#this is NOT a complaint though god bless | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

k-hotchoisan · 8 days

Note

hello dearest 🥰

hard hours are open? so are my legs for this:

thoughts on writing a full story?

love you and your work, have a blessed new years ❤️

7 minutes of compensation

Coming back upset and disappointed at how your date turned out, Seonghwa and Yunho decide on a way to compensate you, in their own pretty little way.

Rating: R - explicit

Genres/Warnings: pwp, smut, 3some, oral (f receiving), riding, orgasms, fratboys!ateez, pet names, unprotected sex, face fucking, cream pies, dacryphilia, fingering, reader is a brat and it's deserved, pussy slapping (only once)

Word count: 3.6K

a/n: super late on this one, but this prompt was perfect for @atzhouse frat boys event <3 enjoy and indulge heavily 🩷 also thank you to my lovely @bro-atz for helping me develop the plot i could kiss u to death!!

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify

You were gonna fucking kill them. The both of them. As much as you adored them as your roommates, you swear they fucking sucked at matchmaking, or either that, their fraternity has men that are less than subpar.

Unfortunately for Yunho, he happened to be in the line of fire, and he got the heat first—meeting your cold gaze, then your sharp eye rolls which truthfully, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him until you blocked his path, arms folded tightly across your chest, your bottom lip sucked in from sheer annoyance, and even though Yunho pretty much towered over you, for once, you don’t feel small.

“Is it a thing in your little groupie that none of y’all can even reach the bare minimum of being a man?” You spit, narrowing your eyes, tilting your head.

Yunho scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “I’m not following, y/n”, he replies. Even though you know he’s being honest, unfortunately, he’s still part of the stupid fraternity, and technically he seconded introducing this poor excuse of a male to you.

“Where’s Park Seonghwa? Is he hiding from me because he fucking knew that son of a bitch was a sorry excuse of a man?” You grunt, attempting to push past Yunho, who quickly grabs you by the shoulders before you actually start acting on impulse and causing some property damage. It works. Barely.

“Hey, hey. Y/n, you need to tell me what happened before you decide to burn our dorm to the ground,” Yunho says, trying to meet your glacial eyes. God, Yuhno is so fucking lucky that he has a personality of a cotton ball because that’s what he could turn you into in an instant just with his gentle voice and soft demeanor. You kind of knew it wasn’t really his fault that the male he and Seonghwa introduced ended up being completely a piece of shit, but still.

No. You weren’t about to falter at Yunho’s warm gaze and the way he’s leaning into you, his hands firm on your shoulders. Deep inside, you knew Yunho was the last person to be unreasonable.

Your hard stare is slowly softening and the hostility is slowly dissolving much to your dismay, but you still hold your pout, now turning more cranky than mad.

You decide taking a deep breath to start your complaint would be the right way about it, especially since it helped with hiding your tears that were just threatening to fall.

At that moment, Seonghwa emerges from his room, having heard the commotion from the common space, his face as clueless as Yunho’s. Yunho turns away from you, the grip on your shoulders lightening as he stands up straight to look at the older male.

Seonghwa’s stare blank as he shuts his door, “I heard my name. What’s going on?”

Now there the three of you were—on your bed, Seonghwa on your left, Yunho on your right, the both of them exchanging glances at each other, not wanting to break the silence or you’d end up breaking their necks. Your arms are still crossed, and your expression now a pout rather than some intention to commit murder within the dorm. You made them sit with each other in complete silence while you decided to take a shower to hopefully wash off the vexation, obviously to no avail. At least you smelled nice.

“The guy the both of you introduced”, you huff another deep breath, “not only fucking sucked in bed but tell me why none of you told me he was fucking someone else?”

Another exchange of glances, this time with panic and confusion swirling in their eyes. You stand up and face them, your hands on your hips.

“We swear we didn’t know”, Seonghwa is the first to respond, his hands raised defensively. “He said he was interested in you, and we just…”

“Linked the both of you up, since you offhandedly mentioned that he was pretty cute”, Yunho continues.

You smile, which doesn’t reach your eyes on top of dripping with anything but kindness or satisfaction, well, given the complete fuckery your stupid date put you through. You lean forward, stroking Seonghwa’s jaw, and for a moment, he seems entranced by your gaze, growing slightly breathless for a split second.

“Did you know who he was fucking?” You ask, and it comes off as a rhetorical pop quiz question, which both Seonghwa and Yunho knew better than even trying to guess, lest you have their heads in your arms by the time this is over.

Seonghwa’s tongue slips out, wetting his plump lips out of nervousness. Sometimes you think Seonghwa looks absolutely delectable when he stares up at you with his doe eyes. You watch him shake his head.

Then you let go of the poor man, leaving him to catch his breath on top of having the smell of your body soap almost shutting the rest of his senses down.

“His ex-girlfriend”, you spit, accompanied by a roll of your eyes. Both males had expressions that were equivalent to being a deer in headlights, which slightly cushioned your hostility because it seemed that they genuinely didn’t know about this.

“I’m sorry to hear about that”, Yunho says, and there’s a glint of guilt in his eyes you barely catch. His hands reach out to yours, hoping to appease your anger slightly, and Seonghwa mirrors his reaction.

“Y/n, I’ll make sure he never contacts you ever, alright?” Seonghwa follows, his fingers gently stroking yours, making a mental note to bash his fraternity mate into the wall when he has the chance to. “Yunho and I will make sure of that.”

“I can’t believe he fucking fumbled a chance like that”, Yunho mutters.

You remove your hands from the two males, crawling towards the headboard, letting your head rest on the endless amount of pillows, both Seonghwa and Yunho trailing you with their eyes, watching the way your shorts were riding dangerously up your thighs.

“I want compensation, from the both of you”, you remark, your eyes darting to your phone screen, gradually getting distracted as your anger slowly dissipates. “On top of him being a piece of shit, he fucks like a loser. You have guys like that in your fraternity to represent how y’all fuck or what?”

It takes less than a millisecond for Seonghwa’s gaze to darken, which you don’t notice until your phone gets snatched from your hands. You are about to part your lips to complain, that is, until you see the poison dripping from Seonghwa’s gaze. Before you can register it, a pair of arms lift you from below, and you’re facing Seonghwa, while being seated on Yunho’s lap. Yunho’s arms are wrapped around you, and you realise you’re trapped.

“No, Angel. We don’t fuck like that piece of shit does”, Seonghwa corrects you, his voice calm and almost angelic, if it wasn’t for the fact that his tone is tinted with anything but.

“We fuck better.”

“You shouldn’t lump us with guys like him, that hurts our feelings y’know”, Yunho chimes behind you, his voice tickling your ear.

Seonghwa’s lips are inches away from yours, “Believe me, we’ll compensate you fully.”

You feel your heart hammering in your chest, the tension in the air climbing up in levels at a rapid pace. Seonghwa doesn’t intend to give you the time to form your thoughts before his lips are on yours, gentle yet greedy, growing more possessive by the second, and you let yourself melt into his lips, his touch, his seduction.

Soft moans escape your lips the more Seonghwa lets his tongue swipe yours and your lips. Fuck. Yunho’s fingers snake underneath your shirt, sending goosebumps all over your abdomen until he reaches your tits, and his fingers begin to roll your nipples against his fingertips as he alternates between squeezing your full tits, enjoying the whimpers you’re voicing while Seonghwa makes a mess out of your lips. Your mind is slowly slipping, and the next thing you’re feeling is the way your panties are getting soaked by the second.

Seonghwa pulls back, licking away the string of saliva connecting both of your lips, watching your lips swollen and your face flush, with a smile on his face.

Yunho’s hands leave your tits, and he brings up your shirt past your shoulders while Seonghwa pulls off your shorts, exposing the pretty wet patch on your panties.

“Look at you, so pretty and wet for us”, Yunho hums, his hand reaching down past your panties, and you gasp at the feeling of his fingertips drawing circles on your wet clit. He does it so painfully slow and you swear he’s doing it on purpose.

“Yunho-“, you mutter breathlessly, your hands grabbing his muscled arm. Seonghwa pulls your panties to the side, revealing your soaking pussy, just begging to be filled up. Yunho shifts his hands from underneath your panties to where Seonghwa had pulled them to the side.

They weren’t about to let you have your way, at least not yet.

“Now, are you taking back what you said about us fucking like losers?” Seonghwa asks, guiding Yunho’s fingers going back to circling between your clit and your sopping hole. You swear you were about to lose your fucking mind.

You stare at Seonghwa, eyes slowly getting glazed out the more Yunho’s fingertips grazed along your clit.

“No.”

Yunho’s hand makes impact on your cunt, making you gasp, your eyes blowing open from the shock that climbed along your spine, the sound wet and loud.

“Wrong answer, dollface”, Yunho hisses into your ear, barely giving you a second to catch your breath before his fingers plunge into your cunt, your head falling back against his shoulders, a broken curse slipping past your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet. You’ve just been thinking of this, haven’t you?” Yunho curses, feeling your soft walls squeeze against his fingers whenever his fingers enter you on top of the pretty squelching sounds your pussy was making for him.

Yunho presses against your g-spot, and you jolt slightly, your legs spreading wider on instinct accompanied by another moan, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the two males.

Yunho’s suddenly fingers pull out and you’re ready to protest from the denial, until you feel something harder and thicker pressing against your spine. Shit.

Seonghwa unlocks your phone and taps on the timer app, filtering through numbers before he shifts the screen to your view.

“We’ll make you cum in seven minutes as compensation, Angel”, Seonghwa promises. He looks so confident too. “If we don’t, then you can do whatever you want with us.”

“But if we do, you’ll take back your words, and we’ll do whatever we want with you, with your consent of course”, Yunho adds.

Truthfully, the deal was a matter of pride rather than anything else, and you being sandwiched by your hot roommates on top of it? Just the cherry on top.

“Fine”, you agree, and Yunho, tips your chin to face him, lowering himself to press his lips on yours before passing you over to Seonghwa, who also seals the deal with a kiss.

“That’s a good girl”, Seonghwa hums, pressing his thumb against the corner of your lips. “Yunho should fuck you, right? Since he was the first person who caught your heat.”

“But he’s-“

“It’ll fit, dollface. I’ve seen the dildos you fuck yourself with. My dick will fit you just perfectly”, Yunho cuts you off, leaving your heart to slam against your chest.

Yunho lifts you up as he positions you right about his thick cock before he lowers you down, completely splitting you open as his cock fills you up all the fucking way, leaving your thoughts and sanity somewhere else by now.

“How are you feeling, Angel?” Seonghwa even has the courtesy to fucking ask. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, both from pleasure and pressure.

“So fuckin’ full. Fuck”, you mutter, your mind in a complete haze as you attempt to adjust to Yunho’s size. Seonghwa swallows hard at the way your pussy is just stretching to fit Yunho in plain sight before he starts the timer.

Then he lowers himself to your filled cunt, and licks up your clit, making you jerk.

Oh boy, these two are definitely about to drive you crazy.

Your head falls onto Yunho’s shoulders as you try to pace your breathing, but with Seonghwa at your cunt lapping your cream while Yunho has your pussy filled? It seemed like an impossible mission.

As Yunho fits into you, dragging against your walls and pressing dangerously close to your g-spot, Seonghwa’s slow and wet licks against your clit only stimulated and soaked you more to widen up to further fit in Yunho—now a complete cycle of hell of Seonghwa eating your pussy out making Yunho’s cock sit deeper in you which in turn made your clit all the more sensitive towards Seonghwa eating your cunt out. You were sure you wouldn’t last long at this rate.

A quick glance at the timer—two minutes had passed, and yet it felt like an eternity from how much stimulation you were getting. Soon enough, you were confident that time wouldn’t even exist as a whole.

Your body shudders in pleasure once more when Seonghwa licks another stripe up your cunt, trying to hold your composure, only for it to be broken down when Seonghwa’s wet lips suck on your clit, your mind blanking out from the sensation.

“Such a good fucking girl for us, y/n”, Yunho’s gentle voice barely registering in your head. He glances at the timer. “Four more minutes for us to break you. You know it’s okay to just let go and ruin your bedsheets right? We’ll wash them for you.” Jesus fucking Christ.

The numbers on the timer on your phone continue to descend agonisingly slow and the looming, ticklish feeling of an orgasm is just threatening to spill over at any moment. Your mind begins to drift off, shrouded in the mist of pleasure, with Yunho, low moans as the icing on the cake whenever he feels your walls squeeze around you, his praises sounding like a hymn.

Seonghwa switches between his tongue and fingers, the only denominator is him making sure to send you off the edge, casting his gorgeous eyes upwards to meet yours, watching your reactions like a hawk. The cream around the base of Yunho’s cock grows thicker every time he pulls out from your stretched hole.

At the sixth minute, you realise you are a lost cause—Seonghwa licking and grazing his fingertips against your wet clit while Yunho has his cock balls deep in you, hitting deep fucking spots in your cunt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”, you cry out, your eyes screwed shut, barely processing Yunho’s kisses down your neck as he stuffs you full once more. Seonghwa pulls back, licking your cream off his lips before they pull into a smirk, then making sure he overstimulates and sends your whole body into an orbit with his fingers on your clit. Stars scatter and burst into your eyelids, you barely were able to keep them open when your cum spurts out of you, alongside your cries about feeling so fucking good while you screamed both of Yunho's and Seonghwa’s names, diluting the cum from Yunho who fills you up warm seconds after.

Both men watch you unravel in complete awe and adoration. They should have done this sooner if they knew your cunt would be this fucking good.

“Six minutes and fifteen seconds”, Seonghwa brings up your phone with a smile. “You did fare pretty well, Angel.”

He lifts you off Yunho’s cock, his cum trickling past your trembling inner thighs, and Yunho groans from the sensitivity, giving his wet cock a couple of pumps. You were not in any position to complain, not when your body is barely recovering from your high, because you’re on your stomach, facing Yunho’s thick cock, your eyes rolling back once more when you feel Seonghwa’s cock stretching you open once more. Your face buried in the sheets, your fist digging into the fabric, your ass automatically lifting to accommodate Seonghwa.

