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blkkizzat · 7 months ago

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'SINS OF THE FATHER'

PRIEST!NANAMI X READER

✟ the liturgy: (summary) Even the most pious of men succumb to temptation and Father Kento is no exception... especially when it comes to you. (Priest!Nanami POV) ✟ the confession: (tw) dark themes, sacrilege, adultery, blasphemy, jealously, exhibitionism, blackmail/manipulation, heavy biblical references, cunnalingus, fingering, riding dick, shoe fucking, blow jobs, panty sniffing, olfactophilia, dacryphilia, lightly suggested altarboy!yuji (aged-up) x reader, oil tycoon!gojo x reader, suggested mentions of reader x other jjk men, corruption, masturbation and angst as you are literally tormenting this poor priest (lol). ✟ the sins: (wc) 4.1k ✟ the opening rites:(a/n) i grew up catholic (got confirmed too) and went to catholic school but haven't stepped inside a church in literal years. i was honestly surprised how many bible references came so easily from pure memory while writing this.

Sanctified conviction radiates off Father Kento as he approaches the inordinately adorned wood carved pulpit with authority to address his congregation.

Despite the uncomfortable Summer heat there is no lack of attendance, a sea of familiar faces packed into the small town chapel. The buzzing song of cicadas and soft oscillation of the large fan circulating humid air through the church are the only sounds heard as the masses eagerly await his homily.

You were among them of course.

Sitting front and center– a small saccharine smile graced your lips while your doe-like eyes, captivated and attentive, were made even bigger as they raised to the podium to meet his own.

Bible open, Father Kento takes a full breath pause before he finally speaks, his gaze is benevolent yet his voice is firm as it projects over the congregation.

“Dear Brothers and Sisters– Let us reflect on the gospel of First Corinthians Chapter 10 Verse 13…and The Lord says– ‘There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man—”

Oh but you– you were anything but common– and irregardless of any higher standing his status as a clergy member bestowed upon him he was still a man of flesh and blood.

No matter the effort exerted, Father Kento had been unable to keep his eyes from yours during the service. The magnetism of unknown and certainly unholy forces drew him to you time and again without fail.

No beauty in town rivaled yours, not with an angelic countenance that complemented your delicate features so gracefully in your every action.

Yours was a form of divine femininity rivaling that of Venus herself.

If that wasn’t beguiling enough, your honeyed voice and syrupy words had the ability to sway even the most feral of temperaments. Leaving those who heard it at your mercy like a gentle but deadly siren.

“—but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able—”

Is God faithful?

Ironic how you had Father Kento questioning the very foundations of his own faith while simultaneously indoctrinating God’s dogma to his faithful parishioners.

If you were a test he had failed.

Many times.

Even the first man, Adam, had fallen to Eve’s allures and not even the warrior strength of Samson was able to overcome Delilah’s seductions.

Who was he to prevail where the biblical idols had fallen?

What actual grace could God give man against the sensual temptation that he had carved from man’s own rib?

Father Kento had felt forsaken of God’s grace ever since you had approached him after mass to quietly request the rites of confession. He should have refused when you kindly solicited him to perform them in the cooler confines of the secluded rectory over the oven-like heat of a chapel confessional box in summer.

Led astray so effortlessly by your genial charms as you looked to him like a lamb lost and addressed him so meekly as “Father Kento”. He would have just as easily given you access to heaven then if it were in his power.

Yet it was you who had so graciously led him to the gates of Zion— which so conveniently happened to reside in the velvety depths between your thighs.

Consequently, the only sins that were confessed in the rectory that day were the moist squelches of your peach-ripened pussy gushing around his cock and coalescing with the frenzied sounds of hot flesh slapping together in unison.

A child of Lilth incarnate to be sure but you looked so pure and celestial, even in ecstasy.

Hair matted to the sides of your face drenched in sweat while your nimble hands clutched onto his clerical collar. Your eyes filled with such loving devotion and you rode him earnestly as if it was your life’s penance.

Father Kento in turn gives you his absolution by taking you from behind. The swell of your plump rear rippling against his hips and shared fluids splashing onto his hard abdomen feverishly drive him closer to God than he’d ever been.

Yes, he is weak.

But Father Kento held the conviction that not even The Vicar of Christ, the Pope himself would be able to resist the vice grip of your silken cunt as if its true purpose was never to bear life but to wring out the very essence of the soul of man.

He’d fallen prey to a day-walking succubus on hallowed holy grounds.

No– Father Kento was certain if this church had ever truly been blessed as a house of God you would have caught aflame the moment you graced its threshold.

“—but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye are able to bear it’.”

Father Kento concluded the passage. Nonetheless, neither it nor any other doctrine had provided him the solace of escape and nor biblical strength did he receive to endure against his temptations.

There was no resisting you.

There was no escaping you.

For anyone you cast your sights on.

This is exemplified by the obvious effect you have on the young alter boy Yuji.

Barely old enough to be called a man, the youth's entire body flinches whenever you spare a sweet glance in his direction.

Has Yuji’s innocence already been stolen?

Father Kento must quell the inkling of jealousy at the thought lest he stumble over his words and shame himself further.

He was a man in every sense of the word and a man of the cloth, he would not compete for your adulterous affections with his own altar boy.

Even so, Father Kento’s lip does curl in disapproval at the deep flush of guilt on Yuji’s cheeks. Yuji clumsily trips over his own feet, nearly permitting the blessed vessels for the rites of eucharist to fall to the ground.

Harlot! Have you really allowed someone other than himself to bathe in the sins of Jezebel?

Maintaining composure through his sermon, Father Kento reminds himself that an inexperienced youth is no threat.

However it is more than likely Yuji– who normally is so oblivious in nature– had likewise become aware of the wicked exhibition of sacrilege occurring beneath the prayer cloth in your lap at the very hands of your own husband– Satoru Gojo.

“So you may ask where does that leave us as followers of Christ? Temptations lure us into doing, saying or thinking something that does not reflect who we really are as sons and daughters of God.”

Neither you nor your husband were Christ’s children so none of these ideologies applied to either of you.

Nefarious philistines the both of you– godless and immoral.

Although Father Kento was for certain your husband, Oil Tycoon, Satoru Gojo– was the only one whose deeds could put yours to shame.

The white haired devil had descended upon the quiet small town like a thief in the night to greedily capture the first few drops of black gold that surged from the earth before it could even fall to the ground. Quickly buying up land and resources, in less than a fortnight Gojo essentially had control over the entire town– its priest included.

But as he became more wealthy, so did the town and its people. Satoru Gojo built up the town around him to match his own gluttony for opulence, taking the town and its people away from simple old time comforts and into the more complex modern age.

Therefore the man was seen as a saintly savior, rather than the lecherous leech he truly was.

