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herlondonboy · 8 months

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pretty when you cry, clarisse la rue

summary: based on this post by @kitten-reader

warnings: aphrodite’s kids are pricks lol, erm it’s really bad…

wc: 2.8k

your hair was something that you prided yourself on.

it was no doubt that you were beautiful beyond comparison to your fellow demigods, what with being the daughter of aphrodite. people couldn’t even compare you to your godly siblings.

you believed that your hair was the reason that your beauty was so great, so you natural worked hard on it.

in the world of olympians, you found solace and pride in the strands of hair that cascaded down your shoulders like a cascade of silk. your hair, a manifestation of your divine heritage, was more than just a physical attribute— it was a symbol of your identity and a testament to the grace and allure that came with being the offspring of the goddess of love.

from the moment you discovered your parentage, you embraced the inherent charm that ran through your veins, and it manifested prominently in your hair. unlike the messy, unpredictable tresses of some demigods, yours seemed to have a life of its own, obeying your whims and desires with a luxurious sheen that captivated those around you.

the secret, as you often shared with your fellow campers at camp half-blood, lay in the meticulous care you bestowed upon your locks. your morning routine became a sacred ritual— a blend of enchanted hair care products and divine techniques passed down through generations of aphrodite's children. a symphony of sweet-scented potions and ethereal brushes transformed the routine into a dance of beauty, each stroke accentuating the natural glamour that radiated from your hair.

you revelled in the attention your hair garnered, the way it shimmered under the sunlight as if kissed by the gods themselves. it became a beacon of confidence, a tangible manifestation of your divine heritage that set you apart from the sea of demigods at the camp. the other campers often marvelled at your ability to maintain such perfection, unaware of the divine secrets woven into every strand.

however, your relationship with your hair wasn't purely superficial. it served as a connection to your mother, a link to the goddess whose legacy you carried. the act of caring for it became a ritual that grounded you, a reminder of the divine blood that coursed through your veins and the responsibilities that came with it.

not unbeknownst to you, the envy and resentment simmered beneath the surface of the camp. the adoration and attention that accompanied your divine beauty fuelled the flames of jealousy among your fellow aphrodite siblings. little did you realise, being the favourite child of the goddess of love came at a cost, and that cost was the disdain of your own kin.

as you moved through the camp with the grace of a deity, your radiant hair attracting attention like a beacon, you, though aware of the hostile whispers that followed in your wake, chose to ignore. the other children of aphrodite, who were accustomed to being the centre of attention, couldn't fathom the idea of sharing the spotlight with someone they perceived as the golden child.

the jealousy manifested in subtle acts of exclusion and passive-aggressive remarks. your attempts to connect with your half-siblings often met with cold shoulders and thinly veiled animosity. the communal vanity table, where aphrodite's children traditionally gathered, became a battlefield of unspoken rivalry as they vied for the elusive title of the most captivating demigod.

yet, you, in your innocence, continued to extend kindness and friendship to those around you, oblivious to the resentment building in the hearts of your fellow campers. the intricate braids and enchanting hairstyles you generously offered to create for others only fuelled their frustration, as they struggled to reconcile the warmth of your gestures with the envy burning within them.

within the intricate dynamics of camp half-blood, one particular relationship defied expectations and unfolded with a complexity that left others bewildered. clarisse la rue, known for her brusque demeanour and a reputation that preceded her, stood as an unexpected confidante in your life. despite her gruff exterior and the scathing remarks she directed towards most campers, clarisse treated you with an unusual gentleness, and a unique bond formed between you two.

it all began during a chance encounter near the armoury, where clarisse, with her characteristic scowl, found herself inexplicably drawn to you. to the surprise of everyone witnessing the scene, her rough hands delicately traced the contours of your locks, as if handling a precious artefact. the camp's collective gasp echoed through the air, and it was then that an unspoken connection began to weave itself between you and the formidable daughter of ares.

clarisse, who seldom allowed others into her personal space, not only tolerated but seemed to relish the moments spent running her fingers through your hair. your shared interactions defied the logic of the camp's social hierarchy, leaving fellow demigods perplexed and intrigued by the peculiar alliance that had blossomed between you two.

as your friendship with clarisse deepened, it became apparent that her seemingly abrasive exterior masked a vulnerability that few had the privilege to witness. she confided in you about the weight of expectations placed upon her shoulders as the daughter of ares, the god of war. your hair, with its calming allure, became an unexpected refuge for her, a sanctuary where she could momentarily escape the demands of her tumultuous life.

in the quiet moments shared between you and clarisse, amidst the backdrop of a camp constantly on guard against mythical threats, an unexpected emotion began to stir— love. the kind of love that transcended the lines drawn by parentage and reputations. it was a love born out of understanding, acceptance, and the shared vulnerability that only the tumultuous world of demigods could evoke.

the camp, initially taken aback by the unlikely friendship, eventually came to accept the profound connection that had blossomed between you and clarisse. the daughter of ares, who once stood as an enigma wrapped in hostility, softened in the presence of your divine beauty and the solace found within the cascade of your hair.

as your feelings for each other deepened, the two of you navigated the complexities of love in a world fraught with danger. clarisse's protective instincts, honed on the battlefield, as well as in camp. together, you became an unlikely force, a symbol of love's ability to bridge even the most unexpected divides.

there was a time when a group of your own siblings, fuelled by jealousy and resentment, conspired to disrupt the tranquil rhythm of your bonds with your mother and girlfriend. one day, your prized possession, a hairbrush gifted by your mother, disappeared from its usual place. panic set in as you scoured the cabin, realising that this wasn't just a casual prank— someone had deliberately taken something sacred to you.

as whispers of the stolen hairbrush circulated through the cabin, the undercurrents of jealousy among your siblings bubbled to the surface. the mischievous culprits revelled in their act of sabotage, convinced that stripping you of this cherished item would somehow diminish the radiance that surrounded you.

it didn't take long for clarisse to sense your distress. the unspoken bond between you two had woven itself into a tapestry of mutual understanding, and she recognised the significance of the pilfered hairbrush. determined to right the wrong, clarisse took it upon herself to investigate the matter.

she confronted your siblings with an intensity that left them quaking in their sandals. her stern gaze bore into their guilt-ridden souls, extracting the truth like a seasoned interrogator. clarisse's usually thunderous voice carried a solemn edge as she demanded the return of the stolen hairbrush and an apology befitting the gravity of their actions.

unbeknownst to the misguided thieves, clarisse's reputation for ferocity on the battlefield extended to her protective instincts off it. the very fear she instilled in her enemies on the front lines was now directed at those who dared to threaten the tranquility of your connection.

under the weight of clarisse's unwavering determination, the guilty siblings caved. they returned the stolen hairbrush with bowed heads, offering apologies that bordered on genuine remorse. clarisse, satisfied with the swift resolution, ensured that justice prevailed, safeguarding the sanctity of the connection between you and the divine gift bestowed upon you by aphrodite.

as the stolen hairbrush was returned to its rightful place, the bond between you and clarisse strengthened. the trials you faced together only deepened the roots of your connection, intertwining your destinies in a tale of love, loyalty, and the unyielding power of shared vulnerability. in the heart of camp half-blood, where demigods navigated the tumultuous waters of existence, your story became a testament to the resilience of love against the currents of jealousy and deceit.

the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a fiery glow over camp half-blood, as clarisse la rue realised she hadn't seen you all day. a sense of unease settled in her chest, an unfamiliar concern that compelled her to seek you out. with each passing moment, her worry deepened, driven by a gut feeling that something was amiss.

clarisse traversed the familiar paths of the camp, her eyes scanning the bustling activity for a glimpse of your familiar figure. the ares cabin loomed in the distance, and a knot tightened in her stomach as she approached, not spotting you among the demigods sparring and training.

finally reaching the ares cabin, clarisse's unease morphed into genuine concern. where were you? why hadn't she seen you all day? the questions echoed in her mind, and she briskly entered the cabin, determined to uncover the mystery behind your absence.

there, in the dimly lit interior, she found you sitting on the edge of her bunk, your figure shrouded by a hood and a hat pulled low over your tearful eyes. the sight sent a ripple of worry through clarisse, and she rushed to your side, her gruff demeanour momentarily replaced by a genuine sense of care.

"hey, what happened?" clarisse asked, her voice softer than usual as she placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. your tear-streaked face turned towards her, and the anguish in your eyes tugged at her heart.

"they took it away," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. you repeated the words, a mantra of despair, and clarisse struggled to comprehend the source of your pain. "they took it away."

clarisse's brow furrowed, her eyes searching yours for an explanation. "took what away? what happened?"

with trembling hands, you reached up and pulled off the hood, revealing a mess of uneven strands that once cascaded in silky splendour. clarisse's eyes widened in realisation, her hand instinctively reaching to touch the shortened locks. the betrayal etched on your face told the story before you uttered a single word.

"they cut it," you sobbed, burying your face in clarisse's shoulder. "they cut it, clarisse. look at it, it's gone. all gone."

comprehension dawned on clarisse as she gently ran her fingers through the uneven strands. anger surged within her, a protective instinct for the one she cared about more than she ever thought possible. "who did this?" she growled, her gaze ablaze with fury.

you shook your head, unable to articulate the betrayal and cruelty that led to this moment. clarisse, however, needed no words. she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace as she vowed to make those responsible pay for the pain they inflicted.

in the sanctuary of the ares cabin, amid the echoes of your tearful revelation, clarisse became a pillar of strength, ready to stand by your side and face whatever challenges lay ahead. love, in its purest and most protective form, ignited within her, as the daughter of ares transformed into a fierce guardian of the broken and betrayed.

the night hung heavy with an air of tension as you cried yourself to sleep in clarisse's bed, the echoes of betrayal haunting your dreams. clarisse, ever the guardian, sat silently beside you, watching over your restless slumber. the flickering candlelight cast shadows on the determination etched into her face, fuelled by a fierce protectiveness that refused to be extinguished.

as your sobs eventually subsided into the quiet rhythm of sleep, clarisse rose from the bedside with a silent determination. in the dim light of the cabin, she retrieved her spear, its blade glinting with a subtle menace. the daughter of ares, had one mission— avenge you.

the night enveloped camp half-blood in a cloak of darkness as clarisse stealthily made her way towards the aphrodite cabin. the aura of the daughter of ares carried an intensity that reverberated through the quiet paths, heralding a confrontation fuelled by the depth of her feelings for you.

standing outside the cabin, clarisse's eyes narrowed with determination as she observed the shadows within. the miscreants who had dared to harm you needed to be taught a lesson—one they would not soon forget. gripping her spear tightly, clarisse pushed open the door, her gaze unwavering as she confronted your godly siblings.

the scene within was one of startled surprise as clarisse stormed into the cabin. her voice, usually thunderous on the battlefield, now carried a chilling calmness. "you touch her again, and i promise you, the consequences will be far worse than you can imagine."

the air in the cabin grew heavy with tension as the children of aphrodite, once filled with false bravado, now faced the unyielding force of clarisse's wrath. she recounted the pain you had endured, the tears that stained your face, and the betrayal that cut deeper than any blade.

in her hand, the spear gleamed ominously, a silent warning that spoke volumes. the children of aphrodite, their faces pale with fear, found themselves cornered by the very embodiment of wrath standing before them. clarisse's words echoed in the cavernous space, leaving an indelible mark on their consciousness.

with a final warning that carried the weight of a promise, clarisse turned on her heel, leaving the aphrodite cabin in her wake. the night embraced her as she returned to the ares cabin, a sense of satisfaction lingering in the air. the protective fire that burned within her had been unleashed, a fierce determination to shield you from further harm.

the following day, the morning light filtered through the windows of the ares cabin, casting a gentle glow over the space. you awoke with a heaviness in your heart, the memory of the previous day's betrayal lingering like a shadow. as you sat up in bed, clarisse entered the cabin, her eyes immediately locking onto yours. the weight of the night's events still etched on her features, but a newfound determination shone in her gaze.