“Fuck. You’re still so fucking tight, Angel. Were you waiting for me to fuck you next? You’re just begging for me to fuck Yunho’s cum out of you, aren’t you?”

You could only muster a weak whine of Seonghwa’s name before Yunho’s cock gently taps on your cheek. You look up at Yunho, your eyes completely glazed out, realising your mouth suddenly feeling very empty.

As Seonghwa slides his cock out of you, your phone suddenly lights up, the vibration catching both boys’ attention. Yunho glances over and cocks an eyebrow when he sees the caller ID flash across the screen. He looks over at Seonghwa who catches his eye, then nods to his older friend to pick up the call. Seonghwa reaches over, even as he’s still fucking his cock in you, and slides answer.

“Hey.”

“Hello? Seonghwa Hyung? Isn’t this y/n’s phone?”

Seonghwa glances down at you, ass still bouncing off his fat cock while taking Yunho’s cock in your mouth, your body twitching from time to time on top trying to fit Yunho in your mouth.

“Y/n’s not available right now. She’s a little…preoccupied.”

There’s a pause for a moment.

“O-oh. ‘Cause I was meaning to talk to her about the ex-girlfriend thing and-“

“H-Hwa”, you whimper, feeling your brain short-circuiting every time his hips snap against yours, feeling your brain up with nothing but just cock. Seonghwa returns your look with nothing less than affection before he bothers to focus back on his friend’s endless amount of excuses for acting like a piece of shit.

“You don’t need to anymore, dude.”

“What? Wait I don’t-“

Seonghwa smirks into the phone. “She’s not interested anymore—Ah fuck, that’s it Angel.”

“What the fuck is going on there?!”

Seonghwa only chuckles in reply, hitting the loudspeaker for Yunho to reply him, “Don’t worry about y/n, she’s well taken care of. Better than however the fuck you did, that’s for sure.” Yunho strokes your jaw, encouraging you to fit more of him in your mouth, biting back a curse when look up at him with doe eyes, spit and precum just coating his cock every time you bob your head.

“We definitely need a little talk when we see you. Until then, maybe learn to fuck better”, Seonghwa adds, before disconnecting the line, ignoring the sudden myriad of messages barging and spamming your inbox from said male. Well, you were busy.

Seonghwa’s attention snaps back to you once more when he feels your cunt squeeze around him, and the way your pussy is just endlessly creaming on his cock is just driving Seonghwa closer to his high, partnered with the obscene sounds bouncing off the walls he knew his fraternity brother definitely heard.

“That’s a good fucking girl. You’re doing so well for me. Fuck. I’m gonna cum. So fucking close, Angel”, Seonghwa hisses, his thrusts becoming more erratic, cock mindlessly hitting deeper spots of your poor cunt before he feels you completely let go and cum right on his cock as well, his warm cum filling up your cunt.

Yunho isn’t faring any better, his eyes are glazed out at the way your throat is closing around his cock every time he slips it in, and when your eyes roll back with your mouth covering the entirety of his cock, clenching him again at the back of your throat, Yunho can’t help but cum down your tight pretty throat with a strangled groan, along with praises of you taking his cock like his good little girl, and how you’re taking all of his cum so well, which only makes your mind buzz with pleasure on top of both of your holes being filled up.

Yunho jerks back slightly on instinct from the overstimulation, before his hands cup your jaw to assist you pull out. Cum dribbles down the corner of your lips from your futile attempt to swallow it all, but Yunho simply grabs a handful of tissues for you to spit in should you need to. Then his lips press onto your forehead, his voice like honey in your ears as he praises you for taking him and Seonghwa.

Seonghwa on the other hand, had pulled out of you, swallowing hard as his cum mixed with Yunho’s seeps past your folds, dripping onto his half hard cock. Seonghwa thinks he could go another round, but not now. The thought of ruining your pussy over and over again is definitely the most enticing to him, but he makes mental note to delete and block the twat’s number on your phone while you go wash up.

The exhaustion is slowly kicking into your body, considering you’ve never been fucked this good, but Yunho insists to wash you up before you rest in either one of their rooms, which you don’t put up much of a fight against, considering the state of you right now.

Yunho, slightly displeased that Seonghwa insisted on snuggling on his bed as well, the three of you sharing Yunho’s bed, with you in the middle. As Seonghwa combs through your hair with his fingers, you suddenly remember the phone call.

You look up to both of them and ask, “Who called just now?” Evidently, you were so deep into your pleasure that who called didn’t even register in your mind, the faint memory of the dull vibration of your phone being the only thing you recall.

Yunho and Seonghwa exchange glances before their eyes shoot back to you. Yunho forces a smile and Seonghwa continues to stroke your head, slowly lulling you into an exhausted slumber.

“No one important. Someone we can thank for being able to compensate you, darling”, are the last words you barely process before you fall asleep in their arms.

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simonrillleyyysss · 3 months

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angel🪽! reader meeting simon😇

the 141 discover a real life angel – wings, halo, and an ethereal singing voice! simon is dirty sinner who wants to receive your “blessing”. pls! it’s your heavenly duty baby girl🥺

simon has a big corruption kink cuz he’s like that

I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS IDEA!!!

cw; darkish content, coercion, slight manipulation, corruption kink, breeding kink, minor religious ideology, minor mentions of pregnancy, implied catholic reader but idrc, p in v, squirting

“What is she?”

“Dinnae’, pretty wee’ thing though.”

Mactavish crooned, reaching out to stroke a ginger along your feathered wings.

“Lads, leave her alone.”

The bearded man ordered, waving the blondehaired man over with a slack hand, the behemoth of a man stepping over to your cowering frame, slinging his arm around yours and gently assisting you up.

“Bring her to a spare room—We’ll find out who she is soon.”

Without a complaint, Simon gently tugged you along—Watching you struggle to find your footing, almost tripping over yourself—Glancing up at the man with fearful eyes.

“Where are you taking me, sir?”

Silence, before he glanced down at you with narrowed eyes; staring, just staring. Before he eventually spoke up.

“What are y’?”

The low accent enquired, your lips parting in mild confusion, gently murmuring out with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

“Gods servant.”

Chuckling, the man just shook his head and glanced forward, unlocking the bedroom door and navigating you inside; standing in front of the closed door now.

“Y’need anything, just call.”

And with that, he was gone.

The next few days were calm for you, essentially, Mactavish and Garrick often visited you to chat and ask you questions. Play with your wings and decorate your halo, helping you preen your wings.

Price helped you with everything—Clothes, necessities, even helped you get set up with a local church and attempted to find you your own apartment.

Ghost? He just brought you everywhere. Literal guardian angel, you wanted to go out for a walk? He’s following behind you like a dog, arms crossed and boots stomping against the ground. And as time passed, you grew closer to him.

You helped him pray, taught him how to properly bless himself, assisted him with small tasks, blessed him before any mission—Small or safe, long or dangerous. You forgave him, for all of his previous sins.

He was still sinful.

Simon still laid in his cot, hand stroking his cock furiously—grumbling and hissing through his teeth, hips arching up and off of the bedsheets, cum spurting along his abdomen, spilling down to his pubic hair.

Simon still fucked his pillow, like a dirty, hormonal teenager—Thinking of the way your unused cunt would clench and stretch around the length of his dick, how he would ruin you for yourself, and your beliefs. Your purpose.

Make you faithful to him, not god.

When he’s knocking on your door, it’s not a surprise—Your fluffing your wings before he walks in, glancing down at you.

“Hi, Si!”

“You alright?”

“M’fine.. Just wanna pray for a bit.”

Nodding, you patted the side of your bed, watching the man sink into it comfily, placing a hand on his thigh.

You’re so gorgeous, the way your soft eyes looked up at him with mild adoration, the way your lips parted softly as you whispered soft prayers, fingers clenched together, he couldn’t help but feel his cock harden at the sight of you, chewing on his cheek.

He couldn’t help himself, he wrapped a hand around your waist, yanking you into him—listening to your soft little squeak, eyes widening.

“Simon?”

“I had a dream, last night.”

He grumbled, glancing down at you with faux worry.

“A vision, even.”

“Meant to have your blessing, worship you.”

The blonde coerced you into sitting atop his lap, kneading at the flesh of your ass gently; lips suckling on the untainted skin of your neck, cross between your cleavage glistening at him.

“..Blessing?”

“S’yr duty, love.. God sent y’down here fr’ me, sent you here to create the purest kind..

To save sinners like me.”

Within seconds, he was pulling you into a sloppy, openmouthed kiss—rough fingers tearing your clothes apart, palms squishing your bare breasts together, rolling the buds of your nipples over his thumb.

“Do all of yr’ kind walk around, tits out? Think you wanted this attention..”

It was all moving too fast, your wings fluttered slightly, lips parted and eyes wide with soft concern as your palms rested against his chest.

“Are you—“

A soft whimper interrupted your voice as the man beneath you lapped at your perky tits, letting out soft groans.

“Are you sure we’re meant to do this?”

“This feels unholy..”

Simon shook his head, slapping your ass tantalisingly, grinding his aching cock into your clothed cunt, listening to your quiet mewl.

“God told me, told me in prayers.. Soon as I seen yr’ pretty face, I knew it.”

He knew this was wrong, he knew manipulating this little thing into seduction was horrible, but how could he stop now?

He’d never stop, that’s what he told himself as he slid his digits into your tight cunt, tears streaking your cheeks, crying out at the painful stretch, but how could he stop? The way your hips met his hand in mutual thrusts, the way you squirted all over the bedsheets with a drawn out moan, the way your toes curled into the bed from pleasure.

How could he stop?

He couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop when your cross bounced atop your tits, couldn’t stop when you begged him to slow down—his cock battering your pussy like it owed him money, couldn’t stop when you prayed beneath your breath for god to forgive you.

Wouldn’t stop.

“That’s it—Fffuuucckk..—What would the lord think do you? Being wrecked by a dirty sinners cock..”

“Your first cock, your only—christ— cock.”

“Simon—ahah!mngghh.. s’too much!”

Each word from him was emphasised by a swift slap to your clit, his lips worshipping your body like a temple—His temple, he’d pray to you every night—Fill your tummy up with his offspring, make you his goddess , never listen to anyone but the woman carrying his fertile seed, the woman who he was currently cumming inside with soft pants, kissing the nape of your neck with soft praise.

Acts surprised when your tummy starts to swell with his baby a few weeks later.

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undiscovered-horizon · 5 months

Text

(tw for mentions of nudity)

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[After days of travelling, fighting and sleeping on rocks, a rest at a tavern is well-earned. Not feeling up to taste the nightlife with your friends, Gale and you retire early. The evening turns into something heartfelt and domestic as you wash his hair and hum a song he's grown all too familiar with.]

As much as Gale loves to be in the centre of your attention, it flusters him. He's grown so used to being the one doting and worshipping that he's quite unsure what to do once the roles are reversed. Is he supposed to gratefully acknowledge your efforts? Or sit twiddling his thumbs, taking whatever you give him?

How does one take affection?, he wonders in the back of his head.

The party downstairs is virtually inaudible to Gale as his mind is focused solely on the tender caress of your hands. The soap suds feel as though they transcend his skin and wash his very spirit clean. Or perhaps that's just what being loved feels like. His back is leisurely leaning against your chest. In some distant fantasy of his, you are reborn as his guardian angel.

I sowed rue in four little gardens In the fifth, I sowed periwinkle for you, Johnny

Your low singing is ringing in his ears the same way the church bell's toll is ringing in the ears of a saint - calling towards home. Gale shivers as your breath, like a ghost of love once cherished, brushes against his hot skin. The soothing sound of your voice is all too fleeting to him. If he could only grab it and bask in it any time he wishes to. Perhaps, if your place was among the stars in the night sky...?

Rue, my rue, I sowed you in the early morning I sowed you happily; grow tall, rue

He sighs, feeling your fingers tug gently at his hair. Whether you're washing it or rinsing, he's not entirely sure. The moment your fingers dragged against his skin, your nails scratched at his scalp, Gale allowed himself to drift into a comfortable limbo - somewhere between sleep and wake, between dream and reality. It is only by the melody of this song you so often sing to yourself that he can be sure he is alive and well. Otherwise, given the inexplicable lightness of his spirit, Gale might have thought he'd died and gone to wherever he deserved to spend his afterlife.

I sowed you, rue, in a wide bed I thought to myself that Johnny might come

Speaking of death: as the saying goes, 'curiosity killed the cat' and Gale, by his nature, can not help himself but die again and again.

"Not that I don't enjoy your little habit," he breaks the silence in a groggy, sleepy voice, "it's quite adorable if I may say so, but do indulge me: what is this song you're singing? I've never heard it before."

"It's a wedding song," you murmur your answer. Gale's breath hitches as he feels your lips stroke the conch of his ear. "In my hometown, there's this tradition of making newlyweds wade through the dancing guests to reach each other. If they manage to hold hands before the song ends, the Gods bless them and they shall be inseparable from that day on. It's weird how..." you hang your voice and sigh heavily, "no matter."

But Gale is quick to dismiss your silly belief that there is something uninteresting about your thoughts. "Whatever is on your mind, I long to hear it." The pleasing tone of his voice is more meaningful than the wizard's actual words.

For a moment, your careful movements come to a halt. He could, of course, protest the sudden lack of soft tugging at his hair or the pleasant scratching of his scalp but all complaints dissipate as Gale feels you resting your chin on top of his shoulder. "When I was younger, just a filly, I thought about the day I would get to nudge my way through the guests," you recall with both sadness and fondness in your voice, "but now I worry whether I will get to see the break of dawn. Odd how life can get."

He wishes to say something suave, to weave sultry words with skill comparable to Astarion's. Alas, he's too overly aware of your naked form glued to his back and your arms casually wrapped around his stomach. Yet again, Gale is flustered. "Oh, I'm no stranger to twisted and, frankly unfathomable, paths of life," he says, feigning glibness. "Having said that, you've managed to survive things most can't even dream of. If I were you, I wouldn't cross a wedding game off the list just yet."

