounce with excitement , your parents have decided to move to New Orleans, in Louisiana,  thanks to your dad's new job. Your mother was born there and she was talking about a friend that she couldn’t wait to meet again! 

You couldn’t help being happy to see your mother so cheerful, even more so when she told you that this particularly cherished friend of hers had a child around your age!  You had to say goodbye to your playfellows in your old country so you were eager to make new friends here.

Once your mother finished styling your hair, you jumped off the chair and gave a little twirl in your new dress, making your mother laugh. She took you in her arms and kissed you on both cheeks as you giggled. You turned your head towards the door as your father came in with a tired smile. He went to kiss your mother then yourself on your forehead.

“ Are the most beautiful ladies in town ready ?”

You blinked as you looked at the trees surrounding the house that you were walking toward. Your mother held your hand while chatting eagerly with your father who had a fond gaze as he was admiring her. She stopped once she saw the door open and a black woman ran toward her, your step on the side as she gave a crushing hug to the lady. 

You tilted your head, watching your mother’s friend. She had a beautiful smile, dark hair held in a bun with a red ribbon and eyes that looked like they were made of chocolate.

“ Oh , I’m so happy to meet you again Marie! Look at you, glowing like the sun! But where are my manners? You already know my husband of course, but let me introduce you to my sweet little girl !” Your mother exclaimed as she pushed you toward the lady who smiled widely as she set her gaze on you. 

She crouched before you and kissed you on both cheeks just after you introduced yourself. You blinked, confused but the lady explained it was a french custom called “ La bise.” 

“ Oh dear, you are just the cutest ! Please do come inside, I’ll call my son so you two can play together !” Marie said as she clapped her hands together, inviting you to enter the house. 

You bounced into the house, excited to finally meet your future friend, what kind of game will you play? Tag? Hide and Seek? You were unbeatable in those games. Nobody could catch you, you were like the wind, untouchable, uncaged… You look around the living room, as the adults did their things, and look at a picture: it was obviously Marie with a man and a little boy. You took the photo carefully and examined it, the boy had a wide smile, similar to Marie’s,he had glasses on. He looked small–

“  Do you not know that it is rather rude to touch others' belongings?”

You squeaked and turned around to find the boy in the picture in front of you, the photo hidden behind your back. His arms were folded in front of his torso, one eyebrow raised up with a closed smile and eyes staring at you, unlike the photo he wasn’t wearing glasses and his skin was almost …caramel like? He was a tad smaller than you…Wait, what did he say?

“And it is rude to come unannounced behind a lady!” you replied making yourself even taller than the boy in front of you. It was embarrassing being catched red handed like that! He tilted his head, never losing his smile.

“ I see no lady.”

“ What-”

“ Alastor, mon coeur, there you are !” Marie came into the living room with your mother, smiling. She kissed the boy's forehead and looked at you. “ This is my son, Alastor, he is nine years old. Bébé, I hope you were polite and said hi.” You saw the boy- Alastor's smile twitched a little as he looked at his mother. You were going to show him that you knew your manners, you were not rude! You kissed him on both cheeks just like his mother did to you a few minutes ago. You took a step back to introduce yourself  but you saw him looking at you, eyes wide open, his smile frozen and… was his cheeks-

“ Oh, excuse my daughter ! Sweetie, you don’t just randomly kiss boys like that!” your mother said as she apologized to Marie who was just laughing, commenting on how cute you were. Dang it, did it make you ruder to Alastor’s eyes ? As both of your mothers went into the kitchen Alastor walked closer to you, his face way too close!

“ It’s rude to look at someone face this close!”

“I need to be close to see when I’m not wearing my glasses, if not, everything is… Blurry. So I'm not rude… ” He said with a polite smile, taking a step back from you. Maybe you judged him too quickly, he didn’t know what you were doing with the photo, when he said that he saw no lady, maybe it was because he couldn't see so–“ But now that I have seen you up close I can clearly say… I see no lady.”

“ You–!”

“ Kids, time to eat !”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 You stared at Alastor as everyone was enjoying the food - which was delicious -, he was smiling as he answered your parents' question or even helped his mother. You were a good girl, no question asked here… But this boy, saying you were rude… You were just curious and bored! You watched as your mother asked Alastor what he liked to do. As he opened his mouth to answer you fake a sneeze and hit him in the shin with your shoes. 

You looked up to see Alastor staring at you with a wide smile. You waved at him, apologizing, smiling sweetly.

“ You have such a polite daughter!” Marie said as she patted your head.You beamed at Alastor, take that! You opened your mouth to say a heartfelt thank you but Alastor kicked you in the same place that you did. Your knee flinched, hitting the table making your glass fall, the water inside it wetting the table. You panicked as you said sorry trying to prevent the water from falling on the floor.

“ Excuses accepted !”

You looked up to Alastor's voice, as he gave you a big smile before drinking from his glass as the adults laughed at his answer to your panicking apologies. You were fuming, it was your moment! The adults were giving you their attention, their compliment, you were making your parents proud but he stole it from you, so easily !  

“ Why don’t you both go play outside ? We will call you when the desert is ready.”

Alastor stood up from his chair, smiling at you. “ I know many games we could play.” You nodded and followed him outside.

As soon as you were out of the house you tried to kick him but he avoided it so smoothly you just stared at him in shock. He looked at you with a beaming smile.

“ So unladylike.” 

“ You know what, we’re going to play games, and you should go wear your glasses because you won’t see my victory coming!” You said, stomping your foot on the floor, your fist clenching.

“ I don’t need to see something that will never come.” he chuckled as you stuck your tongue at him, he couldn’t even see you properly so who cares. You stopped as you saw a swing attached to a big tree. You ran toward it with an excited smile, it’s been so long since you saw one! You sat on it and began to swing, higher and higher. You closed your eyes as you tilted your head backward, bending your back toward the grass.

“ Jump.”

You blinked and dug your feet into the ground, dirtying your shoes in doing so. You looked at Alastor who was in front of you.

“ I beg your pardon?”

“ No need to beg “ what a smartass “ When you reach the highest spot in the air, jump.”

“ And why should I do this ? I could hurt myself and dirty my dress !”

“ Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were scared, my mistake.” he said, looking bored still smiling. You didn’t know why, but you didn’t like this expression on his face, even more that it was destined to you. You squeezed the swing’s ropes.

“ Don’t stay in my way, I’m doing it.” You watched as his face wore an expression of surprise. He stood on the side as you went higher and higher. You had a weird feeling in your stomach as you looked at the ground underneath you as you prepared yourself to let go of the ropes and jump… You looked at Alastor who was watching curiously, you knew he didn’t trust you to actually do it. Well, maybe he saw you as rude, but he will not see you as a coward ! 

You let go of the rope and jumped.

It felt like time had slowed down, you felt like floating for a short moment, you could feel a warm feeling in your body before dropping to the floor on your hands and knees. You didn’t move, even when you heard Alastor’s step stopping next to you. It felt.. good ! You stood up excitedly.

“ Wow! Did you see that Alastor ! I did it ! Haha ! That was super amazing !” you said, jumping around while clapping your hands together. You turned to him, pointing your finger in his direction. “ Now it’s my turn to find a game!” Alastor nodded, still smiling, waiting patiently for your instruction. You looked at the tree and grinned. “ Climb that tree without falling!” He looked up at the tree than at you, shrugged and began climbing. 

You looked at him as he climbed the tree easily, sitting in a branch, smug.

“ I should thank you, now that I’m here, I don’t have to see your face.”

“ My face is pretty !”

“ Pretty ugly.”

“ Alastor !”

You played all afternoon together, laughing and teasing each other. You laid on the grass, trying to catch your breath as Alastor was sitting next to you, out of breath too. You stared at him and grinned 

“ I have another game… Ready?” He nodded as you sat up. “ You need to put your hands on the other person’s face and tell a secret.” He raised one eyebrow, his smile twitching. “ For example!” you placed your hands in front of his eyes, making him more blind than he already was. “ I… I had a great time with you.” You kept your hand on his eyes, smiling. “ And when I take off my hand, it’s like you've never heard anything.” 

You took off your hands as he nodded slowly. He stared at you and looked away “ Do you know another game?” You blinked, a pang of disappointment in your heart, didn’t Alastor have a great time with you..? You looked at him, biting your lips. 

“ We can play.. Hide and Seek..?” Alastor turned his eyes toward you with a glint. “ But without your glasses I don’t know if you would be able to catch me..” you sighed but he stood up, excitedly. 

“ No worry, go hide, I’ll come find you.”

You were hiding behind a tree, not because you didn’t find a better hiding spot, but because you were sure of your skills and Alastor was blind as a bat. If he happened to see you, you would just run out of his… vision perimeter. And furthermore, you wanted to see him look for you and fail to find you. You were still hurt that he didn’t tell you a secret like you did, so you wanted to win this last game before going home. 

You smiled as you saw him walking towards the bushes. You put your hands on your mouth, trying to stifle your giggles. You were going to have so much fun. He wasn’t in much hurry, and you were beginning to be reckless. It was becoming boring… you looked at the orange sky, it was going to be night time soon…You closed your eyes. Should you claim your victory before Alastor lost himself in the dark woods? Yes, it would be the safest–

“ Found you.”

You opened your eyes and saw Alastor face above your face with a big smile. As his hand came toward you to catch you,claiming his victory, you ran. You looked behind you as Alastor gathered himself, he seemed shocked about your reaction, but he was soon running after you. You couldn’t help but laugh as you ran toward the house, you felt free knowing that he could never catch you.You saw your parents outside and stopped once you were near your mother and turned toward Alastor with a beaming grin.

“ I won. You found me, but didn’t catch me.” you said, out of breath.

“ It’s a tie then..” He sighed with a knowing smile as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“ I’m happy that you both had a grand time. Look at your clothes, sweetie…”Your mother tried to wipe some dirt from your dress but she couldn't do anything about it. “ We have to go sweetie. Say your goodbye.”

 You felt a pang of sadness as you realised your parents were ready to leave. You walked toward Alastor, pouting.

“ Well.. Goodbye…” You looked at the floor, tears in your eyes. You didn't want to go, you had so much fun with Alastor. You flinched when you felt his hands covering your eyes.

“ I had fun and… you are pretty.” You froze as he kept his hands on your eyes. You wanted to see if he was still smiling, or.. was he teasing you… But the rules of the game are clear. You will not talk about it even if you wanted it badly. Maybe you could arrange some other rules?

You opened your eyes once you felt his hands moving from your face. Alastor was already next to his mother. Marie kissed your cheeks, promising that you could come whenever you wanted. You felt a feeling of relief knowing that it wasn’t the last time you could play with Alastor.  You waved goodbye to Alastor and Marie before going home.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After your bath you chatted with your mother about your afternoon with your new friend.

“ He can’t see from up close ! I hope he will wear his glasses next time” you said as your mother put you to bed. She tilted her head, confused.

“ Alastor can see up close perfectly fine darling, he has some problems seeing far away but it’s mostly when he is tired. So, don't worry too much.” she kissed your forehead, wished you goodnight and left.

He can clearly see up close…

He can…

You screamed his name with anger in your pillow. It wasn’t a tie and he knew it. He won the game! You could almost hear his giggles! Next time you see him, you’ll show him!

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #fanart #alastor scenario #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #x reader #fiction #hazbin alastor x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #alastor headcanons

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere L Lawliet Headcanons (General)

"I'm always two steps ahead of you, if not more, my sweetie." — L Lawliet.

❝ 📓 — lady l: watching Death Note again and commenting with a friend, I ended up thinking about it and decided to do some L headcanons, because I love him! 🖤 ​​Hope you like it :) 🤍

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, stalking, unhealthy relationships, mention of kidnapping.

❝📓pairing: yandere!l lawliet x gender neutral!reader.

L Lawliet is very scary because he is very smart. A detective, the best detective. He is very good at reading people, at his deductions. There is no running away from him, he will always find you.

He was already stalking you before you even knew it. Before you even knew about his existence, L was already after you. Always behind you, watching you and gathering as much information about you as possible.

L knew about everything you. What was your childhood like, your fears, your desires, your dreams, everything. There is no privacy at all with him, he wants to be able to read you like a book and he does. There's nothing he can't figure out eventually.

He began to appear in your life slowly and normally, for you at least. He just seemed like an ordinary guy who needed some sleep and straightened out his back, but that was it. You had no idea who he really was, how obsessed he was with you.

L has morals that can be easily corrupted when he becomes obsessed. He believes that he is justice and he does in his way, which is not always the right way to do it. He firmly believes in justice above all else, his justice.

He doesn't believe that what he feels, that the things he did for you are considered wrong. L is delusional enough to believe he is right, but he will never do anything against your will. He respects you enough for that.

L is a natural stalker, it's one of his hobbies as a detective. Although he doesn't persecute you in the literal sense of the word, he usually sends Watari to watch you and accompany you somewhere. Whether it's going to school or work, he'll have his butler protecting you.

He won't risk your safety, especially with Kira on the loose. You're not a criminal, but L won't take any risks. He's never made a mistake before and it won't be you he makes a mistake with. Not when one mistake could cause your death.

Always very careful, L would only reveal himself to you when he was sure he would have your trust. He is very, very manipulative and will make you trust no one else but him. Not even your family could be as trustworthy as L. He would definitely lock you up at home if he could.

L has cameras in your house, all aimed at crucial points in your house. In your bedroom, in your living room, in your kitchen, everywhere there is a camera watching you. It had become a habit for him to spend hours a day looking at the images, waiting for you.

He's not the possessive type, but L has his limits and won't tolerate someone approaching you with ulterior motives. He is very quick to think, to deduce that there is someone interested in you and he will quickly push them away from you. He usually uses his manipulation for this. L is not in the habit of killing and will never do so unless it is really necessary.

Once his obsession consumed him for good, L could no longer remain but shadows. He could no longer remain in the background, watching you take risks every day, he needed to do something. And he did, during one night, you woke up in an unfamiliar room and with a pale guy, sitting in a strange way, staring at you intensely. You were finally with him.

You may think you're smarter than him, that you can get away from L, but he'll always be two steps ahead of you. You have nowhere to run. L would finally have you and he wouldn't let you go.

#death note #yandere death note #l lawliet #l Lawliet x reader #yandere l lawliet #yandere l lawliet x reader #yandere lawliet headcanons #yandere headcanons #headcanons #death note x reader #yandere death note x reader

[thebadboyfanclub]

My Moonlight (Daemon x Reader)

So this was requested by an anon. Once again this was a challenge but I hope I did it justice, let me know if it’s shit but… Enjoy!

It was a cold winter night when princess Alyssa gave birth to not one but two children, prince Daemon and princess (y/n), legend has it (y/n) would wail until she laid next to her twin brother. When princess Alyssa held her daughter he saw herself in the babes eyes, they held the same glimpse of strength and resilience, she was called “the fire of the realm”, the greatest thing was during the labour the wild dragon sheep stealer landed outside the keep.

Once princess Alyssa heard the news she was up on her feet with her twin children in her arms to meet the dragon, (y/n) was the one that sheep stealer had chosen as the dragon sniffed around her and then sat down on the ground, it almost looked like the dragon bowed for the princess, it was not as big in size as Caraxes yet he made up for it with its ill temper and ferocious attitude, it would only listen and obey to (y/n) which caused a lot of problems to the dragon keepers, the dragon was named blaze “it’s only fitting for the realms fire to ride her blaze” she liked to joke.

As the years passed the twins were attached at the hip and the court would joke about how they were the same person. (Y/n) and Daemon would often get in trouble due to the obsession they had for one another, (y/n) had a habit of grabbing little girls by their hair and drag them when they attempted to come close to her brother and Daemon had to be pulled off from other boys that would offer flowers to the princess. Their father would look at them as a continuation of the love he had shared with their deceased mother, it was no coincidence that they looked identical either, two bodies that shared one soul.

“we were born together, we will die together”

Prince Daemon would frequently answer when he was questioned about (y/n). (Y/n) and Daemon could not be tamed by rules, she had given her Maidenhead to Daemon before their betrothal was even announced, whispers of how prince Daemon had taken (y/n) behind a brother at the street of silk spread like fire, they were partially true what they forgot to mention was that (y/n) had dragged Daemon in a dark alley to mountain him, she was insatiable.

“It feels like I am being fucked by myself”

She whispered to him, Daemon laughed but did not oppose to her declare, their resemblance was uncanny and oddly arousing, seeing themselves in one another made it more fun for them, their facial expression matching as their were twisted with pleasure was exciting to say the least.

Both of them were intoxicated by love, they were ruthless as the green eyed monster of jealousy drove them to insanity, their antics baffled everyone as for example their brother Viserys had roared with anger when (y/n) slapped Rhaenyra at her own wedding for dancing and whispering to her lord husbands ear. (Y/n) was restrained by Daemon and was forced out, later a soldier heard their groans of pleasure as Daemon had pushed her against a wall to “teach her a lesson”.

Daemon had taken it a step further as he beheaded her knight for listing after his lady wife, the truth was the knight had just held the princess by the waist when she tripped over and Daemon did not appease to how the knight went about it.

The birthing bed was a place (y/n) would frequent with Daemon by her side as he whispered to her words of encouragement, the ended up having 8 kids, her eldest was a son that (y/n) already carried in her belly when the wedding ceremony was held, she named him Baelon, the second one was twin girls Alyssane and Alyssa, the fourth was another boy named Maegor, then there was Eleana, after her came Rhaegal that gave his mother quite a fright since he decided to arrive earlier than expected, and the last ones were another daughter pair of twins named Visenya and Helias a girl and a boy naturally they all looked like the same person just different heights and personalities, the family resided at dragon stone that Viserys had passed to his siblings, away from duty and boring court gatherings, they showed up when they wished not when they were summoned, on one hand it was a relief since having them around meant chaos would erupt, on the other no one knew when they would strike

“My moonlight”

Daemon called his sister wife who waited for him at the dragon pit with their children. Daemon took (y/n)s hand and placed a sweet kiss on the womans knuckles, he looked up to admire his ever defiant wife.

(Y/n) was dressed in a marvellous black and red outfit and stood next to her dragon, the first to run to Daemon was his youngest Visenya, her long dirty blonde hair swinging as she hugged his fathers leg. Daemon picked her up and held his daughter tightly, she was a spitting image of her parents of course, the only difference was that she was the one to inherit her grandmothers eyes, one was blue and the other was violet.

“How is my little princess?”

“Mother said I can ride my dragon”

“ The dragonkeepers said it’s safe and the red keep is a short flight from here”

“What amazing news”

Daemon beamed, all of their children had dragon eggs in their cradle, unfortunately a few did not hatch including Maegors, however that was quickly forgotten due to (y/n) and daemon flying with their kids to find unclaimed dragons when Maegor had found Cannibal and claimed him he came back riding, in his mothers eyes Maegor was destined to become a legend, the dragon was later named “Gaelithox”.

Daemon had assisted his little girl up on her completely white dragon, Visenya had named him “moonlight” after the nickname Daemon had for (y/n).

“Allow me my love”

“No need”

(Y/n) dismissed her husbands hand and sat on her dragons saddle. Daemon scoffed as he shook his head, of course she would not take his hand, (y/n) never yearned for assistance even if it came from her husband. The flight was short yet blissful, they all went up to the sky side by side and listened to little Visenyas squeals of joy, (y/n) puffed her chest with pride as she gazed at the little girl. Helias had claimed Vermithor, (y/n) had taken the small babe up in the sky with her dragon when she spotted vermithor, something told her to land next to the lonely dragon, it was then that the dragon chose the child as its new rider.

Once they landed their son caught up to his little sister and picked her off her dragon, Maegor was over protective of his siblings. Viserys waited outside for his brother and sister along with his wife, Alicent.

“Daemon and (y/n)! Welcome home”

“My dearest brother, how I’ve missed you”

(Y/n) loved Viserys, it was only for her that Viserys tolerated Daemons rebellious acts. Viserys placed his hands on (y/n)s stomach as his face showed admiration.

“Gods be good sister, your family is a sight for sore eyes, dragon stone seems to have their hands full with heirs”

“our mother unfortunately did not live long enough to make the army she wished for our father, I hope she is smiling down on me for my effort”

“The mother seems to be quite gracious with her blessings for princess (y/n)”

Alicent spoke lightly, (y/n)s eyes focused on her, (y/n) was never fond of the hightowers, she found them repulsive and vicious, lowlife rats that raised their hopes up to take over the Targaryen throne.

“Goddess Meleys was on our side that is correct”

“And let me take a good look at Rhaegal, my daughter is a lucky woman”

Rhaegal was to be wed to Helaena, Rhaegal had grown fond of the princesses innocence and kind heart, he would often ride his dragon to be by her side for as long as he could.

(Y/n) and Daemon pushed their pride aside for their son and allowed the match, they also thought how it would serve for their son to be wed to heleana when Rhaenyra ascends the throne, if their children take over the hightowers they would not go against the princess.

“Let us go inside, Rhaenyra has been waiting for you”

(Y/n)s mask slipped for a quick moment, she could recall the encounter that occurred during her wedding, she shared a look with her husband that made Daemon place his one hand around her waist and the other to hold her hand tightly, the last thing he needed was for his sister wife to be cross with him.

“Princess Rhaenyra it’s been far too long”

“Indeed it has my dear aunt, i see you have been quite busy growing your family”

Rhaenyra hugged her aunt and then took a step back to bow at her uncle, (y/n) smirked at the encounter and Rhaenyras timid behaviour, at least the slap had taught her a lesson.

“And your children have grown, Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey isn’t it?”

“Correct, they were far younger when you last saw them”

“Visenya and Helias were babes, you don’t remember them do you sweetlings?”

Daemon once again picked up little Visenya. The girl shook her head before she hid her face at her fathers neck making everyone’s heart melt. Daemon rubbed her back while (y/n) lifted her son Helias in her arms, Helias seemed intrigued by Rhaenyra since he stared right in her eye, he was the adventurous one.

“I believe the children should go to the gardens, mingle amongst themselves”

(Y/n) suggested, they did not come all the way here to have some family quality time. Naturally Maegor went up to his father so he came hold little Visenya, she was a shy child who adored her brother. Alyssa went to her mother to lure Helias away with sweets, he was always a mothers boy so he needed a tad bit of convincing to leave his mothers arms.

As the children walked away it was only (y/n), Daemon, Viserys, Alicent and Rhaenyra in the room. An awkward silence fell as the three women sized each other up while the men stood completely still, waiting to see the women’s reaction.

“How is your son Baelon?”

“He should be here any minute now with his wife Laena and of course their two daughters, my son has informed me that princess Rhaenyra is interested to betroth Jacaerys and Lucerys with Baela and Raena”

“Indeed, the children seem quite fond of each other”

Rhaenyra responded diplomatically, (y/n) could detect that she was weaponising the children’s feelings so she wouldn’t go against it.(Y/n) nodded as she held back all the sly comments that passed through her mind, her grandchildren would marry the two bastards, what a mess and might she add a waste of Valyrian blood, Baelon was the one that tried to reason with his mother and allow the match, Baelon wished for his daughters to be happy as well as see Baela ascend to the throne with her lord husband.

“Well since we are are discussing the topic of betroths I would like to propose a match”

“What do you have in mind sister?”

“Alyssa has been betrothed to her brother Maegor but I would like to suggest that we betroth my other daughter Eleana to your son Aemond, our families I have been divided for so long it is time we put our differences aside, as well as keep the blood of old Valyria pure”

(Y/n)s eyes shifter for only a moment to take a look at Rhaenyra, Viserys smiled brightly at the proposal while Alicent froze in her spot, (y/n) has noticed that Alicent has a soft spot for her son Aemond so if he was to marry Eleana meant there would be another woman influencing her loyal soldier.

“What a splendid idea my dearest (y/n), Eleana is more than my son would have wished for, isn’t that right my queen?”

“I supposed, Aemond would be a… wonderful husband”

Everyone with eyes could detect Alicents uneasiness at the proposal, Eleana was a force to be reckoned with, an excellent archer and a mighty dragon rider, her spirit would not be silenced under Alicents influence, quite the contrary Alicent feared for her son being dragged away from her reach and follow his wife in whatever she wished, which was why (y/n) suggested it.

Alicent could feel it how every move was calculated and an attempt to shoot down anything the hightowers might have in mind. Aemond was a family oriented man, if him and Eleana were to have children he would never turn against his own kin, Heleana was to be wed to her other son so as a wife and a gentle soul she would comply with her husbands wishes, one of them was for Heleana to move to dragon stone after the ceremony. (Y/n) was already taking away her only daughter and now she planted a spy in his sons chamber.

