#▒░ AND SUDDENLY THE WORLD AROUND ME IS MARBLE AND GOLDEN. ░▒

[perlelune]

Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way. 

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields. 

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence. 

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other. 

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air. 

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you. 

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch. 

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features. 

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks. 

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood. 

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.” 

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips. 

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly. 

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey. 

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…” 

He cups your cheeks. 

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes. 

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words. 

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind. 

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it. 

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent. 

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes. 

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles. 

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace. 

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber. 

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure. 

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare. 

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts. 

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor. 

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw. 

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat. 

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs. 

Paul’s cock is in your mouth. 

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones. 

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength. 

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin. 

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you. 

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying. 

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs. 

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes. 

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do. 

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth. 

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips. 

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch. 

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock. 

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says. 

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects. 

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you. 

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it? 

You are no one’s concubine. 

You are…

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes. 

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet. 

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions. 

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room? 

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror. 

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.  

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity. 

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds. 

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh. 

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs. 

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls. 

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once. 

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong. 

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

[fear-is-truth]

INTERVIEW WITH THE ANTICHRIST

── michael langdon x gn! reader. || wc: 980

The chamber was eerily silent, illuminated only by the flickering candles and the warm glow of the fireplace. You were seated in a plush armchair, stiff and cold beneath your fingers, your back pressed tight against the cushions.

The air was thin, as if it was being slowly siphoned away. You felt small, trapped. Like an insect in a glass jar. Langdon had only arrived at the outpost a day ago, but already, you could feel the shift in power. Even Venable—the high and mighty bitch who ruled over all—was clearly shaken by his arrival.

No one knew much about him, only that he was important. And dangerous.

The interviews with Langdon had quickly become a topic of annoyance among the other inhabitants. Each person who had been interviewed complained about his cryptic nature and nonchalant attitude. Whatever his purpose here, it felt like a game to him—a clever farce meant to toy with you all.

And now it was your turn to entertain him.

You kept your gaze fixed ahead as Langdon rose from behind his desk, the sound of his boots against the floor the only disruption to the stifling silence as he approached you. He did not bother to sit. Instead, he stood before you, arms clasped behind his back, his expression inscrutable as he studied you.

“You’re the seventh,” he announced, and his voice was smooth, like a glassy winter pond. You nodded, swallowing hard, unable to tear your eyes away from him as he began to circle you. The way he moved was languid, graceful.

You fidgeted slightly, trying to suppress your nerves. Langdon was, undeniably beautiful— angelic, even. He looked as if he had been sculpted from marble, with sharp, almost impossibly perfect features—chiselled cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. Long, golden hair fell in soft waves over his shoulders, and his pale skin stood out against his all-black attire. The dark clothing gave him an air of authority, likely because he was sent by The Cooperative.

“Tell me. How do you feel your life here, at the Outpost?” he purred, his voice curling in the air around you. The question seemed casual, yet there was something in the way he said it that made you feel anything but.

“It's...” You paused, your throat suddenly dry. “It’s fine,” the words felt hollow on your tongue, laughable, given the bleak reality of your existence here. Sure, you were relieved to be alive, the temptation of sweet oblivion often lingered at the edge of your thoughts. Langdon moved behind you, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel his bright blue gaze drilling into the back of your skull.

When he spoke again, his voice was a soft, coaxing whisper, like honeyed velvet.

“What do you miss the most?”

The question struck you off guard. It wasn’t what you had anticipated—then again, you hadn’t known what to expect.

“…I’m sorry?”

“Prior to… all of this,” he clarified, gesturing vaguely at the surrounding walls,

“What do you miss most?”

You exhaled shakily, gripping the armrests tighter as you spoke.

“I… I miss the colours. The sky, the sunsets. And the trees, the ones that lined the sidewalks. The way they change in autumn.”

He chuckled softly, and you swore you could detect genuine humour in the sound. Embarrassed at the wistfulness in your tone, you stared down at your lap, at the monotonous gray of your uniform.

“You miss beauty, don’t you?”

he murmured, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned closer. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw in the lightest of touches. Stunned into silence, you simply nodded.

He stopped in front of you now, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if appraising your response. The silence stretched, tension pulling at the edges of the room until it felt unbearable. Then, he deadpanned,

“The world outside is a wasteland now,”

There was no trace of emotion, his words as detached as if he were reading from a script. He stepped closer, leaning in. The cool press of his hand settled against your cheek, the metal of his rings biting into your skin. You froze under his touch, your breath catching in your throat.

“But perhaps,” he mused, his voice soft, almost to himself, “some beauty has survived after all.”

Just as quickly as he had touched you, he withdrew his hand and resumed circling. Every step he took only made the knot of anxiety in your chest tighten further.

The questions that followed were innocent but somehow, simultaneously intimate. He asked about your favourite book, about what scared you most as a child, your childhood best friend.

Throughout it all, his piercing blue eyes never strayed from you. They stripped you bare, as though he was peeling back the layers of your very soul. You answered as best you could, because you had a nagging suspicion that he already knew the answers before you spoke.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, the interview ended.

“That’s all for now.” Langdon turned on his heel, striding toward the door with the same measured grace. His fingers brushed the sleek panels, sliding them open with ease. He paused at the threshold, turning back to look at you. His expression was unreadable, yet there was something lingering in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite put your fingers on.

“I look forward to our next meeting.”

You blinked, unsure if this was the end. The knot of nerves tightened in your stomach as you stood from the armchair, wringing your hands together.

“Wait,” you called after him, your voice trembling slightly.

“Have I… did I get in?”

Langdon turned fully to face you, a faint, almost amused smile curling at the corners of his lips.

“You were already in before the interview,” he murmured, as if it were an afterthought.

“I just wanted to speak to you nonetheless.”

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[euphorickaeya]

THE ALMIGHTY | part 2

buwan’s notes : people seemed to really like my first fic, so I’m gonna write more about it haha hehe

summary : news spread of their creator’s behaviour to the people of Liyue, and the archons think they could scold their god for their behaviour, but the creator proves them wrong.

CW: obsession, revenge, classic signora move of taking a gnosis lols, threatening, sagau. (The dendro archon is not here lols, Nahida is granted full immunity from Reader’s wrath.)

recommended song : you should see me in a crown - billie eilish.

taglist : @emperatris-rinaka | @iyhmibyo | @nicebonescomrades

“It’s completely cruel behaviour!” Venti cried out, looking over to your throne, where you sat unwavered by Venti’s attempt to shake sense into you.

“That family’s probably suffering and you had denied them mercy! Your grace, it’s wrong!” Venti walked up to your throne, but a glare from you was enough to make him stop a few feet away.

“If you know what’s better for you, I’d say you stay right where you stand.” You hissed. Your glare redirected itself to the remaining archons in the room, all sat stiff in their respective seats, unable to look at you, for your eyes held nothing but hatred.

Even if they were archons, how could they bare such a scorning glare?

“Firstly, I thought this gathering was about my next plans as creator? not a pathetic scolding from an absent archon.” You didn’t have to pierce your spear to know you’ve hurt the anemo archon to a horrible degree.

“Second, what does it matter what I say, is this not what you wanted? A creator that ruled? I wasn’t made aware that I had to be kind, or generous,” you stood from your crystal seat, the heels of your shoes hitting the marble with ear-piercing clanks.

“I..your grace, it’s just inhumane.. only you have the power to cure any sickness from this world..” Venti suddenly cowered, even though he stood so proud just a few minutes before.

You scoffed, “please, what’s inhumane is the treatment I received upon descending on these lands.” Venti clenched his fists, refusing to take your selfish behaviour as an answer.

“Your grace, I understand your hurt and anger but you are the creator, your job-“ Venti couldn’t finish his sentence before crystals appeared paper thin right in front of his gaze. Ready to pierce, ready to kill.

“You absolute idiot. You don’t understand shit.” You spat, walking up to him, face to face, glaring into his core. “How dare you, tell me what my job is, you weren’t even anything, before I made you.” the crystals seemed to close in, making Venti hold in a breath he didn’t even know he took.

“You don’t want a creator, or a god, you want a puppet.” Your eyes glance at the sitting archons, all sporting a face of worry and tension. “You want a face so that you could do what you want.” Zhongli and Ei could hear the steps you took toward their table booming in their ears.

Loud and deafening, intimidating them to submit. “The only reason I’m sitting here is because of my gold blood,” you scoffed, seeing the archons move uncomfortably in their seats, “even then, if it wasn’t that golden colour you so desired, my head would be on display for those who “dared” to defy the creator’s will.” You slammed your hands on the table, making the archons flinch.

Ei could do nothing but gulp, her hands felt sweaty, her electro vision starting to bolt around in her hands, nervous.

“Your grace, you’re overreacting.” The tsaritsa stood, from her seat, and faced you. Challenging you, unable to take the horrible scolding you were giving them.

“Am I? Was hunting me down through teyvat, not overreacting? Was the celebratory feast of the capture of the imposter not overreacting?”You took a step towards the cryo archon, her cold glare suddenly breaking under your hardening stare back. “Was my planned execution, not overreacting?”

“You speak so much about what’s right and wrong, and have let your subjects do wrongful things in my name, yet I’m the one who’s overreacting.” You laughed, now you stood face to face with the archon, her stare somehow not wavering as she stood in front of her creator.

“Tell me, Tsaritsa, is this overreacting?” You asked, a sarcastic smile on your face, before you phased your hand through her chest, the cryo archon did not have enough time to even furrow her eyebrows in confusion before she was face to face with her own gnosis.

Suddenly, she felt the hollow interior of her body, making her gasp, shattering her cold demeanour. Her hand reached up to clutch her chest as she unwillingly wobbled, unable to come face to face with her core of power.

“I’ve given you all too much power, even as archons. Now, you think you could boss me around like a servant at your feet.” You inspected the chess piece in your palms, the cold of the cryo power radiated from said piece.

The crystalline blue glared at you straight in the face, as flurries of snow orbited it, showing anyone just how powerful a gnosis was.

“You don’t respect me, there’s not enough years of devotion under any of your belts to even come close to respecting me.” The six archons in the room now stood in fear, anxiousness of their creator.

A thud was heard, it was obvious that it was from the tsaritsa, who lost all of her strength in standing herself up, putting up a ground.

The tsaritsa could on stare at you in betrayal, in shock. How could a god she worshipped so passionately, take away their blessings so quickly?

“What can we do to have you forgive us, your grace? Say the word and we’ll do it,” the hydro archon stood up from her seat, desperation and a desire to please her god written all over her place.

A silence took over the room for a bit, you seemed like your were contemplating, even maybe taking in the hydro archon’s question, even the rest of the archons peaked their ears, trying to find out what would return their kind and generous creator back up to the surface.

It felt like days before you could answer, a laugh left your divine lips, you laughed out of mocking, of sarcasm, as the archons felt their hope slowly diminish at your heartless and emotionless laugh.

“If you think you can earn my forgiveness, you’re better off earning something else.”

[ymechi]

Chatlog Part 1

author's note: this might turn into a series I am unsure I hope you guys enjoy this. Once again English is not my first language I apologize for the writing. -This series is about how people in teyvat see the conversation between the creator and their companion for us irl it's just chat messages in co-op. -Spoilers for the recent archon quest 4.1 -GN reader (might change that in the future) TW: nothing so far usual cult stuff

Ajax grimaced and glared at the Gardes holding him down. The posh marble floor reflected his annoyed visage and he had half a mind to destroy the expensive flooring. The Gardes were speaking about him as if he was not there listening to everything they said. They paid him no mind talking about things like the Fortress, the Oratrice, and arrest. Ajax paid them no mind he was far too annoyed to listen in. This vacation was getting worse and worse.

Then the traveler came, no it was their grace.

Suddenly this moment was more tolerable than it would not have been. The Gardes talking quieted and everyone was hypervigilant of the traveler. It seems their Grace was not alone, next to them their companion was walking behind them.

Their grace came closer it was then Ajax realized they were coming towards him. His breath hitched. He felt blood rush towards his face, he did not want to be seen by their grace like this. Weak and bound against his will where there was nothing he could do.