No answer comes from you - at least not a vocal answer. You place a soft peck on top of his shoulder before going back to washing his hair and relishing in the song that reminds you of home.

The rue is withered but Johnny's not here When Sunday comes, I will be dressing up

Considering he has enough explosive energy inside him to level a city, wading through the mob of wedding guests shouldn't be a challenge. Although, if Karlach and Lae'zel are also invited...

But the doubt in Gale's mind doesn't let such fantasies go too far. First of all, would you even want to? Would you actually stand before him and proclaim to the entire world that you will love him for better or worse? As much as he believes you every time you profess your love to him, the longer he wonders about the proverbial 'until death do us part', the more he grows unsure. Because, honestly, out of all the people you've met on your travels, why would it be him? The man who famously makes bad decisions in the name of love?

Rue, my rue, grow green, rue I will cut you on an early Sunday morning

The thing that happens then leaves Gale even more confused about his own feelings and the matter of accepting affection:

You've finished washing his hair, taking your sweet time admiring the streaks of grey. Leaning back, you gently pull him along. His head falls back into the crook of your neck. If Gale had just slightly less self-control, he would have squealed when you kissed his neck and tightened your embrace around his midsection. You're holding him like a toddler holds their favourite stuffed toy and it's... nice.

Thinking about your trapping hug, Gale suddenly remembers something he wanted to share. "Did you know that a periwinkle is also called a Vinca, which means 'to bind'?"

A light-hearted chuckle rumbles in your chest. "Then I better sow a garden full of them for you."

_____

Halsin's version right here!!

(tagging those who shouted, y'all are the pillars of society: @cakenpiewhyohmy @hairlessgoblin @lillithhearts @day-dreaming-goddess @nico-ith @cakeboxie )

Your prayers have been heard!!!! (As though I didn't start writing this immediately after posting Halsin's version)

Changed the song at the last second because my former choice was a little too upbeat for the setting ("Jeleń" by Sutari, if y'all are curious)

#gale x reader #gale x you #gale x tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale of waterdeep bg3 #gale of waterdeep fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #bg3 x you #gale dekarios fanfiction #gale dekarios fanfic

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jals-stuff · 12 days

Note

OKOK i just wanted to make sure you didn’t have too many before requesting ^-^

Could you do an Orter one shot of him being caught showing affection to his lover, like maybe by his brother wirth :3 I just need soft Orter so bad!!

Of course, no worries~

I like angst better but a bit of fluff from time to time is definitely nice! There are a lot of requests going on right now for some reason

word count: 1.2k

note: not proofread and written with 0 hours of sleep, sorry about any typos and such, I hope you'll like it

Take a break!

It's been a week since Orter’s workload started skyrocketing and as much as he loved you, he also needed to take care of his work. Of course, being a Divine Visionary comes with intriguing, interesting missions, amazing adventures, new landscapes to explore�� but good gods, the unending amount of paperwork...

He's been coming home late for a while now and there were even times when he slept in his office so he could start filling his workload first thing in the morning. Quite honestly, it pissed you off.

You weren't, per se, mad at Orter, but at the situation; he was just accepting it without any complaints and it made you sick to know that the love of your life was working himself to exhaustion everyday.

Plus you really missed him a lot. The only breaks he’d take during the day are the few minutes he gives himself to call you, check on you and apologise in advance for not coming home that night.

Since Orter wasn't going to come to you, you decided you'd come to him!

You entered the immense building and looked around the entrance hall for a minute before you were met with Ryoh’s usual sparkling expression and the Magia Lupus. You took a few steps towards him and gave a polite smile.

“Good day, Ryoh, what's happening here?”

“Oh, hello (Y/N), nothing much. Bless Minister just wants to see the Lang students who were involved in the puppets incident.”

He then eyed you for a second, taking note of the basket you were carrying and your worried expression. A chuckle escaped him and he waved at you to follow him.

“I’m guessing you came to see Orter, am I right? He's been working a lot,” Ryoh sighs as he leads you to your man’s office. “I hope you'll manage to help him take a break.”

You stood there for a bit before knocking on his door and entering when he allowed you to. He was still looking at his paperwork when you entered, and didn't notice who was paying him a visit.

You gently put the basket down on top of his desk and leaned forwards. “Special delivery today.”

He looked up and his expression immediately softened, though he did look kind of rough with such messy hair and dark undereyes. You walked around his desk and he stood up, his arms wrapping comfortably around your figure as he gave your forehead a kiss.

“What brings you here, darling? Is everything alright?”

You held him harder against you and sighed with a nod. Of course now it was fine, you had missed his embrace so so much, and you could tell he did too.

“Everything’s alright now. I just miss you a lot, you know?”

He gave a soft sigh as one of his hands came to caress the back of your head gently in an attempt to comfort you. Tightening his arms slightly around you, he leaned forwards and gave your lips a gentle kiss.

“I miss you too, dear, but I have a lot of work here as you can see.”

Disappointed but not surprised. You turned your mouth into a pout and groaned in frustration as you nuzzled your head against his chest. It wasn't his fault but… just… ugh! You pulled away from the hug and took a few biscuits and a warm thermos of coffee out of your basket, placing them in front of him.

“I know… but you need to take a little break now. Please, for me?”

He sighed with a very faint, barely visible smile. Had he not been your lover, you would've thought it was just his usual expression, but with time, you had learned to recognise the way he smiles. Orter couldn't say no to your plea and so he sat back down and allowed himself to stop working for a bit.

“May I stay with you while you work, love? I promise I won't interrupt.” You asked, looking at him like a lost puppy, begging to be taken home. Still sitting, he extended an arm for you to come closer to him, only to suddenly pull you in his lap when you did.

Your side was against his chest and he had one of his arms behind your back, gently caressing it as he pressed yet another kiss on your forehead. With a soft exhale, you nuzzled your face into his neck as he kept silently working and occasionally sipping on the coffee you'd brought him.

And just as you promised, you were silent, and didn't interrupt his work even once. He would occasionally look at your face and ask if you're comfortably seated, or rest his head against yours while he thinks.

He finished one of his unending files and closed it, stretching his arms and allowing himself to breathe for a little while, looking down at you with a soft, relaxed expression; a contrast to his exhausted appearance earlier.

“Aren't you exhausted?” You asked with a hint of worry as you ran your hand through his hair to try and make him look less feral. He placed his fingers on your cheek and raised his eyebrows at you.

“I am. But I have the best vitamins to keep me going.”

And without warning he just pressed his lips on yours, this time a little harder than before as you kissed back with your arms around his neck. As soon as the kiss was over, he gave you another one, and another one, and he kissed his way down your jaw while his hand affectionately rubbed your side.

You kissed back more passionately and sighed softly into his lips when his door shot open, a tall figure wearing a Lang coat barging in. Now of all times.

“I thought the puppet incident had been taken care of already, why am I still- what.”

You had nothing against Wirth; he was a rather kind young man when you weren't on his bad side, but right now you wanted to rip his head off. Orter’s lips left yours and it infuriated you. His brother was absolutely not used to this sort of display, and he stood there, flabbergasted.

Of course, it was just some innocent cuddling because you and him missed each other a lot when he was at work but from someone else's perspective… His hair was messy, his tie heavily needed to be fixed and his clothes hadn't been ironed in a while, so…

“I’ll just- um. Yeah.”

Wirth looked like he had seen a ghost and although it was obvious what he thought he had interrupted, Orter chose not to deny or explain.

“Yes, it would be preferable.” Orter said, not even sparing a glance at his brother, his eyes still deeply staring into yours. You would've thought he'd be embarrassed- and he was, but his physical need to hold you and cover you in kisses took over.

He brought your head closer to his and kissed you again, deeply as he sighed into your mouth and you couldn't help but absolutely fold and kiss back again. Wirth didn't know if he should be glad for him or terrified with how hungry his brother looked at the moment.

One thing was certain, he took the right decision when he left, because a few minutes later, you were laid on top of Orter's desk like some kind of homework he was just about to do.

#mashle x reader #orter madl #orter mádl #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle orter madl #orter mádl x reader #orter x reader #mashle orter

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inflorescnce · 4 months

Text

"They have nothing on you."

pairing : Luke Castellan x daughter of hypnos! Reader setting and time : Camp Half-blood, june 2006

warnings/content : fluff summary: in which luke only has eyes for you. word count : 2,374

authors note : This is my first time actually writing a fanfic, so this may just be very bad. My writing style also may be all over the place, I just haven't found one I like yet 😿

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

You looked up to where the voice was coming from, only to be met with the face of your best friend, Alyssa. She was wearing a really cute sparkly dress, one that fit her perfectly.

“Don’t want to go,” you shrugged, your voice the same sleepy tone as it always was. But that comes with being the daughter of the god of sleep. Alyssa rolled her eyes before grabbing your arm and dragging you out of bed.

“Absolutely not; you are getting dressed, and we are going to that party.”

Before you could protest, you were already in the Athena cabin. “It’s not everyday we get to have a party here, and you want to spend it sleeping? sometimes I really dont get you.”

Alyssa was going through her closet, presumedly trying to find a dress for you to wear.

“It’s not my fault my dad is the actual god of sleep.” You groan. “And why should I even go to this party? I’m not a party person at all. You know that.”

“Because,” Alyssa turned to look at me. “He will be there”

“As if that means something, you really think out of all the girls he could pick at camp, he would pick me?”

“Well you’ll never know if you dont go” Alyssa finally seemed to have found something, and she turned to me once again. “put this on,” She was holding a dark grey mini dress.

You knew there was no use in arguing with her, if you said no she would probably put it on you herself. Reluctantly, you got up and changed. The dress fit a like glove, it was at times like this being the same size as your best friend was a livesaver. Alyssa gave a small clap when you went to show her how you looked in the dress and after that she spent almost 30 minutes doing your hair and make-up.

“You look so beautiful” Alyssa hugged you from behind, using the mirror to look at you “Luke would be an idiot if he didn’t think so too”

The amphitheatre transformed it to the perfect party spot, with tables full of drinks and foods and speakers blasting Rihanna and Eminem. You and Alyssa were sitting on the stone benches a few steps up, talking to a few apollo kids. You tried to listen to what they were talking about but you just couldn’t, not when he was there.

Standing in the middle of the dance floor was Luke Castellan, son of hermes. You’ve had a crush on him for almost three years now. But you’ve never told him about it, which was getting harder everyday as you had to see him every morning walking around the hermes cabin shirtless in search for his camp shirt that he had once again lost. Being the child of a minor god meant that you didnt have your own cabin, so you stayed in the hermes cabin with all the other minor god children. You had no complaints though, being able to see Luke come out of the bathrooms with wet hair, wearing only a towel was an absolute blessing. You were snapped out of your trance by Dahlia, your other best friend.

“oh my god ‘lyssa actually did it, you’re here” she faked a surprised voice before letting out a laugh “want to get a drink?”

You nodded before standing up, you wanted to aks Alyssa to come with you, but she was to busy talking to one of the apollo boys, so you just let her be.

You and Dahlia chatted about nothing and everything while walking to the drinks table.

“Have you seen clarisse’s dress?” Dahlia said while stuffing her mouth full with chips. She didn’t wait for you to awnser “I’m going to talk to her” and again without waiting for you to awnser, she walks away.

“Atleast someone has balls” You mutter under your breath. “Now what to drink?”

“I’d go for the grape juice, closest thing to wine we’ll get” A voice from behind starteld you.

You turned around to that Luke was standing behind you.

Your heart fluttered and the breath caught in your throat, leaving you momentarily gasping for air. The fairy lights above highlighted Luke's mischievous smile, his eyes twinkling with a carefree joy that only someone like Hermes' son could have. His suggestion about grape juice brought a wave of laughter that released the tension you didn't know you were holding.

"Definitely," you replied, managing to keep your voice steady. "You can never go wrong with the classics, right?" You filled two cups with the juice and offered one to Luke. He accepted it with a nod, his fingers briefly brushing against yours.

The music changed then, transitioning from fast-paced Rihanna and Eminem songs to a slower, more enchanting tune that seemed to wrap around each person like silk threads, pulling them towards the dance floor. Couples began pairing off, swaying in a rhythm that was both timeless and new.

"Would you like to dance?" Luke asked formally, extending his hand towards you.

You were taken aback by the unexpected offer. It felt surreal, as if you had stepped into one of those dream sequences where everything fell perfectly into place according to your deepest desires. But this was real; it was Luke standing before you, waiting for your response. For a moment, you hesitated, the years of hiding your feelings for him weighing heavily on your decision. Then, without thinking, you placed your hand in his and felt a spark ignite within you that threatened to consume your entire being.

Following Luke's lead, you stepped onto the dance floor and felt your heart pounding against your chest. As the music swelled around you, the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a sea of soft light and shadows. Luke moved with confidence but also with a gentle touch, as if he knew the power of every step they took together.

Your hands found their place on his shoulders, radiating warmth from the summer heat, while his settled lightly on your waist. The closeness between you sent waves of warmth throughout your body, reminiscent of evenings spent around bonfires and secrets whispered under starry skies.

The way Luke looked at you - with a sense of truly seeing you for the first time - melted away any uncertainty that had been building up over time. In his gaze, you were no longer just another pretty face among all the others at camp; you were the sole focus of his attention.

Your breath caught as he leaned in close, his breath tickling your ear. "You know," he murmured amidst the music, his voice rumbling softly, "I've always thought you were the best dancer out here."

A shy laugh escaped your lips. "Me? You must have me confused with one of the Apollo kids. They practically have rhythm flowing through their veins."

"Nah," Luke replied with a grin, spinning you effortlessly before pulling you back into his arms. "They have nothing on you."

In that moment, the world seemed to pause and catch its breath. His words were a ray of sunlight, piercing through the dense foliage of doubts and fears. A blush spread across your cheeks, feeling as though an artist had painted them with shades of warmth.