“May I ask dear sister, what about your daughter Alyssane? Our son Aegon might-“

“No”

Daemon spoke up for the first time. He had heard stories of the nuisance that was Aegon, “a waste of a name” he called him when he was brought in question, Daemon had grown the closest to his daughter Alyssane, she was an exquisite sword woman and a perfect diplomat, he would never throw his daughter to the low life that was his nephew. (Y/n) squeezed her husband hand and smiled at him, her smile seemed warm although Daemon caught on quickly that it was his first and last warning.

“Alyssane is a free spirit my king, we’ve had numerous discussions about her and Aegon that led nowhere, she is adamant to marry Lord Cregan Stark, he has already send ravens to us asking for her hand, I think you can understand I cannot go against true love”

(Y/n) spoke the truth, her daughter Alyssane was keen on marrying Cregan stark, a fine young prince that would support their daughter and make her the queen of the north, what was a flat out lie was the “numerous discussions”, Alyssane and her parents had never discussed that option, Aegon was not their problem.

Before their plans could go any further they were interrupted by the guards bursting in the room.

“My apologies but you must come to the gardens, Prince Maegor has attacked prince Aegon”

“My child”

Alicent made haste and flew out the room leaving the others stunned. (Y/n) eyeballed her husband, their tight bond came in handy in these situations when they had to communicate with just their eyes. Everyone moved as fast they could and were met with Maegor being held back by three guards as Alicent inspected her son for injuries.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Daemons voice was loud and clear, Maegor had a temper but had never acted with violence without reason. Maegor gained back his composure when he realised his parents were present, (y/n) went to walk to her son as the guards led him go.

“What is the meaning? Your son is a savage, my children are once again met with cruelty of your family”

“Your grace let us not jump to conclusions, Maegor as your mother I demand to know what happened”

Maegor remained silent. As he looked at his sister he thought of what to say, he did not regret his actions yet once his mother came in his vision he felt embarrassed over his temper.

“Maegor I won’t ask twice”

“He wanted to bet money that he could fuck Alyssa”

Maegor interrupted his mother with his voice rising due to anger. It was like time stopped when Maegor made the accusation known, Maegor was defending his sister that was his soon to be wife.

Aegon was unaware that his uncle was standing behind him when he spoke with such disgusting words over his sisters. Alyssa and Alyssane were playing out a sword fight while Eleana and Visenya sat on the grass with Heleana and watched, the sons of Rhaenyra had ran off somewhere with Rhaegal and Aegon had turned to his brother Aemond to demise Maegors sisters. He was about to jump in the conversation so he can make Aegon stop talking when he heard of the bet, that was what made him lose his mind.

“Is that true Aegon?”

Alicent questioned in a state of shock. If what Maegor had stated was correct then it was another stab on Alicents back, her own son had betrayed her and left them exposed to the hungry wolves that was (y/n) and Daemon.

Aegon remained silent and (y/n) found this as an opportunity to approach the boy and land one harsh slap on his already bruised face. Alicent nor anyone else did not dare to stop her, he had crossed a line and spoke ill of her daughter, if it was the other way around Alicent would have done the same. Daemon admired his twin with his head held high as she grabbed Aegon by the chin and forced him on his knees in front of her son Maegor.

“Alyssa, go to your brother Maegor”

Alyssa did as told and wrapped her hand around Maegor after she leaned her head on his shoulder. Alyssa and Maegor were in love ever since they were toddlers, even if Maegor was younger he always protected his siblings and although he struggles with intimacy (y/n) recalled when Maegor would slip a small daisy in Alyssa’s books every day or how she waited for him to find a dragon so they could fly together, Alyssa had claimed silverwing when the dragon came out of hiding on Alyssanes and Alyssa’s first name day.

“Apologise to them”

“What?”

“You heard her boy, apologise to them”

Daemon repeated as he had approached his wife who stayed next to the kneeling boy. Aegon looked back at his mother for help yet to no avail, he had created this mess he was going to come out of it by his own.

“I…. I am sorry”

“For what?”

“I am sorry for speaking in a low manner about Alyssa”

“If I hear that you even looked at any of my daughters way, I will cut off your hands and your cock so I can feed it to you. Understood?”

Aegon only nodded in fear of (y/n)s wrath. She took her eyes of Aegon who was clearly beaten with quite the strength from Maegor and took a few steps to stand at the head of her son. Maegors posture was proud and there was no sight of remorse in his eyes as they laid upon his mother. Everyone held their breath as (y/n) handled the matter, all of Westeros were familiar with how far Daemon and (y/n) would go for their children, gods save the man that would harm their family. A small smirk appeared in (y/n)s lips as she reached up to caress her sons cheek

“You are your fathers son, I am proud of you my dear Maegor”

Requests are open!

#daemon targaryen #daemon x you #daemon x oc #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x you #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd season 1 #hotd 1x10 #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fluff #house of the dragon x reader #house targaryen #matt smith

[fangsp1der-2099]

Manipulative

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

| Navigation |

| Warnings‼️: Coriolanus is a bit possessive and a bit crazy also gets a bit suggestive at the end but that’s all folks. |

| a/n : first time writing for a character like Coriolanus but I hope I did him some justice because I’m in love with him. Enjoy 💕. |

| tags 🏷️: @knight-of-flowerss @thethreeeyed-raven |

manipulative

/məˈnɪpjʊlətɪv/

adjective 


exercising unscrupulous control or influence over a person or situation.

A word commonly used to describe Coriolanus Snow. Almost anyone who wasn’t under his influence would call him that word. Not you though, how could you? He was sweet and kind and could never hurt you. He bought you nice clothes, gifted you bouquets of roses that were coloured a white of the purest snow and gave you anything a lady of the Capitol could ever need. However you still got the feeling that something was wrong with him. What if the people were right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were looking in the mirror at yourself. Was it yourself? The eyes that stared back at you didn’t feel carry the same warmth as they once did. Your curves, didn’t feel like they were yours, too full for a person who had been through war. You glide your hands down your newly bought satin dress. Coriolanus had bought it for when you were feeling down a few days ago. He could never see his lady sad.

You hug yourself, arms snaking around your stomach. Why did you feel this way? A silent sob racked your body. Tears spilled down your blushed cheeks and dropped onto the dress. You tried to wipe away the tears but they fell like an everlasting waterfall. The mascara that had sat on your eyelashes were now smudged across your eyelids and the cherry lipstick that once graced your lips was now smeared across your chin. You looked as disgusting as you felt. At least you thought so.

The front door of your penthouse clicked open. Was Coriolanus already home? You grab a handkerchief and you wipe off as much of the ruined makeup as you could and replaced it with a faux smile.

“Darling? Are you here?” You hear Coriolanus’ soft voice behind the door. “Yes I’m here Corio.” Your voice still shaky but hopefully not noticeable. He opens the door and he looks straight at you and smiles. “There’s my beautiful girl.” He’s wearing his deep red coat with a pair of black gloves. You try to keep some distance from him. As he steps forward you take a small shuffle back. After a few steps he notices. “Darling? Are you ok? Did something happen while I was away? I’m telling you if one of the butlers tried anything I will fucking-“ “No! No I’m fine!” You cut him off. “Just not feeling great that’s all.” You chuckle slightly, trying to play it off.

He sighs. “Please doll, if anything is wrong ,tell me.” He walks over to you and places a soft kiss on your forehead. “I know.” A genuine soft smile appears on your lips. He always had a way to cheer you up. “Are you going to tell me why you look like that?” he raises his brow, obviously noticing your red puffy eyes and the smudged make up. “Nothing important.” You wave your hand around trying to exaggerate that you were fine. “Tell me darling. You’re safe with me.” He places his hands on the sides of your face, softly caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “Please.” He pleads in a soft whisper.

“Fine…I just feel wrong?” You confess, you feel like crying again. “Wrong?” He questions. “Yes wrong. My body feels like not mine.” You hear an almost sadistic laugh come from him. “Darling please. Your body is mine.” What? You look at him confused. He kisses you again but this time on your lips. He invites his tongue in between your lips and into your mouth where both of your lips danced together in a harmony of passion and lust. He leaves your mouth and works down to your neck leaving a trail of kisses. Slightly nipping your skin with every kiss trying to mark you to show that you were his

You let out a soft whimper. You didn’t know whether it was out of fear or pleasure. “Tell me that you’re mine.”He says breathlessly as he leaves your skin just before he continues to kiss you. Your hand reaches for his hair as he reaches the neck line of your dress. “I’m yours Coriolanus.” You moan into his hair and he chuckles into your skin, you can feel his voice vibrate against your skin. “I’m glad to see that you finally realise who you belong to doll.” His voice laced with authority. He slips down your dress before carrying you to the bedroom.

Maybe the people were right but you wasn’t going to listen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: hope you enjoyed and have a good day lovelies 💕

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #tom blyth

[shina913]

I wish you would write a fic where....reader is going to get a pedicure but her normal nail tech is out, and the owner's cute son (you pick the member) who's back in town volunteers to do reader's appointment. (hehehe)

Jess!!! I did it 🤣 I didn’t think I could but I actually had a lot of fun with this! Thank you for this ask. I hope I did it justice 💜

******

Self-Care Sunday | JJK

Pairing: NailTech!Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Meet cute; fluff

Warnings: Some naughty thoughts but nothing explicit; slight references to gender stereotypes and occupations

Word count: 3k+words

Summary: You arrive at your mani-pedi appointment to find out that your usual technician is unexpectedly out. Instead, the salon owner’s son offers to do your nails instead.

A/N: Just for fun! Also, I was too impatient and wanted to actually post on a Sunday, which is why I didn’t have time to find a proper banner image for this. I’ll fix that tomorrow 😅 Thank you @midnightagust for your eyes 🥰 hope you all enjoy this!

Every weekend, you make a point to treat yourself to some form of pampering. Whether you went out to get your hair done or simply curled up on your couch to enjoy a book, ‘Self-Care Sunday’ was a big deal for you. It was a way to reset and prepare for the week ahead.

This weekend, you’re going for a mani-pedi. You walk into the nail salon about five minutes before your appointment time.

The small reception booth in front is empty, but the rest of the ladies who are busy with customers pause to greet you since you’re a regular. You begin to scan the room for your usual manicurist, hoping to check in and get set up.

Oddly, she’s nowhere in sight so you ask one of the ladies closest to you, who was giving a pedicure to another client.

“Annie just left. She said she was feeling sick,” she says to you.

“Oh no.” You look around again to see that everyone else is tending to their own clients. There’s no way any of these ladies would be able to take you on this morning. You’re disappointed but it’s not the end of the world. “I guess I could just reschedule my appointment–”

“No, hun, you don’t have to! It’s why she didn’t call to cancel. Our manager will take care of you.”

The salon’s manager, Lily, wasn’t afraid to jump in to help out whenever it was busy. It was a small comfort to know that the day wasn’t going to be a complete waste and you knew that you were in good hands.

The nail technician points to the vacant spa chair next to her and you help yourself. She pauses her work to fill the basin with warm water so you can soak your feet in while waiting for the manager.

“He’ll be right out, okay?” She says with a smile before turning back to her client.

Your eyebrows scrunch in curiosity. You could have sworn she said 'he,' but maybe you were hearing things. You dismiss the thought and activate the massage function on your chair, then start scrolling through your phone while waiting.

A few minutes later, you notice movement in your peripheral vision. As the figure settles on the low stool in front of you, you raise your head to greet them. Your voice gets caught in your throat when you realize that it isn't Lily.

"Hi!"

You’re stunned at the sight of a man sitting in front of you. He looks young and devastatingly hot. You would never expect to see someone who looked like him at a nail salon, let alone working at one. His big, round, beautiful eyes make you want to melt into the water your feet were soaking in.

“Uhm…h-hi,” you choke out once your brain lurches back to life. “I thought the manager was going to do my mani-pedi.”

He grins proudly, spreading a towel on the footrest of the spa chair. "Yep! You're looking at him!"

You feel confused. Did Lily quit or hire someone new? It’s been three weeks since your last appointment. In the background, you hear the other nail technicians giggling amongst themselves.

Seeing the worried look on your face, he explains, "My mom is taking a break, so I'm filling in for her."

You vaguely remember Lily mentioning her children in passing. Since she looks relatively young for her age, she’s always said that people are shocked to hear when she tells them that she has a grown son.

Well, consider yourself shaken to the core.

"I'm Jungkook, by the way," he extends his hand towards you. You're both baffled and overwhelmed by how handsome he looks. The massage chair's tapping setting propels you forward, snapping you out of your daze.

You reach forward to shake his hand and introduce yourself. Although he has a firm grip, his hands are surprisingly soft, sending a chill down your spine.

“When Annie said that she wasn’t feeling well, I offered to take the rest of her appointments for the day,” he divulges.

You look at him skeptically. You’ve never received a manicure and pedicure from a male technician before—especially not from one who was this cute.

He chuckles. "I know, I know. You're probably thinking, 'Does this guy even know what the hell he's doing?' Well, let me assure you that my mom personally trained me. If she's ever worked on you, you can expect the same level of quality from me. But I understand if you feel uneasy. The last thing I want is for a client to feel that way.”

You’re still apprehensive but he sounds confident. You get a grip and nod, giving him consent to continue with the appointment.

“Thanks,” he says softly and with a look of relief. “You booked a deluxe pedicure and manicure, right?”

The deluxe mani-pedi comes with a longer-than-usual massage on your hands and feet. Thinking about this man's hands kneading your tired muscles makes you sweat.

“Y-yes, I did,” you nervously confirm.

He nods in acknowledgment, and you gulp as he begins to dip the pumice sponge into the basin to scrub your heels. He’s careful and gentle with each pass, totally unlike what you’ve been used to. It’s a stark contrast to these ladies, who have manhandled you in surprising ways—especially the petite, older techs. They’re still sweet, though, and they do a great job, but you admit that this is a nice change of pace.

The rest of your pedicure prep goes smoothly until it was time for the massage.

He drains the water from the basin then he props your feet on the footrest. The stool is too low for his frame but he doesn’t complain. He’d rather make the adjustment so you wouldn’t have to bend awkwardly from your seat.

After drying your feet with a towel, he squeezes some lotion into his hands and starts massaging it into your calf muscles. Typically, some ladies prefer to keep their gloves on for sanitary purposes, but Jungkook has taken off his gloves just before the massage. You figured he was the manager on duty, so he could do whatever he wanted. And not that you had any objections, as the skin-on-skin contact feels nice. Better, actually.

You don't know why, but your gaze is drawn to his thighs, which are spread widely in front of you. It's incredibly distracting and you struggle to look away. You wonder if the awkward positioning of his knees against the spa chair is causing him to sit like that, or if there is something else between his legs that he's trying to adjust for.

“Is the pressure okay?” His question pulls you back into reality.

"What? Oh, yeah. It's good. It's fine," you manage to cobble together. His touch is firm, yet gentle enough to be relaxing. Silently, you think, if he was this good with your legs, how would his hands feel on the rest of your body?

"Are you sure? I could apply more, if you prefer. I always try to start off slow, but I can go deeper, depending on how you like it."

You grip the chair's armrests in response as your mouth goes dry. "N-no, you don’t need to go deeper. What you're doing is...great.” Your voice comes out breathy, but in an effort to distract yourself, you dig your phone out of your purse and start randomly scrolling through your social media feed. Now was not the time to be getting horny over your nail technician.

He suppresses a smile at your response. "Okay then.”

******

You manage to survive the rest of the pedicure without any additional incidents, much to your relief. He slips your sandals back onto your feet with ease, without smudging your freshly painted toes, and helps you over to the manicure table.

Once you settle in your seat, you rest your hands on the cushion and dip them into a cuticle-softening solution while he sets up the rest of his tools. While waiting for your fingers to soak up the solution, he checks in with you.

“Can I get you anything while you wait?”

“I’m good right now, thanks.”

"Okay.” Then, he leans in, lowers his voice, and asks, “How do you think I’m doing so far?"

You smile warmly at him. "I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised." Your toes didn't look streaky, nor did he get polish on your skin. You were impressed!

Your response makes him smile from ear to ear, his nose crinkling in amusement.

"Thanks. I know most women think it's weird to get a mani-pedi from a dude."

You sigh and decide to fess up. He seemed self-aware and appreciated honesty. "Well, I have to be honest—I was definitely apprehensive at first," you admit then follow it with a shrug. "But then I thought, hey, it's a job. If you can do it and have the skills for it? Why not? It shouldn't be restricted by gender."

His brow arches at your remark. "My thoughts exactly!" He agrees emphatically.

You feel another spark of electricity surge through you as he lifts your hand. You watch as he examines your fingers under the light.

“Mm…nice, long, nail beds.” His compliment followed but his thumb brushing over your fingers makes your belly flutter.

“But I bet you probably get that a lot,” he adds with a laugh.

“Not as often as you think,” you say. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was coming onto you.

“Just a regular manicure, right? Not gel?”

“Yeah. I thought, if I got the gel, I can’t get the usual hand massage—”

“I can still give you the massage,” he interjects.

“Oh. But what about the oils? I thought it’s not good for the gel base?” You hesitate.

He shrugs as if it's a non-factor. "I can do the massage after I cure your nails under the light. That way, the polish adheres nicely and it’ll be all set. But if you still prefer a regular manicure, that's fine—we’ll do that. I just want you to know that you have the option," he assures you.

You purse your lips to think for a few seconds. “Well, if you’re sure the massage won’t mess with the gel—”

“It won’t, I promise!” He says confidently. “My mom’s old school and she’d never do it that way but I think that you can still make it work.” After he says it out loud, one of the female technicians next to him scoffs. Seems like she prefers the standard method, too.

Jungkook rolls his eyes subtly at her reaction and turns his attention back to you. “If you don’t like it, I’ll give you your money back.”

That sounded fair to you.

“Alright. I trust you.”

After you decide on gel polish colors, he begins to trim your cuticles and file your nails. But just when you thought you could easily survive the pedicure, him being this close, and at eye-level, was going to be an uphill battle. He looks so focused and precise in his movements; it’s relaxing to watch. Even the little pout he does while maneuvering your finger to apply the polish with the utmost precision to cover every surface of your nail is cute.

You make small talk while he works. Not the usual gossip that you’re used to with the female technicians. You feel comfortable around him but not enough to spill all of your secrets.

“So, are you doing this full-time?”

“No,” he answers before he guides your hand into the curing lamp. “I have a day job but I mostly work from home. My mom said that needed help and I didn’t hesitate to step up. She works very hard.”

Oh no…he’s not only cute but he also loves his mom. You can’t help but feel endeared. You also note that he doesn’t have a ring on his finger. Lily hasn’t mentioned any daughters-in-law, that you recall.

You decide to sound casual to break the tension a bit. “This job must be a great way to pick up women, too, huh?”

He pauses before meeting your gaze. The corner of his mouth curves into a cocky smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Your cheeks heat up. You immediately realize that your comment may have crossed a line, thinking you were at that level of comfort with him just because he touched your bare feet. You kick yourself internally for being presumptuous.

“S-sorry,” you shyly tear your eyes away from him. “I was just trying to make conversation.”

He brushes off the exchange. “It’s cool. Honestly, there aren’t many women falling over themselves to go out with a male nail technician,” he says in jest. “Some people have specific perceptions. They’re usually wrong but I don’t bother to correct them.”

“Oh,” you suddenly feel bad as you’d made assumptions about him too. “I mean, I think you have a lot of patience to be working on nails. Not to mention that you’re a handsome guy who gives great foot massages. I don’t see why any woman wouldn’t want to get more of that.” You catch yourself too late when you realize what you’ve just said.

He snorts your comment but doesn’t pile on it. “You’d think, right?”

You clear your throat and attempt to recover. “Well, you’re also easy to talk to. You keep the conversation flowing.” Your voice is still tight, embarrassed from your ‘cute guy who gives great foot massages’ comment.

“I appreciate that,” he smiles. He examines your nails, one last time, running the pads of his fingers over the polish to make sure that it has set properly. When he’s satisfied, he says, “Looks good. I’ll be right back, okay? Then we can get to your hand massage.” He excuses himself and gathers his tools to soak them in a cleaning solution.

When he walks away and disappears into the back room, you release a breath you seemed to be holding in for far too long. You’d never been this wound up during a mani-pedi.

A few minutes later, he returns and sets a warm towel down. He then moves the magnifying lamp out of the way, giving you a complete and unobstructed view of him. Unfortunately, this doesn't bode well for you.

“So, do you have any plans after this?” He asks casually while massaging circles into your forearms.

You’re all flustered again. “Not much. Maybe I’ll grab some mid-day coffee or something then head home.”

“Nice. Where do you grab coffee?” The feel of him dragging the pads of his fingers on your slicked skin, couple with his piercing gaze are causing your breathing to go ragged again. Suddenly, your brain blanks out on where your favorite coffee spot is.

“Just, uhm—” you struggle to pull the name out of your memory at first but manage to blurt it out when he squeezes your fingers. “It’s not far from here.”

“Oh. I don’t live in this neighborhood so I’m not familiar.” His thumb and forefinger knead your muscles in a way that should normally not feel arousing to you, but it does. And you can’t help when your thoughts slide back into wondering what else those magic fingers can do.

“I figured, if I was going to be helping out here more, maybe I should get to know the area– especially places to eat. You think you can you give me directions to the cafe?”

You shift in your seat. “Well, it’s sort of a hole-in-the-wall place. The GPS is kind of spotty on it. You have to be a local to really know where it’s at.”

“Well, my break’s coming up after this. Maybe we can drive together?”

It takes a couple of seconds for you to realize it. He's not stupid, and you were right – he's definitely self-aware. He knows that you're affected by him. Smiling to yourself, you’re happy to let him know that the feeling is mutual.

Your eyebrows twitch at how forward he’s being. “A break? But it’s only 11:30?” You laugh.

“What can I say? I think I worked you really hard–”

His response makes your eyes bulge and causes your jaw to drop.

“Oh, sorry–I meant to say, you worked me really hard.”

You throw your head back in laughter, and it makes him laugh out loud, too. He was a cocky little shit but you’re not mad at it.

When your laughs die down, he says, “I think we can both agree that we did our best to fight this–” he gestures at the space between you two.

“Oh, is that right?” You ask playfully.

"Yeah. I think we deserve a little treat. Maybe grab some lunch, wherever you want." You’re mildly aware that the massage is over but his fingers are still lingering on your hands while he patiently waits for your answer.

This is one of the most unusual ways you've been asked out, but there's a first time for everything. After thinking it over, you decide to give it a chance. "Okay. But if I agree to go to lunch with you, do I still need to tip you for the mani-pedi?”

He purses his lips in thought for a few seconds before countering. "Tell you what—if you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night, the service is on the house. We can call it even then.”

His playful proposition catches you off guard but it also intrigues you. Again, you find yourself unable to resist his charm.

“Alright.”

Your response makes him smile full-on and it’s infectious, so you can’t help but smile back. He starts to clean up his station, then turns to the older nail technician next to him who saw the whole situation unfold.

“Auntie, please don’t tell my mom,” he whispers mischievously, causing her to laugh after she agrees not to rat him out.

You giggle at his request and tell him, “I guess I’ll meet you out front whenever you’re ready?”

“Sounds good. We’ll take my car so we don’t ruin my masterpiece there,” he points at your hands.

You laugh at his retort and shake your head. Never in a million years did you ever think that you’d find a date a the nail salon. It’s one of the better things to come out of your Self-Care Sundays.

Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagines #bts fanfiction #shina asks

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (11-Epilogue)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 2.2K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, suggestive themes, smut

Notes: The end of an era! I hope you all enjoy.

A special shoutout to @roosterforme and @mak-32. Em is the one who encouraged me to make the one shot this was originally supposed to be into a full length story, and without these two constantly encouraging me, I promise this wouldn't be half the story that it turned out to be. Love ya, ladies!

-------

As it turns out, your first wedding had been a quick, private affair. The judgment the two of you received from moving as quickly as you did had made you decide early on in your engagement that a big, pompous wedding wasn’t for you. And really, you didn’t care about any of that anyway. The rumblings of a potential deployment or change of station had you moving even quicker and on a Wednesday afternoon in late summer, the two of you were married by a justice of the peace on the National Mall in DC, the Washington Monument in the background. You had wild flowers threaded through your hair and a lacy white dress and there were tourists in the background of almost all of your pictures. Despite all of that, it was still categorized as one of the best days of his life, but the second time would be different. 

