#'MY BEAUTY; IT IS MY SIN' AND THEN HIS MAKING PEACE WITH IT LAST SECOND SAYING AUGHHHHB I'M LOSING MY MIND | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arabellasleopardcoat · 1 year ago

Text

Capital (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You think you married the plainest woman on earth, and you look away for one second and suddenly she is not. Typical. At least, for Daemon.

Warnings: Mature language, sexual thoughts, canon typical violence.

Requested: Yes! But since I am particular about my aesthetic, I didn't answer there. Jealousy + arranged marriage. Brought to you by the seven deadly sins.

Gluttony /ˈɡlʌtəni/

the habit of eating and drinking too much.

Claw Island is as good as getting vanished from the court. You know it. Your Lord husband knows it. Even the tenants know it. Why else would the King order your marriage to Daemon Targaryen?

It was not as much of a punishment as the King had hoped. The Celtigars are a prestigious family, one of the few left with Valyrian blood. While not ones to flaunt their riches or seek for great power, you led a luxurious lifestyle.

The finest wines. Myrish rugs. The newest books. And of course, the riches from the surrounding sea. Beautiful pearls, a fleet that, while small, sailed with speed. The best foods.

The small island was your perfect little world, sequestered away from the troubles of the mainland. What else could a person long for, when they lived in a paradise? Claw Island had it all. Miles and miles of tempestuous sea, soft sands and gorgeous wildlife not seen anywhere else. Humble, but good people. Natural riches enough to last a lifetime.

But as of late, your breathtaking lands did nothing to bring you peace. Sometimes, in truth, as you walked along the shoreline, you wished for a tremendous sea wave to swallow you whole.

It would be better than this. Among the crabs, the sea life and wreckage of old ships, you would feel at ease. At home, even. And finally, finally untroubled. But things were not as you wanted them to be. With your Lord Father at court, someone had to mind the island. And no one knew the lands as you did.

You shuddered to think of something happening to you. In that case, the island, and its people, would go to your husband. Considering how much he hated it here, Prince Daemon would make a poor ruler.

You glare. He glares right back. Remembering your manners, you serve him a cut of spider crab seared in butter. The meal is rich and decadent, a show of the best Claw Island has to offer.

“Crab, Lady Wife?” Daemon raises both eyebrows. “Again?”

“What else does the Prince wish to eat?” You do your best effort at keeping your tone even. You try hard to not raise your voice at him, remembering the rumors about what happened to his last wife. So far, it seems to be working. Despite being older than you, the man behaves as a child. You have found he benefits from being managed as one, too.

Ever since you got married, he has been desperately trying to rile you up. The Prince always seemed to deflate when you refused to engage. He was clearly itching for a fight, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“You seem too willing to indulge in cannibalism for my tastes.” Daemon, in what he surely believed to be the absolute demonstration of cutting wit, smirks. You smile at him, sedate. You have heard enough remarks about crabs to last a lifetime. “It’s worrying.”

You could answer him. Perhaps make a mockery of his inability to perform in bed and the behavior of the female praying mantis. You do not. Instead, you force yourself to give him a tight smile.

“Don’t worry. I will ask the servants to bring you fish.” You took your napkin out of your lap and placed it on the table. Dutifully, you rang the bell to call for a servant.

“Again?” Daemon complained, sounding much like a petulant child. You smiled and went back to your seat. Your crab was getting cold, and it would most likely be by the time your husband’s fish was served. But good manners dictated you could not start eating without him. You resigned yourself to another night of eating a cold dinner.

“You should write to the King, my Prince. I would serve you venison, were it not for the fact that your dragon has nearly extincted the population here.” While you were by no means poor, feeding a dragon was an expense you didn’t care for, especially one so picky as Daemon’s was showing to be.

While a dragon was a marvelous creature, and having one guarding your lands was a great perk, it was also hard. Caraxes ate the same as five grown men in a day, if not more. He didn’t eat just anything you served him, either. Much like his owner, he was picky. He had come with dragon keepers, and needed to be built a shelter.

You had hoped that his serpentine appearance would mean that he would eat a lot in one sitting, then hibernate, but no such luck. Your island couldn’t keep up, no matter how hard you tried. Animals didn’t reproduce at the pace required.

“Of course, my Lady. Of course.” Daemon says, in a dismissive tone. It’s then, when a servant comes in with his fish.

Your crab is cold. Again. Daemon is not pleased with the fish, but seems wary of extending dinner even more. For once, he doesn’t complain.

Dinner is eaten silently. In your head, you make plans for tomorrow's meals. Perhaps oysters, served cold, will withstand the wait better. You finish dinner and settle down to read some before bed.

When the time comes for it, you close your book. Daemon departs with a cold kiss to your cheek. You go to your bed, just as cold and empty as the kiss was, and fall asleep.

It’s around the witch's hour when he comes back to you, getting into the bed next to you. He stinks of cheap perfumes and oils. As he pulls you closer, to be able to hide his face on your neck, you can feel the smell of sex and alcohol induced sweat. It comes from the clothes Daemon hasn’t even bothered to shed before getting in bed with you.

You don’t like him drunk. He gets sloppy. You do better when he hides his indiscretions, the proofs of your failure as a woman. As a wife. He seeks his pleasure from other bodies, never yours. With you, he is unable to perform to completion.

Perhaps the same happens to him with others, on nights like these. That thought soothes you, and it’s the only reason why you allow Daemon to seek comfort in your arms. Sometimes, he has nightmares. It’s expected then, too, that you are the one to soothe him back to sleep.

Shifting in his grip, you rub his back, gently. You card your other hand through the matted strands of blonde hair, as a mother would do to his child. In many ways, you guess he is one. You pity him, your husband. A man with a void so deep, not even all the vices in the world could fill it.

You are unable to fall back asleep. You lay there for hours, staring at the ceiling. When you hear the rooster’s first crow, you roll out of bed. Sleep is not coming for you. Daemon, unperturbed in his slumber, only sprawls more. You tuck him in.

When you get to your vanity, you catch the servants leaving the correspondence for the day on it. She giggles when you point at the bed and the mess of clothes, gesturing for silence. It makes you feel better, that they think your husband comes from the pleasure houses straight into your arms for more than just cuddles.

One of the letters catches your eye. It’s written in the strange alphabet used for High Valyrian, bearing both the royal seal and the King’s name. You don’t mean to pry. In fact, you open it because you are worried your husband has upset his brother even more.

Marriage is like being tied to a ship. When the tides are good and the ship strong, you soar above the sea. But no one wants to be tied to a sinking ship. It’s that fear what leads you to heating a knife on your candle’s flame and lifting the seal.

You read as you brush your hair, unrushed. You know Daemon won’t be awake for at least six more hours. But the more you advance, skipping polite greeting, the more your stomach sinks, and you jump from sentence to sentence.

“And while I understand your dislike of Claw Island, it is a less harsh punishment than you deserve. Much you complained of wanting a Valyrian bride, and now the opportunity presents itself, ripe for the taking. Yet, you do not seem keen on it. Is it, again, the lack of a throne you find off-putting? Perhaps, the lack of a child bride you can manipulate? Your Lady Wife might not have purple eyes or silver hair, as you mention, but she is a maiden in the bloom of youth. Tales of her beauty have graced the court, shared among the eager mouths of her family and previous suitors. Both Lord Velaryon and Lord Mooton agree that the woman is a delight, well-mannered and easy on the eyes. She has impeccable breeding and education. I will not grant you the annulment. I will not allow you to go back to your whore.”

There is a coppery taste in your mouth. Blood, you realize. From biting your tongue so hard to avoid letting out a scream of rage. It feels like being stabbed, countless times. In your back, and in your heart. Betrayal and deep, hurtful sorrow.

What have you done to deserve this? To be blindsided so? You have stood firm through all the humiliations your husband puts you through. Never once reproaching the way he goes out after dinner and does not come back until sunrise. Never complaining of his audacity to search comfort in your arms when he is drunk and stinking of whores. Never once raising your voice at the insults to your people, your home, your family.

But for Daemon Targaryen, it wasn’t enough. You would never be enough. Childishly, when you had first heard of your betrothal to him, you had hoped for companionship, if not love. At least, you thought, you would have a friend. But you hadn’t been enough of a woman to keep him in your bed, you had not been enough of the blood of Old Valyria for him to give you children, and you had not been enough for him to stay married to you.

He took from you, and took from your island and from your family, and not once was he satisfied. Not once, he was sated. And now, Daemon has done the unspeakable. Not satisfied with making a mockery out of you, with his constant unfaithfulness, he seeks to ruin you further. It’s only King Viserys who protects you and your family from further embarrassment.

You have underestimated him, pitying him while he planned your demise. The ruin of your house. You have been sharing your bed with the enemy. The thought frightens you and fills you with anger at equal parts. What will happen, when the King dies and the awful Princess with whom your husband was so taken ascends? Will you be put to the sword, accused of an imaginary crime to get you out of the way? Treason, perhaps? Hands shaking in anger, you fold the letter and reseal it as carefully as you can.

That is the day you decide you will retreat into your shell, like any good crab. You will close yourself over, put up walls and keep him as far away as you can. And you will wait for the day to stab at his heels until his physique reflects exactly the useless kind of man he is inside.

One day, this man might kill you. You will have to make sure he does not get away with it.

Envy /ˈenvi/

the feeling of wanting to be in the same situation as somebody else; the feeling of wanting something that somebody else has.

It’s not often you are summoned to the court. But your father is about to be named Keeper of the Keys, a prestigious position often held by members of your house before being promoted to Master of Coin. The implication is clear. Soon, another Celtigar will be handling the finances of the Kingdom. It’s a ploy, to intertwine you further with the Royal Family. As soon as King Viserys dies, it will be your father who serves on Princess Rhaenyra’s council.

Hence, the need for a celebration. Traveling from Claw Island to King’s Landing is exhausting, especially considering that you do the journey by ship while your husband does so in his dragon. He seems overjoyed about it, but you can only think of how much the separate travel is costing your purses.

Daemon arrives early, because of course he does. Meanwhile, you spend your time preparing to put on the play of your life. You must be the most dutiful wife in the Seven Kingdoms, or else he might find a reason to get rid of you. Setting apart your most fashionable dresses, preparing gifts for the King and Queen and otherwise looking radiant.

Knowing Daemon, he is already whispering poison in his brother’s ear. You need to dazzle the King and the whole court, convince them you are not only an adequate wife but a perfect one. No stain must be perceived in your reputation.

You arrive punctually, just in time to prepare for the feast. It’s inside the Hall where you meet Daemon, and greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Chaste, but affectionate, performed under the King’s approving look. You are radiant in your house’s colors, with subtle references to Targaryen’s ones.

The feast is torture. Viserys, Daemon and Rhaenyra are all seated at the same table. They get along wondrously, while you, Queen Alicent and Ser Laenor are ignored despite being next to them.

The only thing that calms your heart is watching your father, sitting at the table of the Master of Coin.

“My Queen.” You say to her, hoping to curry favor. The Gods knew you needed as many allies as you could. “I brought you this.”

You take out a beautifully engraved rendition of the Prayers Book. It’s a gorgeous edition, with a gold finish. You hope that at least, if she doesn’t like it, she would think it is a gift to the babe she carries. It’s a thoughtful gift, the kind of thing you excel at.

“Oh, Lady Targaryen!” The Queen says, and takes it, admiring it in the light. Fortunately, she seems truly charmed by it. “It is the most wonderful thing!”

“I have one myself.” You tell her, as if you had not purchased it for exactly this moment. “When I heard you were from Oldtown, I couldn’t think of a better thing to bring.”

“It’s lovely.” Alicent says, as your husbands ignore both of you. Viserys and Daemon are too busy having their fun to care about what women are doing. “Will you join me in prayer tomorrow?”

“I would be delighted to.” It’s the first genuine smile you wear since your arrival. And it’s the first time that someone from the royal family smiles back.

You do attempts towards Rhaenyra and Laenor. They both ignore you, and so, you decide to keep strictly to conversing with Alicent. You decide to leave Viserys out of it, despite your gratitude to him because you would rather not look like much of a sycophant.

Your happiness at finally making a friend between your in-laws makes you oblivious to Daemon’s silence. During the whole dinner, he barely taunts you. None of the crab-based insults he so favors are present, either. That should have warned you. If you have learned something about your husband is that there is never a time when he is quiet.

He bides his time. The desserts are already served when Daemon delivers his greatest insult up to date. Some couples are even swaying to the rhythm of the music already, no matter if the tables have yet to be cleared.

“I wish to dance, I think.” Daemon says, getting up from his seat. You start to get up too, knowing you cannot refuse him, but he turns towards Rhaenyra. “A dance, niece?”

Rhaenyra preens under the attention and takes his hand. For a second, you stay frozen, hand falling uselessly by your side just when you were about to reach for him. You feel like you are being stabbed. Again.

The humiliation is so great you wish for some great disaster, perhaps one of the couples bumping against a table and overturning it, just to get the attention away from you. Half the hall has now seen you get rejected by your husband. In a celebration meant to honor your father, nonetheless.

You struggle to keep your face emotionless, curved into a polite little smile. You have made a fool of yourself. Hot tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill.

Noticing your despair, Alicent places a hand on your arm, softly.

“Thank you, Lady Targaryen.” She exclaims, loudly. “With the babe getting bigger and bigger every day, I find it harder to stand. You are very thoughtful.”

Her rescue, as she stands and walks down the dais, helps you save face. Your smile turns more genuine.

“It’s but good breeding, my Queen.” You answer, just as loud. “What kind of noble could see a Lady of your station and not aid her?”

Alicent smiles, and she cradles her stomach.

“Indeed. Only a savage, I would think.” Her glance at her own husband is unmistakable. But Viserys is too busy watching Rhaenyra and Daemon dance to help his pregnant wife. His eyes never leave his brother and daughter, his expression twisted into one of annoyance.

Alicent makes her way towards a table where a few knights sit. Most of them are from Oldtown, and you cannot help but smile at her doing the rounds her husband so neglects. But her rescue, and quick exit, leave you in an uncomfortable position. King Viserys and Ser Laenor are engaged in conversation, including you only when they remember your presence, which means once every half an hour.

Without Queen Alicent, you have no conversation partner. The only thing you can do is watch. Daemon twirls around the room as if he were not a married man, taking every eligible bachelorette in the room for at least one dance. He is enchanting, pulling blushes left and right. He dances twice with Rhaenyra and Laena Velaryon.

You play your part to perfection. Each time he glances your way, you give him an indulgent smile or a sweet tilt of your head. Even when he dances again with Rhaenyra, your expressions don't shift. Instead, you lift your cup to them and even find it in yourself to give a small clap.

It’s torture. It’s exhausting, having to play the devoted but never jealous wife, when he is doing his best to embarrass you. Finally, the King retires, but orders that the celebrations do not stop. You consider making your way towards your father, uncaring if leaving Laenor sitting on his own is rude.

Just as you are getting up, a knight, dressed in a fine green gambeson, steps in front of you. You look up at him, wondering what he could possibly want.

His voice is soft and eloquent, with the barest hint of an accent. His voice reminds you of someone, but you cannot quite place who.

“Lady Targaryen. You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you.” You answer him, politely. Is he about to ask you for a dance? Is this a ploy for your husband to embarrass you further?

The knight smiles. He is tall and slender, very different from your husband, yet handsome just the same.

“If I had a wife as pretty as you, she wouldn’t be sitting here.” He compliments, and startles a laugh out of you. It has been months since the last time a man complimented you so. Before marrying, you had quite the suitors, but no one dared practice courtly love with the Rogue Prince’s wife. And your husband never once spoke to you kindly.

It’s a thrill, to feel wanted and appreciated again. You love having his eyes on you. It fills you with a forgotten kind of confidence. As the daughter of the man whose star in court is rising, as a beautiful woman and as the wife of a Prince, you deserve to be admired. It’s not your fault your husband can’t see it, you are desirable. People should be currying for your favor. You shouldn’t be begging for the scraps of a man whose only interest is his niece.

“Would she be on the dance floor?” You tease the knight, falling back into the practiced flirtations that had made you so popular before. You feel like you are glowing again.

The knight shakes his head, a hint of mischief appearing in his brown eyes.

“I would forbid her from leaving my chambers.”

At that, you laugh again, blushing. Despite how charming he is, you are still a married woman. You cannot give anyone reason to suspect or judge you, else Daemon might have basis to rid himself of you.

“I am not your wife.” You say, politely. The knight gasps, as if wounded, making you laugh again. You do not realize someone is glaring daggers at you, entranced as you are by him. “But perhaps a dance might suffice?”

The knight gives you a cheeky grin. He takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, gently.

As he leads you towards the dance floor, you barely notice Daemon looking disgruntled on the edge of it. You look over and see Rhenyra dancing with some tall and broad knight. He is probably jealous of him.

“You must give me your favor, for tomorrow's tournament. We are, after all, celebrating your family.” The knight says, making you focus back on him. His eyes are brown and kind, so soft. They remind you of someone, but once again, you can’t tell who.

“Ah, I see you are a tough negotiator.” You tease, your tone turning slightly more girlish. This time, it is the knight who laughs.

“What can I say? It’s in my blood.” The man winks, as he starts to twirl you around.

“I think, my lord, you have yourself a deal.” You grin.

It’s only when a Hightower knight approaches the stands the next day and offers you his lanze, you realize the mistake you have made.

Wrath /ræθ/

extreme anger.

Daemon can’t believe his ears. Out of nowhere, a sweet sound reaches him. It’s the sound of a Lady’s laughter, but something about it makes him turn his head.

Perhaps, the fact that the sound has managed to catch his attention at all, despite the loud music, chatter and other laughs. Perhaps it is that the sound is familiar to him. He doesn’t know what it is, but as the piece finishes, he steps aside and tries searching for the source.

It’s then he sees you. His wife. Glowing and laughing on that Hightower cunt’s arm. And no, it’s not Alicent he is referring to. Otto’s spawn seems to have a proclivity for you because this is the other one. The elder.

Gwayne. His hands all over you, a gentle touch to your lower back to guide you forward. And are your eyes brightening? For him? As you pass by Daemon, you barely spare him a glance. He manages to hear a piece of the conversation.

“Your favor, for tomorrow's tournament…” The man has the gall to ask, as if he could win you the flower crown! The nerve of that Hightower pup, to think himself able to win. It’s clear he doesn’t remember the last time he faced Daemon, and while he was already planning on entering, now he knows with absolute certainty he is competing. Gwayne Hightower seems to have forgotten his lesson. He needs to remember his place.

“… Tough negotiator…” Your cheerful voice answers. Probably telling him he has to win if you do so because you are Valyrian and proud like him. Surely, the idea of getting crowned Queen of Love and Beauty appeals to you. You want a flower crown? Daemon will get you the damn thing.

When he was no more than a boy, his father used to have a particularly overzealous hound. Daemon had taken great delight in setting him free just when ladies were visiting. The dog loved sniffing beneath the ladies' skirts and humping their legs. The whole scene often ended up with Daemon getting yelled at, either by the ladies or their husbands. Now, as he looked at the proverbial dog humping his wife, Daemon understood why the ladies' husbands were so enraged.

He should cut his hands. Hightowers. No sense of shame at all, with their whorish ways. They were all the same. There went Alicent, throwing herself at Viserys when poor Aemma was not even in her pyre. There went Gwayne Hightower, placing his paws all over you and trying to charm you when Daemon was still in the room.

Couldn’t he tell you are his? It’s not that Daemon likes you, but it’s an affront to his honor. You are the wife of a Prince. The mere fact that a measly knight thought he could compare it’s outrageous. And the fact that he dared touch you! The nerve!

It’s Daemon who shares your bed, back in Claw Island. It’s Daemon you hold during the night, who pays for your silly little dresses. It’s for him you have clearly gotten all pretty today. How dare he, that Hightower fool.

He can’t have you. Gwayne Hightower is not allowed to just swoop in and try to steal his woman. You are meant to sleep by his side, be his solace. You are not the kind of woman for whom a simple knight would be enough. Just like him, you love the lush life. Could Gwayne Hightower buy you a dress like that? Could he use a dragon to protect your little island?

Daemon clutches at his cup so hard, he thinks he might bend the metal. You are his bride. He is the only one allowed to have you. If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to, but it doesn’t mean someone else can.

Rhaenyra approaches him again, no doubt wanting another dance. But not even her allure, which is usually so hypnotizing to him, manages to get him out of his bad mood. He hates when other people touch what is his.

Daemon decides to retire for the night, before she can reach him. He needs to think. How he longs for your shared rooms back at Claw Island. At least that way, he wouldn’t spend the night tossing and turning, wondering if the Hightower cunt escorted you back to your rooms, and if so, at which hour.

Strange, isn’t it? Such a small act can cause such a big shift in perspective. So many months, he had spent thinking of Claw Island a prison, longing to be able to come back to court. Now, he sees it as it was. A shell made to protect the most valuable pearl the sea had produced.

Had Daemon known men at court would try to steal his bride, he would have never authorized this trip. Your father could have been named Hand, but you would have never stepped foot outside your castle if Daemon had known. You would not be taken with Gwayne Hightower if he had a say in it.

He had a plan. The knight would make a fool out of himself. Daemon just had to encourage him in the right direction.

Daemon is up and about as soon as the sun is. He strolls towards the space prepared for the tournament, armor in hand. He changes slowly, giving plenty of time for Gwayne Hightower to arrive.

The foolish knight does. So do you, sitting next to your father in the stands, all pretty and glowy under the sun. You wear a red gown that compliments not only your skin tone, but pays homage to both of your houses. After all, both House Targaryen and Celtigar have red on their coats of arms. A clear show that you were meant to be his, and his alone. What would you even look like, if you were married to a Hightower fool? Red and green would look hideous in a dress.

As the highest-ranking competitor, Daemon gets to make the first challenge. To no one’s surprise, he picks Gwayne Hightower.

Daemon waits with bated breath, already seated on his horse. Does the man dare? Oh, he dares! The Hightower cunt gallops towards the stands. You don’t rise, looking towards the Hightower whore. It’s then he realizes you must be truly innocent. You are either doubting the boldness of the man or are not aware of his house, and do not recognize him under the armor.

But as Gwayne Hightower reaches the stand, Daemon close on his heels, he takes off his helmet. You gasp.

The Hightower whore makes a move as if to get up. Her brother’s voice cuts her off.

“I was hoping to get a sign of your favor, my Lady.” The man says to you, and your eyes widen. You stand, shakily. You look at Daemon, then at the cunt, then at him, then back at the cunt. Daemon arches an eyebrow, visor lifted. “For you have already struck me with your beauty, and the fact that you cannot be mine. Allow me the consolation of placing a crown of flowers upon you, and soothe my wounded heart.”

You gasp at the bold declaration. Daemon has to admit it, the cunt has some nerve. Not only has he praised you in ways that are too bold even for a couple courting, but he has slighted Daemon in front of the whole court. He has made explicit mention of your marriage to him.

Viserys eyes him warily. Daemon scoffs. The distrust is unnecessary. Why would he slaughter the Hightower now, when he has the chance to plummet him into the ground without consequences in just a few minutes? Besides, it would be in bad taste, slaughtering the brother of his sister-in-law.

Your father urges you forward, with a forced laugh. You grasp one of the favors from your box, which has only two, and place it upon the Hightower’s lanze. The pretty ribbons sway in the wind. White and red from House Celtigar proudly displayed.

Daemon clears his throat, and presents his own lanze.

“How touching.”

You ignore him, as Rhaenyra approaches. Surely thinking how he will want to wear her favor, after his rejection of last night. Curse him, Daemon thinks. He should have danced with you. If he had known that up jumped son of a rat was going to try his luck, you would have not left Daemon’s arms the whole night.

“Thank you, niece. But today I fancy wearing my wife’s favor. For it would be a shame for her to be lacking her crown once her champion undoubtedly disappoints.” He loudly declares, uncaring if his niece’s face falls. Rhaenyra will get over it. But this has turned into a manhood competition. He can’t let Gwayne Hightower, of all people, win.

“Can I do that?” Daemon hears you whisper towards Viserys and his whore. “Can I have two champions fighting each other?”

Viserys, as if this is the most fun he has had in a while, answers cheerfully.

“Of course, my dear girl.” It probably is the most fun he has had in a while. Really. It must be very amusing to him, after hearing Daemon complain about you for months. Who would have known he would have to fight some Hightower for your attention? Laughable, really. A Prince groveling. “Double the chances for you to get the flower crown, is it not?”

“Of course.” Your father jumps in, clearly trying to prevent a scandal. “Go on, love. Give the other one to your husband. If more are needed, we will get more ribbons.”

You approach Daemon, pretty little favor on your delicate hands. You smile at him, pleasantly. But this close, he can tell you are shaken by the power play happening right in front of your eyes.

Daemon lowers his lanze as you stretch to place your ribbons. You give him a confused and hurt look. He stretches closer.

“Save that one.” Daemon says, as he places a hand on your hair and pulls out the red ribbon that holds it back. “I’m your husband, I get some privileges.”

His gesture makes you laugh. Daemon feels on top of the world. He gives a superior glance to the Hightower cunt, as if saying: Look at me, I do not need half your effort and get double the results.

Daemon is not so deluded as to think the laugh is more than half nervousness and half playing the part of the dutiful wife you are, but to Daemon is still a win. He can see why the other lords want you. With your hair loose, smiling and with your skin glowing from the sun, you are actually quite pretty.

He ties the ribbon around the pommel of the lanze.

“A kiss, for good luck?” Daemon knows he is pushing, but cannot help but be smug. His pretty wife gave him her hair ribbon to tie around his chosen weapon, for all the court to see. Smugness radiates out of his pores.

Without any expectation, the sweet peck you give him is even more of a delight. Even more sweet is the disgruntled look on Gwayne Hightower's face.

Safe to say, the man gets unseated so fast, it has to be the quickest defeat ever registered. The crunch he makes as he falls from his horse it’s the most satisfying sound Daemon has ever heard. The crowd gasps and cheers. The man does not get up.

That will teach him, he decides. Gwayne Higtwoer will never again even look your way. Daemon turns his horse back around, ready to face his next opponent, but it’s stopped by the pages.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower has requested to continue with the sword.” At that, his blood boils. He nearly jumps off his horse, discarding the lanze and unsheathing Dark Sister.

“What will it be, boy? First blood?” He saunters towards the man, and the sight of him this close only serves to anger him more. He shares Otto’s slender build, tall and slight. In Hightower armor, he even looks like him. Daemon is going to enjoy this.

“Why stop there?” The knight asks, hatefully. “Until one of us yields.”

“As you wish.” Daemon charges, forgoing his shield. He is just too angered for politeness. This is not jousting anymore, it’s his hate for Higtowers, and the fact that this man has tried to take something that’s his. He should have never looked your way. Never. And if it’s up to Daemon, perhaps he will leave the arena without the ability to repeat the feat.

The fight is quick and dirty, but even when he has disarmed and cornered him, Gwayne Higtower refuses to yield.

“What are you..?” Daemon asks, utterly confused because the little savage is grabbing Dark Sister with gauntled hands and pulling.

“Just as marriage is not an excuse for not loving…” He grins, teeth bared in a feral little grin, and Daemon lets go of his sword in surprise at the boldness of the fool. “No weapon is no excuse for yielding.”

He loses it, then. Later, he will only remember red. Daemon throws himself at him and starts punching him, until the asshole goes limp on his arms and has to be pulled away from him.

Only the fact that the Hightower fought back is what allows him to keep participating in the tournament, instead of being exiled again. The split lip and bleeding eyebrow do serve to build a case in his favor.

He wins the tournament without any opposition. With bloody hands, he places the flower crown on your head. Your horrified look is not as satisfactory as he would have thought.

Pride /praɪd/

the feeling that you are better or more important than other people.

Daemon manages to get a hold of you before you vacate the stands. You are trying to avoid the crowds, waiting patiently in your seat. He doesn’t allow it, urging you towards his chambers with a firm grip on your wrist.

Some other ladies titter and giggle, pointing towards the two of you. No doubt, they think he is about to ravish you. They are not wrong.

It’s not often Daemon feels desire for you. In truth, while you have a pretty mouth and a soft body, you do little for him. But today, you are enchanting. The flower crown still sits atop of your windswept hair, making you look like a forest nymph. There are a few red stains along your temple, left there by Daemon’s hands when he placed the crown on top of your hair.

Never has there been a woman more deserving of the title of Queen of Love and Beauty. As you walk with him down the halls, he feels a smug sort of satisfaction. Here is the woman half the court wants, Daemon wants to scream. Here is my wife.