To Father Kento’s credit, if he deserved any at all– he had initially held strong in his faith.

He was not a man tempted by the power that would come from a promotion to bishop if a larger church was built. Nor was he tempted by monetary gain. The treasures he had always held most valuable were only those to be found in God’s kingdom.

Familiar with the tricks masked by flamboyant arrays of grandior, Father Kento’s folly had been his own headstrong vainglory in being a man above the lures of temptation. Thus he failed in recognizing you as the seductive snake in sheep's clothing the cunning tycoon Gojo had sent to be his undoing.

And you had never once failed to unravel him.

Even now Father Kento struggles to keep himself together as you inconspicuously lean against your husband, your head resting gently on his shoulder while the dainty fan you are holding obscures the lower half of your face.

What appears as an innocuous attempt to halt the perspiration rolling from your nape into your heaving bosom is merely a front to hide the sinful ‘o’ your cherry lips form.

Your chest softly heaves although your labored breaths aren’t from the humid heat shrouding the church– but the increasing warmth dampening in your loins. All which had been provoked by your husband slipping two fingers through the buttons of your thin sundress and into your pussy, lightly teasing its gooey folds. Gojo’s movements are mostly concealed by the cloth but Father Kento can make out the skillful circular motions stroking your spongy bud and causing the sporadic twitch in your knees.

You had writhed similarly under him. You were always far too sensitive.

Fat tears would never fail to pour from your bright eyes when he would latch his mouth onto your sex. You would be his last supper if ever given the choice. If heaven had a flavor it would surely be akin to the taste of your pink candied cunt and he knew of no sweeter treat on earth.

Twas no wonder then how Father Kento easily loses all sense of self when flicking his tongue into your gaping slit. Swirling the appendage within your gummy walls he gluttonously slurps down the steady stream of your flowing nectar.

Your mewls and cries for him are far lovelier than even the song of cherubim. Father Kento has committed them to memory and as such he knows when they reach a certain octave– your pitch so high it's practically soundless– you're nearing your nirvana.

Arriving at your peak you would thread your hands through his blonde locks and thrust your hips forward as if his mouth were salvation itself. Your manicured nails would dig into his scalp to rock his head deeper into your plump pussy. The actions would beckon his tongue to finally give you its mercy by dragging it flat up your folds to suckle and nip at your swollen clit.

You never called on God then.

Nor your husband.

Only Father Kento.

Coincidentally, Father Kento’s gaze locks with Gojo’s for a brief moment and Gojo’s pale lips curl into smirk.

A fleeting look is shared before contact is broke but the message is clear:

Satoru Gojo own’s everything in this town.

Gojo owns your cunt.

Your cunt owns Father Kento.

Therefore by proxy Gojo owns him.

The revelation has Father Kento showing the white of his knuckles from the intensity of his grip on the pulpit podium as you simultaneously release a silent scream brazenly cumming on your husband’s dexterous fingers in the middle of mass.

“The time now is propitious for us all to make a journey of conversion, led by sincere faith to allow ourselves to be confronted with the Gospel. Let us confirm this commitment by sharing in The Body and The Blood of Christ.”

Proceeding with communion the altar boy Yuji stands next to Father Kento holding the tray where the blessed chalice of wine and platter of thin wafers reside as the congregation dutifully exits their rows to receive the eucharist.

As it is the more modern way to receive communion the majority of the congregation choses to place their non-dominant palm up over the other to respectfully receive the host. Yet traditionally, the priest placed the blessed wafer directly on the tongue of the one receiving. This practice was typically only seen by the elderly, the most exceedingly pious and of course— you.

When it is your turn to approach you beam brightly as you and all your beauty seem to float before him.

“The Body of Christ.”

Father Kento raises the host before you.

“Amen.”

You obediently replied.

Like expected your eyes fluttered to close as your pillowy lips parted in order to accept the host directly in your mouth.

God help him, this was the most sacred part of mass but the way your deviant tongue lulls out hot and thick with your saliva pooled on the edge and threatening to spill onto your lips has Father Kento shifting at his post.

You look just as compliant and yearning to receive as when you had been on your knees before him taking his cock in your mouth whole.

Father Kento delicately placed the host in your mouth in a similar fashion as to when he would tap the tip of his bulbous leaking cockhead onto your tongue.

So willing to please you kiss his angry red mushroom tip to appease his cock, swirling your tongue over the tiny hole before puckering it between your lips to greedily suck any drops of pre that dribbled forth as you pumped his base.

You were a tease.

That much was evident both then and now as you extended the tip of your tongue to caress the tip of his finger. A tiny kitten lick, but nevertheless a tingle ran through his cock in remembrance.

“The Blood of Christ.”

Father Kento presents the wine symbolizing the blood before you.

“Amen.”

Again you closed your eyes and allowed Father Kento to press the chalice against your parted lips.

The very picture of amenability, you actually enjoyed when he went rougher on you as a result of your teasing. Father Kento would gather your hair into a tight grip as he not-so-gently rammed his cock past your tonsils and down your throat.

It was unnatural and ungodly for a person to lack any semblance of a gag reflex such as you.

In response you pressed your fingers into his thighs– not as a means of resistance, but to control your own lust as you began shamelessly humping your mound against his leg. You were always desperate to feel any small sensation against your cunt while he ravaged your mouth.

Of course, Father Kento would oblige you and in turn he is rewarded with the heavy moans that would vibrate around his cock as his oxford loafer pushed up into your soaked core. Your white lace lingerie did little to contain your juices and as such Father Kento made use of the fluids leaking from your pussy as polish to shine his shoe.

Having sipped the wine from the chalice you peer up at Father Kento as if seeking his approval.

He gives you a small nod.

Similar to the one he bestows upon you after his seed has filled your stomach and you lick your lips as if it was his essence and not The Blood of Christ that lingered on them.

In the beginning, he had prayed long and hard to forget those sinful images of you that would intrude unwelcomed into his mind.

Yet you always had ways of sucking him back in.

Such as leaving your soiled panties stuffed between his headboard. Father Kento thought he was going mad when even after changing the sheets thrice was he still plagued with your smell.

He should have burned the offensive garment as soon as it was discovered and yet he treated it with reverence as if it were a holy object of salvation. Truly an euphoric experience, on days he couldn’t have you he’d bury his nose into the fabric murmuring blasphemy as he worshiped the very scent of you while jerking his cock.

When Father Kento finally ceased trying to resist you he then had the fleeting thought he could save you. Bring you to God and away from your villainous husband.

But you were no Mary Magdalene, there was no returning you to the flock.

You will not leave your husband who provides you wealth and security. Father Kento is not so enamored he holds illusions that extend beyond his reality. There is nothing Father Kento owns and nothing he can offer you but himself.