"hey," clarisse greeted you, her voice softer than usual. she took a seat beside you, her hand gently resting on your shoulder. "we need to talk."

the air felt charged with a mix of vulnerability and strength as clarisse began to speak. "i know yesterday was rough, and i can't change what happened, but i need you to understand something." she took a deep breath, her eyes searching yours. "your beauty isn't defined by your hair. it's not just one thing that makes you pretty. it's everything."

clarisse began listing every part of you, her voice deliberate and unwavering. "your eyes– they hold a strength and depth that's beyond compare. your lips– they carry a warmth that can brighten the darkest days. your ears– they've heard laughter, pain, and everything in between. every part of you contributes to the unique beauty that is you."

you listened, the weight of her words sinking in, but doubt still lingered in your eyes. clarisse, undeterred, continued, "and, above all, it's your personality. your kindness, your strength, your resilience – that's what makes you truly beautiful."

a flicker of disbelief danced across your face, and clarisse recognised the challenge ahead. she persisted, her gaze unwavering. "say it. say you're beautiful because of your eyes, lips, ears, and every part of you."

you hesitated, the echoes of the previous day's betrayal still reverberating in your mind. "i can't- i can’t say that. not after what they did to me."

clarisse tightened her grip on your shoulder, her voice taking on a gentle insistence. "you need to believe it. it's not about them; it's about you. say it with me. you're beautiful because of your eyes, lips, ears, and every part of you."

it felt like a mantra, a repetition that tested the resilience of self-perception. clarisse didn't back down, patiently guiding you through each affirmation until the words became a declaration echoing within the walls of the ares cabin. "i'm beautiful because of my eyes, lips, ears, and every part of me."

as you repeated the words, something shifted within you. the doubt began to yield to the truth that clarisse so fervently believed. her unwavering support became a lifeline, anchoring you to a newfound understanding of your own beauty.

in that shared moment, surrounded by the strength of ares' cabin, you started to embrace the truth that beauty wasn't confined to a single aspect. it was a mosaic, a tapestry woven from the threads of every part that made you uniquely, undeniably yourself. clarisse, with her fierce love and unyielding determination, had become the mirror reflecting the truth you needed to see.

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mrsfancyferrari · 1 month

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Could you maybe make an AU with Carlos? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet vibe where they’re both royalty and aren’t allowed to be together but w a happy ending?

Happy Ever After

Anon: Could you maybe make an AU with Carlos? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet vibe where they’re both royalty and aren’t allowed to be together but w a happy ending?

Song: Love Story by Indila

Author’s note: Hey anon! I'm not used to the story of Romeo and Juliet so please bear with me! Please like, reblog and share this! <33

Word count: 8.6k

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Aragonia, nestled between towering mountains and winding rivers, lay a land of unparalleled beauty and prosperity. The kingdom was a tapestry of lush, verdant landscapes, where rolling hills were adorned with wildflowers that danced in the gentle breeze.

Majestic castles, their spires reaching towards the heavens, stood as a testament to the kingdom's rich history and the ingenuity of its people.

The citizens of Aragonia were a proud and industrious lot, known far and wide for their skilled craftsmanship and unwavering commitment to their community.

From the bustling marketplaces in the heart of the capital city to the quaint, charming villages that dotted the countryside, the people of Aragonia lived in harmony, their days filled with the laughter of children and the rhythmic hum of daily life.

At the center of this enchanting kingdom stood the grand palace, a sprawling edifice of gleaming marble and intricate stonework.

Here, the wise and benevolent ruler of Aragonia presided, guiding the kingdom with a steady hand and a deep understanding of the needs of his people.

Under the watchful eye of the monarch, Aragonia flourished, its reputation for prosperity and innovation spreading far beyond its borders, drawing in visitors from near and far who marveled at the beauty and wonder of this truly remarkable land.

Princess Y/N, known for your grace and beauty, was the eldest daughter of King Alfonso VII. You had inherited your father's intelligence and compassion, making you a beloved figure within the kingdom.

Prince Carlos, on the other hand, was the youngest son of King Ferdinand III. Despite his noble status, he possessed a rebellious spirit that drew him closer to the commoners.

King Alfonso and King Ferdinand were embroiled in a bitter feud that threatened to tear the kingdom apart. The two monarchs harbored deep-seated animosity towards one another, stemming from long-standing political and personal disputes.

This toxic rivalry manifested in a climate of tension and distrust, with the two men constantly vying for power and influence. The tension between them spilled over into their respective families, creating a rift that only served to exacerbate the already precarious situation within the kingdom.

As the conflict escalated, the people of the land found themselves caught in the crossfire, uncertain of their future and the stability of the realm. . . .

"Princess Y/N, are you ready for the party?" your servant asked you as you stared out of your oval-shaped window, revealing the endless sea and the docks.

"Yes Matilda, I am ready," you muttered.

You were not. You hated going to these parties that your father organized. The grand halls filled with nobility, the endless chatter about alliances and politics, and the constant pressure to present yourself as the perfect princess made you feel suffocated.

You'd rather stay here and watch the sea forever, losing yourself in the gentle rhythm of the waves and the distant calls of the seabirds.

As you reluctantly turned away from the window, you couldn't help but sigh. The ocean had always been your sanctuary, a place where you could dream of freedom and adventure far from the palace walls.

But duty called, and you knew you had to uphold your role, no matter how much it pained you.

Adjusting your gown, you took a deep breath and steeled yourself for the evening ahead, wishing that one day you might find a way to escape the gilded cage that held you.

Your father expected you to charm the guests, forge new alliances, and perhaps even catch the eye of a suitable suitor. He had always emphasized the importance of these gatherings for the kingdom's future, and he relied on you to play your part perfectly.

Despite your own desires, you knew that failing to meet his expectations could have serious repercussions for both you and the realm.

The thought of potential suitors filled you with a mixture of dread and resignation. You longed for a partner who understood your love for the sea and your yearning for freedom, rather than someone who only saw you as a pawn in their political games.

Yet, you knew that such a romantic ideal was unlikely in your world, where alliances were forged not by love but by necessity. . . .

"Carlos! Are you sure this isn't going to get us into big trouble?" Mercutio whispered as the three of them pushed through the overgrown garden of the Alfonso family.

Carlos grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Relax, Mercutio. I've done this a dozen times before. The Alfonsos are too busy celebrating to notice a few extra guests," he replied confidently, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

"Besides, we blend in perfectly. Just act like you belong, and no one will question a thing."

Benvolio, trailing behind them, chimed in, "He's right, Mercutio. Remember last summer when we crashed the mayor's gala? We even got compliments on our outfits!" He adjusted his mask and smoothed his clothes, trying to muster up some of Carlos' bravado.

"Let's just have fun tonight. What's the worst that could happen?"

The garden was a labyrinth of lavishly manicured hedges and vibrant flowerbeds, with twinkling fairy lights strung overhead that cast a magical glow on the scene. Stone statues of mythical creatures peeked out from behind dense shrubbery, and a grand marble fountain stood at the center, its water sparkling like liquid diamonds.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming jasmine, adding an enchanting allure to the evening.

"Just blend in," Carlos finally whispered before slipping into the crowd, his movements fluid and confident. Mercutio and Benvolio exchanged a quick glance, then followed suit, mingling seamlessly with the other revelers.

The sound of laughter and music enveloped them as they made their way toward the heart of the celebration, hoping their disguises would hold up under the scrutiny of the Alfonso family and their guests.

Carlos was dressed in an elegant black suit adorned with intricate gold embroidery, his mask a matching black with delicate filigree that framed his eyes.

Mercutio wore a deep blue velvet coat with silver accents, his mask resembling a Venetian masterpiece with feathers that added a touch of mystique.

Benvolio, opting for a more understated look, sported a dark green ensemble with subtle bronze details, his mask simple yet sophisticated, giving him an air of quiet confidence.

Carlos, Mercutio and Benvolio all arrived at the mansion, eager to have a good time. As they mingled with the guests, no one had any idea that they were from the rival Ferdinand family.

They blended in seamlessly, sipping drinks and chatting merrily, their true identities hidden from the unsuspecting crowd.

The three friends revelled in the freedom of being anonymous at the party. They could let their guard down and truly enjoy themselves, without the constant tension and rivalry that existed between their family and the Alfonso.

For once, they were able to forget the long-standing feud and simply live in the moment, dancing and laughing without a care in the world. . . .

"Everyone! Please give your full attention to King Alfonso and his daughter, Princess Y/N who make their appearance tonight!" The announcer stated, catching everyone's attention and the room came to a silent halt.

The grand hall was adorned with opulent chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests. Rich tapestries depicting scenes of royal triumphs hung on the walls, and an orchestra played softly in the background, adding to the regal atmosphere.

At the top of the imperial staircase, a majestic red carpet led straight to the throne, where King Alfonso and Princess Y/N stood in their resplendent attire.

King Alfonso, a striking figure with a commanding presence, wore a robe of deep crimson velvet trimmed with gold embroidery. His crown, encrusted with precious gemstones, rested regally upon his silver hair, which added to his dignified look.

His piercing blue eyes surveyed the room with a mixture of authority and benevolence, and a jeweled scepter in his right hand glinted under the chandelier's light, symbolizing his unchallenged power and leadership.

Princess Y/N, standing gracefully beside him, was the epitome of elegance and poise. Your gown, a masterpiece of delicate lace and satin in shades of royal blue, shimmered with every movement.

A tiara of diamonds and sapphires adorned your flowing locks, complementing your serene and captivating beauty.

Your eyes, a brilliant shade of green, radiated warmth and kindness as you acknowledged the gathered guests, while your calm demeanor and gentle smile hinted at the wisdom and strength that lay beneath your refined exterior.

Carlos and his friends were at the buffet, eagerly sampling the lavish spread of delicacies when the announcement echoed through the hall.

While his companions barely glanced up before returning to their plates, Carlos found himself captivated by the sight of you. Your graceful presence and ethereal beauty held him spellbound, making it impossible for him to look away.

The sparkle of your tiara and the gentle warmth in your eyes seemed to draw him in, as if you were the very embodiment of a fairy tale come to life.

As his friends continued their animated conversation about the best dishes at the buffet, Carlos remained rooted to his spot, his gaze fixed firmly on the princess.

He felt an inexplicable connection, a magnetic pull that made the noise and bustle around him fade into the background.

In that moment, nothing else mattered; all he could see was you, and all he could feel was the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, you might notice him amidst the sea of faces.

The first dance came soon after the announcement, and Carlos knew it was the perfect chance to make his presence known. As the music started, couples began to fill the dance floor, but Carlos's eyes never left you.

Gathering his courage, he approached with a respectful bow, extending his hand. "May I have this dance, Princess?" he asked, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

You smiled warmly, recognizing the sincerity in his gaze, and placed your hand in his.

As you both moved gracefully to the rhythm, the world seemed to blur around you. Carlos felt a sense of belonging and purpose, each step affirming the connection he felt.

In your presence, the grandeur of the ballroom faded, leaving just the two of you, sharing a moment that neither would soon forget.

"What is your name?" you asked, your voice as melodious as the music enveloping the room. Carlos hesitated for a brief moment, the truth perched on the edge of his tongue.

"My name is Charles," he lied. A slight tremor in his voice betrayed his nervousness.

You tilted your head slightly, a curious glint in your eyes as you continued to dance. "Charles," you repeated, testing the name on your lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Tell me, Charles, what brings you to our celebration tonight?"

Carlos swallowed hard, determined to maintain his composure. "I came with friends," he replied, gesturing subtly towards the buffet. "But now, I am grateful for this unexpected opportunity to dance with you, Princess."

Carlos and you danced gracefully before your father, the King. As the music came to an end, your father gave you a pointed look, signalling that it was time to separate and greet another potential suitor.

You leaned in to Carlos and whispered, "Meet me in the west garden in an hour."

Carlos' eyes widened momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure. "I'll be there," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

You made your way through the throng of guests, exchanging pleasantries with the various noblemen and women who sought your attention. However, your mind was focused on the upcoming meeting with Carlos.

As the appointed hour approached, you slipped away from the main festivities and hurried to the west garden. Carlos was already there, waiting for you under the moonlit sky.

"You came," You said, relief evident in your voice.

"Of course," Carlos responded, taking your hands in his. "I couldn't bear the thought of not seeing you, even if it's just for a moment."

"Carlos, I... I don't know what to do. My father expects me to entertain these suitors, but that's not what my heart wants me to do."

Carlos squeezed your hands gently, his eyes searching yours. "Sometimes, we must follow our hearts, even if it means defying expectations," he said, his voice filled with quiet determination.

"I know it might be difficult, but you deserve to be with someone who understands you, who cherishes you for who you are, not just for your title."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your father's expectations and the longing in your heart. "But what if my father never approves? What if he forces me to marry someone else?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Carlos stepped closer, his grip on your hands firm and reassuring. "Then we'll find a way to be together, no matter the obstacles. Love is worth fighting for, Princess. And I promise, I will fight for you."

"But how, you've only met me today," you started, your voice tinged with skepticism.

"It's something called love at first sight, Princess," Carlos teased, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "From the moment I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. It's not just about the title or the expectations—it's about the connection we share, even in such a short time."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, but doubt still lingered. "But what if this feeling fades? What if we regret defying everything for a chance that might not last?"

Carlos' expression grew serious, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering intensity. "Feelings like this don't fade easily, Princess. Genuine connections are rare and precious, and I believe ours is one of them. We owe it to ourselves to explore this, to give our hearts a chance to truly know if it's real."

"Okay," you replied shyly, a blush rising to your cheeks. No one has ever spoken to you like this before; it has always been about fulfilling duties and consummating the marriage.

Your entire life, you were taught that love was secondary to alliances and obligations, but Carlos' words stirred something deep within you—a hope that maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than duty.