The feeling is not unfamiliar to him, but it is in relation to you. His possessive nature so far has only extended towards members of his house. The lust is new, too. Daemon has experimented it many times, but never towards whom he should.

As soon the door closes after you, he kisses you forcefully, only for you to shove him away.

“What are you doing?” You ask, as you spit out some of his blood. You are remarkably strong, having been able to push him while still in armor. But what shocks him the most is the fact that you did it at all. Months of marriage and you have done nothing but smile, regardless of what Daemon does.

“Shh, Lady Wife. Nothing unusual, I assure you.” He pulls you back in, kissing along your neck. This time, you push him even harder.

Daemon stumbles and blinks, hard. Are you rejecting him? He sits down on the bed and takes off his helmet. He has beaten the Hightower fool half to death and won you the silly flower crown. Why would you reject him?

“You prefer him, don't you?” That has to be the answer, surely. You must be having an affair with the cunt. Why else would you reject him? It’s not allowed. While Daemon is not particularly keen on forcing you, you are his wife. He has a right to your body, and you shouldn’t deny him. You know it. Never before have you refused him, due to the same reason. So this must be something else.

“What nonsense are you on, now?” You barely lift your eyes from your work, busy with pouring some water in a bowl and taking out clean linens. Efficiently, as if a seasoned healer, and not a soft lady from Claw Island, you rip them apart.

“Don’t play daft, wife.” Daemon reproaches, scowling. Your innocent act is starting to tire him. You can’t possibly believe him so dumb. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“If this is about Ser Gwayne…” You start and he feels the urge to scream. He can’t help but cut you off.

“Of course it is! Of course it is about that fucking Hightower.” Daemon’s voice goes high-pitched, imitating yours. “Ser, Ser.” He rolls his eyes. “How easily they hand titles now. Is every scum in this realm a knight?”

Your face doesn’t even twitch. That is one of the things about you that drive him to insanity. No matter what Daemon says, he never seems to get a reaction. It’s infuriating. You are all manners and dimples, even in the face of the most vile insults he throws your way. You either have no honor, letting him stomp all over you, or you think him right. Pathetic. Even the Bronze Bitch bit back.

His nostrils flare. Softly, you step between his parted legs and dab at the cut on his brow with a soaked linen. Ever dutiful.

“You do know adultery is a crime.” Daemon says, in a low, threatening tone. You give him a pleasant smile, squeezing water out of the cloth. It runs red and fast down your wrist.

“So is incest.” Your voice is far too cheerful for someone who just got accused of a crime that’s punishable by death if he so chooses. And not only that, but you have the nerve to threaten him.

“I am a Targaryen.” Daemon practically growls. You glare at him. He should be angry, but instead, his loins seem to heat up. Who can fault him? Any man would feel the urge to take you over and over, when faced with those eyes and those lashes.

Surely, after it, you would understand you were his and not Gwayne Hightower’s. It was not such an ambitious plan. Perhaps a lesser man would have trouble with it, but not Daemon. Give him ten minutes between your legs and you would be singing his praises.

“And I am a Celtigar.” His pause has allowed you enough time to form a retort. You press down on the cut on his brow with a viciousness that startles him. Daemon winces in pain. No getting distracted, he notes. Less you murder him when he is not paying attention. “To stifle the blood flow.” You explain, but Daemon can see the bloodlust in your eyes. You want him to hurt. The past few months have not gone in vain, it appears.

“Mine, you are mine.” He replies, gruffly.

You let go of the cloth, hands on your hips. Your mouth opens and closes, astonished.

“You don’t have any right to speak those words to me.” How he longs to grab you and show you exactly who is in charge. There you are, screaming! You! The woman who Daemon doubted knew how to make sounds louder than polite conversation. “Am I not the bride you never wanted? Your chain? Well then, sail free. Go!” You scream, and Daemon needs to pick his jaw off the floor because never has he seen you this angry.

Are you screaming at him? He feels the urge to pinch himself, to see if he is dreaming. But the way you are pointing your finger towards the door seems very real. Still a bit confused by the sudden personality change, Daemon does not obey.

It feels like a dream. Like stepping into a parallel world. The words that come out of his mouth are spoken by a stranger, and he can only watch as you turn more and more furious.

“No. Come here.” Daemon grabs at your gown, trying to pull you into him. He doesn’t really know what he is going to do if you budge. Place you in his lap and placate you with a kiss? He doesn’t get to find out. Grabbing you has clearly been the wrong move.

You slip out of his grip with a harsh jerk. Daemon is not as young as he used to be, but the sight makes his lust bubble up. You are alluring when angry, all passionate lines, and bloody temples. Valyrian, in a way you had never been before, with your darker coloring and soft manners. Yet, when mad? You are a conqueror goddess made flesh.

“No! I will not. I am not yours. We might be married but I will…” You stomp your foot at him, all angry little crab. For the first time, he sees fire in you.

Such a shame this is the moment you chose to grow a spine. He couldn’t understand where you had been all this time. So many months wasted with the meek little wife, when he could have had you instead.

Why had you decided to show you had a personality now, of all times? It was not fair, if it was for that Hightower cunt.

“Why Gwayne Hightower? Out of all the men on earth?” Daemon mutters, clearly not low enough because you answer him.

“This is not about Gwayne Hightower.” You glare, crown of flowers balancing precariously on top of your head. As you move, a few petals fall down. Angry little dryad that you are, you bat them away.

“If not, what is it about?”

“You!” You scream at him. It’s hateful, it's rage filled, it’s everything you are usually not. A true Valyrian goddess, letting mere mortals feel her might. Daemon would have enjoyed the display more if he wasn’t the mortal in question. “I forgot what it felt like to be wanted. To be looked at as someone who was desirable. Do you know how I have felt? Begging for scraps of attention, trying to make this work?”

“Wife…” He pleads because now there are tears in your eyes, and while Daemon doesn’t do begging, he doesn’t do comforting either.

“Do not call me that! Didn’t you petition for an annulment?” And how had you found out about that? While he had not been exactly secretive with his correspondence, he didn’t believe you to be proficient in High Valyrian. He has no time to ponder on it because you intend to go further. “Well, you are in luck! I will make my own request!”

“Viserys will not allow it.” Even if Daemon has to go beg him on his knees to not grant it, you are not annulling this marriage. Not when he is just starting to see the real you.

“Fine! Then I am going back to Claw Island. Stay here.” You scream, and you look so determined it scares him. For a second, he actually thinks you have the power to ban him from the island and force him to stay, giving you plenty of time to receive visitors. Male visitors, all surrounding you, courting you, as if he were already dead and not just exiled.

“Look. I’m sorry. Can we start over?” Daemon offers, in his most pleading tone. He has not apologized since… Gods. He barely remembers how to do it.

“You made me forget I deserved more than scraps.” You laugh at him, as his first apology to someone in more than ten years is the funniest joke existing. Then, enraged. “It will be a cold day in the Seven Hells, when I give you another chance.”

Hurt. He realizes, as you throw the flower crown at his feet and slam the door. Hurt. You are hurt, not angry. He has done the worst thing a man can do to a woman. Damage her pride.

Lust lʌst/

very strong sexual desire, especially when love is not involved.

Much to your dismay, every time you try to speak alone to the King, you are swiftly intercepted. If it’s not Corlys Velaryon asking you to help him pick a book in the library, it’s your Lord Father summoning you to his chambers. It seems like the whole palace is in it because even Princess Rhaenys asks you to stroll with her through the gardens when you lurk too close to Viserys’s chambers.

Daemon was smarter than you thought. He had taken to using your own weapons against you. The need to be polite kept you from rejecting all these new invitations, and so, you often ended up stuck an entire afternoon with nonsensical plans.

As time passes, your rage starts to subside. Much to your disgust, it morphs into shame. You cannot believe how you lost control in front of Daemon. Everything you have worked so hard on could vanish for a single afternoon pf foolishness.

You would rather not be his enemy. When the time comes for the two of you to go back to Claw Island, Gwayne Hightower is still bedridden, despite it already being days. Daemon is a dangerous man to cross.

Strangely enough, he doesn’t seem angry, or even resentful. In fact, your husband has never been more attentive. With the talent of existing just at the right moment, Daemon appears at your side each time there is a door to be opened or a chair to be pulled.

“No one has ever seen him like this.” Queen Alicent marvels, as he watches him go fetch you a blanket in case the room is too cold for your liking. “Whatever you did to him…”

“Nothing, I assure you.” You answer, sternly. You don’t want her getting funny ideas, like that you are dabbling in witchery or the Seven knows what. It’s not something you can afford. Already balancing on a tightrope after the fight, any accusation could be your ruin. You do not trust Daemon’s change of heart. He is probably just biding his time.

Noticing something is amiss, Daemon comes back with the blanket, wrapping it around you. Alicent falls quiet.

Daemon stares at you, his hands lingering on your back more than necessary. He seems to be taking you in. His eyes fixate on your bosom a tad too long before you realize what he is doing, and you cover yourself more with the blanket.

Your cheeks heat up. You cough. Alicent’s brows raise.

“You are so beautiful, wife.” Daemon says, a bit dumbly.

“And you are a fool.” Your response is heated, and stupid, too. But you feel too embarrassed to care. Alicent is still sitting there, with a scandalized look on her face. Anyone would be ashamed to be the object of such obvious ogling, much less when they have never been exposed to it.

You are unused to this side of your husband. At most, when trying to consummate, Daemon would glance at you with disdain and proclaim it was all your fault. His eyes would never watch the heaving of your chest as you breathed, or the sway of your skirts when you walked. Were you superstitious, you would have thought him a man possessed.

Daemon laughs, either at your comment or your expression. It’s good, you suppose. At least he has not taken offense. You would have thought he would be angered, never one to suffer affronts to his pride without reacting.

“Your fool.” He leans down and places a kiss on your forehead, before walking away.

You stare at him. Alicent stares at you. Neither says anything. You are not sure what to make of it. It’s strange. It’s him now, who serves you dinner. The choicest cuts of meat, the sweetest of wines and meads, never asking for anything in exchange.

He has gotten unusually affectionate. Or possessive. Whatever it’s going through his mind, you don’t know. Daemon has never been open about his thoughts and feelings with you, unless they stem from displeasure.

Perhaps it’s a burst of boastfulness. He flaunts you, a hand on your waist, lower arm, whatever he can get away with. He is suddenly interested in the dresses you wear, commenting on them and gifting you new ones just because he thinks they would suit you. You do not miss the fact that the dresses are always in his house’s colors or styles he personally favors, with intricate needlework and embroidery.

It’s interesting. Once again, his testing of boundaries seems to come back. His hands are always playing with the curls at the nape of your neck, or the folds of your skirt. You have even caught him toying with the buttons of your bodice. It borders on the inappropriate.

“You are pushing it.” You say to him when his hands curls around yours as you dance. He is supposed to keep his hand extended for this step. He doesn’t seem to care. The other guests give him amused looks. No one is about to chide a Prince for his lovesick behavior towards his wife. Especially in a goodbye feast for the couple.

In truth, you are starting to think most of the fathers at court are relieved. If the Rogue Prince is chasing after his wife, then he is not chasing their daughters.

“Holding your hand is pushing it?” Daemon holds your hand more securely, as he makes you spin. This is another new and unexpected development. Now, he only dances with you. No heated looks at Rhaenyra, no longing glances towards Laena. You are not sure how you feel about it.

“It is. You are inconveniencing everyone.” You say, as he spins you again with a flourish. Despite wanting so badly to keep being cross with him, you cannot help but laugh with childish delight. What girl doesn’t want to be twirled around and made to feel special? “You are supposed to exchange partners.”

The balance of the dance has been thrown off by his refusal to let go of you. Any time there needs to be a switch, the couples flounder around the two of you. It’s childish on his part, but he seems unwilling to let you dance with another man.

“Oh, you haven’t seen me pushing it yet.” Daemon laughs, and pulls you in until your body is flush against his. It’s improper and probably not allowed. Scandalous, even. Yet again, no one is about to say anything.

Much less you, suddenly realizing that being pressed so close to Daemon is quite enjoyable. He smells surprisingly clean this evening. No trace of alcohol on his skin, or other women’s perfumes. Instead, he smells of the soap he usually favors and some sort of aromatic oil.

“Will you push further, then?” You raise your brows. It’s sort of amusing that Daemon is trying so hard. You would have not taken him for the seducing type, not when he had been so keen on dissolving your marriage.

“I will.” Daemon leans in, to whisper in your ear. His voice is low, thick with desire. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I want you. I burn for you. I need you in my bed, on top of me, under me, any way you will let me have you.”

You give a scandalized little gasp, softly hitting his shoulder. Daemon grins, pulling you in even more. The two of you are so close, you imagine you can feel his heart beating against yours.

“I’m not done.” He chuckles, leaning in to kiss your jaw. Daemon’s lips trail kisses towards your ear, teasingly blowing some air against it. “I want to spend the nights feasting between your thighs, on the valley of your breasts…”

“Stop it! We are in public.” You squeak, yet you look up at him like a flower searching for the sun. The attention he bestows on you is flattering, and you can't help but want to hear more.

“Do you want to hear a secret, wife? Every time you walk, I find myself lost in the sway of your hips. I want to drown on it. Drown on you. Until no trace of another remains, until the taste of your lips is the only thing I know.”

By this point, your skin feels so hot you worry you are about to combust. You gape at him. Not only has he dared to make a bold declaration, but he has done so in a room full of people.

You take a moment to gather yourself. Daemon could be bluffing for all you know, and so, you decide to match him. You brush your thumb against his cheekbone, feather-light.

“Then do it. No one is stopping you. Come to bed. Drown on me. Drink me, take me, ravish me.” You are trembling, and you only realize it when Daemon holds you tighter against him. You feel feverish, voice lowered to an urgent whisper. “Give me Valyrian sons, to hold my island when we are both gone.”

“No. No.” He says, against the curve of your neck, embraced much closer than the dance requires, making a spectacle. “I want them to have your smile and your eyes, and that infuriating curve of your shoulder. Give me daughters with your smart mouth, and your even temper. I want them to be proof of the love I had for you.”

You tremble more. Love. He really said… Oh, by the Seven.

“You are shaking.” Daemon kisses your brow. “Don’t. Unless it is from pleasure.”

Laughter rings in your ears. It's yours, but it feels foreign. You are too stunned to think clearly. Daemon tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Are you still there, Lady Wife?” He taps at your lower lip with his thumb. There is a teasing tilt to his smile, but his eyes are nervous. Vulnerable. Daemon was clearly not planning on confessing tonight. “Or have I broken you?”

“Prove it.” You say, still caught up on the love part. His declaration has sent your mind reeling, and shown you all of your latest interactions in a new light. You don’t know if Daemon knows what he is doing. He is a deeply passionate creature, much like his house’s sigil. Daemon doesn’t do infatuations, nor does he do dislikes. He loves or hates, and there is no in between.

“I will.” He promises, playing with a stray piece of hair that has fallen out of your up do. “Our whole lives. But perhaps I can start tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You frown, puzzled. You even pull back from his embrace to be able to look at his face. What an odd thing to say. Despite it, you admire the utter shamelessness he has about it. Were it you the one accidentally confessing, you would be a bundle of nerves.

Daemon doesn’t even blush. Of course, there is the small fact that he believes himself to be the Seven’s gift to humankind. You suppose if you believed yourself to be irresistible, you wouldn’t be nervous either. Cockiness wasn’t something you thought did it for you, but it seemed like you were learning new things every day.

“You will see.” Daemon smiles. You let him keep his secret, figuring it can’t be anything that bad.

You discover what he means when you arrive at Claw Island. A dragon egg waits for you, the fireplace clearly modified in a hurry, judging by the new stones and bricks that were added to the hearth.

“Even if it never hatches, I want you to have it. For you are as Valyrian as we are, and I was a fool not to see it sooner. You are worthy. It should have been on your cradle as a child.”

Greed /ɡriːd/

a strong desire for more wealth, possessions, power, etc. than a person needs.

The way his eyes trail after you now, it’s quite unfamiliar. Not lust, nor disdain. Something entirely new. Heavier.

Your afternoons have been filled with new entertainment. You coo at the egg, holding it over the fire. Sometimes, Daemon kneels beside you and helps you hold it, making a game of it. How long before either of you gets burned? How long can you endure, hands so close to the fire, before you are yelping and giving it to him?

When you think he is not looking, you speak to it in High Valyrian, whispering soft promises of how loved him or her will be once it hatches. There is no doubt in your mind it will. Perhaps not in weeks, or even months. Yet, your heart tells you there will be a dragon before your life ends.

Every night, you place the egg in the bed next to you. On your side, you curl around it, trying to share your warmth. Daemon reaches forward, sometimes. When he thinks you are asleep, his hand will curl over your waist and touch the egg, pressing it more against your stomach. You wonder what he means by it.

Does he know what he is doing? The low lullabies he half sings, half mutters under his breath indicate a yes. The way his lips curl into a soft smile against your nape show a longing that’s very much not subconscious.

Just as a pot of boiling water, the egg hatches a night no one it’s looking at it. Both Daemon and you are curled in a love seat, engrossed in a book. He is reading something about the doom of Valyria, your legs over his lap. You are submerged in a text about a man’s travels around the Free Cities.

One of his hands is wrapped around your ankle, in the sweetest of chains. Each time he flips a page, he will brush it with his thumb, softly. While not unwelcome, it’s strange. You are not used to being comforted in the same way you did for him during the first months of marriage. While Daemon doesn’t expect any kind of retribution, you find yourself granting it anyway.

The domesticity is quickly broken, however, when a strange noise fills the halls of your home. At first, you are unable to hear it through the background noise, but if you strain your ears, you can just make it out. It’s a shrill cross between a bird’s chirps and someone crying.

“Daemon?” You close your book and stare at him. Unable to help it, you get a little sidetracked, watching his face. His mouth is pursed in concentration, the candlelight giving his features a golden glow. Despite him being several years older than you, you cannot help but find him terribly handsome. Age has only turned him more distinguished. You betted he was dashing when younger, but unlike his brother, he has aged like a fine wine.

Sensing your eyes on him, he gives you a lazy smile.

“Little wife.” His voice comes out in a pleased rumble at having caught you looking. Your face heats up. Daemon's eyes shift from yours, to your mouth, then back to your eyes. You squirm under his gaze, trying to focus.

“Do you hear that?” You force yourself to utter.

“Hear what?” Daemon leans more towards you, his hand squeezing your knee. You give a small, delighted shiver. Good gods, what is it about him that gets you to turn into a puddle of want with the simplest touch?

“Some sort of animal crying.��

Daemon frowns. He tilts his head to the side, as if to listen better. You keep quiet, hoping to aid him. Then, his face breaks out in the biggest grin.

“It hatched! You amazing, wonderful woman.” He praises, pulling you into him. The hug is awkward, but it doesn’t last because you are too eager to see the baby dragon. Your dragon. You squirm out of his hold and rush out of the room, not even bothering to put on shoes, Daemon hot on your heels.

When you open the door to your chambers, you find the cutest thing ever. A baby dragon, slimy and confused, sits in the middle of his egg in the fireplace. It’s all big, dark eyes and long limbs, much like a baby horse. Unable to resist the temptation, you reach towards them.

“I do not…” Daemon tries to stop you, but the baby dragon climbs right up into your arms, curling close to your chest. Eager to touch it, you let it climb over your shoulder and nuzzle you, even if the sudden weight makes you stagger a little.

“That was really dangerous.” Your husband reprimands, trying to lift it away from you. The baby dragon snorts towards his direction, as if attempting to breathe fire. It only manages to give a cute little sneeze. Daemon glares.

“Aw, you are just like a baby.” You coo at the dragon, petting its head. Daemon looks even more disgruntled.

“Your dragon tried to burn me.” He complains.

“It’s a baby, husband. They don’t know any better.” You rub the scales on its back, soothingly. Unwilling to let go, you find yourself looking around your bedroom. “Let it stay here? Just for tonight.”

Daemon glares. You give him your biggest, most pleading eyes. He relents.

“Fine. But it’s not sleeping on the bed with us. And only for tonight.”

“Only for tonight.”

A month after, and the baby dragon is still sleeping in your bed. He has taken to laying between Daemon and you, leeching off your warmth. Daemon complains of having to sleep on the edge of the bed and his back being sore, but despite it, never once asks you to send the dragon outside with Caraxes.

The trouble starts, how not, with a trip to King’s Landing. This time, you ride with him, as a passenger to Caraxes, while the baby dragon follows. When Daemon lands, the dragon keepers fret around your baby, unsure of what to do with the unexpected visitor.

You command him to stay by your side, despite the protests of the dragon keepers. You are arguing and complaining and shielding your baby while Daemon only watches, amused.

Perhaps the commotion attracts more people, or someone calls for them, but you end up cornered as King Viserys makes his way to the dragon pit.

“What do we have here?” He asks, smiling at you. You give him a nervous look. Your dragon has gotten bigger, and so, you can not pick him up gracefully, but you usher him behind you regardless.

“Nothing, your grace.” You say, lacking your usual charm. You feel nervous about leaving the baby dragon on his own in the dragon pit. What if the other dragons don’t like him? What if he gets lonely?

With one hand, you reach for Daemon. His fingers meet yours halfway, squeezing reassuringly. More often than not, being a woman, your orders were not taken seriously. But if your husband gave an order, people would rush to obey. You hope he intercedes in your favor.

“Daemon, please.” You say, under your breath. “Don’t let them send him away. He will behave.”

“What do I gain, little wife?” He asks, interlocking your fingers together. Daemon gives his most charming grin to his brother, before pulling you into him. You go willingly, body lax and pliant for him. “A kiss, perhaps?”

“Please.” You turn to look at him, hoping to move him. This close, once again, you feel slightly distracted. Your husband smells so nice, and his hands feel so good around your waist, it’s no hardship at all. You press a kiss to his cheek.

“Must you always arrive with such a ruckus?” Viserys frowns. Daemon gives him a small smile.

“You know me.” Slowly, he starts to lead you towards the Red Keep, a hand placed protectively on your lower back. The message is clear. Daemon wants you to make your dragon follow you. You don’t even need to order it because your baby, smart as it is, is already following. The dragon keepers step back, muttering unhappily.

“Is it going inside?” Viserys point at your dragon. Foolishly, you had been hoping he didn’t notice, and so, your stomach drops. But Daemon doesn’t falter, strolling confidently inside as if he owned the place.

“He will behave. As long as no one touches her.” Normally, you despise when people talk about you as if you are not there. Currently, though, you can only feel relief that your dragon is not getting sent to sleep outside in the cold. He is just too little for it.

Viserys walks you towards his private dining room. A blonde child runs around, playing. The Princess and Ser Laenor are already there. And Alicent is even more heavily pregnant than before.

“How have you been?” You ask Alicent, sitting next to her. You half expect to be left out of the conversation as you were a few months before, and so, choose to sit next to someone who has been kind to you. The baby dragon hops on your lap when you take your seat.

Alicent looks absolutely horrified.

“Good enough.” She speaks, blinking slowly. It’s clear she cannot believe her eyes. She stares at the dragon in a mix of awe and fear.

“He is harmless.” You explain, petting it as if it were a small dog and not a baby dragon. “Do you want to pet him?”

Alicent reaches forward with a trembling hand. The dragon sniffs her, and curls to sleep again.

“… And I was thinking of changing the layout of the hall, to make sure he fits…” You hear Daemon complain, and your ears immediately perk up. Is he talking about your baby?

“So you keep it inside?” Viserys asks, sounding disbelieving.

“I have never seen such a close bond.” Daemon boasts. He sounds as if he is proud of you, you realize. It makes something warm flutter in your stomach. No longer are you the wife he never wanted and tried to get rid of. “Damn thing sleeps on the bed with us. It’s better trained than a dog, seriously. We should have given Celtigars dragons a long time away.”

“Why not leave it outside?” From where you are seated, you can’t see his face, but you imagine by his tone, Viserys is smiling.

“She will riot. She loves him as her own son.” Daemon explains. You keep your eyes trained on the nervous Alicent, who has managed to lay her hand on top of your dragon’s head. She looks about to bolt.

“Isn’t he the nicest thing?” You say to Alicent, excited. “He thinks I am his mom, or something. Isn’t it great?”

Alicent does not look as impressed as you hoped for, but she gives you a kind smile. She seems willing to tolerate your eccentricities if for the sake of not having to make conversation with Rhaenyra.

“Very nice.” She compliments. “Pretty colors. Prince Daemon was very kind, giving it to you.”

“He is.” You smile, softly. ��Although he complains all the time.”

Alicent shrugs. This time, both of you tune in the conversation between Daemon and Viserys.

“Perhaps, as you build him something outside, you can distract her with an actual baby.” Viserys says. Alicent looks torn at the comment, and you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by the topic.

It’s not something you had thought about before. Well, you had. Never with him, though. As a girl, you dreamed of being a mother, and as a woman, Daemon and you had discussed the issue of heirs already. You had spoken about it during your last goodbye feast, in this same castle. But those words had been spoken in the height of passion, and neither of you had done anything about it.

“Trust me. Next time she holds a babe, it will be a proper human one.” Daemon says, and his hand finds yours over the table. You look up at him, meeting his purple eyes. He looks hungry. Starved, even.

You lower your eyes demurely. Viserys laughs. And Daemon, greedy as he is, lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

Sloth /sləʊθ/

the bad habit of being lazy and unwilling to work.

The light filters in through the open curtains, giving the room a soft glow. Daemon’s face scrunches up, bothered by the sunlight in his eyes. He has tried to convince you to sleep with them drawn, but you are unwilling. To you, the best way to wake up is slowly, with the sun. Or so you say. He is not very convinced.

Daemon stretches. You reach for him in your sleep. He gives himself a moment to savor it, the fact that he can finally pull you closer. The dragon is finally gone from his bed, although he is no way near distracting you with a babe.

Dragons are not pets. Daemon had been taught that since the cradle, even before he had a dragon of his own. Their control over them was only an illusion, and so, they should be trusted but feared. He had lived by that rule, never once questioning it. Until you.

Watching you raise yours as if it were your own child had proven interesting. You lacked his education about them, but you made up for it by sheer enthusiasm. The fact that your dragon had not bitten your hand off yet or burned you to a crisp could only mean two things: You were some sort of forest nymph, or they were mistaken about their approach to dragons. He knew which one he thought was true.

How much was nature, and how much was nurture in their relationship with dragons? Trying to answer that question would occupy his entire lifetime. Daemon hoped that watching you gave him some insight. Even if he ended up discovering you were a nymph in disguise or some sort of goddess of the hunt. He wouldn’t regret it, fascinating as you were.

No matter how much food for thought you gave him, Daemon had been enjoying the joys of marriage. Perhaps, a little too much. Seeing you with the baby dragon had awoken some unexpected feelings. Targaryens were dragons, after all. When the time came, you would make a good mother. Not only were your instincts well-developed, but you seemed to thrive on having something to nurture.

Ah, the joys of domesticity. Daemon loves that you trust him enough now to allow him to witness you at your most fragile. Asleep and wearing a soft white night shift, you are deliciously innocent. Giving, too. You do not complain when his hands find your hips or when he pulls you flush against him. Nor do you move away when his face hides in your lovely locks, mussed with sleep.

Your expression is open and vulnerable in ways you are never when truly awake. Your eyes open just the tiniest sliver, before you hide your face on your pillow, rubbing against it like the sweetest kitten.

He adores you like this. Worships you, even. Obsessed with the curve of your hip, or the soft flesh above your womb. Daemon can’t help but rub it, hoping to manifest a child into existence without actually fucking you.

If he believed in such a thing, as so many fools in this realm did, Daemon would say this was the Seven Heavens. But he knew the truth. Just like you, who worshiped the Old Gods of Valyria, Daemon did too. How could he not when he had a tiny goddess sharing his bed?

Your nose scrunches up. You twitch. Worshiping a little nymph, now that was hard work. Especially when the nymph in question does her best to escape his personal worshiping time.

If Daemon could spend all day in bed, just like this, he would. He would trace your features with his mouth, peppering your face with soft kisses. He would feast on the soft curve of your neck, drink up all your sweet little noises. Trace a path down your soft limbs, draw nonsensical patterns on your stomach. But you are an energetic little thing, always jumping out of bed, no matter the pleasure he tempts you with.

Convincing you to stay is hard, but Daemon likes to think it’s an art he has perfected. It’s not a ritual, by any means. Each morning goes differently. Sometimes, you need to be kissed silly. Sometimes, you need to be gently worshiped and coaxed back to sleep. But his favorite mornings are the ones that go like this.