The singular consolation of the tragic circumstances is that Father Kento is sure you prefer his touch. The touch of a seemingly pious man who only has desires for you.

Unlike your scoundrel of a husband who Father Kento was sure had not remained faithful to your marriage bed. Not the way most of the female townsfolk threw themselves at Satoru Gojo. If he had no qualms using you to achieve his means he certainly had none for himself.

You were simply a pawn to be played, as was Father Kento.

“Before we depart I leave you with these words: Let every day be a new day to renew the promises of our Baptism: We renounce Satan and all his works and seductions — for sh– *ahem* HE – is the seducer. Now go forth, Brothers and Sisters and remain true in the light of God.”

The closing rites over, Father Kento has never been more relieved nor eager for the conclusion of a mass. Watching the congregation mingle in the entrance, he gives his farewell blessings to the parishioners.

A few still remained however you were nowhere to be seen.

This was not odd, the Gojos were a busy couple, likely excusing themselves immediately to attend to more important affairs.

Or so he hoped.

“There you are, Father! Riveting service, as always.”

With a devious grin and a firm drawn-out handshake Gojo greets Father Kento. Turning to face the devil himself, Father Kento greets Satoru in turn with a strained smile and an even firmer grip.

Yet still he is unable to show you any of the wrath you justly deserve and Father Kento’s smile is more genuine when he faces you.

You regard Father Kento coyly as your husband’s arm tightens around your waist. Your face is flushed and it’s evident you are still weakened from the orgasm your husband gave you earlier in front of the entire congregation.

That knowledge though is only held by the three of you, God and perhaps the altar boy Yuji.

Father Kento had never known you to be silent when cumming so the exertion of the effort you expended likely weighed heavy on you as displayed by how you are clinging to Gojo to keep from swaying on your feet.

“Thank you. I am but a humble messenger of The Lord’s wor–.”

“– Wait. Hold that thought!”

Father Kento’s eyebrow twitches as Gojo's attention is momentarily called elsewhere.

Every Sunday, a growing number of parishioners would seek Satoru Gojo’s greeting and recognition after service over that of their priest Father Kento.

True to character Gojo makes an obnoxious show of charisma which leaves the last group of parishioners fawning and singing his praises as they exit.

“Forgive me, Father. Where were we? Ah– Of course! Yes, you are quite excellent in your delivery of God’s word, a true testament to your faith!”

His flattery is so obviously false in its sincerity that Father Kento is not surprised when Gojo’s sordid smirk returns.

“But you are not only a messenger for The Lord… isn’t that right, Father Kento?”

Father Kento warily clutches onto the large cross dangling from the rosary around his neck as Gojo continues.

“I’ll need you to spread mine as well. Haven’t you heard? I have plans to run for Mayor.”

Mayor.

The diabolical fiend truly knew no limits in his quest for control over the town.

“I’ll need you to come over to dinner tonight to consult with the rest of my top supporters.”

Father Kento steeled himself..

There was nothing he could do to stop Satoru Gojo from being mayor but his infatuation with you aside, he could not walk straight into the lion's den to collude with heathens.

It would be the final nail in his coffin, Gojo would indeed own his soul.

“Oh! Y/N is prepping a feast too… aren’t you, angel?”

Gojo’s grip on your waist trails lower to palm the fat of your ass and you clutch on to him tighter as you nod eagerly in agreement, biting your lip as his large hands knead into your cheeks through your wispy dress.

Your body is ever responsive to Gojo’s touch just like he trained you to be.

“I must refuse. I have duties here to attend, I couldn’t poss–”

“P-Please F-Father…”

And just like that your delicate voice cuts through his iron defenses like it were warm butter.

“…K-Kento, p-please come!”

Your request fumbles out of your lips as a cry as Gojo’s devilish fingers dip past your ass to prod at your cunt.

“You heard her Father. She wants you to come. Break bread with us, you will be among friends. Friends who know how to share, yeah? I’ll even share a piece of her cream pie for dessert.”

That had been the final straw. Gojo had gone too far this time.

You seeking him out was one matter but he would not allow Satoru Gojo of all people to dangle you in front of him like a master would dangle a treat to a dog.

“Begone, you foul heretic. I will not tolerate your mockery of me, this church nor God any longer.”

Commanding in his tone, Father Kento extends the cross of the rosary forward to Gojo as if he were casting a malevolent curse back down to hell.

Father Kento doesn’t have the courage to look at you though, he can’t. Not if he wants to take a triumphant stand against Satoru Gojo.

And so Father Kento closes his eyes and silently prays.

Immediately bored at such a devout display, Gojo sighs rolling his eyes.

“Alright, alright, Father. I get it. Whatever you say, jeez. It’s not like I need your support to become mayor– just thought it would be nice is all. ”

Father Kento remains silent as he listens to both of your footsteps exit the church but not before Gojo stops at the doors, his cheerful voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“Heh, you know, not everyone in this town is as pious as you Father. Sheriff Fushiguro has never been one to turn down a stack of bills but I’m sure tonight he would enjoy sharing in Y/N’s creampie if you don’t.”

Father Kento’s eyes open to flash red with fury.

Having received a satisfactory enough reaction from the priest, Gojo grins wildly as your own eyes widen in shock at your husband’s words.

Has Gojo only ever used you to manipulate him alone?

The thought remains as Father Kento doesn’t miss the pleading gaze directed at him from over your shoulder as you are led out of the church.

Goddammit– He couldn’t let you fall into the brutish clutches of Toji Fushiguro.

Toji may have been the sheriff but he was well-known for his oafish demeanor and greasy womanizing ways.

NO! He mustn’t think of you any longer.

Father Kento needs to clear his mind of you for good with prayer.

Prayer and solitude.

Deep prayer and extensive solitude was what he needed if he ever hoped to rise again to gain God’s favor. He needed to call upon The Lord’s strength one last time to remain at the parish tonight and defy Gojo’s will.

Father Kento couldn’t let the pleasures of flesh continue to manipulate the very fibers of his being in such a way.

The rosary still in his grasp Father Kento raises his hands close in prayer as a final call for God’s mercy… and then it hits him– wafting off his fingers, overwhelming his senses and igniting every nerve in his being.

The scent of your cunt.

The lingering perfume of your sinful drippings spilled on your husband’s hand during mass had been transferred to his own when Gojo shook his hand and held it so firmly.

The bastard.

The rush hits him hard and he feels dizzy as his ears begin to ring. Vertigo overtakes Father Kento as he holds the offending hand out as if he had been poisoned.

Leaning back against a wall to gather himself, Father Kento realizes once the manic pounding coursing through his veins begins throbbing in his loins that he’s fated for damnation.