Carlos' eyes softened as he noticed your hesitation. "This world we live in often binds us with chains of duty and tradition. But sometimes, those chains need to be broken for us to truly live. Let me prove to you that what we have is real. Let me show you a world where love and happiness aren't just dreams but possibilities."

His words carried a promise, a vow that resonated with the unspoken desires in your heart.

You nodded, unable to speak any more, tears welling up in your eyes. Carlos' hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Thank you for trusting me," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on your cheek, the simple gesture sending a shiver down your spine. His lips lingered for a moment, and you closed your eyes, savoring the unexpected comfort and reassurance his presence brought.

As he pulled back, his eyes never left yours, a silent promise passing between you.

In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing together against the backdrop of an uncertain future.

You took a deep breath, feeling a newfound strength and determination blooming within you. With Carlos by your side, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, confident that love, for once, would guide your path.

"Should your first job to court me be to kiss me on the lips?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. Carlos chuckled, the sound light and full of promise.

"If that is what the princess desires," he replied, his voice low and husky.

He leaned in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away if you wished. But you didn't; instead, you found yourself closing the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss.

The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant at first, as if both of you were savoring the moment's significance. Then it deepened, becoming a silent conversation of shared hopes and unspoken dreams.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was racing, and you saw the same exhilaration mirrored in Carlos' eyes.

"Consider it the first of many," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "Because this is just the beginning of our journey together."

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a blend of excitement, nervousness, and an overwhelming sense of belonging. The kiss had unlocked a floodgate of feelings you had kept hidden for so long, and in that brief, magical moment, you felt truly seen and understood.

As you gazed into Carlos' eyes, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you would face it together, strengthened by the bond you had just forged.

"How will I communicate with you?" Carlos whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "We'll find a way," you replied, your voice steady with conviction. "Whether through letters, messages, or the silent understanding we share, we'll always be connected."

Carlos nodded, his eyes filled with trust and determination. "I believe in us," he said quietly, his hand gently squeezing yours.

"Princess Y/N! Where are you?" you heard your maid, Matilda, yell out your name, her voice carrying a mix of urgency and worry.

You turned towards the sound, your heart sinking slightly at the reminder of your duties and the world that awaited outside this intimate bubble.

"I think that's the sign to leave, but don't worry, I'll be here tomorrow," Carlos said, letting go of you reluctantly. You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Promise?" you asked, your eyes searching his.

"Promise," Carlos replied, his gaze unwavering.

With one last lingering look, you turned and began to walk towards Matilda's voice, feeling Carlos' eyes on you until you disappeared from view. . . .

"Matilda, you saw who I was with, am I right?" you asked, staring out of your window as the evening sun cast long shadows across the room.

"Yes, Princess," Matilda replied, her voice hesitant but clear.

"Do you recognize him?" you pressed, turning to face her, your curiosity mingling with a touch of apprehension.

Matilda nodded slowly. "Yes, I do. He is the youngest child of our rival, King Ferdinand's child, Prince Carlos."

A gasp escaped your lips, and you felt a mix of shock and confusion grip you. "Prince Carlos? But how... why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Matilda's eyes softened with understanding. "I didn't want to alarm you, Princess. I saw how happy you were. But you must be careful; our kingdoms have a complicated history."

Your mind raced with conflicting emotions.

If Prince Carlos had lied about his identity, how could you trust anything else he had said

The promise he made to you felt sincere at the time, but now, doubt gnawed at your heart. What if his intentions were not as pure as you had believed?

The weight of the revelation pressed heavily on your shoulders, and the once-clear path ahead now seemed clouded with uncertainty.

Yet, there was a part of you that wanted to believe in the connection you had felt with him. Despite the rivalry between your kingdoms, there had been moments of genuine warmth and understanding in your conversations.

Could it be possible that he, too, wished for peace and a way to bridge the divide?

You knew you needed to tread carefully, but the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there could be more to his story than deceit kept a small flame of optimism alive within you.

Your heart ached with the weight of uncertainty. "Matilda, what should I do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Matilda stepped closer, her expression filled with empathy. "Princess, you must tread carefully. Confront Prince Carlos and seek the truth. But remember, matters of the heart are never simple, especially when they are entangled with the affairs of state. Trust your instincts, but also be prepared for whatever truths may come to light."

A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you—fear, hope, and a lingering sense of betrayal. Matilda's words echoed in your mind, urging you to confront Prince Carlos yet cautioning you to brace for the truth.

Your heart beat erratically, torn between the desire to uncover the reality and the dread of what that reality might reveal. . . .

"Good morning, Princess," you heard Carlos say as he emerged from behind a bush, his mask still on from yesterday.

You were in your garden, the same place where Carlos had left you last night. His presence startled you, but you quickly composed yourself, determined to face him.

"Carlos," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

His eyes widened in surprise at the sound of his real name, betraying a flicker of vulnerability. "I see you know the truth," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

"I need to know the full truth. Why did you hide your identity from me?"

His eyes flickered with a mixture of guilt and resolve as he stepped closer, the morning light casting shadows across his masked face.

"I never intended to deceive you," he said softly.

Slowly, with deliberate movements, Carlos reached up and removed his mask, revealing a face that was both strikingly handsome and etched with sorrow. Your breath hitched at the sight, your heart skipping a beat as you took in the chiseled features and the intense eyes that had once seemed so distant.

It was as if a barrier had been lifted between you, and for a moment, the world around you faded into the background.

"I feared that revealing my true identity would ruin the connection we had built. Our fathers have a long history of conflict, and I didn't want that to stand between us. But now, I realize that honesty is the only way forward. I hope you can understand and find it in your heart to trust me once more."

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. "Carlos, this isn't just about our fathers' past. It's about the trust between us, the foundation of any relationship," you said, your voice trembling slightly.

"You should have told me the truth from the beginning. How can I be sure there aren't other secrets you're hiding?"

Carlos looked down, his expression a mix of shame and determination. "I understand your hesitation, but I promise you, there are no more secrets. I want to build a future with you based on honesty and trust. Please, give me a chance to prove myself," he implored, reaching out to take your hand.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was sincerity and a deep longing. "Carlos, this isn't going to be easy," you said, your voice softening.

"Trust has to be earned, and it will take time for me to fully trust you again. But I want to try. I want to believe that we can overcome this, together."

Carlos's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. "Thank you," he whispered, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I promise I will do whatever it takes to show you that my intentions are true. No more secrets, no more lies. Just us, facing the world together."

You nodded, feeling a cautious optimism bloom within you.

The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, you both felt that it might just be possible to forge a future built on a foundation of truth and mutual respect.

"Good," you muttered, cupping his face to place a kiss on his lips.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters of this newfound honesty. But soon, it deepened with a mutual understanding that this was the first step towards mending what had been broken.

Pulling back slightly, you looked into his eyes, seeing the determination etched in his gaze.

"Well," you said with a playful smile, "if we're going to start fresh, maybe we should celebrate with dinner tonight. How about you cook for me? I've been dying to taste your famous paella."

Carlos chuckled, a spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. "Ah, my culinary skills, eh? You know, I only bring out my best recipes for special occasions. But for you, I think I can make an exception."

"You'd better," you teased, giving him a light nudge. "And don't think you can win me over with just food. I'm expecting some serious effort on your part."

Carlos grinned, his confidence returning. "Challenge accepted. Just wait, by the end of the night, you won't have any doubts about my commitment to us."

You both laughed, the tension easing as you basked in the warmth of this new beginning, ready to face whatever came next, together. . . .

Carlos couldn't help but sneak another glance at the grand Alfonso mansion as he crept through the garden, his heart pounding with excitement and nerves.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered, finally reaching the veranda where you stood waiting.

"Absolutely," you whispered back, a smile playing on your lips. "I've thought about it, and I don't want to waste any more time. If we're going to build a future together, let's start now."

Carlos took a deep breath, looking deep into your eyes. "Then let's do it. Let's get married. I'll make Friar Laurence wed us tomorrow."

You nodded, feeling a rush of exhilaration. "Yes, Carlos. Let's take this leap of faith together. No more doubts, no more hesitation. Just us, united in a promise to face everything hand in hand."

"Until tomorrow, princess. I can't wait to make you my wife," Carlos said, kissing your knuckles.

Your heart raced as his warm lips brushed against your skin. The way he looked at you, with such adoration and longing, sent shivers down your spine. You knew in that moment that there was no one else you'd rather spend the rest of your life with.

"I can hardly contain my excitement," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "The thought of becoming your wife fills me with such joy."

Carlos smiled, his eyes sparkling with love. "Then it's settled. Tomorrow, in front of all our loved ones, I will make you mine forever." He brought your hand to his lips once more, sealing the promise with a tender kiss.

As he reluctantly pulled away, you already felt the loss of his touch. But the knowledge that soon you would be bound to him for eternity filled you with a sense of peace and belonging.

Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

The next day, under the cover of dawn, you and Carlos made your way to Friar Laurence's small chapel. The early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the stone floor.

Friar Laurence stood at the altar, a knowing smile on his face as you approached. "Are you both ready to take this step?" he asked softly, his voice filled with warmth and understanding.

Carlos squeezed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes, Friar," he replied with unwavering certainty. "We are ready to start our life together."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a swell of emotion rise in your chest.

Friar Laurence began the ceremony, his words a soothing balm to your anxious heart. As you exchanged vows, the world outside seemed to fade away.

Friar Laurence started, "Carlos and Y/N, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your union bring an end to the conflict between your families."

Carlos said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thank you, Friar Laurence. With this marriage, I hope my father and Y/N's father can find peace."

"As do I, Carlos. Our love will show them that there is a way forward, beyond this senseless feud."

Friar Laurence smiled, "I pray that your marriage will be the first step towards reconciliation. May God bless you both."

For those precious moments, it was just the two of you, bound by love and the promise of a future together. . . .

Later that afternoon, Carlos met with Mercutio in the secluded garden behind his family's estate. The air was filled with the scent of blooming roses and the gentle hum of bees.

Benvolio, ever the jester, was the first to speak. "Carlos, you look like a man with a secret. Do tell, what has you so radiant today?"

Carlos couldn't suppress his joy any longer. "My friend, I have wonderful news. This morning, Y/N and I were married in Friar Laurence's chapel."

Benvolio's eyes widened in surprise. "Married? So soon? But what about the feud between your families? Do they know?"

Carlos shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. "Not yet, but we hope that our union will be the catalyst for peace. We believe that our love can end this senseless conflict. Now, more than ever, we need your support and discretion."

However, he is soon stopped when he sees Tybalt Alfonso, Y/N's cousin, there arguing with Mercutio. The tension in the garden was palpable, cutting through the serene atmosphere like a knife.

Tybalt's face was flushed with anger as he pointed an accusing finger at Mercutio. "What are you doing here, Montague?"

Tybalt spat, his voice laced with venom. "This garden is not for the likes of you."

Mercutio, ever the provocateur, smirked and replied, "Oh, Tybalt, must you always be so dramatic? We're simply enjoying the lovely weather. Besides, Carlos invited us."

Carlos stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "Tybalt, please, this isn't the time for old grudges."

Tybalt glared at Carlos, his eyes burning with fury. "You dare refuse my challenge?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "We are sworn enemies, and you will face me in combat!"

Carlos held up his hands, his expression calm and resolute. "I cannot, Tybalt. You are like family to me. I love you as a brother, and I will not raise my hand against you."

Tybalt's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger momentarily tempered by the unexpected response. "What madness is this?" he demanded.

"We have been at odds for years, and now you claim to love me as kin?"

"It is no madness, Tybalt," Carlos replied evenly. "My heart has changed, and I see now that our feud has been a foolish and pointless thing. Let us put aside our differences and embrace as family."

Tybalt's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "You mock me with your words, Carlos," he growled.

"I will not be swayed by your honeyed tongue. The time for talk is over - draw your sword and fight, or be forever branded a coward!"

"I cannot believe you refuse to fight like a true man," Mercutio spat, his eyes narrowed in frustration as Carlos once again declined the challenge.

"Do you not have the courage to face me on the battlefield?"

Carlos averted his gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "I mean no disrespect, Mercutio, but I have no desire to engage in such violence. Perhaps we could resolve this matter peacefully."

Mercutio scoffed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Peaceful? Bah! You dishonour yourself and all those around you with your cowardice."

He stepped forward, his chin raised defiantly. "If you will not fight, then I shall take your place and show you how a true warrior conducts himself."

Before Carlos could protest, Mercutio had already turned to face Tybalt, his sword drawn and his stance ready.

"En garde, Tybalt!" he called out, his voice ringing with a mixture of anger and excitement. "Let us see who is the better swordsman!"

Tybalt and Mercutio drew their swords, the blades gleaming in the sunlight as they began to duel.

The sound of steel clashing against steel echoed through the streets as the two men traded fierce blows, their movements swift and precise.

Sensing the escalating tension, Carlos attempted to intervene, stepping between the combatants in a desperate bid to stop the fighting.