Bradley wanted you to have everything you ever wanted this time, but you had been insistent that there was no need for a grand event. Wedding venues with short notice were hard to come by in San Diego and you didn’t want to get married on the beach. When Mav had suggested his hanger, you had lit up at the idea. The next few months had been a whirlwind of ordering catering and finding flowers, constructing arches and finding tables and chairs to rent and stringing twinkle lights from the ceiling - so, so many twinkle lights. But it had all been worth it once he saw the awe on your face as you walked around the open space the night before your vow renewal. The hanger was almost unrecognizable, and even though the ring was already on your finger, he couldn’t wait to marry you here tomorrow. 

You don’t sleep apart the night before, but he leaves early that morning to meet Mav and the rest of the guys from the Dagger Squad. You’ll be spending the morning with Nat and Coyote’s wife and a few of your other close girlfriends, and the kiss he gives you in the doorway to the garage is long and slow. 

“We’re getting married today,” you whisper against his lips.

“Again.” 

You laugh at his response, getting lost in his kiss. His phone dings in his pocket and he knows it’s the groupchat asking where he is, not for the first time. He pulls away from you reluctantly. 

With a sigh, he slips his ring off his finger and hands it to you. Your nose crinkles in protest, but you do the same with yours. He sees how you flex your fingers the moment you do, not used to being without them. 

“I still don’t get why you want to exchange rings again,” you mutter without any heat. Bradley kisses your forehead, lifting your left hand to his and then placing a kiss to your ringless finger. You shiver despite yourself and he smiles. 

“Because I want to enjoy putting it back on you, Pumpkin.” 

There’s really nothing you can say to that, but you roll your eyes fondly anyway, pressing forward for one more kiss. 

The morning and early afternoon go by quickly. He plays a round of golf with the guys and then they all help him with ensuring his surprise for you is completely good to go for the next day. He steps back at one point, watching as his friends, his family, work and laugh together, genuinely happy to be here for this day, for him and the two of you, and feels his heart swell. Sometimes it’s still hard to believe that this is his life. 

He doesn’t wear his dress whites like he did the first time. Instead, as afternoon fades away and guests start arriving, he changes into the blue suit you had told him was your favorite. He forgoes the tie, leaving the top button of his white shirt undone, and the early spring sun is just starting to set as he takes his place at the end of the makeshift aisle. His breath catches in his throat when you finally appear at the other end. 

It feels like it takes you forever to make it to him, but when your hand finally slips into his, the nervous energy that had been building in the last hour fades back into the normal excitement he always feels in your presence.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you whisper right back, the moment just for the two of you, “fancy seeing you here.”

“Isn't it? You come here often?”

Your smile tugs into something of a smirk, and your eyes flash with mischief, “Just twice now,” you say, “hoping we don’t have to do this again anytime soon if we can help it.”  

Bradley can’t help the laugh that he lets out, uncaring of all the people watching them from their seats, waiting for them to get started. He likes that you’re in a place where you can tease him about this now.

“I’m not going to make a habit of this,” he assures you. You squeeze his hands, and he knows that combined with the bright smile on your face, it’s your way of saying that even if he did, you’d be there at the end of the aisle walking toward him every time. 

The officiant clears his throat, asking if you were ready to begin. As the man starts the ceremony, you send Bradley a wink, and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop the giddy laughter bubbling in him at how damn happy he is to be here. 

He doesn’t take his eyes away from you the entire time, wanting every single moment ingrained in his brain forever; every smile, every word, every tear, everything. He doesn’t make it through the vows without crying, and neither do you, but you hold his hand the whole time and wipe away some of his tears with the pad of your thumb. When it’s your turn to speak, he thinks his heart is going to burst out of his chest as you read the words you had written to him. 

When it comes time to slip your ring back on your finger, it feels like you’re completely alone out here on this runway. He doesn’t exactly remember doing this before and it feels like the first time and he vows that no matter what happens, he’ll never, ever forget it. 

You’re both practically vibrating after that, a smile so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt that’s reflected on your face, too, and he doesn’t hesitate when he’s finally given permission to kiss you. He dips you as the small crowd cheers loudly in the background. He can barely kiss you because of how much the two of you are smiling, but you more than make do. 

“I love you,” he promises, an oath he’ll never break. You caress his face as he holds you. 

“I love you too. Every part of you, sweetheart.” 

—---------

He wakes you up early the next morning. Your face crinkles in protest and you move to burrow back under the safety and warmth of your blankets. With a soft, fond laugh, Bradley pulls the covers away from you completely. 

“Baby,” you groan, “it’s not even light outside yet. We barely even just fell asleep.” 

You’re right. It had been almost midnight when the two of you finally slipped away from the reception, the party still going strong. It was after two when you finally went to sleep, both of you basking in the afterglow and pressed against one another, and it was only nearing five now.  “I know,” he says, rubbing your bare hip gently, “but you gotta wake up. I have a surprise for you.” 

You crack an eye open at that and he chuckles again. “What kind of surprise?” 

“Get up and I’ll show you. Dress comfy. You can sleep on the way.” 

“On the way?” 

He winks at you, standing from the bed and walking toward the door, already dressed and ready to go. You call after him, wanting to know where you’re going, but he makes his way down the stairs without a word; he knows the curiosity will keep you awake and moving.

You join him in the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed in leggings and your favorite oversized Eagles sweatshirt. He’s struck for a moment, remembering how beautiful you were to him that first day in the hospital in the same outfit, when he didn’t remember you but he knew you. It seemed like so long ago and it blew him away how far you’ve come together in just six months. 

You fall back asleep almost as soon as he pulls out of the driveway, tucked against his side in the Bronco. Music plays quietly from the radio but it’s the sound of your breathing that really keeps him company during the drive back to the hanger in the desert. You stir awake when he puts the vehicle in park, looking around with tired, bleary eyes. 

“Are we here to clean up?” you ask through a yawn as Bradley helps you out, closing the door behind you. He shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you walk toward the building. He stops right before the runway becomes visible, looking down at you.

“I thought maybe we could watch the sunrise together.” 

You raise an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically. “We couldn’t do that from our backyard?” 

A grin tugs at his lips and he shakes his head. “Not from the clouds, we can’t.” 

You only look confused for a moment before realization hits you and you gasp loudly, suddenly looking wide awake. “It’s ready?” 

“It’s ready,” he confirms. “What do you say, Pumpkin? Want to be the very first passenger?” 

He laughs when instead of responding with words, you squeal and grab his hand, taking off running toward the other side of the building. His newly finished, flight-ready Cessna is there waiting in the lightning of the early morning. He was starting to see the faintest hint of orange in the skyline and knew time was of the essence. 

He helped you into the aircraft carefully and climbed in behind you. He went through the necessities easily, knowing that Mav had already done all the mandatory preflight checks when he brought the plane out before dawn. 

He slips your headset on you with a fond smile, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb. He double checks your seatbelt one more time, stealing a kiss before straightening in his seat.

“You ready?” He asks. You nod rapidly. With a deep breath, he begins to ease the four seater forward. Within moments, the two of you are airborne, leveling out with the clouds. The sky is beginning to streak with pinks and shades of orange and hearing you gasp in awe at the view from this high up is added to his list of favorite things, all alongside other memories of or with you. 

“Do me a favor?” he asks after a few minutes of silence. You pull away from watching the sky out of the window, turning your head toward him instead. 

“Anything.” 

He’s already smiling, so excited to show you. “Look inside your wedding band for me.” 

Your eyebrows knit together, but you follow his request anyway, slipping the jewelry off your finger and holding it close to your face to look on the inner surface. You let out a small gasp when you see words that hadn’t been there before. 

You turn it as you read, the inscription taking up almost the entire surface of the inside of the ring he had originally given you years ago. He had managed to find someone to do a same day service to make sure it was done and ready from the time he left the house yesterday to the time he said I do in the evening, and the extra charge was worth the way your lips parted and your eyes filled with tears. 

“Do you like it?” he asks, wanting that validation even though your eyes, always so expressive, conveyed just how much you did. Instead of answering right away, you leaned over, straining against your seatbelt to press a quick kiss to his lips, mindful of the fact that he was still flying the plane. 

“I love it. I love you.” 

You study the ring again, pinching it between your thumb and pointer finger of both hands to avoid dropping it, treating it like it’s something precious because he knows that, just as he views his, to you it is. 

He had accepted that he may never get all of his memories back. He may live with tingles in his brain and flashes of remembrance, living with unknown gaps for the rest of his life. It had frustrated him at first, but he had made peace with it. He knew that no matter what, you’d be here beside him, filling in what he was missing and making brand new memories along the way. Because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was the way he felt about you; it wasn’t something he had ever been able to truly forget. He planned on making sure you knew that every single day, and if he was ever not there to tell you, the words resting against your finger would do it for him. 

Remember you always, love you twice.

-----

Series Masterlist :: Spin Off One Shots :: Main Masterlist

Notes: What a journey this has been!! I can't tell you how much I appreciate every single person who has commented, reblogged, or liked this little story of mine. I hope it was everything that you wanted it to be. I'm so sad that we're already at the epilogue, but I'm so excited at potentially writing more for these two! I have a few one shots in the works for their story before Bradley's accident. If there's anything specific you'd like to see, please feel free to drop in my asks or inbox.

Tag List: @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun -@avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @zbeez-outlet - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @loveforaugust - @mssleepy876b

@kassieesworld - @luckylexie - @lovemesomevesey - @mizzzpink - @books-for-summer - @a-serene-place-to-be - @deviltsunoda - @tv-fanatic18 - @memoriesat30 - @melody-death - @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog - @dabisblackprincess - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @realdirectionx - @waywardhunter95 - @myownworstenemyyy - @sexualparkour - @sadpetalsstuff - @almostgenerallyalways -@alilstressyandlotdepressy - @14readwritedraw96 - @ccbb2222 - @taytaylala12 - @alittlechaotics-blog - @starkleila

@shelbycillian - @mavrellover91 - @vici111 - @merishfit - @plaper1 - @lunamooncole - @eclecticfashionbookszipper - @pariahsparadise - @bunny-nonnie - @blackwidownat2814 - @huang-the-geek - @jpgliv - @topaz125 - @bluelicious - @loveyhoneydovey - @pisupsala - @nuvoleincielo - @littlemiss-n - @olivezeppelin - @jynxmirage - @shanimallina87 - @ouralcohol - @lumpypoll - @discowitchyy - @bellaireland1981- @princessmiaelicia - @eighthwvnder - @floydflys - @smile-child-13 - @rashelruby10 - @aj-weekend - @wolfiealina - @csoutsider - @cowboybarbie - @haydensith - @itsizzythebell - @caitlin222 - @vabeachazn - @phantomxoxo - @letsgomamas - @myhealthymarvelobsession - @slippinginto-theairwaves - @winterrebel04

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw #top gun fanfiction #tgm fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #Bradley bradshaw fic #alli writes #Bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw angst #Bradley Bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw x you #rooster x you #remember you even when i don’t #bradley bradshaw: forgetful boy

[mrsbrookemunson]

Request for the 30-days-of-insecurities-thingy, smile. I'm very insecure of my smile because i got bullied a lot for it.

Could I get tagged??🙏🙏

But, of course, @maddymadquinn !!! When I read this, I knew it had to be the first part to my insecurity series, and I hope I did your request justice.

Warnings: no use of 'y/n', gn!reader, use of pet names like 'sweetheart', and 'love', insecure!reader (obvi), intrusive thoughts, self deprecating thoughts, Eddie being in love with you, 'L' bombs all over the place, bullying, fluffy, kinda rushed ending, most likely typos, and what the request says-it's all about teeth and your smile-I tried to keep it basic, if you have braces or a gap tooth or whatever, it'll fit in with the story. Enjoy :)

Word Count: 2225

Taglist: @strangerthingsstories5255 @totalmesstm @kiszkathecook @poofyloofy @beeblisss @stylesxmunson @munsonsguitarpick @mlvgren @dream-a-little-nightmare @munsonsuccubus @katsukisimpsblog @iheartyouyou @eddiebaemunson @emma77645 @eviethetheatrefreak @pappachismoth @erinsingalong @letitiasleftfoot @eddiesguitarskills @trixyvixx @myfangirlheartsblog @emxxblog @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @prettiest-angel @ajokeformur-ray @livsters @cherrycolas-things @chloe-6123 @hazydespair @wolfstarsiriusly @steveharringtonswifey-09

Series Masterlist | Eddie Munson Masterlist

~ Just Smile ~

"You would look prettier if you smiled more."

"Why don't you ever smile?"

"Just smile."

You're used to comments like that, often hearing them from your classmates at Hawkins High...

But, here's the thing—

#1: My Smile

You hate your smile, often giving people the closed-mouth smile or a tight thin-lipped smile that doesn't quite ever reach your eyes. But, you refuse to smile with your teeth.

This makes one day very hard for you every time it comes.

Picture Day.

A day made from Hell to torture you, where people reassure you—"Oh!, it's not that bad..." or "Everyone looks bad in school photos." Really? Tell that to the Queen of Hawkins High, Chrissy Cunningham, or Steve 'the Hair' Harrington, or Heather Holloway, or Nancy Wheeler—even Robin seems to pull out a good one.

But, you?

Freshman Year—

"Big smile!" the photographer instructed.

And did you give her one-flashing your teeth... only to receive said photo later on just to cry to your mom about how bad it looked... and that your teeth looked wrong. The demon in your head won the longer you stared at the photo.

"Honey, it's fine—no one likes their school photos."

It was after all the other girls and boys bragging about their photos did you swear you'd never smile with your teeth in photos again.

Sophomore Year—

You prepared yourself, watching the person before you take their picture. Hearing the lady call 'next' with a short glance toward you. You took a deep breath, walking to the seat. When you sat down, your heart began to race a little—a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

It felt as though things were moving in slow motion, a deep, patronizing voice, "Give me a big smile". The lady demonstrated, exaggeratedly.

Your eyes flickered to a group of your classmates, snickering at you with pointed fingers. They taunted your smile with their own.

"Big smile!" the lady repeated.

You heard the laughs of the group echoing in your ears, you quickly revealed your teeth in a wide grin. The flash of the camera temporarily blinding you.

"Next!'

You blinked a few times before moving along. You shuffled past the group until you heard the call of your name from one of them. With that you spun around to face them with nervous, wide eyes, and a once again, pounding heart.

One of the teenagers smiled at you, a fake, catty, insulting smile as they stalked closer to you. "Thought you'd want to know you have something—" They gestured to their mouth, specifically their teeth "Right there."

One of their friends snorted loudly in the back.

You frowned and went to the bathroom in a slight rush to check it out. When you found your own reflection in the mirror you bared your teeth only to find... your teeth—your smile.

All you saw was yourself.

Quickly understanding, you felt yourself falling apart—

Is that why they laugh at you when you smile and say hello passing them in the halls?

You thought you heard it in their tone—the fakeness of it all.

You ripped up your school photo when you got it after witnessing the same group as before commenting on it with their giggles and chuckles. You blocked your face with tape in your yearbook, so you'd never have to see yourself looking back.

Is that why they all laughed when you signed their yearbook the previous year? You only dug yourself farther into a hole, thinking about what would happen next.

That's when you swore you'd never smile again.

Junior Year—

The year you got a certain metalhead's attention.

He was in the same grade as you, and you shouldn't have even met, but you purposely ditched picture day and your mom forced you to go to retake day. Turns out you weren't the only one who hated this day.

The two of you grumbled under your breath, overhearing him next to you caught your attention.

"Mom forced you to do this too?" you asked.

"Uncle."

You chuckled, breathily. "What was his excuse?"

His posture straightened. "'You can't just run away and hide when you don't want to do something, boy! You have to stand up to it!'" he imitated this so-called 'uncle's' voice.

You giggled, but stopped when you suddenly felt his eyes on you. You dared to look and saw his gaze on your teeth. You cleared your throat and turned away from him.

You missed the way he frowned, as he missed the sight of your smile and the sound of your laugh in just seconds.

"What about you?" he chimed from behind you.

"Huh?" You kept your guard up, still turned away from him.

"Your mom's motive?"

"Oh—yeah! " You swallowed. "That I'll regret it one-day." You shook your head. "I highly doubt that though."

"Why didn't you attend picture day?"

"Tried to pull a you—ditch—avoid it..." you paused. "Run away from it." You suddenly found the palm of your hand more interesting than the beautiful boy behind you—actually wanting to talk to you!

You heard him chuckle. "Sounds like you and my uncle think the same of me."

"I don't know you—but I don't think you're a cult leader, that's for sure."

"But, most people do, hence why I try to get away with not doing this.” He gestures to the setup in front of you two. “Have no doubt they write freak over my face, or draw devil horns over my head in their little yearbooks."

There was a beat of silence and you could feel the slight nudge of his foot against yours.

You bit your lip, thinking about what he said. What he admitted to you so effortlessly. How could he trust you so fast without even knowing your name—who you are?

You sigh, "I hate my smile."

"C'mon, I just saw it and it's—"

"Ugly—I know."

"No, I was gonna say—"

" Next!"

You don't look back when you walk up ignoring Eddie.

"Show me a big smile!" she asks.

You, however, do not, giving her only a neutral expression. She takes the picture and looks down at it, uncomfortably.

"Uhhh... want me to take another one?"

"No." You left, hastily.

Eddie ignored the call for him as with narrowed eyes, watching you leave, he sets his own personal goal—

To get you to smile for him one day.

Senior Year—

"Ready for picture day, sweetheart?" Eddie asked, placing a sloppy kiss onto your cheek.

You grumbled, wiping his kiss away. "No."

He placed yet another kiss on your cheek in replacement of the old one. "I know, I know." He drummed a steady beat against the sides of your torso. "But, you look beautiful today, but then again you always do."

You grew flustered. "Thanks," you whispered.

"Next!'

You walked up to the seat and took your place.

"Big smile!"

You glared at the lady. "Seriously? I thought we were past this now."

Your eyes flickered to Eddie who gave you an encouraging thumbs up and a nod with an annoyingly cute smile on his face. That was enough for you to muster up a small closed-mouth smile and that was enough to make Eddie's heart soar.

Safe to say, he accomplished his goal.

Present—

Eddie did not accomplish his goal.

God, you haven't smiled in a week—a week! And at this point he thought he was going to lose his mind.

You've been having a tough week. With your allergies acting up, to school and work stressing you out, to even those special, rare moments of silence you have, only to have them be interrupted by one thing or another. And he tried, he tried to get you to even break a little smile for him, but he just couldn't do it.

Something had to be wrong.

Something was wrong, on your side of the story. Work, school, allergies, and lack of peace haven't been the only things keeping you up late at night. It was this intrusive thought every time you looked in the mirror, it was the people you interacted with at work whose gaze simply rested on your smile that made you falter, the once in a while backhanded comments people would make. You couldn't find it in yourself anymore to smile or even laugh—you felt exhausted and defeated.

Because it was you, your smile, something you owned—and people didn't like it. And at times you think you're cursed.

It's you.

You stumbled around your room, picking up random pieces of trash off the floor, and tidying things up before bed. You felt a slight pressure in between your eyebrows from wanting to cry a few times during your episodes.

You sighed and collapsed onto your bed. Just before you were about to get comfortable you heard a faint tapping on your window. You jumped at the sound, until you saw a familiar ring adorning a finger. You got up and walked over to the window, opening it.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, tiredly.

He only smiled. "I got some stuff for you." His eyes glanced behind you. "Can I come in?"

You rolled your eyes and moved to the side, giving him room for him to enter. "Come on in, Prince Charming."

His smile got wider, stepping inside, and nearly tripping on a small stack of books near your window. He revealed a bouquet of your favorite flowers. "For you." He handed them to you. You took them, with a curious expression. Suddenly, he's rifling through a plastic bag he brought. "Okay, so I got Breakfast Club, Nightmare on Elm Street, I even brought The Outsiders, and that other movie you like uh—" He read the title. "Some Kind of Wonderful."

Your eyes widened. "You brought all of those."

"Well, I thought we could have a little movie night," he replied, nonchalantly. "I also brought your favorite snacks and candy, even your favorite drink." He looked at your dumbfounded face. He set down the bag and brought his hands up to caress your upper arms. "Look, I know you've been having a bad week and I want to make it a little better."

Your eyes avert away from him. You sniffled, holding the flowers closer to your chest. "I don't deserve you, you know."

He shook his head. "Not true."

You argued, "No, no it is true, you deserve someone who you can show off to—to prove those jerks from school wrong, and I-I can't do that."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

Tears rimmed your eyes. "Eddie, why are people so mean?"

He was taken aback. "Sweetheart..." He gently took the flowers out of your hands and placed them on your dresser. He pulled you into his chest. "What's wrong? Did someone say something to you?"

You nodded. "Yes..." You cry into his shirt.

"Who? I'll go kick their ass right now."

"No! It's—" You found yourself becoming embarrassed. "it's not just one person—so many people just—" You struggled to get the words out. "I just want to be able to smile without feeling judged—I feel like I'm forced to remain in bitch-face mode just so I don't have to deal with people staring or commenting or doing something that revolves around that—especially our classmates.” You pulled away to look him in the eyes. "I just want to feel beautiful when I smile Eddie."

He looked at you in shock at your confession. He knew you hated your smile, that was the start of you two, but hearing it now as someone more than a stranger was heartbreaking to him. Seeing the one he's so so in love with falling apart in front of him over something he couldn't stop thinking about for months and months.

"God, sweetheart, don't you see I'd do anything to keep you smiling."

"What?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

"I know you hate your smile, but god—I love it. I've loved it ever since I met you, and from that moment I wanted to make you smile everyday. Lights up my world and shit, if I'm being honest." He seemed nervous, fidgeting with the ends of your shirt.

"You mean it?" Your voice slightly cracked as the emotions of love rushed through you. You're almost starstruck by him. Over the moon. Your heart flutters and your stomach flips seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

Has he always looked at you that way? Have you just never noticed?

Truth is: Yes, he has, and no... you didn't.

"Jesus, yes, you're so beautiful and that smile of yours is beautiful," he pauses. "And who fucking cares what anyone says? Or thinks? Fuck them!"

You laughed.

His eyes widen as he stumbles back with a dazed expression. "I think I just died—" He dramatically falls on the bed. "And went to heaven," he finished. "Are you an angel?"

You laugh again, this time louder. "Stop it," you squeal.

"I'm serious." He pulls you over to him. You slot between his legs as he looks up at you with a slight pout. "I want you to talk to me when you're feeling insecure about yourself. I don't want you bottling up your feelings." He cups your face with the warmth of his hands to make sure he has your full attention. "I love every single thing about you, sweetheart. And I'll do anything and everything for you to realize that, no matter how long it might take. "

If only you knew just how serious he was.

Next Chapter: Actions Speak Louder Than Words (nsfw)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie angst #eddie stranger things #eddie #eddie fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things season four #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x reader

[ohforficsake]

Talk Refined

main masterlist

Summary: Orpheus and Eurydice. A Blacksmith and a Warrior. A Lawyer and the Lady He Meets at a Bar. Two souls fated to find each other across lifetimes. Here are just a few of those stories.

Pairing: Ezra x f!Reader. Reader is able-bodied and takes many forms. Described as having hair that can be pinned back in one instance, generally open description in others.

This is my submission for @wannab-urs Hozier Drabble Challenge! My character was Ezra, and my prompt was "Talk" off of Wasteland, Baby!. This was such a fun challenge, thank you so much for organizing it, Gin!

Word Count: ~5.8K (I blew past drabble, I'm so sorry)

Rating: Explicit 18+ / brief fingering / brief handjob / unprotected piv / language / main character death / Minors DNI

A/N: This was so incredibly fun to write and I actually had a huge smile on my face when I finished it that I'm pretty sure is still there. I'm incredibly happy with how this turned out. I've never written for Ezra before, so this was a really interesting exercise in finding the voice of a character that I found quite challenging to get to the heart of. Ezra folks, I really hope I did your boy justice.

Notes on literary references and the source of Orpheus' speech (not written by me) included at the end.

I'm also kind of just launching this super hot off the press, so please forgive any typos you may find and definitely message me about them once you're done reading.

Massive thank you to @beskarandblasters for the beautiful cover art for this story! 💚 Go hit Kel up if you're looking for a lovely header for your work!

Dividers by @cafekitsune!

Part I: The Darkness of the Night

He’s called Orpheus in this lifetime. Blessed with his mother’s tongue. 

No way of knowing he forever will be.  

A twist of phrase. A glint in the eye. 

A white patch at his hairline is the only mark of his father. As if licked there by the rays of Apollo’s creation.