This is the moment he’d always dreaded although ironic with the simple acceptance of it he feels no despair.

Father Kento’s conviction is finally clear as he is left with a singular truth that rang through his entire soul:

Whatever solace he would know, whatever peace he would have in this life, he would only find with his cock buried in the sweet embrace of your cunt.

✟

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

✟ the closing rites: (a/n) hell is hot and it's surely my destination after writing this. i tried to leave it a little ambiguous to whether y/n is actually in-love with nanami or just a sex-crazed slut eager to use him at the request of her husband. i don't have a pt.2 planned just fyi as this is meant to be a oneshot. although i do need to write more nanami so i will take requests for him! but fair warning i am very slow i apologize.

also shout out to the amazing art i used for the gfx ✟ art by mishwell

✟ REBLOG to be unburdened of your sins by Father Nanami but likes and comments are also appreciated!

upcoming: the nursery (yakuza!toji), please teach me! (ceo!gojo), request: teasing choso (college au), request: sukuna x blkreader, [none in any order as im at the mercy of my adhd lol]

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skteezcursed · 4 months ago

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❝greedy little darlin❞ — p.sh.

PAIRING. frat!park seonghwa x fem!reader.

GENDER AND WARNINGS. smut. dom!seonghwa. switch!sub!reader. university au. frat members ateez. sex talk (among adults). drinking (not too much, but just enough). pet names (mostly darling, reader is called slut once, good girl and handsome, prob more but i cant remember now). blowjob. hair pulling. cunnilingus. tongue fucking. over stimulation. sex with a condom (please remember to do that irl). light chocking. three? slaps on the ass. not proof read. i guess that's all, lmk if i forgot something.

SYNOPSIS. everyone knew you and Seonghwa were into each other, your friends even places a bet on when that would happen, although it never did. until he gets tired of your antics and decides to put you in your place.

RATING. R (+18) - MDNI.

WORD COUNT. ~5,6k.

NOTES. english is not my first language. part of the ateez frat boys (that i will still make so give me a moment) and of the atz house event you can't out rage us. shout out to @bro-atz for helping coming up with the idea for this, and to @seulrinnie-rinrin for betaing part of this. hopefully this is me leaving my slump so yeah, bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraying how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

Nothing was ever simple with Seonghwa.

Ever since the beginning, it was as if something was pulling you two closer and closer, the tension growing at each encounter. At first, everyone thought it was because you two didn’t know each other, the thing is that, after you met, the tension didn’t falter, it actually increased exponentially, to the point where your friends were making bets as to when and who would break first.

Park Seonghwa is the type of guy that makes you question everything. Because how can a man be so drop dead gorgeous with minimum to no effort? How can he look the squishiest human being with those adorable boba eyes, but also have the devilish look on his face when his eyes became siren and the smirk in present, making you question if you should really keep that line between friends high, blocking your passage, blocking you to reach his collar and kiss him like you need oxygen, to feel his marvelous tongue in between your folds, his hair in between your fingers as he -

“Earth to (y/n), you there?”

“Yeah, yeah sorry,” you looked around your friends with an apologetic look before focusing on the food in front of you, sighing. “What are we talking about again?”

“Damn, you truly dozed off,” the chuckle Mingi gave, was followed by some of the others as San just turned to you with that sweet smile of his, the dimples present, a reminder he too, was holding back a laugh.

“Since midterms are over, we were planning on having a little get together at the frat, no big party, just a few drink with friends, it’s not like any of us have time to organize it anyways,” you nodded taking another bite of your food, the movement being noticed by San who exchanged glances with the others. “So, can we count you on?”

“Don’t you consider me a friend, Sannie?” Everyone laughed as you leaned to kiss San’s cheek, apologizing. “I’ll be there, just let me know when.”

“We are all gonna be there, by the way,” the knowing smile that Wooyoung sent your way, made you want to push his face against his plate, “in case you want to dress up.”

“Why would I dress up to a get together with you guys?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because Hwa is gonna be there.”

“And you have a huge crush on him,” Jongho continued Yunho’s line and you could see Yeosang opening his mouth.

“And let's not forget the sexual tension there is!”

“You two should honestly just fuck already and end everyone’s suffering at this point.”

“What the fuck you guys talking about, and another word from you,” you pointed at Wooyoung who had made the last remark, “and I’ll shove your face against the plate!”

“Oh, kinky, should we let Hwa know?”

Yunho commented and all the boys bursted into laughter as all you wanted was to be buried six feet under.

Of course you had a crush on Seonghwa. Of course whenever you two were together there was this small flirtatious situation, and the sexual tension was definitely high whenever you two were close in a room, but that didn’t mean anything.

“I’m sure he’ll cave in soon and fuck you,” San’s words brought you back, making you eye him slightly shocked. “What? He thinks you are hot, he even said it to us the first time you two met, but I also don’t know why he hasn't done shit.”

“Because he likes to play with his food before eating it.”

Wooyoung jumped from the table the same second he finished his sentence already running from you trying to slap him, making everyone at the table and around you seven to laugh at the situation.

“I’ll fucking end you, Jung Wooyoung!”

You dolled up, he knew you would.

You always did whenever you two were to meet, only to be even more irresistible in his eyes. The fact that his brother’s from the fraternity knew how badly he wanted you, didn’t help as they would always create situations for the two of you to get close. Not that neither bothered to argue. Seonghwa had tried to reason with the younger ones, but as soon as he realized you didn’t really care, even indulged whenever it happened, made him decide to test how far you were willing to go.

As if you knew about it, you played along.

You accepted his drinks, laughed at his jokes, shiver under his touch, lean towards him when he was close. Yet, you would also pull your own strings. You knew he wouldn’t be jealous, you noticed on the first few tries on how he simply would smile or laugh at your useless attempts at making him feel anything when you were with someone else, which was not the case when he was the one trying to make you jealous, even if unintentionally.

So you changed your methods. From revealing clothes and trying to make him jealous, you simply decided to make yourself present, being there if needed, and flee if that was not the case, you stopped trying to get his attention, deciding to enjoy your time and maybe, just maybe, get with someone to alleviate the ache between your thighs whenever Seonghwa got too handsy with you before leaving you high and dry.

ATZ frat was known, as any other house on the Greek Road, to be just to mess around, never to create a relationship. Although you knew Wooyoung since you were kids, you knew that to be true whenever you and the other boys would get together, even San who appeared to be the one who leans mostly towards dating, would fuck around from time to time. The odds weren’t in your favor, so you decided to brush it off, to have fun with your friends, to go to their frat from time to time, and that was when your ‘relationship’ with Seonghwa started to change.