The traveler- no their grace stood now in front of him. Their face was neutral no indication of what they thought. The sun shined on the traveler in a golden glow. Their ethereal aura swept over the room like a warm blanket and his knees almost buckled over to kneel.

Suddenly their grace pointed the traveler's finger towards him and the traveler's face changed into a shit-eating grin.

"Ha ha! The evil fatui got arrested. Get rekt!"

Ajax wanted to cry.

"Gee no need to beat a dead horse," said the companion of their Grace through another's body Ajax could not name who.

Ajax wanted to protest that the creator could say whatever they wanted but the system binding them interfered and petrified his body. It was not just him thankfully everyone in this world seemed to be still and unable to acknowledge their Grace, except for their companion. How unfair.

The traveler who was possessed by their grace laughed and how lovely that sounded.

"Hey do you think we can visit him and prison and then," they laughed again, "feed him on a dog bowl?"

"That is oddly specific and sadistic."

"Please it would be so funny," said their grace and laughed.

If it meant that he would be mocked and humiliated to hear their grace laugh so carefree he would eat on a dog bowl and more. Ajax had no shame in that but what he found shameful, which he wanted to bury, was the feeling of wanting to be taken care of and worried over.

*Look at me they are imprisoning me against my will for something I did not do.*

Ajax knew he did not have that privilege or was deserving of it.

"Come let's go to the domain already," their Grace's companion said and went ahead to leave.

Their Grace followed after their companions and it seemed that their brief interaction would end. Ajax felt slightly helpless unable to do anything. Just as their creator was about to leave their grace turned around.

"By the way, I will most likely bust you out of prison stay put for the next one and a half months!"

Ajax looked up with a grin after hearing the declaration, by then their grace had already left.

"You heard that? our grace will be breaking me out," Ajax said with a challenging grin to the Gardes.

Said Gardes looked confused and pale-faced.

.

.

.

One and a half month later in the Fortress of Meropide the creator themselves came to the facility.

"CHILDE WHERE ARE YOU I TOLD YOU TO ####### STAY PUT!!!"

[sunshine-scented]

Can you do a Nezha x reader fluff

Thanks

There isn't really any specifications on what you wanted which was stated on my Introduction post, which is also a pinned post on my page. I will let this slide, once, however, any other request like this will be deleted. Just don't do this again okay~?

❀ I worship you ❀

: Oh how much he craves to be in his darling's arms. But considering on your playful behavior, just how far was he willing to go just to receive a single spec of your affection?

: Nezha x gn!reader

: Fluff! However, it gets a little bit suggestive towards the end since I got carried away haha~

He felt annoyed down to his very core of existence, not only did a bunch of low life demons tried to pick up a fight with the deity and attempted to steal some of the artifacts and relics he was ordered to protect, but he also remembered that Wukong existed and that made him even more annoyed.

He sighed for the uptenth time as the days and nights started to move slower and slower, as if they were mocking him in sadistic glee. His mood only dampened.

Maybe if he could just immediately kill anyone bad in this world, that way there would be any problems for him, or perhaps him having the ability to clone himself over and over again would lessen the stress.

Nezha could only think about the what ifs, but his body stays in the present. Dull and boring, stress inducing planet with it's disgusting creatures.

Suddenly, he heard footprints coming his way, the palace walls echoed as he stills, like a snake ready to pounce on his prey. Watching, wating, listening.

He pulled out his staff and prepared for combat with a furrowed brow and pointed it towards the door as it slowly starts to open, with it's stone and marble dragging against the tiled floor, his grip on the staff hardened.

Carefully stepping into the palace, you passed through the door without a second glance, meeting eyes with your lover.

His eyes softened at the sight of you, suddenly all of the stress and annoyance he felt was gone in just a glance at you, suddenly all he felt was nothing negative but the need for your comfort.

Suddenly he felt okay, because you're here

"(Name)" he said your name in subtle fondness "What brings you here in this domain?"

You smiled and waved your hand at him "I'm just here to collect a few things the jade emperor requested of me" you explained, walking towards some of the relics "What is his reason? Honestly I don't know. But orders are absolute, I would rather die than question his Majesty" Nezha followed you as your hands grab onto the small white bag the emperor gave.

He watched you carefully from your shoulder as you handle the relics with gentle movements with your hands, carefully taking off the glass chamber from the rose golden table and keeping the relics snug into the bag.

His mind starts to wander, how would your hands feel in his? Would you treat them with the same fondness you had with the relics? Would your warmth spread all over his body until it reached his very core? Would you trail your hands all over his hair if he asked you to?

Perhaps it was the stress finally piling up on him, but his thoughts were plagued by the thought of you. He needs your touch, he craves your warmth, he—

"Nezha?" Your voice snapped him back into reality "Are you okay? You've been staring at nothing for a wh—"

"(Name)..."

You turned around to see him already staring at you, his brows furrowed as his gaze never left yours "Touch me"

Your eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting such a bold request from Nezha himself, yet he stayed the same, as if he was unfazed by his own words, as if he meant everything he said.

You stared at him, still perplexed by his actions, yet, you can't stop the amused smile etching onto your face "Oh? What's this? Poor little Nezha missed me too much, hm?" You teased as you dragged your finger into his chest, slowly going down futher, and further.

His breath hitched, mind dizzy and sight complete blurred out, his head felt like exploding as his heart was beating out of his chest, attempting to separate from his body from how hard it was beating, it rang in his ears.

Oh how adorable he is to you, getting all worked up over a finger, however, you quickly took your hand back, away from his body and playfully clicked your tongue "As much as I love you, I don't think I want to give you any of my affections" you mocked in fake pity.

"You might have to work for it to get what you want, Nezha ♡"

The playfulness in your tone and that mischievous smile you make drives him crazy, he huffed a breath out of spite but made no further complaints as he started to walk closer to you, your bodies touching by a mere inch.

He pins you between his arms with his hands resting on the table behind you, never touching a single molecule of your figure. His eyes stayed focused as his breath got heavier "Please.." he started to lean his face closer to yours until your lips are barely touching with his "I want your hands on my skin, I want to feel your every part touch me bones deep"

He started to grip the table, crumpling the ironed sheets "I want you to hold me, kiss me, make me all yours all over again" his brows furrowed even more as his stare becomes more feverous, yet his stance less stable.

"I want you to ruin me with your love, if it's the last thing I do"

You chuckled, finding his bold confessions adorable as you tilted your head slightly to match his "As you wish, My prince~♡"

As you can see I have a new favorite

[kingstarkingslay]

WOLFSTAR MUSEUM CONFESSION

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the halls of the London Museum of History. Inside, the air was filled with the soft hum of chatter and the occasional clinking of glasses as the annual charity gala unfolded. Among the mingling crowd, two figures stood out.

Sirius leaned against a marble column, his dark hair tousled and his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He surveyed the room, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. He was here for the art, of course, but mostly for the company.Remus strolled in just a moment later, his tie slightly askew and a faint blush dusting his cheeks. He was clearly nervous, but there was a warmth to his smile that melted Sirius’s heart. “Sorry I’m late,” Remus said, brushing a hand through his sandy hair. “Lost track of time in the library.”

“Books over art?” Sirius teased, stepping closer. “You wound me.”

Remus chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not at all. I just needed some last-minute research on the Van Gogh exhibit. You know, for a little extra knowledge to impress you.”

“Oh, is that your plan? To dazzle me with facts about sunflowers?” Sirius leaned in, lowering his voice playfully. “Because I can’t imagine anything more romantic.”

Remus rolled his eyes, though he was clearly fighting a smile. “You’d be surprised how passionate I can get about art.”

“Prove it,” Sirius challenged, gesturing toward the exhibit room. “Let’s go see what all the fuss is about.”

As they wandered into the gallery, the walls adorned with vibrant paintings, Sirius felt a flutter of excitement. They paused in front of a particularly striking piece—a swirling night sky, rich with blues and yellows.

“Starry Night,” Remus said, his voice soft. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Sirius nodded, though his gaze was fixed more on Remus than the painting. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

Remus turned to him, surprise and warmth flooding his features. “Sirius…”

Before he could respond, Sirius’s hand found Remus’s, fingers intertwining in a gentle, yet electric touch. “What? You think I’m not serious? This is art, after all,” he added, his voice teasing. “And I’m clearly a connoisseur of beauty.”

Remus laughed, his heart racing. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Only for you,” Sirius replied, his tone suddenly sincere. “You know that, right?”

Their eyes locked for a moment, the world around them fading into the background. Remus took a step closer, his heart pounding. “I do. I just—”

“Hey, look at this one!” Sirius interrupted, steering them toward another painting. It was a colorful landscape, wildflowers bursting against a blue sky. “This is more like it! It has vibe.”

Remus shook his head, laughing again. “You really can’t resist, can you?”

“I’m just trying to get your mind off that ‘talk’ we’re having,” Sirius said, winking. “But if you want to discuss my feelings about you among the flowers, I’m all for it.”

The air crackled between them, teasing and warm. Remus turned serious for a moment, his expression softening. “I do want to, Sirius. I just—”

“Remus, come here,” Sirius interrupted again, this time pulling him closer to a painting of a moonlit forest. “Look at how the light falls through the trees. Isn’t it magical?”

“Magical, yes,” Remus said, heart fluttering. “But not nearly as enchanting as this moment.”

Sirius glanced sideways, caught off guard. “Oh? You think so?”

“I do.” Remus took a deep breath, gathering courage. “Maybe we could create our own kind of art together?”

“Are we talking about painting?” Sirius teased, his heart racing.

“Maybe something more… personal,” Remus said, a hint of shyness in his voice.

Sirius’s breath caught. “You mean—”

Before he could finish, Remus leaned in, closing the gap between them, and pressed a soft kiss to Sirius’s lips. It was tentative at first, but then Sirius responded, melting into it, wrapping his arms around Remus’s waist.

When they finally pulled away, both were breathless, faces flushed. “Wow,” Sirius said, a grin spreading across his face. “I’m definitely going to need to update my notes on art appreciation.”

Remus chuckled, relief washing over him. “So, is this what they mean by ‘art in motion’?”

“Something like that,” Sirius replied, his eyes sparkling. “And I think I’d like to create a lot more art with you.”

With that, they stepped back into the gallery, hands intertwined, ready to explore both the masterpieces around them and the adventure unfolding between them.

[anothermarkedone]

I'm too old to get adopted, right?

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: This is inspired by this post by @aprill-99 Feedback is always appreciated!

Xaden had no idea where he was, but he certainly wasn't in Navarre. It stands on the edge of a beautiful town spread out over rolling, steep hills. A dark blue river meanders through the landscape into the sea.

Xaden feels through his bond with Sgaeyl, but it's as if she isn't there. Xaden sighs, he has no weapons and no Sgaeyl. He tries his powers, which luckily work.

Wary, Xaden walks into town, hoping he can get a better idea of where he is. Around him he sees buildings made of white marble, warm sandstone and red stone.

A large mansion catches Xaden's attention. It is large, made of white marble with accents of dark wood. It was safe to say that Xaden has never seen such architecture in Navarre, or in Poromiel.

Suddenly there is a tall man standing in front of him with dark hair, golden-brown skin and- are those wings? Out of the corner of his eye, Xaden sees another man, this one pale with striking violet eyes, and before Xaden can react, he is unconscious.

-

Xaden wakes up with a start and sits up abruptly. He lies on a red lounger in a dark room, lit by the fireplace on his right.

Alert, Xaden scans the room and his eyes fall on a man behind a large desk. Xaden tries to move as softly as possible so that he can surprise the man and escape. But the man turns out to have really fucking good hearing, because he looks up from his papers, straight into Xaden's eyes.

“So let me see if I have it right,” the man says. "You have immense shadow power, incredible combat skills, height, tattoos, secrets, dead parents, a thirst for revenge, the weight of the world on your shoulders, a rebellion to lead, and..." he looks at his papers and tilts his head, “a dragon?”

'He probably has the same signet as Aetos,’ Xaden thinks to himself as he takes a defensive stance.

The man waves his hand dismissively, "I'm not going to hurt you." He adds with a grin, “see it for yourself.”