And he is his mother’s boy, plucking at lyre strings and humming low, branches bending to his ambit as he harmonizes with the rush of Zephyrus’ wings through tall grasses.

But you are a rich distraction indeed.

A distraction perhaps of the West Wind’s own making, for the god has always been a soft touch. 

The breeze toys with your chiton as you drift in and out of dreams. 

Molding gossamer to your form.

A promise of something just for him.

Orpheus reaches to run his knuckles down your arm, awaiting your stirring before he takes fingers over your shoulder, up to cup your cheek.

You turn to press against the warmth of his hand. The pad of his thumb softly skimming your bottom lip.

It sends sparks racing across your skin.

He hums a laugh and fits closer to you, warmer now than the midday sun. You slant your eyes up at him, greeted with a smile before he bends to press a long kiss to your mouth.

His lyre is discarded in the grass now, wildflowers poking up through its strings.

The hand on your cheek moves to pull at his red linen handkerchief around your neck. Tied there in the morn to guard the late-hour transgressions of his lips from judgmental stares. 

Again revealed to him now.

He tucks the cloth into his zoster before his fingers dip under the gauze of your robes, cupping one breast before his lips replace fabric.

“The dryads, my darling,” you whisper a warning into the heated hollow of his mouth.

“Fret not, my love,” he chides with a whisper.

And you whimper a wanton, insincere protest as his hand adjusts to move lower still, nimble fingers inching your hemline up until your thighs are bared to him.

“Surely such creatures would sympathize. Look favorably on newlywed dalliance.”

“For they understand pleasures such as these,” he murmurs as his fingers slip over your core.

"The nymphs haven’t our flesh," you gasp against his curls as he bends to nip at the lush of your breast.

"They have our desires."

"The nymphs know fertile things in ways we never shall, my darling Eurydice," ghosts hot against your skin. 

"And surely they know what comes of something flush with want."

The press of his length against you causes your hips to tilt into his hand as your languid knees fall open.

"To deny that nature is to deny the nymphs themselves, little dove."

He tips his face to brush petal-soft lips against your frantic pulse as he shifts over you.

"For you see, they don’t care."

And the breach of him causes your back to arch, nails digging into the corded muscle of his arms.

You bend enough for your eyes to land on the grove of oak trees.

Unsure if begging forgiveness. 

Or reveling in their jealousy.

But there are other eyes on you this day. Watching the deft way your husband wrings pleasure from your form. 

The way he rolls you over on a bed of meadowsweet to press deeper still.

Holding your body to his as he pulls music from your throat.

Other eyes, indiscreet in their desire and relentless in their pursuit.

Other eyes that lead to your journey across the Styx.

Lead to Orpheus’ torment.

They say there are ways to speak with the dead.

But words will not pacify the poet when the possibility exists to feel you beneath him again.

A body that writhes under his own. Skin soft against the way his burns.

The way you welcome the thick weight of him.

All of him.

Into the warm clutch of your wet cunt.

And Orpheus, driven by his desire and blessed with his mother’s gift, marches boldly into the depths of grief.

“You powers divine of the subterranean kingdom, where all of mortal creation must one day sink to our doom, if you will give me permission to tell you the truth unvarnished by shifty pretenses…”

“I’d hoped to be able to bear my loss and confess that I tried.”

And the dance of his fingers over gut string pricks the ears of the damned as he gives verse to his flesh’s torment.

“In the name of these confines of fear, in the name of this vast abyss and your realm of infinite silence, I, Orpheus, implore you, unravel the web of my dear Eurydice’s early passing.”

A prayer for relief.

“This is the place that we all are bound for, our final dwelling, and yours is the longest reign that the human race must endure.”

Through vulpine teeth.

“Eurydice too, when her due of years has been ripely completed, shall own your sway. Till then, I beg you to let me enjoy her.”

And it moves the hound to cease its lashing. 

Moves the one eternally punished to rest upon his stone. 

Moves the dead of Winter to cave to the tender brush of Spring’s hand.

And you are called forth by a voice between what should be your ears. 

And Orpheus begins to move.

Daring to hope for your sweet clutch again as your footsteps grow louder against stone.

As you take the form he knows, more corporeal with every footfall.

The tenderness in your ankle made manifest with flesh.

And his cock throbs with the thought of you.

His wife.

His muse.

But there’s a pause in the lilting cadence of your step.

Where you’ve stopped to grab for the fallen handkerchief that slipped from his belt.

And the panic flooding his breast moves him against all hope.

And he turns.

And you reach for him.

Before disappearing for the final time.

With forgiveness swimming in your eyes.

Part II: Pilgrim, Stranger, Wanderer

He’s called Doran in this lifetime.

A name you learn upon ducking into the blacksmith’s workshop with another man’s name on your lips. 

“Callum!” You call, greeted instead by a shock of white hair where blonde should be.

Round brown eyes where you expected green.

“Apologies,” you offer, “I am looking for the smith.”

“Callum was called away to his family in the north country.”

His answering voice like honey just starting to crystalize. 

“I’m called Doran,” he bends his head in customary greeting.

And you note the broad spread of his hand against his chest.

“I apprenticed under Callum, in what feels like a lifetime ago now, I admit.” He offers a small smirk. “He asked that I mind the forge in his absence.”

And you give him your name but not your full belief in this story.

“May I help you with something, dove?”  

You straighten against the rake of his eyes. “My horse requires particular shoes. She is of a larger breed and nothing standard will suit.”

And you turn your back to him leading the way outside.

Doran whistles low at the sight of your mare, a sturdy Friesian glossed blue in the morning sun.

“She is a stunning creature,” he purrs, gently taking his fingers over her strong neck.

Pausing to thumb the iris stamped into the leather of her bridle.

“She’s no delicate thing,” you watch as he circles the horse. “Her grandsire was a draft who pulled the High King’s carriage.”

He fits one massive hoof between his knees, gently brushing away the feathers at her ankle before she starts fighting his touch. 

He adjusts her gently, inspecting her irons before she protests in earnest.

“It’s apparent,” he says, quickly dropping the horse’s foot and jumping aside before she stamps and shakes her head, “that her blood runs hot.”

“She does not favor the touch of men,” you answer, soothing a hand over her hindquarters. “I should have forewarned you.”

“A fair lady is entitled to her opinions when she is that beautiful,” Doran gives her a wide berth.

And takes his eyes over you instead. 

“You are the nobleman’s daughter.” He squints against the sun. “The warrior?” 

“I am.”

“Now,” he pulls a rag from his pocket and rubs at his hands, “I know well the dangers of feminine beauty but a warrioress is altogether new to me. You are not riding into battle soon, I pray?”

“One in my position exists in a constant state of preparation. But there is no rumble of battle on the horizon.” 

His smirk dimples one cheek now.

“I shall have the shoes for your láir within the week. And I shall pray you need not fly away before then, little dove.”

“May I make half the payment now for your services? This was the custom with the old smith.”

“The only payment for my services I can insist upon is merely the chance to sit in your presence a moment longer. Would a fair lady allow a humble blacksmith that much?”

And you see straight through him. Through to the tools on the wall. 

But the broad set of his shoulders under ash-smudged linen. The way he moves, lithe and light on his feet as he dances between his stock of iron bars and his cache of hammers. The bright wideness of his eyes that betray sincerity or something of its kin.

A humble one no. But this one, perhaps.

You drop a pouch of coins onto his anvil. “Where?”

“Meet me here. In the morrow?”

And you tell him “maybe” in the moment as you climb into your saddle.

But you arrive on foot the next morning. 

_____

You meet him three mornings in the week it takes him to forge your mare’s irons. 

On the first day he tells you of his travels through Spain and France. Of scrambling up the masts of the ship that brought him to your shore. 

On the third, he recites The Bard’s work with such nuance that you’re not entirely sure he isn’t the man himself.  

On the fifth day he leads you out to the ruins of an old monastery, up a winding staircase until you’re forced to stand so close on the crumbling parapet that you can feel the heat of him at your back.

Your head spins from something other than the height.

On the seventh day he places four horseshoes, lovingly wrapped in burlap and bound with hemp cord, into the hand he has cradled in his own. 

Warm and worn.

“Can I see you again?” He murmurs, barely a foot between you.

“Is that wise?”

“I have been mistaken for many things, little dove.” He brushes two knuckles over your cheekbone. “Nary a man has included wise among them.”

And you scoff but press into his touch all the same. 

“Forgive me my boldness,” he takes his fingers under your chin, “but I must pose the question.”

“Your mare does not favor the touch of men.”

“But,” he purrs, “do you?”

And your lips form the word “goodnight” but you don’t dare move.

Your eyes flash with a want that does not go neglected. 

“Must you take your leave?” He thumbs your bottom lip.

“I must.”

“But what of my payment,” he hums.

“As I recall you beseeched me pay with my time,” you tilt your head, reveling in the brush of warm breath against your skin, “I dare say I’ve tendered more than my share.”

“And yet I am in debt every time you take your presence from me,” he smirks. “There is something of you, little dove, that I fear has a hold on—”

You steal the words from his lips with your own.

And the unabashed delight dancing over his features when you part makes you kiss him again.

You fling your arm to rest the irons on the first surface you can find, desperate to wind your hands in his hair as his fit to your waist.

He urges your mouth open with the soft slip of his tongue. Humming when you let him inside.

“Little bird,” he pants when he tears his lips from you, forehead thumping hard against yours. “I confess if you stay past this moment I shall not be able to exercise any measure of restraint.”

“Is restraint what you desire?” You angle heavy-lidded eyes up at him. 

“Not in the slightest,” he swallows hard, fist still gripping at your hair. “But you are a gentle lady with a good name, and I—”

“I want you, Doran,” you murmur. “This.”

And his head falls back on his shoulders with a tight, pained hiss.

“I confess I have given in to the fantasy of hearing that fall from this lush mouth many nights since first we met.”

And he expects heat to rise to your cheeks at his admission. But the hand that cradles your neck finds no such warmth.

“Do you know how it works?” He hums low, running his palm down your sleeve to lace thick fingers with yours. “Pleasure?” He brings your knuckles to his lips, eyes glinting in hearthlight. 

And there is sincerity evident in his gaze.

For you are a gentle lady with a good name. 

“Mmm, have you felt this?” He takes your hand, gliding it over the rough wool of his trousers.

To the hard line of his length underneath them. 

Your breath skips.

You are no stranger to amusement of the flesh. But never before have you felt so—much. 

“Feel me, birdie,” he hums, rolling his forehead against yours, “what you do to me. I fear there isn’t any blood left for the rest of me.” He kisses you again. “Only for you. This. Just for you.”

“Your bed, Doran,” you murmur against his mouth.

The hand over yours encircles your wrist and he leads you through to his chambers.

He pulls you tight to his body again, mouths locked as his hands roam your form, unable to settle upon what features his fingers must traverse first. 

You push the braces from his shoulders and he helps you with the buttons of his shirt, your hands skating up the smooth expanse of tanned skin before tugging at your own shirttails.

Your lips find his neck as he unbuttons his trousers. You’ve already stepped out of yours.

“So eager, birdie,” he wraps you in his arms, and your skin burns with his touch. “Surely you’ve seen it with beasts, yes?” He salts your neck with kisses. “It’s quick with them, you see. It doesn’t have to be. Doesn’t have to—”

A moan cuts off his babbling from where you’ve taken him in hand. 

“Although I may yet need to beg your forgiveness,” his hips buck into your hand, “my stamina may yet waiver, upon this first time.”

His tongue slips into your mouth again and finally he finds himself enough to back you up until your thighs meet his bed. 

“It’s been so long. So long, birdie, since I have held a woman.” He leans you back with his body as your hands fly to his hair. “Longer still since I have held one as soft. Supple and pliant as you.” His lips map your collarbone, nose skimming the valley of your breasts as he takes one in hand.

“Never before is a long time indeed.”

He sucks at tender, pebbled skin, drawing an arch in your spine as he shifts to settle between your legs.

“I give you my word that I will indeed take my time with you but I offer a preemptive apology in the instance that I fail upon this first time.” His fingers slip down to toy with your folds, groaning against your ribs at the wetness that he finds there. “Perhaps we are no different than animals indeed.” 

You hear only half of his babbling. 

The static of anticipation under your skin crackles in your ears as your hips tip into his hand. His thumb slides over your clit and you cry out. 

“You see, sometimes a man just needs to bury himself deep.”

He slings your legs over his hips and sits up on his knees, stroking his length with your borrowed wetness as your hands find his thighs.

There’s a dark edge to his voice now. Heavy-lidded eyes locked on the core of you.

“This need. It’s far stronger than I ever will be.”

“Now, Doran, I need—”

He doesn’t make you wait.

And he keeps his word in the moments it matters. Slowly rocking his hips to stretch you open on his cock before your body begs him deeper.

Large palms settle around your waist as he builds in pace, alternating slow with fast. Tenderness with force that drives the bedframe to knock against the wall. When his thumb winds circles against your clit you cry into the night as pleasure rips through you. Greedy lips crash against yours as his weight blankets your reeling form. Fevered moans in his chest thrum through you as he savors the way your walls pulse around him. 

He buries his face against your neck and you feel the bite of his teeth as he snarls, drawing closer and closer to the edge.

He cants his hips just so at the last minute, pulling himself from your heat a moment before his seed streams hot over your thigh.

You soothe a hand over the nape of his neck as his hips spasm with the last of it, wide hand cradling your jaw and tipping your face to his.

Kisses softer now. 

Grateful.

“You are a rare bird indeed,” he murmurs against your ear, lips ghosting over your neck. 

He finds himself enough to rise from bed and kneel on the floor, searching for his handkerchief amongst the tangle of his clothes. 

Yours peeks from the pocket of your trousers, red against brown wool, and you lazily twirl a corner of it around your finger and draw it out.

Doran catches it from your hand, gently cleaning your thigh of his spend before pressing a kiss there. 

“I shall return this to you clean,” he holds it up briefly before craning to press a kiss to your lips. “Don’t trouble a hair on your head with moving, birdie,” he bids you before disappearing to the kitchen.

You trouble the hair on your head all the same as you pull the jostled pins from it, tousling it out of the style your nurse had so meticulously placed it in this morning. 

Doran returns with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He fills them as you prop yourself up on your side and he settles on the floor. One arm slung up on the mattress.

Adoration in his eyes as he tips his glass against yours.

“You didn’t tell me this was not your first time. Although I do find it rather a pleasant surprise,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your waist with lust-hazed eyes.

“I could scarcely utter a word amidst your chatter,” you tease with a grin as you take another sip of your whiskey.

His smile dimples his cheek. 

“Are you—”

For once he hesitates to speak.

“Are you promised to anyone?”

You catch his hand and bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his palm before he thumbs your cheekbone.

“None but myself. And my duty.”

He hums in acknowledgment. 

You finger the white patch at his hairline, twirling a clinging curl. 

“Angered a horse as a child and she made it known with her hooves,” he offers. “Frightened the color from that spot, I’m afraid.”

“There’s character in it. I’m quite fond.”

He turns in and rests his chin on the bed, hand back to trailing over your curves. 

“Dove?”

And you frown at the nickname.

“I am nothing so delicate, Doran.”

“A shrike then, perhaps,” he smirks, knuckles ghosting over your stomach. 

And something about it makes your heart preen.

“Has a man ever,” his fingers dip lower over your abdomen, “put his mouth on you?” 

It sends a fresh jolt of pleasure racing up your spine. You turn onto your back without thought, basking in his touch as fingers trail over your mound.

“Right here?” The pads of his middle and ring fingers wind softly against your clit.

“No,” you gasp.

“Then may I have the pleasure of being the first?”

And he is the first in a way that has you wishing for him to be the last. 

The only.

_____

Your handmaid was sympathetic to your cause, having been driven from her own house for true love. They share a small cottage on your father’s land now.

Your mother, though she did not know the intricacies of your continued dalliances with the blacksmith, knew the shift in your demeanor was a man’s doing. And she always was a soft touch for love.

Your father.

Was your mother’s concern. 

And so your nurse covers your footsteps with a tickle in her throat that needs clearing.

Ushers you back into your chambers before morning light with a knowing smile.

“I always thought you would make a pass for the stable hand,” she confesses one day as she pours heated water over your hair. “The blacksmith is a surprise.”

“An unpleasant one?”

“Not in the slightest. He’s handsome.”

You can tell there is more to the sentiment. 

“Yes, and?” You ask with a raised brow.

“Rakish.”

“Perhaps rakish is what I need,” as you rub water from your eyes. 

“No lady with sense needs rakish, my darling girl,” she chides as she rubs soap at your scalp. “But a lady with sense should indulge in it from time to time.” 

This draws a smile across your lips.

“He treats you well?”

“He treats me to pleasure the likes of which I have never known. If I offer this kingdom the breath in my breast every time I leave its gates, the least I may be permitted is the choice of a lover.” 

And so she fixes you bitter tea every morning that you return from your rakish man.

_____

The pair of you take to late night meetings at the old groundskeeper’s shack on your parents’ land. 

Where the splashing of the brook over rocks and the churn of the water wheel stifle the way he makes you cry out in pleasure.

And for one so verbose, he does excel at discretion. Raking ashes from the forge through the patch of white in his hair. Bending shadows around himself as he slips from town and into the forest at the edge of the estate. 

The pair of you carry on for months. Until summer sun yields to the darkening blanket of fall. 

A welcome change that lengthens your stolen hours.

“I’d wager that we were lovers in lives past,” he muses one night, lips pressing kisses against a scar on your shoulder. “You know me, little bird. The very depths of me.”

“Perhaps,” you roll over in a luxuriant stretch, “you are easy to know.”

“The Townsfolk would perhaps beg to differ, my darling.” He rests his hand on your cheek as you curl into him.

“Must you go in the morrow?” He asks softly.

“I’m afraid I must. For it is my duty. To ensure the safety—”

“—of the kingdom,” you both finish.

“In that case, I have made you a gift.” He reaches over your form down to the pocket of his cloak, and produces a small canvas pouch.

He sits up with you, pulling your back to his chest, arms around your middle as he watches you. 

A small silver disk threaded on a chain falls into your palm. An iris stamped into the pendant.

“Doran, it’s beautiful. You made this?”

“It is perhaps more crude than a silversmith’s work,” he helps you fasten it around your neck, “but I wanted you to have something to remember my touch in the absence of it.”

You turn towards him such that he can see you in the firelight. Ash on your jaw from where you held him to your neck, perched atop his hips while he ground deep. 

Silver pendant hanging just above the valley of your breasts. 

“Beautiful,” he smiles, pressing a kiss against your lips, thumbing at the smudge on your chin. “I have always thought there to be something undeniably sensual in the furl of iris petals,” he rumbles, “how fitting for them to be your favorite.”

“Your imagination is swift, Doran.”

“You have not beheld what I have, dearheart,” he pulls you down against the bed linens once more.

Holding you against his heart. 

And he is quiet for a long while, fingers running softly over your stomach, nose buried in your hair.

“What of my safety?” He asks. 

A plea to keep you here. 

“What shall I do?”

“I have no doubt you will find another iris that unfurls for you in the meanwhile,” you hum. Eyes slipping closed. 

“There is only one, my love. I shall wait for your return.”

_____

A grand crowd lines the streets as you and the men of your battalion ride towards the village gates the next morning. Full of cheers and blessings.

And you offer the customary wave and nod.

But your heart hammers against chainmail. 

Eyes darting through the crowd.

Willing a shock a white to appear. 

And as you near the gates he greets you.

Warm brown eyes and a grin of pride. He rushes to push through the crowd as you approach on your mare, eyes never leaving each other. 

You slip one foot from your stirrup and he jams one of his into it and stands, briefly.

Long enough to cup the base of your skull and lay a parting kiss against your lips.

You hurriedly pull your red handkerchief from behind your breastplate, pressing it into his palm as he drops away.

Crushing the cloth to his heart as you slip through the gates. 

And it will yield the ire of your father and the warm, joyous tears of your mother.

But they matter not.

For you do not return home under your own power. 

You return home under a shroud. 

Your nurse slips into the night, treading your path with your necklace in hand.

“She was found with her hand over her heart. And this underneath it.”

And the blacksmith. 

Wrought with grief.

Is never seen again.

Part III: The Helper. The Protector.

He’s called Ezra in this lifetime. 

Brought to this bar by a group of associates keen on celebrating his win in federal court this afternoon. 

And he knows it’s an excuse to drink on the firm’s dime.

He was an associate once too. 

But they helped draft the brief that saved their client $44 million. A few drinks is a small thanks. 

Ezra sticks to the corners, entertaining chatter only when approached. Kindly redirecting the advances of a first year who’s too young to realize flirting with a partner is career suicide.

He’s content tonight to sip his bourbon and observe.

“Okay, but I told you that Bismark case was horseshit and the judge was going to see that!” One associate who is two drinks too deep roars.

“That was so fucking risky, I still can’t believe you put so much weight on that,” another chides.

“Fucking WORKED though!” And the first man spreads his arms wide.

Knocking you into the sip of red wine you were about to take from your seat at the bar. 

“Jesus, fuckin’—” you start before taking a deep breath and glancing down at the patch of deep burgundy beginning to spread on your white blouse. 

Fuck.

“Boys, boys, this lovely lady didn’t consent to hearing your opinions on bullshit 4th Circuit rulings, okay?” Ezra appears, stretching an arm between you and the men. “Let’s be a little more careful, take it to a booth, yeah?”

“Miss, I apologize on their behalf,” he starts and you take another centering breath because you really are not here for some hotshot lawyer’s apologies. This is your spot, and they’re fucking with your Thursday night nightcap.

But the brown eyes you’re met with are wide and sincere.

And something at the very core of you thrums momentarily with something you can’t name. 

“Please, allow me to replace your wine and cover your tab for the night.” He’s already calling the barman over before you can assure him that’s really not necessary because they’ve fucked up your night already and you just want to go home. 

“Could you please arrange a fresh glass of wine for this lovely lady, place her tab on the card I gave you, and may I have a shot glass of white wine. I need the white wine as quickly as you can, please. Thanks very much.”

And you’re still staring at those brown eyes.

Bristling and dumbstruck at the same time. 

“Ezra,” he holds out a hand in belated introduction, and you offer a firm shake and your name in exchange.

“Sorry, a shot glass of white wine?” You quip as the bartender places it in front of Ezra.

He slips a red pocket square from his jacket and dips a corner into the shot glass.

“Apologies, may I?”

And inexplicably you turn in towards him on your bar stool as he dabs at the stain on your shirt. 

Just over your heart. 

“White wine will keep the stain from setting,” he proffers.

You crane your neck to the side, trying to settle your focus on cut glass bottles and not the stranger tending to the fine layer of cotton just above your left breast. 

He’s gentle though. Respectful in a way you perhaps didn’t anticipate. 

He smells of hinoki wood and worn leather.

“Right as rain,” he announces and takes half a step back before offering you the handkerchief. “If you want to hold that there to blot some of the excess.”

“Um, yeah, thank you. Thanks,” you hold the cloth over your heart as the bartender returns with your fresh glass of wine. 

Ezra settles on the barstool next to you.

“How…did you know that?” 

“About the wine?” He swallows a sip of bourbon. “Must’ve read it at some point and it just stuck.”

“Seems you’re a good man to have around in a crisis then,” you smile and tip your glass in his direction. He gently touches the side of his against it, before tapping the heavy base against the bar and taking another sip. 

Everything he does is briefly fascinating. 

“I apologize again for these kids,” he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, producing a business card which he slides over to you face-down. “You should be all good with that,” he gestures at the handkerchief, “but I insist on you sending me the dry cleaning bill. If I’ve recalled incorrectly and it does stain, I will procure a replacement for you, you have my word.”

“That’s really not necessary,” you start and yet find yourself unable to stop, “and I’m not even sure it’s possible this is vintage—”

“Alexander McQueen, I know.”

You turn all the way towards him on your barstool now. 

And his eyes glitter with your fascination as he runs his hand through the patch of white at his hairline.

“What are you reading,” he tips his head to the side as if to glimpse the cover of your book but he doesn’t break your gaze. Cheek dimpled with a half smile. 

“Ovid. Metamorphoses.”

“For fun?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice but it’s far from belittling. 

“It’s…” you start before a smile splits your face, “yeah. For fun.”

And he echoes your grin.

“I re-read it for fun last year. I think the passage about Orpheus’ death is my favorite.”

“Fascinating,” you swallow a sip of your tempranillo. “Why that one?” 

“Well, I believe it’s a commentary on both the unbridled rage of passion and a testament to the obstinate nature of true love.”