However, Tybalt, blinded by rage, lashed out with his sword, aiming to strike Carlos but instead catching Mercutio in the chest.

Mercutio cried out in pain as the blade pierced his flesh, crimson blood spilling onto the cobblestones. He staggered backward, his own sword slipping from his grasp as he clutched at the wound.

Tybalt, realising his mistake, hesitated for a moment, his expression a mix of shock and regret.

The brief pause was all Carlos needed to seize Tybalt's sword arm, wrestling the weapon from his grip and forcing him to the ground. Mercutio, his strength fading, collapsed to his knees, his laboured breaths echoing in the stunned silence that had fallen over the scene.

Mercutio drew his final, shuddering breath, his body racked with agony. He turned to his friend Carlos, pain etched across his face.

"Alas, dear friend, I fear my end is nigh," Mercutio said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This wound, it burns like fire, sapping my strength with every passing moment."

Carlo grasped Mercutio's hand, tears welling in his eyes. "Speak not of such things, good Mercutio. You shall recover, I promise you."

Mercutio managed a weak smile. "Nay, Romeo, my time has come. Promise me, promise me you'll not forget me." Romeo nodded solemnly, a single tear cascading down his cheek.

"I shall never forget you, my dearest friend."

Carlos's heart ached with unbearable sorrow as he held Mercutio's hand tightly. "Your memory will live on in my heart forever, Mercutio," he vowed, his voice breaking.

With a final squeeze, he watched helplessly as the light faded from his friend's eyes. . . .

Carlos felt furious at Tybalt for killing Mercutio. The death of his dear friend had left him overcome with rage.

How dare Tybalt take Mercutio's life in such a callous manner? Carlos seethed with anger, his fists clenched as he replayed the tragic events in his mind.

In that moment, all Carlos could think about was avenging Mercutio. The thirst for retribution burned within him, clouding his judgment.

He knew he had to confront Tybalt, to make him pay for this heinous act. Carlos was determined to ensure justice was served, no matter the cost. His grief had morphed into a fierce, unyielding desire for vengeance.

Carlos scanned the area, his eyes narrowing as he searched for Tybalt. The coward had fled, leaving chaos and heartbreak in his wake. Carlos's rage intensified with every passing second, knowing that Tybalt had not only taken Mercutio's life but had also escaped without facing the consequences of his actions.

The thought of Tybalt's cowardice fueled his resolve, and he vowed to track him down, no matter how long it took or how far he had to go.

Determined and unwavering, Carlos rose to his feet, his mind singularly focused on his mission. He would hunt Tybalt to the ends of the earth if necessary, driven by a mix of grief and fury.

The streets that once seemed familiar now felt like a labyrinth he had to navigate to find his enemy.

As he moved forward, each step was a promise to Mercutio: justice would be served, and the pain inflicted upon his friend would not go unanswered.

Carlos and Tybalt found each other in the dimly lit alleyway, the tension between the two palpable. They circled one another, eyes locked, hands gripping their weapons tightly.

Without warning, Tybalt lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air. Carlos parried the attack, the sound of steel clashing against steel echoing through the narrow passage. The two men traded blows, their movements quick and precise, each one trying to gain the upper hand.

The fight raged on, neither man willing to back down. Tybalt's attacks grew more frenzied, his desperation fueling his strikes.

Carlos, however, remained calm and focused, his counterattacks landing with devastating precision.

In a final, desperate attempt, Tybalt made one last lunge.

But Carlos was ready, and with a swift, decisive movement, he plunged his blade deep into Tybalt's chest. Tybalt's eyes widened in shock, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Carlos stood over Tybalt's lifeless body, his chest heaving with the adrenaline of the fight. The rage that had fueled him moments ago began to ebb, replaced by a heavy, somber silence.

He glanced up at the darkened sky, a sense of emptiness washing over him as he realized that, despite his victory, the void left by Mercutio's death could never truly be filled.

Realising what he has done, Carlos fled in a panic. The weight of his actions overwhelmed him, and he knew he could not face the consequences.

The Prince arrived on the scene, his expression grave.

With a booming voice, he declared, "Carlos, your crimes for killing Tybalt are unforgivable. You are hereby banished from Aragonia, effective immediately. You must leave our lands at once and never return, lest you face the full extent of our justice."

Carlos trembled, knowing there was no arguing with the Prince's decree.

You crumpled to the floor, the news of your cousin Tybalt's death and your husband Carlos' banishment hitting you like a tidal wave. Tears streamed down your face as you clutched the letter that had delivered such devastating news.

The room seemed to spin, and you felt an unbearable weight pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The love you had for Carlos was now intertwined with the grief and anger over Tybalt's demise, leaving you torn and shattered.

Days turned into nights, and the sorrow did not relent. You wandered through your home, haunted by memories of happier times, now tainted by the tragedy that had befallen your family.

Friends and family tried to console you, but their words felt hollow, unable to bridge the chasm of pain that consumed you.

The future seemed bleak, and you struggled to find a way forward, questioning how you could ever rebuild your life with the two most important people ripped away from you.

Each moment brought a fresh wave of anguish, the love for Carlos clashing violently with the grief and anger over Tybalt's death. You found yourself trapped in an endless cycle of longing and resentment, unable to reconcile the two.

At night, when the world was quiet, the memories of Carlos's gentle touch would surface, only to be shattered by the haunting vision of Tybalt's lifeless body, leaving you torn between the man you loved and the cousin you had lost.

"Y/N! Open the window door!" you heard someone too familiar say at your balcony at night.

You were about to sleep when you ran to the balcony to see Carlos, your husband who was supposed to be banished from the kingdom for killing your cousin.

"Carlos, what are you doing here?" you asked, opening the window for him, still angry for his actions.

"Y/N, my love, I had to come back. I couldn't live without you," Carlos pleaded, his eyes filled with desperation.

"I know what I did was wrong, but I did it to protect you. That cousin of yours was a threat, and I had to eliminate him."

You shook your head in disbelief. "Protect me? By murdering my own flesh and blood? Do you have any idea what you've done? You're a wanted man, Carlos. If they find you here, they'll kill you."

"I don't care about that," he said, reaching for your hand. "All that matters to me is you. I love you, Y/N, and I'll do whatever it takes to be with you."

You pulled your hand away, your heart torn between your love for Carlos and the weight of his actions. "Carlos, you have to leave. This is madness. I can't protect you, and I can't be with you, not after what you've done."

"They didn't tell anyone but your cousin killed Mercutio," Carlos muttered.

"What? That can't be true," You exclaimed, your heart racing. "My cousin would never do such a thing!"

Carlos shook his head solemnly. "I'm afraid it is true. I was there, I tried to stop them. They were trying to cover it up. I'm sorry I killed Tybalt but it was justice for Mercutio,"

You felt a sense of disbelief wash over you.

"Tell me everything, Carlos," you demanded, your voice trembling. "I need to know exactly what happened that night."

Carlos took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It all started when I was telling Mercutio about our marriage. Tybalt suddenly came out of nowhere and challenged us to fight. Tybalt lost his temper and attacked him. I tried to intervene, but it was too late. When I saw Mercutio fall, I knew I had to act."

You could see that Carlos wasn't lying through his eyes, which made you feel even worse. You walked further into your room, your hand on your face, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions crashing over you.

Carlos followed you, quietly closing the window behind him to ensure no one would hear your conversation.

"Y/N, I know this is difficult to accept, but I had no choice," Carlos said softly, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't let Tybalt get away with what he did to Mercutio. Our friend needed justice, and I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Carlos, despite the anger and betrayal still burning within you. The room felt suffocating, the weight of the truth pressing down on you both.

"Y/N, I didn't come here to discuss bloodshed and the past," Carlos said, his voice steadying as he took a step closer to you.

"Then what did you come here to discuss?" you asked, leaning against the nearest wall to face him, your eyes searching his for answers.

"Us," he muttered, looking down at the floor. "We haven't really consummated the marriage, have we?"

Your breath caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. "Carlos, this isn't the time," you whispered, trying to hold back the storm of emotions. "Our lives are in danger, and all you can think about is us?"

Carlos raised his eyes to meet yours, determination etched in his features. "Yes, because despite everything, I love you. And I need to know if there's still a chance for us, if you still love me too."

You stood there, stunned by his confession. The love you once felt for Carlos was now tangled with the pain of recent events. "Carlos," you began, struggling to find the right words.

"I don't know if I can just forget everything that happened. Mercutio's death, the feud—it has all changed us. But I can't deny that a part of me still cares for you."

Carlos took another step closer, his eyes softening. "Then let that part guide you," he pleaded. "We can find a way through this, together. We can honor Mercutio by trying to build something better, something that isn't marred by hatred and violence."

You searched his eyes, longing to believe in the possibility of a future where love could triumph over the shadows of the past.

"Y/N, I want you," he said, his voice low and husky.

You looked up at him, your heart racing. You wanted him too, but you were still scared. . . .

"I don't know if I'm ready," you said, your voice trembling.

Carlos took a step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll be gentle, I promise," he said, his fingers tracing the outline of your face.

You looked up at him, and in that moment, you knew you couldn't resist him any longer. You took a deep breath and nodded, and Carlos led you inside.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Carlos pulled you close and kissed you, his lips hot and demanding. You responded eagerly, your body melting against his.

He started to undress you, his hands skillfully removing your clothes. You stood there, trembling with anticipation, as he kissed every inch of your body.

When he reached your breasts, he took one nipple into his mouth and sucked, his tongue swirling around it. You let out a moan, your body responding to his touch.

He continued to explore your body, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your pussy, he spread your lips apart and started to lick and suck, his tongue delving deep inside you.

You let out a loud moan, your body writhing with pleasure. He continued to lick and suck, his fingers joining in to stimulate your clit.

You felt an orgasm building inside you, and you grabbed onto Carlos's head, pulling him closer. "Don't stop," you moaned. "Don't stop."

He didn't stop, and soon you were crying out in pleasure, your body shaking as you came hard against his mouth.

When you finally came down from your orgasm, Carlos stood up and kissed you, his tongue delving deep into your mouth. You could taste your own juices on his lips, and it only turned you on more.

He reached down and pulled out his cock, and you could see the desire in his eyes. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he entered you in one swift motion.

You let out a loud moan as he filled you up, your body adjusting to his size. He started to thrust, slowly at first, and then faster and harder.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. You could feel another orgasm building inside you, and you urged him on.

"Harder, Carlos," you moaned, "harder."

He responded by thrusting even harder, his cock hitting your G-spot with every stroke. You let out a loud cry as you came again, your body shaking with pleasure.

Carlos continued to thrust, his own orgasm building. He let out a loud groan as he came, his hot cum filling you up.

You collapsed against him, your bodies slick with sweat. You kissed him, your tongues intertwined, and you knew that you had made the right decision.

"Let's run away together," you muttered breathlessly, your lips still tingling from the intensity of your kiss.

Carlos looked into your eyes, his face softening with a mixture of surprise and tenderness. "You mean it?" he asked, his voice filled with hope and disbelief.

You nodded, feeling a surge of certainty wash over you. "Yes, let's leave everything behind and start fresh, just the two of us."

Carlos smiled, a glimmer of excitement flickering in his eyes. "I’ve wanted this for so long. We can go anywhere you want," he said, caressing your cheek. "Paris, Bali, or even a small cabin in the mountains. As long as I'm with you, nothing else matters."

You kissed him again, your decision cemented by the passion you shared, ready to embark on a new journey together.

"You stay here and rest, and I'll pack for you," he said, sitting up with a playful smirk. "I've gotten a good eye for fashion, you know."

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief and exhilaration wash over you. "Oh really? I'd love to see your choices," you teased, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

Carlos stood up and began gathering clothes and essentials, his movements quick and efficient. "Trust me, you'll look amazing in everything I pick," he said confidently.

You watched him, a smile playing on your lips, feeling a newfound sense of freedom. "I can't wait to see where this adventure takes us," you murmured, your heart swelling with anticipation.

Carlos turned to you, holding up a sundress and a pair of sandals. "How about this for our first stop in Paris? It's perfect for a romantic stroll along the Seine," he suggested with a wink.

You giggled, nodding your approval. "I love it! And maybe a hat to go with it? We don't want to look like typical tourists," you added with a playful grin.

He chuckled, placing the outfit in the suitcase. "Consider it done. And for the mountains, I've got just the thing—cozy sweaters and boots for those chilly nights by the fireplace," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You felt a rush of warmth and affection, knowing that no matter where you went, as long as you were together, it would be perfect.

"Here's to new beginnings," you said, raising an imaginary glass, and Carlos joined in, the two of you basking in the glow of your shared dreams and the promise of endless possibilities. . . .

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, Matilda burst into your room, her face pale with panic.

"Where are you?!" she screamed, her voice trembling with fear. She tore through the room, throwing open the closet doors and rifling through drawers, but all she found was an empty suitcase and a note left behind.