Xaden directs his second signet to the man and reads his true intentions in his head. The man truly has no intention of harming him. Slightly put at ease, Xaden decides to listen to the man.

"Well could I know your name first before I tell you my life story?" demands Xaden. The man smiles showing his white teeth. "Rhysand, high lord of the Night Court." Xaden has never heard of such a place, but mentally shrugs.

"Yes? I mean, there's also my girlfriend and 107 people under my protection, but-" Before Xaden can finish his sentence, Rhysand, ‘the high lord of the Night Court’, frantically flips through the pile of papers on his desk.

"This is the hyper-intelligent girlfriend with unprecedented lightning powers? The one you speak to telepathically and permanently nickname?" he looks expectantly.

Xaden decides to humor the man, "I only have one girlfriend. A bit offended that you would think otherwise."

Rhysand nods enthusiastically before scribbling something on a piece of paper. "Adopted. The rebellion thing is taken care of. Me and your aunts and uncles have this. Your new mother will need some time to add you and your mate to the family portrait in the gallery."

Xaden abruptly interrupts, "I'm sorry, my new mother?" Rhysand nods enthusiastically. "That's right, your bedroom is upstairs, the knives are in the training ring, the family dinner is every Thursday, you don't get any pocket money, but you have unlimited access to my finances and the curfew is...." Rhysand puts a finger thoughtfully on his chin, “…never.”

Rhysand stands up, "any questions?" Xaden mentally nods, ‘yeah, what the fuck?!’ Rhysand chuckles as if he heard it.

"Okay, crash course. So my name is Rhysand, I am 538 years old and the high lord of the Night Court and your new father." Xaden sputters in shock "538 years?!" "My wife and mate is Feyre, she is 21 years old and she is the high lady, we have a son Nyx, your brother." Rhysand opens his mouth, but Xaden cuts him off before he can say anything. “I'm….older than your wife?” Rhysand nods, "she'll be happy to have another son, Fae pregnancies are very difficult you know. But she'll be super excited to hear that we adopted you."

Xaden interrupts him again, "I'm still older than her." “Did I fucking stutter?” Rhysand asks with a raised eyebrow. Xaden gapes at him, "no sir." Rhysand nods happily, before paling, "don't tell your mother I swore or she'll refuse to give me soup." He ignores the disbelieving look Xaden gives him and continues introducing Xaden's ‘new family’.

Suddenly another winged man walks around the corner. “Ah, Rhys, we found them,” he says in a deep voice. Rhysand nods and gestures for Xaden to follow along. "Son, this is your Uncle Cassian, he is the general of my army, the two of you will work closely together to ensure that this rebellion of yours succeeds." 'Uncle' Cassian gives Xaden a big grin, "finally another nephew!"

“We found your friends, including my daughter-in-law,” Rhysand explains after seeing Xadens questioning look, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he says “daughter-in-law.”

When the three walk into the foyer, Xaden sees his self-made family. Garrick, Bodhi, Liam, Imogen, and Quinn. Behind his family is Violet, along with her squad, Rhiannon, Ridoc and Sawyer and her brother, Brennan.

Garrick, Liam and Bodhi immediately walk up to Xaden and after a quick hug they start asking hundreds of questions. Xaden calls the other riders over and explains what happened.

"You're adopted?" Bodhi asks incredulously. “Seriously man, he just says we can finally win the rebellion and that's what you get out of it?”

Bodhi shrugs, "It's not every day that you hear that your cousin has been adopted by a 538 year old man and a 21 year old woman who is 2 years younger than the literal man she’s adopting."

"Okay kids," Rhysand claps his hands together and looks at everyone enthusiastically, "let's make sure you win the rebellion."

-

After Rhysand introduces the rest of Xaden's new family, including his new mother, who doesn't even seem shocked when Rhysand tells them that Xaden is their new son, and that he is two years older than her.

He then gives everyone an explanation of his army, what species they are and what their signets, or powers, are, the riders took the Fae to the hidden cave where Bodhi said they left their dragons.

The moment the group walks into the cave, Cassian gives a loud scream. Xaden looks over and sees that Cassian is hanging on to a very irritated Azriel like a koala with a scared look.

“What the fuck is that,” he points. Xaden looks over and sees that he is pointing at Sgaeyl. "That's Sgaeyl."

Cassian looks at him in disbelief, "I thought Sgaeyl was your cat!" he exclaims. Sgaeyl lets out an indignant huff and Cassian lets out another yelp.

Xaden ignores his so-called fearless uncle and focuses on Sgaeyl, prodding along their bond, but he comes up with nothing.

“My bond with her is muted,” he states. The other riders nod, theirs too.

"Violet and I can see if we can make a medicine," Brennan suggests. Violet nods in agreement. After the riders make their dragons promise to stay hidden in the cave and behave, they especially had trouble with Aotrom, who is apparently a dragon version of his rider and Andarna, the group walks back to the mansion in town. Cassian continues to look behind him uneasily, checking to see if the dragons are coming to attack him.

Violet walks up next to Xaden and hooks her arm through his, "so, adopted huh, I never expected my future mother-in-law and I to be the same age." Xaden grins, "mother-in-law?" Violet rolls her eyes and punches him in the arm.

“Shut up, you're the one in a ridiculously hilarious situation.”

-

The mansion turns out to have a lab slash medical bay. Violet and Brennan immediately start working on a medicine, Brennan mumbling all kinds of things under his breath, especially confusing curses.

Violet continues to throw grinning looks his way and she and the other riders burst into unashamed laughter as Rhysand deposits a winged baby in his arms and states that the baby is his new brother and that they should get acquainted.

-

Once Brennan and Violet perfect the medicine, they hand it out in cups.

“Well, bottoms up,” Garrick says, before putting the cup to his mouth.

Xaden follows suit and immediately feels the bond with Sgaeyl opening. "That was interesting," Sgaeyl says disinterestedly, a complete contrast to what she just said. Xaden rolls his eyes.

"The screaming human dragon from before is back," she says. Xaden raises his eyebrow. "He brought food, he's afraid we'll eat him."

Xaden wonders why that was worth sharing as Sgaeyl adds, "he completely freaked out when suddenly some kind of black mist with eyes and sharp teeth and claws appeared."

“He screamed like a little baby!” adds Andarna enthusiastically, "the mist's name is Byraxis, he's super funny!"

“He was indeed amusing,” Sgaeyl states, “in just a few minutes he humored me more than you have done in three years.”

Violet has clearly been listening as Xaden hears her laughter in his head. She stops abruptly when she hears Tairn's angry, jealous growl.

Andarna either doesn't realize what her adoptive parents are doing, or she just ignores it as she gleefully tells Xaden and Violet that Byraxis told her the story of when Cassian came to the bottom level of the library and how he literally wet his pants when he saw Byraxis.

Xaden sighs, he would do anything for a nap before fighting the rebellion with the help of a few extremely powerful centuries old Fae, three not so old Fae and an army of winged warriors.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” he asks Violet. She snorts in response, “as if I’d let you do this on your own. Besides, this is way too hilarious, I haven’t laughed this much in years.” Suddenly Liam appears next to Xaden, watching them interact. “Will you fight with me?” Xaden asks his brother. 

“It would be my honor,” he answers without hesitation.

[amora-ledezma]

King Of My Heart

Warnings: Mentioned Cheating

Genre: Established Relationship, Misunderstanding, Angst/Reverse Comfort, Fluff at the end

Song lyrics will be at the end of this post

Synopsis: (Based on the King Of Hearts being beheaded because the Queen of Hearts suspected him of being unfaithful to her) She’s done it. Riddle’s mother has finally gotten him to doubt you. It’s up to you to assure him.

Or, the one time Riddle’s mind got plagued with doubt and the umpteenth time you remind him he’s your everything.

»»—————————　🥀　——————————-««

She’s done it. The wrench had finally done it.

Riddle’s mother has planted enough doubt into her son’s mind to drive him paranoid.

She’s planted enough doubt in his mind to make him believe you weren’t happy with him. He believed you wanted anyone else.

She’s made him believe you’d turn around and run into the arms of the nonexistent person he believed you were cheating with.

Moments molted into hours. You mind was running so unbearably fast that you can’t even finish one thought without another coming through right away.

You remember the angry sound of his shoes against the marble floor. The way the doors slammed open to reveal him.

Riddle, with his face painted red with rage and… tears streaming down his cheeks. He looked like he didn’t know whether to be angry or cry.

Worried, you asked him what was wrong.

“Y—YOU KNAVE!” He marched up to you, hiccuping from the tears running down his face.

“YOU UNFAITHFUL,” He had grabbed you by the collar and dragged your face to be right in front of his.

“SWINE!” Riddle bellowed, the hand that grabbed your collar trembled. Even with what he thinks you’ve done, he can’t bring himself to hurt you.

“HOW DARE YOU TRY AND MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME?!” You worriedly tried calming him down, you tried to wipe his tears, just for your hands to be slapped away like they’ve touched blood as velvet as his hair. But most of all, you were preparing for the inevitable.

“I’VE OUGHT TO CLEAVE OFF YOUR HEAD RIGHT HERE AND NOW!” He said, reaching for his pen.

You stand there in shock and disbelief. You ask him what was he talking about. “SO NOW YOU DECIDE TO ACT AS IF YOU’RE INNOCENT! YOU’VE BEEN OUT AND ABOUT, PULLING MY DORM MEMBERS ALONG!”

He took a deep breath. Then another. A million more. Then he spoke, more composed.

“Now tell me,” He said, suddenly calm.

He didn’t think you were worth even being angry at anymore.

And it was somehow me terrifying than his earlier outburst. At first, he just seemed irrationally angry, but now? He looks absolutely heart broken. And you think your heart might have broken too from the mere sight.

“Who’s the man you managed to bewitch? Might it be Spade?” He asked, letting out a scoff, you notice his fingers turn white as he gripped his pen too tightly.

“Trapolla?” He looks away, jaw clenched.

“The Seven forbid, was it Clover?” He started trembling again.

Your world shattered. You loved him more than life himself and there he was, accusing you becoming unfaithful.

Then the realization dawned on you.

His mother. His wretched mother—

You had just met her last week, and saying she didn’t like you was an enormous understatement.

But even if she did cause this, the fact that he was convinced in 5 days at most told you: you were severely lacking in proving he was all that mattered to you.

“Riddle.” You wince, it came out harsher than intended.

“How could I throw away the loyalty I swore to you the day we got together? The loyalty I swore to you when we decided that we’d be richer than any royalty upon a golden throne so long as we have each other? Now that I’ve realized how I haven’t been able to prove my devotion to you,” you linger on the revelation.

“I don’t know what to do with myself.” You laugh humorlessly at your faults.

“Sometimes you feel like a full on rain storm and I’m merely a house of cards.” You cautiously reach out to him, slowly as to give him the chance to back away.

“Riddle, King of my heart, my body and soul.” He didn’t back away, you rub his cheek tenderly; you were glad you were slowly easing away his doubt.

“Nothing can challenge my devotion to you, love.” Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“How can I be sure you mean every single word you say? How can I be sure you aren’t saying these words just to continue your…affair?” His eyes became cold again.

.

.

.

“I think beheading me would be too light of a punishment. Death would be too merciful.” You say, eyes downcast.

“If you wish to inflict pain onto me, leave my life and I will cease to live.” You breathe out.

“These luxurious drapes would be no different from rags, the golden pieces I wear would be no different from insignificant stones under your shoes.” Tears started pooling around your eye line at the thought of him leaving you.

“I’ve made you my temple, my mural, my sky.” The tears started falling. You desperately wish you could stop them.

“You are free to so what you want with me.” You grab his hand and pull it closer to you.

“But that will not stop me from begging you not to leave.” Your lip trembled.

“Please.” You plead.

“Riddle, every breathe that leave my lips, every beat of my heart, every. Single. Thing I do is yours.” You’re on your knees now, you don’t remember when you dropped to your knees but you don’t care.

“I am yours. Yours to keep,” you take a shaky breath.

“…and yours to lose.” Your voice breaks as you cry into the hand you grabbed.

You feel something trickle onto your intertwined hands.

You look up and see Riddle’s face painted with tears again.