“Obstinate?” You incline your head incredulously. “That’s quite a choice.”

“And yet it holds true, does it not? Orpheus, arguably one of the most talented figures in Greek mythology,” and he’s gesturing broadly now, “able to enchant the very souls of feral beasts and move trees to bend their limbs just to be nearer his music.”

He jabs his finger into the bartop between you, “he moved Hades, both the realm and the deity himself, let’s not forget, correct?”

And you nod, amusement playing across your features. 

“The earth and the underworld fell at his feet. And he shunned it all out of love for Eurydice.”

“And so what moral value do you place on obstinacy?” You ask.

“Obstinacy in love is the only way to experience it. To feel it so completely that you forsake everything else. Defy the world. For love. Fidelity to the wife that you betrayed by turning back.” Brown eyes are wide with his conviction.

He adds, “even Shakespeare said let it be virtuous to be obstinate.”

“Okay, in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT context!” Your turn to erupt now, with arms thrown in the air where you’re met by his wide smile. “You cannot cherry pick that out of Coriolanus choosing to abandon his family out of sheer stubbornness, and frankly, contempt for his own people, to extol the virtues of love! Let it be virtuous to FORSAKE that love, is the whole point of that line.”

And this is the moment.

That Ezra falls in love.

And you’re not far behind.

Time slips from this point on. Patrons file in and out. More wine and whiskey is poured. Associates drunkenly clap him on the back as they make their way home, but none of it registers.

The world spins around the pair of you.

Until finally the bartender insists that he close his tab. 

And you both step out onto a city street wet with the aftermath of a brief summer downpour. 

“Thank you,” Ezra starts, “for the absolute pleasure of your company.”

He holds a tentative hand out, which you shake with a heartfelt “likewise.”

“Oh, your handkerchief,” you pull it from your pocket and hold it out to him. 

“Keep it.” He smiles. 

And you both spin on your heels. Proceeding in opposite directions.

But the warp and weft of the red cotton square that you keep rubbing between your fingers forces you to stop in your tracks. 

You turn around.

And look back. 

Meeting Ezra’s gaze from where he hasn’t moved a step.

He thumbs the corner of his lips, brown eyes locked on yours.

And you both move. 

Urgent steps pulled by Fates’ string.

Colliding as you throw your arms around his neck and he locks you against him with biceps around your ribs.

Lips crashing together with the relief of a thousand lifetimes. 

Lifetimes that you’ve known each other.

Lifetimes that you’ve lost each other. 

And this lifetime. Having found each other again.

Taglist of folks who may be interested, as always, please do let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged, or if you'd like to be added!

@morallyinept @iamskyereads @tinytinymenace @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot

@oliveksmoked @nerdieforpedro @julesonrecord

Subpart headings are the meaning of Ezra's name in that section.

Orpheus' monologue included herein in italics is quoted from David Raeburn's 2004 translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, published by Penguin Classics. The text of this translation just felt so Ezra that I had to include it in that form. If you'd like to hear it read by Hozier himself, head on over to his instagram circa summer 2020's Poetry Fridays for this and some other wonderful work.

This story references the version of Eurydice's death as precipitated by Aristaeus.

Láir means mare in Irish Gaelic.

"Let it be virtuous to be obstinate" is quoted from Coriolanus by William Shakespeare.

#prospect ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x female reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #hozier drabble challenge #ohforficsake #talk refined

[neesieiumz]

love language ⸻ You remind me I’m imperfect and it sucks to admit it. ⸻ a. ojiro

synopsis ⸺ after six months, you lay eyes on your ex-boyfriend at a mutual friend’s party. 

warnings ⸺ smut. 18+, black-coded reader. female reader. afab anatomy. praise kink, cunnilingus, blow job, some angst, happy ending, time skip aran. use of ocs, but barely even mentioned. he’s very sweet to you no matter what. this is also my haikyuu debut so... I haven't read the haikyuu time skip so this is all referencing his wiki page and how other people write about him.

writer notes ⸺ disclaimer, i'm just starting the haikyuu manga, so please bear with me. I really tried to embody what people say he embodies, so hopefully, I did this fine man justice. (also disclaimer, i hate the reason they broke up but it was the best one i could find and create.)

wc ⸺ 6.2k

The city was alive mostly at night, it was a beautiful thing. Although, that was where you were not at tonight. 

As you walked, your heels clicked through against the cobblestone walkway. Passing by the bright glass stone lights, lighting your way to the one destination. Smiling, although it was a melancholy one. It had been a while since you had gone out like this, wrapping yourself up in work and distracting yourself from any and everything. Most of your friends would call your recent way of life destructive, so you hoped to get them off your back this way. Your dress was black, matching everything else you wore. After all, the event you were going to was an all-black attire. The dress is backless, along with carefully sewn holes on both sides of the dress. In your hands held both your bag and a gift bag as well, containing a very expensive purse and perfume. 

Soon you arrived at the event, a birthday party, a very private one as well. It was held at a country club you used to frequent as well, back during a different part of your life. Two guards stood out front, one holding a tablet. 

“Name?” The one on the left asked you, the moment you stepped up to them.

You gave them your name, and them checking, glancing at your photo that popped up before looking at you. It was very tight security after all. You hold both bags in one hand, before lowering your glasses and revealing your eyes so they can get a good look at you. The two men nodded, stepping out of the way and opening the door to the private club. They both tell you to enjoy your night, which you thanked them for before walking inside. At the reception of the country club, the lady at the desk smiled, before asking you where you were headed. There must have been multiple events being held during this time, you thought to yourself, no matter though.

You told her the name of your close friend, whose birthday it was today. She smiled, before pointing down the hall, telling you which hall is hosting the party. Smiling, thanking her before walking down yourself. You creaked the door open slightly, the sounds of people mingling together getting louder and louder as you did. The tables were mostly gone, making room for the tall tables designed for people to rest their drinks on. The meshing of gold and green, a garden-themed cocktail party. Vines decorated the walls, paired together with shimmering fake flowers. You smiled to yourself, once again, you thought, she goes all out. Towards the back, hanging a beautifully decorated table which deemed itself to be the gift table was a banner adorning her name. Wading through the crowd, smiling and waving at those you knew and excusing yourself past those you did not know. 

Jumping at the sudden attack behind your back, you heard familiar giggling as pink silk-gloved hands wrap themselves around you. The familiar giggling had you smiling even wider, placing your hands on top of her own, and turning your head to make eye contact with her. 

“I thought you weren’t going to make it!!” She whined in your ear, the smell of saccharine alcohol on her tongue. 

Smiling, you turned towards her fully, wrapping your arms around her in a hug, “of course I wasn’t, I couldn't miss your birthday for the world.”

She fully accepted your hug, letting you go but still keeping her arms around you. Immediately her eyes zeroed in on the gift you had in your hands. She squealed, immediately diving in to swipe it away from you, but you moved back with a quick step, laughing as she pouted once again. Your friend became very spoiled once alcohol tasted her tongue.

“I’ll place this on the gift table and you can open them tomorrow when you're much more yourself, okay?”

She pouted again, but nodded her head, telling you to stop by the cocktail table before finding the rest of your friends. You agreed, turning around to continue on your journey to the gift table. Getting the table, you placed your gift along with the rest of the massive and most expensive gifts as well. Once you did, you turned around, eyeing both the assortment of cocktails available already pre-made, along with an open bar making custom selections for those who didn’t like what was available. Walking over to the table, you looked over everything that was in front of you, and it all looked so good. Martinis, margaritas, and all the different assortment of colored drinks. Glancing over everything one more time, you decided on a gradient-like drink, clear on top with yellow settling at the bottom, decorated with ice at the top and a piece of rose vine and a small bud that had yet to grow into a full-fleshed rose. This specific drink came with its own straw. After carefully sipping it, approving of its taste, you cast your eyes to the crowds, looking for wherever your friends were congregating.

Catching sight of your friend’s frilly pink dress, you started to make your way to them, and then froze…

Standing there, over 6 feet tall, wearing a navy blue silk fitted shirt with matching slacks. You couldn't keep your eyes off of him, eyes seeing his familiar layered chains. When he’s not on the court, he’s always wearing them, especially the ones you got him. Your eyes landed on the biggest one of them all, recognizing it as the one you got him on his birthday, in the very shape of the ball he loves the most. When you left to spend it with him with what little time you had. His birthday was always during the volleyball season here, so you never got to do a more special celebration until the off-season. His ears were adorned with gold studs, face, and hair, and freshly cut, you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Aran Ojiro looked good, way too good for you to face him again. 

It was only six months ago that you even broke up with him. 

The season had just begun when you did so as well, which usually lasted about six months as well, but you weren’t expecting to see him so soon after. 

Before you could turn around, fall into the crowd and avoid the man, the birthday girl spotted you once again. She smiled, waving to you to come over, calling you by name. Almost immediately, the rest of your group followed her eyesight, including Aran. 

Damn her, you bitterly thought, forcing yourself to pick up your legs to walk over to the group. You kept your eyes on the birthday girl, forcing yourself to ignore the cryptic countenance Aran took the moment he laid his eyes. You greeted the rest of the group, giving hugs to the ones who came up for them, without spilling your drink. 

“It’s so good to see you, it feels like we haven’t seen you in forever!” Fumiya, who stood next to the birthday girl said. 

“I’ve just been… really busy!” You forced a smile on your face, taking another sip of your drink. 

“Yeah, busy throwing yourself into work and barely giving yourself a fucking break.”

The group knew of your recent break with the man not too far away, but it seemed the flowing alcohol stripped away all inhibitions. You could feel his eyes on your own the moment Fumiya said that, although you did your best to ignore it, as the group delved into further conversation. Before you knew it, your straw was sucking up remnants of water from the melting ice. You excused yourself from the group, deciding to go to the bar for a custom drink. 

Smiling at the bartender, you handed over the empty glass before looking over the cocktail menu, the more complicated it was as you looked further down and down the menu. Everything was covered by your friend’s fiance, who was also a very rich man completely in love with her. You looked over what was available, before deciding on a platinum passion, a very expensive drink, something you would never order on a day-to-day basis. As you waited, you could hear footsteps walking about behind you, mostly ignoring them until someone came up right beside you. 

“What would you like to order, sir?” You heard the bartender ask whoever was beside you. 

“Uh, lemme get a Moscow mule.”

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice beside you, but this time you couldn't help but glance to your right, seeing the same man you had been avoiding at all cost right beside you. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, and quickly you looked away, your manicured nails tapping against the open bar. 

“It’s been a while, huh?” You heard him say, knowing his words for you.

You took a deep quick breath, before deciding to speak, “yeah… yeah, it has.”

It went quiet all over again, the awkwardness settling in and suffocating the two of you. Soon the bartender that took your order came over with a tall glass filled with fizzling purple drink, topped with a beautiful orchid and a black straw to tie it all together. You took a sip of it, the taste of passion fruit and expensive champagne, with some sweet apricots mixed in, you could hardly taste the alcohol in the drink. Despite everything telling you not to, you couldn't help yourself, turning towards him. He was leaning against the bar, sipping away at his glass of vodka and ginger beer. Crossing your legs as you glanced over his form once more. You took another sip, watching him as he finished his drink with no stopping, handing his glass right back to the person at the bar. He ordered another one, and as he did, took the opportunity to get closer to you.

“How’s work been for you?” He asked, showing off his soft, sweet smile. 

“It’s been really good for me, I recently closed on a house and am currently setting up some open houses as well.” You said, smiling at the recent positive prospects at your job as a realtor. 

His smile got even bigger at that, which had you smiling even harder.

“How… How is the season this year? I didn’t really keep up with it as much as I wanted.” You said, looking away from him.

The two of you knew what that meant, but the two of you didn’t want to mention it, at least not right now. Nodding his head, he turned his head towards the bartender who gave him his drink. 

“The season was good, really good. I’m just… glad to be home for the time being until training.”

You nodded your head once again at that, “I’m glad... That you had a good season of course.”

As you took a sip of your drink and Aran did at the same time, you couldn’t help but wonder, how different the two of you would be if you hadn’t made the decision you did. Six months ago may not feel like a lot, but if you had asked yourself just fifteen minutes ago before you even laid eyes on him once again, you would have said you were over him. However, you’re here, staring your ex-boyfriend once again in the eyes, and realizing, how much you really missed him. 

Your stomach took on a sudden, heavy feeling of realization as you stood up straight, slightly startling the very same man your mind was in turbulence over. You forced a smile on your face.

“itwasreallynicetoseeyouAranbutihavetogo,” you mumbled down, placing your unfinished drink on the bar before racing past him as fast as you can without drawing much attention to yourself. 

You could hear him call out your name, but you ignored it, opting to open the doors leading to the endarkened hallway of the country club, into sudden cold air. Crossing your arms, rubbing your hands over your upper to provide some kind of warmth. You wanted to grab your phone, to call yourself an Uber or Lyft, whichever would get here fast when you eyed landed on your empty elbow which was supposed to hold your bag. You blinked once, once again, before relaxing you must have left it at the open bar, where you left Aran all high and dry from the… could you even call that a conversation?

Suddenly the door flew open right behind you, showing Aran, eyes wide open and holding two things in his hands. Your very bag that you were just worrying over, and the drink that you had left behind. Immidalet he spotted, his anxious form relaxing as he approached you. 

“You left this behind,” he said quietly, holding them out to you. 

As quiet as he was, you thanked him, taking the things from his hands. As you were about to walk away, Aran’s voice stopped you right in your tracks. 

“Did… did I make a mistake?”

His voice echoed through the hall, louder than he probably meant for it but it hits you nonetheless. Slowly you turned around, taking a deep breath and shaking your head at him. 

“No, it was… it was me, you were… perfect.”

He shook his head, taking even more steps towards you. You tried to step away but he just got closer, “I’m not accepting that, there has to be a reason why you would break up with me with no reason, no reason at all.”

You shook your head once again, “I’m not lying Aran.” You could say this a million times, the look on his face revealed that he wasn’t taking your answer. 

He took another step towards you, and you took another step back. Over again, you did this song and dance until your back hit the wall. You dropped your bag, while he took the drink back, placing it on the ground before standing back up. His tall form towered over you, arm resting above your head as he looked down at you. You could only give him one glance before looking away from him, your mesh-gloved hands trying to push him away from you. Heart pounding with your ears, body beginning to throb all over. Insanity on how he still had such an effect on you. 

A hand came under your chin, moving your face, “look at me,” his low voice mumbled, but it was loud and clear. 

You listened before anything could tell you to stop, looking up at his deep, dark brown eyes, shining with a multitude of emotions. 

“Aran…” you whispered, and that was the last thing you said before feeling lips on your own. 

Taking in a breath of surprise, you could help yourself, falling under his spell, returning the kiss with just as much vigor. The arm that was above you left its position, hand now resting softly on your cheek as his other hand came about your waist, his palms touching the open skin on the dress. Your own hands trailed up from his stomach, the feeling of his abs so familiar under you yet everything you've been craving for a long time. Hands now resting on the sides of his neck, you pulled him as close as you could. 

Slowly, you pulled away from the kiss, the two of you breathing heavily as you did. Suddenly you could feel his rough hands swipe something away on your face… liquid… oh, you’re crying. Sniffing, you tried to wipe away the rest of them but he wasn’t having that, taking both of your hands in one of his before whipping the rest of your tears with his other. Soon after, he took your bag off the ground, along with a drink. With nothing but a motion, he told you to finish up the drink. Nodding your head, you took the drink, tears still silently streaking down your face, as you sip down the rest. He took his phone and keys out of his pockets, before taking your free hand and guiding you out of the country club. You had finished the drink as you reached the receptionist's desk, which was now empty. Aran took the empty glass filled with ice, and placed it on the desk, leaving a small note before taking your hand and taking you right outside. 

It was quiet between the two of you as you walked outside into the cold. Almost immediately, you shivered, and Aran stopped in his tracks. He turned around, facing you, before shifting off his jacket. You tried to refuse the jacket, but he was having absolutely none of that, draping it across your shoulders before taking your hand and leading you right to his car. He unlocked the car, and opened the passenger side, gesturing for you to get inside, which you did. 

Making yourself comfortable within the familiar car, buckling in your seatbelt, as Aran jogged around, opening his own door before sliding inside the car. With a quick press of a button, sliding on his own seatbelt before pulling out of his parking space. With so much to say, and no clear way to say it, the car ride was silent as he drove the two of you to your– his apartment, or his loft, you would put it. As he suddenly turned a sharp left, his broad hand suddenly grabbed at your thigh, keeping you both in place as he turned. It was such a simple gesture but everything about it had your heart racing just like the event hall

Arriving at the parking deck, Aran pulled in, parked, and got out of the car. You knew better than to move, Aran jogging right back over to open your door. Holding his hand, you thanked him, watching him close the door behind you before locking the car. He handed you your bag and you held it as he held a tight grip on your hand, guiding you to the exit into the building. He knew you knew where to go, yet diced on keeping a tight grip on you, the two of you entering a dimmed hallway before heading down the hall to the left. Going down the familiar twists and turns of the loft building, the two of you arrived right in front of his door. Quickly, he unlocked the door, before taking you inside his place. Aran turned on the lights as you entered inside. Eyeing everything, it was just as you left it six months ago. 

Kicking off your heels, you placed them by the door as Aran went to the kitchen, telling you to take a seat on the couch. Despite everything within you, you listened, snuggling within his formal jacket, smelling of frosted apples, whiskey, and white oak. You waited for a few moments, before hearing movement and seeing him walk over to you with a glass hand, filled with water. He sat right next to you, slowly handing over the glass to you. You thanked him, taking a few sips of the water, the coolness relieving pressure building you didn’t know was building within you. Once you had enough, you placed the glass on the glass coffee table in front of you, before feeling your hands grab your own. He turned you towards, holding them close to his, placing a slight kiss on the mesh gloves. You relished in the feeling of his soft lips, the thin material allowing you to do so. Aran soon moved one of his hands around your waist, basically scooping you up and placing you right on his lap. 

“Talk to me, you know how these things go,” he murmured, “we didn't have a chance to because you broke things off right before I left and wouldn’t answer my calls or texts.”

You sighed, leaning into his hold, his arms locking you right into his lap. 

“You said it wasn’t something I did… was it something you did and you simply didn't want to tell me?”

“Did you stop loving me?”

You shook your head as well, denying that qualm as well. 

“Well then, if it’s not any of those, and you say it wasn’t something I did… what prompted you to do so, then?”

You took a deep breath, thumb aimlessly stroking across his fingers, “it wasn't something you did. More like, I made a decision that I thought was best for both of us.”

Confusion overtook his face as you shifted your body, straddling his lap so you could face him fully. You ignored the throbbing within yourself, shifting yourself up to get as close to him as you could. 

“You’ve always been a person of passion, it’s been your life since before I met you. I just… I just like I couldn’t keep up with you sometimes. You would want to do all these things when your home and I… couldn’t keep up.”

“We were on two different wavelengths to me, and I didn’t know how else to fix it.”

You could both feel and hear Aran take in a deep breath before sighing it out, all while his hands made mindless circles into the parts of your skin that were exposed. 

“So it was something I did,” he mumbled in your ear. 

You immediately shook your head, but he shushed, laying his head right on top of your shoulders. You moved your arms up, resting your hand straight on the back of his head, holding him to you. 

“I should have been more sensitive to what you were feeling,” he said, placing a kiss on top of your shoulder. 

You shook your head, “maybe I should have just told you what I was feeling, I was… scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

You couldn't help but shrug your shoulders, “I… psyched myself into believing you wouldn't understand what I was feeling.”

“Now you know the last thing I would do is judge you, angel.”

You couldn't help but smile at the nickname, it’s been a while since you'd heard, it was your favorite one out of everything he’s ever called you. Aran continued to place kisses on top of your shoulders, moving closer and closer to your neck, His heated breath caused you to shiver within his hold, and your hands tightened around the back of his neck. You could feel your dress rising up with every movement you made, your body aching for him after so long. His movements went from your shoulder to your neck, laying careful but electrifying kisses all along it. 

Gasping his name, you curled into him, his hands soon sliding from your hips to your ass. He gripped at it tightly, and before you knew it, he got up with you still in his arms. You squealed, holding on to him tightly as he made a few steps before heading up his black cherry-wood stairs, heading up to his own bedroom on the second floor. The moment he arrived at the top, he took a few uck steps to the left before launching you right onto the bed, landing on the soft material. You scooted back a bit, resting again on your arms and the pillows as Aran began to unbutton his shirt a bit. The dark shirt slowly revealed his very well-fitted form, from years of volleyball. He threw his shirt to the side, before getting on the bed, climbing right on top of you. 

“I fucking missed you,” he mumbled into your skin, his hands dipping down under your rising dress. 

Breathless as he pressed his fingers against your panties, taking in the wetness staining them. He left a few kisses along your cheek before capturing another kiss, pressing himself as he did. You held his face in your hands as he kissed you, deeply, as if you were going to disappear right in front of him. The dress straps were slipping with every movement he made against you, the dress falling off all the same. He pushed himself in between your legs, allowing you to wrap them around his waist as well. His thick fingers slipped past your panties, two of them easing themselves deep inside you. Gasping within the kiss, unconsciously squeezing around them. Aran said nothing as he teases you, taking his thumb to rub slow yet deep circles in your clit, moving his fingers just as slowly. 

Slowly, he let go of the kiss, keeping his lips right next to your ear as his hollow deep voice whispered into it. He took in your squirms, your pleas for him to go faster, knowing this pace couldn’t do anything for you. 

“Relax for me,” his voice was soft but stern. 

You tried your best to listen to him, but your body still slightly trembled in anguish, wanting him to do more and more to you. Slowly he began to speed up, sating the building desire and frustration within you. Your legs had spread wider and wider, allowing him to hit deeper and deeper. At this point your dress had fallen off your dress, scrunching up and pooling around your waist. Dripping all over his fingers, your body quivered and shook, jerking as you cried out. 

You hear his voice speak up again, “you gonna come for me?”

Rapidly shaking your head, no words come to your head as your mind begins filling with brown noise. You could feel his body pressing against you, keeping the same rapid pace, with no sense of stopping. Squeezing around him, your hands came up around his upper arms, squeezing them so tight, your sharp nails dug dents into his skin. He paid it no mind, entrancing by the spaced-out look on your face. 

“Don’t hold back, angel.”

Eyes closing shut, your body convulsed, a loud gasp-like moan coming out through the room, arousal gushing out of all over your thighs and his fingers. You melted back into his hold and bed, mind floating and filled with noise. Slowly he pulled his fingers out, not being able to see him taking the two before lapping your juices up. Sono you felt hands right at your waist, pulling off the rest of the dress, along with your panties. Once the clothes were gone, you could feel those same hands pull right down towards him, matching up eye to eye with him. Aran placed one hand on your face, keeping the other one at your waist. He lowered his face down to you, whispering in your ear, 

“You okay angel?”

You nodded your head, and slowly brought up your arms to his face, holding his face in your hands. He accepted your soft kiss, his thumb rubbing affectionately against your cheek. Using your arm, you prop yourself up, pushing back against him as he rises up a bit. His hands went back down around your waist, before flipping the two of you with ease, you laying right on top of him. You swung your legs over his body as you let go of the kiss, straddling his lap. You reached down, unclasping his pants button before slowly pulling down the zipper. Slowly you stripped his pants away, revealing plain black boxers. You pushed his pants as far down as they could, Aran kicking off the rest of his legs and the bed. Your hands went on his boxers next, slowly peeling them back. Before you could even peel them down a quarter of the way, his thick cock sprung out, slapping against his abdomen. You peeled them down the rest of the way, scooting back a bit, leaning down with soft, wet kisses against his stomach, leading down to the tip. He let out small, soft gasps with every kiss you left. 

You relished every sound he made, tongue swirling and teasing him, knowingly teasing him just as he did you. Having had enough of your antics, Aran’s hands gripped at your shortened locs, no longer in the high ponytail you had for the part. You slowed him to slowly guide your head down his length, your hands wrapping around the rest of the length you couldn’t swallow. The moment his cock hit the back of your throat, he groaned, head thrown back. Bobbing your head up and down, droll dripping down onto his length. The sounds of his pleasure only fueled your actions further, your hand coming around to your lips couldn't reach. 

“So good, so fucking good for me,” he let out, using his hands to help guide down his cock. 

You moaned around him, causing him to jerk within your hold, heaving in and out. Just as quickly he had your entire being under his spell, you couldn't deny how much you released in the sounds Aran made for you. 