"Come on," you playfully retorted, trying to maintain composure despite the fluttering in your chest. "You must have been struck by Cupid's arrow to be saying such sweet things."

"Maybe I was," Luke shot back, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Or maybe I've just found the courage to speak what's been on my mind for some time now."

"And what's that?" You couldn't help but ask, curiosity mingling with hope like vines creeping up an old stone wall.

Luke's smile softened and he leaned back slightly, relishing in the intensity of your gaze that made the background noise of the party fade away. His voice lowered to a whisper, filled with a sincerity that sent shivers down your spine.

"That you, my dear dance partner," he began, "are the most captivating person I've ever met. Not because of how you move on the dance floor or how your laughter brings joy to those around you. But because when I look at you—I see home."

A surge of emotions washed over you, like a warm blanket on a cold night. It felt as though every secret glance and unspoken conversation had led to this one moment in time.

"Luke, I—"

As you spoke, he placed a gentle finger on your lips, silencing you but igniting a deeper conversation through his touch. "Shh," he whispered with a playful yet sincere tone. "No need for words right now. Let's just…dance."

And so you did.

The music enveloped you like a vine as you danced together, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you amidst a sea of beating hearts and rhythmic feet. The lights above cast a warm glow on your union, creating an intimate atmosphere. You moved to the rhythm of an ancient dance, swaying as if on gently swelling ocean waves.

His eyes never left yours, reflecting the twinkling stars in the night sky. In this dance, all your hesitations vanished and were replaced by newfound courage. Your fingers tightened on his shoulders, anchoring yourself to the moment.

Eventually, the song ended and the crowd erupted into applause for the band's final bow. But their noise was nothing compared to the symphony that played in your hearts.

He smiled mischievously at you, sparks of adventure lighting up his features. "Come with me," he said, barely audible over the cheers and clapping.

Without waiting for your response, Luke took your hand and led you through the crowd of dancers and out into the tranquil night. The cool air brushed against your skin, contrasting with the warmth still lingering from his touch. You followed him eagerly, barely touching the pebbled path as anticipation fluttered within you like a captured butterfly.

The moon hung like a silver coin in the sky, casting its ethereal glow on everything below. The world was transformed, familiar objects taking on a magical quality – trees becoming silhouettes guarding secrets and the lake turning into a pool of liquid silver.

Reaching the edge of the lake, Luke didn't pause. He took off his shoes and rolled up his pants before looking at you expectantly. Without speaking, you did the same, feeling the cool grass under your feet and then the shock of cold as your toes touched the water.

In unspoken agreement, you walked hand in hand into the lake, its surface parting around your ankles and sending ripples through the water. The sound of pebbles tumbling underfoot created a symphony just for the two of you. As you moved deeper into the lake's embrace, it hummed around your knees, beckoning you to dance.

Luke's hand was warm and steady in yours as you both paused to take in the beauty of the world from within the heart of the lake. It was a breathtaking sight - the moonlight shimmering on the water, starlight seemingly captured beneath the surface. Your reflections were side by side, two souls intertwined in a nightly masterpiece.

Turning towards you, Luke's eyes mirrored the galaxy above, full of mysteries and silent promises. Your breaths mingled with the misty air as he stepped closer, closing the gap between you until there were only inches separating your bodies. In his gaze was an unspoken question, an invitation to a place where time couldn't touch you.

The answer was already clear to you, like a flower blooming in your heart. You felt a magnetic pull towards Luke, one that seemed to defy the laws of gravity and connect you two in a way that redefined nature.

You met him halfway, your previous shyness melting away in his presence. His hands fit perfectly on your waist, as if they were meant to be there since the beginning of time. The world faded into the background, leaving only this moment between the two of you.

Your heart beat with an intensity matching the crashing waves against the shore. As Luke's eyes locked with yours, you saw all of your feelings reflected back at you—a depth that could never be captured by words alone.

As the air stirred and the light shimmered, every breath between your lips seemed to dance in anticipation. And when he turned his face towards yours, it was as though the stars had aligned to bring you together, destined for this moment.

At first, the kiss was tender, like a feather's touch or the gentle caress of moonlight on earth. But as your lips moved in unison, tenderness gave way to a surge of passion that pulsed through your body. Your urgent response matched his own, your bodies pressing together as if trying to meld into one being under the glow of the moon above.

In the stillness of the night, time paused, allowing the world to witness the union of two hearts. The cool water around your knees could not quell the fire ignited by Luke's kiss. It was a kiss that fulfilled longings, broke barriers and crumbled walls in a silent surrender.

You gently placed your hands on his cheeks, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath your thumbs. A smile spread across your lips as you felt him return the gesture. Slowly, reluctantly, you both pulled away and rested your foreheads against each other, trying to catch your breath. Each exhale was a shudder of pleasure; each inhale was a silent vow.

The stillness surrounding you was profound, broken only by the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the distant sounds of celebration fading into the night. In Luke's embrace, with the cool water caressing your skin and the moonlight highlighting his features, it became clear that this was more than just a temporary escape or a fleeting entertainment. This moment—it was an awakening.

"Look at us," Luke whispered softly into the night air, "dancing under the moon in a lake like something out of a romantic fairy tale."

Divider by cafekitsune

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #fanfic #romantic #this probably sucks

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mountainficss · 2 months

Note

How about edging and overstim sub Shua? i wonder how he'd react to it, I bet he looks so pretty :(

ugh shua is so pretty and sweet ;( i feel like he’d be so well behaved omg.

i think he’d take everything you give him with no complaints. he’s just a sweet boy, he’d be so thankful for you even being in the same room as him. he’d love when you edge him, stroking his throbbing erection for hours on end. he’d just feel so warm and turned on when he feels your hand around his length ;( doesn’t even care if you don’t let him cum right away, just loves feeling the slow slick drag of your hand on his cock. might even beg for you to edge him honestly, because he knows the orgasm you give him will be so much more powerful if you continue to edge him. and when you finally sink down onto his cock? oh he’ll absolutely lose it. feels like he’s gonna cum even though you’re barely moving, and can’t help but let out pathetic whimpers as you circle your hips. you’d lift yourself slowly and drop down harshly back onto his length. the sound of your skin colliding with his would drive him insane, he’d end up rolling his eyes back as you ride him. he’d feel like he was in heaven, that you were blessing him with your tight heat and your alluring body. and oh he’d cum so much inside of you, and even though he’s sooo overstimulated he’d still beg and plead for you to keep going </3 you’d be a little worried about him but you’d continue to use him, the sound of his needy moans filling the room. he’d try to roll his hips up into yours and meet your thrusts because the overstimulation hurts so good. his face would be so flushed and his hair would be all messy by the time you finish with him ;( god he’d be the cutest ever.

taglist: @imprettyweird , @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @c-hanniehae , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes

#thoughts #seventeen smut #seventeen #smut #svt smut #sub!idol #joshua hong #joshua #seventeen joshua #hong jisoo #svt #mountainficss

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spacebarbarianweird · 2 months

Note

Hi! I love your headcanons and fics! Can I request Astarion and a Tav that is a follower of Bahamuth the platinum dragon? Could it be a Paladin, a Cleric or a Sorcerer?

Oh, this is a nice idea! I've already made Cleric of Selûne! Tav and Cleric of Latander!Tav - time to see rare gods!

Bahamut, the Platinum Dragon is the deity of good-aligned dragons and metallic dragons, being considered the first of their kind. He is a sworn enemy of Tiamat, the Scaled Tyrant, who is the queen of the chromatic dragons.

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Cleric of Bahamuth!Tav

You are forced into marriage when you were fifteen.

A common practice in your area but that doesn't make it any less awful.

Your husband, a man who has buried three wives before you, is eager to consummate the marriage.

You barely remember the first wedding night and the nights that follow.

Only pain, beatings, and humiliation.

So you decide to run.

Your husband's people have been hunting you like a doe until one day you met a monk.

The monk fight your husband's people with his bare hands.

You are free but for how long.

He is powerful. He is vindictive. He is unforgiving.

You beg the monk to take you with him and he agrees.

You spend a year learning under his training - he is a wise man, kind and intelligent.

He teaches you the ways of magic and secret knowledge of dragons.

You assist him in his travels and help the less fortunate.

One day, he reveals his true form to you.

He is Bahamuth, the god of good-aligned dragons, who prefers to live with mortals.

Оnce the initial shock wears off, you swear your allegiance to him.

The Dragon God makes you his priest, a cleric of the light domain.

Bahamut does not demand anything from you except that you be a good person - otherwise he receives his blessings from you. That is all. You are not obliged to obey him.

As your first mission, you are asked to go to Baldur's Gate and help people who suffer from the Absolute cult but on the way to the city you are kidnapped.

You manage to unite people around you - you strike hope in your companions.

Even in Astarion, though, he will never admit it.

He mocks your religion and your faith but you are patient and, with time, he becomes more accepting.

You don't how to react to his confession - the forced marriage and matrimonial rape made a mental block in your head.

You don't know how to love.

But you know how to care and, gods, Astarion needs a dragon to be saved from his misery.

Your relationship is rather asexual - you both aren't sure you ever want to have sex.

You destroy his master with Flamestrike and Daylight.

In the graveyard, you both forget all your traumas - and spend a night in each other's arms.

In the middle of the acts you almost get arrested for public misconduct but you make a fuss showing your cleric symbols.

It's not like the poor guardian knows Bahamut doesn't require having sex on the cemetery.

With the tadpole gone, you are adamant about finding Astarion a cure.

Not just an ability to walk in the sun, but the cure.

Bahamuth must know how to do that but you can't contact him though you feel his presence.

You and Astarion decide to travel through Faerun.

With time, Astarion accepts your faith. Sometimes he prays with you and he always listens to your theological lectures.

Unfortunately, when there is a vampire, there is a monster hunter.

Astarion is killed - and his body turns to ashes.

You are devastated.

It's unfair.

You deny Bahamuth and spend a year doing everything he despises.

Murders, debauchery, crimes.

One morning you wake in a dungeon cell with a very familiar monk as your cellmate.

Bahamuth listens to your cries and complaints and... ask to forgive him.

He is a god. A dragon. He doesn't understand mortals.

You ask him to return you Astarion and he agrees.

Besides, he's wanted to pay a visit to Hells a long time ago.

He keeps his promise - Astarion is back. Bahamuth says he is going to the Astral Sea and you will probably not meet again in your mortal life.

When Astarion opens his eyes, you are too busy cradling him in your arms to notice something is off.

His eyes are green and his skin isn't that pale.

There is a beating heart in his chest and he breathes.

A resurrected vampire is a mortal.

He needs time to get used to his mortal body but his vampiric years feel to him like a nightmare.

One day he confesses to you that as he was praying to gods to save him he never prayed to Bahamuth.

He just didn't know such a god existed.

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itsgameofthronesimagines · 1 year

Text

Two Roads Diverged

(Gif not mine)

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Relationships: Rhaenyra Targaryen & Sister!Targaryen!Reader, Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen/Niece!Targaryen!Reader, Daemon Targaryen & Niece!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: Rhaenyra and Y/n Targaryen were born in this world together, but whether by the will of the gods or the fire and blood running through their veins, the twin sisters would walk down two very different paths.

Warnings: Incest, death, grusome depictions of a dead body, family drama, daddy issues, etc. (to be added)

Words: 8,852

Request by: @ivy-targaryen

Taglist: @gruffle1 @borikenlove

A/N: Another beautiful and creative request by the same one who brought us the inspiration behind 'the Strong Dragon' series! This will be a long one so strap in!