Only this time, it wasn’t accompanied by anger.

“D-do you truly-?” The dam broke, the onslaught of his tears didn’t seem to have the intention of stopping anytime soon.

“I d-do not know what came over me.” He said, his voice teary and shaky.

He dropped to come face to face with you.

“Riddle. Every word I have said came straight from my heart.” You say, laughing a bit through your tears.

“Dearest, I truly am sorry for my behavior, I-!” Another sniff, he wiped a sleeve over his face.

Without another word you pull his head into your lap. He started telling you what his mother said, how she commented on every relationship you had with anyone who wasn’t him, how utterly stupid he felt he actually convinced himself you were being unfaithful to him!

He chattered on, but you didn’t mind. It was nice to have your lover back. Instead, you listened attentively. Nodding along and humming.

The floor was cold, but you didn’t care, it didn’t matter. Nothing ever did when you were together.

.

.

.

*

“Riddle?”

“Yes, dearest?”

“I love you. You ought to know and remember that, hm?”

He laughed. A boyish, melodic laugh.

And by The Seven, you think you fell deeper.

“Yes, dearest. I’m sorry once again.”

“You’re forgiven…if you stay for a bit and cuddle with me.”

“It would certainly be my pleasure.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Ugh.”

A giggle.

The cuddling session in your bed was well worth the fight you two resolved a few hours before.

Yes, hours. You found that when given the chance, Heartslabyul’s Dormleader, Riddler Rosehearts, can and will talk one’s ear off.

It was quite endearing.

»»————���————　🥀　——————————-««

List of songs: King Of My Heart(“king of my heart, my body and soul”), Tolerate it(“I’ve made you my temple, my mural, my sky”), Sparks Fly(“The way you move is like a full-on rainstorm and I’m a house of cards”) all songs by Taylor Swift

[theredhairedmonkey]

Wishes

aka the closest thing to an Aladdin AU this fandom will ever see 😏

***

As the Corona of the Heavens settled upon Callum's brow, the quasar diamonds pulsed with an otherworldly light. The air crackled with energy, and Callum felt the raw power of the Star magic coursing through his body.

Rayla turned to Callum, her eyes brimming with hope. "Callum, does this mean you could bring back my family?"

Callum grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Rayla! I don't think you realize what we got here. So why don't you just ruminate, whilst I illuminate the possibilities."

With a grand flourish, Callum launched into the song, music began to play out of nowhere, his voice echoing through the halls of the Starscraper.

Well, Ali Baba had them 40 thieves Scheherazade had a thousand tales But Rayla, you in luck 'cause up your sleeves You got a brand of magic never fails

As he sang, Callum waved his hands, and a dazzling display of fireworks erupted around them. Sparks of every color danced through the air, leaving trails of shimmering stardust in their wake. Rayla's eyes widened in amazement, her mouth agape as she watched the spectacle unfold.

You got some power in your corner now Some heavy ammunition in your camp You got some punch, pizzazz, yahoo and how? See, all you gotta do is lemme know, and I'll say--

"Callum, this is incredible, but about my family--" Rayla interjected, trying to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand. But Callum was too caught up in his magical performance to listen. With a snap of his fingers, a shower of gold and jewels rained down upon them, clattering against the marble floor.

Stella, unable to resist the allure of the shiny treasures, scampered around in a frenzy, her tiny hands grabbing at everything within reach with as much loot as she could carry.

Ms. Rayla, ma'am, what will your pleasure be? Let me take your order, jot it down You ain't never had a friend like me, ha-ha-ha!"

Callum conjured a banquet table out of thin air, laden with the most exotic dishes from across the kingdoms. Succulent roast meats, colorful fruits, and delectable pastries filled the air with their tantalizing aromas. With a wave of his hand, the cutlery sprang to life, dancing and singing along with Callum's tune.

Life is your restaurant and I'm your maitre d' Come on, whisper what it is you want You ain't never had a friend like me

Rayla tried to interject once more, but Callum was lost in his own world. He snapped his fingers, and a chorus line of enchanted brooms and mops appeared, their bristles tapping out a lively rhythm as they danced around the banquet table.

Yes ma'am, we pride ourselves on service You're the boss, the queen, the shah Say what you wish, it's yours, true dish How 'bout a little more baklava?"

Callum gestured towards the table, and a towering pyramid of golden baklava appeared, its flaky layers glistening with honey and nuts. Rayla's frustration grew with each passing moment, her foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

Have some of column A, try all of column B I'm in the mood to help you, dude You ain't never had a friend like me

Suddenly, two giant manifestations of Callum's hands descended from the sky, their fingerless gloves still on. They began to dance with Callum, mimicking his every move as he continued to sing.

As the song reached its climax, Callum's voice grew louder and more powerful. He raised his arms, and the entire Starscraper began to shake with the force of his magic.

You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend Never - Had A - Friend - Like - ME

With a final, earth-shattering note, Callum clapped his hands, and all the wonders he had conjured vanished in an instant. The fireworks, the banquet, the dancing cutlery—all of it disappeared, leaving only Callum, Rayla, and a very confused-looking Stella standing in the empty halls of the Starscraper.

Rayla sighed, shaking her head. "Callum, that was quite a performance, but let's see what we can do about my family now, okay?"

Callum grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I got a little carried away there. But you have to admit, it was pretty amazing, right?"

[tgrailwar]

Tumblr Holy Grail War, Another End: Night 3 (Team Avenger, Team Caster, Team Archer, and Team Foreigner) - FINALE

It was utter chaos.

Foreigner twirled within the destruction, giggling as she searched for her next quarry. There was nothing left of the Grail War outside of smoldering, corrupted remains.

She stopped, abruptly, seeing a figure on the horizon.

Van Gogh: "Avenger! Avenger! There you are! Now we can fight, and I can fill you in the Grail, so my god can finally arrive! Ehehehe!"

'Avenger': "Yep. I'm here. But I hope you don't mind- I brought some friends to crash the party. Now, guys!"

Suddenly, the air grew dense with mana. Magic circles etched themselves in the heavens, before beams of mana shot their way downward, etching themselves into the digitized ground and an ambushed Foreigner- as the Witch of Betrayal, one of the greatest Casters in history, began their assault.

Medea: "That should keep her distracted! Archers, if there was a time to use your Noble Phantasms, it would be now!"

Nobunaga: "Uhahaha! No reason to tell me twice!"

Two figures hung in the air, their words quiet but powerful. Focused, yet destructive.

Nobunaga: "My path leads to a world where gods, Buddhas, and living creatures all turn into desiccated corpses…"

Arjuna: "Tragedy is what will save the living. O aura of Shiva…descend, and bring destruction…"

Nobunaga: "…Nobody can stop this Nobunaga."

Arjuna: "Begin implosion…"

Nobunaga: "Pāpīyas Reborn, Demon King of the Myriad Heavens!"

Arjuna: "Pashupata… Explode and fall!"

Burning rain. Falling stars.

The arena was filled with destructive light as Foreigner screamed, tendrils lashing out from herself and the ground around her as she attempted to defend herself. She snapped her head towards Avenger, rage burning in her eyes.

Van Gogh: "Cheater... cheater... CHEATER! You're CHEATING, Avenger! We were supposed to be the only ones left!"

'Avenger': "Hehe. Sorry! I'm not 'All the World's Fairness', now am I? Now, Dante, do some work!"

A man in robes stepped forward, opening a book, pages flipping rapidly on their own to their third, grand, final act.

Dante: "...This is certainly a mess… well, if Foreigner wishes to create hell on Earth, then we simply need to reverse her spell! 'Blessed spirits overseeing the Nine Spheres, souls who fight for divine glory! Spirits of heroes that glisten under the light of the Father! Warriors of the the Faith, listen to my words and answer my call! Paradiso Canto: Cielo di Marte'!"

Two warriors, clad in golden light rushed past their summoner as Dante prepared his Reality Marble, with the hopes of containing the ensuing destruction as much as possible.

Van Gogh: "Fine! I can destroy you all, just like I did before! Eheheh... ahahaha... AHAHAHAHAHA!"

The Allied Servants will complete their goal if just one of them manages to overtake Foreigner! However, the more teams are able to overtake her, the more you'll be able to support Ruler and the Sabers at the Grail!

If Van Gogh gets first place, the other team at the Grail will be in danger!

Archer, Caster, and Avenger are allies! Their scores are boosted by +5%!

Final Augmentations are:

Team Archer: +55%

Team Caster: +37%

Team Avenger: +54%

Team Foreigner: +43%

SERVANT SKILLS:

Allied Servants

Van Gogh

[covenofthearticulate]

Anon who sent me this ask I hope you’re out there.

“You must hold him tighter.” Armand instructs with one upward flick of his eyes. 

For a moment Louis’s fingers curl around Lestat’s arm, pressing into the marble flesh with unsettling ease, staking their claim the way only another blood drinker could. But he releases his grip just as quickly, pressing a soft, deceptively sweet peck of a kiss against the pink sweat gathering at Lestat’s temple.

“No,” says Louis. “I like to watch him squirm.”

Armand lets out a quiet chuckle, not at Louis’s words, but at the bobbing of Lestat’s Adam’s apple as he gulps down air he doesn’t need. So dramatic.

“You’re a terrible influence.” Louis scolds, eyes locked on the sweet warmth of Armand’s gaze even now as the other leans down to properly cage Lestat between the two of them. 

Armand crawls with feline grace up the bed, makes the pilgrimage across the holy landscape that is the Vampire Lestat, splayed out in front of him. He lays with his full weight  against Lestat’s chest, and he knows it must press on Louis as well, the dense crush of two bodies atop his own. The dark void of his pupils seem to widen in excitement at the feeling. It’s heady, the three of them lying there, skin against ghastly pallid skin. The air is thick with the beat of their three pulses as they lie still for just one moment. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Here. Still here. 

“He only behaves like this when you are here.” Turning his focus to his maker, Louis tucks a strand of golden hair behind his ear with earth-shattering tenderness. He really is beautiful like this, all flushed cheeks and mussed hair and big glassy blue eyes that remind him of why he traded away the morning sky. He thinks about Lestat like this more often than he’ll ever admit. During the droning court sessions, the never-ending niceities and numbingly shallow conversations with those strange young blood drinkers who travel just to see them, and especially on days like today where the world outside seems a little too loud. 

He needs something to control.

“You bring out the brat in him like no one else, Armand.”

He can see the smile from Armand at the edge of his gaze, proud and all too devious. 

“He likes to show off, this one.” Armand explains, running one hand down Lestat’s arm to settle at the valley of his waist, petting back and forth as Lestat shuffles to look at him.

“Said the pot to the kettle!” He scoffs, which in turn makes Louis crack a smile.

“You’d better watch your tone with me, mon petit prince.” Armand laughs, lips curling up over his fangs to give Lestat just a flash. In one lightning bolt movement he’s got Lestat’s jaw in his hand, locked in place as he lands his next words. “I’m the only one saving you from him.”

A slow exhale leaves through his nose as Lestat recalls the instructions his fledgling had given earlier this evening.

I want to watch him at his most punishing. And I want to watch you need it. This is the order of our configuration this evening. Understood?

Yes, Louis. 

Lestat’s jaw is released and he simply can’t help himself, not when Armand’s lips are right there. It’s a mindless sort of kiss, like he wasn’t quite sure he was going to do it until it happened, like he’s suddenly forgotten how to do it, like he’s mortal again, and drunk. He can’t fucking think straight, trapped here between the two of them. Even now he can feel the sear of Louis’ eyes against the back of his head and it only makes him kiss harder because Armand’s lips are so fucking soft it feels sacrilegious to kiss them, like he’s tainting some sacred work of art. 

SNAP!

It’s the noise of the crop that startles him more than the sting, but still he jerks away on instinct, only to be stuck again, harder and in merciless succession.

“Again,” says Louis, and Armand complies. 

SNAP. 

“Again.”

SNAP.

“Again.”

SNAP.

Faster now.

“Again.” SNAP.

“Again.” SNAP.

“Again.” SNAP.

Deep breath.

“Again.” SNAP. “Again.” SNAP. “Again.” SNAP. “Again.” SNAP.