“I have to go check on the tenants, down by the shore. The rain season just started.” You complain, as he noses along your hairline. Suddenly, Daemon’s arms are empty. He opens his eyes to find you sitting up and pulling your robe over your night shift.

You look delectable in red. He should buy you more robes like that one. Especially because he is about to ruin it.

“Did you say at what hour you are going?” Daemon sits up as well, toying with the edge of your robe. You bat his hands away, playfully.

“No.” You are hurriedly standing up, perhaps knowing what comes next. Daemon grabs your robe, and pulls you back in, using all his strength.

No matter how much you try to keep your feet planted on the floor, you end up tumbling back into bed. You give a girlish shriek, a smile already forming on your face. You struggle, kicking the blankets off the bed.

“Come back here, you little minx.” He tugs you by the ankle, making you laugh. Your hair is sticking up in all directions and your chest heaves up and down with the exertion of putting up a fight.

Daemon secretly loves it. He would never tell you because you would be outraged, but he enjoys the idea of overpowering you. Perhaps, once you fully trust him, he could ask you to play like that. But for now, he takes what he can get.

“Or else what Lord husband?” You tease, still trying to escape him. More blankets and furs are sent flying off the bed. You give a mean little tug to his hair.

“That was it!” Daemon complains, and starts tickling you. The night shift rides tantalizingly up your hips, giving him an unintentional show. He feels his blood warming, arousal turning into a dull throb in his loins. Your legs kick wildly, you squirm on the bed, and your eyes fill with tears from laughing so much.

It’s only when your poor body can’t take it anymore, and you are crying from laughter that he stops. He thinks of how it would feel, to overwhelm you in a different context, make your body take and take until tears ran freely down your temples. A different sort of crown for his forest nymph, one made from her own silver tears. The visual is too much for him to take without giving himself away.

Daemon lies on top of you, smothering you with his weight. He licks a few stray drops of sweat from your neck, making you flay once again. There will be a day when play wrestling will turn into something much less sweet. That day, though, it’s not today.

“Get off!” You complain. “That’s disgusting.”

“I could eat you up.” He teases, nuzzling into your neck. It's the truth. Daemon loves the taste of your skin and your smell. If he thought he could get away with it, he would crawl between your thighs and feast on you. “You are delicious, wife.”

“Daemon.” You push lightly at him, trying to get up. Again. But your words lack their previous conviction. Daemon can tell he is getting to you. “It’s getting late.”

“The tenants can wait. Let us hide from the world a little longer.” He pleads, clinging to you. Under him, exhausted after the play wrestling, you go limp. He knows he has won then.

You spend the whole day in bed. The tenants end up being visited closer to sundown. Daemon does not regret it one bit.

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

Text

Loose Lips — Part Two (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Finally got round to writing a part two to this after a sudden burst of inspiration. Here is Part One if you missed it.

This isn't proofread, so sorry if it's a pile of dicks. Enjoy!

Warnings: smuttysmutsmut 🌶️

��: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

The forest was undoubtedly beautiful. A place of sure serenity. Somewhere you’d always found peace.

Right now, you felt like nothing short of a thunderbolt in its flawless midst.

You shifted on your feet for what felt like the millionth time, pressing your back against a tree and crossing your arms over your chest. You wouldn’t be able to relax until this meeting was over with.

Rhysand’s violet eyes flicked over you, and he frowned. “Are you alright? Why are you so restless?”

Because we’re here to meet with Eris and the last time I did that I somehow, kind of, maybe ended up fucking him—

“Fine.” You quickly answered. “Pain. My cycle is coming.”

Rhys’s eyes softened. “We’ll make this as quick as possible. Once the prick actually deigns to show up.”

You didn’t have a shred of doubt that Eris’s tardiness was deliberate — a power play. And he could play all the games he liked, so long as he kept his damn mouth shut.

As if you’d summoned him with a thought, the Autumn male appeared out of a chill-kissed breeze, his crackling-fire-and-cinnamon scent enveloping you. You tried desperately to block it out — and the sinful thoughts that accompanied it. Of bare skin. Panting breaths. Moans—

“Afternoon.” Eris smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. He offered Rhysand a cursory glance before turning his attention on you. “You’re looking radiant today, Y/N.”

You pursed your lips. Kept your mouth shut. You weren’t getting into it with him — weren’t giving him any ammunition to spill the truth of what had transpired a month earlier.

His lips twitched as he studied you. “What, no smartass response?”

“Cut the shit, Eris.” Rhys rolled his eyes. “Share your information so we can get out of here. We don’t wish to be subjected to your tedious company for any longer than is necessary.”

He cocked his head, and you hated that you noticed he’d cut his hair since you’d last seen him. “Do you not like my company?”

You knew his words were directed at you. He’d come here to play games, and you were having none of it. He allowed his gaze to linger on you for a second longer before turning to your High Lord.

“Well?” Rhys cocked an eyebrow.

Eris folded his arms. “The King of Hybern…”

You didn’t allow yourself to hear the rest of his sentence. For the first time in your career as Rhysand’s courtier, you tuned out, taking in none of the information that was being given. You didn’t hear a word of their discussion as you stared fiercely at a fallen leaf on the ground. You couldn’t.

Because it tortured you on a daily basis that you knew what the redhead’s voice sounded like when he was falling off that precipice into blissful release. The way it had hitched when he’d groaned deeply and spilled into you. It was all you could think about, and you couldn’t bear it.

Guilt had eaten away at you ever since. Guilt and regret. You should never have given yourself to Eris fucking Vanserra.

You only felt safe enough to tune back in when Rhys turned his gaze on you. He gave a subtle dip of his chin, and you returned it — the signal the two of you shared when you’d gleaned useful information to tuck away.

Never mind the fact that you didn’t have a single clue what that information may be.

“Alright, then.” Rhys spoke tersely to the Autumn lord. “Keep me updated. I’ll be in touch when I next need to meet with you.”

“Will it be you, High Lord?” Eris’s lips turned up. He glanced at you. “Or her? I must say, I find her far more appealing to look at.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise. Something to look forward to in your sad little life.” Rhys turned to you, holding out a hand. “Ready?”

You shook your head. “You go. I promised Madja I’d collect some herbs for her while I’m here.”

A small, pathetic part of you wanted to beg Rhys to stay; to keep you company and not leave you alone with Eris. But he was a busy male — far too busy for the drama you’d created for yourself. You plastered a smile on your face.

“I’ll see you at home, then.” He smiled. And without a goodbye to your tentative ally, he disappeared before your eyes.

Eris smirked as he turned to you. “And then there were two.”

“Leave me alone.” You pulled your foraging knife out, turning on your feet. You didn’t look back as you began to kick through leaves and twigs.

But, of course, he was hot on your trail. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to somebody who made you cum not once, not twice, but three times.”

You clenched your jaw, ignoring him as you knelt down in front of a cluster of plants. You would do better this time. You wouldn’t allow your mouth to run you down a path you couldn’t come back from.

He didn’t make it easy, though. Not as you tried to focus yourself solely on gathering the herbs Madja had listed. Despite the lack of conversation — or even acknowledgement of him — Eris pressed himself against a tree and watched you, absentmindedly cleaning his nails with the point of a dagger.

How could you ever have fallen into bed with him? You were such a damn idiot, risking everything for a few fleeting moments of passion. You tucked the herbs neatly away, pushing to your feet and brushing dirt and leaves from your breeches. You turned—

And stopped as Eris appeared in front of you. He smirked. “I’m still waiting, Y/N.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For you to thank me for not spilling your dirty little secret.”

Prick. You shoved past him, ignoring his warmth, his scent.

He was at your side in seconds. “Aren’t you so relieved that I didn’t slip up and tell Rhysand about your little ride? I still could.”

Every last drop of your sensibility fizzled out. You couldn’t stop yourself from rounding on him. “Are you truly in a position to be threatening me? Both of us fucked up that night. What do you think Beron would have to say if he found out you’d bedded someone from the Night Court, of all places?”

“My father doesn’t care who I bed. I’m free to do whatever I please, so long as it doesn’t distract me from the ultimate goal.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

His amber gaze glittered, catching the sun. “World domination.”

You rolled your eyes. “How very cliche.”

You made to push past him again, to get the fuck out of there, but his hand was suddenly gripping onto yours. In seconds, he had you pressed against the body of a tree.

You clenched your jaw. “Get. The hell. Away from—”

The remainder of the sentence didn’t have a chance to so much as form as Eris’s mouth found yours.

The press of his kiss was hot and needy, and as his lips moulded with yours, he groaned.

It was that action that made you realise just how little space existed between your bodies. His hips were pinned to yours, keeping you in place, and the warmth of him seeped into you as your breasts brushed his chest. Within seconds — mere seconds of him kissing you — you felt him harden in his breeches. His groan seemed to vibrate through every part of him and into you.

And then he was tearing his lips from yours. Staring down at you. “Fuck, you taste amazing. I’ve thought about nothing but this,” he rolled his hips against you, making sure your attention went exactly where he wanted it, “for over a month, now. Tell me you’ve been just as crazed.”

You had been. Perhaps more so. But you swallowed. “I can’t.”

That didn’t deter Eris from slanting his lips over yours again. His tongue swiped out, brushing against the seam of your lips, and you were powerless against your need as you opened your mouth and allowed him to dip in.

You gasped at the first taste of him; something cool and crisp and smoky. And you knew you were done fighting, telling yourself you didn’t want this, as you grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and hauled him more firmly against you.

He grunted as the hard evidence of his arousal pressed against your stomach. His lips slid from yours, dragging slowly over your cheek, and then the cut of your jaw, down to your neck.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He panted, pressing quick, chaste kisses to the hollow of your throat. “Tell me to stop.”

You swallowed, knowing there was no chance in hell of that. “No.”

And that single word — as much as it pained you to say it — dragged such a delicious, guttural noise from him, that you forgot entirely about who you were and why this was wrong. Nothing else mattered in that moment other than what Eris was doing.

Your mouth went so very, very dry as he pulled away to meet your gaze. And then lowered himself to his knees before you.

He was utterly uncaring of the dirt and leaves that stuck to his breeches as he clasped your legs. And the hard press of his hands felt scorching through your own pants. You wouldn’t be surprised to find that he’d turned the clothing to mere ash he dragged his palms up the backs of your legs and cupped your ass.

“You’re fucking mouthwatering.” He dipped in, pressing a kiss to your stomach through your shirt. “I need to taste you.”

“Holy gods.” You cursed, your head falling back against the tree. “Do it, then.”

Like a male entirely starved and desperate, his nimble fingers moved to the buttons on your breeches, making quick work of getting them undone. The second they were loosened enough, he yanked them down with a feral command that had heat rushing between your legs.

And he could scent that. You knew it. He inhaled deeply, and his responding moan was sinful.

“This is wrong.” Your voice was weak, useless, as your head fell back.

“So wrong.” Eris hooked his fingers into the thin waistband of your undergarments. Tugged them down..

You made no move to stop him. “And stupid. And selfish. And—”

Your words turned into a moan as he dipped in and dragged his tongue up the very centre of you.

A satisfied grunt left him, and he lifted your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder. It had you at a better angle, closer to him, so he could feast on you.

And feast, he did.

His mouth and tongue were renowned for wielding wicked, barbed words, but this was a different language entirely. His fingers dug into your legs as he buried himself between your thighs, licking and lapping and fucking devouring. He made his way up, scraping teeth over your clit, the sensation both pleasant and unpleasant. Before you had a chance to react, he soothed over the area with the pad of his tongue, and a bolt of white-hot pleasure surged through you.

“Oh, gods.” Breathy words escaped your lips. Thank the Mother above for the mammoth tree at your back that gave you the support to move as you wished to move, undulating your hips, grinding against Eris’s face.

And from the way he growled and feasted on you harder, you knew he liked it. He was becoming coated in you, painting himself with your wetness. With the roll of your hips picking up pace, he didn’t falter once.

“Look at you.” He breathed, eyes flicking up to drink you in. “You’re a fucking vision.”

“Stop talking and make me—oh.”

Your hips bucked as he slid a finger into you, the friction of his callused skin like a sinful bite you wanted more of. You didn’t know if you vocalised that, or if Eris simply read you well, but he quickly added a second finger, pumping them in and out.

“Just as you felt around my cock that night.” He panted. “Squeezing me like that.”

You threaded your fingers through his hair, needing to just…to just grab onto something. He seemed to like it as you pulled, and he thrust his fingers faster in return.

“I’m going to make you come on my fingers.” His tongue stroked at you. “And again on my cock.”

Somewhere, some steeled part of you wanted to give a smartass retort. But you were far too gone, splintering into tiny shards of pleasure against that tree. There was nothing, in that moment, besides the sensations Eris Vanserra dragged from between your thighs. No long-lived feuds or tentative alliances or right or wrong.

It was just him. His fingers. His tongue.

And it sent you hurtling right off that blissful cliff edge into release.

As you came, you thought you maybe shouted loud enough to frighten the birds from the trees. Your pleasure was a fearsome force as it stormed your body, your mind, your soul, until you weren’t sure who you’d be without it. How you could survive not experiencing this weightlessness again.

And Eris…he seemed to enjoy your pleasure as much as you did. Even though his cock strained through his breeches, touched by nothing but torturous fabric, his tongue and fingers continued to guide you through your climax, and he peppered in filthy, scandalous words that you were far too fractured to make sense of.

Until he pulled back to look up at you again. “I’ve wanted you since the second I first saw you.” He said.

You weren’t sure you could deny, any longer, that this truly had been going on for that long. It didn’t start with that one night of bad decisions driving you into bed with him. It had been years and years of thinly-veiled threats and barbed words and insults and vitriol soaked in lust.

Every bit of hatred you’d ever directed at each other had been to try and avoid this — giving in to a carnal need that had existed between you since the first ever time your eyes had met.

You knew you didn’t have that strength, that resolve, anymore.

“I need you inside me.” Your voice was rough, raw. You reached down, shamelessly yanking Eris to his feet by the fabric of his jacket, not caring that your desperation showed. “Fuck me.”

You wanted it — him — hot and hard and fast and certainly not gentle. You wanted the bark of the tree biting into you as he pounded you from behind. You wanted him roaring as unguarded as you had.

“You’re a little brat.” Was all he responded. And then he was kissing you again.

You allowed him the control of your lips as your fingers tore at the front buttons on his breeches. Nothing was moving fast enough, and you were hot all over, desperate to feel him pulsing deep inside you—

Y/N. I need you back here.

Rhysand’s voice in your head was akin to be plunged in ice-cold water. Damn daemati. You froze in place, your hands falling still.

Eris didn’t seem to notice as he kissed his way along your jaw.

Y/N. Rhys spoke into your mind again. Get back as soon as you can. Need to discuss Azriel’s report.

You sucked in a breath, planting your hands on Eris’s arms. You pushed him off you. “I have to leave.”

He paused, surprise crossing his face. “What?”

“I can’t — I’m needed back home.” Clarity was dawning on you more and more, paired with guilt. You’d fucked up again. You tried to shake the feeling off as you yanked your underwear and breeches up in one go. “I can’t do this.”

“Seriously?” Eris cocked an eyebrow. “You’re leaving now?”

It was an effort not to glance down at the very unsatisfied bulge still pressing through his breeches. “Rhys just spoke into my thoughts. He needs me back.”

“How convenient.”

Of course he didn’t believe you. You had to admit, it didn’t look great — getting an earth-shattering orgasm out of him and then leaving.

But perhaps it was a blessing from the Mother. Perhaps she was stopping you taking it too far a second time.

“Believe what you want.” You pushed past Eris, buttoning your breeches up. “I answer to my High Lord first and foremost.”

“Go running back to him then.” Eris shrugged. And if you weren’t mistaken, you thought that a strange quality lay in his tone. Perhaps hurt, or…or jealousy. “He says jump and you say how high, right?”

“You have your High Lord, Eris,” you smoothed over the wrinkles in your clothes, “and I have mine.”

He pressed his back against the tree, watching with an unreadable expression as you checked yourself over.

And then the corner of his mouth tipped up. “You’ll be back, sweetheart.”

You shot him a glance over your shoulder. “That is a very, very bad idea.”

You winnowed out of there before he could respond.

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cryptictongues · 4 months ago

Text

The Sun Lives in His Eyes

pairing: Vincent Valentine x Fem!Reader rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+) word count: 6.9k summary: You try on swimsuits for Vincent, and he doesn't know how to handle it.

warnings: porn with feelings, angst, teasing, lots of dry humping and making out, come tasting, sexual tension

Spoilerwise, I made it so the emotions after the second visit to the Golden Saucer were present but didn't get very specific as to why aside from the keystone and what the stone is needed for (which is in the OG game too). Other than that, this is pretty spoiler free!

Also, just to add, when trying on bathing suits, please for the love of GOD keep your underwear on. Don't let your bare cooch touch it.

Please read my pinned post before following me! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked as this blog’s content is NSFW.

[AO3 link]

It was midday in Costa Del Sol and it was alive as usual. The beach goers were all in their swimsuits, with their beautiful lays and their skin that had been kissed by the sun. The sky was as blue as can be with a slight overcast of clouds. Booths of a multitude of items for sale and fun games that make the atmosphere of the area feel like one big fair. It was a refreshing change of scenery, especially after the last 24 hours.

Traveling back to Costa Del Sol was no easy task, especially when exhaustion, anger, and disappointment have infiltrated the air. With the failure to retrieve the keystone, the direction of the group had faltered. No one had a clue where the Temple of the Ancients was located, and the future seemed bleak. That was until the mysterious man, the one you have grown very attached to, had suggested using the Tiny Bronco’s radio to try and intercept the signal from the Turks to retrieve the coordinates.

Vincent Valentine: the epitome of peculiar. A man, a beast, a creature of mystery. You and everyone else’s first interaction with him being an almost fatal one, for the bestial side of him was quite destructive. He was fairly fast for a creature of his size, strong reflexes, and phenomenal perception. He wasn’t a normal beast, but of course he wasn’t: he was still a human underneath it all. Which is why once he had transformed back into his original form, the brokenness and anguish that appeared on his face was apparent. You remember vividly how he had looked directly at you, stunning you in your place as you wondered what you had done to receive such a stare.

You never thought you’d make contact with those eyes again with his lack of interest in coming along. So, it was a surprise to see him hop on the Tiny Bronco, explaining the sins he must atone for. It made sense, but a weird part of you sensed that it wasn’t the full truth, especially when he kept looking your way during his tiny monologue. It stirred something within you, having never felt an intensity such as his before. All in all, however, he was a quiet one, kept to himself, and very much an observer.

A very, very good observer.

Something that drew you to each other was neither of you were talkers. You’ve always been the reserved one of the group, not minding wandering around on your own while the others stayed together. The introvert in you enjoys the peace and quiet when able to have it, even though you love your found family. You assumed Vincent relates in some way because after the arrival to Costa Del Sol the first time, he has lingered by your side ever since. You didn’t mind the company, especially when there was a silent mutual understanding between you two.

What you did mind, however, was how utterly insane he’d make you feel. You don’t know if it’s all in your head, but day by day you swear he is advancing his way into your heart and loins. It started with simple glances that led to subtle grazes of his covered fingers on your exposed ones. The intimate moments have gradually increased, which have haunted your dreams in the most intimate of ways.

Back at the Golden Saucer, you and Vincent had been off on your own together. You both had stayed in the Queen’s Blood gaming area for a while, playing stacked games since you both were considered pros amongst most people. It was the last round, and you had a slight lead. You were waiting for him to take his turn, watching him contemplate his hand. You were hoping, praying even, that he didn’t see how you had set yourself up to win.

But of course, he had seen right through it. Once he plucked the card he wanted to use from his deck, you already knew it’s game over. You had let out a groan before he could put it down and the look in his eyes shifted as quickly as they had shifted back in amusement.

“You don’t even know what I am playing.”

“I can take a wild guess.”

“Hmm, is that so?” He had hummed, leaning in as close as he could without his body messing up the board. He had held his card between two of his left fingers, dangling the damn thing in front of you. “If you guess the specific card I’m about to play correctly, you win.”

You were in shock as he was one to never willingly gamble his wins. In your dysfunctional brain, you had thought about all of the cards he had in his possession. Vincent’s biggest asset as a player was knowing how to use his cards, often using ones that didn’t seem to do much on the surface. You had thought long and hard, debating between which cards he could have considered, before deciding there was only one that made the most sense.

“Grandhorn.”

Vincent chuckled, putting his card down, and low and behold the Grandhorn appeared. It boosted his score a point above yours, but it hadn’t mattered. You had won.

“So, I guess I won since I guessed correctly?”

“I suppose so, but I expected nothing less.” He had leaned in once more, a glimmer in his eyes as he looked you dead on. “Smart girl.”

The way he had said it had made your insides curl with delight. Having someone like him be so teasing and flirty in his own way with you had you flushed, and you knew he noticed. Before he had said anything to send you into another flushing fit, you had quickly gotten up and told him exactly what you wanted to do next.

You had dragged him over to the G-Bike game, insisting to play as you’ve always wanted to ride a motorcycle, even if it’s just in simulation form. However, within 30 minutes, you were flinging yourself left to right with frustration with the lack of ability to get at least a one-star rating. It wasn’t until you had felt a weight behind you, recognizable leather clad arms wrapping over yours, did you realize how fucked you really were. His body was pressed right against you with every limb touching your own. His fingers had curled over yours and his breath was brushing against the sensitive skin of your ear.

“ Give me the glasses ,” he murmured.

“Let me take you for a ride.”

Needless to say, you had to excuse yourself. You had felt a tinge of embarrassment at how you reacted, but it was quickly stomped out by how much you needed to relieve yourself. You had felt bad leaving Vincent alone to wander a place that was outside of what he was acclimated to, but the hormonal teen in your brain was screaming at you to do something.

You had been thankful that everyone was out doing their thing because the minute the hotel door was shut, you were on your bed with your hand down your pants. All you could think about was how good he felt against you. He was warm and you could feel everything; from the buckles, to the leather creases, to the outline of his long cock you felt pressed against your backside. With every twist and turn, your bodies would shift, and it created a friction so teasing that you couldn’t have helped but whimpered.

You had thought about his groans when you would accidentally push back on him. The sound had vibrated on your skin, proving how close his mouth was to your neck. You remembered how his cock twitched against you. Those thoughts had only made you rub your weeping cunt more, leading to more devious ones. You wondered what would’ve happened if you had just kept grinding on him. Would he have lost control? Would he have been as flushed as you had been 30 minutes prior? Picturing images of him flushed below you as you worked each other up had sent you spiraling into release, biting your arm so as to not cause any alarm.

You had a hard time looking at him the next day without your mind wandering to something sinful. Things have toned down since due to the interruption of plans, but his gazes have stayed firm. You could always feel the stare of his eyes burning into you, and it never failed to make you squirm and plunder.

Presently, all of you were on the dock, discussing the coordinates Vincent had found over the radio. A game plan was being formed, an agreement that the rest of the day should be one of rest and preparation before the journey tomorrow. The party started to disperse, some with tasks like gathering supplies and booking rooms for the night. You were left to your own devices, debating on what you wanted to do to pass the time. You look out onto the water, and you don’t know if it is the heat or the exhaustion in your muscles, but going for a swim sounded absolutely divine.

You heard the metal clanking of Vincent’s shoes behind you, making you turn around to greet him. The thoughts back at the saucer were begging to be reminded but you pushed them back, not sure if you would survive those them with him in front of you. He greets you with a hum, hovering very close to you to the point you have to look up at him. Damn, he is so tall!

Clearing your throat, you greet him back with your thumbs twiddling with each other nervously. “So, is there anything you want to do today?”

“That is entirely up to you. Wherever you’d like to go, I’ll follow.”

Your breath starts to shutter, but you cough to cover it up. You didn’t want to make it obvious how much he is affecting you right now, even though you are sure it didn’t matter what you did. He always knew.

“Well, this may sound crazy, but I kind of want to go swimming.”

“Oh?” His head tilts, eyes amused.

“Y-yeah, but I know you cannot be comfortable in this heat. I wouldn’t want to keep you in it.”

“I can manage.”

You laugh because of course he can. “If you say so, but I will need to get a swimsuit. You don’t mind coming with me to buy one, do you?”

He shakes his head, moving to your side to allow you to lead the way. You both start walking towards the bathing suit booth up ahead and as usual Vincent’s fingers linger by yours. There is no touching, but you can feel them right by you, causing your fingers to twitch. It’s driving you mad, and you are tired of him teasing you to the point of insanity. So out on a whim, confidence boosting, you let your hand grab his metal one. You feel his walk stutter, but he quickly recovers to let the gold claws wrap around your own.

You lead him to the booth right past the dock and start to look around. There are so many options, and you can feel yourself become a little overwhelmed at your choices.

“Is everything okay?” Vincent was behind you. You guess he can see the tension in your shoulders as you peruse the different styles.

“I guess I just don’t know what would be best to wear.” You admit.

The young woman running the booth must have been waiting for an opportunity to sell because the next thing you know she is right in front of you. “Good evening! Would you like some help?”

“Oh, uh…” Before you can utter anymore words, she continues her pitch.

“It is no trouble! I can curate some of our different pieces so you can decide which ones you like best!”

Before you can decline again, she is already ushering you to the changing booth, basically shoving you in. “I’ll be right back with some swimwear!”

You peek out and you can see Vincent about to walk over to the seller, irritation clear on his face. Shit.

“Vincent, come here!”

He turns to you before walking up. As he stops in front of you, you see how much his eyes are flared, burning more red than usual. You aren’t sure how to calm him down, not seeing him like this since the incident at Shinra Manor. You reach out, letting your palm rest against his cheek, hoping that will somehow ease his mind.

“She shouldn’t have put her hands on you. She is lucky to still be standing on her two feet.”

The protective nature he was exuding was endearing, but also very sexy. You put those thoughts on the backburner, bringing your hand to his neck to stroke the irritation there.

“I appreciate you looking out for me, but I promise it’s okay. I’m okay.” You reassure, squeezing his skin right above his collarbone. “Let me try on what she offers and then we can get out of here.”

“Alright, here are a few pieces I think would go perfectly with your style!” She hands you the pieces, and turns to Vincent, clueless to the absolute annoyance he wanted to convey in that moment. “I apologize, sir, but let’s give your lady friend some privacy.”

You see his eyes flare again, and you quickly shoot your other hand out from behind the curtain to keep him facing you. “It’s okay! He can stay!”

“Well, if you insist! Just no funny business you two!” She winks at you both and walks back to her station. You gulp out of a nervous habit, even though there is no spit to swallow. Is it that obvious that you two have some unspoken thing for one another?

“Okay, um, let me try these on.” You squeeze his arm in reassurance before going back into the changing booth. You close the curtain and lay out the pieces you were working with. You inspected each one, and you came to a horrifying conclusion: these were very revealing swimsuits.

There was nothing wrong with revealing swimwear, in fact you actually quite liked the ones the lady picked for you. However, Vincent was right outside and would see you in one of these. Would it be too much for him to see you so bare? You are very covered up in your usual attire, so this is a complete 180 and leaves little for the imagination.

You decide to try one on anyway, picking the one-piece swimsuit that is all black and has a long v-line cut. You strip away your clothes, and slip the suit on, adjusting it so everything is even. You go to tie the string in the back, but you can already tell it will be a challenge. You try to tie the knot, but you could feel yourself getting frustrated, grunting in aggravation as the tie keeps going undone.

“Are you okay?” Vincent called from outside, obviously hearing you struggle.

You sigh in defeat, ready for some assistance. “Um, I think I need help tying the string in the back. Can you give me a hand if I come out?”

You hear him hum in agreement, and you open the curtain and quickly turn your back. “Just the one string please.”

He hums again and gets to work, grabbing the two ends and crisscrossing them before pulling tightly. You hear him shuffle closer to you, and once again his breath is on your ear. “Is that tight enough for you?”

You freeze. He said it so quietly that you wonder if you are hallucinating but you know what you heard. He is teasing you again. He is trying to rile you up like he did at the Golden Saucer. Well, two can play at that game.

“Yes, that is good. Please tie it.” You feel him take a step back, and he ties the strings to ensure they stay together.

Once you feel his hands pull away, you turn to him to show off your swimsuit. It hugs you in all the right places, quite comfortably, and it covers you aside from the middle of your body. The v-line shows off your chest, covering your breasts and getting narrower until the point stops down at your belly button. You feel sexy and seeing Vincent’s reaction was the cherry on top.