How could I ever part with him in the first place? You couldn't help but think to yourself, feeling his grip against your hair tighten, as if was beginning to brace himself. This didn't stop your movements and continued to swallow him down. He wants you as much as he could get out of his mouth, before the taste of slightly sour yet basic flooding your mouth. You swallowed all his cum, not letting up even after Aran let go of your hair. Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head off of his cock, placing wet kisses all along it. His hands suddenly grabbed your hips, dragging you right up to him. You hovered right over him, smiling as you looked down at his face. As you went down for another kiss, you could feel his own hands guiding your hips further down. 

Gasing, gripping his hands in sharp pain as he began to slowly sink his cock inside you. You begged for him to go slowly, hearing him whisper in your ear. 

“Breath through your nose, angel, I’ll go as slow as you need me to do.”

You nodded your head hanging onto every word that fell from his lips. It had been so long, and the fact he was so big was an even bigger contributing factor. Overwhelmed, your head dropped down to his chest as his hands moved from your hips to underneath your butt. Restricted in his movements, his grip on you was tight as he slowly lifted your body up and down. Your body lay against his, trying your best to relax as he slowly fucked you, allowing your body to get used to him once again. Aran whispered in your ears, guiding you through everything. Soon your painful gasps became filled with passion, your tight grip on his shoulders loosening up. Your own hips began to grind down. 

“Better?” he whispered, feeling your own hips begin to move against him. 

You let out a moan in affirmation, nodding against his chest before feeling him thrust up once. His pace began to quicken, beginning to repeatedly plunge into you. His every movement overwhelmed you, curling into the pleasure. Your hands roamed his chest, nails slightly digging into them as he ravished you through and through. The sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin, the gush of your arousal soaking the both of you, dripping onto the bed. Suddenly, he lifted you up, rising above the bed. Quickly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and neck, holding on tight as he stood up, slamming your back against the wall. Head threw back in pleasure as he parted your legs widener, his grip on your thighs so strong he could leave bruises. 

Aran nuzzled against your neck, his hot heavy breath breathing shivers down your body. He nipped away at your neck, taking in every sound you made under him. 

“Soso good,” your words were slurring together, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“You’re taking me so well, angel, fuck I could fuck you all night,” he groaned into your ear, biting at it slightly at the end. 

Your body and voice cried out at that, expletives falling from your lips. He was hitting so deep, he could almost bruise your cervix with the pace he was going. You couldn’t complain, you had never felt more within a single moment. The number of marks you left on his body would definitely be noticeable tomorrow, but you couldn't care less about that. He continued leaving kisses along your neck, sucking and biting against the skin as well. Tension was inciting, building within you, your cunt throbbing and squeezing tighter and tighter around him. 

“I’m gonna, fuck I’m gonna⸺” you could barely finish your warning before the dam broke, cum gushing out of you, making a bigger mess than before.

“Oooh fuck,” your body shook and shuddered, letting out a loud moan as you came all over him, squirting all over you. 

Aran didn’t stop his movements for a second, fucking you through your prolonged orgasm. Your body twitches within his hold, incoherent words slurring together from your mouth. Just as quickly as he moved you from the bed, he pulled out for a moment, carrying you right back to the bed before sliding right back into you, your legs stretched to their maximum. You screamed, hands reaching for something ground as you could feel his fat tip press right against your cervix, 

“Too deep,” you squealed, overly sensitive from the orgasm you just had. 

He said nothing, his slams into you starting to become more erratic, his mind getting just as spaced out as your own. His body hovered over you, slamming into you with everything breath he had in him, face furrowed in concentration. You could do nothing but take the force of his pummels, mind floating and body tingling from everything around you. His sweat dripped down from his face, his chains falling in front of you, dangling above your face. 

With a sudden groan, “fuck⸺”, he slammed into you aimlessly a few more times, before going, his body laying right on top of you as he groaned into your neck. 

You could feel him filling you up, gasping as you did. In the back of your mind, you were thankful you were still on birth control. His body was sticky with sweat, sticking on top of yours as the two of you just lay there. He turned his head, moving it right back to your face, before laying soft and sweet kisses all over your face and cheek, completely different from the man who had just ravaged and relished in your every being. 

Slowly, he pulled out, the two of you hissing from the sensitivity as he did. You could barely move off the bed, only hearing his movements as he walked away from the bed. You could only sit with your thoughts, they began to run rough, wondering if he had suddenly regretted that before hearing his footsteps approach the bed. Suddenly, you felt something cold and wet along your inner thighs, pressing carefully into the sore places his grip got a little too tight. You smiled, this was familiar, reminiscing on the days past. Hissing at the sudden switch in sensations, but relaxing as the cold wet rag made your inner thighs better. Aran continued to wipe away the mess on your body, along with carefully pressing the rag against your pussy to allow for it to receive some relief. It helps you regain some of your strength, being able to watch him walk away into the bathroom to clean himself up. He kept the door open, allowing you to gaze and look at him as he did, watching the cold water drip down his body as well. 

He felt your eyes on him, turned around, and saw you keeping your eyes on every part of his body. Aran only smirked, turning away from you. 

“You better stop looking at me before I want a round two,” is all he said, turning on the sink and ringing out the rag. 

Your boisterous laugh echoed through the loft, flipping around in the sheets, which were still slightly wet. You heard the sink turn off, before seeing Aran walk over with a blanket and a silk wrapping in hand. Together the two of you laid the blanket down on the bed, before grabbing the thick, black comforter and wrapping yourselves in it, exhaustion hitting your body like freight trains. Aran took the silk wrapping, helping you place your hair into it before falling into the blankets.

Yawning, you could feel his strong arms wrap themselves sound you, pulling you into him. You turned around, snuggling into his physique, hands coming up right under your head to get more comfortable under him. You felt him place a kiss on 

You know you’re still in due for a long conversation concerning your insecurities within your relationship. How this situation even came to be was all about you getting into your head, along with other outside forces that you would rather not talk about. However, there was one thing you could come to a conclusion about when it comes to Aran Ojiro, you could never fully part with him. Even if your paths diverge at the end.

taglist: @orchiddreamz @shamelesshoefairy

#aran ojiro x reader #ojiro aran #aran ojiro #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x black reader #aran ojiro smut #aran ojiro x black reader #haikyu x you #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x poc!reader #ojiro aran x reader #haikyū!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #black reader #anime x black!reader #haikyu x black reader #aran x black reader

[houndofsevenhells]

“Of Septons and Hounds” (Sandor Clegane x Original Female Character)

SUMMARY — A recently widowed impoverished spinster, who now finds herself at the Lannisters’ mercy, develops a strange relationship with the fearsome Hound. As the ten year long summer comes to an end, she tries to fight for the man she really wants, while dodging her good-brother's schemes to see her wed yet another elderly lord.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is my first ever work in this fandom, I hope I did my favourite fearsome Hound justice. English is not my first language so if you spot any mistakes that is my fault alone. Oh, and there’s also smut.

WORD COUNT — 3,391

Masterlist

The ten year long summer was coming to an end. I could feel it in my bones. Casterly Rock still stood tall and strong, as I suspected it would for another eight thousand years, but everything else around me was changing.

I was savouring a rare moment of peace and hid from the world in the alcove of the rose gardens. The round-petalled, sunset-coloured variety that grew here were my favourite, though of course the crimson ones planted at the very centre were the most magnificent. My good-brother Ser Damion once told me they were the pride and joy of Lady Joanna, and knowing his cousin Tywin I could certainly see why the gardeners worked so hard to keep these blooming all summer long.

As the recently widowed impoverished spinster, who now found herself at the Lannisters’ mercy, I hid in these gardens quite often–mostly to escape my good-brother’s schemes. One should hope his duties as the castellan of the Rock would have kept him busier…

I breathed deeply and felt my head swimming from the sweet scent of the roses. Somehow I knew the crimson ones smelled stronger as of late. I was sure they spoke of impending autumn winds. They had developed a startling, imposing scent that permeated almost the entirety of the gardens and it almost seemed like the flowers wanted to shine just one last time before they would inevitably wilt. Like the one last feast one would throw just before the first snowstorms.

“Well, then.” Suddenly, strong hands grasped my shoulders and I shot up from the bench I was resting on.

I was met with the half-burned face of Sandor Clegane; his ruined lips twisted in a mockery of a smile and his imposing frame blocking the sun from my view completely. 

“Oh. It’s you.” I was clearly relieved.

No less confused than before, Sandor took a step closer.

“Who did you think it was?” he asked. His voice was broken glass, crunching under infantry iron boots. 

“My brother,” I confessed easily. “He is getting fatter on his castellan purse, but is almost as tall as you, Ser Clegane.”

Immediately, Sandor snarled at the title, his grey eyes full of hate. But I stood there proudly, daring him to scold a high-born lady in public. I was riling him up and he knew it, but he let me all the same. 

“Come.” His command was short; an order a captain of the guard would throw at a fellow soldier.

“Is that any way to talk to a lady, Clegane?”

He said nothing to that, just sent me another angry look over his shoulder and then kept walking. I stifled a laugh.

Unlike all those other guards prancing around the Rock in their gold shiny armours, Sandor’s black ring mail and boiled leather seemed to be quelling the sunshine around him.

Unable to help myself, I followed him inside the castle.

His long legs carried him quite a distance further and soon enough I found myself trotting behind him like an ungraceful pony.

“Is that any way for a lady to walk?” he grumbled, though there was mirth in those angry eyes and I grinned as soon as I saw it.

“Is that a jape I hear, Clegane? By the gods, it–” But the rest of that remark died in my throat as he pulled me into a dark corridor that ended with a spiral staircase. He went down and again, I followed.

“Where are we?” I inquired.

“Underneath the barracks.” His rasping voice drifted up to me. Once more, he was leading.

“Lovely,” I sighed and then simply kept following.

At the end of the staircase, there was an old door with an even older-looking lock, to which Sandor for some inexplicable reason produced a rust-covered key. He unlocked the door and it soon became apparent he must have been the first one to do it in quite a while. It took a formidable power to open it at all. I looked at how his muscles bulged under the dark sleeves of his tunic and against my better judgement I did not stop looking until he caught me in the act. 

Without any niceties, Sandor took my hand and led me through the narrow passage, then firmly shut the door behind us; the rusty hinges straining under the task.

“I do appreciate the effort, Clegane, but if I should have to perish, I’d rather not do it under some aimless old stone that decides to drop on my head with–”

“You talk too much, woman.”

He grabbed me and soon my back was pressed against the cold stone wall. I did not necessarily mind. This was what I came there for; it was what I wanted and what Sandor kept giving me for the past year and a half.

I reached out blindly and when my hands found his face I pulled him closer for a kiss. He wouldn’t reciprocate at first, this much I knew, because such was our game. He would let me sense his humours and somehow through a simple touch and kiss I would read him like a book. I realised he would need it rough today and my body shivered with anticipation. I deepened the kiss and finally Sandor moved closer and started to unlace his breeches.

There was scarcely any light source in the old dungeon and I could barely see a thing. Regretful, giving my particular weakness for the sight of the man. Because Sandor was everything I could ever want from a man, even though he would never let me say it out loud. 

But the noose around my neck was tightening. With the summer ending and Her Grace slowly packing to move back to King’s Landing with the children, I knew the proper mourning period after my late husband’s passing was over. As I had no remaining male relatives, Ser Damion Lannister was in charge of any dowry my puny cousin Crakehall branch could offer. Soon, the evil beast that married my sister would force me to wed once more–undoubtedly to another evil beast of his choosing.

“You are shaking, my lady.” The familiar raspy voice brought me back. I sighed because I enjoyed him calling me a lady quite as much as he liked to be called “ser”.

“It’s cold in here.”

“Aye.” He reached under my skirts and I gasped once he pulled down my smallclothes. “So let me make you warmer.”

Another sigh turned into a moan when he put two fingers inside me and curled them. He was not being rough to be cruel, but because he knew I could not stand a slow and tedious prelude.

“So wet,” he rasped into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Were you thinking of me all day?”

I could not smell the wine on him this time and I enjoyed the thought that he wanted to experience me sober. I always liked it better when he was not drinking and I thought the incentive for him was that our time together would last longer.

“Actually no, I–” I exhaled and let out a surprised chuckle as he grabbed my thigh firmly to lift up my leg. I rested it against his hip and he added another finger inside me–this time more smoothly.

“Cease your prattling, woman,” he grunted. “Does the dark frighten you so much? Or the creature you find yourself in the dark with?”

I let out another moan as his teeth nibbled at my neck. 

The sensations were overwhelming. The stone wall was cold against my back, and the dank dungeon was not something I would call remotely romantic–it smelled of damp earth and rot, and to be truthful after a day of training in the yard, Sandor smelled no better.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see him sneering at me.

“Where in the seven hells are you?” He leaned in closer and as he replaced his fingers with his cock, I steadied myself by clutching his arms. “Because you sure ain’t here with me.”

“I am… thinking,” I whispered and it gave him a pretence to claim another kiss from my lips. 

He knew me too well; such was the consequence of two souls connecting the way we have been doing. At first our dalliance was just a mutual understanding–but now it expanded and grew like a root, and despite our better judgement, we started to get to know one another.

“Stop thinking so much, woman,” he grumbled, his voice surely hoarse from yelling at incompetent recruits through all of the morrow. “Look at me. Look at me.”

I finally looked up and saw the faint outline of his face. His eyes no longer resentful, now they glinted with lust. I smiled as I understood the object of that lust was me. 

“Go on then,” I mustered my best commanding tone and moaned as he squeezed my thigh harder in return.

The rough wall behind me, the strong arms I was clutching and Sandor’s hardness inside me all brought me back from whatever hell my mind had wandered to and I set my heart on the now. That is why we worked so well, I supposed. His roughness and my need for it paired together beautifully.

We were both close, I could feel it. Sandor let out a groan and I made myself tighten around him in response. I wished the moment could last longer, but I knew deep down all things that exist in darkness and privacy must one day come out to light.

I reached my peak first and nearly cried out–but Sandor was faster. He captured my lips in another harsh kiss, spilling inside me. I felt how his body tensed, pressed up against me. Still seeing stars, I let him release my leg back down, though I appreciated him still holding me close. I swore under my breath at how unsteady I felt and I heard Sandor chuckle. An oddly comforting thing, that disembodied rough chuckle in the dark. 

I pulled up my smallclothes and straightened my skirts, wincing at the mess that spilled from me. I did not care if his seed quickened, though. Thankfully I was no longer a maiden and knew my sums better than I used to. My monthly blood was still far away and I had more time to take precautions.

My release did make everything better, but I still was not finished with my game of teasing the bull.

“When was the last time you took a bath, Sandor?”

I could not really see it, but I knew his brows were tightly pinched together.

“Last week, I think. Why? Does this dog’s stink offend your ladyship?”

“No,” I chuckle. “Have no fear. I know who you are and I still enjoy your company.”

That, I gathered, stunned him more than a blow to the head could. I heard his clothes rustle. He was putting himself back in order, too.

“The smell of blood and sweat,” he grunted. “Some twisted tastes you have, woman.”

I put my hands in front of me and grabbed at his tunic to pull him closer. This time, he obeyed. I pressed myself against him and I could feel his breath quickening.

“Some twisted tastes, indeed,” I hummed and moved to rest my cheek against his chest. “But I wish we could go somewhere else. Somewhere far away from Casterly Rock.”

Somewhere far away from my sister’s husband, is what I truly wished to say and Sandor knew it well. I could feel him stirring uncomfortably, undoubtedly unsure what to say to that. I knew then that I let myself say too much.

“Well, we’ve got that. The two of us here, nice and private, as the lady commands.”

“Very amusing.”

“I do try.”

His hands moved from my backside then and I felt his fingers in my hair. True to the word he had once given, he was doing his best not to make too much of a mess of my braid. But I knew he liked my hair. He remarked on it often.

We were quiet then, just the two of us in that small dungeon under the barracks of Castle Casterly, and it was as close to peaceful as I have ever felt. I knew I was trying to hold on to this moment just a little bit longer, to somehow keep it from ending. 

To my surprise, it was Sandor that broke our silence this time:

“I do not want to let you go yet.”

I knew what it meant, for him to speak his mind like that. I was fast to answer so as not to keep him in suspension:

“Nor I you.”

I wanted to say more; to say I wished he were mine and mine alone. But that would be foolish. I knew it could never be. I started to trace soothing circles on his back instead; something I knew he enjoyed very much.

After a moment, he spoke again, though his voice was less hoarse now:

“And if I said… I am yours as you are mine?”

The pang of emotion in my chest was as pleasant as it was scary.

“I would say that is all I want.” I placed my palm against his scarred cheek and felt him lean into the touch. “I want you,” I assure him. “I do not wish to be away from you. I do not wish to be married to a lord or a hedge knight or the first drunk who wins against Damion at cards. I want…”

But then the moment faded away and Sandor brought us back to reality:

“What we want doesn’t matter.”

We have been here before, I realised. This was not the first time when both of us wanted the same, but neither believed we could truly take it.

“You know I am no knight. No lord. I’m just their creature, I’m the Hound.”

“Do not say that.”

“But that’s the truth,” he replied, his voice harsh and grating like knives on stone. “I have killed more men than I could even remember. I’m scarred and ugly and hard to look at. You would not be getting a man, you would be getting a beast.”

I knew what he was doing, what he was trying to do. But this time, somehow, I did not want to cower before my better judgement. Winter was coming and I was growing tired.

“Well, fortunately I am good with wild creatures,” I declared in my best lady-like tone. “If I could make your Stranger eat my apple offerings, I am certain you are no more work than that.”

He went silent and even in the dim lighting of the dungeon I could see the conflict in his face.

“Never had a woman like you, with manners and all. I was never meant for any court. If we give in, you’d be wed to a brute.”

I exhaled and decided then that if after a decade the seasons were changing, I deserved a change as well. I have decided then to break the spell of misfortune with a jape and took a step closer to sniff at his neck.

“Well, as your lady wife I could at least make you bathe more often. If that is not a credit to my taming skills, I do not know what would be.”

He laughed at that and even though his laughter would always be short-lived, I still took that as a victory.

“Fuck the court then, eh?” he said and gently held my face in his rough, calloused hands. 

“Fuck the court,” I said sternly, and I knew my swearing always took him by surprise, “and fuck their dances, and fuck their hedge knights. May they all dance themselves off the cliffs of Casterly Rock! And may Ser Damion die of a bloody flux. I hope it is painful.”

“Aye,” Sandor chuckled again and kissed the top of my head. “It is. But do not let them hear you cast your spells. I will do much, but I will not save you from a burning pyre.”

It would not matter if they burned me to ash tomorrow for true. Today I finally had hope.

“I want to be your wife,” I declared. “I want them all to know who protects me. I know you will protect me. They are all afraid of you and–”

“Look at me,” he ordered and I did so at once. “You say this… And you say this knowing what I am? Knowing why they are all afraid?”

“I do not care,” I replied, now close to tears from thinking he would not agree after all. “My good-brother is in charge of my money and in charge of me. I have nothing of my own, no reputation, no lands or keep. Truth be told, you are marrying down, Sandor.”

He laughed at that and I cherished the sound. I adored making the mask fall.

“You are taking advantage of me, woman, is that it?” he rasped, though now his voice lacked all that anger. He seemed almost happy.

“Yes, Sandor Clegane,” I grinned. “I have cast my spells and ensnared you in my power. All of our combined riches of one dragon and two stags shall get us as far as… The Trident, most likely. After that we shall both be whores, but we shall be very happy, indeed.”

“Careful, woman,” he snarled, though his eyes showed no anger.

“Pardon me, my lord.” I gave him my best curtsy.

That earned me a hard squeeze of my backside, but I had no regrets.

“Do you have no fears, then?” he rasped, his hand playing with my hair again. “None at all?”

“Well, I do not particularly care for spiders…”

“By the gods, woman! About me, I meant.”

“Then, no.” My grin grew wider. “You are many things, but you are not a monster, Sandor. I know I can believe your words if you say you would not hurt me.”

“Never.” He rushed to answer this and his hands immediately tightened around my waist. “But I will hurt anyone around you if I need to keep you safe. I will keep you safe, the rest of them can fucking burn.”

“Then I shall dance on the ashes,” I japed again, though my heart threatened to burst out of my chest from happiness. “Come then. Let us find some drunk Septon, I hear your Lord Tyrion knows a few.”

Sandor chuckled and took me by the hand to lead us out of the dungeon.

“He is your cousin.”

“Only by marriage. Remember, I am a Crakehall. Wild boars and lions are not exactly friendly.”

“And hounds are? You are mad.”

“You better wed me fast, then. Such a grand prospect shall not wait forever. But after that, I never want to see or hear the name ‘Lannister’ ever again. ”

We stopped on our way up the stairs and to my astonishment Sandor kissed me right then and there. He looked me in the eye, solemn as always, no doubt waiting for me to change my mind. But I would not. Not when he had shown me what happiness tasted like.

“What is it?” I asked. 

“This may be the most foolish thing I have ever done,” he grumbled. “And that’s saying something.”

I took his hands in mine and shook my head, smiling in a way I hoped was encouraging and not entirely deranged from joy. 

“I am the unreasonable one, Sandor. You shall be my reasonable husband that tames my wicked nature, remember?”

“Am I now?” He smirked. “So you do take me for a husband? I ain’t even civilised enough to know the… vows.”

“Neither does the Septon, if we get one drunk enough to agree to wed us.”

“Nothing will change your mind, then?”

“Nothing shall save you now from this predicament. The hounds are out, the boars are slain, the… I do seem to have run out of house sigils for my japes, but you do know my meaning, I hope?”

“Aye,” he said and this time he seemed to have believed me. “That I do, woman. Now, let us get you that Septon so that I can bed you long and proper.”

#Sandor Clegane fic #Sandor Clegane x reader #Sandor Clegane fics #Sandor Clegane fanfic #asoiaf fanfic #Sandor Clegane x ofc #Sandor Clegane x original characters #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fic #sandor clegane fanfiction

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia - Chapter 2: A Mere Lady (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 2: A Mere Lady

Daemon has returned to King’s Landing. Yet it is not in his nature to sit idle.

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | 

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: That extreme slow burn once more lmao, Daemon being an idiot, Westerosi sexism, mention of violence, Daemon and Y/N bickering like children again

Word Count: 2.9k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: Thank you for all the support for the first chapter of Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia! It really warms my heart to see all your reblogs and likes 💗 this chapter is a bit of a filler one, but something big will happen next chapter (can you guess what it is? 👀) I hope you enjoy reading!

wonderful dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics​  !  

The shadows darkened and the bustle of noise in the Red Keep slowly faded into a faint hum as night enveloped the castle. I had just finished drawing up and helping Aemma into a bath when a maid announced the presence of King Viserys. I hurriedly rose from where I was preparing the Queen’s nightclothes and curtsied. “Your Grace.” Viserys merely waved away my greeting, putting a hand on my shoulder. “At ease, Y/N. We are not in the presence of other courtiers, you need not refer to me by my title.” I smiled fondly at Viserys. “Well, if my king commands it. Are you here to see Aemma? She is in the midst of her nightly soak” Viserys’ brows furrowed, “Of course. How has she been? Are the baths of any help?”

“Aemma says it is effective to a degree, but the moment she steps out of the bath, the aches return.” Viserys hummed in acknowledgement; “Looks like our son is taking quite the toll on my beloved. He must be an active lad.” My smile widened at that: Viserys’ pride in his unborn son was clearly strong. But my smile dropped when I heard Viserys’ next words, “Have you had a chance to run into Daemon by any chance, Y/N?” I chewed hard on my lip at his question, making Viserys raise his eyebrows and laugh at my obvious distaste for his younger brother. “I will take that as a yes. Are the both of you still having trouble getting along?”

“We get along about as well as fire and oil, I’m afraid.” Viserys let out a huge belly laugh at that, “And who is the oil in this situation, you or Daemon?” “Daemon,” I answered without hesitation. “Seven hells, I have no doubt his love for provoking me is fueled by the gods themselves.” Viserys looked amused, “Well, as your king, I am pleased to inform you that I have listened to your petitions and assigned him back to his old post at the City’s Watch. Mayhaps he will cease annoying you with this new responsibility.”

“I thank you for your graciousness, Your Grace,” I curtsied slightly. “Your justice is indeed swift and efficient.” “Well, a king must care for his subjects above all else. And you are like a sister to me.” Viserys patted me on the shoulder, “I must go and check on my beloved now. A King must not keep his Queen waiting after all.” I nodded and turned back to my duties as he ambled away.