Silence. 

Louis can smell the adrenaline in his maker’s blood. He’s nearly there. 

It’s an exercise in trust, this agreement. Armand, the expert cipher, who can untangle the mess of thoughts hiding beneath that mane of yellow hair. And Louis the Romantic, who knows his lover’s limits by virtue of carving them out with his two bare hands. 

They move as one; Louis smooths his hand down Lestat’s thigh until he’s met with the thick angry welts, smearing his fingers across the trickling of blood only to offer his hand to Armand. 

Plump lips welcome those fingers with a soft hum as he settles in Lestat’s lap, sat astride his hips and towering over him with that unwavering gaze. He’s got Lestat pinned with one hand on his chest as he grazes his fang against Louis’ finger, whimpering as the first droplets land on his tongue. Louis and Lestat. Together. Twin flames reunited in the dark devotion of Armand’s mouth. Who else among them has done this, tasted master and fledgling as one? He swipes his tongue across the pad of Louis finger again and again, greedy, until some small noise pulls him from the swoon and he finds himself looking down at Lestat, who stares with wide glossy eyes and a wide open mouth.

“Look at you.” Armand tuts. He traces the outline of his jaw before bringing his thumb to Lestat’s lip, gently pushing until he can see the pearly white fang beneath. Slowly, he slides the pad of his thumb against the gumline, rubbing small persistent circles against the precious nerves where the fang meets the flesh. 

“Look at you” he says again, because honestly it bears repeating. Even from over his shoulder, Louis watches in rapt fascination, the way Lestat’s toes curl, the way his eyes cross and his back arches as Armand presses the pad of his thumb against the side of his fang, just enough to feel the plump flesh but not enough to slice through. 

It makes Louis’ heart stutter just watching.

“He wants to bite. Don’t you Lestat?” Louis observes, and the whining sound Lestat makes around Armand’s finger is utterly depraved. 

“Well, Louis?” Armand awaits his command. Patient, attentive, militant. 

Not yet, says Louis, in that voice Lestat cannot hear. 

And, as Armand’s hand retreats: “I really do like to watch him squirm.”

[nikkeora]

more

—

0 1

summary; the gods are real. like, the greek gods. and apparently, you're a demigod. were you skeptical? yes. no time to question much though.

pairing; no romantic ones (yet) // clarisse la rue, annabeth chase, luke castellan, travis and conner stoll (all platonic)

word count; 1.9k

warning(s); none

a/n; whoop, my first series! might add a romantic pairing later on, but i don't think it's going to be percy or jason or leo since you (the reader) are a couple years older than them, around the age of the stolls (who to my knowledge are 15 in the lightning thief.)

takes place 3 years before the percy jackson books, reader & travis & clarisse are 12, connor is 11, annabeth is 9, luke is 16.

—

μηδέν. mother of mine

"So, he finally told you?"

You opened your eyes to an unfamiliar sight and an ache in your back. Where were you? And where had that voice come from?

"Hello?" You called. Propping yourself up on your hands, you could see that you had been laid across a set of marble stairs as if someone had tossed you there like a sack of potatoes.

Your vision was slightly blurred, like a white veil was over your eyes. There was a cool tingling feeling on your skin, like someone had rubbed alcohol on it.

Looking around, you realized you were at the entrance of something straight out of your history book — an ancient Greek temple. A massive one, at that. Four sets of towering columns were placed in neat lines along the edge of a marble platform, and on top of them lay an ornate marble ceiling. Fluffy gray moss grew along the bases of the columns, while lighter gray vines of ivy wrapped up around them.

Strangely enough, some parts of the temple were bleached so white to the point they glowed, and other parts were more of a light, slightly transparent gray, similar to smoke but much more solid-looking. The ceiling in particular was clear enough to see the night sky through it, which held more stars than you'd seen in your entire life.

Through the columns were plains of tall grass that were devoid of color. It rippled almost like water as if harsh winds were blowing through, but you couldn’t feel the slightest breeze. The rustling of the plains was muffled, too, like you’d placed pillows on your ears. Overall, the place felt like a whole other world.

"Where am I?" Your voice — muffled, you realized, just like the grass — wavered, the initial awe starting to subside and panic slowly seeping in. The logical explanation for this situation was that you were dreaming, but the soreness in your back and the cold marble under your palms felt too real for it all to be fake...

Had you been kidnapped?

"What do you want from me?"

The voice from earlier chuckled, sending a chill down your spine. It wasn't coming from any particular direction. If anything, it sounded like it was echoing from your own head.

"My child, it is not what I want from you as much as what you need from me." It said.

From behind some of the columns, you saw the first bits of color you'd encountered since you'd woken up at this place: blue lights, bright as the stars above, floating leisurely like big fireflies. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a faint, golden light.

Suddenly, a dense mist flooded in from between the columns furthest from the entrance. From between the two middle columns emerged a wispy figure of a woman holding an old-fashioned reed torch in either hand, dressed in what you guessed were golden Greek robes.

Wait, no.. she came from between the columns furthest to the left. No, the right. Three smoky images of the same woman moved in unison toward the center of the temple.

To your surprise, you didn’t feel the need to run as she — they? — stepped closer. If anything, you felt drawn to her, like a chunk of metal to a magnet. You hastily stood up, feeling a little dizzy but otherwise fine.

The mist eventually subsided. Once the three wispy images were only a few feet away, they merged into a much more solid form, and your sight seemed to clear. You could make out her features.

Her skin was beautiful but deathly pale; the vibrant, turmeric-yellow robes with ornate golden designs that hung gracefully off her figure were the only thing that brought her some liveliness. Her blond hair was pulled back with a golden pin in a braided bun. Her face was like a Greek statue — pale, beautiful, and ageless — but her eyes were slightly unsettling. Squinting your eyes, you saw that they were a true inky black, irises and all. Not one bit of light reflected off of them.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but the woman felt almost familiar...

"You're Hecate," you gasped, the realization hitting you like a truck. "The Greek goddess of magic."

"There’s one more title I hold, dear." Hecate smiled serenely, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "If you’d recall what your father told you..?"

Oh. The talk.

When your dad pulled you aside for a ‘talk’ around early evening, you’d expected him to bring up the birds and the bees. Instead, he had told you that the Greek gods were real and that you were the daughter of one of them — the goddess of magic herself. You’d been worried your dad had gone crazy, or if he was on something, or even drunk, but he looked so serious you had to promise not to tell anybody. You didn’t believe him, though.

"You can’t be my mother." You stood firm in your nonbelief. This had to be a dream, something your subconscious created because of the sheer nonsense you’d heard earlier that day. "You’re not even real. All of this is in my head. Besides, I already have a mom."

You immediately knew you’d said something you shouldn’t have.

The air grew colder as Hecate’s smile dropped the slightest bit, tilting now into more of a smirk. A green glow surrounded her as you began to feel lightheaded.

A searing pain exploded behind your eyes, and you fell to your knees, crouched over and gripping your head with both your hands. You tried to scream, only to discover that your voice had vanished. Memories you didn’t know you had started appearing one by one, and soon they were all whirling around in one big, jumbled, incoherent storm.

You could make out flashes of images — a pale woman in a dark coat watching as a young you played on the swing set with your two best friends… The same woman at the very back of the gymnasium at your elementary school graduation... And yet again the same woman handing your dad a little bundle of silk blankets, from which you could see the small fist of a baby sticking out to grab hold of anything it came across.

The pain stopped just as it had started, and you were left on the ground, cold and confused, with your eyes still tightly shut. You tried desperately to make something of all this new information, putting every memory into a neat little timeline just to make it all make sense. But the more you tried, the more you realized most of these memories weren’t new at all but rather variants of certain memories that you had never been able to recall in full detail.

"I can assure you that I’m quite real, my child." She said. You reluctantly looked up at her, shivering slightly from the cold. She’d come a lot closer in the last few moments. "The only reason you don’t have any recollection of me is because I swore upon the river Styx not to reveal myself or anything of my world to you before your father explained it all to you first."

She looked you over. "Although I can see that he clearly hasn’t done the explaining very well. As for your ‘mom’ — Delilah, was it? — I’m afraid she has no idea of anything, poor dear." She tsked, a bored look on her face.

"If I’m really your daughter, prove it." You spat, your throat hurting from trying to scream too much. Your head was still pounding. "Prove to me that this isn’t all some crazy dream. One of my nightmares."

"Nightmares?" Well, that certainly piqued her interest. "Tell me about these nightmares."

"I don’t know; they’re nightmares. Everyone has them." You were becoming irritated. Whether or not this was a dream or reality, one thing was for certain: you did not like the goddess of magic one bit. "Sometimes I’d have them a couple nights in a row, and they’d all connect, but they’re still just nightmares."

"Ah, but you see, a demigod’s dreams are quite special." Hecate said, smiling widely once again. "They often convey messages or show what may happen in the future. Tell me, have any of your nightmares come true?"

Your heart skipped a beat. You remembered one time you dreamt of your parents getting in a car crash. They were hit by a drunk driver on the way home from work only two days later. You’d stayed over at your best friends’ house for over a week so that their mom could take care of you when your parents were at the hospital.

"This isn’t giving me proof, mom." You said instead, not wanting to tell Hecate much about anything. You didn’t trust her, and giving her more information on you when she’d clearly been keeping well up to date on your life without your knowledge wasn’t beneficial for you. "Saying things isn’t going to make me believe. I need something solid, something real."

You took a deep breath as one of her eyebrows arched up. With her void-looking eyes, you couldn’t tell if she was amused or annoyed at what you had just said.

Then her smile grew wider.

"As I’ve said, child, you need something from me — or rather, some things would be more accurate, I suppose. Being a demigod comes with a few chinks and perks, and you’ll need my help to control and survive them."

"Wait, wait, wait. What the hell do you mean, ‘survive’? Am I in danger?"

"Why, of course." Hecate seemed almost gleeful at the mention of danger.

‘Some mother she is’, you thought.

"Danger comes naturally with being a child of the gods. There are monsters and gods looking for someone to smite, and don't forget the quests—"

Monsters? Quests? What kind of life had your dad brought you into?

"—which is why you’ll need me." She finished. There was a tinge of pale pink on her cheeks, as though the mere thought of tossing you in a pit with all sorts of nasty creatures was just too exciting. "As for the proof you requested... I’m afraid we have run out of time."

"Wait, what?" You were beginning to feel very stupid at this point. All you had were questions and a ‘mother’ who seemed uninterested in giving you any straight answers.

You looked at her expectantly, and she stared back at you. She seemed to freeze for a moment, then looked around the temple before settling her gaze on one particular spot on the left. Then she turned toward you again, the pink tint on her cheeks more evident than before.

"Check under your pillow once you wake up. Look after those brothers you’re so fond of; you’ll need them where you’re going." She rushed out, a green glow starting to surround her.

"Wait—"

"I’ll see you sometime soon, child." Hecate was now split into three images again, each one shoving something small, flat, and square into your hand. "Don’t disappoint me."

Hecate then disappeared. The temple began to crumble in her absence, with cracks appearing out of nowhere on the pristine marble. They wound up the columns and spread throughout the ceiling, creating shapes that resembled lightning.

Then everything came pouring down on you.

[eleni-cherie]

among thieves ✨ || bts • pjm

- chapter 1.2

"what even am I to you? your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?"

about two thieves who can't live with nor without each other. and a joint past that comes back to threaten them.

© 2023 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, very flirty jimin, friends/rivals/exes to lovers (it's complicated, ok?!) f2l e2l ex2l all members play a role in this story!

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

Rhodos, Greece

Taking a sip from her martini, Arabella's eyes glided through the crowded room. Eyeing every guest carefully before putting her drink down. Smiling to herself.

The stairs around the corner were guarded by one security guard only. It'd be easy.

"Another vodka martini, please. Shaken, not stirred," she ordered at the bartender.

A party of european millionaires in an old medieval castle had sounded more excited then it really was. It was like any other rich people party after all. The ones who had their millions inheritated, the old money therefore, was chatting about their latest vacations or newest luxury purchase. The new money millionaires were exchanging the latest gossip of their industries or taking cringy photos and videos of themselves. And somewhere in between they drank and danced and ate way too small portions of overly expensive food.