Both of you knew that this was never going forward. The moment you realized that, it was like something shifted in him, he started to go towards you whenever you met, regardless if it was at the frat or not. You knew that didn’t mean he was going to accept your advances, especially after you found out Hongjoong had established a rule that family and close friends from the members were off limits after a complicated situation happened a few weeks back and that you were highly aware of.

“So, you guys actually decided to throw a low profile party, hm? That’s a first,” you comment as Seonghwa opened the door and took a step back to let you in the frat before taking your jacket off, which he quickly took it in his hands as he closed the door. “Is anyone else coming?”

You asked, looking around, trying to see anyone, but the house looked rather empty. “I don’t know, but the main entertainment has finally arrived,” he purred against your ear, making you shiver as you smirked, keeping your composure. “Care for something to drink?”

“Sure, I’ll have whatever you are having,” you answer quickly, trying to brush off the shiver as you follow him towards the kitchen. “Heard it was a get together with friends… Was kind of expecting more people, if I’m honest.”

“Anyone in particular?” Seonghwa asked as he handed you a bottle of soju, clacking the bottles before bringing it to his lips, predatory eyes scanning your face. “Or are you asking to be sure you will be the only one here?”

As he took a step closer to you, you changed the weight of your foot before bringing the soju bottle to your own lips. “No one in particular, and we both know I don't mind sharing attention.”

Your eyes wandered across his face, lingering on his smirk before your fingers played with the necklace that hung low on his sheer shirt, the small opening where the necklace hang allowing your fingers to brush along the skin, as you noticed the smirk on Seonghwa’s lips grow slightly, his tongue poking out before you move away from him with a smirk.

“C’mon man, a hundred!”

“Fuck off Wooyoung, I’m not joining,” Mingi said pushing Wooyoung slightly chuckling as both their eyes landed on you, “it will be just another night and you know it, you will lose money.”

“So why you scared of betting?”

Wooyoung smirked at Mingi with raised eyebrows. “What you two up to, this time?”

“Betting if you and Hwa finally give in and fuck,” Wooyoung says bluntly making you scoff as you took another sip of your drink as you watch Seonghwa from afar talking to a few other people. “I’m betting it will, but the others are sure it’s just another night where you two keep with your cat and mouse game.”

“He knows I’m down, it’s in his lane,” you chuckle at Wooyoung’s words as you finish your drink. “I’m getting another bottle, do you guys want it?”

Both denied as Wooyoung continued to patronize Mingi, making you shake your head as you moved past Seonghwa, a little too close for comfort as your hand brush on his ass and you notice his eyes fall on you as you kept going to the kitchen, giving him a smirk as you open the fridge to get another bottle of soju.

“That’s your fourth bottle,” you hear Seonghwa’s voice, seeing him eye you from the counter, the bottle on his hands half empty, “shouldn’t you slow down?”

“Oh, is the mighty Park Seonghwa worried about me?” You smirk as you choose your bottle, opening as you eyed him. “That’s adorable, and I would actually believe it if it was a different scenario…”

“Why do you think I’m not?”

His eyes followed your form as you walked towards him, his hand instinctively finding your hip pressing it lightly, as he noticed your breath hitch as the bottle met your lips.

“Because we are at a party, a chill one, where nothing major is gonna happen…” Your eyes followed down to his sheer shirt, nails tracing down, touching his skin and abs over the shirt as you reached his pants, fingers vagally there before it went to the hook of the pants. “And I’m getting bored.”

His hand on your hips pressed, making you bite your lip as he took a step closer, his lips hovering over yours as his eyes studied every reaction. “So you intend to get drunk?”

“It’s not a solution, but it’s a possibility,” you say as your body gets closer to him, the freaking magnetic relationship you had whenever you two were together. “You have pretty friends…”

Your eyes avert for the people behind Seonghwa, who follows your eyes as it lands on some of his colleagues and friends before reaching yours with a small knowing smirk.

“I don’t think they are available…”

“Funny, because some of them already engaged in a few conversations with me,” you chuckle watching him, as one of your fingers extended and touched near his crotch area lightly, “and i can’t say I’m not interested in what they have to say…”

“Then have your fun with them, I’ll be waiting to hear about it later,” he hinted with raised eyebrows to you as his bottle reached his lips, his eyes never leaving you.

“Oh, so they are the kiss and tell type…” You murmur looking at his friends once more. “Might as well prepare for a performance then.”

“You wouldn’t need to if they knew what they were doing,” his eyes burned on you, as a smirk played on his lips, his hand pulling you as it reached your lower back, pressing you against his, against the bulge in his pants. His lips brushed against your ear, “but hey, if you are gonna fake better put on a memorable show, which I’m sure you are more than capable of doing.”

“I always do,” your voice sounded steady but your body was betraying you, as usual. “Wouldn’t be bad to not have to fake it everytime.”

Your hands moved between your bodies as you squeezed his bulge lightly, hearing him wince. “Feeling brave today, are we?”

“No, just needing to relieve some stress, after all, finals are finally over.”

You brushed your lips against Seonghwa’s before squeezing his bulge once more before pushing him away with the hand that held the soju bottle as you moved past him, smirking.

“So this is how we are playing tonight?” Seonghwa said under his breath. “Good luck with your boy toy search.”

He said a little louder, which you only raised your hand dismissing his comment, as his eyes lingered on your figure. The pants becoming a bother. Finals week had taken its toll on him, and just like you, he also needed a release. His eyes trailed on you as he watched you move, talk, touch and laugh at everyone's commentaries, a knowing glint in his eyes, the smirk always present as he called in one of his friends.

As it usually happened, neither you nor Seonghwa engaged once more throughout the night as you went on and on talking to every male, choosing if you’d bring any of them back home with you. The soju bottle now empty as your eyes wander on the last choices.

“Found them already?”

The amusement in Seonghwa voice already told the smirk plastered on his lips. “Maybe…”

“I’ll take that as no then,” you felt him get closer to you, his front pressing on your side. “I may have someone for you, if you want.”

“Didn’t know you were into voyeurism,” your eyes quickly shot him a confused but amused look.

“And you seemed too bothered right now, so what is your answer?”

His hot breath against your neck and ear as you felt his lips touch your skin as his eyes studied you, as yours followed around the room trying to catch a glimpse of his friends, missing one as you turned to him with a smirk. Lips almost touching as you did, feeling his hand on your lower back.

“I guess you got my taste correctly.”

“Darling, when I say I know you, I mean it.”

Lips quickly found your cheekbone as his hand pulled you closer to his body. You held any sound not giving him the satisfaction.

“Cocky as always, aren’t you?” You chuckle but not move away from him, your nails scratching his abs through the shirt and subtly, as you feel them contract. “Why don’t you go get him then? I’m getting rather tired.”