You watch as his eyes take in your form. You see them wander from your chest to your sternum and it is crazy how much the red of his eyes get smaller as his pupils blow wide. His fingers tremble against his side with slight movement in his arms like he wants to reach out for you, but they stay in place. His control is absolutely astonishing.

“Vincent? Do I look okay?”

His eyes snap away, coughing in the process like he didn’t just eye fuck you. He rubbed his neck, forcing himself to look anywhere but towards you. “Yes, it looks fine.”

You release a smirk, feeling almost powerful seeing this man react the way he had. “Okay, well I am going to try the other ones on.”

You go back inside, and giggle quietly to yourself. It felt good to tease him. With how much he teases you, with how much he riles you up, it is his turn to be on the receiving end of torment. You rip off the one piece, and decide to put on one of the two pieces you were given to try.

The one you decide to put on is a dark red bikini. The top clips on, so you didn’t need assistance this time. You look in the mirror and you notice how much the top pushes out your breasts. The flesh sticks out, making them look so much bigger than they were. You don’t know if Vincent was a boob man or not, but all you can think is you can’t wait to find out.

“Hey Vincent, can you tell me if this looks okay? I’m not sure how I feel about this one.”

You push the curtain open just as he turns to look in your direction, and his look is priceless. You see him take a heeded breath, one hand turning into a fist and the other gripping his side in what appears to be a hard grip. You hold back a smile, not wanting to give hints to your actions, and walk towards him. You are now standing toe to toe with him, looking up at a man who clearly was losing his cool.

“Vincent, are you okay? You don’t look so good.” You coo, placing two fingers against his pulse point under his chin. He lets out a grunt at the contact, and your mind is reeling at how fast his pulse is going.

“Vincent, what are yo-”

“I’m fine.” He grunts, taking your hand away from his neck.

You let it drop, and turn around to the booth. “Just one more and we can go, okay? I’ll be quick.”

You don’t give him another glance as you go back in. You fist pump the air in success as giving him a taste of his own medicine was truly a sight to behold. You are ready to go in for the kill with the last one, which is another bikini. However, this one was black with stretchy black laces that wrap around your stomach. This one felt like a good in between from the other two, but you feel this one will affect him the most. You don’t know why, but something about the intricacies of how it covers your body is simply seducing.

You finish putting it on and you can’t help the excitement you feel. Out of the three, you like the way this one fits you the most. Not only is it comfortable, but it is an absolute confidence booster. It fits your body well and the laces across your waist accentuates it beautifully. Not only was this the swimsuit you would be purchasing, but you are excited to show it off to Vincent for another reaction.

You rip open the curtain, cutting right to the chase, only to see he is no longer where he once stood. You hop out of the booth, looking around for the spiky black hair and red cloak, only to see him nowhere in sight.

“You looking for your boyfriend, babes?”

You turn to see the seller approaching you, the word boyfriend not even registering. You just want to find him.

“Yeah, did you see where he went?”

She nods over to the dock, back where the Tiny Bronco was located. “He went onto the dock. He seemed to be in quite a rush.”

You quickly thank her. You grab your things from the changing booth, and quickly round up the gil for the swimsuit you were wearing. “Thank you, keep the change.”

You run back to the dock and see the Bronco’s door slightly ajar. You push the door open, not wanting to alarm him as you climb on. You see him sitting on the bench in the very back, hands clutching his head and breathing heavy. Alarmed by how he is reacting, you make yourself known and slowly approach where he is sitting.

“Vincent, are you okay?”

He grunts roughly, fingers visibly clutching his head harder. “You need to get off.”

You contemplated your next move. You could listen and get off, let him calm himself down. But then you think what if he can’t calm down? What if his mind spirals from his thoughts? Would you leaving really make things better or worse?

You think back to the time when you first met him, how defeated he looked after he had transformed back. How he had stared you down, taking your breath away at how utterly disheveled and beautiful he looked. He had been alone for so long, and that thought turned your rational mind off. You weren’t going to run. He needed you.

“Vincent, I am not going anywhere.”

His head shoots up, his eyes crimson and face scrunched up like he was holding himself back. He notices your final change of the evening and the growl he lets out is feral. “You,” he snarls, “better not take a single step more.”

You stop again, realization hitting you like a freight train. Did I do this? Did I go too far?

“Did I do something to upset you?” You ask quietly, afraid of what his response was going to be. “If I did, I am so sorry.”

He doesn’t respond, still looking to the ground although his breathing has subsided slightly. You approach him again, this time making it so you were only a foot away.

“You don’t want this.” He mutters.

“What do you mean?”

“I am a monster. The baggage I bring with me, the absolute madness that stirs from within. I don’t know if I can control myself, and that scares me, which means it will scare you.”

You can’t understand what he is saying. “You don’t scare me, Vincent. You could never scare me.”

He grunts out a laugh, like he doesn’t believe a word out of your mouth. “You don’t understand what primal thoughts are going through my mind right now.”

“Well, try me.” You reach out for his face, wanting to touch him, but his right hand grabs your wrist.

“You don’t know what you want, so stop this.”

You feel like you could cry. The whiplash you are receiving after he has gotten under your skin only to rip himself away is too much. How dare he make your blood run hot and then make it go cold in an instant? You rip your arm away, taking a step back. Your gaze falls to the Bronco’s floor, feeling stupid at your attempt to draw him in. Your arms wrap around your body, sequestering it away from his gaze.

“You don’t know what I want, so stop putting words into my mouth.” You choke out. Your fists are clenching on your tummy, anger starting to bubble to the surface. “I know you know how I feel about you because you wouldn’t continue to rile me up the way you do if you didn’t. I wouldn’t react the way I do if I didn’t. Truthfully, I love it. So don’t you dare tell me that I don’t know what I want.”

Everything goes quiet. The only thing that can be heard is the heavy breathing on both of your ends. Your anger disappears and is replaced with disappointment. You don’t know if there is any way to convince him, and you aren’t going to be made a fool in the process.

“I know what I want.” You say softly. “I have desires too.”

It all happens so quickly, your body jolting forward until you are straddling his lap. You gasp, immediately feeling his hard on against your own clothed slit. He’s bigger than I thought, you think, for a man so skinny and sculpted . Two golden claws tilt your chin up, forcing you to be face to face with him. He is much taller than you, so he is slightly over you as he closes in. His breath fans over your lips, eyes erratic and glazed.

You let out a shaky sigh, letting your hands travel up to his face, cupping his cheeks gently as if to let him know what he wants to do is okay. “Do it. Show me you want me too.”

Lips press against yours instantly. It’s intense and intimate with the way he still has a hold on your chin and the way his free arm wraps around your waist to keep you grounded against him. You don’t know if it is the way he has you pressed to him or the way he surrounds your senses, but you feel calm. Even with the aggressive nature of his kisses, it is like he has seeped under your skin, a venomous serum to calm his prey down before he devours. You want more. You need more.

Your hands travel up past his temples to the back of his head, curling your fingers around his black locks. You pull delicately, not knowing how keen he was on pain, only to hear the most delicious whine leave his mouth into yours. You take the opportunity to let your tongue touch his, already becoming addicted to the way he tastes. His grip got tighter on you, trying to pull you in closer even if it wasn’t possible. There was an urgency in his actions as if what you two were doing was too much yet not enough.

His erection was starting to react more and more against you. You could feel yourself growing restless with the need for some sort of contact. You work to shift your knees slightly, spreading them out more across the bench, and start to grind against the shape of his length.

A growl from the deepest part of his throat rips out into the open. The claws of his gauntlet let go of your chin and latch to your hip. You stop your movements, thinking he was going to stop you, but he does no such thing. He pushes you down further onto his crotch, moving you himself to urge you to keep going. You follow his movements, letting him guide you back and forth on his cock. All you can think about is how large he is, and how good he feels against your pussy. However, it still isn’t enough.

You move a hand down to your bottoms, sliding the part covering your heat to the side to get more friction. You can’t help the moan that leaves you the second your clit rubs against the leather of his pants, the roughness different from that of the silk. You move your hips faster, not skipping a beat as to chase a release.

“That’s it,” Vincent growls against your lips. “Just like that.”

His encouragement sends dopamine right to your brain, giving your hips a mind of their own as you continue to rut against him. Your hips start to tire, becoming noticeable as your knees give out slightly before you readjust. Your mind begs you to keep going, begging to keep your pace so you can reach any type of peak.

Your knees collapse again, and next thing you know your knees are no longer on the bench but spread far apart by Vincent’s thighs. His garbed hands are on your ass to keep you right where he wants you, and with the motion of his own hips he is rocking up into you slowly with firm pressure. You release his lips, your head resting on his shoulder as he grinds up into your cunt.

“Fuck, Vincent,” you drawl out, gripping his hair tighter with the hand still there, your other hand finding purchase on his shoulder.

Vincent was having none of that, his right hand shoots to your head to pull it back to face him. What you see invigorates you, as Vincent’s eyes no longer had a red presense. They were the color of the light of day before dusk. The whites of his eyes were illuminated, and his canines had elongated drastically.

“Is this what you wanted?” Vincent hisses. “Do you still want this?”

The self-pity in his eyes was becoming, and you weren’t having any of that. You were not about to have the man, who is making you go crazy by just nuzzling his long cock into your nethers, get distressed by disillusions. Your left hand drops from his head, dipping down where both of your crotches meet. The tips of your fingers dip into your dripping cunt, the evidence clear as day on his leathers. But if you must show extra proof, you will.

You stuff two of your fingers into your hole, still making eye contact with his yellow orbs as you let your face contort. Your fingers come out covered in your sticky fluid, translucent webbing formed in between your fingers. You bring it between your faces, your eyes bold and lips curling devilishly. “Does this answer your question?”

You don’t know what possessed you, but you let those fingers touch his lips. You pull his lower lip down, seeing if he would let his tongue travel out for a taste. You hum approvingly when he lets the tip give a small lick, and moan all together when he starts to lick them clean. Seeing Vincent obey such a small, unspoken command was the sexiest thing you have witnessed to date, and it makes you want to push him even more.

You pull your fingers away, causing him to follow them to continue getting his fill. “Look at you,” you purr. “Like a kitten begging for milk.”

“You are one to talk.” He grumbles, thrusting his hips up so it rubs right against your clit. “You’re the one rubbing your bare cunt against me.”

A high-pitched moan wrangles from your throat as he bounced you up and down, followed by a sex drunken laugh. “Why don’t we change that?”

You push his chest so he is leaning way back on the bench, allowing you to steady yourself as you unbuckle his belts. As soon as you open his fly, his bulge pushes outward and you can hear the sigh of relief leave his lungs. Your hands dip into his underwear, pulling the elastic down to release his cock fully. His cock springs up, precum drooling from his swollen head. Your hand wraps around the tip, squeezing to see another pearl form. Your thumb sweeps over it, gathering as much as you can, before bringing it up to your mouth with the need to taste him.

If Vincent’s eyes could glow brighter, they would have blinded you with the way he was watching you. You let your thumb pop out of your mouth, letting some spit travel down your hand before rubbing it over his cock. You readjust once more, angling your hips so your clit would connect with his tip with each roll, and sit right back onto his lap. You both cry out in unison, both of you sensitive and in dire need of release. You crash your lips against his as you roll your hips in a slow, yet firm rhythm. Your hands grip at his hair, loving the way he ruts into you when you pull on it. You don’t hold back, too far gone to tease the daylights out of him, moaning into his mouth every time the head of his cock kisses your bud.

Vincent wasn’t faring any better, his volume only increasing at the friction. He releases your lips, his head falling onto your shoulder with a long groan. You feel tiny prickles against your skin, his fangs grazing it as he kisses and sucks on your flesh. His hands go over the strings of your swimsuit, gripping the skin of your waist to pull you closer.

His mouth proceeds up your shoulder to your jaw, nipping your pulse point before licking it. The difference between the movement of his hips and his lips is drastic. His lips move slowly, caressing the skin after every love bite he gives you like you are delicate, while his hips buck into you with conviction. It is like he doesn’t know whether he wants to cherish you, or prove to you how much of a monster he can be.

Both of your essences are mixing as you continue, creating easier movement and a more heavenly feeling. You can feel yourself getting close to your release, hips flying back and forth trying to grasp onto it. It isn’t until your hips give out, a frustrated whine leaving you as the peak downtrails.

“Don’t you dare give up on me.” Vincent orders into your ear.

“Fuck, I can’t,” you sob, the ache in your hips and knees showing as you start to slow down.

You don’t fully comprehend what happens next, not until you feel the cold metal of the Bronco’s floor on your back. Vincent yanks your bottoms down your legs, exposing all you have to offer to him. He is on you, hunched over you as he thrusts against your fully exposed cunt. You can’t help but shove your head into the crevice of his neck, wailing at how fast he is going. You are surprised he hasn’t accidentally slipped in with how wet you are, the sounds coming from your nethers making that more apparent.

“I am so close, fuck!” You whimper. You are on the cusp. You needed something. Just a little push to put you over. “Please, please, please, Vincent! I need it so bad! I need you!”

You feel his fangs against your shoulder, nipping and licking the same spot over and over again. A warm sensation fills you, not registering it until the piercing pain of his incisors sink into your skin. It hurts so good, the combination of pain and pleasure shooting through your system. It sets the tone for your release, causing you to scream into his shoulder. It is electrifying, ecstasy filling in the gaps as your orgasm rolls in waves. Vincent wasn’t far behind, and something about your blood must have sent him into a frenzy. His hips are going inhumanly quick, and after a few more thrusts he ejects his fangs from your body as he cums.

His moans echoing into your ear has you gripping onto him harder, comforting him as he rides out his high. Fingers stroke the hairs on the back of his neck, hushing him soothingly as his body shakes. It isn’t long after he starts groaning, his grip tightening on your thighs.

“Are you okay?” You ask worried, lifting his head so you can get a good look at him. But what you see stirs something from deep within your chest.

You don’t know if it’s because golden hour has reached its peak, but he looks ethereal. His fangs were no more, but there was blood that has stained his mouth. The beams of golden light reflect off of him, his pale skin shining from the light perspiration on his face. He looks so beautiful in the sun’s rays, like an angel wrapped in light. His eyes slowly open, and a soft gasp leaves your lips. His eyes were no longer illuminating yellow. His eyes, the vibrancy of them, have transformed into the sun. Their usual molten color is bright like the sun's surface. His usual orange rings that surround his pupil are golden, and you can see your reflection in the deep black.

He takes a minute to gather himself before nodding, a sigh passing through his lips before sitting up on his knees. You peer down to your lower half, which is now covered in his seed and your own mess. Vincent’s eyes are glued to your mound, his cum having pooled there from his heavy release. After a moment, he takes his leather glove off his right hand, skin pale and blue from the veins protruding. His fingers dip into his cooled cum, letting it collect on his fingers before pulling his hand away.

“Vincent, what are yo-” you start before you watch him bring his fingers towards your lips. He lets them hover, waiting to see if you would be as keen to sampling him again like he did with you.

A light chuckle leaves your lips. He is just full of surprises.

You sit up on your elbows, your mouth pressing light kisses to his fingers before indulging. Your eyes flutter close, a quiet moan rumbling from your chest as take in his taste for a second time. He tastes neutral, nothing too bitter or too musky. It tastes exactly as you expected. Because it was him, he tasted absolutely delectable. And you can’t get enough.

“Look at you,” Vincent mimics your tone from earlier, smirking in the process. “Like a kitten begging for milk.”

His fingers leave your mouth, making you chase after them until he kisses you suddenly. The iron attacks your senses pleasantly, and his humming tells you that his seed is having the same effect on him. You both stay there for a while, just kissing in each other’s mess, and before you know it the sky has turned into its orange hue before the nightfall.

You decide to pull away first, bringing your hands to his face to soothe the sweat dried skin. “I don’t want this to end, but we should get going. The others may be wondering where we wandered off to.”

He hums slowly, like he was debating whether he cared or not, but ultimately decided to sit fully up. He puts his cock back into his leathers, getting himself situated before he helps you stand up properly. Your body doesn’t feel real from how drained your muscles are, and you think he can tell by the way he guides your hands to his shoulders. He brings your bottoms over to your legs, and urges you to put your feet through the openings. Using his shoulders as leverage, you do as he silently instructs and he pulls them up until you are covered. You look down and see the cum has dried on your skin, and the thought of anyone possibly seeing it makes your cheeks burn, knowing you’d never live it down.

“Do you think anyone will notice?”

Instantly, like he was already planning to do this, he undid the buckles of his cape and wrapped it around your shoulders. With him being such a broad and tall man, his cape covered you very well and hid the evidence of your coupling.

“It gets cool during nightfall. It won’t be suspicious.”

“But what about your pants? There is cum on them too.”

“Truthfully, I don’t care.”

You pull the cape closer to you, inhaling and exhaling his scent, filling your brain with a sense of safety. Vincent believed he wasn’t deserving of you, that he was a danger to you and others. But when you feel such a sense of security with him, how can he not see that you need him?

He finishes putting his glove back on, flexing his fingers before he goes to open the door of the Bronco. Your brain reacts first, hand grabbing his arm before he could expose you both to the outside world. You needed to know something. You needed to know if he still feels how he felt earlier.

“Vincent, can I ask you something?”

He turns to you, curiosity peaking. He places his golden fingers over the hand gripping his arm, signaling for you to ask your question.

“You don’t regret what just happened, do you? I’m not going to wake up like it was yesterday, am I?”

There is silence, and you mentally hit yourself for the lack of confidence, your voice having dropped to a whisper. Your head drops again, worried about what was about to not be said, before you feel a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“There is nothing to regret,” he murmurs. “Especially when it comes to you.”

You lift your head up, eyes meeting his, before letting a smile form on your face. His facial features match your own, and he brings you in for a sweet kiss before you two return to the others. You don’t think about them though, because all you can think is that he let you in.

He willingly let you in.

#vincent valentine x reader #vincent valentine #vincent fic #vincent smut #ff7 rebirth #final fantasy vii #ff7 x reader #my fics

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dark-and-kawaii · 5 months ago

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⋆˙⟡ Enamored ⟡˙⋆

*ੈ Summary: You find yourself awakening next to a familiar Devil, and he has one last contact to offer you.

ੈ Pairing: Raphael x F!Tav/Reader

ੈ Content: Slight NSFW - Fingering - Possessive Raphael - Tender Moment

ੈ Notes: I was inspired to write for Raphael thanks to my dear @octarinecat ♡ ♡ ♡ so here’s a little something something for her!!! And all your other lovely Raphael lovers!!!!

Awakening from your slumber, you slowly stir, your eyes meeting with a much larger body next to you. He looked so at peace while he slept, his mouth partially opened, his hair no longer nice and neat, his usual lines smooth and flat as opposed to the deep ones he wore on his face during the day. Raphael’s face was so close to your own, you could feel his warm breath against your skin. As the memories of last night came back to you, a small smile grew on your lips, your inner thighs twinging with a slight ache from the strenuous activity they went through hours ago…

The first time, the second time, the third... You and your devil- your lover, had tangled your bodies together countless times, your fingers digging into his red satin sheets as your bodies joined in blissful passion and adoration for one another. You had thought he’d be reckless, careless, selfish even…

But you were so very wrong. The way Raphael moved against you, inside you, was the complete opposite of how you had imagined it. His thrusts were so strong, yet so gentle. As if afraid to break you- his little mouse, his newest treasure. His kisses were sloppy, yet so sweet and soft, filled with passion and desire that only you could quench. It was almost like he was trying to make up for lost time… And perhaps, he was. Perhaps this was the first time he had felt true affection from someone else. Your hand a tender touch against his red devilish skin.

Or maybe this was your reward for handing him the crown of Karsus. Maybe, this was what he meant when he said he would grant you a gift. Either way, you did not mind. This was the happiest you had ever felt in such a long time.

Moving slightly closer to him, you lean in next to Raphael, your bare skin grazing his much warmer body.

Raphael, a creature that tournaments and uses others as his pawn, ensnaring souls with his fancy words and contracts. A creature that could care less about the well-being of others, or their emotions. Yet, he showed you nothing but kindness, his words always speaking the truth, his actions always speaking louder than his voice he seemed to love so much. He was a puzzle, one that you wished to solve, piece by piece.

Your fingers trace over Raphael’s features while he continues to slumber, your eyes softening when you watch his arm swing around your waist to hold you. His head nestling into you and you can’t help but to hold his head gently as you caress the crown of horns atop his head.

You were no fool, you knew he was a creature of sin and chaos. But somehow, he managed to draw you in-

“Has my little mouse found herself enamored with a devil?”

Raphael suddenly spoke, a grin spreading across his lips, his eyes still closed.

Your eyes widen as he pulls you closer, your face now flushed a deep red, much like the hue of his skin. You could feel how his tail coiled around your ankle, the tip of it tickling your skin.

You try to form a coherent sentence, but your words caught in your throat not knowing if you should say yes or no.

Raphael chuckled at your silence, his eyes finally opening to look at you.

He was breathtaking.

His eyes, his skin, his voice- his everything was beautiful.

As if reading your mind, Raphael hums, his clawed fingers tracing down your body, making you shiver in delight.

Yes.

You were indeed enamored with him, and he knew.

Raphael’s grin never faltered, leaning forward he placed a scorching kiss upon your lips, his claws slipping from your back to tug the bed sheets that covered your bare form.

And as the sheets fell, his mouth trailed down the valley between your breasts.

And soon enough, his fingers found themselves inside you, curling and massaging your plush walls, his nails slightly scraping against you but not enough to cause harm. The way he pumps his fingers within you bringing you to a state of ecstasy that makes your toes curl.

“Such a sweet little mouse~ Shall I reword her once more?”

His voice was a purr, his mouth hot against your skin.

“Or perhaps... shall I make her mine, forevermore...”

Slowly, he dragged his fingers out from inside you, your slickness covering his thick digits. Gliding his fingers up to his face -his fiendish eyes never leaving yours- he brings them to his lips, his tongue curling around each digit licking them clean before snapping them in the air.

A contract appeared.

A binding contract. One that would allow you to live out the rest of your life with him.

“Do not be mistaken, dear mouse, for once the contract is signed, you shall belong solely to me. You will not wander astray, for your soul shall be bound to mine. No other shall lay a hand upon you nor claim you as their own.”

You could hear the hunger in his voice, his eyes darkening with lust, with greed. You truly would only belong to him. Your soul his to do as he pleases.

Yet, you were not afraid. No, you welcomed him, welcomed the word he had spoken.

Your hands cupped Raphael's face, your body leaning up to place a loving kiss upon his lips, “I do not wish for anyone else... Besides, what’s better than a devil you don’t know?”

Raphael smirks, his hand brushing away the strands of hair from your face, his forehead resting against yours, “A devil you do.”

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #bg3 smut

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jeonggukookies · 8 months ago

Text

crown's kingdom || two

summary: now engaged to prince jungkook, you both must figure a way to make this alliance work while your enemies try to tear it apart.

– genre: royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au, prince!jungkook, queen!reader, arranged marriage - fluff/angst

– word count 4637

– warnings: please read note if you haven't read changes

index || one

“Look what we have here.” Despite your eyes being completely shut, you knew who took a seat next to you on the bench by recognizing his voice. “I want to say what a beautiful dress you have on there, but I’m afraid I have to tell you the truth. Your morning dress looks like a tablecloth for afternoon lunch.”

To start off your mornings, you woke up before the sun, craving to have at least an hour alone in the chapel, free from anyone to interrupt your morning meditation and prayers. It was one of the few times when you were alone, not surrounded by any servants or guards. You were able to find solace—until Jungkook came.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of having your presence near me at this time?” You asked politely, still with your eyes closed and your hands pressed together, fingers pointed upwards, deep in prayer.

For the last week, you and Jungkook had been doing an excellent job avoiding each other despite the public announcement of the engagement. You always tried to make your schedule as busy as it could be, not wanting to spend a second alone with him. You filled your time up with more violin lessons and analyzing war strategies and patterns from your father’s old journal. Eventually, you were going to have to interact with Jungkook and fool everyone that the two of you were in love, but you didn’t expect him to find out about your schedule, taking the time to wake up early to come find you in the prayer room.

“Perhaps the dress would be better as a tablecloth,” he suggested, pulling at the puffy sleeves, attempting to get a rise out of you. “And perhaps, you on that particular table.”

“To the Divine Spirit, please forgive me for all I have sinned and will sin.” Opening your eyes, you smacked Jungkook’s arm, annoyed by his antics. With a smirk on his face, he’s chuckling, satisfied to get a reaction out of you.

“It’s almost six in the morning, and you really want to start off the day by pissing me off?” You gritted through your teeth, trying not to raise your voice. “Can you be a pain in the ass somewhere else? And not in this sacred space? A place where I find peace?”

“I quite believe this is the perfect time and place to do it,” he remarked, trying to hide the mischievous smile on his face. “You have to get used to it if we are to be wed soon.”

“Do not remind me of this terrible tragedy.” You groaned. “May we pray that the fates decree our union not come to pass."

He rolled his eyes, annoyed with your response. “Why do you act like a grandma? No one our age speaks like that or wakes up this early to pray! Just say, ‘God, I hope we don’t marry.’”

“Are the words too big for you to understand?” You pushed your lower lip out, pretending to feel bad for him. “Is that why you were engaged to Comet? The girl whose named after her own country but can’t spell her name without help from her tutors? You know stupid plus stupid doesn’t cancel each other out, right?”

“And you know praying every day isn’t going to erase any of the sins you’ve committed in the past, right?” He mocked. “I’ve been wondering where you’ve been the last couple of days, and now I realize that I shouldn’t have gone through so many people to find out that you wake up so early to pray. I should have remembered you were so boring.”

You scoffed. “Wow, you must be really thinking about me all the time? To be asking others about my schedule? To be wondering where I am at? You must not have a life, huh?”

“Alright, it’s already been one week, and I’ve had enough. I don’t think I can handle you for the rest of my life.”

“Then do something about it,” you snapped.

“You don’t think I haven’t?” He snapped back, looking at you with the same amount of anger in his eyes. “What do you think I was trying to do for the last week? While you were hiding away in your room, I was trying to secretly change this alliance. Maybe with your help, I can easily break off the engagement and toss you like a pebble in the lake.”

For a moment, you were offended that you were disposable to him, making it seem like you desperately needed him and his country more than he needed you.

You can play this game too, you thought to yourself.

With your index finger, you gestured for him to come closer to you, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “And if you shall give up the position of ruling two countries, maybe even three one day, would the current King of Aurum be happy with that? Could he let you live in peace if you were to ruin the alliance without his permission?”

Jungkook learned his lesson for the day and finally shut his mouth, letting the devotion area be peaceful for the rest of the morning. He put his hands together, silently mouthing along to some basic scriptures.

“Amen,” you whispered, putting your hands together, ready to medicate and pray next to Jungkook.

_________

Dasher, the new Prince of Cometes, could have gone to command his new military forces, started imposing taxes, or simply have done absolutely nothing as his first task as a royal. Instead, he decided the first thing to do was to go to Aurum to renegotiate their alliance as their circumstances had now changed.

After eating breakfast, you were asked to accompany Jungkook to greet the new prince. His parents thought it was a perfect opportunity to showcase the new alliance between the two countries.

“I’m glad you changed out of that old curtain you had earlier,” Jungkook said when you arrived next to his side. The two of you were outside the palace, waiting for the Cometes’s carriage. “You would have made it seem like I downgraded.”

“Well, I sure did.” You forced a smile, looking straight ahead where the horses were coming at a steady pace a few meters away from you. “Don’t understand why I have to be here like I’m you’re fucking babysitter.”

“Here he comes.” You turned your head to look at Jungkook, and you find him already staring back at you. He was holding his breath, having a tense look on his face. It had been a while since you’ve seen Jungkook look this apprehensive. “Can you do this?”

When the two of you were learning all the types of ballroom dances, Jungkook’s face was always pale before he had to perform and get evaluated by our instructor. You knew it wasn’t because he was ten years old, dancing with a girl; he was a perfectionist, afraid to take the wrong step and embarrass himself in front of everyone.

As he had gotten older, he had done a better job at hiding his anxiety, trying to look like the Golden Prince everyone saw him to be. He’s been doing such a great job, that even you forgot he had the capability to be nervous. He wasn’t just a snarky and egomaniacal prince; Jungkook, too, was a human with fears and imperfections.

“Absolutely.” Without giving you any context, you knew what he was asking. He needed your reassurance—that the two of you could convince the future King of Cometes, that your shared hatred will be hidden by the love of your countries. “Don’t be afraid.”