Her gaze went back to the guard, thinking of ways to distract or sidle past him, when she suddenly felt a hand on her hip.

Her eyes widened and she was ready to make whoever it was, regret it. Her firsts already clenching when a familiar chuckle rang in her ears. His hot breath tickling her neck.

"Nice hair, is it a wig?" He brushed one of the pink curls back. His fingers against her shoulder making her hinch a breath

.

A dry laugh escaped her lips then as she unintentionally leaned into his touch. "None of your business."

"Feisty as always, I missed that," Jimin smirked and let go abrubtly, appearing from behind her. He leaned against the marble counter next to her. Not even try hiding how he shamelessy checked her out in that long black dress with the deep slit on the side of her leg. Allowing it to peek through whenever she moved. 

She huffed when noticing, crossing her arms in front of her.

"What are you even doing here? Trying to kill me again?"

His brows rose, a puzzled expression on his soft features. "But Bella, love, you know I'd never do that."

He drew closer then, grabbing her chin gently between his fingers. Forcing her to look at him. And for a moment she was about to melt under his gaze. "I'm here to get you back."

A frown spread on her pretty face. "Get me back?" She slapped his hand away. "There's no need to get me back. I'm totally fine on my own." She pointed behind him then.

He followed her finger across the open bar to a guy in a white suit and slicked back hair, talking and laughing with a group of others at a table in the back. Chunking down champagne like it was water. Jimin could spot the golden watch and rings all the way from where they were standing.

"See Stelios there? He's my new boyfriend. I'm accompanying him here on Rhodos."

Jimin couldn't help but roll his eyes annoyed. He knew by 'boyfriend' she meant 'rich guy who owned something she wanted', however, it still bugged him she used that term.

"But your 'Stelios' can't protect you from them."

"I'm pretty sure he got enough security."

He sighed dramatically. "But Bella-baby, you should know I'm the only man in this world who can do that."

Arabella remained unimpressed, looking him dead in the eye. Slowly getting fed up with his attitude.

They hadn't seen each in over two weeks, last time they had him pushing her away as if she meant nothing to him and now he randomly showed up out of nowhere, pretending being her prince in shining armour? A prince she definitely neither needed nor asked for?

"Honestly, Jimin, what even am I to you?" Her voice unintentionally rose out of frustration. "Your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?"

There was a hint of sorrow in her eyes, he could tell. He heaved a sigh, taking her hand in his gently as he stepped forward. His face close to hers as his lips ghosted over her cheek. "Obviously all of it."

He pulled back, seeing her stunned face. A grin spreading over his plum lips. "And now come," he said excitedly and drank the second martini she had ordered in one go. Pulling her along with him into the crowd then. "It'd be suspicious if we didn't dance at a party!"

She hesitated first, pretending being unfazed by his words, but eventually rested her hands on his shoulder as his own glided to her waist. Both swaying to the rhythm of the mellow melody.

"So when did you snap out of it?" she curiously asked then, "And if you tell me it was on that rainy day then I swear to god-"

"N-no, no, it wasn't!" he quickly objected.

Arabella's eyes narrowed. "Not sure I'm buying that."

Jimin exhaled deeply, shaking his head. "Trust me. I still hadn't gained my memories back at this point. It was a muddled mess and I struggled putting an order to them."

She hummed, looking over her shoulder to check if her 'boyfriend' had noticed her dancing with someone else. Other people dancing between them blocked his view however. Not that he was paying attention anyway. He was still talking with his rich friends.

"So tell me," Jimin smiled then, "Why are you really here? And don't start with that 'boyfriend' of yours again."

Arabella couldn't help but giggle at his jealousy. Even if he was trying downplaying it, he wasn't really doing a good job and it still shone through. And she couldn't deny that she liked it. Because it meant that perhaps he did care after all. 

"What makes you think there'd be any other reason?" She blinked confused, acting innocent. But Jimin knew her too well to fall for that. So he turned her swiftly, pressing her body against his while his one hand travelled down her hips and to her thigh. Lifting it against his. The silk fabric flowing over her skin, exposing her leg through the slid. Along with her berretta held by a black lacy garter.

"Because normal party guests usually don't hide guns under their clothes," he smirked.

Arabella felt her breath becoming heavier the longer they remained in this position, with his dark eyes piercing hers. She lowered her arms from around his neck, letting them slide over his chest. "Let go," she mouthed, not wanting anyone noticing her gun. And his hand slowly did as he was told. Sliding over her thigh and hips. Taking its previous position on her waist. 

"Fine, I'll tell you," she eventually sighed and stepped back. Grabbing his wrist. "But first you gotta help me pass that stupid guard to get upstairs."

She dragged him through the crowd until they reached the other end, near the staircase. The guard standing right at the corner, looking sternly at the direction they had come from. "Distract him so I can climb behind him over the railing and scurry upstairs."

Jimin's brows rose, his eyes going from her to the guard and back to her. Eventually shrugging. "You need help for that?" he chuckled smugly, making her audibly huff.

"No, obviously not. I'd have found a way without you as well. I didn't even know you'd be here after all. But since you are.." She grabbed his tie, pulling him closer to her level. A seductive smirk on her lips. ".. you'll make it easier for me. Won't you?"

He nodded vigorously and leaned in, trying stealing a kiss as the temtation was quite compelling, but she pushed him lightly away. "Maybe after the job's done."

He whined "You're such a tease, Bella-baby."

"And you love it."

"I do, I really do," he smiled. Managing pecking her cheek at least, to which her eyes widened startled. Making him chuckle. She looked quite adorable when being dumbfounded. "Alright, let's do this," he said then and briefly rubbed his hands before making his way to the guard. Starting a casual conversation with him, to which the guard didn't seem to bulge in first. 

However, Arabella knew no one could resist Jimin's charm and sooner or later everyone would give in. So she eased her way to the side of the stairs. Waiting for his sign. And as soon as she saw the guard's head turn to the side and Jimin giving her a quick wink, she grabbed the artful bars and heaved herself up, climbing over the railing. And she rushed upstairs, no one spotting her from downstairs. 

Reaching the top, she carefully made her way through the long corridors. Flower bouquetes on commodes and paintings decorating them. When she reached a corner, she carefully peeked behind. Spotting another guard in front of a door.

That must've been it, she thought.

According to the blueprint she had memorized, this room was supposed to be a storage. Which was obviously bullshit because why would a simple storage need guards? And besides, the room next to it was the security room. That was no coincidence.

She reached behind her neck, fiddling a little before her dress got taken down, replaced by the maid uniform she had prepared. After taking a deep breath to get into character, she walked out of her stash and confidently made her way towards the guard.

He eyed her suspiciously, which left her unimpressed, as she went past him and into the security room.

"Hey, what do you want in there?" the guard called out, leaving his post to check on her.

"What I want?" she scoffed dramatically, "I was sent here because of some annoyingly beeping noise outside. As if I got any clue how to use all these things!" She pointed at the screens and computers. Pretending being a poor clueless and overwhelmed girl would surely help. "I mean, look at all this! And I'm just a simple maid! How am I supposed to know! But my supervisor sent me here to check what it is and take care of it! And I don't know if you know her, but she's a total witch, so I couldn't just object!" She continued her rambling. A deep frown on her face along with frustration written all over it. And she saw the guard's face softening at this as he seemingly pitied her. He had falled for it and she felt accomplished. "Do you maybe have any clue how all this works? I could really need some help or she might tell the master and let him fire me! And I can't get fired! I really depend on this job! Oh god, what if-"

She was ready to shed some fake tears when the guard cut her off, holding his hands up. "Okay, okay, calm down! We'll figure this out," he said and headed to the computers. Typing in something on the keyboard and sliding his ID card through a scanner. "Where did you say this weird sound was located at?"

"Right here." And with that she hit his neck with the back of her gun, making him faint. Hs heavy body fell on the ground and she dragged him to a corner, tearing off her apron and tying him down, in case he woke up too early. She went to the monitors then, deactivating the alarm system inside the fake storage room next door. Thankfully he had already typed in his security key, so it wasn't any problem, because despite her acting dumb, she did know how to navigate through the system.

She left the room, glancing around to make sure the the coast was clear before locking the door behind her. Bumping into Jimin as soon as she entered the fake storage.

He had already been waiting for her inside. "Took you long enough, darling."

"As if," she said and wiggled her way out of his embrace. Heading straight to the persian carpet in the middle of the room and lifting it. Revealing a safe underneath it.

"How did you get past the guard?"

"Oh, not at all," he chuckled, "He allowed me going upstairs. Told him I really needed to pee and the only bathroom downstairs was packed."

She hummed, not being surprised that actually worked. It probably wouldn't have with anyone else, but of course it did for Jimin. 

She pressed her ear on the safe then. Rotating the knob until hearing it click. With the security system being deactivated, it was nothing but a normal safe. The only difficulty left was that it had three knobs, not just one. The first one was done after a minute, another two left.

"What is inside there anyway?" Jimin asked and took a seat on one of the puffy velvet armchairs. Observing her with a raising warmth as she was on her knees, her perfect little bum high in the air. The maid skirt almost riding up enough for it to be revealed.

"A very pretty ruby necklace," she smiled as the second knob clicked.

"That's all?"

"And maybe a few other pretty things," she giggled, concentrating on the last knob.

Jimin sighed, propping his chin on the palm of his hand. "And that's why you're with that sleazy nepo baby? Because he could bring you to this party?"

"Hm, maybe. But maybe he also treats me nicely."

Snorting, he straightened himself again. "Nicer than me?"

"Perhaps," she shrugged. Knowing exactly she was teasing him. "At least he didn't want me dead."

He sighed. "You ain't letting go of that, are you?"

The third knob clicked open and she sat back on her legs, looking at him with a sad smile. "It hurt my feelings, you know." Her gaze fell on the safe then, opening it. 

His lips slightly parted, not having expected this. After all, he wasn't used to this kind of honesty from her unless they were in serious danger with the possibility of them not making it out alive. This didn't apply now, however, astonishing even more. And he finally began to understand how deeply the whole incident really offended her feelings. The whole real reason she was there, on this greek island with some millionaire, being to run away and distract herself from her broken heart and ego. He finally got it.

Before he could react properly though, she had already got up. The ruby necklace decorating her neck and a fitting bracelet placed around her wrist.

She went to the window then, pushing it open and looking down. It wasn't too high. She could jump on that tree and then climb down. However, she remembered a guard roaming around the garden with a dog when arriving earlier there. There didn't seem anyone around now though as the garden was quite broadly spread. She had to take advantage of the security sensors around the mansion being deactivated.

"You coming?" She looked over her shoulder, seeing him shake his head.

"I'll better head back down before the guard gets suspicious. Don't wanna ruin your escape," he smiled then, "I'll meet you at the entrance gate."

She nodded and climbed out on the nearest branch then. Carefully getting down the tree, not wanting any scratches in case she bumped into anyone and they'd get alarmed by them.

She lended in the darkness of the shrubbery and quickly changed back to her party dress when a flashlight appeared further away.

Arabella cursed internally and pressed herself against the wall. Slowly moving to the front of the building. She looked over the corner, the other guard with the flashlight and dog coming closer.

There was also a guard at the entrance who was luckily guiding a drunk party guest and his young company to their car in that moment. Giving her a perfect opportunity to rush out and towards the gate while the guard was putting the guest inside the car.

She was casually walking towards the exit over the forecourt, pretending having just come out of the party when a deep voice was suddenly heard right behind her. "Stop you little thief."

She paused in her tracks and without hesitating, rammed her elbow backwards, towards the person. Hearing a high-pitched yelp and a groan. She slowly turned around, seeing Jimin grinning at her mischieviously. Holding his belly. "You almost hit my wound, love."

"I'll try not to miss next time." She tried slapping him for using his voice mimicking to mess with her, but he successfully dodged every one of her attempts. He grabbed her hand then and tucked her out of the gate before anyone took notice of them.

"Sorry, sorry, but I couldn't resist," he laughed. Holding his hands up in a defensive manner. "You're too cute when getting surprised."