Matilda's hands shook as she unfolded the note, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. "Dear Matilda, I've decided to start a new chapter with Carlos. I hope you understand. Please don't worry about me; I'm finally following my heart. Love, [Your Name]."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she knew deep down that you were doing what was best for you. She took a deep breath and whispered, "Be happy," sending her silent blessings to wherever your adventure was taking you.

Matilda took a moment to collect herself, then resolved to support your decision despite her initial shock. She decided to focus on her own journey, finding solace in the thought that you were finally pursuing your happiness.

Matilda knew that breaking the news to your family would be difficult, so she opted to tell a little white lie.

Over breakfast, she calmly explained to your parents that you had taken a spur-of-the-moment business trip and would be out of touch for a while.

"It's a great opportunity for her," she said, forcing a smile. "She didn't want to worry you with the details but assured me she'd be back soon."

Your parents exchanged concerned glances but ultimately trusted Matilda's explanation. As the days turned into weeks, she continued to cover for you, providing updates and reassuring them that you were doing well.

Deep down, Matilda felt the weight of the secret she was keeping, but she knew it was what you needed.

She found strength in the hope that one day, you would return to share your incredible journey with everyone. . . .

179 notes · View notes

irisintheafterglow · 8 months

Text

way hay, and up she rises! (opla!zoro x you)

summary: zoro leads the crew to an informant from his bounty-hunting days; they don't know his history with the pretty singer in the bar.

wc: 2.6k

cw/tags: swearing, implied fem!reader (wearing a skirt and makeup) but they/them pronouns used, basically singer/bodyguard trope, strangers to lovers, brief guy being an asshole (and protective zoro!), simp zoro, i love zoro, can you tell how much i love this man

note: do i imagine lucy gray baird when i think about reader singing in a bar? maybe a little bit. do i wish i could sing like rachel zegler as lucy gray baird? abso-fucking-lutely. i've been listening to a lot of random sea shanties lately so this is where that came from. hope you enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are much appreciated!

“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Of all the times for you to doubt me, cook,” he says, catching the door with the toe of his boot and kicking it open, “I can say for certain, I have this under control.” His feet step through the doorway and he’s bombarded with jolly laughter, drunken singing, and a dancing fiddle. The patrons cheer with flasks and goblets in their hands, liquor splashing onto their neighbors when they slam their cups onto wooden tables. It’s warm like a hearth, not a hell, and the unkempt atmosphere wraps around him like a familiar blanket. Within seconds, he’s not a pirate anymore; he’s back to being a hunter.

And there, swinging the edge of your skirt with a tambourine in hand, was you. The lantern light catches in your eyes in a way that makes them glow, enchanting him like a spell. You’re just as breathtaking as the last time he saw you, singing clearer than the stars shining on a winter night. When you speak, it’s like invisible ropes extend from your lithe fingers, grabbing each man by the ears and pulling them in to listen further. He’s no different, finding himself drifting toward your stage when a sudden hand tugs him away.

“Hey, we’re going this way. Luffy found a table in the back,” Nami informs him over the controlled chaos of the bar. Her voice quiets as he follows her to a secluded corner, but her teasing was not lost to him.

“Pretty interesting place you’ve led us to.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he replies blandly, still slightly awestruck from seeing you again.

“Got a crush on the singer?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he deadpans, sliding into the booth next to his beaming captain. He gladly accepts the bottle Usopp offers him, taking a swig without so much of a flinch when it burns down his throat and goes straight to his head.

“What were you guys talking about?” Luffy pipes up and he doesn’t hide his grimace in time. “Did Nami say something to bother you, Zoro?”

“Doesn’t she always?” An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of the swordsman’s stomach, one he could only explain by not having eyes on you. He was used to being here alone, where he could admire you without distraction. He knew he wasn’t ready for the crew’s interrogation about his history with you. “I just need something to drink.”

“You’re already holding a bottle, if you’ve forgotten already,” Sanji reminds him. “Don’t make us drag your sorry ass out of another bar.” If looks could kill, Zoro couldn’t fathom the number of coffins the stupid cook would need.

“Alright, alright,” Luffy interjects. “Zoro’s just been…stressed. We all deal with stress in our own ways.”

“There are healthier ways to deal with stress than alcoholism,” Nami points out. “For instance, talking it out works wonders.”

“While I appreciate the concern, we’re here for information, not therapy,” Zoro states tersely, taking another gulp from his bottle. “We came a little early, so we’ll have to wait until the band is done with their set before we move in on the target.” His eyes drift back into your general direction, hoping there weren’t any guys giving you trouble.

“Why can’t we just move in now? There’s enough chaos in the bar to be a distraction,” Luffy asks.

“Sanji and I could start a fight,” Usopp offers in response, holding up the cook’s wrist like he was ready for the first punch. “That worked last time.” Zoro shakes his head.

“Too risky. The informant won’t say anything if we interrupt the music, especially if it’s a bar fight,” he replies, a fond look blinking across his face. “They’re a little…difficult, sometimes.” The pieces click together in Nami’s brain before he can stop her and the realization dawns on her in no time.

“Your contact is the singer.” He shrugs one shoulder, not looking any of his crew in the eye and instead watching the growing crowd around your stage. “The singer you have a crush on?” Zoro’s head snaps back to reality and becomes all too aware of the heat growing on his cheeks.

“I don’t have a crush on them,” he mumbles half-heartedly.

“Aw, Zoro is in love!” Usopp sighs. “I always knew he had a heart.”

“It’s not love. It’s just admiration, if anything,” he counters, but it’s no use. His crewmates were already on a roll.

“I thought you said you had this under control,” Sanji recalls with a taunting smirk.

“I do have this under control.”

“Your red complexion says otherwise,” the cook replies and Zoro’s frown deepens. It wasn’t part of his plan for the rest of his friends to find out about his relationship with you. In fact, accompanying him to the bar was not part of the plan in the first place. “Look, I’m happy for you. Honestly, I am. If you could do it, then I surely will find someone even better.”

“That’s enough,” Nami cuts in before Zoro can unsheath a sword. He nods in curt gratitude, but she doesn’t let him off the hook. “However, as payback for not telling us about your little sweetheart, you’re gonna explain how you know them until their set is done.”

“Says who?”

“Says us,” Usopp answers, holding up Sanji’s fist again and miming the cook punching him in the face. “Or, we’re gonna cause a scene and make them come to us first.”

“You guys are impossible,” Zoro mutters under his breath. With a deep exhale, he establishes a single rule. “You don’t tell anyone about what I’m about to tell you, understand?” The crew nods. “Good, because if someone finds out about them, I’m gonna shave your heads while you sleep.”

As with most people Zoro interacted with, you met him because of a fight.

“I didn’t need your help,” you had told him that night, resting your boot on a ribcage for leverage and yanking your sword from the dead assailant’s chest. “So, you can leave now.”

“I thought you said you had this under control,” he remarks, cleaning the blood from his blade and inserting it back into its sheath.

“I do have this under control,” you reiterate with a glare. “It was just an off night.”

“Pretty impressive for an off night, though your swordsmanship could improve.” His hand gestures vaguely at the half-dozen attackers lying at your feet, amateurs whose strength depended on their numbers. Numbers, which he'd helped you cut down when you didn’t show up at the meeting spot you’d agreed upon.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to insult me or compliment me,” you scoff.

“Doesn’t matter, as long as you keep talking,” he replies without missing a beat, following you through the backdoor of the bar and down a dusty hallway into what he presumed was a makeshift dressing room. “You could make a good career out of bounty hunting if you wanted to.” Closing the door behind him, he settles into a nearby chair and watches you tidy up trinkets on the vanity.

“I don’t remember letting you come in here, much less telling you to have a seat.” Your guarded nature only intrigues Zoro more, but he’s more than willing to leave if you truly didn’t want him present. Something in his gut told him, though, that you secretly enjoyed the company. “And, no. I’m not interested in the violence of your world, only the information part.”

“The information part you didn’t show up for,” he recalls with a scowl. You hum in fake sympathy at his displeasure.

“And my sincerest apologies for getting attacked while on route to our meeting place,” you bite, shaking your head when he rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re here now, so just ask your questions and get out.” Zoro does ask his questions and you give him the answers he needs, but the lingering feeling of disappointment when he bids you farewell stays with him even after he collects the head you helped him find. So, with the reward money sitting heavy in his pocket, he returns to your run-down little bar the following week.

Without the pressure of fulfilling a hunt weighing on his chest, he catches himself enjoying your performance a little too much. It was mesmerizing, the way you danced across the stage and blew kisses to drunken audience members. Zoro even found himself smiling when he was able to catch your eye.

“I take it the hunt went well,” you say in greeting when he appears in the doorway of your dressing room. It’s after your band’s last set and you’re visibly more relaxed than the previous time he saw you. Instead of barging into your space, he simply leans a muscled shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed and observing you remove your makeup.

“It did. Your little tip about the maid worked wonders.”

“She’ll always turn a blind eye if it means a little extra money.”

“She also knew the place better than the maps I was reading,” he adds. “I wouldn’t think to talk to her if it weren’t for you.” You dismiss his compliment with a wave of your hand.

“The Lady of the House’s true right-hand is not her husband, but the one that cleans up after him,” you muse with a satisfied smile. He’s still standing in the doorway, you notice from the corner of your eye. “You can come in if you promise to explain why you’re back again.”

“Consider the promise made, then,” he replies, shutting the door and taking a seat the same way he did the week prior. “I wanted to apologize for getting off on the wrong foot.”

“The Demon of the East Blue apologizing to me? What a world we live in,” you quip and he chuckles. “For the record, I wasn’t mad at you. Well, not entirely.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, I was mad at you for interrupting the set to ask your questions, but I can’t blame you too much. It’s your first time here, after all.” He listens to your explanation intently, like there was no other voice he’d rather be hearing. “But for future reference, interrupting me while I’m singing will make other clients I serve a little jumpy.”

“They think you’re conspiring against them?”

“Exactly. I try to keep the same after-the-show policy with everyone, so if I give priority to one person, they’ll question my reliability.” He nods, your irritation suddenly making much more sense.

“And when they question your reliability, they attack you outside the bar,” he concludes.

“Mhmm, which was why I was late for our meeting. For that, I am sorry.” Your voice is softer than the candlelight illuminating the small room and he finds himself being drawn into you again, like a magnet. An idea pops into his mind, one that was sure to cost him a few hunts, but he’s sure you’re worth it.

“Ever think about hiring stage security?”

“For a dirty-ass bar like this? Definitely not,” you laugh. “Maybe if I were playing for the general of the Marines, but here? That’s funny.” You thought that would be the end of your conversations with Zoro, but decided not to question his intentions when he showed up the following night. You spied him sitting in the same dark corner with a glass in his hand, watching you like you were the only being that mattered in his world. As the songs pass, your eyes find him on instinct and you’re rewarded with a rare grin that makes your stomach float. No sooner did you start your last set of the night, though, did a new client come storming into the bar.

He was a Marine defector, one that was trying to make it onto some pirate’s ship before the government found him. In the second drawer of your dressing room vanity, you had a list of ships and ports that would guarantee him a smooth disappearance into the sea. He desperately needed the list and, being a new client, was clueless about your after-show policy.

“Alright, give me the list. Let’s go,” he hissed once he reached the front of the stage, his words barely audible over the sound of your band. You attempt to smile and play him off as another drunk, but your amiable expression disappears when he tries to grab the edge of your skirt. “I’m not fucking messing around. Give me the fucking list.” As expected, your regular clients started to shift uncomfortably in their seats, looking at you and the greenie suspiciously. In their minds, you were giving special privileges to a new guy. “Stop being a bitch and give me the list.” The man reaches out to grab your skirt again when a strong hand shoves him away from you.

“Get lost. They’re in the middle of performing.” You steal one glance at the swordsman in front of you, the one resting his hands menacingly on the hilts of his swords. His broad shoulders become a wall in front of you, impossible to pass without risking instant decapitation. The new client scurries away and you release a shaky breath, sending Zoro a grateful look when he’s back at his seat. Please stay, you mouth wordlessly. I’m not going anywhere, he mouths back.

He stays with you during your official meeting with the ex-Marine, arms crossed and stationed in the corner of your dressing room like a guard dog. When the meeting is over and Zoro’s all but thrown the man out of the building, he walks you home and waits until he hears your door lock before leaving. He’s back the next night, and the next, and the next, and all the nights afterward for nearly a year. You start to ask him about his past, his hunts, and his dreams. Little by little, you both start to take down your defenses and trust each other with vulnerability. He’s late, sometimes, when he gets caught in a hunt; but, you always end up finding him waiting for you in your dressing room.

After he kisses you for the first time, you start inviting him in once he’s walked you home, impatiently locking your door before pulling him to your room. It’s little things that make you fall in love with him: waking up to find him hogging all of your blankets, resting on his bare chest and relishing in the feeling of his skin against yours, running a hand through his hair until he wakes up with a sleepy smile. He falls freely, hopelessly, and completely in love with you, too.