Before the horses came to a complete stop, Jungkook straightened his posture, taking a deep breath. No longer looking nervous, he looked like he was ready to stand his ground, determined to become one of the best kings.

Stepping out of the carriage, a silver-haired man as tall as Jungkook appeared. The man was wearing a close-fitting gray velvet doublet, embellished with white pearls along the seams. With a black linen shirt underneath, the pearls were able to stand out more, showing everyone his new power.

“Prince Jungkook,” the man greeted. “Well isn't it quite lovely to see you again?”

“And now as equals this time, Prince Dasher,” Jungkook slyly commented. “I hope the ride here wasn’t too terrible with all the rain and mud this season.”

“Not at all.” The man turned his focus on you, looking up and down, trying to analyze who you were to stand so close to the Prince of Aurum. “You must be Queen of Caelestia.”

“Please address me as Y/N,” you said politely. “It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Dasher.”

“As to you, Your Grace.” He took a bow, showing his respects. “The rumors must be true then,” he said. “The two of you are going to wed.”

“Unless you’re here to propose to me, then plans can always be altered and rearranged,” Jungkook joked lightly, trying to ease the mood. You bit your lower lip to hold yourself back from laughing at his attempt. The joke itself wasn’t that funny, but the fact that Jungkook thought it was appropriate to say.

“I can assure you that I will not bore you with a proposal of mine.” Dasher took another look at you and Jungkook. He was trying to read the two of you. “And is your bride joining us for our negotiation?”

“She will not,” Jungkook answered right away, not giving you a second to react. There was some hostility in his voice. “Do you request her presence at our meeting between our two countries?”

“Just interesting that the future queen of Aurum will not be there.” Dasher raised his eyebrows. “Unless…”

“Well, we haven’t even decided on invitations! But I promise you that you’ll be one of the first to receive them.” You paused to look at Jungkook, linking your arm to his. “Isn’t that right, Darling?”

He stared back at your eyes, deeply as if he were trying to your deepest, darkest secrets. Letting a small scoff, he smiled and looked back at Dasher. “Well, now that we got introductions out of the way, why don’t we head towards the affairs room to discuss the future of our people?”

________

With the arrival of Prince Dasher, you were expected to attend the evening activities. Typically, the evening activities were full of entertainment like live music, dancing, theater, and more. They were loud and socially draining at times, but you loved going, seeing it as an opportunity to enrich life and cultivate an appreciation for arts and culture.

When walking into the courtiers’ hall, you can tell the King and Queen of Aurum went the extra mile in making tonight’s activities more lavish than usual, catering to their guests. You noticed how there were more servants around, refilling drinks and replacing empty food trays as quickly as they could. They were even using the fancy china that the Queen rarely used, wanting to keep it in mint condition. There were more musicians hired as well. With more musicians, they were able to proudly and loudly play traditional Cometes music, hoping to make the Cometes people feel at home.

There were more people today, all participating in the elegant court dances, and board games and many were socializing, especially the women, probably hoping to find a suitor among the new guests.

“Queen Y/N.” You turned your head to see Kim Taehyung, a Luxuria ambassador who resided in Aurum Court. “It’s a blessing to see you entertained by tonight’s festivities.”

“Well, that can’t be right.” You took a few steps to be face-to-face with him. “Aren’t you always praying for my downfall?”

For the last two years, Kim Taehyung has been a cunning diplomat. On paper, his presence at court might be to handle situations between his country and Aurum, but really, his true mission was to antagonize you at court. Despite his constant terrorizing, you’ve kept your eye on him, following the rule: Keep your friends close and keep your enemies closer.

He chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t seen you around court to give you my congratulations on your engagement to Jungkook.”

“Thank you, Taehyung.” You forced a smile, and he smiled back.

“And how has this engagement been so far?”

“Quite amazing,” you lied. “Thank you for asking.”

“Is that why everyone is talking about Jungkook and your reluctance to marry each other?” He asked. “You know, Luxuria intelligence predicted this happening years ago. That somehow you would find a way to marry the next King of Aurum. That somehow the alliance between Aurum and Cometes would fall through.”

“If you want to take your anger or frustration out on someone for the sudden change, Prince Dasher is present at court today as well.” You pointed in the direction where Dasher was. “Shall I introduce the two of you and be on my way?”

He took a step closer, trying to intimidate you. “How about instead you go on your way back to Caelestia and abandon this alliance with Aurum?”

“Is that a threat?” You asked, raising your eyebrows and letting out a humorless laugh. “Are you seriously threatening me?”

“Not a threat,” he insisted. “Consider this as….a chance to save your country and people.”

The smile disappeared from your face. You gritted through your teeth, “To save my country and my people, I need to take the chance and marry Jungkook for his armies against YOUR people!”

“Then take the first step and go back home,” he suggested.

“And then how long would Luxuria come after my throne?”

He refused to answer your question, changing the subject immediately. “Do not beg for mercy when I have given you the chance to correct yourself.”

“And have you and your queen considered that mercy doesn’t need to be begged if Luxuria would stop sending its forces to my border?”

He looked around, seeing if anyone was watching your interaction with him. He then smiled. “You may have been safe and across the sea all this time, but do not forget, Queen Y/N, even monarchs cannot escape death.”

For a moment, you froze in place, feeling the anger grow inside your body. From a young age, you were taught that monarchs cannot show their emotions, and they shouldn’t especially show it to their enemies.

Before you could react, Jungkook appeared by your side, putting his arm around you, hand on your shoulder. “Darling! Did you see that the servants made pavlova? We have to go get some before it all runs out, especially since these fruits aren’t even in season!”

“Excuse us,” you mumbled under your breath, directed to Taehyung.

Moving his arm, Jungkook then had his hand gently wrapped around your right wrist, pulling you into a private corner away from all the guests. As your back leaned against the wall, Jungkook let go of your wrist and stood directly in front of you, so you were face to face.

“Don’t push me away,” he said in a low voice. “Are you okay?”

“He-he.” Out of nowhere, you started heavily breathing as if there was a limited amount of air in the room. You were unable to finish your thoughts, interrupted by every scenario going through your head. Tears were about to flood your eyes, ready to leave wet trails on your face.

“Look at me,” Jungkook instructed, cupping your face with his hands, his eyes directly piercing into your soul once again. “Repeat after me. You are a queen.”

“Threat-threatened my-“ Jungkook cut you off.

“I am a queen,” he emphasized, repeating himself slowly this time. “Say it with me. I am a queen.”

“I am a queen,” you repeated, trying to believe the truth in those words. A couple more times, you repeated in a hushed tone, “I am a queen.”

“Don’t let anyone see that you’re afraid,” he said after it seemed like you were finally calming down. “Let me be the only person to see you shaking like a small useless chihuahua.”

“Are you calling me—“ He cut you off again, not letting you finish his sentence.

“I know you’re not useless.” His hands held your face a little tighter, still refusing to break eye contact with you. “You’re a queen. You will be remembered as the benevolent queen of three countries one day. And while all of everyone’s great great great grandchildren are learning about you in history books, no one will remember his name. Don’t let him get to you now and let him become a footnote in the future.”

Nodding, a tear slipped, and you quickly felt Jungkook wiping the tear with his thumb, not letting anyone else see a Queen in a vulnerable state. Your breathing was almost back to normal, feeling some comfort from his words.

“Can you do this?” He asked, repeating his question from earlier.

Despite growing up together all these years, you and Jungkook had never been this up close and personal. Even when paired up for ballroom dancing, the two of you danced awkwardly together, barely touching his fingertips. It felt unreal that you and Jungkook were now alone, staring at each other, ignoring the rest of the world around you. “Yes.”

Jungkook stared at you for another two seconds before he realized the position the two of you were in. His grip became stiff and rigid for a moment before he finally removed his hands from your face and cleared his throat, pretending as if he wasn’t trying to protect you in his arms.

“Thanks.” You coughed awkwardly, still standing in front of him. The two of you never shared an intense moment like that before, a moment filled with insecurity, vulnerability, and comfort.

Jungkook sighed and looked back at you. Without any verbal confirmation, you knew that he silently agreed that everything would go back to normal, that the two of you would go back to pushing each other’s buttons. “I should get going.”

Before you could say anything, Jungkook started to walk away. He was probably already erasing the moment out of his head.

You had to remind yourself that the two of you will wed for your countries, that it won’t be for true love or happily ever after. It'll be a marriage full of moments like these that will mean nothing to him. And you hoped they would mean nothing to you.

__________

By the next morning, Luxuria went through with their warning and sent their troops to your border, threatening your people.

“Once we received word this morning from your mother, we sent supplies to your troops.” You had barged into the room of affairs, surprising Jungkook and the Queen by your sudden appearance. “They will be there as soon as they can. We sent our fastest rider.”

The King didn’t take his eyes off the document he was reading. It seemed like the King had expected you to come in urgently while the Queen, sitting next to him, was visibly annoyed with your sudden intrusion. Jungkook, standing to the side of the room, looked baffled, unsure if he should laugh at your courage or be displeased.

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head. “These supplies will go a long way, but supplies aren’t the only thing we need.”

“Let me guess..You want soldiers?” The King asked, still not looking at you. “I am afraid that I cannot give you men, but you have my deepest sympathy.”

“I am asking for more than sympathy. I need men, or else these supplies are useless.”

“The men that you need are the same men that we cannot give you.” He finally looked up and shrugged his shoulders.

“As Queen, I have the responsibility to find solutions, and that was through our alliance with your country, which you are not honoring.”

“Keep in mind that you are not the only one with a country to think about,” the King replied. “I am putting my country and its people first.”

“I will not forget this when I am both Queen of Caelestia and Aurum,” you challenged. “I will always put my country first. Do not hold me hostage and fulfill this alliance, or let me go.”

“The two of you need to learn this.” The King paused to point at you and Jungkook. “You are royals. You DO NOT have the luxury of doing what you want. You do what is best for your country. Perhaps, the two of you should stop wasting time. Instead of trying to think of ways to get out of your marriage, start taking action.”

“Father, I think we should help.” You took a quick look at Jungkook, surprised by his answer. “If Caelestia loses, that’ll only make Luxuria a bigger threat to our country.”

“Get out. The two of you, out now,” the King firmly demanded.

The sound of the doors slamming behind you echoed throughout the whole castle. You took a deep breath and started walking to your chambers until Jungkook caught up, walking next to you.

“Hey, I think you’re right. I am on your side.”

“You are?” You were taken back from his statement, not expecting him to be on your side for politics. “Why?”

“Because after your country, mine will be next,” Jungkook explained. “By working together, we can slowly defeat the Luxurian military. I just need some time to convince my father.”

Caught up in a moment of joy, you wrapped your arms around Jungkook, pulling him into a tight hug. Your happiness must have overcome the supposed feelings of animosity you had towards him. “Thank you!”

Jungkook hesitantly and slowly embraced you back.

__________

“This must be the day pigs are going to grow wings and fly,” Lady Adoree exaggerated.

Ladies-in-waiting were the Queen’s female companions, typically wealthy noblewomen. They accompanied you, staying by your side for most events. Not only were they your attendants, but they were also your closest friends. And you were the closest to Lady Adoree.

“Trust me, you’re not the only one who’s surprised by all of this,” you mumbled under your breath.

“I’ve been gone for seven days, and somehow, you and Jungkook are engaged to each other.” She had traveled to Aureus, the capital of Aurum, for the last week to meet with her a suitor, which did not end up well. “Then, he’s willingly trying to help you as if he didn’t try to sabotage this alliance or even your whole life here.”

“Excuse me, Lady Adoree.” The two of you were still at the dining table after finishing lunch, catching up. You looked up and saw Prince Dasher waiting behind Lady Adoree’s chair. “Can I please have a moment with your queen?”

“Prince Dasher,” you greeted as Lady Adoree stood up from her chair, allowing Dasher to take her seat. “I thought you were on your way home.”

“Well, it turns out we still have more negotiations with Aurum to discuss, which is delaying our departure,” he said. “It is not a total disaster as I am blessed to spend another second with a beautiful queen.”

“Are these sweet words repeated to every other queen?” You quipped.

“Just you,” he claimed. “No one else can hear those words from me.”

In the corner of your eye, you could see a vein popping out of Lady Adoree’s forehead. She was frowning, not happy that she had given up her seat just for him to be flirty. Lady Adoree hated talking to guys and drove them away just as much as you did.

“I’m not new to this game,” you reminded him. “What is desired from me?”

Prince Dasher leaned into your ear, whispering, “I heard Prince Jungkook cannot give you the help you need for the Luxuria Troops.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to dull up any emotions on your face. “I’m still not hearing what you want from me.”

Instead of verbally answering, Prince Dasher cleared his throat and pushed his chair back, almost hitting Lady Adoree. He then kneeled on his right knee, causing Lady Adoree to gasp loudly.

“What are you doing?!” You growled. “Get up.”

“My desire is you,” he said. “Now I am no longer the King’s Bastard and am finally the legitimate Prince of Cometes. I am here to seek out the best deal and I believe Caelestia is that.”

“To my knowledge, everyone including yourself knows that I am already betrothed!” You looked around, hoping no one else was in the room witnessing this act.

“I can give you the men you need to fight Luxuria,” he promised.

You sighed. “My attention is yours.”

He beamed at your defeat. “Perhaps the dissolution of your alliance with Aurum will help your country, Queen Y/N.”

Your jaw clenched. “And if we were to wed, do you really think Luxuria will just stop?”

“I think you’ve forgotten,” he stressed. “Luxuria and Cometes have been allies for centuries. I hope you consider this offer.”

__________

Jungkook stayed silent.

It was after midnight, and the two of you met in a private room on the other side of the castle, away from everyone else. No one really came to this side of the castle. It was mainly used to have secret meetings, not wanting to be seen by anyone else.

You were pacing around the room, playing with your hands, anxious to hear his thoughts after telling him Prince Dasher’s offer as he sat down on the bench and had his chin resting on his cupped hands together.

“Are you going to say something?” You stopped walking back and forth and came to a stop. “What are you thinking about?”

He sighed before standing back up to face you. “I-I think you should do it.”

“What?” Your heart sank, pain settling in your chest. Despite being the Queen of Caelestia, you viewed Aurum as if it were your home to you. Even though you had no intention of ruling Aurum and this alliance came out of nowhere, you felt a sense of happiness that you could finally give back to the country that gave you everything.

Aurum was a part of you whether you liked it or not, and with Jungkook’s answer, it seemed like Aurum didn’t want you. And that he didn’t want you. There were a bunch of conflicting emotions going through your mind, but you pushed them away, needing to think about your country. “Are you serious?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Think about it, Y/N. How could you pass this up?”

“What happened to being on my side?!” You exclaimed. “And you’re just going to let it go? Just like that.”

“I don’t want to,” he admitted, quickly taking your hands and holding them. “But there’s nothing I can do to change my father’s mind…to help your country. I’ve tried and tried. We are just in this alliance, and you are getting nothing..”

“You don’t want to marry me,” you said bitterly, letting go of his hold. “That’s the real reason, isn’t it?”.

“It’s not that,” Jungkook denied. There was a sense of desperation in his voice. “Believe me, I know I’ve been trying to get out of this alliance. But I’m not telling you to do it because of that. I’m telling you to do this, because this is what is best for your country.”

“Is that really it?”

“You’ve been Queen your whole life. You should have known that alliances can easily shift,” Jungkook quickly snapped, changing his demeanor suddenly. “Your country gets the help it needs, and my country will not be ruled by an Ice Queen.”

And Jungkook walked away like it was the easiest thing in the world to do.

#bts fanfic #bangtanwriters-net #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #crown kingdom #royalty au #jungkook royalty #enemies to lovers #jungkook angst #mine #jungkook x reader

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fawnandshadows · 7 months ago

Text

Guilty as Sin?

For @elriel-month and the "New Beginnings" prompt

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 7.4k

AO3

“Have you met your new neighbor yet?” Cassian’s staticky voice crackled in Azriel’s ear, his phone held in place by his shoulder and ear as he furiously searched his apartment for his keys.

“Not yet, just saw the back of her head once when she was closing her door.” Azriel said as he toppled the couch cushions and ran his fingers through the deep crevice on the side. “Where the fuck are my keys?” He muttered, his fingers trailing over long forgotten crumbs that had slid down the side of the cushion. “Were you eating Doritos last time you were here?”

“Uh,” Cassian’s voice caught in his throat. “What happens if I say yes?”

Azriel rolled his eyes and said, “Nothing other than supergluing a trash bag to you as a bib next time you’re over.”

“Wasn’t me, man. Must’ve been Rhysie.” Cassian brushed him off.

Azriel barely mustered a “hmmmm” in acknowledgment as he lowered himself to the ground to check underneath the couch, hoping to see the metallic glint of his keys and only seeing dust bunnies.

“Anyway,” Cassian said in his ear, cutting out for a second before coming back in full volume. Since he had perpetual shitty service, Cassian felt the need to make up for it with shouting. “Your hot new neighbor, do you think you could give her my phone number? She was definitely making eyes at me last time I was there.”

“Was she?” Azriel asked, barely paying attention as he hunted for his keys. He pushed himself off of the floor, his gaze scanning the open space. Where the hell had he put them? He came home dead tired from a shift last night and he remembered fumbling with them out in the hall — there had been a crash from his neighbors apartment that had distracted him, his head already pounding from the drinks he had with Cassian, and he remembered the sound of his keys hitting the ground — did he leave his keys in the hall?

“Are you listening to me?” Cassian asked, his voice sounding far away as Azriel headed towards his door, his duffle bag already there and waiting for him.

“Of course,” Azriel said, opening the door and spotting his keys in a lump on the floor. “You want me to set you up with my hot neighbor.” He bent down, his fingers looping around his keys as he heard a high-pitched “Oh!” from across the hall.

Azriel’s entire body stilled as he turned his head and saw the most beautiful wide brown eyes and flushed pink cheeks.

He blinked at her. No wonder Cassian wanted him to give her his number. Fat-fucking-chance.

“Hellloo?” Cassian asked in his ear like he was trying to wave his head in front of Azriel’s face.

Azriel just hung up on him.

“Sorry about that,” Azriel said, coming to his full height and shoving his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. “I – My friend – He saw you the other day and, um, he has a crush.”

Those brown eyes blinked at him and kicking himself seemed like too kind a punishment.

He was two seconds away from blurting out “I can’t blame him” just to end the agony of silence, but his new neighbor must have had a merciful soul because she beat him to it.

“I just wanted to introduce myself,” She said in the sweetest voice Azriel had ever heard and it wasn’t until then that he noticed she was holding out a pie. “Since I’ve been making so much racket I wanted to apologize.”

“Don’t apologize,” Azriel said, his hand surprisingly steady as he reached for her peace-offering. “I’m not home enough to be bothered by it.”

“Oh.” She said, looking down at her feet, her golden brown hair sweeping down around her.

“I just mean that there’s nothing to apologize for,” Azriel rushed out, her eyes peering up at him and his heart started fucking racing. “I work down at the local fire station, so I’m used to chaos.”

She bit her lip, her eyes dropping down to his muscled arms for a moment as she asked, “You’re a firefighter?”

“Yeah,” Azriel said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Azriel.”

“Elain,” She replied with a soft smile and placed her small hand in his. “It’s nice to meet you,” Azriel never wanted to let go. Her eyes flicked to the duffle bag on the floor behind him. “I don’t want to keep you.” She started to pull her hand away.

“No worries,” Azriel said quickly. “I was just going to meet up with some friends at the gym. Do you want to come in?” Azriel nodded to his apartment behind him. “I make espresso that goes great with pie.”

Elain took her hand back.

“Thank you for the offer,” Elain said with a small smile, taking a step back and reaching for the door knob to her apartment. Azriel felt his body screaming in response as she moved farther away from him. His eyes taking in the purple sundress she was wearing. “But my boyfriend is coming over soon.”

Azriel’s body steeled at the words. Boyfriend?

“Boyfriend?” Azriel asked out loud and Elain nodded her head.

“He’s coming over to see my new place.”

“He didn’t help you with the move?” Azriel already hated him. For probably more reasons that he didn’t want to think about, but what loser didn’t help his girlfriend with a move? Did she move in all by herself? Now that he thought about it, other than a few people from a moving company he didn’t see anyone else moving her in.

She shook her head.

“He was busy.” Elain said simply and Azriel hoped he kept his glower off of his face.

“Well, if you need any help you can always knock on my door.” Azriel offered, forcing a smile and he was delighted when she gave him one in return.

“Thank you,” Elain said, opening her door, and almost shutting it before she poked her head out. “And I love espresso.”

Azriel stood in the hallway, staring at her door and holding the pie and wondering what the hell just happened.

— — — — —

“No, no, no, you don’t understand, he was really pretty.” Elain said to her sister over the phone as she rushed around her apartment.

“How pretty?” Feyre asked, her voice crackling from the poor cell service in Elain’s new building.

“I-forgot-about-Graysen-pretty.” Elain said, adjusting the bouquet of spring flowers on her coffee table. Residual guilt gnawing at her bones. Her boyfriend of two years. She forgot about her boyfriend of two years because of a pretty face. And muscles.

Something clattered on over the phone and Elain knew that her sister dropped a paint brush.

“Oh my God.” Feyre said, stunned.

“I know!” Elain cried, repositioning the silverware for the tenth time.

“Can you send me a picture?” Feyre asked.

“Well, I don’t have one, but just imagine the most good looking man you can think of and then like double that. And imagine him as a firefighter.” Elain said and rushed across the apartment to stir her bolognese sauce.

One interaction with Azriel and she was buzzing around her apartment not knowing what to do.

“I need to throw you a housewarming party just to see him.” Feyre said, laughing over the phone.

“This isn’t funny!” Elain pouted, stirring her sauce. “I almost went in for espresso.”

“You hate espresso.” Feyre said, and even though Elain couldn’t see her she knew her sister was smiling.

“I know.” Elain replied with a sinking feeling and stifled a sigh.

She couldn’t be friends with Azriel. He was too pretty. And by all accounts he was nice. She got the sense that he actually would help her if she needed it. That he wasn’t just saying that to be polite.

For some reason she wanted to stomp her foot like a child. She had to practically beg Graysen to see her new place.

“What are you going to do?” Feyre asked.

“Nothing.” Elain said abruptly.

“Elain,” Feyre said gently. “You called me just to talk about how pretty your neighbor is.” There was so much unspoken in Feyre’s voice that Elain felt the weight of it on her shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter,” Elain said, forcing away the rush of emotions. “I’m with Graysen.”

There was a moment of silence over the phone.

“It’s not a crime that you find another man attractive, Elain.” Feyre said and Elain felt herself nodding along.

“I know.”

A knock sounded from the door.

“I have to go, Graysen is here. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Ok-love-you-bye!” Feyre rushed out before Elain hung up.

— — — — —

“I can’t believe you followed me home.” Azriel said, fishing around in his duffle bag to pull out his keys.

The thump of Cassian bouncing a basketball beat steadily behind his back as Azriel unlocked his door.

“I didn’t follow you home,” Cassian said and Azriel shot him a bland look over his shoulder. “We’re hanging out, it’s what friends do.”

“And your being here has nothing to do with Elain?” Azriel asked, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at Cassian who had begun to spin the basketball on his index finger.

“Of course not, I—”

The ball slipped from Cassian’s finger and flew across the hall, smashing against Elain’s door. How the ball managed to move perpendicularly through the air, Azriel never knew.

Half of Azriel wanted to rush into his apartment and slam the door to leave Cassian to his own humiliation, but the sound of a male voice behind Elain’s door made Azriel stay in place.

Two seconds later they watched as the door swung open to reveal someone Azriel could only assume was The Boyfriend standing there with Elain peering out at them behind his shoulder.

The Boyfriend…did not look happy as he took in Azriel and Cassian standing in the hallway.

“Hi Azriel,” Elain said with a polite smile as she curiously looked at him. The eyes of The Boyfriend snapped to her and narrowed. “Is this yours?” She went to reach for the stray basketball, but The Boyfriend’s hands shot out and grabbed it first.

“You should be more careful next time.” He said, holding the ball out to Azriel, his eyes weary and smile plastic as he sized Azriel up.

“My bad,” Cassian said with a charming grin as he took the ball that Graysen was holding out after it became obvious that Azriel wasn’t going to. “Azriel has better control over his balls than I do,” Cassian took a step back and slapped Azriel on the back, but when no one laughed he stuck his hand out toward Elain. “Cassian. Nice to meet you.”

“Elain.” She replied kindly, her eyes flickering to Azriel as she accepted Cassian’s outstretched hand.

“I was on the phone with him this morning.” Azriel said and nodded towards Cassian, his lips twitching as Elain’s eyes widened.

Everyone noticed the way her cheeks flushed and the way Cassian smiled hungrily.

Elain sheepishly drew her hand back as she asked, “Are you a firefighter as well?” Her eyes dipped to his t-shirt which boasted the numbers of the local fire station.

“You know it,” Cassian’s grin widened. “Someone’s got to rescue all those kitties trapped in trees.”

Elain laughed at that, but The Boyfriend bristled.

“We should get back to lunch.” The Boyfriend said with false cheer.

“Of course,” Elain said, blinking. “It was nice to see you both.” She nodded at Azriel and Cassian.

“I’m having some friends over next week,” Azriel rushed out as Elain was turning away. Her wide brown eyes curious as she looked at him over her shoulder. “Saturday. You should stop by.”

“I’d love to —”

“We have plans.” The Boyfriend cut her off, and Azriel couldn’t stop himself from glaring at him.

Elain’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she said, “But I asked if you wanted to get brunch and you mentioned a business lunch?”

Azriel’s jaw hurt as he ground his teeth together.

“We can head over once that’s wrapped up.” The Boyfriend said, his smile not budging from his lips.

“Elain can come whenever she wants.” Azriel said, his voice not exactly dark, but full of meaning. Enough meaning that Elain’s cheeks turned ripened pink and The Boyfriend outright glared at him.

Azriel didn’t back down from his stare, keeping his face completely neutral even though he knew Cassian was wearing a shit-eating grin next to him.

“That’s very kind of you,” Elain muttered, tugging on her boyfriend's arm. “I’ll see you later?” She asked hesitantly, and Azriel nodded in confirmation.

“It was nice meeting you!” Cassian called out as Elain was closing the door, but they managed to see the small smile on her lips before they were shut out.

Azriel and Cassian stood in the hallway, Azriel looking at the door intensely while Cassian’s eyes flitted between the door and his friend.

“Fuck that guy, right?” Cassian said.��

“Yeah,” Azriel nodded. “Fuck that guy.”

— — — — — —

“And you haven’t seen him, right?” Graysen asked over the phone, his voice suspicious and casual in a way that made Elain roll her eyes.

“Not even in passing.” Elain said, flipping over her pancakes. For some reason she was craving something sweet as soon as she woke up — she didn’t even bother changing out of Graysen’s old Wharton’s shirt and her boy shorts she slept in.

“Good.” Graysen said, his relief evident over the phone.

“I don’t know why you hate him so much.” Elain muttered, moving her pancakes off of the heat and getting ready to add more batter to the hot pan.

“He was coming onto you right there in the hallway, right in front of me, and you weren’t exactly telling him to back off.” Graysen said irritably.

“You’re exaggerating.” Elain said, but the creeping, gnawing feeling of guilt wormed its way underneath her skin. She might be able to lie to Graysen, but she couldn’t lie to herself. And the fact that she could lie to Graysen sent alarm bells blaring in her mind.

“Yeah, well, don’t go over there on Saturday without me.” Graysen said in a way that made Elain bristle.

“You don’t even know what time your lunch will be over,” Elain said, her voice hitting an unbecoming whine. “And I’m free all day, so why wouldn’t I go over?”

“Because he wants to fuck you, Elain.”

“He does not!” Elain roared over the phone, her cheeks burning as she angrily flipped her pancakes. “And besides, there will be lots of people over there so it’s not like we’ll be alone. And after years of dating I’ve given you zero reasons not to trust me.”

Graysen sighed into her ear.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized and Elain felt slightly mollified. “I just don’t like that he lives across from you.”

“You have nothing to worry about.” Elain said in resignation, but she wondered if she had the willpower to push Azriel away if he made a move on her.

“I know.” Graysen said, but Elain could tell he didn’t quite believe the words.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a knock sounded from the door.

“I should go,” Elain said, taking the pancakes off a little too soon so they wouldn’t burn. “My breakfast is ready.” She didn’t tell Graysen about the knock, having a sneaking suspicion it was Azriel on the opposite side of the door.

“Enjoy, baby.”