The morning sun lazily clambered up the sky, causing the Red Keep to begin to bustle about with noise once more. A servant helped me lace up my new Tyrell green gown, with small gold rocaille prints dotting the bodice and gold roses stitched throughout. Autumn had fallen upon King’s Landing, and the air was beginning to fill with a biting chill, hence my father had ordered the dressmakers to design the dress with fitted long sleeves. I was a little uncomfortable, since I was unused to dresses with fitted sleeves, but it did make it easier for me to tend to Aemma.

I cast a glance at the fireplace. The flames had long died out, but in the midst of the charred black wood, I could see the remnants of parchment. The new dress from Father had not arrived without condition. I had not bothered to read the letter - knowing it would be full of eligible lord names and pleading from my father to just pick one and put him out of his misery - instead chucking it into the fire without a second thought.

“My lady?” Blinking, I looked up at the servant girl. “I am finished with your hair. Are you in need of anything else?” I studied my reflection in the vanity, patting a stray strand of hair down gently. “No, everything is fine. You’ve done a wonderful job. Thank you, Rebecca.” She smiled and curtsied before scurrying off. I put on my favourite pair of gold earrings, checking my reflection one last time before striding out of my chambers.

Aemma was never an early riser, and pregnancy fatigue had only served to prolong her hours spent in bed, hence I always took this opportunity to wander around the Red Keep while undertaking any errands assigned to me at the same time. After making an errand run to the washerwomen to pick up Aemma’s clothes, I bustled over to the Grand Maester’s quarters to request for the Queen’s medicinal teas. I also paid a visit to the seamstress to get a few garments of Aemma’s altered, as she had complained about them being too tight around her bump.

With my list of tasks fulfilled, I breathed out a sigh of relief. Aemma had yet to rise, hence I was wandering aimlessly around the hallways. It was then that I heard a few lads whispering as they passed me. “Did you hear about Prince Daemon’s latest exploits?” “Aye, I heard the smallfolk’s cries all the way from Flea Bottom in my quarters last night. The king has summoned him to the Small Council meeting this morning to demand answers, I’ve heard.” “The prince truly cannot go a day without causing trouble…”

Curiosity piqued, I listened thoughtfully to their conversation until their voices faded away. Daemon? Causing trouble? There was nothing novel of the matter. Yet, the lads had whispered about hearing the cries of the smallfolk. And from what I heard, it did not seem like the cries that Daemon was fond of eliciting.

My nosiness getting the better of me, I turned on my heel, my green skirts swishing behind me. Arriving at the base of the White Knights Tower, I slipped inside a room before anyone could notice and question my presence. The room in question was a secondary armoury, but it was rarely used as the weapons stored here were either blunted after years of use or outright broken. I pushed aside a false pillar made of highly porous stone, revealing a narrow gap which I squeezed through with ease.

Pulling back the pillar to cover the gap once more, my eyes trailed around the expanse of the space as I found myself in a familiar winding hallway. Sunlight poured in through numerous crumbling holes in the ceiling, and the air was filled with a dank smell. Sneezing slightly, I gathered my skirts and quickly made my way through the familiar maze of passageways. I nearly forgot to take a left, almost ending up in the secret halls in the Tower of the Hand, but I retraced my paths and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the Hand’s disdainful voice. Here, the passageways were much more spacious and bright, being situated on the upper floors of Maegor’s Holdfast.

Peeking through one of the spaces in the walls, I caught sight of the Small Council seated around the table. Daemon was sitting near the head of the table still clad in his armour, his face streaked with dirt. Unfortunately, his back was turned to me, so I couldn’t glimpse his expression. However, I noticed most of the lords were looking noticeably on edge, especially the Hand. Otto’s face was even more unpleasant than usual, and that was saying something.

By the Gods, what had Daemon done now?

“You might not know this unless you left the safety of the Red Keep, but much of the city is seen by the smallfolk as lawless, and terrifying.” Daemon’s smooth voice echoed throughout the room. Otto’s face turned as sour as spoiled milk. I had to restrain a snort, he was not incorrect, the residents of the Red Keep, particularly those of noble blood, were very far removed from the lives of the smallfolk. I had once ridden with Rhaenyra and Alicent to the Dragonpit, passing by the streets of Flea Bottom, and safe to say, I was very glad for my life of luxury in the Red Keep, although I did feel sorry for them.

“...I just hope you don’t have to maim half of my city to achieve this.” “Time will tell,” came Daemon’s response. Even with my view of his facial expressions obstructed, I could nearly picture the smirk on his face, clear as day. I rolled my eyes. It seems that Daemon’s first night returning to his duties as commander of the City Watch had been bloody, to say the least.

“If only the prince would show the same devotion to his lady wife as he does to his work, your Grace.” I snapped to attention once more, eyes keenly observing the proceedings through the space. Gods be good, the Hand cannot give it a rest, can he? I suppose he could not: his distaste for Daemon clouded him from better judgement. But he should know better, I bit my lip to restrain the laugh I know would follow. Daemon always knew how to find someone’s sore spots, and Otto Hightower was as prickly as those strange Dornish desert dwelling plants.

“I’d gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you are in want of a woman to warm your bed,” Otto’s face lost its previous smugness as his eyes grew wide in anger and he stiffened at Daemon’s remarks. “Your own lady wife passed recently-” There was a scraping of a chair on the floor as the Hand towered over the table. I recognised the expression on his face, it was one I had worn many times in my life.

The visceral urge to punch Daemon Targaryen in the face.

I clapped my hand over my mouth, trying to fight the battle to keep my laughter at bay

“Did she not?” I lost the battle as a small wheeze erupted from my covered mouth. My eyes widening, I watched as the men at the Small Council table stiffen, particularly Daemon - his stance suddenly became more pronounced and alert. I know it would be hard to discover me unless the men had knowledge of the secret passages, yet I felt my heart thundering in my chest.

But the gods were good, and the men soon dismissed the sound as Viserys attempted to soothe Otto’s anger. Finally, after Viserys admonished Daemon for his actions- albeit not as fiercely as the Hand would have hoped for, judging by how his sharp glare had not subsided in the least after the king’s judgement - Daemon got up to leave, the doors shutting behind him with a definitive thunk. I dusted off my skirts and readied myself to leave as well. The excitement was over, and I had gotten the information I wanted to know anyway. Walking through the hallways again, I debated on which path I should take to ensure my exit would not be noticed by anyone. The nearest exit I knew was immediately out of the question, and I could not sneak out through the exits in any of the royal apartments, because there was an ever-present risk of being discovered by a nosy servant. Sighing, I continued walking, lost in thought, until a figure pushed me against a wall.

I opened my mouth to scream but a hand that smelt of sweat and something coppery covered my mouth, putting a finger to his lips. My eyes narrowed as he released his hand from my mouth. “What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing?” I spouted out angrily as those godsforsaken pair of lilac eyes stared down at me with amusement. “I think I should be asking you that, byka zaldrīzes,” Daemon raised an eyebrow.

“I asked first. How did you even know I was here?” I grumbled, dusting off my dress. The pounding in my chest was so loud I was certain the whole of the Red Keep could hear how much of a terrified wreck I was.

Instead of answering, Daemon reached his hand out to brush at my hair, as I observed him with wary eyes. Then, he flicked my forehead. “Ow! What was that for?” He smirked, “I see you took the armoury entrance, judging from the grime on your face and in your hair.” “And? It was one of the only ways I could get into the passageways without being seen.”

The prince hummed infuriatingly under his breath. “Has anyone ever told you how fond you are of making your life more difficult, byka zaldrīzes?” “Well forgive me, your Grace, but I do not wish to be caught in your apartments trying to sneak into a secret passage. The Red Keep is akin to a vicious beast when it comes to gossip.” The prince let out a triumphant “ha!” as I looked quizzically at him. Had he finally lost his mind?

“Formalities again,” he said, delighted, “I was hoping that yesterday’s episode in the throne room was not the last I would hear of you addressing me formally.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “My question remains unanswered. How did you know I was in here?” The prince snorted. “I think every one of those lickspittles in the small council heard your laugh. I was the only one to recognise it however.”

I huffed. “Well thank the gods it was just you. Had it been the Hand-”

“That cunt is too busy licking my brother’s boots to seek you out, byka zaldrīzes,” Daemon teased, beginning to walk away. Rolling my eyes once again, I followed closely after. “I’m surprised you still remember the entrances. I was of the impression you would get lost if you ever came here again..” “From how many times you dragged me through these hallways to go catch a peak of King Jaehaerys and Prince Baelon in council sessions, it would take me a century to forget these halls.” I japed, as we rounded a corner that took us straight into an old closet in Daemon’s chambers. As we stumbled out, he settled down on his bed with a sigh of relief, and began to remove his armour. I crossed my arms as I leaned against the window, “There is still a lady here, your Grace.” “I don’t see any ladies, only a nosy bird.” “Hilarious.”

I averted my eyes as Daemon began to remove the gold cloak slung behind his shoulders. “I heard you crippled half the smallfolk.” “An exaggeration,” Daemon waved his hand dismissively. “And if so, they were criminals. Looters. Rapers. Petty thieves.” “And yet, you killed numerous innocents in your path to slaughter those criminals.” I said quietly.

Daemon was silent for a while, and I thought he had left to take a bath. But I was startled yet again when I felt a finger softly tilting my chin upward. Lilac eyes swirling with mild annoyance and mirth met my pensive (Y/E/C) ones. “Spare me the reprimand, Y/N. My brother and Lord Cunttower have already said more than enough.” He handed me a wet cloth, and I sighed before brushing it across his face, getting rid of the grime. Our dynamic has not changed since childhood, I mused internally. I walked away to dump the grime covered cloth in a basket for the servants to collect later.

“Do you not agree with my actions?” He motioned me to sit next to him on his bed. Wordlessly, I sat. Our eyes met, his searching mine for my reaction. “The violence was unwarranted,” I began delicately, watching Daemon’s eyes narrow. “However, I’d like to think the ends justify the means. I share Lord Corlys’ view on this matter.”

Daemon leaned back on his bedpost with a smile. “As I thought, you were more sensible than you looked.” His voice rose in volume as he ran a hand through his white blonde locks in frustration. “Pray tell, I just do not understand why my brother only sees the bad, and not the good. Even a mere lady like you could understand. Has that cunt of a Hand pulled the wool over my brother’s eyes so far that he is blind to the welfare of his city?”

Not receiving a response, he looked over at the Lady Tyrell. She sat there, eyes fixed to the ground, her mouth set in a thin line, her hands clasped in her lap. “Y/N?” “And begging your pardon, what exactly does ‘being a mere lady’ supposed to entail?”

Daemon had a slight hunch he might have made a mistake. “I was not implying anyth-” “Really?” Y/N interrupted sharply. “Or did you just consider my wits inferior to yours simply because I am a woman?”    

She stood abruptly, curtsying as she did. “Forgive me, my prince, I have other matters to attend to. If you have had enough of this mere lady’s presence, I shall be off lest a servant discovers us and sets tongues wagging.” She walked briskly out of the room, before Daemon could even formulate a response. Daemon stared at her retreating figure, and he groaned in frustration as he removed the last of his armour. His words had come out unintentionally, and he had not intended to insult her. Why was she so offended by them?

He huffed as soon as he had the thought. Why was it of any concern? He cared not for what that annoying brat thought of him. Sighing, he got up to ready himself for another visit to Flea’s Bottom. He had not seen Mysaria for a time.

translation: byka zaldrīzes: little dragon 

And that’s chapter 2! Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :)) Since chapter 2 was a little bit of a filler chap, chapter 3 should hopefully be released in about three days (as soon as I get that presentation that has been the source of my torment over the past few days on Tuesday done lol)  Let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form! 💗

Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish​ 

#sezaldrizotiprumia_masterlist #se zaldrizoti prumia #aureliawrites #Daemon Targaryen #prince daemon #prince daemon targaryen #daemon x y/n #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon x fem!reader #prince daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x female reader #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fandom #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd reader insert #hotd x reader #hotd x oc #hotd x y/n #hotd x you

[bejewelledgirl]

Adore you

Vernon x Reader

This was requested by @mintchocosan, which also happens to be my first request ever. I hope I did justice to your wonderful prompt. Hope you like it 🫶

Summary: You were recently having a terrible time. When things got too much for you and you went radio- silent, your longtime best friend, Vernon took it upon himself to become your knight in shining armour and to comfort you.

Word Count: 1755 words

Tags: best friend Vernon who has a secret crush on reader, reader having a difficult time, Vernon comforts reader, crying, slight angst and fluff

Vernon was currently lying on his bed staring right at the ceiling as if he wished to burn holes into it. If anyone saw him right now, they would probably think as if he was pondering upon a life-changing decision. Well it wasn't that serious, but he found it strange that it had already been two hours since you got off from work, but he did not hear anything from your side. No messages. No calls.

Vernon was trying to ignore that bitter feeling in his chest and the prospect of you ignoring him. Even the thought of that is enough to drive him crazy. Sure when two people have been best friends as long as they could remember, the 'ignoring thing' definitely hurts but it was even worse for Vernon since he had a crush on you. It was a secret which he was willing to take to the grave.

Realising that he was again getting lost in his memories with you, he focused back on the problem at hand. You would always call him as soon as work ended, talking about your day or about some gossip you had heard at work. You would at least text him, even if you were busy.

Vernon was getting more and more suspicious of the situation, as the clock ticked. He let out a sigh and finally called you up. He could hear the call go through but you did not pick it up. He called once more but he had no luck.

By this time, Vernon was grabbing his jacket and leaving for your house, as he texted you, "Y/n everything good? Is there something wrong?"

Fortunately Vernon had the number of the lady who lived next to you, which he got when he had ordered some books at your address but since you were running late at work and he was stuck in traffic, you sent him your neighbors' number so that she could keep the parcel.

Vernon found out that your neighbor had indeed seen you returning from work and you two greeted each other but she had noticed you looked exhausted. At this, Vernon let out a sigh of relief that you weren't in some super serious situation. Having known you for so long as well as being an innate observer, Vernon also had a bit of an idea as to why you weren't responding to his calls or texts. But he had yet to see whether he was right.

Vernon arrived at your house and looked through the windows. The lights were on! This meant that you were definitely inside. Or maybe it was a burglar who was inside. But the chances of that happening were very low, because Vernon was well aware that you were super broke. Not because you earned less, but because you had zero control over your spending habits.

Vernon immediately retrieved the spare key that he knew was lying in one of your pots of White Roses, in the garden. He unlocked the door and could hear the faint sound of the TV. The sound increased with every step he took towards your living room. When he entered, Vernon could see your comfort show still playing on the TV. Vernon could already sense that something was wrong with you.

When he slightly turned his neck, he could see you sleeping on the couch. You weren't in a comfortable position and Vernon knew you would wake up with a pain in your neck. You weren't sleeping peacefully which Vernon realised from the way your forehead was scrunched. He also saw that you were still in your work clothes. As if to confirm his suspicion, Vernon could also see a half eaten tub of almost melted, ice-cream still lying on the table in front of your sleeping figure.

It was as clear as day to Vernon, you had a terrible day. Vernon walked over to you and gazed lovingly at you. An expression he always made sure no one else could see. Before waking you up, he lightly pressed his thumbs to your forehead in an attempt to relax it.

Vernon then lightly shook your shoulders and spoke in almost a whisper, as he knew you would get startled if he spoke any louder, "y/n wake up now. We need to talk." He said with a smile which did not reach his eyes. He was upset at the thought of you being upset.

When you woke up, you were in utter shock at the person sitting beside you at the couch, "Vernon? How did you get here? Wait, why are you here? Is everything alright? Are you okay?"

Vernon could feel his heart flutter at how it was you who had a terrible day but you were still concerned about him.

"Me? Oh I'm fine. But don't you think it should be me asking that question? Your comfort show, comfort ice-cream, sleeping on the couch still in work clothes... now tell me what's wrong."

You were slightly flustered at the way Vernon was gazing so intensely in your eyes, just waiting to hear what made his best friend so sad. Vernon had mostly known you to be really strong. Even in the worst of times, you would keep a smile on your face. You would never shut yourself out, at least not to your best friend, who was there through it all. Normally you would first try to deny it but the fiery look in his eyes already told you that he wouldn't let it go.

"Well in short, my boss yelled at me because I made some mistakes in the report which I worked on till like 3 in the morning.”

“Don’t try to get clever with me, I know there’s more to it.” Vernon replied in a threatening voice as if to scare you into spilling your guts to him.

“Ugh fine. You know, sometimes I really regret being best friends with you.” , you spoke in a sarcastic tone.

You continued, “Well honestly, there’s not a single reason for this. It was a mixture of everything. Things got so hectic at work, i felt like I couldn’t breathe. I would stay up late working, and even when I would go to bed, I could barely sleep. On top of all this, every time either of my parents call me, they are always complaining about each other. I mean, I grew up in this environment so I am used to this but nowadays, it also makes me question whether love is real at all .”

From the look in your eyes, Vernon knew you were telling the truth. He thought carefully for a second and then he took your hand in his lap and said, “Okay first off, Y/n you are the strongest person I’ve seen in my entire life and the most hard working too. I’m sure your boss yelled at you in the heat of the moment. And I’m sure he appreciates you. Well it’s fine even if he doesn’t because not every person will like you. There’s nothing either I or you can do about this. But I can promise you that I will always be by your side, through all the storms and the earthquakes.” He spoke the last sentence while tightly squeezing your hand as if to emphasise it. It was safe to say that you were starting to get emotional.

Vernon then continued, “As for the second thing, you can always take a day off from work when things get too hectic. I mean you rarely ever do that. Instead you can hang out with me. Just so you know, I have a complete list of movies I need to watch with you. So just say the word, and I’ll be right there.” At the last word, Vernon softly caressed your hair. By this point, tears had started to well up in your eyes.

Vernon continued, “Now as for the third thing, we can always check out a doctor for your insomnia. I don’t think it’s something to worry about since you’ve been like this since college but we’ll do what we can right?” You nodded your head in response. Vernon also made a mental note, to go with you to a doctor on Friday.

“And finally, I have no right to say anything about your parents’ situation but I know one thing for certain. You will definitely find love in your life. I have no idea with whom or when. But I know you will. Also let me just say, the man who gets to have you would be the luckiest man on this planet.” Vernon knew he was playing around a dangerous topic which could end up revealing his ‘secret’ crush so he cleared his throat and brushed a loose stand of your hair behind your ear.

You felt beyond grateful to have someone like Vernon in your life. In a world full of boys, he was a gentleman. But above all, Vernon was both your strength and weakness.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, you didn’t even realise you were crying until you felt warm tears falling down your cheeks. Vernon widened his eyes in shock, “Shit, are you crying? Oh god, I swear I didn’t wanna make you cry.”

Before Vernon could panic any further, you threw your arms around his neck and buried your head in his shoulder. However, the next words that left your mouth almost made Vernon choke on his spit.

“I love you so much Vernon.”

You would have never said this so casually in a conversation but you felt like you needed to remind him just how much you cared for him. Honestly you were a bit scared at how those words sounded so right, and you made a mental note to think about this particular moment later.

Though Vernon could feel butterflies explode in his stomach, he assumed, for his own sanity, that you meant it in a platonic sense.

Vernon hugged you back and whispered softly, “Don’t you dare do something like this again. I could barely breathe when you did not respond to my calls.”

Vernon convinced you to take a day off the next day and you two binge-watched movies till midnight, all wrapped up in each other’s warm embrace. You two actually ended up falling asleep in that position and unbeknownst to Vernon, it was the most peaceful sleep you had gotten in the last 4 months.

Hmm looks like you adored Vernon much more than you actually realised…

#seventeen reader #vernon x reader #vernon scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #vernon fluff #vernon angst #giaa talks

[dairy-farmer]

Tim's first love was a boy.

And he wasn't just any boy, no. This boy had blue eyes the same shade of the sky. This boy spent more time in the air than he did the ground. This boy was a bird meant to fly free forever and always. Tim's first love was a boy named Dick Grayson. *The* Dick Grayson. The kind, the gentle, the passionate.

Tim's first brush with love was... an experience. It felt exhilirating, exciting, terrifying in a fun sort of way. It was an addictive drug that made Tim confused.

He did everything for him. Praised him. Adored him. Loved him. Anything a tiny boy the fresh age of 9-13 could do. He did.

But that wasn't enough to make Tim Dick's first love.

Tim's first love was Dick Grayson. And that ended in a tragedy. (For Tim at least. For Dick, it was one of those awkward little things where you gently tell a little kid 'no, I won't marry you and have babies with you. Why? Because you're a baby yourself.')

...

Tim's second love was also a boy.

This time, his eyes were a shade of green-blue. The color of the lake that Tim used to play around in when he was smaller. This boy was in every way the opposite of the first. He'd been melded with the earth so many times, he could be considered more rock than person. He was fierce, a fiery flame that would only grow stronger the more you try to extinguish him. He was emotional, a poet, a lover. If Dick Grayson were a nobleman, gently whispering promises of love into a maiden's ear, then this boy was a soldier promising his loyalty to her out and loud, kneeling on the ground while she stood on the balcony.

Tim's second love was a boy named Jason Todd.

If Tim's first love was a tragedy, then his second love was a *catasrophe*.

'I'm done with love.' Tim decides to himself as he blurrily watches red hood smear Tim's own blood on the walls of his home.

'So. Done with it.' He thinks, finally fainting with the echoes of red hood's laughter in his ears like some twisted little lullabye.

...

Tim's third love came as a surprise. She was a careless thing, hopeful and determined to be a defender of justice. It was cute. Clumsily cute. Like watching a tiny pup play around in a new environment. His feelings for her came out of nowhere- like the brick she used to hit his face the first time they met. She was pretty. Everything about her was pretty. From her hair to her laugh to her smile to her- well. Everything.

She liked him too, actually. They lasted a while. But trust and communication got in the way. She was someone who spoke with actions more than words and... turns out Tim doesn't quite get her actions that well. Not that he wasn't someone to blame as well, turns out trust was much more important in a relationship than both knew.

It was a puppy love kinda thing they had. Something they'd look back to once in a while. Meant to meet but not meant to be.

Bummer.

Oh well, c'est la vie for a vigilante. He chose this life, and nothing would make him regret it.

...

Tim's fourth love almost made him regret the cool vigilante life style.

But. To be fair.

Batman made everyone regret something at least once in their life.

Tim should've known falling for the 'dark and brooding' kind of guy would only end in a disaster. Batman, despite being the greatest detective on earth, saw absolutely no signs that Tim liked him like that. It was so frustrating! Why on earth would Tim fall for someone so! So!! Bruce!!

Bruce was womanizer, someone who caught every lady's eye everywhere he went no matter who he dressed up as (Even as Matches Malone he caught some eyes. Ugh. It's like crushing on a celebrity that you personally knew. Jealousy was so not a good color on Tim.)

Women loved him, so was it really a surprise when Bruce got with Selena? His on-again-of-again girlfriend that kinda treated Tim like some kid. He wasn't even Bruce's kid! Why! Ugh.

So, like a stubborn man who decided to get better taste in crushes. Tim's fourth love ended in bitter tears and a promise to do better.

...

Tim's fifth love was somewhat expected. Half the hero population already considered them dating, actually. His fifth love was electrifying in an exciting way. They knew each other too well. Tim had Kon's entire person memorized and Kon had his heartbeat memorized. Kon was a breath of fresh air compared to his previous crushes. He knew exactly what Tim was thinking, he trusted in him wholeheartedly. He loved Tim in every way that mattered. They liked the same things, made fun of each other's tastes in a way that doesn't hurt. Kon felt like Tim's old teddy bear Mr. Honeypot, who Tim told all his secrets to and loved dearly in that nostalgic, "you'll always be my teddy bear" way.

So that's why they didn't work out. Because Kon will always be Tim's clone-boy and Tim will always be Kon's Robin. Being with Kon would feel like getting married to your best friend in your late 30s. They were each other's safe option, the last choice. Tim just. Didn't like Kon that way no matter how hard he tried. It felt too much like making out with an alive mr. Honeypot. Tainting something sweet and innocent.

Tim's fifth love ended in an awkward goodbye. (For tim at least. For Kon, it was the most heartbreaking heartbreak he had ever felt.)

...

Tim's final love was. Well. It was funny for one thing. Tim's final love was someone who he thought he'd never get along with- much less get with. He was a spiteful man, with vocabulary far too old for his age. He was someone who had a sharp tongue to partner with his quick wit. Emerald eyes that glimmer in the dead of night and soften once it was on Tim. Tanned skin that looked so good mixed with Tim's pure white bedsheets. Muscles that could go for days and a gentle laugh that had Tim's heart beating at an odd pace.