(I do not consent to my works being reposted/copied)

~~~~~~~~~

Viserys Targaryen, son of Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa Targaryen, wed his cousin, Aemma Arryn, daughter of Lord Rodrik Arryn and Princess Daella Targaryen in 93 AC. In 97 AC, the young couple was blessed with not one, but two twin daughters. The first to scream and cry and kick was Little Rhaenyra, soon followed by her sister, Y/n. Little did the new parents know that their family would be completed after the twins' birth, and a legacy for many tales to come, both good and bad, was set in stone that day.

In 103 AC, Viserys is crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms after his grandfather, King Jaehaerys, passed away in his sleep. The realm was thrown into a new generation of Targaryens and would eventually hold the most living dragons in recorded history. The twin princesses were the first to ensure that legacy when hatching two dragon eggs of their own from their cribs. Rhaenyra, once she was old enough to speak, named her she-dragon Syrax after a goddess of Valyria. Y/n, always trailing after her sister, decided to name her dragon after the Targaryen who foresaw the Doom of Valyria, Daenys.

With the throne secure and Viserys' reign inherited with a full treasury and blessing for his late grandsire, the Wise King, both the new king and his queen held a splendid court with the promise of peace and prosperity. The realm was the brightest and most fruitful during Viserys' reign as he was optimistic and eager to please the people he ruled over. In many eyes, Viserys' had a secure succession. With his brother Daemon at court with him, two daughters to bear him grandchildren one day, and the hope of Queen Aemma to soon bear a son, Viserys was not short of heirs and he did well to teach his daughters the way of ruling a kingdom, not to mention seven of them.

Princess Rhaenyra was always the Realm's Delight. As for her younger twin, Princess Y/n, no one bestowed her with an honorable title or put her on a pedestal. After all, she was not the eldest and certainly not the heir. Even though she gained and rode a dragon at the same age as her sister, Rhaenyra will always cast the largest shadow. Rhaenyra was quickly named King Viserys' cupbearer at the age of eight and was always by her father's side at feasts, balls, and tourneys. Y/n, on the other hand, tended to her mother and was rarely seen without Queen Aemma.

Despite having different passions, the twins were still just that: twins. They still did practically everything together. As they grew, so did their boldness and ambition. Rhaenyra and Y/n did hunting, hawking, singing, and riding together. And oftentimes, their favorite companion was none other than their uncle. Daemon did many of these activities with the young princesses. At first, he did so to chaperone them at the request of his dear cousin, the Queen, but then he grew to love his little nieces more than anyone and anything, so he gladly joined them without complaint. He spent plenty of time with them, either to tell them stories of his travels, gift them with foreign treasures, or even rode his dragon Caraxes alongside their flying beasts between King's Landing and Dragonstone.

As history plays out in the coming years and when people read the books, it didn't come to much of a shock to learn just how much both of the princesses loved their uncle. Scholars tell us and most agree with each other that Y/n loved him first, but was only bold enough to admit this to her sister. Mushroom, King Viserys' fool and later an entrusted ally to Princess Rhaenyra (or so he claims) tells us that Rhaenyra kept her sister's secret. He says that the eldest twin did so for the same reason why Y/n was always taking the fall for Rhaenyra's misgivings whenever they got in trouble. The sisters loved one another and would do anything for each other. Y/n would take the blame for Rhaenyra's faults, and in exchange, Rhaenyra would keep Y/n's faults a secret.

So yes, Rhaenyra remained the Realm's Delight in the public eye while Y/n appeared to be the nuisance of the pair. Over the years, as she got older, the People had grown to name Y/n many things, but we will get there in time. First, let's return to the story. The twins' dynamic never changed even as the worst of a child's nightmares came to fruition. Queen Aemma dies in childbed and her son, Baelon, only outlives her by a day. The following events are what transpired. Daemon is banished to Dragonstone, Rhaenyra is officially named Heir to the Iron Throne, Alicent Hightower becomes Viserys' new queen, and as a result, she bore him four children. Aegon, the eldest son, Helaena, the only daughter, Aemond, the second son, and Daeron, the third son and youngest.

Princess Y/n was ecstatic to have younger half-siblings, though Rhaenyra didn't share her enthusiasm. Given that Queen Alicent was once her most loyal, entrusted friend, Rhaenyra felt betrayed by her father's new bride and therefore found little love for her half-siblings. The twins continued to confide in one another before anyone else until the time came when Rhaenyra was ordered by their father to find a husband. For once, Y/n was unable to get her sister out of her predicament and thus could not take the fall for what was about to happen.

Rhaenyra made her journey across the realm in search of a prince consort and when she returned, Y/n was rewarded with the return of her sister and her uncle all at once. Daemon had been busy fighting a war in the Stepstones and returned with a crown on his head that he later surrendered to his brother as a sign of love and good faith. King Viserys, therefore, welcomed Daemon with open arms and a celebration transpired. Daemon made time to acknowledge his brother's new queen before taking the time to reacquaint himself with his nieces. He drank and dined with them and even danced with Y/n when she asked. Viserys was drunk and jolly, delighted to see his brother among his family again. All was well.

The following day happened to be the day that solidified the future war known as the Dance of Dragons (or Dying of Dragons) and no one other than a chosen few had the eye to see it.

Y/n was awakened by Ser Arryk and her handmaiden in the earliest morning when the sun had not yet risen. Confused and equally worried, she dutifully got dressed and followed the Kingsguard down the hall. Barely anyone was awake at this hour, she had only noticed a handful of servants beginning to stir and scramble into their morning duties before she had been led to the throne room. As Ser Arryk stepped aside and allowed her through the doorway, Y/n quickly observed her father sitting high upon the Iron Throne with two other silver-haired individuals standing at the base of the stairs, backs facing her. Y/n quickly recognized her sister, Rhaenyra on the left, hair loosely braided down her back, and her uncle, Daemon, standing on the right, hair cut short and wearing only pants and his nightshirt as if he had been dragged out of bed. Confusion was still evident on her face, but dread had begun to thrive in Y/n's stomach as she slowly drew nearer. Even as she got close to the foot of the stairs leading up the Iron Throne, neither her sister nor her uncle turned to greet her. They kept their backs to her, heads lowered as if afraid to even acknowledge her presence.

Y/n finally looked back up at the King and quickly remembered her manners, bending her knees and bowing her head to Viserys in a graceful curtsy. "Father."

"Listen carefully, daughter. Treason has been committed this past night. Word has reached my ears about a certain child of mine seen with my despicable brother at a brothel in the late hour of the wolf. Unfortunately for us, those who had seen this child could not recall which one. Tell me, what do you know of these events?"

Y/n's eyes widen a fraction, though there is doubt Viserys could see it from his high throne. The princess' heart dropped to her stomach as she replayed her father's words in her head. She turns her attention to the backs of Rhaenyra and Daemon, but neither of them turns to her and Viserys speaks again.

"Do not look to either of them for help, child. I have forbidden them to aid you. You will address me and me alone. You will tell me the truth and only the truth."

Y/n wasn't entirely sure how to feel. Grief and betrayal clenched her stomach in a vice grip... but passionate emotions, such as love and rage were set aflame in her breaking heart. She wanted to scream and cry and demand an explanation. She wanted to burn the truth out of her once devoted sister and her uncle who she loved dearly.

Unfortunately, her loyalty as a sister eventually took over, despite the conflict of emotions running in her mind as she lowered her head to the ground, "... It was me, Your Grace."

"Are you certain, Y/n?" Viserys eyed her suspiciously, "You do not have to defend your sister. This is a vile and unforgivable act as you understand. There is no going back if you choose to claim your guilt and her innocence."

"I am certain, Father," she speaks more boldly, "I would not wish for my sister to be punished for my sins. I would not wish that on anyone I love."

Her words are like stone and ice, piercing Rhaenyra's heart. Guilt ebbs and slides deeper into the older twin's skin, her bottom lip trembling as she comes to terms with what she has done to her sister. Unable to see the torment on Rhaenyra's face, Y/n continues confessing a crime she did not commit.

"I crept away from the castle with Daemon last night... I wanted him to show me true acts of love--"

"Enough," Viserys demands, disgust evident in his tone. His hand grips his sword handle, conflict written all over his eyes. He sits in silence, letting it linger throughout the entire room as his brother and two daughters await their King's justice. Eventually, he sighs, exhausted as he decides to lay down the law as a king instead of a father.

"Then you have forfeited your virtue as a maiden and your reputation as a princess. You must travel to Oldtown and surrender your names and titles to become a woman of faith. You will learn to be a septa under the Faith of the Seven. You will never marry and never carry children."

Y/n's heart completely shatters as the two people who had just betrayed her quickly spoke up in rebuttal, trying to defend her.

"What-- no! No, Father! You can't just--"

"Brother, please think before you send your own child--"

"SILENCE!" Viserys slams the tip of his sword against the step below his throne, his booming, enraged voice echoing across the vast room, "Whether or not Y/n confessed, all three of you are guilty in one way or another for this heinous crime! And this will not leave any of you clean of punishments. Y/n will travel to Oldtown. You, brother, will return to the Vale and finally consummate your marriage to Lady Rhea Royce! And you, Rhaenyra. Your time for choosing a husband is over. Whether you like it or not, you will now marry Ser Laenor Velaryon and the two of us will travel to Driftmark to propose this alliance to my cousin and her husband. Tomorrow morning, we will ALL travel to our respective destinations. Your king demands it."

Knights of the Kingsguard emerge and two surround Y/n, taking her by the arms. She wretches one arm away from them as a thought crossed her mind, "And what of my dragon?" One look from her father and Y/n's face falls, the blood in her veins turning cold in realization, "No... No, Father, please!"

The knights now forcefully grab Y/n, having to fight in order to drag her out of the throne room as she fights back, all the while screaming and sobbing, "You cannot part me from Daenys, please! PLEASE!"

He made them each separately return to their chambers so they could not speak amongst themselves. Two knights guard the door outside Y/n's room but it was questioned whether or not the effort was worth it as the princess didn't appear to have the will to leave her chambers. Y/n had completely shut down, refusing to eat or sleep that evening. She sat quietly on the edge of her bed as a handful of servants came in to pack up her things. The one time she spoke, she had whispered for one of her maids to cut her hair.

At one point, Grand Maester Mellos entered her apartment and gently placed a hot tea in her hands. According to Mushroom, Rhaenyra had also been given a special tea, the fool dwarf implying it to be moon tea. He speculated that despite Y/n's confession, Viserys doubted her tale and to be certain that all memory of this night's events will be erased, he had ordered moon tea to be brought to both of his daughters. Whether or not the princesses drank it was not recorded in history, but Mushroom reported that both of the cups were empty by the following morning, regardless.

Said morning was greeted by pouring rain. Daemon was long gone and Viserys had already taken Rhaenyra to Driftmark by the sea at the time Y/n was brought down to the courtyard. Dressed in traveling clothes and a warm cloak, Y/n held her head high with her newly cut silver hair now sitting just a little past her chin. She climbed into the wheelhouse provided to her and waited for her traveling companion to join her. Before long, Otto Hightower climbed inside as their small company departed from King's Landing. The former Hand had been dismissed by King Viserys and was rumored to be replaced by Lyonel Strong, who had disappeared and was likely traveling with His Grace at the moment.

Y/n thought the travel would be mostly in silence, but Lord Otto proved her wrong as the wheelhouse finally left King's Landing, "I didn't believe it was you."

She kept her eyes focused on the road rolling by outside her window as she spoke, "I'm afraid it no longer matters what you believed to be true, my lord."

"I believe in many things, princess. I believe you have been wrongfully accused and I believe that you and I have something in common."

"And what's that?"

"We're both second-born children without the promise of lands or titles. We have both been banished to Oldtown for what our king believes is a fitting punishment. Perhaps he means well, and perhaps this is for the better... but when it is your own father who carries out the sentence, I can't imagine it feels as though this is all for the better."

Y/n's vision instantly warmed and blurred, her voice beginning to shake as she spoke, "He took my dragon from me. I understand stripping away my Targaryen rights in all but name... but my dragon?"

"He means for you to swear into celibacy under the Faith of the Seven. There isn't a septa in history who owned a dragon. You are no longer a Targaryen in the eyes of the gods, therefore you have no need for a dragon. Your father knew that... but he is not here right now... and perhaps he should have stayed in King's Landing a little longer if he wanted to be sure your dragon was properly chained up."

Y/n finally looked away from the window to stare at Lord Otto with a puzzled expression. To answer her silent question, a loud roar broke through the sky, and Y/n's heart soared with hope. Staring back out the window, her eyes eagerly searched until she caught the shadow of a familiar silhouette. Her precious Daenys was dutifully following her.

Turning back to Lord Otto to bless and thank him, she was met with a small smile and a gentle voice, "Your dragon will keep you safe in the sky and I will keep you safe on the ground. You still have allies, Princess. Remember that."

~~~~~~~~~

And thus it was. Upon arriving in Oldtown, Y/n joined the clergy of the Faith of the Seven as a novice and quickly rose in her ranks to become a septa. It didn't hurt that she had friends in high places, such as the lords and ladies of House Hightower. Y/n was no fool. She understood that Lord Otto was using her as a chess piece, but after he had given her back Daenys, she could have cared less what his motives were. She had a feeling that he had spoken with his brother, the Lord of Oldtown, Hobert Hightower, after she had been sworn into the Faith of the Seven so quickly compared to most septas. It was clear to see that most of House Hightower appreciated or at the very least respected her, so she couldn't complain. Other than the Hightowers and her dragon, the former princess didn't converse with many others. There was a moment when she caught a glimpse of someone who could be none other than her great-uncle, Vaegon Targaryen, son of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. If he had recognized her, he didn't show it. In fact, the old man didn't even appear to acknowledge her, let alone acknowledge her as a distant relative.

Other than cordial conversations, Y/n mostly kept to herself, even praying silently instead of verbally. It was clear to most that the princess did not thrive here and even though she has dutifully done everything asked of her, she did not flourish like a true septa. When she wasn't praying or healing, she was flying or reading. Occasionally, she would be summoned to the Hightower to dine with its lords, usually seated beside Lord Otto himself. Even he could see that the child (now technically a young woman) was miserable. A dark shadow passes over her face whenever her royal family is mentioned, but otherwise, she doesn't say a poor word against them. She remains courteous or, at the very least, says exactly what she is meant to say. Otto had spent enough time around Targaryens to recognize that deep, fiery rage within, although Y/n was far better at controlling it compared to her uncle. With that rage was also betrayal and grief. Lord Otto never asked the princess why her heart cries, but he knew, deep down, that it will someday come to light and, hopefully, to his advantage.

That day came years later when a letter arrives from King's Landing. Queen Alicent greets her father before addressing Septa Y/n, inviting her to the capitol in order to become Princess Helaena's septa, who will soon be wed to Prince Aegon. Whatever thoughts were running through her head, Y/n kept them to herself and honorably accepts the invitation. She bid Lord Otto and his family goodbye and her undying gratitude for the hospitality before she climbed up her dragon and flew home.

She descended onto the Dragonpit and was met with a wheelhouse outside, along with a crowd of smallfolk, cheering and welcoming the former princess home. Y/n, dressed in her humble septa robes and hood to dutifully conceal her hair, refused the litter as a means of transportation and instead took to the streets, greeting all who touched her and only smiling when someone addressed her as 'septa'. Her escorts followed at a distance but otherwise didn't disrupt the peace as Septa Y/n carried a toddler on one hip and held another child's hand as she walked the cobblestone streets. It was nearly dusk before she was forced to part from the smallfolk and finally walk through the gates of the Red Keep, her feet blistered but her smile unwavering.

Queen Alicent and her children were there to greet her, and even Y/n was surprised when Alicent welcomed her with open arms. Y/n was reacquainted with her half-siblings and all were quickly reminded of the years growing up when Y/n was completely devoted to them. They remember the twin who loved them and the twin who barely acknowledged their existence. Aegon and Aemond were polite, whilst Helaena smiled and Daeron kissed Septa Y/n's hand. She didn't ask, but Y/n noticed that her father wasn't there to welcome her. That evening, she dined alone with the Queen. She didn't ask, but Alicent could see what her stepdaughter was asking in her eyes and told Y/n that Rhaenyra had moved her family to Dragonstone and would not be returning to court anytime soon. As for Daemon, he had since married Laena Velaryon and their family currently travels around Pentos. Y/n visibly sighed in relief, but she still felt a deep ache in her chest at the mention of those she once loved so dearly. It was clear to Alicent that even after all these years, Y/n still felt the betrayal. Alicent thinks back to the last letter her own father sent her and how Lord Otto wished for her to send an official invite to Oldtown for Y/n to return to King's Landing. Now that she saw the former princess, Alicent understood why her father wanted the young woman back here in court. Y/n clearly was no friend of Rhaenyra.