“Thanks.” Elain said, hanging up before her guilt could consume her.

She rushed across the hardwood floor, completely forgetting the fact that she was in her underwear, and opened the door a crack to see Azriel on the opposite side of the door.

“Hi.” Elain said breathlessly, taking in his wet hair and clean scent and gray sweatpants. His white t-shirt clung to his torso in a way Elain shouldn’t have noticed.

“Hey,” Azriel said in a low voice, his face touched with kindness. “I was wondering if I could borrow some sugar?” He held out an empty measuring up.

“Oh,” Elain said in surprise. “Of course, come in.” She opened the door wider and stepped aside.

As soon as Azriel clocked what she was wearing his eyes darkened and he visibly swallowed.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Azriel said, his voice slightly scratchy.

Elain shook her head, her golden curls moving with her head, and said, “You’re not interrupting. I’m just making some breakfast…I always make too much…do you want some?” She nodded to the plate of towering pancakes.

“If you don’t mind.” Azriel said, a small smile winding on his lips.

“Of course not,” Elain said, gliding back to the kitchen in a rush. “Please have a seat.” She motioned towards the table without looking at it.

She piled four pancakes on top of each other with little pads of butter between them and drizzled a generous amount of maple syrup on top before placing it in front of Azriel.

“Coffee?” She asked and as soon as Azriel nodded his head, she filled up a mug and got out the half-and-half and set it down on the table.

“Did I forget anything?” Elain asked, looking around. “Oh! Do you like blueberries?” She was about to take off again when Azriel’s warm hand clasped around her wrist.

“Elain,” He said gently and Elain felt herself melt. His hazel eyes were amused and kind as they captured her attention. “I don’t mind, but you might want to put some pants on.” His eyes flickered down to her legs before he forcefully pulled them away.

“Oh,” Her eyes widened. “Oh! I’m so sorry! Excuse me!” Elain scampered off to grab the first article of clothing she could find - her well loved plaid pajama shorts. “Please just ignore the last three minutes!”

Her cheeks were pink as she made her way back into the common area, but even though she should be dying of humiliation since she was walking around pantless in front of someone she’d talked to for a collective ten minutes — she had a feeling this story would be re-told with charm rather than embarrassment.

“You’re not eating,” She stated when she returned to the table, her brows coming together. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m just waiting for you.” Azriel said with an easy grin.

Her heart stopped as if it understood his words and didn’t quite believe it.

He was waiting for her. How many times had she made a meal for Graysen and he just started without her?

“I’m sorry,” Elain muttered, averting her eyes. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” She quickly gathered her own pancakes and coffee and sat next to Azriel — well adjacent to Azriel since she sat at the head of the table and Azriel was directly to her right.

“Don’t apologize,” Azriel said, leaning forward to place a warm hand on her bare knee. “I’m just trying to be polite.”

Her eyes locked on his brown hand on her pale thigh. Little scars scattered the length of his skin to create something beautiful, but she was taken by the mere size of his hand and the way it emitted warmth.

“Sorry.” Azriel quickly took his hand back as if she burned him. “I know they can freak people out.” His cheeks were red as he cut into the fluffy pancakes with his fork, little puffs of steam floated through the air as he took a bite. “Delicious pancakes, thank you.” Azriel said as he dug back into his breakfast.

“No,” Elain said belatedly and Azriel looked at her in confusion. “I was thinking about how large your hands are,” She held up her own hand, palm facing him and wiggling her fingers. “My sisters always made fun of how small my hands are. See?”

Azriel blinked at her.

“Your hands are perfect.” Azriel declared and Elain blushed.

“Well, so are yours, but that doesn’t mean mine aren’t freakishly small.”

Azriel snorted at her.

“They’re not freakishly small, they’re just…small.” Azriel said, smiling and Elain rolled her eyes in affection.

“Let me see yours.” She motioned for him to lift his hand up and he slowly, almost sheepishly, exposed his scarred and calloused palm to her. Elain laid her palm directly against his, indulging in the feel of his hand. The warmth. The strength. She tried to not think about his hands gripping her hips, or his fingers writing on her body. She really tried not to think about that.

“Hmmm.” Elain hummed as she took in the size difference of their hands. Her fingers barely touching his and his palm noticeably larger than hers. “I can’t tell if my hand is freakishly small or if yours is freakishly big.” She half-heartedly joked.

“I don’t know, I think they fit pretty perfectly together.” Azriel said almost thickly, and Elain tore her gaze away from their hands to see him intensely staring at her.

“Me too,” Elain said, slowly — begrudgingly — taking her hand back and using it to pick up her fork to stop herself from reaching for him again. “I can reach the bottom of the Pringles can and you can open any jar. We’re a match made in heaven.”

Azriel slowly smiled at her.

“I’d have to agree.” He turned back to his breakfast, smiling into his next bite.

Conversation flowed easily after that. They talked about how Elain worked with a local florist and would love to open up her own shop one day and how she’d also worked on her social media brand online, which explained her odd working hours. Azriel talked about how he had known Cassian since they were children and that she’d meet their other friend Rhysand on Saturday — and he even mentioned the fact that Rhysand convinced his family to take Azriel and Cassian in at a young age and how the three of them were closer than brothers. Elain mentioned her two sisters, whom she loved more than life itself, so Azriel extended them an invitation to his gathering on Saturday which caused Elain’s world to instantly brighten.

“Thank you again,” Elain said as they stood by her door hours later, her hands clasped behind her back as she peered up at Azriel. “I’m sure my sisters are going to be thrilled. We never get to do anything together anymore.”

Azriel’s dark brows pulled together.

“Why’s that?” He asked.

“Graysen doesn’t really like them,” Elain explained and Azriel couldn’t stop the scowl on his face. “Anyway,” Elain pushed on before he could comment. “Thanks again for stopping by.”

Azriel raised a brow at her and said, “I ate most of your breakfast and you’re thanking me?” It’s true. Azriel went back for seconds. And thirds. But Elain smiled as she watched him enjoy her food.

“You saved me from leftovers. I have bad habits when it comes to breakfast food. I love it too much.”

“Yeah,” Azriel said, leaning in conspiratorially, “I’m like that with baked goods.”

Elain grinned widely at him.

“Those are my specialty…I’ll have to bring something on Saturday.” She bit her lip to try and stifle her smile.

“I can’t wait.” Azriel said, grinning.

They stood there grinning at each other, neither one of them moving to open the door. Both of them ignoring the still-empty measuring cup that Azriel had brought over.

“I meant what I said the other day,” Azriel said, tilting his head at her. “You can come over to my place any time.”

“I am curious to see what it looks like.” Elain admitted.

“You can come over now. I —” An alarm bursted through the air, coming from the phone tucked inside of his back pocket. Azriel sighed, his body deflating. “My shift starts in 40 minutes.”

Elain couldn’t stop the wave of disappointment that swam through her.

“Some other time than.” She mumbled.

“Some other time,” Azriel agreed and pressed his lips into her soft, plump cheek before he could stop himself. “I’ll see you later, Elain.” He said, his breath tickling her overly-sensitive skin.

“Bye.” Elain said breathlessly, watching him leave with wide eyes.

She swayed for a moment in place before she fell against the door.

— — — —

“Are you sure about this?” Feyre asked, using her nail to clean up her lipstick in the mirror.

Elain’s entire bathroom was covered in beauty products as she and her sisters got ready to go over to Azriel’s place. Even though it was casual and there was no need for them to spend so much time on hair and make up…but the Archeron sisters liked to look good, and they liked getting ready together. Some of Elain’s most favorite memories involved them getting ready together, whether it was for prom or just to go shopping. It was when they felt the most like sisters.

“Of course.” Elain said, careful not to look at Feyre or Nesta because they could easily see right through her.

“Twenty bucks says Elain gets laid by the hot fireman by the end of the week.” Nesta said slyly, carefully coating her eyelashes in mascara. The black striking against her blue eyes. It took everything in Elain not to hip check her.

“Stop it!” Elain cried, but fighting a smile as she did it.

“How many times have you done it in your head?” Feyre asked with a cat-like grin as she fluffed her golden brown hair.

Elain pursed her lips together, not willing to give either of them the satisfaction of knowing that Elain had pictured her and Azriel together in vivid, graphic detail. She simply ignored them and reached for her favorite perfume.

“A-ha!” Nesta exclaimed, sticking the mascara wand out at her sister. “That’s sex perfume!”

“It is not!” Elain laughed as she sprayed her neck. And hair. And wrists. “I just felt like this one today.” She brushed off the fact that it was her most seductive scent.

“Mmhmm,” Feyre sounded, not hiding her smile. “And then explain the sundress?”

“And the fuck-me-heels?” Nesta added on.

Her sisters smiled knowingly, almost smugly, at her.

Elain opened her mouth and closed it again, feeling oddly like a fish.

“I just want to look nice, is that a crime? And these are hardly fuck-me-heels.” Elain said and looked down at the shoes in question. “They’re wedges, so they’re casual.”

“Your nails are painted red,” Nesta said with a devious grin. “And they have straps, so you know your hot fireman will think about undoing them.”

“Please.” Elain tried to scoff and push the thought out of the room.

“She has a point,” Feyre said, nudging Elain gently with her elbow. “But it’s nice to see you all dressed up.”

“And you’re due to a good fucking,” Nesta said, finally capping the mascara. Elain started to protest but her sister continued. “Are there going to be other hot firemen at this thing?”

“Probably.” Elain said with a smile.

The sisters made their way towards the door, all of them looking beautiful in their own right. Elain wore a flower-yellow sundress which she thought made her look tan and emphasized her brown eyes. Feyre was beautiful in her denim skirt and loose cream sweater. And Nesta was stunning in tight black jeans and sleek black top. Even though they goofed on Elain for her “fuck-me-heels” she chouldn’t help but notice Feyre and Nesta also wore heels. She smiled fondly as she shut the door behind them and went over to knock on Azriel’s door.

They waited all of three seconds before the door swung open and they were greeted by an exceedingly beautiful man. One that wasn’t Azriel. Or even Cassian.

His violet eyes looked at her knowingly before breezing past her and locking onto her sister. His grin grew as keen interest sharpened in his eyes. A crisp, white button down — which seemed it was perfectly tailored to his body — was tucked into jeans, and Elain was certain his outfit cost a small fortune.

“Hi,” Elain said, forcing herself to speak up. “I’m Elain — I live across the hall. Azriel invited us over.”

At the mention of her name, Violet Eyes snapped his attention back onto her.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” He said in an amused voice and stuck his hand out to her. “I’m Rhysand. Azriel will be pleased that you’re here,” Rhysand leaned in close, and Elain could feel Feyre leaning forwards as well, wanting to be included, while Nesta just stood back and observed. “You know he threw this entire party for you.”

“Hey, don’t fuck with her,” Azriel's familiar voice floated through the air, and Rhysand’s grin had a wicked quality as he moved out of the way to let Azriel in. “And it’s not a party.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes.

Elain felt breathless as Azriel’s hazel eyes trailed up and down her body, his eyes catching on the part of her leg that touched the hem of her sundress.

“Hi.” Elain said softly as her eyes connected with Azriel’s.

A slow grin unfurled on Azriel’s lips.

“Hi.” Azriel replied, his eyes heady and smoldering.

Nesta gave a not-so-subtle clearing of her throat.

“These are my sisters,” Elain rushed out, her cheeks flaming. “Nesta,” Elain nodded her head. “And Feyre.”

“Come in,” Azriel said, sticking his hand out to Nesta and Feyre. “Nice to meet you both.”

They all found themselves crammed into the entry of Azriel’s apartment, with Elain pressed against Azriel’s side. She could feel his muscles through the thin cotton of her dress and his hand naturally settled on her hip.

“Do you guys want a drink?” Azriel asked, his mouth close to her ear. “We’ve got beer, wine, and something Cassian made called ‘jungle juice’ which Rhys and I haven’t been brave enough to try.”

Nesta let out an amused scoff.

“Is this a frat party?” Nesta asked, a hair too mockingly, but after certain looks from Feyre and Elain, Nesta shrugged and said, “I like frat parties. It’s the only place we can do body shots in public.”

Rhysand and Azriel both chuckled at that and shared a look.

“Come inside.” Azriel said, gently pushing Elain by the small of her back.

It thrilled her to be touched by him and the fact that it felt so natural and comfortable almost squashed the hair of guilt she felt worming inside of her.

Azriel wasted no time getting her alone — she barely counted the number of people that filled his living room before he got her into the kitchen which was overflowing with coolers and snack foods.

“We’re grilling burgers and hot dogs later, but I have some chicken if you’d prefer that — there’s not enough for everyone, but I can grill it just for you. Or Mor brought some pasta salad and I think there’s humus out there if you don’t eat meat. You do —”

“I’ve never heard Azriel talk this much in my life.” Cassian’s familiar voice came from behind Azriel’s irritated form.

Cassian joined them and slapped Azriel on the back.

“Elain, you’re looking stunning as ever.” Cassian said with a smile. Elain could tell that whatever interest he may have had in her fizzled out (thankfully) and he only flirted with her to get a reaction out of Azriel.

“Thanks Cassian.”

“Can we help you?” Azriel asked him irritably, and Elain was entirely too affected by the fact that he wanted to have her completely alone.

“Just getting Nesta some of my famous punch.” Cassian said, entirely too flippantly. Elain had only known him for a short amount of time, but “flip” and “Cassian” didn’t mesh together.

Azriel grinned at that, his annoyance bleeding away.

“Trying to get her drunk already?” Azriel teased and Cassian cheeks turned pink.

“Dude,” Cassian started, looking at Azriel with wide eyes as he grabbed a red plastic cup. “She actually dared me to do a shot off of her —” Azriel kicked him and nodded his head towards Elain. Cassian shot her a pained look. “Sorry Lainy.”

Elain waved him off and said, “My selective hearing is one of my best qualities.”

Cassian grinned at her, but Azriel took a step closer to her and leaned against the counter and Elain felt herself being pulled into his side by some magnetic force. Cassian kept talking, but Elain wasn’t entirely sure what about because she kept imagining Azriel putting his arm over her shoulder — and was her mind playing tricks on her, or was he gripping the counter to stop from reaching for her. If he did put his arm around her shoulder, then would he pull her in close? Would he massage the back of her neck or place his fingers in her hair? He was so close that Elain could smell his aftershave and Elain fought herself from taking a long, deep inhale.

Suddenly, Elain was hit by the weight of her crush.

She felt like she was back in high school with the giddy butterflies swarming her stomach.

“So what does she like?” Cassian’s voice finally broke through, or maybe it was the fact that Azriel kindly nudged her with his elbow.

“Huh?” Elain asked, a bit dazed from where her thoughts were taking her.

Cassian grinned at her, as if knowing exactly what she was thinking.

“Nesta,” Cassian confirmed, not commenting on how spacey Elain was being. “What does she like?”

Elain thought for a second, tossing and turning ideas over in her mind.

“Her bark is worse than her bite,” Elain said softly. “And she can be a bit prickly if someone gets too close, but she really just wants someone to like her for who she is. Someone that doesn't back down. And someone who makes her laugh.”

Cassian nodded, a drink in each hand, and Elain knew he was taking what she said to heart.

“Thanks,” Cassian said with a kind smile — which quickly turned more devious. “I’ll get of your hair before Azriel kills me like I know he wants to. He was so cute, planning this thing all week and getting pissy when we called it a ‘party’ and —”

“Alright,” Azriel said, pushing off of the counter and steering Cassian out of the kitchen with by his shoulders “Time to fuck off.”

Cassian threw his head back in a laugh, his curls flying, but he didn’t put up a fight as Azriel forced him out of the room.

When they were alone again Azriel finally turned around to face her and Elain couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on her lips.

“I have a question,” Elain said as Azriel made his way back to her, his strong arms crossed over his chest. “Did you really do this for me?” Elain asked, her voice slightly too breathy.

Azriel moved in closer.

His nose just a hair's breadth away from her.

“Elain, I’ve lived here for four years and never had more than four other people here at a time, but now I’ve called every friend of a friend I could think of just as a cover so no one would think twice about me inviting the beautiful girl next door into my place. I even have a fucking beyond burger on deck just incase you don’t eat meat. Cassian had to talk me out of buying flowers for tonight but…” Elain couldn’t breathe. Azriel took a step away from her and opened the fridge and Elain saw a beautiful bouquet of tulips. “But Rhysand said to just give them to you tomorrow.”

“You got me tulips?” Elain asked, the air in the room turned hot and humid and thick.

“You said they were your favorite.” Azriel said, looking slightly confused.

“And you remembered.” Elain felt her face crumbling.

Graysen always got her roses. She was always grateful because it was a nice gesture, but she told herself that it was nice enough to get flowers and she shouldn’t be so picky…but it had taken Azriel an entire week to get her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. It wasn’t asking for too much to want something, and in all of two seconds Elain realized just how little she had been settling for.

“I just thought you’d like them.” Azriel shrugged and brushed a stray wavy lock out of his face.

“I love them. I —” She was about to say that she was going to break up with Graysen. Because she was going to at the first chance she got. She was tired of settling for the merest hint of attention and every scrap of affection that he bothered to throw at her. And it was so incredibly important to her that Azriel know that she’s going to end her relationship.

“Elain?”

Invisible ice slid down her back as she looked behind Azriel to see Graysen standing in the doorway, his eyes bouncing back between Elain and Azriel. An accusatory look in his eyes, one that wasn’t unfounded, but was thankfully left unspoken.

Azriel simply nodded to Graysen and closed the refrigerator door.

“Hey,” Graysen said to Azriel and walked over to Elain, interlocking his fingers with hers. “Thanks for inviting us.”

Azriel leaned against the closed refrigerator door and crossed his arms.

Elain wondered if this was something to cry about.

— — — —

She had no idea how she made it through the party, but she did. A broken heart heavy in her chest as she smiled her way through polite conversation — she felt awful watching Graysen chat and talk and be friendly knowing she was going to end what was between them. Every time he locked eyes with her he looked a bit confused and he asked if she wanted to leave about three times, but she kept saying no, not wanting to cause any type of suspicion.

They didn’t leave until almost midnight, and even then there were still people loafing around, but she had completely lost track of Feyre and Nesta. Azriel was backed into a corner by some blonde and Elain avoided the way he was desperately trying to seek her eyes as she left.

As soon as Elain closed the door to her apartment she watched as Graysen flopped onto her couch and kicked his feet onto the coffee table.

“Thank fuck that’s over.” Graysen groaned, letting his head fall back onto the couch.

“Graysen.” Elain said, unable to keep the crack out of her voice.

His body tensed as he opened his eyes, and Elain knew that he knew.

He sat up and placed his feet firmly on the ground and clasped his hands together between his knees.

“Did you fuck him?” Graysen asked, a quiet anger in his voice.

“No,” Elain said emphatically, walking over to him. “Of course not?”

“But you thought about it?” Graysen asked, his voice tight like a spring wound too far.

“I —” Elain couldn’t bring herself to lie about it, she just stood there with her hands limply at her sides.

“Fuck.” Graysen exclaimed, launching the vase of flowers on the table across the room with the flat of his hand.

Elain couldn’t help the shriek that escaped her — out of surprise more than anything else.

“I knew from the way he fucking looked at you, and the way you looked at him…I haven’t seen that look in your eyes since…well, since you looked at me for the first time.” Graysen sounded hurt and defeated and angry and Elain felt about two inches tall.

A heavy thumping came from her door followed quickly by Azriel’s voice calling out for her name.

“Great,” Graysen said, standing and gripping his hair. “Fucking great we can’t even break up without him being here.”

Graysen took a step towards the door, but Elain held out a hand to stop him and rushed towards the door in case he made a charge for it.

Elain cracked open the door to see a worried and concerned Azriel.

“Are you ok?” Azriel asked, his eyes looking her over from top to bottom to make sure she wasn’t harmed. “I heard you scream.”

“I’m fine,” Elain assured him and forced a smile. “Just, um, surprised. But I’m ok. I promise.”

Azriel’s intense hazel eyes looked behind her, zeroing in on Graysen, and Elain watched as a dark cloud descended on his face.

“We’ll talk tomorrow?” Azriel asked and Elain nodded, quickly shutting the door.

Elain turned around and rested her back against the door.

“At least you’ll be in good hands.” Graysen said bitterly, walking towards the door.

“Grayen,” Elain pleaded, staring up at him. “Don’t end it like this.”

He smiled cruelly at her and said, “You’re the one that ended it.”

He didn’t push her out of the way necessarily, but he definitely pushed past her.

For some reason, Elain followed him into the hall, it seemed like the polite thing to do. Like she was sad to see him go — and she was sad. She wasn’t sure if she was sad Graysen was leaving or sad that she spent so much of her life with him and now he was going to be nothing more than a memory.

“Oh great, you’re here,” Graysen said, almost laughing in absurdity. “Of course you’re still here.”

Azriel’s eyes didn’t move from Graysen, carefully tracking his every move.

“You didn’t have to stay.” Elain said, melting a bit at the gesture.

“I wanted to.” Azriel said, his face and voice utterly neutral, making it clear that he didn't want to escalate anything.

Elain watched the muscle popping in Graysen’s jaw, and he took one step at Azriel before turning and storming down the hall.

“She’s not worth it.” Graysen muttered before turning the corner.

Elain and Azriel stood in a heavy silence, broken only by two drunken party goers leaving Azriel’s apartment and he nodded goodbye to them as they stumbled down the hallway.

“We broke up,” Elain blurted out as soon as they were alone again. “I broke up with him,” Azriel nodded, his eyes wide as he processed what Elain said. More drunken revelry was happening in Azriel’s apartment and before they could be interrupted again Elain motioned to her apartment. “Want to come in?”

Azriel nodded and followed her inside. His eyes immediately took in the broken glass, water, and limp flowers on the floor.

“The scream?” Azriel asked with a raised eyebrow and Elain nodded shyly.

“I was surprised.” Elain said, about to spring into action to clean up the mess, but Azriel was already kneeling down and picking up the shards of glass.

“Don’t cut yourself,” Elain rushed around getting the dustpan and trashcan before kneeling next to him. “You don’t have to do this, Azriel.”

She swept up some of the glittering pieces of glass and Azriel dumped a handful of them in the trash can.

“I want to help you, Elain,” Azriel said meaningfully, and Elain felt two hot, salty tears slide down her face. “In any way I can.”

“Thank you,” Elain said, clearing her throat and clearing it again because somehow it became harder to breathe. “Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Elain.” Azriel said softly, picking up the last few large pieces of glass. After a quiet pause he softly asked, “What happened?”

Elain couldn’t look him in the eyes as she wondered how to answer him.

“You,” She said as she swept a sad-looking rose into the dustpan. “Your tulips. I just — I realized how much our relationship was over, you know? How empty it actually was. I just couldn’t pretend anymore.”

Elain swept up the last of the damage before finally looking Azriel in the eye.

“You remembered I liked tulips,” Elain said with a shrug. “He never did.”

“He’s a fucking idiot.” Azriel said gruffly.

Elain shrugged and was about to say something in response — she wasn’t sure what, but somebody hollered for Azriel out in the hall.

“Are you ok?” Azriel asked, standing. Outstretching a hand to Elain to help her stand.

“I’ll be fine.” Elain said, forcing a smile. A smile that melted into a very real one before Azriel placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

Azriel’s name was called again and he begrudgingly left her apartment.

Elain took a shower and tried not to think too much about what the hell happened, and listened to music that both helped her wallow in her sadness and made her feel a little less alone and eventually she managed to fall asleep. Before she slipped into her dreams she remembered the plate of cookies she made especially for Azriel, wanting to hold off until the party was over to give them to him.

When she woke up the next morning, it was to Azriel knocking at her door holding a bouquet of tulips and a little shot of espresso.

#The Tortured Bats Department #elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #fawnandshadows writing #elriel month #elriel month 2024

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s1llysmut · 6 months ago

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hii :3 i was wondering if you could do a jealous/possesive Lucifer x reader smut fic with an aftercare bit at the end? preferably a trans (f to m) reader but if not im not picky :]

A/N: Yes of course!!! I’ll do my best!!!

CW/TW: Breeding, jealousy, slight blood, biting

Mine

Alastor x reader smut

It was a regular day at the hazbin hotel. Angel Dust was flirting with Husk who was running the bar, Vaggie and Charlie were discussing plans for the hotel, sir pentious was watching Nifty sweep the floor for the 67th time, and Alastor and you were sitting on the sofa. You scrolling through your phone, Alastor reading a newspaper.

It was quite a peaceful quiet day. Or at least it was.

“Charlie!”

“Dad! What are you doing here?”

In walked the king of hell. While his daughter rushed over to greet him, so did Alastor. Just, well, not as friendly.

“Ah! If it isn’t the king of hell! Finally being a mediocre father and visiting your daughter?” Alastor smiled but it was obviously not happiness behind his eyes.

Lucifer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened but surprisingly no sarcastic response came out. Instead he closed his mouth as quickly as he opened it, and started waltzing over to none other than you.

Uh oh. This can’t be good.

“Y/n! Oh it’s so good to see you!” Lucifer smiles brightly at you as he sits beside you.

“Oh hi Lucifer. Nice to see you too,” realistically you don’t care if Lucifer is at the hotel or not. Some people love him like Charlie, others hate him like Alastor, however you just genuinely don’t care.

You can see Alastor’s eye twitching from where he’s still standing near the door. Lucifer seemed to have also noticed your boyfriend’s annoyance.

“By God Y/n, you look absolutely dashing today! Just the image of perfection!” Lucifer leans in closer to you, you can tell he’s only doing this to piss off Alastor, which seems like it’s slowly starting to work. Somehow though, Alastor kept his composure.

Then Lucifer pulled you into a hug. Just a regular hug, there was nothing inherently wrong with it, however, Alastor never has been able to tell right from wrong.

In a swift and fluid motion Alastor digs his claws into the back of your shirt and lifts you up out of Lucifer’s grasp as if you’re a kitten.

“A-Alastor!” You yelp as he carries you off wordlessly.

When you arrive to your shared bedroom he simply drops you onto the bed. Not harshly but certainly not gently either.

“Alastor what the fuck was that?!”

“That my dear, was me protecting you from sin itself,” he snarls.

Ohhh now you get it.

“Are you- are you jealous?” You ask, trying not to laugh while also a bit shocked.

“Jealous? No no darling, I don’t get jealous, I get possessive,” he smiles eerily.

“What’s the difference?”

He climbs onto the bed until he’s hovering over you.

“Jealousy is wishing for something others have…” he leans in and kisses your neck before pulling away.

“And possessiveness is protecting what’s already mine.” He bites at your neck just enough to leave a mark with a bit of blood.

“Alastor!” You squeak out.

“Shhh I won’t hurt you my darling~ I just need to make sure he knows you’re mine” he whispers in your ear while quickly stripping himself of his clothes.

Once you quickly realize what he’s insinuating you begin to strip yourself.

Once you’re both fully naked he pauses above you, looking down at you. You can almost see a sort of gentleness in his eyes for a split second.

“Hell, you’re beautiful my dear, such a handsome man,”

He retracts his claws and slides a single finger between your wet folds.

You shudder and moan his name weakly.

“My my, such a naughty boy, so wet over what? Another man flirting with you?” He almost growls out the last words.

“N-no that’s not it at all!-“ Your attempt at protesting failed when he starts fucking you at a fast pace without any warning, causing your words yo melt into moans.

“A-Alastor! F-fuck!”

He pounds into you at a brutal pace, like a crazed animal in mating season.

“Good boy~ moan my name louder. Let him know you’re mine, let them all know you’re mine.”

He reaches his fingers down to rub at your most sensitive spots while his lips connect with your neck, licking up the blood he had spilled earlier.

You continue to moan his name while clutching at the sheets. Alastor is so long you could feel his tip kissing your cervix over and over again.

“That’s it my precious boy, cum for me. Cum for me and only me” he continues to thrust into you. You can hear faint radio static, meaning he’s close as well.

“A-ALASTOR! FUCKKK!~” you scream out his name as you finish on his dick. You were definitely loud enough for others to hear, not that you care right now anyways.

“Fuck that’s a good boy~ I’m going to cum inside of you. Fill you full of my children. Claim- fuck! you as mine~!”

Alastor’s thrusts get a bit sloppier and the radio static gets louder before you feel an explosion of warmth inside of you.

After he comes down from his high he lies on your chest a moment to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, cherishing these rare moments of vulnerability with him.

Master a while, he pulls out of you and lifts you up bridal style. Normally you’d protest, claiming you can walk on your own but, let’s be honest, no you can’t.