"I hate you!" she whined- Her voice loud, causing Jimin to quickly press a finger on her lips to sush her in case they might get heard. He stopped in front of his car then, unlocking it and opened the passenger door for her to enter. She rolled her eyes and climbed in, slamming the door shut. He sighed and got behind the steering wheel. Starting the engine and driving off before any security noticed her little theft. 

The cool night breeze from the lowered windows tousled their hair as the car rushed down the road through the dense forest.

Jimin's eyes briefly glanced at her absentmindedly staring out into the dark woods. The rubies on her skin glistening brightly whenever they passed a street lamp. Contrasting her smooth skin.

"Bella?" She hummed, not averting her eyes from the scenary outside. The dark sea peeking between trees. "You know I'd never hurt you. I wasn't myself back then."

She exhaled deeply, finally looking at him as well. "I know it wasn't your fault." She paused, her eyes wandering back outside. "It's.. whatever, really. No big deal." Despite her trying downplaying it, it did still hurt a little when thinking about his cold, emotionless stare from back then. As if she was nobody to him.

The car slowly came to an halt at the side of the road, interrupting her train of thoughts. And Arabella frowned, glancing up at Jimin. "Why di-"

She didn't finish her sentence, cutting herself off when seeing his expression. His eyes gleaming with sorrow. "I'm sorry, Arabella. I truly am."

Her lips parted. Not having expected him to feel genuinely remorse because of her silly remark. And she placed her hand over his. Giving him a small lopsided smile. "It's okay, I'm not mad."

They stayed like this for a moment more. Holding each other's gaze while smiling. Until sirens echoed in the distance, breaking the silence. And both their eyes widened. His lips breaking into a laugh then. "Guess your little theft didn't go unnoticed after all."

She giggled, taking her small gun from underneath her dress as he pulled out his own from the glovebox.

"Ready?"

"Always."

»»»

next chapter: 1.3 here

[ladyclwriter]

Exile

Geralt x gn!reader x Jaskier

Summary: Geralt, your ex, didn't expected that Jaksier's new fiance was, well, you.

Angst, spicy mentionings, white wolf toxic behavior, Jaskier call's reader "daisy" ( the flower

Not even slightly close to any canon chronological line

He could recall perfectly those days. The sun always seemed to shine brighter when you were by his side, so those memories were all golden to him. Even the blue-ish white snow looked warmer every time he pictured you struggling to take your boots out of it. His smile was always genuine when he lifted you up to Roach, cursing about you could do it alone. Indeed, with you, his smile was always genuine.

Geralt didn't knew if his bard friend actually gave any fake smiles on his life, but he could see you had the very same effect on him. With one puffy arm around your waist, Jaskier laughed in pure joy, proudly showing off his partner while you didn't really looked any shy by his side.

The white wolf froze instantly as soon as you both entered the room. He died a little bit inside — if there was anything alive on him — once the realization hit, holding him where he was, standing far away near a huge marble cornerstone.

Minutes, maybe an hour after you arrived, he noticed you weren't as happy as he thought you were. Yes, you were still as shiny as back in the travelling times. Your smile was as pure as his friend's, and you two seemed like the perfect pair of two little happy canaries. Except for some forced smiles you cracked. Eyes drifting away from time to time, shifting weight from one feet to another. He knew those signs now. You were uncomfortable, maybe bored. And you probably didn't wanted to be there. Still, you laughed at your boyfriend's jokes, and even brought some up.

Geralt felt, for the first time, the weight of his body battling with gravity. He couldn't move his feets, couldn't take his eyes way either. And whatever those feelings inside him were, he was barely dealing with them.

Some bard started singing in another side of the room, Jaskier screaming something about being offended. It took 5 minutes to a duet start, and only then, the Witcher saw your eyes daze towards his. You were laughing at your boyfriend, but without any specific reason, your gaze got pulled into that direction. The whole world seemed to darken and freeze.

You would spot that silvery hair anywhere. The sensation of golden eyes fixated on you, sending shivers down your spine would always be familiar — maybe that's why you've been feeling so uncomfortable and terribly fighting to look at the direction it came. It was an accident. Something inside you guessed it, you knew he was there, even if you fought to believe and accept it. You didn't wanted to look at that specific point, but laughing and swinging with Jaskier, you lost the control of your curious eyes. And you regretted instantly.

As inconsequential and childish your boyfriend could be, he always knew when something was off. He did felt it before, but now he got it straight. “My daisy? Are you alright?”

You couldn't answer. Not when you suddenly forgot how to breath, starting to gasp for air, tearing up with a wolf staring directly into your soul with a grey frown. So you started walking, as fast as you could without calling attention, towards any sight of exit. Opening double doors, you found yourself in a balcony, desperately taking in the winds of the night.

“For fuck's sake, daisy!” he appeared on his puffy clothes, closing the doors behind him, rushing towards your crying self holding at the stone fence. “Are you alright? Anything happened? Did I did something wrong?”

Worried hands took your face gently, turning you to him, so he could search up the answer of his many questions. “Can you talk to me? Can you even breathe? Come on, my daisy, was it Barbara? I know she's a bitch. Was it that bitch?”

“Jaskier!” you exclaimed, silencing him instantly. But he succeeded at stealing a little smile from your lips. “Just... Just give me a moment”.

He held you still, blue eyes filled with worry, eagerly waiting to get the reassurance that no, he didn't did anything wrong. Anyways, some seconds later he walked away, not taking his gaze off you; hanging head with hands on the stone, trying to recover yourself. It took you long minutes to look up, thanking silently the night serene for embracing you. Then you smiled as you realized your favorite bard was there, looking at you all the time, with a puppyish face.

“Feeling better, daisy?” he asked sweetly. You agreed, back of hands wiping face. He didn't knew if he should break the distance, but give you your space seemed better anyways. “We can go home if you feel... Sick”

You felt like it, yes. But his quiet understanding made you own an answer to his questions. So, avoiding blue eyes, you mumbled. “I saw my ex”.

He paused. Blinking, processing and recalling all those stories you told him at your most vulnerable moments. “That one who left you alone in the woods?” shook your head yes. “Oh no. I'm so sorry, my daisy. I would never guess he was from royalty”

“He isn't. But it's not your fault, so don't be sorry” taking a deep breath, you approached his red-cotton dressed body. Arms around him, head under his chin, you inhaled his perfume.

Jaskier was safety. You never, never had that fear of waking up and not seeing him by your side. You never hesitated before saying something, and mostly, you didn't even had to say anything. You were always shining with him, but he never required you to. And he was the one there with you. “I didn't wanted to ruin your party, dandelion”

“You know I'd trade all these peacocks for only two minutes with you”

“No need. You have me forever” meeting gazes, the smiles were as reciprocal as all your feelings. And just when you delicately approached faces to kiss each other, the doors got open.

Shutting your eyes closed, your grip on Jaskier tightened as you desperately kept taking his scent. You knew who was there.

“Gods!” your boyfriend almost screamed. “Geralt of Rivia himself! And in fancy boots! But, um, as much as I love meeting old friends, I'm busy right now”

But you tilted your head up, frowned at him with a hint of anger and intrigue. “Friend? He is your friend?”

“A very old one, indeed. What's the matter?” his smile was so pure and innocent that you could barely believe your ears. Then, just because it was necessary, you looked towards the intruder. He looked as shocked as you were. “What? Why do you two look like if you discovered the queen's most nasty secret? Is there something on my- oh.”

The three of you were frozen, taking in whatever the destiny arranged. “Oh. Oh fuck. Oh fucking fuck” he put one of his hands on his forehead, the other one on his waist, taking some steps back.

“What the fuck is happening here?” you asked, even if no one seemed to have the answer.

“This must be witchcraft” you trembled as you heard his low, husky voice. Now, his eyes avoided you.

“No fucking way. You two will tell me what the damn plan you made!”

“I didn't see Geralt in ages!” the bard physicalized the time with a gesture of hands. “I didn't even knew he was still alive. I didn't knew you two knew each other!”

“So do I!” you shot back, a little louder than you wanted. Now you were with a hand on the forehead, turning your back to the two. “For god's sake”

The three of you stood there, no one daring to say anything or move a finger. Indeed, the only one who didn't looked conflicted and full of things to say was the bard. So, he cleaned his throat, crossing arms with the cold breeze.

“Geralt, you... What did you wanted here?” cutting the chat, the blue eyed asked, very low and cautious. He was conflicted, seeing his love and his only one friend there. Even more when he knew your side of the story, and knew the Witcher way much more than he wanted to.

Gold and blue sky met, in a silent short conversation. “I wanted to talk to your partner”.

“We have nothing to talk” you stated instantly.

“Look, I know what I did, but I can explain-”

“No need to. Now get back inside there”, you said it like an order, without even hesitate.

Geralt looked at his friend, looking for any help. Jaskier loved you enough to know he had to interfere. You would never be able to move on from your past relationship without this talk. So, he walked until he was in front of you, and touched your arms, lightly rubbing his thumb. “My daisy. We both know this is for the best. Please, give him a chance”

“Why? Why should I? The facts are facts, and I'm with you now. There is nothing to discuss” you insisted, but Jaskier didn't looked like he would give up.

One hand on your face, he looked into your eyes before kissing you. Gently, slowly caressing your lips with his, making your body warm even with the cold of the night. “Yes, you are with me. Just talk to him, and we're going home. Alright?”

Home. How you fucking wanted to be home. Knowing he was stubborn, and always did anything he said he would, you turned around to face your past. Crossing arms and leaning your body against your boyfriend's, you raise an eyebrow. Geralt took a minute to watch his old friend wrapping arms around his old lover's body, breaking his very own heart a little more.

“A monster was following us. Something you could've never faced, I could've never killed with you by my side” started after cleaning his throat, now staring at you, and only you. “Indeed, I had to battle with things that would use you as a weakness. We would not stay together further”

“So you leave me in the middle of the night, in that creepy fucking forest, full of wolves and moving trees?” there was no way you could pretend you weren't angry.

“I said, a monster was following us. I got away before he attacked, and my plan was to come back after defeating him” turns out I didn't, he wanted to say. “But the battle took me away from the camp, and there were more of them. I finished after dawn, and realized I went too far”.

You pressed yourself more against Jaskier, who held you stronger, noticing your anguish growing. He gave kisses on your cheek, neck, and put his nose in your scented hair.

“You would be gone before I came back. So I took it as a... Fate sign. And moved on”

“Just like that? Like if I was nothing?” oh, how it enraged you. Fighting tears, your voice got as high as it could without becoming a shouting. “Like if we were nothing?!”

“Don't you say things like that. You know damn well what you meant to me” he took one step closer, pointing a finger towards you. You too stepped out, but Jaskier kept you close.

“Guess it wasn't that much, since you just fucking left!” you screamed the last words, involuntary tears in your eyes. “I almost died, Geralt. Those fucking wolves and branches almost took my fucking life!”

“Do you really think I do not feel fucking miserable everyday? Don't you think I feel guilty for loosing you? No, you could never know how I asked for death every night I spent without knowing if you were safe” spitting words, you could see golden eyes shine with tears.

“You could never know how I wanted to kill you for believing that you left me to die”, you whispered.

You fainted, covered by bites and deep cuts and blood. Woke up at an stranger's house, a family of merchants who took care of you. Of course, you had to pay back by working for them for a while. And it was at one of these jobs that you met Jaskier. He was singing “burn, butcher burn”, and even after beating up some men that owed the family you worked for, you couldn't stop laughing at him.

Now you weren't. The pieces clicked together in your head, and you stared at your boyfriend. So the song was about Geralt.

“As much as I want to clear things between us, I don't think none of us wants to fight now” none of us are ready to get rid of our bad bloods, for they are the only thing keeping us apart. “I came here to ask for your forgiveness. I know you are with Jaskier, and I don't plan to be friends or anything. Just, please, forgive me, so I can try to move on like you did”

“You won't stick too long to be friends, anyways” you shot, glancing back at him. “Oh, and I know how much of a shitty friend you are. You and your sharp tongue and cold heart”

“You never complained of my sharp tongue those times” it came out in a growl. He only realized what he said when both you and Jaskier looked deeply offended, his eyes falling to the ground. “I'm sorry”

You crossed arms, feeling one of your boyfriend's hands caressing it. Breathing deeply, you started pondering. Indeed, he had a sharp tongue in all possible meanings. You would never dare to try to be friends, for sometimes, in the middle of the night, you missed him. He felt the same.