The day finally came when King Viserys is forced into the same room as Septa Y/n, the day they all gathered to bid Young Daeron farewell as he travels to Oldtown to be fostered by his maternal grandsire's family. Neither father nor daughter acknowledges each other, only speaking to one another when courtesy compels them to, and even then, they only address each other as 'septa' and 'Your Grace'. After that first greeting, they avoid each other as much as possible, the hurt and the betrayal still evident between them.

It was a breath of fresh air for Y/n when the royal family was invited to Driftmark in order to pay their respects to House Velaryon after the death of Lady Laena. The king, queen, their children, the reappointed Lord Hand Otto Hightower and the royal guard had all left, leaving the Red Keep empty. Without the fear of running into her father while he is gone, Y/n roams the palace freely and even takes to the skies when time permits it. Upon the royal family's return, however, so do the dread and horror. Prince Aemond returned with only one eye and Queen Alicent returned with guilt in both of hers.

Scholars tell us of a time when the Queen became devoted to the Seven after shamefully attacking Princess Rhaenyra with a knife in Driftmark. Mushroom said she was so ashamed that she confessed her sins to Rhaenyra's sister, Septa Y/n, the moment she returned to King's Landing. The fool dwarf would have us believe that Y/n forgave the Queen in exchange that Alicent would commit herself to the Faith. The Queen graciously accepted, according to Mushroom, but some sources are not entirely sure if his telling of history is accurate, given that he wasn't in King's Landing at the time.

Nevertheless, only some can be confirmed true. Alicent did indeed confess all of her sins to Y/n as a way to cleanse herself in front of a servant of the gods. She admitted to attacking Princess Rhaenyra in the grief and injustice she felt for the loss of her son's eye. She admitted to conspiring and influencing her sons into believing that Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey Velaryon were all bastards without any proof except physical. Septa Y/n listened patiently and intently, bidding Alicent to rise as a new, true servant to the gods.

Alicent rose, albeit on shaking knees. She gulped back a sob trying to escape her throat, her eyes red and cheeks wet, "How can you have so much faith after everything that's been done to you? How can you pray when the gods have yet to give you the justice you deserve?"

Y/n only smiled, holding the Queen's face in both her hands, as gentle as Alicent remembered her to be when they were children, "I believe the gods will give me my justice in time. I am a patient woman. I still have a whole life of devotion ahead of me. They will grant me my prayers when they believe I deserve it."

A little time passes and Aegon and Helaena were wed. Twins must run in the family and Helaena soon bore a twin son and daughter, Jaehaerys, and Jaehaera. Septa Y/n secretly doted on her niece and nephew and often cared for them more than the wet nurse did. As much as she was overjoyed by them, they also reminded Y/n of the sour fate her father bestowed on her. With no children of her own, Y/n took to Helaena's, who of which had no quarrel with it.

Viserys was also reminded of this punishment, every day when he sees Y/n with the infant twins. Every time, it is a stab to the heart to be reminded of the shame he brought to his own child, a woman who would have loved her own children if her celibate vows allowed her such miracles. Some say the King's health only worsened after the birth of his twin grandchildren, some tales spreading to suggest that the pain he felt whenever he looked at Y/n was the gods' way of punishing him for forsaking his daughter.

His health would never get better, mainly because he would never truly get enough peace in order to heal. Vaemond Velaryon challenged Lucerys Velaryon's right to rule Driftmark should the Sea Snake fall and therefore, a hearing of rivaling families was to take place in King's Landing. Queen Alicent warns Septa Y/n ahead of time that Rhaenyra will be arriving shortly along with her family. Y/n has been preparing herself for the day she and her sister cross paths again, and nothing, time nor god, could prepare her for when she caught a glimpse of Rhaenyra.

For you see, no one told Y/n of Ser Laenor's death and no one told her that Rhaenyra had quickly remarried and it was to none other than Daemon Targaryen. When Y/n saw her sister and uncle again for the first time in years, the healing wounds reopened and Y/n's breath was taken away when she saw silver-haired children and the round shape of her sister's belly. Y/n could feel her heart and throat tighten, the overwhelming sadness threatening to take over. Luckily, she was observing her sister's family as they arrived in the courtyard from a small perch up on the overlooking balcony, so they had not seen her. Once they were out of view, Septa Y/n was able to breathe again and quickly retreated to Helaena's chambers under the false excuse of wanting to see if the princess had finished a book she was studying under her septa sister's guidance.

She had successfully avoided Daemon and Rhaenyra and purposefully did not attend the court hearing in the throne room the next day. She heard whispers about the King making his sickly appearance and Daemon killing Vaemond for the accusations against Rhaenyra and her children's true parentage. Y/n could only scoff, gripping her hands tightly to refrain from rolling her eyes.

Whether or not Daemon truly loved Rhaenyra is up for debate. Perhaps he only married her because she is Viserys' heir and the only way to get close in his brother's line of succession again was through marriage. Y/n wasn't sure what was worse, that her uncle loved her sister, the woman who betrayed her, or her uncle only married her for political schemes. Either way, both her uncle and sister betrayed her in one way or another, and now, for the first time in years, Y/n could see that they have reaped the benefits of their betrayal... and Y/n was left with the scraps.

The thought struck her with anger and jealousy so she decides to lead in prayer in the royal gardens, sitting down once she was alone and closing her eyes, bowing her head to recite a lovely new prayer she read recently.

"Y/n?"

Her eyes shoot open and she staggers to her feet, stunned and panicked when she spun around to notice Rhaenyra standing before her. Her dress was beautiful, radiant, and complimentary to her pregnant stomach, a lovely, long embroidery of a dragon aligning her collarbone.

Y/n's anger peaks and she quickly shuts it down, turning her face into a blank canvas as she respectfully bows her head and evens her voice, "Princess Rhaenyra. You must be relieved to be home again."

Rhaenyra's eyes flashed in confusion before she smiles what only could be out of relief, "I scarcely recognized you... what are you doing here?"

"I have been graciously invited by the Queen to teach and guide Princess Helaena and her children to devote their ways to the intention of the gods."

The monotone in her sister's voice made Rhaenyra pause. The blank expression and the reciting of words only made Y/n appear more... foreign. A puppet with tight strings. "What... what did they do to you?"

Y/n's eyebrows slightly furrow, "They didn't do anything to me, Princess. I have repented and devoted myself to become the image the gods have always envisioned for me."

It was like talking to a stranger and Rhaenyra refused to admit that. Her sister is not dead. Denial would not be her first stage of grieving when her sister is standing right in front of her. Rhaenyra stubbornly pushes through, determined to see a small hint of the girl she once knew. She forced herself to smile brightly, reaching out to grasp Y/n's hands, "Daemon will be relieved to see you again. And the children would love to finally meet you."

Like a spark of flame, Y/n snatched her hands out of Rhaenyra's reach, stepping away as if the princess burned her. To Rhaenyra's horror, the mask had slipped and all she saw in return was fire and blood behind those eyes identical to hers.

The shadow darkens over Y/n's face, voice lower in feigned respect, "Then I shall see them when they come to prayer in the evening."

Rhaenyra froze, unable to move or form words under her sister's glare. They stood that way for some time before a servant girl approached them, innocently unaware of the stand-off as she bows in respect to Rhaenyra before turning to Y/n, "Septa Y/n. Princess Helaena has asked for your presence."

The spell breaks, and suddenly Rhaenyra recognizes the sweet face of her twin, but it was not directed at her. Y/n turned to the servant girl and smiled kindly, "Tell my sweet sister I will be there shortly."

The words burned Rhaenyra, Y/n could tell out of the corner of her eye, and the hurt on her twin's face almost delighted her in some aspect. The dragon has slowly appeared behind her shield of faith, so she tries to cut this meeting short in order to tame it before it did anything rash. Y/n bows her head, "Beg your pardon, Princess Rhaenyra, but I must go."

Unfortunately, Y/n wouldn't be able to avoid her sister's family forever. The King had ordered all of his direct family members to attend dinner together, but for some reason, this dinner excluded Princess Rhaenys and Septa Y/n, the King's own cousin and daughter. However, Otto knew he had the upper hand with Daemon on this and knew when and where to flaunt. So, the Hand waited until the King was too exhausted to dine any further and when Viserys retired to bed, Otto waved his hand and a servant moved to open the door off to the side. Septa Y/n stepped through, hands folded in front of her and she glided into the room, her entrance silencing everyone at the dinner table. Y/n smiled obediently, nodding to the Princess Helaena as she breaks away from her dance with Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.

"The children are sound asleep, as promised."

"Thank you, Y/n," Helaena smiled.

"Won't you drink with us, sweet sister?" Aegon grinned mischievously, raising a goblet to her, "Plenty of wine to go around."

Y/n allowed a smirk to grace her lips, carefully lowering the cup in his hand away from her person, "As I've said time and time again, my prince, it is against my vows. And if you love your sister, you will value her virtue and refrain from drinking yourself to death in her presence."

Aegon's jaw visibly tightened, rolling his eyes but notably setting his goblet down on the table. Y/n beams at her little brother's obedience and only smiles more when Alicent nods to her in thanks.

"So this is what you reverted my niece into during her imprisonment in your ancestral home, Otto?" Daemon's words were poison, to be sure, but he bore no anger or emotion of any kind when staring down the Hand of the King, feigning curiosity, "A meek little servant girl who follows your orders?"

"You will not speak of my sister that way, Uncle," Aemond stood abruptly and easily stood tall beside Y/n, "She is a loving, caring, faithful servant to the gods and we are proud of all her accomplishments."

"I had no idea Lord Otto has been going around believing to be a god," Daemon scowled, leaning back in his chair.

"Lord Otto had always been kind to me and had every intention of keeping my life in Oldtown comfortable," Y/n spoke up, keeping her voice calm and gentle in the presence of Helaena whilst also staring her uncle down, "He ensured that my dragon would be kept with me so that I may feel safe in a foreign place filled with strangers," she spares a glimpse in Otto's direction, smiling when he met her gaze with a measured fondness, "Daenys kept me safe in the sky while Lord Otto kept me safe on the ground."

It appeared forced, but Rhaenyra smiled at the Hand of the King from down the long table of food, regardless, "We thank you for the protection you provided for my sister, Lord Otto. You have shown her such kindness. It's a debt I am not sure we could ever repay."

"It was my pleasure, Princess."

"It better not have been for pleasure," Daemon's eyes darken, trying to scout out the hidden meaning behind the old man's words.

"Daemon--" Rhaenyra warned.

"I will not have my virtue be questioned in front of the Princess Helaena and the Ladies Rhaena and Baela," Y/n sternly interrupted, holding her ground in front of the dinner table, "My virtue has already been questioned enough in your presence, Prince Daemon."

Daemon had the gull to look down in shame for half a second before correcting his posture, straightening up as he reached to grasp Rhaenyra's hand when Y/n's words clearly distressed her. Y/n watched the act, feeling her nose and eyes warm with a wide range of emotions. Her hands tighten again and her throat closes, only allowing a brief whisper towards Queen Alicent to excuse herself from the room. Septa Y/n darted out of the feast and escaped to her chambers, crying her eyes out as everything boiled over like a volcano. She collapsed into her bed and cried herself to utter exhaustion, her eyes swollen and beginning to close.

Sleep would not find her, however, as her chamber doors opened, and in its wake stood Prince Aemond. Septa Y/n wanted to scream at him, to question why he would shame a septa by coming to her room alone when she is vulnerable. Had he no fear of the gods? Instead, she lay in silence and shook from head to toe, trying to regain composure. Aemond moved out of the doorway and Aegon followed him into the room. Eventually, Helaena entered, but she stood awkwardly by the door, holding her arm in the opposite hand. Both of her brothers decided to let Y/n have her space and sat on the furniture surrounding the hearth on the opposite end of the room.

They all bask in the silence, just listening to Y/n's soft cries and the crackling of the fire. Eventually, Y/n was able to control her breathing again, wiping her face clean of tears before she tries using her breaking voice, "Did your mother dismiss you?"

Aegon huffs with mirth, "No, but I doubt we were welcome to stay. Aemond subtly insulted the Velaryon boys and it earned us a toss-up."

Y/n's accusing glare turned to the one-eyed prince watching her from the hearth, his smile unwavering even under scrutiny, "Aemond."

"Forgive me, Septa Y/n."

It was a jest, clearly, and she barked out a laugh, unable to control it. Both of her brothers laugh in response, while Helaena softly smiles. As they all laugh, Alicent emerges from the doorway and beelines for Y/n, gathering her up in her arms, "Oh, my darling girl."

Y/n sniffs, trying not to appear so small, "Forgive me, Your Grace. I was out of line."

"There is nothing to forgive. Daemon was the one in the wrong. That conversation was hardly one to have at dinner."

Y/n felt like a child again, being coddled by the Queen after her emotions got the best of her. Instead of comfort, however, she only felt shame. As a septa, being comforted by those she had been in charge of felt as though she was a failure of a guardian. On the contrary, having the touch of a mother for the first time in years felt... nice. It could not compare to the ghost of her own mother, but Alicent was gentle and squeezed just right for the touch to be secure. Y/n did her best to peek around her room for each of her half-siblings, all three of them smiling warmly at her. For a moment, Y/n felt as though she was a princess again instead of a septa, and perhaps in their eyes, she was. The thought struck her to a point of realization. Perhaps the royal family didn't see her as a septa first. Perhaps they saw her as their sister first and septa second.

Y/n was a proud septa, but just for a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the comfort and support of the family. Gods be damned.