He knows nothing has changed when you rush into his arms as soon as you see him in your dressing room.

“Hey, songbird,” he mumbles while his arms lock around your waist. “I burn from missing you.”

“I’ve missed you more.” Your voice sounds muffled against his shoulder as your arms wind tightly around his neck. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, pulling you as closely to him as humanly possible. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Zoro felt at ease. “I thought I saw you walk in, but you didn’t go to your usual spot.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I have some…friends with me,” he says slowly, nudging the door open to reveal his crewmates eavesdropping from the hallway. You smirk knowingly, running the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone. “Alright, alright. Just say it–”

“I didn’t know you could make friends,” you tease and he prevents you from saying anything else by pressing his lips against yours. “Wanna introduce me to them?”

“Give me a second, baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “I need you to myself for a bit.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #opla x you #opla x reader #opla x y/n

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verstappensrealwife · 7 months

Text

Home is you - Fernando Alonso x Reader

fluff.

age-gap. not specifically mentioned but the reader is younger.

approx. 1000 words

fernando alonso masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

Seated in the luxurious confines of his private jet, en route to Bahrain for the electrifying Grand Prix season opener, you found yourself ensconced in a cocoon of anticipation and desire. Across from you lounged the man who ignited flames of passion within your soul, his intense gaze igniting a firestorm of longing and yearning deep within you. As you gazed out of the window, ensnared by the mesmerising spectacle of clouds stretching endlessly across the cerulean expanse, his voice, velvety and laden with desire, pierced through the tranquil ambiance.

“Go on a date with me,” he murmured huskily beside you, his words dripping with an intoxicating blend of sincerity and playful allure.

You turned to him, a soft laugh escaping your lips at the unexpected proposition. “Pardon?” you replied, your voice laced with amusement and a hint of teasing.

“Please~ go on a date with me?” he pleaded, his smile infused with the heady scent of whiskey that hung in the air, a testament to his valiant efforts to ease his nerves during the flight.

Amused by his endearing persistence, you leaned in closer, revelling in the magnetic pull between you. “I don’t know if my dad will approve of you, sir,” you teased, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

“What!” he exclaimed, his offence giving way to a grin of delight. “Let me talk to your dad, sweetheart, I’m sure I could convince him.”

After a brief pause, he regarded you with a dreamy expression, his eyes alight with adoration. “You’re pretty,” he declared softly, his gaze tracing the contours of your face with reverence. “D- Do you have a boyfriend, pretty?” he hiccupped slightly, his smile widening with each passing moment.

You nodded, a tender smile playing on your lips. “A husband, actually,” you replied, your tone infused with affection and determination.

His brow furrowed in confusion, his expression a mixture of disbelief and jealousy. “Leave him, be with me!” he urged, his words slurred with the remnants of alcohol. “Who is this man?” he demanded, his concern palpable.

With a knowing smile, you retrieved your phone, turning the screen towards him to reveal his own reflection staring back at him. “Wh- Wait, I am your husband!” he exclaimed, realisation dawned on him. “So can we go out on the date I planned?”

You nodded in agreement, squeezing his hand affectionately before attempting to release it. However, he held on tightly, his grip a reassuring anchor in the swirling sea of emotions.

Later, in the privacy of the opulent hotel room, he began to sober up (barely), the lingering effects of alcohol fading away as he prepared for the evening ahead. With meticulous care, he adorned himself in his finest attire, his efforts a testament to his unwavering devotion to you. As you emerged from the bathroom, your beauty was enhanced by the artful application of makeup, his breath caught in his throat, his heart swelling with an overwhelming surge of desire.

“Whoa… Hola Cariño,” he joked, his voice husky with desire as he approached you, his hands tracing the curves of your body with electrifying precision. “I could just cancel dinner, then we could skip right to dessert?”

You blushed, a playful glint dancing in your eyes. “Shut up,” you countered, a coy smile playing on your lips. “But no— I just dressed up all nice for you— so you are gonna wine and dine me.” With a gentle press of your hands against his chest, you planted a tender kiss on his cheek, his grin widening as he playfully smacked your ass before guiding you towards the door, anticipation burning like a blazing inferno between you.

Under the soft glow of twinkling fairy lights strung overhead, you and your partner find yourselves nestled in a cozy corner of the enchanting garden café. The air is still alive in the evening, with the melody of chirping birds and the gentle rustle of leaves, lending an ethereal quality to the evening.

As you sip on glasses of sparkling champagne, your fingers intertwined with Fernando's, you can't help but marvel at the sheer magic of the moment. Across the table, his eyes sparkle with affection, mirroring the starlight above as he leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours in a sweet symphony of intimacy.

With a playful twinkle in their eye, your partner reaches for a delicate rose nestled in a vase on the table, presenting it to you with a flourish. "For the most beautiful woman I've ever set my eyes on," He whispers, his voice a tender caress against your ear.

Your heart swells with warmth as you accept the flower, its petals soft beneath your fingertips. "Thank you," you murmur, your voice filled with gratitude and love.

Together, you share laughter and stories, each moment infused with a sense of joy and wonder. The world fades away as you lose yourselves in each other's company, the hours slipping by unnoticed in the embrace of your love.

As the night deepens, he rises from his seat, extending a hand towards you with a smile. "May I have this dance?" he asks, his eyes sparkling with mischief and longing.

You accept with a smile, rising gracefully to your feet as he leads you to a makeshift dance floor bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. With gentle movements and whispered promises, you sway together in perfect harmony, lost in the rhythm of the music and the embrace of each other's arms.

In that moment, time stands still, and all that exists is the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of love and affection. With every step, every touch, you feel your bond deepening, your souls intertwining in a dance as old as time itself.

As the song draws to a close, you find yourselves reluctant to part, the magic of the evening lingering like a sweet, lingering dream.

el fin

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lou-struck · 1 year

Text

They Said No... Part 3

Obey Me! Datables (minus Luke x MC!)

Featuring: Simeon, Solomon, Diavolo, and Barbatos

Part 1 HERE

Part 2 HERE

~We all get asked to do things sometimes that we do not want to do. And it's okay to say no, but sometimes you need a little extra help to get the point across.

Warnings: MC gets propositioned and S*ut shamed by a demon, threats, violence, sass, discussion of pact making, and other things like that.

Diavolo

The enchanted orchestra plays a haunting waltz as the Prince’s golden gaze scans the ballroom. The hundreds of well-dressed guests don’t capture his attention at all.

How could they?

None of them are you.

He has been so preoccupied with diplomacy and engaging with some of his more noble guests he hasn’t gotten to see you at all tonight. He misses you and your smile terribly, especially when a fake one has been plastered on his face all evening.

To help in his search and hopefully get a bit of alone time with you, he decides to drop his princely grin and walk about the room as if he has a set purpose. If he seemed preoccupied, no one would bother him for the time being.

It works like a charm and the crowded dance floor parts for him like the red sea. He passes what looks like Beel hunched over the buffet table, Satan chatting with a representative for the Animal Shelter, and Asmo playfully twirling a glass of demonus in his freshly painted nails as a crowd eats up every word that comes out of his mouth.

But where are you?

Finally, after minutes of searching the room, he finds you leaning against one of the pillars on the far side of the ballroom staring out the window at the purple-tinted moon.

He can’t keep his expression of indifference any longer; the grin tugs at his lips as he grabs two flutes of demonus from a passing servant. Ready to sweep you off your feet and hopefully into the gardens for a little stroll away from the party.

But someone beats him to it.

A long-haired Demoness with long deep blue curls saunters up beside you, “Well don’t you look sinfully delicious this evening?” She draws gently, trailing one of her gloved hands down your arm. You tense under her unfamiliar touch and subtly move a bit further away from her.

“Tell me, Little Lamb,” she coos, flicking her serpentine tongue in your direction. “What does a demon have to do to get you alone for an evening?”

Wha, excuse me?” you blink.” Your behavior is uncalled for.” You take another, much larger step back. “You should go now.”

“Oh, come now,” she laughs, tossing her head back haughtily. “Don’t think I haven’t heard of your reputation MC, a mere human seducing their way through the Devildom. Surely you can make an exception for one more?”

The glasses in Diavolos’ hands shatter violently, and their contents drip onto the marble floor Barbatos took such care in polishing earlier. “What do you think you are doing?” he growls, filling the room with his overwhelming aura.

“L-lord Diavolo,” the demoness shakes, her violet gaze wide and darting between you and the Prince, no doubt trying to figure a way out of the punishment that awaits her. “I was just joking around with them; that’s all; humans are too sensitive.”

“You continue to insult Mc,” he frowns. “Do you not wish to keep your tongue? Leave now before I take more drastic measures.”

They nod hurriedly and rush away from the ballroom, leaving you and the Prince surrounded by onlookers. Your eyes brim with unfallen tears, but you keep your composure beautifully. “Thank you, Diavolo.”

The rage inside him dulls as he shakes the demonus off his hands and escorts you away from prying eyes.

Barbatos

“Sorry for the wait, Mc,” Barbatos says, leading you into the lounge outside of Diavolo’s office. “The young master has been tied up in meetings all afternoon, but once he is done, the three of us can go out to dinner.”

You smile brightly as the butler, your hand lingering on his own, not wanting to let go. “That’s alright; I don’t mind waiting with you.”

You’re just too precious; it makes his ancient heart skip a beat. “I just have one last chore to do, and then I’ll be all yours.”

“Oh,” your slightly disappointed tone fills him with pride as you glance around the room. “Can I help with anything?”

“Absolutely not; you are a guest. All I require of you is that you relax and enjoy yourself until I come back,” he says, placing a hand on your lower back to lightly guide you into the comfortable seat in the room. “I promise I shall only be a few moments.”

He leaves quickly, making sure to be near enough should you require anything. With a steady hand, he wipes a vase far older than himself faster than anyone else would attempt to. The ancient porcelain still shines like new under his careful touch, but as he looks into the rich colors within, he can only think of your eyes.

His ears twitch as the sound of footsteps is much heavier than your own. They thud down the hallway stopping at what seems to be the door to the lounge, and step through the freshly oiled hinges.

A weary feeling settles over him for two reasons,

Firstly, The young master isn’t expecting any more guests today.

And Second, You are completely alone in the room with a strange demon.

Instinctually, he places the vase down and rushes down the hall to check on you.

He pauses just outside the door catching the scent of the son of a well-known Noble Demon. His green eyes peek through the crack in the grand double doors, it may be impolite to eavesdrop, but as a Butler, it is quite the perfected skill.

“You there, Human.” the pompously dressed Demon sneers in your direction. “Go make yourself useful and fetch me something to drink.” They smirk confidently at you and lounge back into the chaise as if they own the place.

It grinds Barbatos’ gears, but he doesn’t interfere yet; the mantra ’a good butler does not make a scene.’ replays in his head as if it is a warning, but his hand is already on the doorknob before you even reply to the rude Demon.

“Excuse me?” you say with a composure that makes his heart flutter, “But I believe you have mistaken me for someone else; I do not work here; perhaps one of the Little D’s would be able to assist you.”

He scoffs as if he had never been told no before. “I am a very important guest of the Crown Prince; you are nothing. If I want you to grab me something, you will get it for me.”

“I already told you I do not work at the palace; I have business with Lord Diavolo just the same as you do,” you explain again.

“You speak as if we are equals; perhaps I need to teach you a lesson,” they spit, uncurling their barbed tail and pointing it threateningly in your direction. Your eyes widen a bit, and you subtly shift in your seat; Barbatos spots thin tendrils of magic already at your fingertips in case the entitled demon attacks.

He can watch no longer- Stepping into the room without his usual polite smile, “That’s quite enough; your disrespectful behavior is not tolerated in this castle.” At Barabatos’ entrance, the Demon begins to shake something fierce as whispers of what the butler does to threats to the crown replay themselves in his ears.

Barbaots tries to hide the softness he feels when he sees the way the fear of your features falls away in his presence.

Although it is immensely satisfying to watch someone who was once so proud and entitled backtrack and blubber out a seemingly endless stream of apologies and excuses to you, Barbatos is in desperate need of your quality time, and this imbecile is getting in the way of that.

“Furthermore, why would you ever ask them to do something for you that you are clearly capable of yourself,” he asks, smiling maliciously, leaning close to the trembling Demon’s ear. “Are You Helpless? If that’s so, why should someone as pathetic as you ever request an audience with the future king?”

“R-right, s-sorry,” he mumbles, scurrying out of the lounge as if he were a rat. The thought of such sends a shudder through him as he turns his attention back to you. Your shoulders are stiff and rigid, your breaths come out shakily, but you are unharmed, and that’s all that matters.

“Little Rose,” he asks in a feather-light voice, crouching down to your eyes level and taking off his white gloves to hold your hands properly. “Are you alright?”

You nod slowly as he rubs gentle circles into the back of your hands. The contact soothes him just as much as it is soothing you. “I’m okay.” you say at last, “Thank you for being there for me, Barbatos.”