“He went upstairs though, should we go fetch him?” His eyes were siren-like, a small smirk as he took your wrist, guiding you up the stairs. The look from some of the boys from the frat only made you laugh as you shook your head. “What’s funny?”

Seonghwa asks curiously as you reach the second floor. “Some of the boys looked at you guiding me.”

“I guess that’s fair,” he chuckled as well, his demeanor changing a little as he kept his hand on your wrist guiding you through the rooms, reaching the one you knew to be his. “Someone spilled a drink on his shirt, he asked to borrow one of mine.”

Your eyebrows raised, nodding still processing what was happening, as Seonghwa was a master of teasing you and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d guide you to the rooms — or his in specific — only to get you even more frustrated. Your eyes studied his features as his hand opened his room motioning for you to enter.

“I’m not fucking your friend in your room, Seonghwa.”

“Who says anything on those lines, darling?” A chuckle left his lips. “Now, will you be a good girl and enter the room, or don’t you trust me to have your best interest in heart?”

You bit your lip, noticing his gaze fall on them for a second before you motion to enter his room, eyes looking for the friend who was indeed with a shirt from Seonghwa and a stained one in hand.

“Oh, hello,” the boys said moving away from his phone, putting his shirt in a corner before his eyes fell on you and then Seonghwa. “Wingman, hm?”

You shook your head at his words, noticing Seonghwa nod as you focused on the boy that took a few steps towards you.

“A good wingman, nonetheless,” your voice was laced with amusement as his friend reached closer with a smirk, his hand going to cup your face. “Now, shall we leave?”

“Just give us a second, will you, darling?” Seonghwa said against your neck as you noticed both leave you, allowing you to take a breather. Of course Seonghwa would pull something like that. Few seconds later you hear footsteps and the movement of the door. “Thank you for being such a good girl, darling.”

At that, the door closed the same second Seonghwa’s hands found yours hips pulling you against his front making you gasp, before chuckling lightly.

“Smart, I gotta give you that.”

“Couldn’t have made it easy for you to figure it out, could I?”

His lips quickly found your neck as you moved your head to the side giving him access as you arched your back, pressing your ass against his bulge. One hand found his on your hip as the other went to the back of his neck tangling on his long locks.

“Of course, what would be the fun in that?” You chuckle before gasping as you felt him suck on the skin of your neck, as you put pressure on his nape, feeling his right hand lower towards your exposed thigh, the tips quickly wander to your inner thighs going up teasing your clothed core. “If you are just teasing this time, I swear —”

“I’m done with your antics, darling, it’s time to put you in your place.” The whimper that left your mouth made him chuckle against your neck as he put pressure on your clothed clit making you jolt. “C’mon darling, I think we postponed this for far too long,” his hands quickly turned you to face him, one hand on your chin before going to your hair. “Why don’t we start with you on your knees?”

You oblige letting him push you down, until your knees felt the floor, his crotch eye leveled, your mouth watering as his other hand undid his pants, the one on your head entangling with your hair as his pants fell, leaving him only in his underwear, the outline of his cock on display as you swallow hard. A light caress on your scalp was the only ‘okay’ you got before your hands quickly went to his waistband, lowering the underwear slowly.

His cockhead glowing with precum as you licked your lips feeling him pull your head near his pelvis, your hands pulling the rest of his underwear down as his cockhead quickly met the touch of your lips. The groan that left his lips making you smile as the pool in between your legs grew. As one hand finished pulling down his underwear, the other quickly met the base of his cock.

“Such a handsome face with such a pretty cock,” you said with a smile before opening your mouth, taping his tip on your tongue, feeling his fingers tighter on your head.

“Such a pretty filthy mouth, I wonder how it would look filled with my cum.”

Without a warning, he pushed your head down his length, moaning as your lips and tongue made contact with his cock, your hand working on the base of the cock as the other rested on his thigh. In swift movements you started to little by little take him in your mouth, gagging lightly from time to time, before he let you breath, the spit line connecting your swollen lips to his cock only making him twitch before fucking your mouth once more.

“Fuck, darling, do you like when I fuck your mouth like that, hm?” One of his hands caressed your hollowed cheeks as he slowed his movements a bit, to be able to look at you. “Such a pretty little thing for me, taking me in your mouth so well like that, I wonder how your cunt feels if this is how well your mouth treats me.”

You mumble with your mouth around his cock, making the vibration run through his body as one of your hands went up his abs under the shirt, which he quickly took it off, throwing somewhere along the pants and underwear as you started to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks, one hand on the base of his cock, sometimes joining in the movement your head was making. The sounds and cusses that went out of Seonghwa’s mouth only made you wetter by the second, if it wasn’t for your damped panties, you sure would have made a messy spot of arousal on his floor.

At this point you tried your best to keep yourself composed, mouth open and holding yourself steady as he fucked your mouth, holding your head in place before his movements become more erratic. You could feel him twitch on your mouth the last few times, the cockhead reaching the back of your throat, your eyes watering as your nails sank onto the skin of his thigh before his release filled your mouth and throat.

Before he could pull it out you held his base, slurping as you got the last drop of his cum in your mouth, swallowing and opening your mouth, putting his tip again in your tongue. The smirk along with the groan that left him was enough to make you want to do it all over again, to have him fuck your mouth once more, but his hand was quickly on your chin pulling you up, before connecting your mouths, making both moan against your lips.

Your hands quickly found his half-hard member, swift movements as your tongues explored each other’s mouths. His hand kept firm on the back of your head, holding you close to his as he ravish on your mouth, while the other went to your thigh, raising your dress to the waistline before slapping it harshly, making you jolt and moan against his mouth. A smirk could be felt as he slapped your ass one more time, pulling your hair, parting your lips, before smacking it once more, a glint in his eyes as he watched your whole body tremble.

He quickly moves you to the bed, pushing you down as his lips meet yours once more, your hands moving to his hair as one of his keeps holding your neck, the other quickly parting your legs as he pressed his knee to your clothed core, the hand holding your hips in place as you instinctively you started moving slowly as he restrain your movements from the grip on your hip making you whimper against his mouth.

“Please, please Hwa, I need — argh!” You complain as you feel the pressure of his knee against your clit, his mouth leaving wet trails of kisses along your neck and collarbone. “Please fuck me, please Hwa, I need you to —”

“I said I’d put you in your place, not take orders from you, I’m sure you know the difference, right?” He hovered over you as he finished saying that, his hand previously on your hips going up under your dress to pinch your nipple making you whine and throw your head back onto the mattress. “I need an answer, darling,” he said once more, his lips hovering against yours as he forced you to look at him, his other hands massaging your breast as he pressured your clit once more, making you move your hips searching for friction, only making him chuckle. “Be a good girl and answer my question and you’ll get to cum, although I do like to play with my food before eating it, makes it even more delicious to watch you come undone on my tongue.”