He carries you into your bathroom and with a snap of his fingers the bath in front of you is filled with warm water, rose petals, and candles.

A few minutes later you’re in the bath together, you’re half asleep and Alastor is washing your hair while humming some old timey song.

After the bath he dries you both with a snap of his fingers and gets you cozy in bed. You fall asleep pretty much immediately. As you sleep he admires you. He’d never admit it but he studies your features every night while you’re asleep.

He leans in and gives you a gentle forehead kiss before whispering,

“I’m so glad you’re mine,”

A/N: AHHHH I HOPE I DID OKAY?!?!?

#hazbin hotel #smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #smut fic #headcanon #smut headcanons #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin x reader #breeding k1nk #cw blood #tw blood

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once-in-a-blood-moon · 8 months ago

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Jooooo!!! Hiya!!!! Can i request solomon + tell no lie? I just think this prompt kinda suits him lmao. Lots of love!! 🫶🫶🫶

Solomon - Tell No Lie

Solomon x GN! reader

Prompt: It’s impossible to lie to your soulmate.

AN: Hi Ven!!! Much love to you as well!! 💜 Sorry for the delay, but anyways this is kind of a silly fic based on a thought I had of Solomon sometime ago, and thought it worked well with the prompt...or at least I hope it did 😅 I really hope you enjoy it! Thank you for being patient and take care of yourself!!

Warnings: Solomon referring to reader as dear, darling, and beautiful, Solomon being Solomon shenanigans (I promise!), slight miscommunication but nothing angsty, established soulmate connection/relationship

Another stressful day babysitting the Avatars of Sin, you can hardly wait to go back to Cocytus Hall where it’s significantly more peaceful and quiet…as long as Solomon hasn’t snuck into the kitchen while you were away.

You have your D.D.D. up to your ear as you wait for the sorcerer to pick up, wanting to let him know you’re on your way and that Lucifer is escorting you this evening. You hear the faint shut of the door behind you as Lucifer joins you out under the front awning, staying quiet as he notices your ear-to-phone stance.

The phone goes to the last ring, and you don’t think Solomon’s going to pick up – which is odd because normally he picks up in less than two if it’s you – but he does at the last second, sounding as carefree as ever.

“Ah, hello, my dear. Ready to come back home?”

“Yeah, though Lucifer offered to walk me back,” you reply, giving Lucifer a quick appreciative grin, which he returns as he waits patiently beside you, “we’re just leaving now.”

The sorcerer hums softly. “I see. I’ve…had something come up, so that works out perfectly then.” You pick up his nervous tone with ease and know automatically something’s troubling him.

“...Is everything okay?” You know that a question like that is his weakness. Really…any and all of your questions are his weakness. They’re inescapable, unavoidable, and you like that you can use that to your advantage often.

He answers a hair too quickly, probably hoping you won’t interrogate him further, while still being truthful. “Yeah! Yes. Everything is great, I think.”

“Uh-huh… So, what is this “something,” Solomon?”

There’s a delay in the answering this time. You can almost even hear him trying to physically restrain himself from saying anything, but it’s no use. He cannot lie to you – not that he likes to anyway, but there are things better left unsaid sometimes.

Solomon sighs into the phone as the truth pushes past his lips, “I have a kid...”

To say you are dumbfounded is an understatement. You’re silent for longer than is comfortable, blinking slowly and unable to formulate any questions. Once you gather yourself, you fill your lungs as you try to grapple with what he just said.

“I’m sorry… What?!” The alarm in your voice is quite apparent, causing Lucifer to glance over in worry, wondering if he should get involved or not.

On the other side of the line, there’s some crashing sounds and light scolding from Solomon that’s hard to make out. It seems he’s holding the phone away from him. He soon brings the phone back to his ear with words coming out in a rushed flurry.

“I need to go, I’ll see you when you get back home!” Before you even get the chance, the sorcerer hangs up on you, and you’re left just as clueless as you started. You pocket your phone, your body tense and thoughts nervous for what you’re about to go home to.

Lucifer picks up on this as the both of you start your way towards the iron-wrought gate. “Is everything alright?”

You sigh in response, shaking your head as you try to sort out the conversation in your head. “Honestly…I have no idea.”

Due to how shocked and concerned you are, with millions of questions buzzing in your head, the walk to Cocytus Hall is silent. You also feel your heart in the pit of your stomach as you wonder what this means for Solomon and yourself. Lucifer doesn’t prod you any further, which you’re thankful for because what are you supposed to tell him?

Once you arrive, you thank Lucifer for escorting you before heading directly inside to see for yourself just what the hell is happening.

The first thing you notice upon entering is the odd smell wafting throughout the hall. It doesn’t smell anything like the chemical warfare Solomon cooks up in the kitchen with its distinct odor, so that’s at least a relief. You venture further in, making your way to the common room to see if the sorcerer is there.

Your foot crosses the threshold, but pauses mid-step as your eyes land on something black and fuzzy laying on the couch.

“Me-e-eh.”

“What the-” you start, but you recognize the sound of footsteps approaching from behind and you quickly glance over your shoulder to see Solomon with a little metal bowl filled with water. His eyes are trained on the bowl, simultaneously lost in his thoughts while making sure not to spill any, so when you clear your throat to get his attention, his head snaps up instantly.

He plasters on a cheerful smile which reaches his eyes upon seeing you home. “Welcome home, darling.”

You say nothing, now standing with your arms crossed as you stare at him with a blank expression as if waiting for him to explain why there is a baby goat sitting on the couch. Solomon lets out a sheepish chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck, indicating that he knows you know now.

“What do you think? He’s cute, no?”

“He’s cute, alright…” you pause, taking a peek at the little thing which is staring back at you in curiosity. You turn back to Solomon. “Is this the “kid” you mentioned earlier?”

A beat of silence passes between you two before he replies, “...yes.”

Your brows knit together so hard you might just start knitting a sweater with them. “Solomon, why didn’t you just tell me it was a baby goat? Wouldn’t that have been, oh I don’t know, simpler? I thought something else was going on!”

His eyes dart from yours to the bowl in his hands, feeling a bit ashamed of himself for worrying you so much. “I suppose so, but I didn’t lie to you. He is technically a kid.”

The sound of tiny hooves clicking against the wood floor draws your attention back to the goat, who trots its way over to the two of you, looking almost expectantly at Solomon. He smiles softly as he crouches down to set the bowl of water before the small creature.

“Here you go, little guy.” The goat sniffs at the bowl, inspecting it, before tentatively lapping at the cool, fresh water within. Solomon reaches a hand out and gently strokes its fuzzy back, gazing at it fondly. It seems the two have already bonded. You almost can’t be mad with how cute this scene is to you.

A little smile tugs at your lips as you start again. “Where did he come from?”

Solomon glances back up to you. “Would you believe me if I told you I honestly just found him wandering around down here in the street?”

“I kinda have to. You can’t lie to me.”

He chuckles in response. “Indeed I cannot. Though, you can’t lie to me either, my beautiful soulmate.”

“Hey, you can’t just throw some sweet words my way and think you can get away with this. You really had me spooked earlier,” a faint chuckle weaves its way through your words, finding this whole thing ridiculous. Still, you can’t deny how flattered you are, because you know it’s the truth.

He truly does see you that way.

“I know, I know. Flattery will get me nowhere… But you can’t blame a guy for trying,” he says as he shrugs with a hint of a smirk. “Anyways, I plan on looking into some notable farms in the human realm and contacting them to see if any of them are interested in taking him. He can’t stay here, unfortunately, as this wouldn’t be a sustainable life for him. But for now, he’s ours.” Solomon stands to full height and snakes his arms around your waist.

You grin as your hands come up to rest along his shoulders. “Ours?”

Solomon chuckles softly with a nod. “Yes,” he pauses for a moment, glancing down at the little goat who looks back up at him and “mehs” at him loudly. “I’ll think I’ll even let you name him.”

#valentine's soulmate event #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fluff #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #jo writes

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caramel-maveeato · 1 year ago

Text

ᴅᴏᴋɪ ᴅᴏᴋɪ ♡˚₊。。。

❧❤ SYNOPSIS: Eonni’s Gang’s unofficial couturier getting spellbound by the legendarily toe-curling rizzler So Mun (ft. real footage of Ga Motak being a professional matchmaker for 1k words straight)… ♡ Pairings/Love interest: So Mun x Fem!reader ♡ Genre: fluff, assumed relationship, reader is a simp in denial. ♡ TW: slightly suggestive, slight cursing, slight implication of bi-panic (it doesn’t indicate the reader is bi tho it’s just common sense to get skfjlsiglg when both Hana and Motak are in the room), might have been inserted a few TUC inside jokes and genZ slangs cus i was going insane over midterms i apologize ♡ word count: 3.7k

(request is here) Note: All characters originated from “The Uncanny Counter/Amazing Rumor” except for Y/n.

English is not my first language!!! Sorry in advance if I make any grammar and vocabulary mistakes.

Who would’ve guessed there was legitimately a place for the dead to arrive after life? Not exclusively for the completely-dead, though, it was created for close-to-dead people as well, like in your case right now.

You remembered girl-bossing a little too close to the sun and falling into a coma over… whatever. But instead of sinking into everlasting gloom where you could no longer feel or think like how those Hollywood movies portrayed, you were embraced by a bleached-clothed person who flung you back and forth between a fonded place of your memory and a blank white setting just as bleached, informing you about the world full of “evil spirits” and lecturing you into becoming a “counter” if you wished to continue living.

Since you were too young and beautiful, you refused to gaf about the possible risks of getting unalived for the second time, closed-eyedly concluding the verbal contract for a (hopefully) glorious future.

“Um…”

Six pairs of eyes leaped over at you. Ms. Chu swallowed her noodles before responding: “What’s the matter?”

“Well, I…”

You scratched the back of your neck out of instinct, briefly making eye contact with the rest of the table: “I’ve told you that I used to work in the fashion field, right?”

The chairman nodded his head: “Yeah, you did mention that the first day you came here."

There is no way you could back out now, not after you have entirely mustered the attention. Rotating unsaid words in your mouth while you observed their expressions one last time, hoping no one would find your sudden proposal weird: “If you don’t mind, is it alright if I… take your measurements and make some outfits? I just think it would be nice to at least do something in return for all the help I’ve been getting from you. I know it’s not a lot but…”

And that was how you ended up here, pacing around with a tailor’s ruler and a notepad.

Your suggestion wasn’t really approved at first as the team reassured you that it wasn’t just their responsibility to be your advisor but, at the same time, they were happy to be there for you, and that you shouldn’t be bothered to “return” the favor. But who are you to stop? All the remaining brain cells of yours congregated to list down every possible reason why this was what you deeply desired to do, including your “burning passion for fashion” and “essentiality for experience and modeling purposes.”

Thankfully, they all accepted your offer after ten minutes of hesitation.

Scribbling Jeokbong’s results down on the piece of paper, you scanned around, looking for the last person your notepad was still missing: “Where’s So Mun?”

Hana zipped up her hoodie that had been removed earlier for you to record her sizes, nonchalantly answering: “In his room, I suppose. His phone died so he said he’s going to charge it real quick.”

You thanked her before grabbing the equipment and making your way to the place mentioned. The hallway submerged itself in peaceful tranquility, conversations feebly reverberated back from the dinner table where your teammates gathered.

You knocked on So Mun's door to announce your presence, which was unnecessary since he was quick to notice you through the circular window: “Hey, do you mind if I…?”

“My turn already?” So Mun watched you nod with his signature amiable smile: “Sure. Do you need me to step outside?”

Sneaking a peek through the furniture and simple decorations, you stopped at his figure and moved closer. For some reason, the floor felt strangely unfamiliar as if you were a fawn testing its first step: “Nah, right here should also be fine, this won’t take long.”

The soothing atmosphere was filled with the subtle rustling of the measuring tape. Each touch of the tape was deliberate, like a delicate caress, ensuring precision in every little detail. You made a mental note of the circumference of his wrist and the length of his arm. So Mun was also very cooperative, staying still with a straight posture while you interchanged small talk: “So, what kind of outfits do you plan on making?”

You hummed, letting out a chuckle when he cracked up from the ticklishness of the stroke: “I’m not sure yet, maybe I can hear what your preference is after this? That way I can get a plus point for customer service too, a win-win for us.”

He lightheartedly went along with your playfulness: “Oh, I can’t wait!”

“Um-hm, now don’t squirm around or I’m gonna put you in a Chucky fit.”

“So we also do cosplay? Interesting,”

Soft laughter resonated. You were so diverted by the bubbly ambiance flowing from So Mun that you didn’t notice you had leaned over to slide the tape behind his neck, encircling it attentively to avoid any signs of discomfort. It was a calming afternoon, causing the source of light to be perceptibly minimized. As much as you tried to pin your focus on the assessment, your unamenable mind kept on targeting his lower-half face that popped into your view.

So Mun was adorned with a kiss from the dim sunlight glow, and for this one time you were given a chance to admire him this close, you were dazed to see how ideally shaped his jawline was, sharp enough to cut grass while the plumpness of his lips tamed the roughness down, two aspects blending perfectly like yin and yang.

Now you knew why the ground felt strange and your stomach flipped.

In front of you stood a young man who seemed to have stepped out of a webtoon where its protagonist was an underrated visual until the later season. Charismatic and fascinating, his gentle yet chiseled features must’ve been carved out under the skilled hands of the most proficient sculptor, embellished by an air of youthfulness.

From the very first glance, you were absolutely convinced that So Mun was, indeed, a local heartthrob.

His effortless charm easily attracted gazes and turned heads among those who crossed his path. Dark, tousled curls framed a face that was abundantly favored by the eyes, easy to remember but not easy to forget. His thick brows added the final touch to the astounding side profile and praised a pair of expressive gemstones that accommodated secrets untold. His pupils illustriously mirrored a pellucid surface of the water, holding both innocence and wisdom within those splendid irises that had been dyed in a ravishing deep brown color.

And the scariest part was that every time you laid your eyes on him, he seemed to become prettier.

Now that you have stumbled across his vicinity, you secretly prayed to every known religion (or just your own sanity in general) that you would commit nothing out-of-character to give away how bad you’ve already grown to fancy this man. Or else… there will be no “or else.”

Still, something had been peculiarly off.

It must’ve occurred to be some kind of hormonal chemical imbalance going wild right now. Because hell, the last time you found yourself feeling so jumpy around another person was when Hana nearly knocked you out after twenty minutes of physical abuse training (trust me, she did go 10x easier on you compared to how she went on So Mun and Jeokbong). But this specific man right here was not your mentor, nor was he about to beat you to a pulp. All he did was exist and let you take his measurements, periodt.

Maybe he was just remarkably snatched? It couldn’t be since your adrenaline level didn’t act (this) weird around Hana and Motak. Sure, your heart rate did climb notably when situated in close proximity with them, but with So Mun in particular?

It skyrocketed.

A long, deep breath silently expanded your lungs, working extra hard to untie the obstructive tensity. You stared at the tiny numbers on the tape measure and mentally repeated it two hundred times in an effort to inscribe the result in memory. However, it was suddenly an impossible task because of how disconnected your mind was at the moment.

So Mun was too close to you right now. Not dangerously close, yet the distance was limited enough for your head to spin and your heart to pound.

You have no clue if you should embrace this internal madness or not, but you certainly acknowledged that your lucidity and dignity were shrinking after each passing second. It’s going to be bad if you don’t get out of here soon.

“Y/n, why’s your face so red?”

Shit.

“What? No.” You denied without missing a beat, which laid bare your disobliging trepidation almost right away from how fast you responded.

So Mun marginally narrowed his eyes with plain disagreement: “Yes, it is. You’re not feeling unwell anywhere, are you?”

An invisible sigh of relief dropped when you realized he wasn’t aware of the tangible distraction you felt around him but rather centered the strange enhancement of color on your cheeks. You assured yourself that it was only you manifesting the accusation against yourself, so you tried gaslighting him into thinking he was the drama instead: “I’m fine, really. Are you sure it’s not you who is seeing things?”

“Huh? But your face wasn’t red like this earlier, I swear I’m not mistaken.”

Unfortunately for you, So Mun’s intelligence ran in his family. So you must’ve been in your sweet dream to expect a detectives’ son would be fooled by such a half-assed reason.

Each motion of yours was helplessly cornered like a prey waiting to be demolished under his unceasing focus, especially when two of you were the only ones in the room right now, all alone and suspicious: “Hold up, if you’re not sick… why are you blushing?”

Your mouth was clenched shut. Even the tiniest sound pealed loudly in the current confined space, reflecting your nervous gulp as clear as day.

So Mun called your name again after the short pause, sounding even gentler than how he usually spoke in that… ludicrously charming voice of his: “Y/n.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me…” The way he drew the last syllable out slightly longer hurled a thud into your chest, sparking your diffidence. You heaved your eyes to meet his own only to regret your decision immediately as you were welcomed by a cunning smile he tried hard to suppress: “...you’re getting shy?”

You squinted and looked down, knowing damn well you, in fact, were shy as fuck: “No. Why would I be?”

“Yes, you are, you can’t see yourself right now but I can, you’re blushing all over the place. You were fine just now, were you not? Why suddenly get shy?” He closely beheld your reaction, allowing a grin to plaster as the traitorous shade of pink on your cheeks evidently declared how you truly felt: “Is it because of me?”

“Because of you?” Knowing he had successfully caught you red-handed, you tried the hardest to play it off cool with a sassy eye roll while hanging the tape just a couple of millimeters away from the width of his shoulders: “Where did you even get that from?

“From the way you act?”

“Dear customer, you’re delusional.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are.”

Instinctively holding your breath, you enclosed the measuring tape around So Mun’s chest with great caution, arduously ignoring how you could already tell his physique was too attractively in shape under that black compression shirt. Every time he inhaled and exhaled, the tape stretched ever so slightly then loosened after the relief— Fuck, okay, stop.

“Am I really delusional or are your hands shaking right there?”

This little shi– did not just call you out like that.

His voice vibrated down from the top of your head, bordering between intentional cockiness and unintentional flirtatiousness. You never discerned that your fingers had grown to tremor abstractedly due to how faint the movement was, yet he could easily detect your restlessness just from a few playful glimpses. Never in your life you felt this terribly exposed in front of someone. It was like he could see right through you like a piece of glass.

“You…” Shamefulness followed you like your own shadow. The immense heat on your cheeks was no longer pleasant to say the least: “Stop talking. Just let me get this done.”

On the other hand, So Mun, whether or not had progressed to be fond of your painfully flustered self, mindlessly dropped the ultimate bomb on you: “Do you like me?”

You swore you saw your heart fly out and wheel around the ceiling in horror.

If the tape measure wasn’t made of plastic, it would’ve been torn in half between your violent grip. You bit the inside of your cheek timidly and landed a weak punch on his shoulder. Agitation and embarrassment blanketed your half-whisper: “Just… be quiet, Mun.”

“Fine, fine, I was just joking. I’ve never seen you get this red before and…” So Mun laughed softly, though the laughter quickly dissolved into quietude as he caught a menacing glare from you: “Guess I got carried away, my bad.”

Speaking of the truth, he didn’t mean any harm rather than just breezy teasing. It was you and your hormonal, backstabbing blush that created the whole awkward situation. You shifted your ruler down and laced it around his waistline, half of the frustration in your tone replaced with sheepishness: “You sure did have a lot of fun, didn’t you?”

“But you’re so cute like this… ” His chuckle brightened the air. Even though you weren't in the mood to appreciate the random compliment, just the word “cute” itself was enough to awaken those dormant flowers in your stomach and rush them into vigorously blossoming like it was a sunny spring day.

You fought back a pout from arising, not sure if you should continue putting up an annoyed act. But before you could respond, your entire body froze as his voice suddenly appeared to be alarmingly close to your ear, tender like a passing cloud except it could facilely have you where he wanted if he ever wanted to.

“C’mon, don’t lower your head, I’ll stop pointing your blush out.”

Despite your concentration still being attached to his waist as you read the measured number, his toned abdominal muscles that somewhat divulged themselves under the thin compression shirt were nowhere near your zone of attention. Your nail dug into the tape, feeling your composure slowly fracture like a dainty little eggshell ready to be crushed. Timidity dispersed as uncontrollably as a broken dam when So Mun’s warm breath fanned your skin.

It didn’t seem like he had a single clue as to how his gesture—purely coming from curiosity—tremendously affected you. The more he dipped his head and leaned closer to yours, the louder you heard your own heartbeat roaring.

You turned away to hide how vulnerability had completely enveloped your face. A tiny crack echoed in your voice as you stuttered, trying to break free from his oblivious stare: “So– So Mun…”

“Hm?” The fire under your skin rapidly magnified within just a blink of an eye, to the point you were afraid it would explode, yet he still didn’t catch on to the silent plea in the way you called his name, instead taking it as a warning that you were getting exasperated: “Don’t be mad at me, I promise I’ll be quiet.”

Even the sketches and doodles hung on the wall avowedly held their breath as if acknowledging the hide-and-seek negotiation unfolding before them. You clutched your eyelids closed and your body stiffened, dodging his gaze like dodging bullets.

One sense had shut down, offering a chance for other senses to intensify. As So Mun leaned down searching for your face, the minty and earthy note of his shampoo washed over your nostrils, delightfully freshened from the vague men's cologne you smelled first stepping into the room.

His breath ignited on your awfully reddened ear, goosebumps traveling up your spine while his scent created an intoxicating merge into your source of oxygen: “Let me see your face, will you?”

Suddenly, pressing under your chin were warm fingers that had calloused up from life journeys, determined yet tender and careful enough not to startle you as he tried to lift your chin up:

“Come on, I don’t bite.”

“What takes you kiddos so lon— Oh my, are you two kissing?”

From the inside of So Mun’s room, you could already hear noises of flabbergastation ringing like afterschool bells due to the exclamation.

You and So Mun jumped away from each other like getting struck by electricity as soon as you saw Motak’s face appear behind the door’s window, amusement wafting in the way he looked at you two. You almost choked to death in your own panic, words collapsing when they reached your mouth: “It’s not what it looks like!! We’re just— We— I’m just taking his measurements!”

“Then why are your faces so close together?” Motak moved aside for you to storm out of the tension-filling room, raising his brows with great gaiety when So Mun followed your way out like a puppy. The tape measure was grasped brutally in your palm, hoping to be counted as evidence. But catching the wide grin that had seemingly been engraved on the older man’s lips, you doubted he’d buy your excuses.

“Wait, so you were about to kiss and I interrupted? Damn, sorry lovebirds.”

“No! It’s— we really did not…” Footsteps clouded the hallway, the whole team was quick to be summoned for the delicious tea. Out of the blue you lost all nerves to face them, your explanation slowly dissipated into a nonverbal ‘yes’ to the accusation with how much speechlessness you assembled.

Hana tilted her focus at your skin’s crimson tint, her hidden protectiveness loomed out of armor and she threateningly gave the origin of your blush a good nudge: “Yah So Mun-ah, why is Y/n’s face so red? What did you do to her?!”

Gazes launched over the man of the moment with suspicion, making him hold his hands up in defense: “What do you mean, noona? I swear I didn’t do anything!”

He turned to you for confirmation, but your exchange of looks was impeded when Ms. Chu walked over to wrap her motherly hands around you, cooing with adoration and happiness as if she'd just listened to your wedding vows: “Oh dear, I knew it from the start you two would make such a cute couple. I’m so happy for you my babies.”

You swallowed heavily: “But we’re not—”

“I can’t believe these two have made it this far, even faster than us…” The chairman ignored So Mun’s refuting head shake (as well as Ms. Chu’s side eye), giving both of you a thumbs up: “Right, Chu-yeosa?”

“Don’t bring me into this.”

From the other side, Jeokbong engulfed So Mun in a side hug and patted his back pridefully: “I’m proud of you, very proud, So Mun-ah. We raised you so well, even getting a girlfriend before your hyung.”

“Hyung, listen to me—”

“Our So Munie, I never knew you had that in you, hm? Now you punk got the team’s stylist all to yourself.” Your beloved found-fam didn’t give you any opportunities to prove yourself innocent. Motak elbowed So Mun playfully with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The more he talked, the more gasoline was poured into the flame of your embarrassment: “Anyone surely gets bolder near a pretty girl, right?”

Hana took a sip of her Milkis: “Isn’t it supposed to be the opposite?”

“Everyone, hold on a second.” You spoke up, almost sounding desperate: “ So Mun and I have nothing to do with each other, this is just a misunderstanding.”

Pausing shortly after your clarification, you looked over at him in search of a helping hand: “Right?”

“Huh– yeah, right. We… Y/n is right. Plus, we’ve only met not long ago, how can anything develop between us this quickly?” So Mun hastily nodded his head. Both of you took turns clearing up the affair:

“Exactly, he’s right.”

The hallway seemed to hold time in place, slowly absorbing your explanation as amused stares remained affixed to you and him.

The chairman quirked his eyebrows up: “So nothing, huh? More like nothing yet.”

“Let’s see how long you can keep denying.” You inwardly facepalmed yourself, your ears burning ferociously pink as Motak shot you a knowing smile. Levity once again suffused the air when you caught him leaning into Ms. Chu’s ear and whispering; both of them then snickered loud enough for you to hear: “I bet a month.”

“I’m serious, we’re not gonna—”

“Oh, did I say something?”

Hana casually waved her hand in dissent, not even attempting to stop a half-smile from permeating her gorgeous face: “I bet longer. Look at how much they already lost their cognition just from being in the same room, they’re hopeless.”

Jeokbong briskly chimed in: “Like how Ms. Chu and the chairman are?”

“What did you say?!”

Rambunctious laughter followed the sight of Ms. Chu smacking Jeokbong on the back. It was pure chaos, but not in a bad way.

A chuckle managed to slip through your lips. The awkwardness was no longer bothersome but rather narrowed down into a silly feeling in your chest. You cast a glance at your assumed partner, coincidentally locking eyes with one another as his attention had also rested on you since forever.

You spotted a trace of rosiness sprinted across So Mun’s cheeks, perhaps it had unwittingly blossomed when you were still committed to clearing up the dating scandal. And he smiled—one that was sheepish but sweet nonetheless, one that sent you into a hall of chaotically winging butterflies. Unspoken words lingered in the air, but you didn't mind them.

If luck would have it, this could be the start of something incredible. But that’s only the matter of the upcoming future, right now?

You just figured out you’ve deadass forgotten all of the measurements you took of So Mun…

[Tag List]✿⌦ @slytherinshua (feel free to notify me if you want to be on the tag list)

Lol i tried making it as spicy as “kiss and makeup” since the request asked for suggestive but us and Mun've only met for a short period of time i didnt know if we should kiss (yet). Hope this is okay @acupnoodle thank you for the cute idea ily ♡

#the uncanny counter x reader #the uncanny counter #uncanny counter #so mun #so mun x reader #do hana #ga mo tak #chu mae ok #choi jang mul #na jeok bong #kdrama #kdrama x reader #pookie please come home 🏠

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pyr0man1c · 5 months ago

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I’m using you as an excuse to rant about it. You are my sacrifice. Bugza.

Spoiler warning

Obey Me! Shall we date? Is a mobile otome game and anime were the MC (you, the player) gets chosen to be a human exchange student for RAD (Royal Academy of Diavolo) where you are taken down to the Devildom (hell) but you end up stuck as a small pink sheep due to not being used to the demon realm.

You were brought to the demon realm to be a human representative of the human world, to help make peace between worlds, being the celestial realm, human world, and Devildom.

You are introduced to the character Diavolo, the Prince of Devildom and heir to the throne, the Avatar of Pride, Lucifer, is introduced as Diavolo’s right hand man.

Lucifer puts you in the care of his younger brother and Second oldest, Avatar of Greed, Mammon, Lucifer giving you a D.D.D (Diavolo’s Devildom Device) which is the human world equivalent to a regular cell phone.

You are told to call Mammon to inform him of his role as your guide, where he very happily says “no” and only agrees once Lucifer starts counting down from 3, Mammon being scared of his brother Lucifer.

You are made to live in the HoL (House of Lamentation) with the 7 deadly sins/Avatars.

Avatar of Pride, Lucifer.

Avatar of Greed, Mammon.

Avatar of Envy, Leviathan.

Avatar of Wrath, Satan.

Avatar of Lust, Asmodeus.

Avatar of Gluttony, Beelzebub.

Avatar of Sloth, Belphegor.