“When you need me, I will always be there for you- I promise,” he says softly, meaning every word.

Simeon

Simeon is all smiles as he walks down the cobbled streets of Majolish. How can he not be? He’s going to have lunch with you.

A part of him feels bad about not telling Luke about this little date, but he really wanted to have some alone time with you.

As of late, It seems as if everyone else has no problem getting you alone; it pulls at his heartstrings to know that he isn’t as present in your life as he wishes to be.

Some may call his feelings possessive, but in all reality, it is love, true unadulterated love. Every time he sees your face, he wonders if falling from the celestial realm would really be that bad of a thing.

Just as he approaches the Bistro told him to meet him, he notices you off in the distance. You walk quickly across his path, a look of irritation on your pretty features that has the Angel wondering if he himself has done anything to upset you recently.

He hasn’t, but the feelings of insecurity persist, and he gets closer.

“No comment,” you say aloud, your hand swatting at the air around you as if there was a bug. “I told you I have nothing to share.”

He may not be able to see the other presence around you, but he can feel it. One of the tiniest Lesser demons he has ever taken note of buzzes around your head like a fly around a bowl of fresh fruit.

“Come on, sweetheart; you gotta tell the people what they want to know.” The voice says in a comically high-pitched voice.

You stop and stare at the little bugger. “I have nothing to say to you about the brothers, the prince, or anyone else for that matter,” you say defiantly.

“Listen, MC; I’m a busy demon. The kind of Demon who has deadlines. If you don’t give me something good, I’m done for.” He pleads, circling around your head once more.

Simeon takes a careful step forward, more than ready to come to your aid when the Demon opens his mouth again.

“What about the Angel? You gotta tell me something about him. No one is that good, that pure. I’m sure my readers would kill for a story about how one of the highest-ranking angels of the celestial realm is being corrupted right here in the Devildom.”

Simeon stops in his tracks. The accusations may be false, but those rumors are dangerous, especially to him. If his superiors heard a story like that was gaining traction, they could take him away. He would never get to see you again.

The Angel knows he has told you many secrets in the late hours of the night that would satisfy this pest of a reporter. But those secrets were exchanged in hushed tones with many tears. You would never betray him like that.

Would you?

His heart feels so tight in his chest as you stare at the Reporter in shock. “at first, I thought you were just annoying. “You say calmly, “but it seems to me you are more than that; how stupid can you be? Simeon is one of the kindest beings I have ever met; your story has no substance; leave me alone.”

The emotions that welled up in Simeon’s chest when you took his side were indescribable—making the sweet Angel feel as if he were falling for you all over again. He feels rejuvenated and ready to help you get rid of this Reporter once and for all.

Despite the pissed-off look on your face, the Reporter does not back away, throwing up his tiny hands and changing the subject.

“Okay, nothing special there. But how about Belphegor? Is it true he was kicked from his exchange program early as a result of sleeping through his classes?”

“I may not know too much about reporting down here, but I am fairly certain the best information comes straight from the source,” he says in his calm and cheery voice. With his presence known, he sees the Reporter fly out of your personal space bubble quickly. You look visibly relieved that there is no longer buzzing in your ear.

Now that you are feeling better, the Angel continues his lecture, “As for me, I have nothing to say to someone who works with such a lack of integrity. Please leave the two of us in peace.” Although he speaks with a smile on his face, his words are not a friendly suggestion. The lesser Demon flies away quickly, not wanting to face the wrath of the Angel.

With the pest gone, he turns and gives you the biggest, most sincere smile he has to offer. Feeling an emotion he cannot name with your knees buckle at the sight of him.

“I’m glad he’s gone,” you say softly, taking his outstretched arms for balance as you make your way back over to the Bistro. “I kept telling him to leave us alone, but he would just keep pressing with these awful questions.”

“I know,” he says, kissing the top of your head lightly, “But I would like to thank you for sticking up for me.”

“And you, me,” you giggle, glowing with a light all your own.

Solomon

The great sorcerer finds himself continuously drawn to the clock, the slow-moving hands taunting him as he comes to a disappointing realization.

You’re late…

You’re never late.

He looks back at the fully prepped conjuring station and fiddles with the covers of a few of the jewel-encrusted spellbooks longingly. Your magic lesson was supposed to begin ten minutes ago, but you are nowhere to be found. He spots his DDD lying face down on the end of the clean countertop and reaches for it.

Perhaps you messaged him, and his ringer was off. He picks it up only to see his blank lock screen. Your pixelated smiling face does little to ease his mind. With one last glance at the clock, he turns and walks out the door. His cape flows behind him as he walks through the hallway of Purgatory and out its doors.

He’s out on the street, walking towards the House of Lamination with vigor, using his arms to propel his speed walk forward like he is a mom walking the track at their child’s soccer practice.

The thought does cross his mind that he had forgotten a possible time change the two of you had agreed upon earlier, but as he rounds a corner, he is able to make out your figure through the light fog that settles on the ground.

But you are not alone; in front of you, there is something large in your path, the fog makes it difficult for him to see exactly what it is, but the aura radiating off of it reveals that it is a lesser Demon who is currently on their knees in front of you.

‘Well, this certainly looks intriguing,’ he thinks to himself, stepping closer. A wave of his hand sweeps away the fog, but neither you nor the begging Demon seems to have noticed his presence yet.

“Please, please, please. Mc. You just have to accept me.” it begs, a clawed hand creeping forward, trying to grab ahold of your shoe pathetically. “I’d do anything for you, Protect you, worship you, anything.”

Solomon has no clue what is happening right now. Is it perhaps another demon professing their love to you?

No, if that were the case, you would have politely turned this poor Demon down with a kind look on your face. But instead, he sees you look uncomfortable, very uncomfortable, as you take a step farther away from the Demon’s outstretched hand.

“I have already told you no,” you say at last. “I am not interested in making any more pacts.”

Solomon immediately understands why you look so uncomfortable. When making a pact with a demon, it does more than grow one’s powers. It creates a bond.

Many Demons do not understand just how draining it can be to have a pact with a demon who doesn’t deserve it.

Although Solomon may desire pacts with strong demons so that he can be strong enough to protect the human realm should the need ever arise? You are different- you have your own reasons for making pacts with the brothers. These pacts are a symbol of your love. Something he is certain this little pest is undeserving of.

Solomon decides that he would like a bit of attention now…

“Oh my,” he says, walking around the Demon as if he were as insignificant as a fallen tree branch. “Do watch your step Mc; it looks like no one has come by to clean up these paths after last night’s storm.”

You look visibly relieved to see another friendly face, and Solomon kisses the back of your hand tenderly. The Demon stares at you both angrily but knows better than to say anything in response. Solomon smirks and looks down at the pushy Demon with a narrowed gaze.

“Why would MC share a part of themselves with a demon who is too stupid to understand the meaning of the word no?” he says with his silver tongue. “They may be kind enough to turn you down politely, but me? Not so much I’d leave if I were you.”

Wordlessly the Demon picks itself off the ground and runs off with its curly tail between its legs. Not wanting to anger Solomon the Wise any more than he already has been the smartest decision they have made today.

As they scamper off, you look a bit embarrassed as you check the time. “I guess I’m running a bit late to our lesson today, aren’t I, Solomon?” A soft giggle slips past your lips, and Solomon wonders if he will ever get tired of hearing that sound.

“You had a good reason,” he replies simply.

You groan. “Still, I had been trying to shake them for at least thirty minutes, but they wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Hmm, then how about we do something else today?” he offers. “Take a break, maybe, sneak up to the human world for some frozen yogurt or a soft pretzel?”

Your eyes light up at his proposition. “Could we get a drink?” you ask, “Demonus isn’t gonna cut it today.”

You’re just too cute sometimes. It makes him feel much younger. He looks at you with an almost boyish grin and laughs, “I think we can make that happen.”

#obey me!#obey me nightbringer #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me writing #obey me x reader #diavolo #diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #barbatos #obey me barbatos #barbatos x reader #simeon #obey me simeon #simeon x reader #solomon #obey me solomon #solomon x reader

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marvelmusing · 9 months

Text

Dark Depths

Part Two

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader (mermaid au)

Summary: After growing somewhat accustomed to your new life under the sea with Aleksander, the time to hunt the stag for your coat arrives, meaning you must make your return to land.

Warnings [18+]: smut, oral (fem receiving), mermaid to human transformation, mentions of injury and blood, Aleksander keeps the reader in the dark about a lot of things, unestablished dom/sub dynamic, some angsty vibes

My Masterlist • Part One

It doesn’t take long for Aleksander to find you, sitting in your usual spot on a rocky crag not far from the shore. The tail Aleksander had given you is a dull gold colour, the kind that changes depending on the lighting. Under the sea it shimmers like a treasure chest stuffed to the brim, but as you sit perched above the waterline your scales look muddy in the cold daylight.

Ever since you were a small child you’ve longed for the sea, and now your heart belongs to Aleksander, to the open ocean and all its wondrous creatures. But being born on land means that a fracture of your soul lingers there, a dull ache in your chest that refuses to be rid of so easily by Aleksander’s magic.

He settles beside you smoothly, wrapping his arms around your waist to console you. He kisses the salt streams on your cheeks, brushing his nose against your face affectionately.

“I know it hurts,” he murmurs.

A sob catches in your chest and you shake your head. There is no way he can know how deep your pain runs. Desperate for something to alleviate the discomfort, you begin to itch over your collarbones.

Aleksander curls his fingers around your wrist, halting your self-destructive actions. Unused to having such sharp nails, you hadn’t realised the scratches you had been leaving over your skin. He places his hand over your chest, smoothing soothingly over the irritated skin there.

“When I was born, Grisha lived on land,” he admits quietly.

Tears glistening in your eyes, you turn to face him.

“Like me?”

He nods slowly.

“My mother was an incredibly powerful witch with impossibly high standards for her children. In the time I spent with her, she abandoned five children.” He pauses, staring out towards the shore with a sombre expression. “I remember each of them.”

There’s a despondent glimmer in his dark eyes and you reach for his hand. He glances back at you, offering a brief smile that fades all too quickly.

“When I didn’t live up to her expectations, she cast me aside as well.”

“How old were you?”

He swallows hard.

“Thirteen.”

“Aleksander,” you whisper softly, squeezing his hand.

“I went searching for my sister after that.”

“Your sister?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of the sea witch that lives further north.” You nod. “Ulla took me in for a little while. She helped me with my tail.”

Considering this new information, you begin to fidget with the crystal on your necklace.

“The other Grisha call you a witch.”

He laughs softly.

“They do.”

“Why?”

“Grisha use their power through song. Their voices manipulate their specific sphere of power - whether that be fire or metal or blood. Those who don’t rely wholly on their song are considered witches.”

Aleksander has used his magic around you on several occasions. A simple flick of his fingers can summon tendrils of shadows - something he seems to do unknowingly when he’s lost in thought. Alina had sung to you when the two of you were children, making the sunlight dance with her enchanting melody.

“I’ve never heard you sing.”

Aleksander is quiet for a moment, his gaze lowered to the rock beneath you.

“Most Grisha sing in pairs with someone whose power complements their own. Harmony is important to us.”

“Complements?”

He nods slowly, leaving you guessing at what he means. Light would complement darkness; but you’ve only ever known one sun summoner - Alina. But surely he could have taken her for himself when she had made a deal with him for human legs. Instead, he had used her power to give you a tail with seemingly no benefits for himself.

The expression on your face must appear pained due to your confusion, as Aleksander kisses your forehead, tucking your head against his chest.

“It will get easier, once you have your coat. I promise.”

At the mention of your coat, you perk up a little.

“When will we start looking for the stag?”

“Soon.”

“But when is soon?”

He breathes out a small laugh at your enthusiasm.

“When the first flakes of snow fall over the land.” You nod. Aleksander’s touch is delicate as he strokes your cheek, keeping your attention on him instead of the shoreline. “How are you feeling today?” he asks softly.

A small crease appears between your brows.

“Better. My tail doesn’t hurt anymore. But…” Heat blossoms over your cheeks as you trace your fingers over your abdomen. “There’s a strange ache here.”

He hums absently.

“Swimming in your ocean form will require your muscles to stretch in an unfamiliar manner. You will grow accustomed to it.”

Unconvinced by his explanation, you bite down on your lower lip, dragging it between your teeth. There are plenty of other places on your body that feel sensitive as of late.

“Are there muscles here as well?” you ask shyly, gesturing to your chest.

Aleksander’s gaze sharpens, examining you intently.

“May I take a look?”

Nervously, you glance around at the open sea and the nearby shoreline, searching for anyone who could see you in such an exposing position.

“Here?”

“No one can see us.”

Hesitantly, you reach for the coarse piece of string holding the fabric together over your chest. Aleksander had fashioned it for you, though he had also explained that most merfolk only wear jewellery and their coats. Aleksander himself always wears a belt, with his pouch and knife attached to his hip and a small scrap of cloth covering a portion of his pelvis.