“Fucking hell,” you breath as you saw the smirk and watched his eyes fall to your parted lips, as the friction with his knee helped a little, but only made your insides burn with the need to have him inside you. “Yes, I-I know the difference, now ple-please touch me, please, Hwa.”

“Looks like you know how to beg, that’s cute,” he said before both his hands found your dress, pulling it over your head, exposing the majority of your body, the only covered part being the place you wanted him the most. “Time to grant your wish, darling.”

His lips quickly started a trail of wet open kisses down your neck, one of his hands holding your waist, the other playing with your nipple, pitching it as the other was finally met with Seonghwa’s mouth as he sucked in and played with the nipple, both with his tongue when he wouldn’t let marks over your chest. The lust in his eyes only got darker as he saw the marks embellishing your skin.

“Hwa, please… It hurts,” you whimper as you move your hips quickly against his leg, making him chuckle as he starts to kiss down your stomach, kneeling before you, siren eyes locked on you. “I’ve been good, now please fuck me.”

Although you did plead, your voice carried a hint of demand that made Seonghwa arched his brows and smirked as his hands spread your legs wider. You lifted your upper body, resting it on your elbows as you wanted to see the sight of Seonghwa’s head between your legs, as you have imagined and dreamed about it so many times before, only to groan when he kissed your inner thigh, neglecting the heat coming from your clothed folds.

“Patience comes for those who wait, darling, and I rush for no one,” his voice was laced with lust and a hint of a challenge, making you bite your lip, knowing if you pushed his rules, he might leave you high and dry. His smirk grew as he realized you caught up with his hint. “I knew you were a good girl, a brat even, but good to know you can be easily tamed,” his lips touched your damped panties right above your clit making you jolt and curse under your breath. “Now, lay down on the bed and let me have my fun with you, okay, darling?”

Before you could do as he said, his lips found your clothes core making you throw your head back with a moan, feeling his hands moving and pulling your panties to the side, his lips finding your sensitive clit making you jolt as he chuckled at your reaction, tip of his tongue touching your clit as he ravish on the sight of you squirming on his bed. Your hands quickly found his hair pulling it to you, which he obliged for the time being.

As his lips enveloped and sucked your clit, his fingers that were parting your legs found your core, coming up and down your entrance, making you jolt and clench around nothing as he would never put them in too much.

“Fuck Hwa, please please please please,” you squirmed already feeling tears fill your eyes as you looked down at him. “Fucking hell,” you said once more as your eyes met, the siren lustful eyes that you only dreamed of having between your legs before feeling his tongue play with your clit as two fingers enter you, making you throw your head back and arch your back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck!”

You screamed as you felt the build up in your stomach, only for him to stop completely before you feel his hands tanking off you panties before hovering over you, kissing your lips once more as his fingers played with your slit before entering you and curling inside, his thumb pressing on your clit as you moaned against Seonghwa’s lips, cussing and begging at the same time, as all you wish was to cum.

“My fingers or mouth, darling?”

“Both.”

“Greedy little darling, unfortunately you can only pick one,” you open your mouth to complain but only a moan escapes as he adds another finger making you squirm under him. “Choose now, or you won't have any.”

“Mouth.”

You say breathlessly as he lowers himself so his lips hover over yours. “Good girl.”

His lips are soon connected to your clit once more as his fingers leave you making you whine at the loss and clench around nothing as he quickly starts to ravish on your cunt. His tongue enters you in places you never thought it would be possible as his nose flickers on your sensitive clit making you tug on his hair as moans, curses and Soenghwa’s name leave your mouth at each strip he licks and each time his tongue enters your core.

“Fuck Hwa, so good, fucking god—”

“Cum for me darling, I want you to cum on my tongue, only then I’ll fill you up, so be a good girl and listen to what I say.”

You could barely process what he said as the build up in your stomach became too much, as you tried to push Seonghwa away as the stimulation started to become too great but he didn’t pull away, smirking at how much you squirmed because of his mouth. As heat flushed through your body making you numb, Seonghwa took his type to lick you clean watching you jolt from how sensitive you were before hovering above you once more.

“You ready for my cock, darling?” You just nodded as you watched him smirk, going for a condom that was in his drawer, quickly putting it on before positioning himself at your entrance. “I need to hear it.”

“I want you to fuck me senseless, Park Seonghwa.”

“My pleasure, my darling.”

At that he thrusts fully into you, holding your hips in place, keeping steady as he watched you, wondering if it was okay for him to move. Once you started to breathe again and your hand met his forearm as the other went for your breast, he smiled and started to move. Steady at first, watching how your facial expressions would change, playing with your body as he wanted to see what would make you tic, what would bring the sweetest sound from your mouth, but most importantly, what would make you come back to his bed.

“Fuck Hwa, yes, please, just like — argh fuck, YES!”

You couldn’t care less if someone was listening, if you had to take the walk of shame tomorrow, if this was only a one night stand, how you’d face Seonghwa once more if that was the case, none of it matter, all it mattered was how well he was rearranging your organs as his fingers sank into the flesh of your hip and he’d pull you towards him.

“Is my greedy little darling enjoying my cock?”

“Yes, yes, yes fucking yes.”

Seonghwa smiled at your words as one of his hands left your hip to find your clit, making you scream the moment he started to put pressure there, feeling you clench around him, his eyes closing as he could only think about making you cum on his cock, think about hearing you moan like that once more for him. As he felt his own orgasm coming closer, his other hand went for your neck, squeezing it just enough to make you roll your eyes back as his thumb still moved slowly on your clit as his thrusts became erratic.

“Cum for me darling, cum on my cock like the good slut you are, yes?”

And that was enough to push you over the edge as you screamed, arching your back as you creamed around his cock, feeling his thrusts start to slow down before his last thrust kept steady inside you as you knew he had emptied himself. His hand on your clit went to the mattress as the one on your neck found your cheeks caressing it lightly before he locked your lips together.

“So that just happened.”

He chuckled at your words, making you laugh as well, before he looked at you with the boba eyes you knew so well on certain occasions.

“I’m gonna pull out, okay?” You nodded whining at the loss of his cock as you watched him take the condom out and toss it on the trash as he got a cloth to clean you up, surprising you a little, bringing a chuckle to leave his mouth. “Are you okay?” He asked as he carefully cleaned you up, eyeing you with concerned eyes when you hissed a little and he quickly apologized.