~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, she woke alone in her room, but she felt lighter than she did yesterday. Rising in the early hour before the sun rose, she got cleaned and dressed before going out to start her morning duties. She didn't get far before she spotted Ser Criston Cole down the hall and the knight saw her in turn. He turned to her, his voice booming in demand, "Septa Y/n, I'd advise you to join Princess Helaena in her chambers and stay there until someone can fetch you."

The order confused her, Criston's stiff posture screaming all signs of wrong to her, but Y/n dutifully obeyed and retreated to her half-sister's apartments. Helaena was already there with the twins and the wet nurse, embroidering what looked to be one of her favorite insects while the nurse and children played on the floor. Y/n joined her on the furniture and read out loud some passages of the Seven-Pointed Star as the morning sun rises further in the sky. Before long, Queen Alicent and Lord Otto storm into the bedroom, demanding the whereabouts of Prince Aegon. No one had seen him, so Lord Otto retreats back outside and Alicent sits and informs the septa and princess that their father was dead.

Helaena pushed away her mother after stating 'there is a beast beneath the boards' while Y/n sat still, face hard of any grieving expression. Her teeth grind together, eyes focused on a spot on the wall as she addressed the Queen, "Has the King's brother and heir been informed?"

"No. They left last night."

She nods. "May I see the body? I would like to pray over the deceased."

"Of course."

Alicent had Ser Criston bring Septa Y/n to the King's chambers. Incense was burning when she arrived, making her way around the large diorama of King's Landing towards the bed. The incense was not strong enough, unfortunately, and Y/n's nose scrunched up when introduced to a vile smell she could only identify as a rotting corpse. She's dealt with death before when tending to the sick in her studies to be a septa, but it's still overwhelming for the senses. Viserys' body was small, frail, already the proper size of a skeleton. There wasn't enough flesh left of her father to decay, the right side of the face already decomposed and skeletal. He had been a walking, rotting corpse for some time now, and at this point, Y/n could no longer remember her father's face from when she was a child. She had only known this limp form for so long.

Lighting seven candles, Y/n says her prayers under her breath, hardly shedding a tear as the Silent Sisters are summoned to properly cleanse and wrap the body. Queen Alicent, now properly dressed in mourning clothes, fits herself beside Y/n as they both stand over the wrapped body, his crown placed on top of it. Alicent wept, but Y/n remained neutral. Once the Queen had composed herself, she turned to Y/n and grasped her hand.

"Y/n, you must listen to me. Last night, before I retired to bed, Viserys spoke to me. He wished for Aegon to be crowned instead of Rhaenyra and therefore we must find my son before we can send word to Dragonstone. We must plan a coronation for Aegon before Rhaenyra has a chance to react. I know she is your sister and you may not believe that Viserys said this to me--"

"I believe you," Y/n interrupted, her words strong and unwavering as she looked up at Alicent with a stone face, "I believe the King would want his firstborn son to be crowned over his daughter. If you fear my response, there is no need. My place is beside your son and his family as the gods have intended. You have my full support for whatever it is you're about to do."

Alicent visibly sighs, smiling out of relief even behind the mournful tears. Squeezing Y/n's hand, she turned back to the corpse of her dead husband, "Would you like Daenys to burn the body?"

"No. Have his rightful heir use Sunfyre. My father once tried to take my dragon from me. I will not do him the honor of being burned by her."

Aegon is eventually found by Aemond and Ser Criston and is immediately brought to his mother before anything else could be done. Alicent attempts to influence her son into not plunging the realm into war with the Blacks, claiming that negotiating terms with Rhaenyra and Daemon first would be the best thing for all of them. Septa Y/n agreed with Alicent, and that seemed to fully convince Aegon after he had been properly cleaned and sobered up. Septa Y/n stood beside Aemond and Helaena in the Dragonpit as Ser Criston crowned Aegon with none other than the Conqueror's crown and sword. Alicent crowned Helaena and bowed before her, addressing her as 'my Queen' before Aegon raised his sword before the masses and they loudly cheered in celebration. Unfortunately, the celebration is cut short when Princess Rhaenys bursts from the floorboards of the Dragonpit with her large, mighty dragon, Meleys, the Red Queen herself. For a moment, it appeared as though the Queen Who Never Was had every intention of putting a stop to all this, having her dragon roar at the royal family before swiftly escaping.

The royal family retreats back to the Red Keep and Aegon sat on top of the Iron Throne. Lords and ladies scurry into the throne room to pledge their allegiance to him, but the most surprising appearance that drew whispers among the court was Septa Y/n herself, having been summoned by the new king.

"Sweet sister, you have done a great service for my queen and our family," Aegon proclaims with a wide grin, "And it would be an honor to have you as an ally more than a servant. I bid to return all land and titles to you, the same titles our father had once unfairly taken from you. In exchange for your loyalty, I would now pronounce you as Princess Y/n Targaryen once more and name you the Princess of Dragonstone until my heir, Prince Jaehaerys, comes of age to inherit our ancestral home, should you accept to carry my banner."

Y/n's heart soared and her face warmed as if a curse had been broken and a veil had been lifted from her eyes. Slowly, gracefully, the once former Septa Y/n bent the knee before the Iron Throne, beaming up at King Aegon with an uplifting smile, "It would be my honor, Your Grace. I, Princess Y/n of the House Targaryen, First of My Name and Princess of Dragonstone, promise to be faithful to King Aegon of House Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I pledge fealty to him and shall defend him against all enemies in good faith and without deceit. I swear this by the old gods and the new."