The fabric covering your top half is still damp from your time in the sea and it clings to your body. Aleksander removes it slowly, revealing your bare body to him. Instantly, your nipples harden from the cold, salty air. As always, his hands are warm and you shudder when he cups your tender breasts.

He gives you a gentle squeeze, drawing a weak sound from the back of your throat. He then begins to roll your nipples between the pads of his fingertips, alleviating some of the pressure beneath your skin. A soft moan escapes your lips and your eyes flutter closed momentarily.

Aleksander glances down, a smirk tugging at his lips. When you follow his gaze, you find your lap glossy with a thick wetness, though you struggle to find where it has come from.

“There is nothing you need to worry about,” he assures you. “Merfolk reach maturity at around your current human age; your body is simply preparing for your mate.”

There’s a haze clouding over your mind, his words wading through fog and your thoughts scramble for comprehension. Slowly, you blink at him, staring at the lean muscle of his stomach and tail, the thick hair over his jawline, his pink nipples, and strong hands. He’s so beautiful, it makes you ache.

“How do merfolk mate?” you manage to ask him.

He smiles widely, cradling your face between his hands and for a moment you think he’s going to drag you back down to his cave and show you. Instead, he kisses your forehead gently.

“Not yet, darling. I’ll show you, in time.”

»»---------------------►

When the snow begins to fall on land, Aleksander instructs you to wait in the shallows for him. Nervously, you bob your head above the waterline, eyes scouring over the shore for any sight of him. Being parted from him makes you uneasy. It isn’t long before you see a strong black horse galloping over the sand with Aleksander sat astride.

He looks like a king. The thick black fur of his coat is piled up over his shoulders, the adjoined cloak billowing behind him in the wind. He’s attained human clothes: polished black riding boots, dark trousers, and a fine woollen jacket. The image of him makes your stomach flip and you swim closer to the shore, eager to join him.

Aleksander dismounts smoothly, striding towards the water as you flail with your tail, struggling to change into your human form as quickly as you’ve seen him do it. He wades into the shallows, scattering sea spray as he scoops you up easily and carries you out onto the sand. He kisses your temple as he lowers you to the ground.

“I’m going to take your necklace,” he tells you.

Instantly, your hand closes protectively around the gem hanging between your breasts, clutching it tightly.

“Why?”

“The power in the crystal is what gave you your tail. While wearing it, you won’t be able to change back into your human form.”

Aleksander had given you this necklace when you were still human. The power inside had belonged to your childhood friend Alina, traded to Aleksander so that she could become human. It feels wrong to give it up, even temporarily. He notices your hesitation, curling his fingers gently around your wrist.

“I’ll take good care of it. I promise.”

When you nod, he unclasps the back of the chain, removing it from around your neck. He places it on himself, the shimmering yellow gem nestling perfectly at the hollow of his throat. Aleksander watches you intently and you frown, eyes wide with confusion as you search his expression for any clue on what is supposed to happen.

Then it happens.

It feels as if someone has sliced through your tail, carving a sharp blade deep into the muscle and bone that are now shifting back into legs that you can’t bear to look at. The sight of them, thighs and calves and toes, so sickeningly human, makes you cry against Aleksander. You don’t want them. You want your tail back. Hot tears spill down your cheeks, the salty droplets a poor imitation of the sea that is now your home. It hurts.

Aleksander’s voice is a near whisper, but it somehow manages to cut through your anguish.

“Let’s clean you up a little.”

The wounds have closed, but the blood remains sticky on your legs. As Aleksander moves you over to the water, the sand grates against your sensitive skin. Everything is too much all at once. The muscles in your legs twitch painfully, protesting against their existence. A weak sob shakes your body as Aleksander scoops up a handful of water, pouring it carefully over your legs to clear away the blood.

“Just focus on one thing at a time,” he suggests in a low murmur. “The water’s cold, isn’t it?” A small hum of agreement catches in the back of your throat, as you bury your face further into his chest. “How does the sand feel?”

“Itchy,” you mumble petulantly.

He breathes out a soft laugh.

“And how do I feel?”

“Warm. Safe.”

He kisses the crown of your head.

“I’ll always keep you safe, my little starfish.”

That draws a weak laugh from you.

“Starfish?”

He hums in agreement, offering you a small smile.

“A delicate little thing, but very hard to break.”

Emotion sticks in your throat at the sincerity of his words.

Walking is awful. Each step feels like a knife is piercing through the sole of your foot. Every breath is accompanied by a sob. Aleksander keeps his arm around your waist, holding you tightly beside him as your teeth chatter. When your tears turn pitiful, he hooks his arm beneath your knees, opting to carry you to his horse.

“It will get better,” he assures you, pressing a faint kiss to your hairline before he lifts you up into the saddle.

»»---------------------►

Aleksander wakes before you, slipping out of the small bedroom he had rented at a local tavern. He returns with a tray full of breakfast, rousing you from your slumber as he removes his boots.

He slips his arm around your waist, draping his body over yours as he pulls your back against his chest. His palms are warm and firm as they run over your bare body. He leaves a trail of slow, lingering kisses along the length of your neck before murmuring against your ear,

“The men downstairs are whispering. They think the mysterious traveller has caught himself a mermaid.”

“They aren’t wrong,” you mumble into your pillow.

Aleksander smiles against your skin.

“But you weren’t a mermaid when I caught you, were you?”

Unable to fight your smile, you squeeze your pillow, nestling yourself further under the sheets.

“No.”

His smile widens. There’s a pause as the two of you soak up this moment, soft sunlight filtering its way through the thin curtains as you stretch lightly, reaching for your pillow and tucking it against your chest. Aleksander presses a tender kiss to the space between your shoulder blades.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

His question brings your attention back to your body, the aches and pains and the terrible sense of loss that hums inside you.

“Like someone’s hollowed out my heart.”

He kisses your temple softly, sliding his hand beneath you to place his hand over your chest.

“Your heart is right here. Even I can’t take that from you.”

Aleksander gives your body one final affectionate squeeze, before he sits up.

“I think you could,” you whisper.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches for the tray of food, breaking up a crust of bread to feed to you in small portions. The action makes your stomach flip, reminding you of your first few days under the sea, when Aleksander had fed you by hand because you were too weak to do it yourself.

Settling yourself back against the rickety headboard, you bunch up the covers, drawing them up to your chest to shield yourself from the morning chill. Aleksander holds a piece of bread up to your lips, ignoring the heat burning over your face.

“I can feed myself,” you protest quietly. The words come out softer than you intended, weakened mostly by the indulgent smile quirking at the corner of his lips.

“It’s my duty to provide for you.” He pinches your chin lightly between his fingers, a darkness glimmering in his eyes. “Humour me.”

When you take the bread into your mouth, his smile widens and your body is molten hot, your breathing deep and heavy as he looks at you, gaze unwavering. He feeds you the entire slice, piece by piece, praising you the entire time.

Once you’ve finished, he brushes his knuckles over your cheek, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

“You seem warm, milaya.”

He tugs the covers back, revealing your naked body to him. Instantly, you clasp your legs together tightly and he chuckles.

“Shall we check that the change was successful?” he asks, mischief dancing in his eyes as he curls his fingers around one ankle. With the attention of the room being brought onto your legs, embarrassment crawls over your skin.

“Don’t,” you say quickly, before adding in a small whimper, “Please.”

Aleksander stares up at you, his dark eyes flickering over every inch of your expression and you feel frightfully vulnerable, as if he can see every thought rushing through your mind. He pushes at your ankle slowly, bending your limb so that your foot is placed flat on the bed.

“I know you don’t think much of your human form,” he says in a low voice. “But tail or legs, you are beautiful.” He presses the barest hint of a kiss to your calf and you shudder. “Can I show you?”

He continues his kisses, mapping a path slowly upwards from your ankle. Breathlessly, you squirm beneath him.

“It isn’t mating season yet,” you state.

He grins.

“No it isn’t. But that doesn’t mean I can’t kiss every inch of your body, does it?”

His lips are warm and firm as he kisses over your calves, parting your legs with ease. His fingers rub soothing circles over your tense muscles, doing everything he can to alleviate the aches and pains that linger after your transformation. Emotion catches in your throat, tears gathering in your eyes as his mouth reaches your knees.

“Aleksander,” you cry. “Please.”

The rough scrape of his beard is delightful against the soft skin of your thighs and you whine as he spreads your legs even further apart. His teeth drag lightly over the flesh of your inner thigh in a playful bite and you tip your head backwards against the headboard.

He hums quietly. His nose brushes against your mound and you whimper. He tilts his head, clicking his tongue at the sight of the mess between your thighs. A jolt of pleasure jitters down your spine. Arching your back away from the mattress, you throw one hand back to gasp at the headboard. The other hand sinks into Aleksander’s dark locks, fisting the hair tightly as you cling to him.

He glances up at you, his lips parted, and you feel as though you might come undone just by looking at him, imagining his lips against your cunt. His gaze is deliberate as it moves down your body, so weighty you can almost feel it over your skin like a caress. When his eyes lock onto your cunt, you squirm lightly, heat burning across your cheeks in an inferno.

“May I kiss you here?” he asks in a whisper.

You nod fervently and he grins darkly.

“Come now, little starfish. I would like a proper answer.”

“Yes, please. Please kiss me there.”

His lips are so gentle, the barest hint of a kiss as his mouth brushes against the soaked folds of your cunt. A breathy whimper escapes you as the tip of his tongue parts your folds, revealing your weeping cunt to him fully.

Neither one of you want to break this moment, barely able to raise your voices to anything above a low whisper.

“Aleksander,” you say, voice cracking.

“Both hands on the headboard,” he orders in a murmur.

Just the action of obeying him, settling both of your hands on the headboard above you, bearing your body to him in total submission, has you teetering on the edge of what you think might be your climax. It’s been so long since you’ve touched yourself - even longer since someone else has touched you - the idea of an orgasm feels elusive. Yet something violently pleasurable is creeping its way closer.

The motion of his tongue is addictive, a dizzying circle that traces around your sensitive clit. The little bud is swollen and throbbing, every pulse makes you more and more desperate for him.

A tear slips down your cheek as you say his name. His tongue strokes leisurely against your cunt, lapping up the arousal that has gathered from teasing your clit. The moan that rumbles in the back of his throat makes you quiver. It’s mortifying, being so affected by the sound of him.

“I’m close,” you admit.

A weak sob of pleasure and shame threatens to choke you at the thought of being so wanton. Aleksander places his palm over your stomach, a warm and comforting pressure that soaks into your skin even as he pins you down. His tongue licks over your cunt for several beats before he lifts his head from between your thighs. Arousal glosses over his lips and you clench around nothing, breathless at the sight.

“Relax, darling.” He slips his hands beneath you, kneading your ass cheeks purposefully. A sharp groan is dragged out of you as he grasps at the tender flesh. “You’ve been holding all of this inside you for far too long. Now it’s time to let go.”

There’s a roaring in your ears, drowning out every sensation that isn’t the clenching of your cunt as Aleksander suckles greedily on your sensitive clit, his bottom lip grazing against your quivering entrance. The rush of your release smears over his mouth and chin, making a thorough mess of him. Pleasure has stars sparkling over your vision, your limbs tingling with a heady bliss.

Time slips away from you, passing by unnoticed with each heavy breath you take. The world is small, narrowed down to the satisfied weight of your limbs against the mattress. It takes you quite some time to realise you’ve been staring up at the ceiling.

Shakily, you turn onto your side, wide eyes searching frantically for Aleksander. Once you find him beside you, dark eyes warm and safe, the tension in your chest snaps and you burst into tears. Instantly, he pulls you onto him, allowing you to cry against his bare chest.

“It’s alright, darling,” he assures you in a low voice. The sound vibrates in his chest, buzzing against your ear. “I’m so proud of you; you did so well.” He strokes his fingers along your spine, drawing shapes on his way down. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. My brave little starfish.”

He kisses your forehead, nuzzling his nose affectionately against your hairline as his words warm in your chest.

“You should find walking a lot easier now.”

You blink at him, a tear slipping down your cheek as you start to realise something that makes your heart twist.

“Is that why we did this… to make it easier for me to walk?”

He takes a hold of your chin firmly, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“We did this because you are mine, and I refuse to condone you feeling bad about any part of yourself.”

Unable to stop yourself, you climb up his body, straddling his waist as you press your lips against his. He responds instantly, cupping your face with both hands to deepen the kiss. As you grip onto his hair, Aleksander leans forwards to meet you, lowering his hands to squeeze at your calves.

This time, there’s no sense of unease as he touches your legs and you smile into the kiss as his hands wander up your thighs to grasp at your waist, pulling you flush against him. Aleksander smiles as well, tracing his touches up your body.

“We should be heading on our way.” A pout puckers at your lips and he chuckles. “The sooner we find the stag, the sooner we can go home.”

Home with Aleksander. That makes you smile.

»»---------------------►

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#aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #the darkling x reader #the darkling au #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone au

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