With him, you felt at the top of the world. Living dangerously with adventures and heavenly tent fucks, he was your very own crown and a home that never settled down. Now, you were both your own exiles. At least, you had the sweetest man alive by your side. And Jaskier did had a sharp tongue too.

“I know it doesn't bring any good to me to hold a grudge against you, so you can have my forgiveness” you said lowly, a big and bright smile growing on your boyfriend's face, who kissed your cheek, happily.

“It's the right thing, darling. I'm happy for you” indeed, every single time you talked about your ex, he wouldn't stop buzzing about the forgiveness part.

Taking Jaskier's hand, standing by his side, your face was like stone, certain of every word. “Now go, Geralt. I don't want to see you ever again” even if something inside you did wanted to.

“I'll go. I'm leaving by the side door as soon as the musicians start. But” oh no. “Can we talk alone? Thirty seconds”.

“No” you answered instantly. Then you felt Jaskier's hand slipping away from yours, for whatever reason popped on his head.

Despair made your body shiver inside, blood heating no longer just with hate, scared of anything that would come from those “30 seconds” that Jaskier strictly mumbled in a possessive way, before closing the doors.

You froze, but Geralt walked towards you with the most intense glaze ever. He always looked like a predator whenever you turned him on back at those times, and it would always drive you crazy. But now, years after that burning passion, you did felt like he was a wolf. Golden eyes piercing, burning every trace of you. But he didn't stopped too close.

“Daisy. He calls you daisy” whispered on his very own growl way. “I called you love”

“So what?” your voice barely came out, a whisper as you cursed yourself silently for wanting to feel his hands in your body, fighting the urge to touch him. One step closer, he lowered himself, your faces inches away.

You closed your eyes, not because you expected one of your hot, messy kisses. But for you couldn't look at him that close. Jaskier is outside. He trusts me.

“I'm his daisy, and he's my dandelion”

Geralt took a deep breath, warming your ear as he bent down even more. Not daring to move one finger — he knew he didn't had to —, he breathed again, showing your urge for him was reciprocal. At that little second, all your time together came back to your mind. The screams, whether for anger or pleasure. The crying and laughing. The back-to-back battles, the stargazing. Every single moment came back at you, turning your whole self to crumbs. He knew it, for he felt like that too.

“And you are my love” for fuck's sake, you didn't knew his voice could get that low. You shivered, trembled visibly, frowning to control your emotions.

You almost fell to your knees. It was hard to come back to the crowd, having to kiss Jaskier wildly to not cry on his arms, to not regret everything you did all your life, to keep focusing on your healthy and happy relationship. He knew what he was doing, and you both knew it was truth, when he said, before walking away:

“And I will, forever, be your love too”.

I feel like this could've been so much better worked and written. Please tell me your thoughts, my insecurities are eating this whole thing 😁

Anyways, thank you so much for reading. Reblogs are appreciated 💕💕💕 love ya

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @sunndust

[triplesilverstar]

Day 6

Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Blood sucker LegatoX F!Reader

CW: Dub con, serious dub-con, Oral, forced orgasm, Period sex, blood drinking Smut, angst and smut, imprisonment, chained up, rim job,  

Word count: 1217

A/N: Day 6, You had been at a party and woke up chained to a bed. This doesn’t look good for you at all, and all you can remember is a handsome man with blue hair and golden eyes.

You knew you shouldn’t have drunk that much, it had been a fun party and you know you were having a good time. 

Memories of long cool fingers along your fevered skin pressing against you like ice, goosebumps rising along your body in the wake of that sensation. They had spoken to you, with a voice that as you struggled to wake up sounded like it was underwater in your memory. No. He. 

It had been a man, and in the fog impending your thoughts you can vaguely remember him, tall and broad shoulders. A flat look of disinterest highlighted by the golden orbs in his head beneath those blue cascades of hair. If you hadn't been already half in the bag, you might have noticed the way he watched you, moved his body along yours so you were enveloped in his hold. A predator who had his prey firmly in his jaws. 

In your memories of the night before he seemed almost out of this world, something just not quite right. 

Or maybe that was just the throbbing in your skull, the nausea in your belly making you want to hurl, trying to roll over and realizing you can’t. It’s a struggle getting your eyes to open, was, was there something else in one of those drinks last night? Shivering in the morning air. 

At least you think it’s morning. 

With your eyes open it doesn’t make a difference, surrounded in darkness and the cotton in your mouth isn’t just from your hangover anymore. Your heart rate skyrockets as the muscle pounds against the inside of your rib cage, lifting your arms, the clink and clang of metal echoing around the room. 

“I see you’ve awoken.” His words are slow and measured, something about his voice sending a chill down your spine. The way it drips like honey covered in sweetness and invades your senses, but you know some honey is made from poisonous flowers. You didn’t think your heart could beat any faster, turning your head towards where you think the noise is coming from. 

He’s moving, his steps slow and each one sounds like a death toll and you know each ringing footfall is part of the song of your end. People don’t walk away after waking up tied to a bed with chains. The fear inside of you builds the closer he strides. 

“You’ll taste so much sweeter like this. Your fear seasoning you like a dash of salt on well marbled steak.” Those cold fingers dragging along your skin starting at your throat and moving down your body, shiver hard enough to make the chains keeping you in place rattle adding to the pounding in your chest.

A soft whimper when one of those digits starts to circle one of your nipples, from the outside of your areola circling closer and closer until he’s just rolling your hardened bud under the tip of his finger. 

“Even restrained your body still responds. Such a good little pest.” He doesn’t give the other breast the same treatment, just begins to skim those icicle like fingers down your chest, down your stomach to the apex of your thighs. Slipping them into your spread legs and giving them a twist, a whimper from you once more belly flexing as your muscles protest the sudden intrusion into your sex. 

No matter what you try your mouth just doesn’t want to cooperate with your mind, the words to tell him no, trapped behind the confines of your teeth. 

As suddenly as they were inserted the fingers were removed just as quickly, the tangy smell of copper flooding your nostrils. The tips of those fridigit digits pressed under your nose. “You’re going to provide me with a nice little meal.” 

What the hell does that mean? And did he just spread blood under your nose? Are you on your period? Is that another reason why your stomach is churning? Because your body is trying to deal with your monthly problem that makes you hate the fact you’re a female? 

In your internal musings of panic you missed the feeling of his fingers leaving your face, attention snapping back when you feel the mattress under you dip. Warm breath fanning out over your pussy lips, a warm breath that is making you aware of the wetness dripping from your folds. You really are aware of the pain in your abdomen now the cramps making themselves known.

A squeak from you when his cold hands grasp the underside of your thighs, adjusting your body and you gasp in shock when what you can only assume is his tongue pressing to your taint and flattening against you before scooping upwards as if he’s collecting the tissue being forced out of your body. 

Lapping as your core and your stomach clenches, disgusted that the man is eating you out while you’re on your period. His tongue plunges into your pussy with gusto, a low moan rending the air, he’s clearly enjoying it and while you are grossed out your body is responding to his actions. As he pushes the muscle in his mouth reaches deep inside your cunt, impossibly long and hitting nerves that have you responding with spasming walls. More moaning from him as your slick channel gives another jerk, sending more blood from your core for him to sample. 

Core clenching as he wiggles the muscles around your walls and your skin is warming up, eyes shooting open when you think you feel teeth against your lower lips. Two of them far longer than they should be, is he a vampire? Or some other kind of monster you’ve heard of from horror movies?

You don’t get the chance to dwell on it, his tongue slipping from your core with a loud slurp and you think you hear his lips smacking together. That moist warm breath of his washing over your shivering pussy before you feel the tip of that long muscle tracing the outside of another tight ring of muscles smearing fluid around the hole. Tears brimming your lashes as he tries to push his tongue into your ass, the sensations so different from anything you’ve ever felt before. 

Panting as he keeps trying to shove the muscle into the tight hole, licking and sucking at the skin between your cheeks. Stomach churning from the thought of it and the fact that he can do whatever he wants to you finally sinking in. It’s far worse as you had thought the worst he could have done would have been to just kill you. 

Once his tongue breaches your entrances he begins to wiggle it around gasping from the signals of pleasure running up your back. His nose between your folds and the strange feeling in your hole pushing you over the edge, cuming from the sensation. 

The stranger pulling his tongue from your butt and lapping at your pussy and swallowing down your release and anything else draining from between your lips. Looking downward all you can see are two slitted golden eyes looking up from between your thighs. “I think you can manage another for me, little pest. I’m far from satisfied.” The way his voice makes even your bones tremble tells you, you really aren’t leaving this prison alive. 

Divider

Back to list

[kiwibirb1]

Yeah hi so I wrote a tiny marcanne fic for CiH and don't wanna post it to ao3 so its going here now. On the timeline, it's a little bit after Marcy first got to Castle Town, so just a nice little quiet moment for our girls while Anne avoids Sasha's existence.

Stargazing Word count: 616

Anne pulled the wide-eyed Marcy out of the castle gates with one hand. The pointy-eared (She still couldn't believe that, how had she never noticed?) girl followed her, taking a close look at the portcullis as they left. "I still can't believe you live in the castle!" Anne chuckled, slowing down her pace as she rubbed her free hand against the back of her neck. "Well, I don't really live in the castle, I've just been staying in the castle barracks while I... uh... I was at Lon Lon Ranch most of this time." Either Marcy didn't notice her falter, or decided not to comment on it, instead taking a glance at the sky and stopping suddenly, digging her heels against the grass. Anne had let go for a moment to adjust her tunic, and continued on a few steps until she noticed the other wasn't with her. "Marcy?" She turned around, confused, to see the green-clad girl staring up at the sky in astonishment. "Woah... this is an entirely different sky. I don't recognize any of these stars!" Marcy gushed, eyes still locked towards the faint lights. "There's so many! Have you had this view the entire time, Anne?" The babysitter-turned-bodyguard followed her gaze upwards. "I guess. You couldn't see it before?" Marcy shook her head, corners of her mouth falling down slightly in disappointment. "No, the tree cover was to heavy. Light could still get in, of course, but stars were a rare sight according to the Kokiri. I... I don't think I've ever seen this many stars in my life." Anne nodded, and her eyes lit up as an idea came to her. She grabbed Marcy's hand, finally pulling her gaze back down to earth. "Wha- Anne! A little warning next time!" To accentuate her disconcerted squeak, she tripped over a small rock. Falling heavily into Anne, the other quickly caught her, silently thanking the gods that she wasn't wearing her hard armor. "Marbles? You okay?" Instead of responding, Marcy suddenly pushed Anne, causing the other to fall over. "Ow! What was that for!?" Marcy giggled, and sat down next to the brunette. "For making me trip! Why'd you grab me anyway?" Anne stuck out her tongue, scrunching her face, and turned away with a hmph. "Maybe I won't tell you! Serves you right." Marcy groaned playfully, and swatted Anne on the shoulder. "C'mon! Tell me! Annieee." Anne snuck her a glance out of the corner of her eye, quickly giving up. She excited pointed towards the night sky, her face lighting up in that way Marcy loved. "Okay, so, I got really bored one night at the ranch and Malon was up too so she taught me a bunch of their constellations and the mythology associated with them! Like, those three there-" She pointed animatedly to a trio of bright stars arranged in a rough triangle shape. "Those are the Din, Nayru, and Farore stars, named after the Golden Goddesses, and are said to be where they exited this world after creating it!" Marcy smiled, and nodded along while Anne pointed out more stars and explaining their meaning to the people of Hyrule. It was nice to be on the receiving end of a ramble for once, and she curled up a little closer to Anne's warm blue tunic. Anne hadn't let go of Marcy's hand from when she grabbed it, and neither made any move to let go. They simply enjoyed each others company in the dark, neither being able to see the faint blush on the others cheek. It was Impa who found them in the early morning, having fell asleep on each other, Anne's arms wrapped around Marcy protectively.