Lucifer is obviously prideful and the strictest of his brothers, being the leader of the HoL. He doesn’t admit he is in the wrong or take anything from anyone to keep his pride. He is the owner of the three headed dog Cerberus after managing to tame him. His banner animal is a Peacock

(I fucking love male peacocks their so amazingly stupid)

Mammon is a greedy demon who will steal and get himself in trouble just to fill his desires for riches and valuables, he is a tsundere that refuses to admit he cares for MC, calling himself their “First man.” His banner animal is a crow.

Leviathan is a self deprecating shut-in otaku, refusing to listen to “normies” including MC. He adores the character Ruri-Chan, having many anime and game figures around his room. He had a pet snake named Henry 1.0 named after a character from his favorite book series, Tale of The 7 Lords, before he lost the snake, replacing it with a fish he named Henry 2.0. He is the admirable of hells navy and can summon Lotan. His banner animal is a snake.

Satan is the book worm 4th born who loves cats and reading, he hates Lucifer and hates when people mistake him for Lucifer and when they’re compared. Satan was born after Lucifer tore off his own wings out of wrath against god for the death of Lilith, leading to only two pairs of wings to grow back while the last pair formed Satan, made from Lucifer’s wrath and hatred, even having some of Lucifer’s memories from the celestial war. His banner animal is a unicorn. (I giggle at this)

Asmodeus is the narcissistic and sexual brother, always bragging about his looks and how he’s the prettiest person to exist, saying he looks better than someone after complimenting them. It is revealed that he is insecure about being a demon, missing his beautiful white wings and angelic aura, now finding disgust in his demon form. In later seasons he admits he loves MC as much as himself. His banner animal is a scorpion.

Beelzebub is the always hungry older twin, he is constantly raiding the kitchen and anywhere for food, never being able to satiate his hunger. (Personally) he is one of the nicest and caring brothers, talking a lot about how he misses his brother who is said to be in the human world, when he’s actually locked in the attic by Lucifer for disobeying Diavolo. He regrets the death of Lilith, after he tried to save Belphegor but Lilith getting killed in the process, blaming himself for it. His banner animal is a fly.

Belphegor is the cat napping younger twin, constantly sleeping and napping, he was locked in the attic by Lucifer for disobeying Diavolo, hating the humans and blaming humans for Lilith death, he tries to convince MC that he is a human like us that was trapped by the demons but we find out that’s a lie and he’s actually a demon, he gets us to help him out by making pacts with his brothers, he thanks us by asking to give us a hug, where he strangles us to death before we are brought back to life. His banner animal is a cow. (I accidentally got lesson 16 spoiled to me)

We are told to make pacts with the brothers by Belphie to get him out.

We make a pact in order with:

Mammon

Leviathan

Beelzebub

Asmodeus

Satan

And then Lucifer.

Lucifer is the most difficult for us to get, him refusing to make one with us due to thinking we have an ulterior motive (we do) but give a different excuse to why we want a pact, saying we want to prove our worth to him as the human exchange student.

Mammon is one you make the quickest. Ofc.

The Royals.

The royals consist of Lord Diavolo and Barbatos.

Diavolo is the demon prince and heir to the throne of Devildom, Diavolo is serious when he needs to but is a very nice and overall lighthearted character. He does not have a good relationship with his father, the current king of Devildom but is in a deep sleep, his son Diavolo taking his role while still Prince. His mother died while giving birth to him, and he thinks it’s possibly why his father was so strict and hard in him, blaming Diavolo for his mothers death.

Barbatos is the royal Butler to Diavolo, being a neat and orderly character, he is known as a the Greatest Pastry Chef, and being very good with tea and being a tea expert, he played a big role in Diavolo’s life, even as a child. Barbatos became Diavolo’s butler after a child Diavolo lured Barbatos into the castle with rare tea leaves, Diavolo saying barbatos couldn’t leave until he agreed to be his butler, Barbatos later said he thought this interaction was adorable. No one knows when Barbatos was born, or how long he’s been around, but he’s been around before the world and Devildom itself. Barbatos would not hesitate to destroy a building over a rat.

The Angels

The angels consist of Simeon and Luke.

Simeon is a very polite and caring Archangel , he is here for the exchange program as a representative for the celestial realm, he doesn’t hate anyone or anything. He is a writer going under the Pen Name Christopher Peugeot. He is a great cook and a mentor for Luke alongside Barbatos.

Luke a young Angel, about 10 in human years, he is the youngest of the group (except for MC he’s been around for centuries maturity wise tho he’s young) he doesn’t like demons especially Lucifer, but really likes Barbatos, being taught by him in baking and being mentored by him. Hes constantly being made fun of by the demon brothers, specifically Lucifer, and Mammon, having the nicknames, “Chihuahua”, “Fido”, and “Dog” making him very irritated whenever he’s called them.

The Sorcerer

There’s only one sorcerer, being Solomon.

Solomon is a representative of the human world, he’s a very powerful sorcerer, having 72 pacts with demons, including Barbatos. Barbatos holds a grudge throughout Obey Me! Nightbringer, which the sorcerer doesn’t even remember why, it is later revealed that Barbatos was upset he was placed 8th on Solomon’s pact list, being petty about it and hating Solomon (Drama queen Barbie). Despite Solomon being a skilled sorcerer and great with potions and mixing ingredients, this does not translate in his cooking abilities, often making his food a biohazard for anyone to consume and a danger for botulism, but he does not realize and thinks his food is fine.

The Human

You are the human, the MC, that little sheep.

You were brought to Devildom as the second human exchange student for the program, your avatar was made a sheep and the game uses they/them pronouns to make the game as inclusive to any player. You are the Main Character.

Anyways that’s what happens when you say you don’t know what my interest is about @blackoutbugza this is the consequences of your words. Thanks for a reason to rant tho:)

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 2 years ago

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The Silver Dragon (21/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 2271

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Arianwyn meets Aemond in the Godswood.

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96 @henriettadreaming @multiple-fandoms-girl @gyuxmilk

Author's Note: This chapter has some of the first writing I ever did for this fic! The last chapter had a couple lines, but this is where Aemond and Aria's (I really need an official ship name for them) story began. I had to make some changes, as the plot did evolve on its own once I started from the beginning, but the spirit of my initial burst of inspiration is still here.

Beneath the Weirwood Tree

“Marry me.”

Arianwyn’s heart stopped.

“What did you say?” she asked, the question hardly louder than a sigh.

Aemond swallowed and dropped her chin. Flustered, he turned his rapidly blinking eye away from her as he tried to compose himself.

Years ago, in this very spot, she had told him how she feared being married. How she did not want to return to a strange castle with a strange man – a man who may mistreat her.

He knew now that was not all she feared.

She was afraid she would meet the same fate as her mother. Rhea Royce had married a strange man, and it cost her not only her happiness and reputation, but her life.

Throughout their childhood, Aemond had always thought that Arianwyn’s love of legends and fairy tales came from the sincere, romantic belief that her life would be as full of magic and wonder as the stories they read. After all, she had taken to calling herself the “girl in the tower” when she was first confined on Dragonstone. But all along, she had been reading for the same reason as him: to escape from the confines of their grim realities, if even for a moment.

For the precious minutes they spent reading those hallowed words, Aemond was not a forgotten second son whose fate was limited to playing a small part in the grand tales of his more important siblings, but a valiant prince destined for greatness. He was not the sinister one-eyed monster he knew the court and smallfolk thought him to be, but an honorable knight who desired only peace – for his people, for himself, and for his princess.

In the world of their stories, Arianwyn was not a child borne of hatred, eternally haunted by the sins of her father, but the noble daughter of two ancient bloodlines fated to rule her people with kindness and grace. She was not a powerless girl locked in a tower, living in dread of what her future would bring, but a woman able to determine her own fate, and find her true love.

Arianwyn deserved her fairy tale. And though Aemond knew he could not give it to her, he could at least free her from Daemon’s grasp.

He turned back to her. “If you marry me, you will no longer belong to your father.”

“I would belong to you,” Her face was twisted with confusion as her heart resumed its hammering. But it didn’t feel like rage. Her pulse raced, yes, but it carried an exhilarating chill through her body.

Yes,” Aemond breathed, “but I could never command you, Aria. I would never even try. You know that. In all the ways that truly matter, you would be free.”

His face was as open as she had ever seen, his beautiful eye almost pleading, and she knew he didn’t just want this for her.

But now was not the time to confront that look or what it meant. Her mind was racing too fast to acknowledge that her blood was singing in response to his words.

“You would do that for me?” she asked. A Prince’s hand in marriage was one of the most powerful diplomatic tools the Crown had. To marry in secret could have consequences that rippled all the way across the Narrow Sea, not to mention how Daemon would react.

He looked almost hurt that she would ask. Again, he enveloped her hand with his, bringing the other up to brush the tears from her cheeks.

“I would do anything for you, Arianwyn,” he whispered.

The urge to kiss him nearly overwhelmed her. But she summoned all her remaining strength to hold herself back. If his plan worked, she would have the rest of their lives to kiss him as much as she wanted.

Squeezing his hand, she gave her answer. “Then I will happily marry you, Prince Aemond.”

Raising a prayer of thanks to each face of the Seven, Aemond pulled Arianwyn into his chest in an embrace so tight he was sure she would feel his heart pounding. But he did not care. Every wish he had ever made was about to come true.

“My Prince?” Ser Criston’s voice broke them apart. Thankfully, the Kingsguard ignored the impropriety of their embrace, only concerned with their safety. “Is the Lady alright?”

“I’m perfectly well,” she replied, “thank you, Ser.”

Again, she had forgotten the twin trails of blood running down her throat and the beginnings of bruises lining her jaw. But Aemond had not.

“Send a man to fetch Grand Maester Orwyle,” he commanded, lacing his fingers through Arianwyn’s protectively. “And another for Brynna Taler. Have them meet us in the Sept. The rest of you will accompany us to Septon Eustace’s chambers.”

Cole glanced at their held hands and the flush on both their faces. “May I ask for what purpose, my Prince?”

Aemond raised his chin as he answered, challenging the knight to object. “The Lady Arianwyn and I are to be married this night.”

Rather than raise any objection or even question why they were doing this in secret, Cole only smiled and bowed his head. “Of course, my Prince. And may I be the first to offer my sincere congratulations.”

“Ser Criston?” Arianwyn called as he turned away to gather the men. “Not the Sept. The Godswood, and the Weirwood tree.”

Aemond looked down at her with a questioning gaze, and she offered him a thoughtful, sweet smile. “I think it would be wise for us to seek the blessing of as many gods as possible, don’t you?”

They would certainly need all the protection they could manage when Daemon found out. Aemond nodded to her, then to Ser Criston. “The Godswood,” he affirmed.

By the time they reached Eustace’s door, Aemond and Arianwyn were both gasping for breath. Though they were accompanied by Ser Criston and ten Runestone guards, they still ran through the Keep for fear of Daemon finding them before they had the protection of their vows.

Aemond pounded on the door, fully aware that the old man was likely deep in sleep. After a moment, the Septon emerged, tired and incredulous.

“What could you possibly want from me at this hour, Prince Aemond?” he asked, though his eyes widened with nervousness when he beheld the near dozen guards surrounding them.

“I need you to marry us,” Aemond replied, his grip on Arianwyn’s hand firm. “Now.”

At first, Eustace looked like the victim of an elaborate prank. Though as Aemond explained his plan, his dark eyes gained a grim clarity.

The Septon sighed, fixing the pair before him with a probing gaze. “You realize that to do this without the permission of the King, or Prince Daemon, would put me in mortal danger?”

“We understand,” Arianwyn said, gripping Aemond’s hand as if her life depended on it. “But we wouldn’t ask this of you if we weren’t desperate.”

Eustace looked at their clasped hands and the wounds on Arianwyn’s neck. “Desperate,” where her father was concerned could be equally dangerous as defying the King. With a sigh leaned back into his quarters, pulling his ceremonial robes off their hook.

“We shall require a cloak.”

The full moon set the leaves of the Godswood ablaze with silver as the ceremony began. Arianwyn lingered outside the entrance to the Heart Tree courtyard, Orwyle tending to her wounds while Brynna dabbed at the bloodstains on her dress. Aemond stood before the giant Weirwood with Eustace while the Septon recited the traditional prayers.

Was she really doing this? Marrying in secret in the middle of the night? Shackling herself to one man simply to be free of another?

But this wasn’t just any man. She was not being sold to a stranger, some second son she barely knew, or an old man seeking to use her only for her noble womb.

This was Aemond.

The person in the world she knew better than anyone or anything. She had known him almost her whole life. This was a man she had grown up with, played with, and studied with.

They had discovered and chased their passions together. Spending countless hours together, in the library, in her rooms, and in the Dragonpit.

He had been there the first time she rode Emrys, and she when he claimed Vhagar.

When her father ripped her away to Dragonstone, he had written to her every day, even while healing from the loss of his eye.

It was he who had held her and wiped her tears that very night after her father had come so close to killing her.

This was the man she loved, though it had taken her years admit it.

She loved him. With every beat of her heart and breath in her lungs, she loved him.

It had been that love that had kept her alive on Dragonstone. That fed the wild hope that one day she would see him again, and they would be together until the end of their days. Along with his beautiful letters, that hope had sustained her.

But even before they were separated, she had loved him. Why else would she have gone with him to claim Vhagar? What else but love would have made her fool enough to approach such a massive beast? Could anything else have made her heart soar to the heavens themselves when she watched him finally fulfill a lifelong dream?

All her life, Aemond was there. Alicent once told her that when they first met as babes, they had smiled when they saw each other. Had they somehow known, even then, what they were destined for?

Arianwyn felt like a fool for being so blind for so long. Had she known the true identity of her feelings, she would have fought harder for him. She never would have allowed them to be torn apart.

“Bride, approach.” Eustace’s voice ripped her from her thoughts.

Brynna groaned, “But I have not fixed your hair!”

“That’s alright,” Arianwyn said with a smile for her oldest companion. Though this was not how she imagined her wedding, she was exceedingly grateful for Brynna’s presence. “I believe Aemond likes my hair just the way it is.”

With a light kiss to the girl’s forehead, Brynna stepped aside, allowing her to step forward and take Ser Criston Cole’s hand as he led her into the heart of the Godswood.

Arianwyn tried in vain to calm her racing heart as she climbed to the base of the Heart Tree. She wore no veil, so there was nothing to hide her flush as she faced Aemond.

Seeing her nervousness, he reached out a hand to take hers before remembering himself and pulling it back. Eustace spied the movement and smirked as he instructed Aemond, “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

It was a borrowed cloak. White, as her bride dress should have been. Ser Criston Cole had offered it without prompting and gave it with his blessing.

Now, Arianwyn gazed into Aemond’s violet eye as he swept the cloak around her shoulders, taking an extra moment to make sure her hair lay just right upon the fabric, the silver curls and white cloak aglow in the light of the full moon. She could find no trace of nervousness on his face, only the slight edge of a smile on his lips. It began to reflect on her own before she could help herself.

Eustace continued. “I stand here in the sight of the gods to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Now with the proper cue, Aemond took her hand, as he had done so many times that night and in all the years before. But this time was different. His hand was so warm against the chill of the air, warmer even than the cloak he had put around her. This time, Arianwyn could not help but notice the way his hand fit perfectly on hers.

The Archmaester began wrapping a ribbon around their joined hands. “Let it be known that Arianwyn of Houses Targaryen and Royce, and Aemond of Houses Targaryen and Hightower are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.” A dangerous flash ran through Aemond’s face at the words, though it faded as fast as it appeared.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.” Orwyle let the ribbon unwind and fall to the grass below them. “Look upon each other and say the words.”

One violet eye met a shining pair of silver, and Aemond and Arianwyn spoke as one.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger.”

“I am hers, and she is mine.”

“I am his, and he is mine.”

“From this day until the end of my days.”

They were ritual words, spoken by brides and grooms in Westeros for hundreds of years. But still, they had never rung so true as on this night beneath the Heart Tree in the Godswood of Kings.

Arianwyn did not know what the morning would bring. Whether she would remain here or be taken back across the Blackwater against her will. But it did not matter anymore. She looked at the determination and love on her husband’s face, and she was not afraid.

Dragonstone was not her home; of that she was certain. But neither was the Red Keep nor Runestone her home. Not even the library she loved so dearly was her home.

Aemond was.

Next Chapter

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rougepancake · 2 years ago

Text

Long forgotten

Ajax (Tartaglia/Childe) x Gn!Adeptus!Reader

A/N: Not proofread. Just a sweet little thingy my brain cell came up with. Don’t read if you have a fear of Ed Sheeran 😉. Mentions of minor character death. (also here’s a little soundtrack for you-)

Summary: Deep in Jueyun Karst far away from the modern world, there lives a mysterious adeptus. A beautiful creature that has been long forgotten by the residents of Liyue, yet there is one who remembers.

The first time you had encountered Ajax was when he placed an offering at the entrance to your abode. You had been sitting on a nearby cliff top and watched him place the dish on the steps. The man said nothing and just bowed his head down in a silent prayer, offering his sins up to you shamelessly.

He stayed there for quite some time, probably enjoying the peaceful silence the area around him provided. You had continued to watch him eat a meal he brought for himself, occasionally speaking to you, though he didn’t know you were around to listen.

You didn’t think he cared though, because he kept spilling out his secrets one by one, laying them all unto you. And while you did listen to his tales intently, you had many questions that you wanted to ask him. What was a fatui harbinger doing out here in Liyue? How did he come across your lonely little shrine?

With a sigh you watched him leave, allowing you to hop down from your spot and investigate what the ginger had left you.

It was an elegant picnic basket, carrying the only human food you had ever really cared for, Universal Peace. The dish was cooked to perfection, each bite proving to be better than the last, but you found the situation odd.

The last time anyone had ever left you an offering of any sort was three hundred year ago, and the person that had left it didn’t even have the right adeptus, they were looking for the great Mountain Shaper.

When you had finished your meal you noticed that there was a note at the bottom of the basket, written with neat, beautiful handwriting. You had expected the letter to be addressed to someone like Cloud Retainer, but your name was clearly written on it. It read,

“Dearest Wish Granter,

You are probably confused, which is indeed fair. I found your name mentioned quite a bit in a book that dates back to when Liyue was first founded by the Geo Archon. I had never heard your name mentioned before and was very curious as to why, so I wound up doing my own research and finding you all the way out here. Though I’m sure we’ll never meet in person, I hope I can remind Liyue of your existence. Plus I just find it great to have someone listen to me for once, so I appreciate you sitting around and listening to my thoughts. Maybe one day the people of Liyue will tell both our stories. And if not mine, I hope they tell yours for as long as you shall live.

- Anonymous”

You found yourself in awe of the stranger, his wish for you to be remembered bringing tears to your eyes. It was a bitter reminder of why the people of Liyue didn’t speak of you to begin with, a choice that you yourself had made when you were a young adeptus, saying it would be for the best.

You held the note close to your chest and sat in silence until it was dark out. And even after the sun had set you didn’t feel like moving, but you forced yourself to open up the doors to your abode, taking the gifts of Ajax with you.

The second time you encountered Ajax was much unlike the first. You saw him arrive once again, setting down yet another elegant picnic basket before praying to you. You found yourself so curious and anxious to meet him, so you took on a new form and knelt down beside him, joining him in prayer.

You could feel his eyes on you, making you incredibly nervous since you hadn’t dealt with a mortal in a long time. When you finished your prayer, you looked up at him, smiling softly.

Ajax returned the smile and handed you the picnic basket, saying that you looked incredibly starved.

“But isn’t this an offering for Wish Granter?” You questioned, staring into his blue eyes curiously.

He laughed, placing his hand on his cheek as he observed you. “Is that not who you are? Or am I mistaken?”

You couldn’t help your jaw nearly falling to the ground, which caused Ajax to laugh again. “I suppose I’m not.” He patted your head lightheartedly before leaning back and staring up at the sky.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked sheepishly, joining him in his cloud watching.

“Of course, Wish Granter. Who would I be to deny an adeptus of asking a question?” His tone was so sweet that it sent you back to the days of your adeptal youth, when you were still young and reckless.

“Why come to me? If I have been forgotten by the people of Liyue, then why come and find me?” With a sigh you looked away, your ears burning with embarrassment and your heart aching with confusion. You grabbed your clothing and with a deep breath, reverted back to your true form, hoping to not frighten your new friend.

Ajax watched you closely, observing the horns that appeared on your head and the tail that flowed from behind you. You were a beautiful creature, elegant and pure. It was evident that you hadn’t interacted with a human in a long time, but he didn’t care. He was awestruck by your form, with how gracefully you moved and how humble you seemed. It was perfect.

You were perfect.

“In the book that I was reading, it named each adeptus’ grand abilities, and yours was being able to grant wishes. I got curious, so I came to find you, even though I don’t really have a wish for you do grant.” He laughed nervously, shrugging off the question.

“I’m glad you don’t have a wish,” you smiled, letting out a sigh before continuing with your story. “In the past, people would come to me with wishes and I would grant them with my power, but whenever they came to me, I had the misfortune of telling them that in order for them to get their wish, they would have to sacrifice something important to them. I don’t know why it’s like that, but it is. I find it incredibly unfair, and it always hurt me to watch them suffer so.”

Ajax listened intently, blushing slightly when you made eye contact with him once more. “You seem like a nice young man, I would really hate to see something bad happen to you because of a wish.” He nervously shifted in his place before you, now avoiding your stare.

He looked back up at the sky and then back at you before rising to his feet. “I’m afraid I must go now, but I will be back, don’t worry.” He smiled, helping you to your feet.

“W-wait.” You let out a nervous giggle, placing your hands behind your back. “What do I call you?”

“Please, call me Ajax.” He waved goodbye and then disappeared off into Jueyun Carst.

You stood there, holding the vision that was in the center of your chest and stared out into the horizon in awe. You wiped a tear from your eye and thanked Rex Lapis for finally providing you with a friend.

Your anemo vision glowed in the dark, shining through your hand as you clutched it.

For the first time in centuries, you felt a mixture of happiness and hope dwell in your heart.

The third time you encountered Ajax was much more beautiful than the last.

It had been a week or two since you had last physically seen him, but you knew he was still returning because of the various gifts he had left you and the multiple times you had heard him utter your name while praying to you.

You had been two shy to come out since the last time, so you would just sit in your abode and listen to his every word. He would tell you stories of Snezhnaya and the other harbingers. Stories if his family and his younger brother Teucer. Vast and wonderful stories about his travels and the various friends he had made along the way, along with the enemies that followed. You listened to all of it.

There was something about every time he came to visit you that made you giddy like a child who during the Lantern Rite. You couldn’t help the way you smiled when he told jokes, or cry when he spoke of his childhood. He truly made you feel like a young adeptus again, and you loved it.

“Wish Granter! I’ve returned!” Ajax smiled, knowing that you weren’t likely to show yourself, but still happy to feel your presence.

“That’s wonderful!” He turned around at the sound of your voice, his eyes lighting up when he spotted your smiling face. “What stories do you have for me today?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you would be willing to share some stories with me instead.” You nodded enthusiastically and walked over to where he was sitting.

“Of course I can, now what would you like to hear?” You sat beside him, resting your hands in your lap as you waited for a response.

“Could you tell me why Liyue doesn’t celebrate you?” His question was genuine, and you could tell he meant no harm by it, but it still caused your smile to falter slightly.

“Yes, but I’ll warn you that this story does not have a happy undertone.” You made sure you were comfortable before speaking again, making sure it wasn’t obvious that you were stalling.

“Long ago, there were many adepti. Each adeptus had their own strengths and weaknesses, and each was given a godlike power. They all had their own domains along with specialties. During the time of the adepti, the world was truly a beautiful place. However, during the archon war, many adepti were lost in battle, including one of my very good friends, Sea Gazer.

He was slain before my own eyes, and in a frenzy, I found myself fighting harder than I could ever possibly imagine. But I was foolish, and upon unleashing my powers carelessly, I had killed innocent people. After that, I banished myself to Jueyun Carst, refusing to hear out anyone. The fear that was in their eyes as they watched my outburst will be forever ingrained in my memory, along with their screams.

In time I found myself losing followers until I no longer had any. The people that had once loved me so had turned to other adepti and soon forgot about me. The villages that I used to watch over and visit regularly ceased to have as much life as they once did, because they lived in fear of the adeptus who murdered innocent people. I miss them greatly, but there is no way now that I can return to a village that sees me as a stranger.”

You shook your head, wiping a tear off your cheek with slight resentment. “And that is why Liyue no longer celebrates my name, because I made myself forgettable.”

You sighed, looking up at Ajax with the hope that he wouldn’t judge you, but he just sat there in silence, still processing your story.

Nervously, you shifted in your spot, doing your best to fight the urge to run away and hide in your domain.

“You are very brave for sharing your story with me.” He admitted, his tone much more serious than you would have expected. To your surprise, he reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it gently as he looked into your eyes. “Your situation reminds me much of my own, which only makes me feel sorry that a beautiful creature like you would have to experience such things.”

Ajax sighed, breaking eye contact as he mumbled something about how cruel the world is. “How long has it been since you’ve last spoken to Rex Lapis?”

“Since that day. I don’t even know if he would speak to me now.” You admitted, blushing when you felt Ajax’s thumb brush over the back of your hand softly.

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself.” Ajax’s words made you stiffen. “I’m sure the God of Contracts would be forgiving of you. If anything, I think he would be happy to see you again.”

A wistful smile graced your lips as you thought about seeing your fellow adepti again. “I hope your right. Maybe some day I’ll meet them again.” Your wistful smile turned into a bright one, reminding Ajax that you were a pure being despite your history.

“Wish Granter-“

“Please,” you placed your hand on top of his. “Call me Y/N, it’s what all my friends used to call me, so it’d be unfair to not let you do the same.”

Ajax smiled, “Y/N… I am truly glad that you and I met. I’ll make sure to tell everyone in Liyue of the wonderful adeptus Wish Granter.”

“Thank you, Ajax. I’m happy that you found me.”

He pulled you into a hug. It was a strange gesture for the both of you, so it was quite awkward, but it was incredibly comforting.

It only made your hopeful happiness grow.

It was at the Lantern Rite that you decided to leave the beautiful Jueyun Carst and be seen in Liyue once again. You were incredibly nervous, but were also excited to meet up with Ajax to enjoy the beautiful atmosphere together.

You had yet to run into anyone who recognized you, which you were thankful for. It allowed you some peace still to avoid your problems on a beautiful night like this.

When you reached the Northland Bank, you were greeted with the smiling face of Ajax, who entertained his arm with yours as you walked together.

“It’s been so long since I’ve experienced something like this.” You smiled, looking around with a giant smile on your lips. “Thank you for convincing me to come out here.”

“No problem! I’m just glad you decided to come!” Ajax returned your smile and continued to walk around the well lit Liyue Harbor with you. “Though, there is someone I would like you to meet. If you’re okay with it of course.”

“Yes yes, I would love to meet them!” Ajax chuckled at your enthusiasm as he led you to a nearby tea house.

There you saw a man with long black hair fading into a bronze color sitting at a table enjoying a cup of tea. You felt a sense of familiarity, but couldn’t put your finger on it. You actually found it to be odd how closely he resembled a face of your past.

“Y/N, this is Mr. Zhongli, the head of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Mr. Zhongli, this is my good friend Y/N, I’m sure the two of you will get along well.” He sat down beside Zhongli as you stood there, staring at the man with wide eyes.

“M-Mor-“

“Oh my, I’m sorry you two but something has just come up at the Northland Bank, I’ll be back shortly! Mr, Zhongli, I hope you’ll keep Y/N here great company!” Ajax quickly waved goodbye and began speed walking in the direction of the Northland Bank, leaving you alone with Zhongli.

“Y/N. It’s been so long,” Zhongli smiled softly, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Morax, I-“ You stopped, looking away. “I’m so sorry… it’s just- I didn’t know what to do…. And I swear I didn’t know….” You were talking so fast that all your words began to sound like one jumbled mess, but thankfully Zhongli understood you.

“None of that matters now, and it didn’t matter to begin with. All that matters is that you’re still alive and well after so long. Plus, I’m sure the other adepti would be glad to see you again.” Zhongli took another sip of his tea, watching you process his words.

A waitress came over and sat your tea gently onto the table, to which you paid no mind as you were stunned into silence.

“S-So… I can return?” You asked, nervously reaching out for your tea.

“Of course you can Y/N.”

In that moment, you felt a rush of every emotion known to man. It was all incredibly overwhelming and you didn’t know how to react to this. So you just sat there, your silence saying all.

“Though I do have one question…” Zhongli said, looking at you with what looked like a smirk. “What’s going on between you and Childe?”

You choked on your tea so hard you thought you were going to die.

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