The day ends with a small feast among the King's family and council. Y/n sat with them not as a septa, but as a princess, having removed her modest robes and hood in exchange for a black dress to symbolize the mourning of her father as courtesy demands. Her hair is kept short below her chin and braided behind her ears so that no one could possibly mistake her for her twin ever again. From this moment on, Y/n was done defending her sister.

~~~~~~~~~

Otto Hightower sailed for Dragonstone with sails bestowing the colors of Aegon's new banner, the original Targaryen sigil but instead of red, the three-headed dragon was colored green. Y/n waited half a day for Lord Otto to reach her ancestral home before following close behind on dragonback, her mighty Daenys fitted back into a beautiful saddle before taking to the sky.

The wind was kind enough for the ship to make it to Dragonstone before Y/n as she spotted the ship docking at one of the piers upon flying overhead of Dragonmont. She could see how far Otto and his company of knights had gotten before being stopped by Rhaenyra, her dragon, and her men at the long, cobblestone stairs stretching far along the island and leading up to the castle. Syrax had purposely landed to block the Greens' only exit, trapping them between her and Daemon as Rhaenyra stood in front of the company. From a distance, Y/n easily recognized her sister's hair and then noticed Daemon's, her rage only brewing. And since she had been released from her vows as a septa, she gladly embraced her emotions instead of stomping them down with prayer. She let Daenys circle the stand-off upon the bridge once, twice, before finally landing behind Daemon's men, now trapping all of them between the two she-dragons. She didn't take the time to bask in everyone's expressions as she quickly descended from her saddle. Her feet hit cobblestones and Y/n slowly made her way through the sea of soldiers belonging to her uncle. They part for her with the looming beast behind her keeping a close watch on them while Y/n makes it to the center, being met by her uncle and sister.

This time, she gladly took in their expressions as they both noticed her riding dress was a dark, green, and black garb with matching riding pants underneath. Rhaenyra's expression was one of horror and disbelief, while Daemon's hardened into something unreadable. Y/n flashed a thin smile as she passed them, moving to stand directly beside Lord Otto. Only then did Y/n take the time to observe the situation. At the sight of Rhaenyra wearing their father's crown, a flash of anger spread through Y/n like wildfire.

"Sister..." Rhaenyra finally spoke, her disbelief still knawing in the back of her mind, "What are you doing here?"

"Assisting in negotiations," Y/n proudly stated, glancing between her sister and Lord Otto, "I assume that the Hand of the King has laid out King Aegon's terms?"

"King--" Rhaenyra's rage flashed before she reeled it back in, taking her time to breathe in deeply before tightly responding, "Aegon is no king to us. You were there, Y/n when our father named me his rightful heir."

"Our father was a fool," the harsh insult slipped easily off Y/n's tongue, lashing out like a viper with a rage Rhaenyra has never seen in her twin before, "Even a king must obey the laws... and the laws of the Great Council state that a male heir must be put first before the female and even a female's sons, regardless of who of which was firstborn. King Jaehaerys was wise in letting his people decide back in 101 AC, and our father was a fool for believing his word outranked the people who made the very decision that handed him the Iron Throne. King Viserys stabbed the realm in the back for going against the laws they had placed to prevent wars. King Viserys started a war by favoring you over his sons and naming you heir."

"You shame your father's memory by betraying your blood to these pretenders!" Daemon accused his niece from over Rhaenyra's shoulder.

Y/n's eyes dart towards him, the man she once wished to devote herself to. Instead of love, however, there was only hate and mockery as she tilt her head at him, "Are you not the brother he looked over in favor of his daughter? I see no other reason why you would marry her other than to finally have your brother's throne for yourself once you slice her pretty neck wide open."

"Y/n, enough," Rhaenyra's voice cracked under the power of her voice, "You don't have to do this."

The smile grows until Y/n shows her fangs, the sneer, and disdain pooling from her eyes as spoke in a harsh whisper, "Because of your crimes and sins against the gods, I was sent away to atone for them. For every step forward you took advantage of, I was two steps behind, taking the blame. The gods test my patience every time you draw breath or every time you bore a bastard son. You shame me, sister," Rhaenyra's face crumbled under the weight of Y/n's words, "And you shame the gods our dragons fly so close to. You can no longer walk over the laws the gods have placed for mortal men. You can no longer abuse the might and power of your station."

"Why are you doing this?" The Queen Pretender whispered breathlessly, a single tear running down her cheek, "Please, give me an honest answer."

"You're a fool if you think I haven't been honest with every ill word I speak of you," Y/n took one step forward and then another until she was close in proximity to Rhaenyra. Both sisters stood still, as did their respective guardians on either end of this battlefield of words. Y/n's eyes dart behind Rhaenyra to closely watch Daemon as she whispered into her sister's ear, "You have taken everything from me the day you followed the man I loved, the one person who ever made me truly happy, into a brothel. Because of you, I was never allowed to start a family of my own. Because of you, I was sent away from home. Because of you, I nearly lost my dragon. Because of you, I will never feel the love our father had that was bestowed on you. Every warmth I have ever felt, you sought to snuff it out to please yourself. You have taken everything from me, sweet sister... and now you will learn to know how that feels."

Better songs have been sung for twins like Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk of House Cargyll, whether they were believed to be true or not. Songs about Rhaenyra and Y/n of House Targaryen, however, were barely sung and were far from beautiful. Scholars and fools alike can agree years after the event that the sisters had parted from each other on Dragonstone as mortal enemies, vowing vengeance and blood for crimes they had committed against one another in girlhood. Men have fought wars for far less, and the twin Targaryen girls had more reason than most to wish their other half dead.

Rhaenyra had extinguished all memory of 'the Realm's Delight' in replace of 'the Black Queen', whilst others called Her Grace more colorful monikers that shamed her very existence, such as 'the Bitch Queen' or 'the Whore of Dragonstone'. None, however, would ring more true than 'King Maegor With Teats'.

Over the years, the People had grown to name Y/n many things. 'Divine Justice' was one of them, 'the Father's Maid' another... and the least popular title was 'the Winged Stranger', the one many would call her during the Dance of Dragons.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: If you would like to support my writing, please feel free to donate at my new Ko-fi account here! Personal submissions can be done over there as well if you want something written up more to your liking :)

Otherwise, please like and support this blog! Leave and ask or pm for a request!

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ichorofthelastlament · 6 months

Text

The vae have plagued the land of Kasht for as long as man could remember. They once dominated the world before being chased away into the darkest recesses of the night but never truly gone, always hunting for the next human to become their meal. After eons of lurking the shadows the vae have become bold again, feeding more frequently and spreading their domain.

But that's where you come in. You, the chosen heir of light itself, the one who holds the power of the sun in their veins. The one prophesied to lead a group of heroes like yourself to save not only your people, but all of humanity.

A bronze age inspired fantasy setting, don't expect a one-one real world counterpart/historical accuracy.

Customize your heir: appearance, gender, pronouns, name, personality

Build relationships with your fellow companions on your way to save humanity

Choose how you feel about being thrust into herodom

Combat the Vae, beings who that take inspiration from vampires and fae. Or don't.

Decide how you ultimately traverse saving the world. Will you follow the prophecy or find another path?

More to be determined

MC [That's you]

You grew up in the desert kingdom of Akma under Mother Azira's House. Like many others who'd lost their parents you were trained to be a skilled member of society, you had many options but none so illustrious as being a god's chosen heir. Yet life is full of surprises.

The Bosom Buddy (she/her, trans woman)

You've known Periphae, or Peri as most call her, for much of your life. She is your best friend and closest companion. Working under the Fragrant Lotus, a well renowned brothel under Matriarch Azira's control, she has never been much of a fighter. She's a playful gossip who does a horrid job at hiding her anxiety, its hard to accept that she's chosen to venture out with you of her own will.

The Shield (she/he/they, genderfluid)

Eurus is a warrior from the eastern region of Saeyah who's been trained to fight along side the heir of light all their life. They've anticipated the day where they could fight alongside you, as is their destiny according to the prophecy. They have a carefree 'go with the flow' attitude about most things. Your safety and this quest for the world are not one of those.

The Chosen One The Guide (they/them, nonbinary)

Amani was a priestess that once held the title of the heir of light, they were thought to be the one to inherit the mark of the sun until the Day of Blessings came and it went to you. Now their years of training are being used to help you save all of humanity. A fact that makes them quiet bitter towards you, but Eurus says Amani is haughty and harsh with everyone.

The Mountain (she/her, cis woman)

Valeska is a warrior from the gloom infested lands of the Dhaga, a place full of various nomadic clans. She is quiet quiet skilled with stone magic, a trait they treat with complete disregard and prefers to rely on raw physical strength. You aren't sure if she's cocky or apathetic, but the claims her muscle power is far more useful that her prodigal magical talent. All the same she offers you a helping hand on your quest despite not caring much for the cause.

The Crowned Rose (he/him, transman)

Nymphie is one of the Seven Vae Lords, the one most beloved by the Vae Queen no less. He dutifully enacts his mistress' will though despite his loyalty he does not appear personally invested in her grand plans. Whatever they may be, he has no intention of telling you them. At best he appears amused by you and your compatriots attempts to fight back against the vae, you are no threat in his eyes so he takes joy in partaking in a game of cat and mouse with you all. But no amount of playful gestures can hide the danger they pose to your group.

The Rose's Thorn (he/him, )

Mars is also a Vae Lord in his own right, though rather than pledging loyalties to the Queen he bows to Nymphie and Nymphie alone. He serves as Nymphie's right hand without complaint despite being their polar opposite. For whatever reason he has orders to keep an eye on your group, you don't know if his presence is constant as he is only seen if he wishes to be. Luckily he rarely interferes with your plans, content to observe. He is quiet and blunt with his words, and though he does not appear to have ill intent it is hard to ignore the occasional hungry looks he send your way.

[More to come]

#if game #interactive fiction #interactive novel #if wip #interactive game #twine if #twine wip #no demo

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place-called-space · 7 months

Text

send me an angel [part i of 'sweetest poison']

word count: 2,601

Before they start their search for office space, Matt insists that they stop at Clinton Church—to pray for luck, of course. He doesn't know how Foggy convinced him to pray for a wife, or why he listened, but the next thing Matt knows, the smell of incense and old wood is overtaken by lilies and nectar, and you walk in.

So many things had changed after Matt lost his sight, but the sickeningly sweet scent of incense remained as stifling as ever. After years of being unable to filter through the cacophony of noise surrounding him, settling into the creaky wooden pews of the church with a deep sigh was a welcome reprieve, the incense dulling his senses just enough to stave off the migraines he so constantly found himself the victim of.

Today was no different except for the presence of Foggy at his side.

"So, how exactly do you pray?" he asks after several minutes of comfortable silence. "You ask for love and success in exchange for the sacrifice of a virgin?"

"We quite like virgins, actually," Matt corrects without skipping a beat. "They're a rare commodity these days, so we try not to sacrifice them anymore."

"Oh, I see. You just take them for yourselves," cajoled Foggy, nudging him with his foot. The wood of the pew creaked as he leaned back, turning slightly to leverage his elbow over the back. "You Catholics are greedy bastards, eh?"

"And I'm the only one that'll ever admit to it," Matt lamented with a sigh. He poked Foggy gently with his elbow. "Can I go back to praying now?"

"Right," Foggy said immediately, shuffling further away. "Take your time."

Matt shook his head, chuckling quietly before dipping again, fingers fiddling with the rosary held in his hands. He was almost done, with only one more decade to go. Sure, that may be another ten Hail Marys and a Glory Be, but despite how often he'd doze while praying as a kid, the repetition had become therapeutic over the years. Combined with the incense, it was easy to be lulled into an almost hypnotic state of calm, aided by the smooth surface of the beads and the occasional popping of the candles-

"You should pray for a wife."

Matt let out a startled laugh, catching the attention of Mrs. Akers, an old widow who'd been ancient back when Jack Murdock's mom would drag him to mass every Sunday. She turned in her pew but said nothing before turning back to the front with a shake of her head, the movement almost fond.

"A wife?" Matt asked Foggy, lowering his voice even though he was still chuckling. "I could ask for world peace, an end to poverty and starvation, or even money for our firm, and you're telling me to pray for a wife?"

"In my defense," Foggy said, the slide of cotton against skin betraying the fact that he'd raised his hands in surrender, "hundreds of thousands of people had to have asked for those other things, and all we hear are sob stories about how they were ignored!" He shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know about you, but I don't hear any complaints from the people who've asked for love."

Matt paused for a moment. "No," he said eventually, fiddling with his rosary. "I guess not.”

He shifted in his seat, wincing when his bruised ribs twinged uncomfortably and hiding the expression by bringing his left hand up to adjust his glasses. Foggy wasn't paying attention to him anyway, scraping at a scuff in the floor with the toe of his shoe.

Years of ingrained loyalty to the church had taught him to be grateful for the small blessings and to never ask for anything more. And for years, Matt had obeyed, stomping on any blooming feelings of want or desire for success or affection. Even now, shrouding himself in black and baptizing himself in blood every night, he avoided asking for anything other than guidance for himself or aid for others, muscling through the pain he endured every night, a true soldier of God.

Would it… be wrong of him to ask for something for himself, for once? He'd been taking justice into his own hands for some time now, stopping what the police couldn't out of the goodness of his heart, for the betterment of his community. Did he deserve the comfort a wife would provide, the love she’d shower him with?

Matt's heart is practically beating out of his chest as he shifts his grip on his rosary, running his thumb over the little man on the tiny cross as guilt begins to crawl up his throat like bile. What existence would he damn his wife to? A lonely existence with a husband who only joined her in bed a few hours before they were supposed to wake? A life of struggling to make rent when he devoted himself more to the justice he sought at night than the one found in court? A marriage of resigning herself to always being his second priority?

No. Nobody deserved an existence as miserable as that, even if it would make his own more bearable. No matter what he'd done, no matter what good he always strived for, Matthew Murdock would never deserve such a reprieve.

…But surely, one prayer couldn’t hurt.

“Are you there, Lord? It’s me again,” Matt started, speaking low enough that only Foggy could hear him. “I need someone to be my friend—”

“Wife!” Foggy hissed. “You have to be specific!”

Matt turned his head in Foggy’s direction, amused. “You don’t think I can be friends with my wife?”

“Of course you can,” Foggy acquiesced with a steely note in his voice, “but you’ve already got one best friend, and I’d hate to claim seniority and break up your marriage.”

That last part got a surprised chuckle out of Matt. “Noted,” he said solemnly, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Maybe send me an angel. The nicest angel you have.”

He spent the next fifteen seconds trying his hardest to keep his face emotionless as Foggy’s head turned ever so slowly until the full brunt of his incredulous expression was focused solely on the man beside him.

“You,” he started, drawing out the word in his disbelief, “did not just quote Lilo and Stitch.”

“It’s called praying, Foggy.” Matt shook his head in mock disappointment. “I’d have thought you’d seen me do it enough times to recognize it.”

Foggy heaved a sigh. “I have had enough of your smartassery,” he said, getting to his feet. “We should leave in a bit if you wanna meet the realtor on time. First impressions and all that.”

“Right,” Matt says distractedly, his attention pulled by the sound of footsteps entering from one of the hallways that branched off deeper into the church. If memory served, that hallway led to Father Lantom’s private office, but the footsteps leaving that hallway were far too light, far too quick to belong to the aging priest. No, this was someone else.

Well, hello, you.

Your skirt is long and flowy, made of linen and ideal for the warmer weather they've been getting lately. The hem flutters around your ankles when you walk, but as you pause before the candle-filled altar to light a votive, you raise one foot to scratch at your opposite calf, flashing a bit of soft, bare skin.

Matt's fingers give an involuntary twitch. Tease. You like a little attention. That much is clear from the tight shirt you're wearing—form-fitting and the sleeves low enough to wrap around your biceps while leaving your shoulders bare.

Your shoes are clean but well-worn. They smell of grass and soil, gum and sunflower seeds; you'd walked here, but only after taking a detour to soak up some sun in the park, clearly enjoying the weather. Central was too far to be feasible, so it was more likely you'd gone to DeWitt, where the grass was regularly maintained for the baseball season, hence the seeds and gum.

Still, your childhood must've had some form of worship in it because you're wearing a cardigan concealing the exposed skin of your shoulders. The addition is meant to make the entire ensemble more modest, but the slight tinkling of your jewelry calls attention anyway. No loud bracelets that clashed against each other with every move you made, thank God—only a few sets of hoops and studs scattered throughout the cartilage of your ear to pair with the simple necklace you're wearing.

Despite the understated embellishments, Matt sees right through the illusion—they're meant to bring attention to the long line of your throat, to the delicate bones of your clavicle, to the regal set of your shoulders. You want attention, but only the slightest bit. Your efforts to look effortless are not wasted—Foggy's heartbeat stutters when he finally sees you, admonishing words dying in his throat as he drinks the sight of you in, and for the first time in decades, Matt is envious of someone else's ability to simply observe.

The feeling quickly dies, however, because no matter how hard he (or anyone else tries), Foggy's perception is limited to superficial observation, while Matt's is so much more than that.

Matt can fully enjoy your scent, sweeter than the nectar of freshly bloomed flowers. He can bask in the taste of your skin, still sun-kissed and warm from the outside. He can relish in the sound of your blood pumping through your veins, spurred forward by your persevering heart. That closeness—that intimacy—was reserved for him...

...and him only.

The thought sent a rush of pride, warped and wicked, through him, and Matt couldn't help the sharp smile that split his face. Despite being born of humor and sarcasm, his prayer had been answered.

God had sent him an angel.

He must've looked particularly devious because Foggy dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

"She's hot, in case you were wondering," he whispered, resigned and conspiratorial at the same time. "Absolutely smoking. But I'm assuming you knew that already."

"I don't care about that, Foggy," Matt said distractedly, too busy listening to the brush of your hair against your cardigan—it smelled of lilies. "What's she doing?"

“Having a moment of silence, it looks like,” Foggy told him. “Which makes my staring at her even more creepy than before. Thanks, dude. Can we go now?”

“She smells so good,” Matt confessed in a hushed whisper, parting his lips to draw more of your scent onto his tongue. He was swaying slightly on his feet, and he grasped at the pew in front of him in a white-knuckled grip as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him—when had he stood up, anyway? “Are you sure we can’t stay a bit longer?”

Foggy startled a bit. “You can smell her from here?” he asked incredulously, the muscles in his forehead stretching as he raised a dubious eyebrow. When Matt didn’t respond, Foggy blew out a long-suffering sigh. There was the scratch of polyester on cotton as Foggy flicked his arm out, raising the hem of his sleeve enough to peer at the face of his watch. "Almost nine-thirty," he said. "We have to meet with the realtor at ten, so you have some time to try and get through the first half of your pickup lines."

And for the first time in years, Matt… hesitated.

There was a restlessness inside his chest, pushing him to approach you and introduce himself, to flash a smile and hope the dimple Sister Maggie used to compliment so much ignited your curiosity and drew you in. From there, he could go straight into charming you, learning things about you that his senses couldn’t tell him. As the weeks passed, he could bring you to his favorite restaurants, hold your hand, kiss your cheek, taste the skin of your throat as he guided you to his bed, hear what your voice sounded like as you moaned his name-

Okay… maybe not. Maybe…

Maybe he wouldn’t say hello. Maybe he'd accidentally bump into you, have you make the first step in the connection he was already looking forward to fostering. It would undoubtedly be less conspicuous that way—much easier to explain away bumping into a woman you wanted to talk to if you were blind. An exchange like that could end one of two ways: the short, apologetic interaction which didn’t lead to anything substantial, or the extended, flirtatious conversation that might pique your interest and excite you enough into wanting more.

And even if you chose the former, that didn’t mean he couldn’t introduce himself properly if he, by chance, came across you again, unattended and conveniently available.

And if he was right and the two of you were meant to meet… well, far be it from him to question God's plan.

Mind made up, Matt sent a distracted smile in Foggy’s general direction. “Just… give me a few minutes, okay?”

Foggy heaved a great sigh, standing from the pew. “I’ll be loitering outside when you’re done. You better not make us late, Murdock!”

Heart hammering in his chest, Matt felt around for the end of the pew, practically crawling out of the aisle in his haste. He took a moment to run a hand through his hair and straighten the creases in his jacket before stepping forward, tapping his cane as he walked.

As he approached you, he could tell the exact moment you noticed him. The tapping of his cane announced his presence, and your hair shifted as your head turned to catch a glimpse of him. There was a small intake of breath as your eyes took him in, a slight tilt in your head betraying how you’d looked him up and down. Trying his best not to shrink under your scrutiny, Matt settled into the spot beside you, fingers searching for the candle the nuns kept lit for him at the bottom left.

You watched him curiously, taking a half step to the side to give him more room. It seemed like you were watching him, silently preventing him from burning himself. And though he was tempted, just for a moment, to let his fingers get singed by a flame he’d strayed too close to, he didn’t, simply picking up the lit candle and lighting another. He set the candle back down, taking a deep breath before bowing his head in prayer.

He probably looked nervous. He certainly felt nervous, a certain clamminess to his palms that hadn’t been there before. This close, it felt as though you were a magnet, drawing him in, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he was swaying on his feet again, his body instinctively arching toward you without his express permission. Matt’s fingers twitched, aching to reach out and brush against your skin, but he tightened his grip on his cane, determined to at least give off the impression that he didn’t know you were there.

Your heartbeat was slow and steady in his ears, your breath similar as you, too, ducked your head, your lips moving soundlessly to finish your prayer.

It was like he wasn’t even there.

Again, Matt grew restless. He’d… he’d expected you to say something. An ‘excuse me,’ at least, not just move away silently as though you didn’t want to be perceived. Because Matt knew you. He knew by how you dressed that you liked a bit of attention, each small but elegant accessory bringing attention to you, accentuating your natural beauty. Every part of your outfit was perfectly tailored to draw attention but not keep it. It was as though you were intentionally keeping in the middle of the pack. No, this… this was done deliberately.

Well, two could play at that game.

Letting out a breath, Matt turned abruptly, swinging his cane wide and smacking you in the shin.

part ii: '(don't fear) the reaper' coming soon to a screen near you!

a/n: there it is! honestly, i've been so excited to finally push this out that i accidentally added an entirely new plot point so the next chapter will probably take a bit longer, my bad y'all. in the meantime, feel free to ask any questions about this fic or send any requests!

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #x reader #x reader fic #nmcu fic #nmcu daredevil #daredevil fic #marvel daredevil #no use of y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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