Tim always knew he liked older people. Even steph had a few months ahead of him. He liked being the younger in the relationship. The only person he wasn't technically the youngest in a relationship with was Kon, but that's because Kon doesn't even have double digits in age. (Kon joked once that his birthday should've been on febuary 29th, that way he'd never reach double digits.)

So it came as a surprise when Tim found himself falling for Damian of all people.

Yeah. Tim likes the brat.

But in his defense. Tim has never felt more pampered. Sure it wasn't getting with an older guy, but it sure *felt* like it. Damian loved to do everything for Tim. Acts of service. How gentlemanly of him. He massaged Tim's feet, fed him grapes, did everything Tim asked. He even led during sex which. Wow. Tim has never felt that good, by the end of it all his legs were shaking and he was fucked literally senseless. He had to be carried for a day and a half cause he lost the feel in his own body. Damian cherished him, as if he was some precious jewel that belonged in a treasurecove guarded by a dragon or something.

Damian always had this whole smug face and smug aura whenever he paraded Tim around. It was like the cat that got the canary. Tim doesn't really get it, but it was a cute expression on his face so Tim let him parade his body around ('really, it should've been the other way around' Tim thinks. 'I should be showing you off instead')

Tim's last love is the best love he's ever felt. It was amazing. It was heaven. It was. Jesus. It was Damian. Isn't that enough of an explanation?

...

"So. Y'think baby bird knows we like him yet?" Jason nudges Dick as they watch Damian twirl Tim around in the air.

Dick shakes his head, smiling softly at the scene. "Nope. Tim doesn't have a single clue. But, to be fair, he did like us before though. Guess it just wasn't time."

Jason blinks at him. "Y'mean he liked you. Don't think pretty bird there ever liked me." He scoffed.

Dick smirks at him. "Oh? Jaybird, didn't you know?"

Jason rolls his eyes at him. "I think I'd know if Tim had a crush on me."

Dick nods. "Tower incident that's when he stopped."

Jason blinked.

"He what."

Dick shrugs at him, turning around to purposefully miss Damian kissing Tim on the mouth. "Yeah. I don't think liking him same time he liked us would make anything different though. I was too old, you were... you. And Bruce is. Bruce."

Jason gasped. "Oh my god, he liked Bruce too?"

Dick nods, biting back a shit-eating grin. "And guess what? He almost said yes to Kon."

Jason dramatically gasps, both hands coming up to his face. "You mean! They weren't ever together!"

Stephanie jumps on Jason's back out of nowhere. "We're talking about Tim? Puh-lease. As if any one of you even had a chance with him. Least I got to try him out~" she purred.

Jason pushes her away, laughing lightly. "Yeah yeah. He's with the demon-brat now. But I'm calling dibs if they break up!"

Dick punches his arm. "Too bad, I called dibs first!"

!!!!!!!! this was so good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all of tim's loves being the bats and how they ultimatly disappointed or hurt him- except for kon and damian. and with damian tim was finally able to find real reciprocal love❤️❤️❤️❤️!!! poor kon though, that tim was his most devestating and most heartbreaking loss💔!

but damian being the one who loves tim back, who treats him well, who makes tim happy!!!!

even with his brothers calling dibs in the end, no way will damian ever let tim slip through his fingers like they all did!!!!

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #dicktim #brutim #jaytim #damitim

[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Bellova finally uses the information she has against Coriolanus to try to convince him to marry. It ends up being the worst decision she has ever made.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: THIS IS A VERY DARK CHAPTER. It contains manipulation/gaslighting/brainwashing, cursing, violence, and misogynistic undertones

A/n: This chapter is from Bellova’s third person POV.

Bellova knew she had to do everything in her power to skew the odds in her favor. 

She had to say exactly the right things in exactly the right tone. She had to keep her temper in check as not to anger him, which would be the biggest challenge of all.

She knew Coriolanus almost as well as she knew herself. But he had changed, and she had to account for that. She assumed he wouldn’t hear her out if she was too aggressive, so she had to take a more diplomatic approach. 

Walking in front of the large mirror in her bedroom, Bellova did a once-over of her outfit. It was certainly gave her a more mature aura, and the dark red color of the dress complimenting her skin tone nicely. She liked the addition of the gloves, they made her look sophisticated.

In short, she looked like a Capitol heiress that anyone would be lucky to have as a bride.

Her driver pulled her family’s limousine up to the front of the estate, and Bellova slid into the passengers seat before he could get out and open the door for her.

“I see you’re eager to get going. Where to, Miss Bellova?” he asked. 

“The Citadel,” she said. “I have some important business to take care of.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking through the familiar halls of the Citadel, Bellova felt the gaze of many people turn towards her. Her elegant dress greatly contrasted the dull outfits the Citadel employees wore, making her stand out even more. 

She silently scolded herself for being so nervous. It was just Snow. The same man she had argued with countless times over the course of her life. The same boy that she had pushed off a play structure when they were children. 

Sure, he was more powerful now. He had an aura of danger around him that hadn’t been there before he left for 12. But it’s not as if he could hurt her and get away with it.

Right?

Bellova finally approached Coriolanus’s office door. She checked her appearance one last time in the reflection the small glass window provided, and then knocked three times on the door. 

“Come in,” Coriolanus said, clearly irritated. “And don’t waste my time.”

Bellova pushed open the door, closing it behind her swiftly. She smiled at him, hoping to appear unthreatening.

Coriolanus gave her an unimpressed look. “What brings you here?”

She laughed. “Hello to you too.”

He rolled his eyes. “I said not to waste my time. Get to the point before I kick you out.” 

“Fine, fine,” Bellova said. God, he was such an asshole, but he was so pretty. “I have…a proposal for you.”

He smirked. “That’s odd, considering that you’ve spent the last few months avoiding me.”

She purses her lips, trying her hardest to refrain from rolling her eyes. “I decided that wasn’t the best course of action. We’re not children anymore, Snow, being petty won’t get us anywhere. Instead of working against each other, maybe combining our power and influence would be more beneficial. For both of us.”

Coriolanus frowned. “So what exactly are you proposing?” 

She inhaled sharply. “We should get married.”

He blinked. “Pardon?“

“It would be a politically intelligent move. With my connections in the Department of Justice and yours with Dr. Gaul and the Gamemakers, we could be unstoppable. Nobody would dare to cross us ever again. All we’d have to do is play pretend for the press, and we would have a chokehold on the entire Capitol.”

A beat of silence passed.

Then, Coriolanus laughed. It was cold and condescending laugh, and Bellova felt her face flush with shame.

“You seriously thought I would consider marrying you? You truly are delusional.”

Bellova felt the familiar urge to slap him, but she pushed it down as best as she could. “Fine then,” she said. “How about this: either agree to my proposal, or I won’t hesitate to ruin your life again.”

Coriolanus scoffed. “And how exactly would you do that?”

“I would tell every press outlet in the Capitol every awful thing I know about you. I would tell them that your asshole of a father stole the idea of the Hunger Games from Casca Highbottom just to impress Dr. Gaul. I would tell them how you murdered that tribute in cold blood the arena last year. I’d tell them that you sent Sejanus Plinth to his grave and used his parent’s grief to replace him as the heir to the Plinth fortune. And I would tell them how you murdered Dean Highbottom just last week. Did I miss anything?”

She saw his expression shift from neutral to startled and slightly panicked. She smirked, relishing in her ability to install fear in him. 

“Oh yes, how could I forget: I’d tell them that you fell in love with a district girl and cheated in the Games just to keep her alive-“

“I did not love Lucy Gray,” Coriolanus snarled.

Bellova sneered back. “You’re the worst liar I know, you should really learn the art of deception if you want to be a politician. What happened to your little songbird anyway? Did you kill her to keep her from spilling your secrets?”

He then stood up, his eyes glinting with malice. Bellova had the urge to look away, but forced herself to maintain eye contact. 

“Nobody would believe any of that, especially coming from you.”

She tilted her head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re a conniving, overprivileged, pathetic little c-“

Before she could stop herself, Bellova lifted her right hand and slapped him as hard as she could.

“How dare you speak to me that way?” she screamed, abandoning all efforts to remain calm.

“I’ll speak to you however I fucking please,” he sneered, walking around his desk to stand tower over her smaller frame. 

“I’m going to murder you, Snow,” she said furiously.

“That’s ironic, considering you came here with the intention of marrying me.”

Fuck it. Revenge was more important than political gain. 

Bellova lunged towards him, her hands reaching out to strangle the Snow heir. 

But before she could wrap them around his throat, he pushed her hard, sending her flying backwards into the wall. Before she could make another move, Coriolanus whipped a metal object out of his pocket. 

A syringe.

She felt her heart leap into her throat, fear and regret overtaking her. She had pushed him too far. He had laid hands on her for the first time ever. And now he was going to kill her. 

Coriolanus used one hand to pin her to the wall, and grinned psychotically. 

“Snow, what the fuck are you doing-“

Pain erupted in her neck as the needle pierced through her skin. She felt liquid being pushed into her body, and instantly felt sick to her stomach. 

She was going to die. She was sure of it.

Bellova collapsed against the tile floor. She felt she was being burned alive. Her vision became unfocused, and she felt like her mind was malfunctioning. Words seemed to die in her throat, and her limbs felt like lead. 

With the little strength she maintained, she managed to climb onto all fours. 

“Wh-What,” she croaked. “What are you doing to me?” 

Coriolanus crouched down in front of her, grabbing her by the chin. She shuddered at the sudden contact of his cold skin on hers. His hold on her was painfully tight and oddly possessive. “Finally shutting you up after all these years.”

She was never going to reach her full potential.

She was never going to become the woman her father always believed she could be.

“No!” she cried, tears of pain and emotional anguish blurring her vision. She felt her arms tremble before giving out, and she curled into a protective ball, hiding her face from the man standing above her. 

‘This is the end,’ she thought as her tears formed a pool beneath her. ‘This is how I die. At the feet of my lifelong rival like a helpless damsel.’ 

As the world slowly faded to black, she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for death to give her peace. 

But death didn’t come.  

She was forced into a fate much worth than death: 

eternal captivity. 

She was now and forever the property of Coriolanus Snow. 

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! I promise that the Bellova you know isn’t completely gone forever….you’ll have to see how things progress in Part III!!!

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x oc #tbosas #the hunger games #original character #thg prequel #coriolanus snow x reader

[teagballs]

hello angel! I was wondering if you could write a Dennis Reynolds x fem!reader one shot where basically, reader is apart of the gang and has been for a while. Surprisingly, one time when Dennis was really angry, she calmed him down. Everyone was shocked the first, but slowly overtime got used to it. Dennis always ignored the warm feeling in his chest when she calmed him, but when he went on a date and got really mad and the girl tried to calm him down, he got even more angry than realised he liked reader??

sorry if it’s confusing 😭🫶

calmed | dennis reynolds x reader

read part 2 here!!

authors note: HEYOOO still alive. thank u sm for this prompt anon! tbh it was a bit of a challenge and i struggled 😭 i always struggle to write for dennis. i hope i did this idea justice cuz i love it. also this is my first iasip fic im publishing yayayay please send more requests for it im sooo deep into it rn. ive got a dee fic in the works rn.

cw: average dennis insanity ofc, swearing, mentions of D.E.N.N.I.S ing girls so yk, mentions of sex.

fic under the cut!

You can recall the first time you ever saw Dennis freak out.

"Idiots! Fucking idiots all of them!" Dennis ranted in his usual methodic tone. The gang wasn't phased, this sort of Dennis rant was something they'd become accustomed to. For you - the latest addition the gang - you had never witnessed one of Dennis' outbursts. It was probably that empathic nature or yours that made you want to act, to console him. And you did. Despite the gang's protests, once they noticed you about to leap into action. They knew it was better to just let Dennis ride out the anger and come down again. But you reached out and touched his arm. The gang collectively held their breath, expecting Dennis to bark out some obscenities in response, but it never came. The feeling of your hand on him made him turn to face you, to look at you.

"Dennis, it's okay, we'll fix this, I promise."

And he calmed. And took a deep breath.

"You know what? You're right. I can fix this." Dennis exhaled. Everyone was shocked,

"What the fuck just happened." Mac said blankly. In the whole time they had known him, Dennis had never been able to be pacified from one of these insane outbursts.

But then it became frequent, because Dennis's raging was frequent. Every time he would begin ranting and raving, you were able to calm him down. It was a voice of serene amidst the chaos. It went on for years like this, as you became part of the gang.

You were usually there hanging out with the gang when things would go wrong, and you'd be able to solve it and calm him down. But today, that wasn't the case. Today, Dennis was on a date.

Dennis was in the process of getting this woman to sleep with him, his stock procedure. But the date had been falling apart. It first started with his suit getting ruined. After dressing himself up in a nice blazer and shirt outfit, it was massacred by spaghetti after Mac spilt it on top of Dennis. Mac was haphazardly carrying it through their shared kitchen and failed to notice him.

"Christ Mac, what the hell are you doing!"

But that was okay. He could manage. He would just have to change. And although this did delay him, he could still D.E.N.N.I.S this girl. He could just say he was late because he was helping some old lady cross the street or looking after a stray kitten.

After successfully making it out of the door, he began to drive to the date. A cute restaurant not too far from his apartment, a picturesque rendezvous. But this was stalled even further by the lack of parking spaces available. Dennis groaned at threw his head back against the car headrest. After circling the block for what felt like the 100th time, Dennis decided to just park further away and book it to the restaurant. He settled for a tucked away corner of the city. Sure, it was far, but hey, at least it was a space.

Finally, after running to the entrance of the restaurant, he saw his date waiting, arms folded.

"Dennis! There you are! What took you so long?Are you.. okay? You look at a little out of sorts." Cadence spoke.

"Sorry. Sorry. Some old hags cat was- was trying to cross the road. I had to run from the other side of town." Dennis panted. He didn't expect the journey to have made him so debilitated. 'Not a perfect excuse, either. I might have messed up the wording..' he thought.

Dennis and his date, Cadence finally entered the restaurant. Dennis regained most of his breath and approached the host.

"Reynolds, table for two." He told the host.

The host scanned their notebook with a pen and searching eyes.

"Sorry, sir, I don't see anything for Reynolds here. Are you sure you booked for this restaurant?" The host replied. They lacked any kind of care for the situation, replying in a detached tone. Most likely years of working customer service had drained them.

"Am I sure I booked for- do you think I'm some kind of bumbling buffoon? Of course I fucking did!" Dennis snarled. Seemingly the frustrations from the evening were overflowing and spilling out.

"What do you take me for some kind of idiot!?" Dennis continued to bawl.

At this point, his date was getting embarrassed of his uncontrolled emotions. Cadence leaned in and touched his forearm. And maybe if it wasn't Dennis Reynolds she had performed this action on, it could have worked and soothed him.

"Dennis its okay, we can go eat somewhere else if you want?"

Immediately Dennis shook her grip off him.

"If I want? Why would I want to eat somewhere else when I made a fucking reservation here. What I want is to eat here!" He snapped, tapping his finger on the hosts notebook.

"Dennis, it's okay. We will do whatever you want." Cadence tried again.

"What I want? What I want is... well, what would you know about fixing shit! You're just..! Well, you're not.. not." Oh. And that's when it hit him.

What Dennis wanted now was not a reservation at this pseudo-rich restaurant. And he knew he certainly didn't want Cadence to try and comfort him. Her words didn't seem to hold any mindfulness or meaning... but yours did. She wasn't you. What he wanted was you. That's all he ever wanted. Everything else he had been doing for was a pathetic search to fill the void. The women he was trying to do, D.E.N.N.I.S, the dates he'd go on, the sex he would have, it all meant nothing.

All he wanted was you. A pure undivided love and something he had never felt before. Dennis had an unprofound realisation that he liked someone. Something most come to grips with in adolescents. But for him, that realisation was something he had never had. It made his heart ache and burn. He needed to act. He needed to call you and spill his heart out. Because no one was like you, and that's all he could think about as he turned on his heel and left the restaurant.

#dennis reynolds x reader #dennis reynolds #iasip x reader #its always sunny in philidelphia x reader #its always sunny x reader #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

[itsgameofthronesimagines]

Would you be able to do another Alicent Hightower x fem reader headcanon/imagine? Maybe where the reader is a targaryen/velaryon but enjoys fighting/hunter instead of normal “lady” things?? I’m not great at coming up with prompts so srry if it’s bad, but there’s a lack of Alicent content and I really need some. Thanks!

-🐢

Title: Green With Envy

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,482

Summary: Y/n Velaryon is the best of both of her siblings. She’s a cunning warrior and skilled in fighting like Ser Laenor, and is one of the best dragon riders in all the Seven Kingdoms, like Lady Laena. Alicent would be a fool not to notice this.

Warnings: Anxiety, mostly. Alicent’s riddled with it.

Author’s Note: It’s a short one but I loved the idea of it, nonetheless. I hope you enjoy!

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

“Cousin Y/n. Walk with me. I wish to hear about the years we’ve been apart.”

Alicent could feel her face twist momentarily into a frown against her will as she watched Y/n and a pregnant Rhaenyra leave the room, arm-in-arm, behind her wine cup.

Between the chaos of Vemond Velaryon’s death and the King’s wish for a family dinner, Alicent hasn’t had her usual warrior to stand by her side. Y/n had been reuniting with her nieces and nephews and allowing her mother to dote on her. Alicent couldn’t feel envy from this. Princess Rhaenys lost two of her children in a short span of time, and she would no doubt want to spend her days in King’s Landing beside her last living child.

No, what truly thrusted envy into Alicent’s heart was Rhaenyra, once again taking whatever she wanted without ever facing the consequences. Surely, the princess wasn’t stupid enough to take Y/n away from Alicent as well as everything else. Nothing will take the Queen’s sword shield from her. Nothing.

Y/n has done the impossible. She fought all odds and survived her birth. She claimed the Bronze Fury, Vermithor when she was only ten years old. She rose to the ranks of knighthood even though she was a woman. She put herself in the King’s court and swore fealty to the Queen... She even stole that queen’s heart.

Ser Y/n Velaryon is a perfect mixture of both her brother and sister, therefore a storm, not even her father could tame. And like any storm her family avoids, she swallows up and takes what she wants without mercy. But like many storms, Y/n is also forgiving and gentle, proving the fruits of her labor is well worth her knighthood. She believes in faith and justice, much like a true knight often portrayed in a little girl’s fantasy.

If Alicent was still a little girl, she would have considered Y/n the knight of her fantasy. Now a woman grown, she looks at Y/n and sees so much more. Y/n is more than just the Maiden or the Father. She is the Warrior as well, all of them reincarnated into this woman to tempt the Queen Consort.

Y/n was a powerful ally to the Greens, which made Alicent all the more concerned at the thought of Rhaenyra stealing her away. Should the Blacks want to take her sworn shield, Alicent would be sure to make their efforts a living hell.

These thoughts kept her awake for most of the night, waiting anxiously for her sworn shield’s return. A knock suppresses her door, and the Queen bids whoever was there to enter. Ser Y/n marches in, her helmet under her arm as she dutifully bows her head to Alicent, “Your Grace.”

“What did Princess Rhaenyra want from you?” Was the first thing Alicent could find within herself to ask, standing from her chair by the hearth.

Y/n smiled slightly as she raised her head, “She wanted to know how my days in court have been. She congratulated me when I told her how I was your sworn shield.”

Suspicious and on edge, Alicent clasped her hands together so as not to pick her nails, “That’s all you spoke of?”

“We talked about the baby for the most part. She’s very confident it’s a girl.”

The Queen forces herself to relax, unwinding her hands to lean on the back of the chair. Alicent takes a deep breath, watching the flames dance in the hearth, “I see.”

She hears Y/n’s armor as the female knight takes slow steps forward, and with each step comes the beating of Alicent’s heart, pounding in her ears, “Your Grace, I fear I have news from my mother that may concern you if you mind me telling.”

Her heart sinks before Alicent forces herself to remain undeterred, briefly nodding her head in her shield’s direction, “Please do.”

“She spoke of my father and his health and then mentioned a letter he had sent to her before he sustained his injury. As you well know, with Laenor and Laena dead... Lord Corlys no longer has an heir to Driftmark until Prince Lucerys comes of age. His legacy is dwindling... and so he wishes me to go home and marry the son of a Sealord of Braavos.”

The crackling of the fire fills the room and drowns out the silence. Alicent’s eyes finally move to meet Y/n’s gaze as her stomach drops with dread, “... What?”

Y/n’s sigh was heavy, internal mourning shadowing her features as her eyes dance over Alicent’s, “I am Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys’ last living child... and I am unwed and childless.”

“But you’re a knight!”

A scowl takes its place on the knight’s lips as she spoke ill of her father, “Not even Lord Corlys believes that my vows ring true because of my sex.”

Alicent scoffs in disbelief, turning around and drawing closer to the fire as her nails finally rise to her mouth. Her fingers shake against her lips, her teeth desperately wanting to tear at the skin around her nails, desperate to feel the familiar sting to relieve the stress of her troubles. It was as she feared. The Blacks wanted Y/n, as powerful as she is, with her dragon and her lust for battle. Rhaenyra, yet again, wants to take everything as hers knowing that there is no one able to tell her ‘no’. The princess wants nothing but to cause Alicent pain, as she always has. Even when they were girls, lovesick and innocent of the world, Rhaenyra did as she pleased and gave Alicent grief for worrying so much about her public figure. Either Rhaenyra was blind to life’s expectations of her as a woman, or she just didn’t care and wanted to fly her dragon with Alicent at her back. It was stupid, wishful thinking at the time, and even after all these years, Rhaenyra seems determined to prove her point by taking whoever she wants whenever she wants.

And yet, Alicent also couldn’t help but think of this small betrayal as a political move. House Velaryon was, by all accounts, loyal to Rhaenyra and her succession to the Iron Throne, through her marriage to Laenor and Corlys’ ambition for power. If the Sea Snake felt threatened by the Greens in any way, he would want his daughter removed from her service to Queen Alicent. Rhaenyra might have been aware of this prior to her arrival at the Capitol and could have wanted to persuade her cousin Y/n to the Blacks.

This hardens Alicent’s heart, her back straightening until she’s the regal queen the public believes her to be, her fingers falling from her lips to draw to her sides. Remembering her station and place in this world, Alicent’s persona becomes stern and confident, unlike the young lady she once was, full of crippling anxiety. Turning away from the hearth, Alicent points her gaze back to Y/n.

The change in her posture must have been obvious as Y/n slowly straightens to attention, watching her carefully as Alicent stepped closer. The Queen took several steps until she was close enough to feel Y/n’s breath on her forehead, then proceeded to lift a hand to rest on her sworn shield’s chest plate. With determination and authority, Alicent spoke as clearly as possible, “You are sworn to me. You made your vows to me. As your Queen, I forbid it. I forbid you from leaving King’s Landing. I pray for your father’s recovery... only so that I can tell him this myself.”

Her hand trails further up until it rests on the side of Y/n’s face, and finally, the knight relaxes against Alicent’s touch, shoulders slouching in relief as if she was worried the Queen would obey her father’s wishes. In a small whisper, Y/n nods to Alicent, “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Alicent nods sternly despite the hammering of her heart and her wish to smile. Instead, she pulls away, immediately missing the feel of Y/n’s flesh against her skin, but refused to show it. Clasping her hands together to keep them from touching Y/n again, Alicent lifts her chin high, “Tomorrow, I wish to meet Vermithor officially. You must introduce me.”

Y/n’s eyes widen in shock and Alicent can’t entirely blame her for the surprise. She didn’t know what came over her, but Alicent didn’t dare take it back. She was always wary about dragons, even as a girl. She always refused a ride when Rhaenyra offered to take her on Syrax, yet to Alicent, this felt entirely different. Y/n is not Rhaenyra, and Alicent always feels the need to be a part of Y/n’s life, in every way she can be. Knowing her sworn shield to be a dragon rider didn’t bother Alicent like she thought it would, and perhaps that’s how she knew she was in love with Y/n.

Her sworn knight smiled widely, her eyes gleaming against the flames of the hearth, cheeks warm as she bowed, “As you command, My Queen.”

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Please leave your support and if you want a request, send a raven and leave it in the ask box!

#alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower imagines #alicent hightower imagine #queen alicent #rhaenyra x alicent #rhaelicent #olivia cooke #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon imagines #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #corlys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #laenor velaryon #laena velaryon