“It’s okay, Hwa, don’t worry about it,” you comment, trying to get up already looking for your clothes, only to have Seonghwa hold you by the arm as your legs failed you. “I’m fine, I’ll be okay in a bit, just —”

“Lay down,” it wasn’t a request although it sounded like it coming from his mouth, by how careful he said it. “You are not leaving this room, we will sleep and then talk about it tomorrow, unless you are uncomfortable —”

“It’s fine I— I thought you’d want me to leave since…”

“I’m a little cold, yes, but not that cold. I could never make a girl leave my room right after something like this, especially if that girl is you.” Your breath hitched and Seonghwa smiled at you. “Now, let’s go lay down, do you want one of my shirts to sleep on, darling?”

You nodded, smiling at him as you sat back on the bed, as Seonghwa smiled at you handing you a shirt and boxers, which you thanked as he pulled the covers after putting shorts himself and laying next to you in bed.

“Thank you, Seonghwa.”

“No need to thank me,” he kissed your temple pulling you closer to him on the bed, his hands playing with your hair as he noticed you drifting to dreamland, chuckling lightly. “Goodnight, my darling.”

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inklore · 4 months ago

Text

does it feel good?

— qimir x f!reader

premise: he is your beginning, the whole reason you have made peace with the darkness inside your head, and you know someday he may become your end. whether by his saber or by him finally consuming completely. you welcome both.

contents: established master x acolyte dynamics, shared force bond, unprotected p in v, foreplay, light choking, biting, scars and burn marks mentioned, death, teasing, over stimulation | wc: 2.7k+

note: i love that we all saw the water scene and went yeah that's for the smut writers. glad we are collectively going insane over this man.

The moons paint the water in a shimmering light that bathes its surface in sapphire that fades to the deepest of blacks the longer you stare into it. The waves that hit against the ragged stones are like a siren call to your aching body.

Your muscles are still tight and coiled from earlier. Your molars grind together when you lift your arms to pull off your ruined and stained clothes. A burning sensation felt through your body as the fabric covering your torso moved against every burn, cut, and bruise you had acquired tonight.

You didn’t stop by a reflective surface to check how many battle scars you’d earned. Badges of honor. More wounds worn like metals placed on your neck by a pleased master. Wounds, he’ll help you heal, stitch up, seal with the press of his palm to the tattered skin—stolen supplies from planets you can’t remember the name of with faces you can only remember the dead eyes of, used on the ones that don’t close up right.

The moonlight makes them look less serious. The illumination colored the dried blood and tissue into something misty. Almost tantalizing to the eye. Unlike the light of day, where you’re sure it will look less glamorizing. The ugly truth of the way your skin is going to bubble up and mold over to protect itself once the healing process begins is less glaring in this hue.

Your toe dips into the water. It’s always warmer than you think it to be. Always welcoming you in like it’s been waiting for you to return. Waiting to wash away the grim and blood that seemed more permanent on your skin than your own flesh.

You wade at the edge for a bit, pushing around the water with your feet. The water wading at your ankles.

The ringing hasn’t stopped.

It rarely does until you’ve closed your eyes and settled it. Until your body is less taut, muscles released from the on switch of fight. The power inside your veins thrumming like a wasp trying to free itself from the tissue of your bones.

As if it had gotten stuck in there and couldn’t find its way out. Refusing to settle down or leave until you’ve maimed, avenged, and proved yourself—leaving your body and muscles in their current state.

You’re not worried about something being in the water. If there were, you would have been able to feel it. Sense it’s beating heart and the danger of allowing it to keep beating. You’re alone as you walk further into the water, sinking into it’s depths until your body is completely engulfed. Your neck and head the only things going untouched.

The freshly made badges on your skin burn when you scrub your thumb along the edges of them. Specks of dried blood float along the surface of the water before they’re lost to the darkness below.

Amongst the ringing in your head, you can hear the screams of anger that tore from your lungs when the Jedi had gotten the upper hand. The green of his saber leaving red against your skin. Making your moves turn from confident to something rage fueled.

Somewhere among the ringing, you know his scream is in there. Amongst the many cries for help and cracking bones.

They always linger. Always hold on like a power pack to your dark side.

You know your body won’t fully relax until you’ve stopped the ringing, though. You didn’t believe in blessings or curses. Bad fortune or good. Everyone’s life ended the same way. If you did believe in the farce, you would think the ringing that goes from the base of your skull to the drums of your ears was a curse.

A quiet mind is a blessing.

The buzz of the force within you too heady when you're in the throes of battle. War. Darkness. It’s always been like that. Even before him.

It’s only gotten worse with him beside you. Like the bond the two of you had opened too much too deep and you feel everything more clearly. More unfortunately.

He taught you how to silence it. To reign it in after the adrenaline and pace of your heart slowed.

There were still things you had to learn. Things you were kept from knowing by your old master, the one who only saw one way to wield your power. A cowardly excuse for a master whose burial you wish you could have witnessed.

It’s aggravating, almost. Anger inducing for sure.

Someone not believing you are capable of knowing the truth about the power you wield. It’s criminal to not allow someone to be their true self all because of a set of rules that only benefited one group of people. One way of living, when there were so many.

Your aggravation has faded by now. The anger is still there and buzzes through you. But you no longer feel like a part of you has been held back. Stunted and aching like your chest had for years—as if a rock had found itself in the base of your heart and took up rent there—until Qimir showed you the way.

Your true self.

Your full potential and all you were capable of.

All that had been inside of you, held back for so long.

Filling your lungs with air, you sink yourself under the water and hold yourself there. Eyes closing as you center yourself. Slow the wasp in your marrow to something dull. Stop the ringing in your ears until all you can hear is the hum of the water hitting the rock above the surface.

Just you and the force.

Just you and the water.

Until you feel him.

Until he’s there inside your mind.

Until you feel a hand at the base of your skull, fingertips brushing at the nape of your neck to let you know he’s not just in your head. He’s beside you.

Your eyes meet once you’ve filled your lungs with air again, and you wipe the water droplets from your lids.

You watch him splash water against his neck, running the palm of his hand along the dirt and grime that clings to his skin. Cleaning himself of any traces of the deaths the two of you have left in your wake tonight.

His calm demeanor always pulls you back from the edge. Always brings a calmness to your blood. To the beating of your heart. Even when shit has gone haywire, his demeanor never switches up. Never slips into something that could be labeled as sloppy or driven by anything other than who he truly is. What he’s made of.

His calm seeping through your shared bond until you have no choice but to relax.

The handful of times you’ve seen that calmness turn into something animalistic, it’s made you envious, on the same hand, it’s made the space between your thighs burn.

“You did well tonight.”

“The smell of my burning flesh still clinging to my senses says differently.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in amusement, “you did well.” He repeats. Ducks his head forward to wet his hair. His fingers running through the strands, droplets falling down his face. Your eyes follow them all the way down the column of his neck to his chiseled collar bones.

It doesn’t take one wielding the force to know what your mind is projecting. Doesn’t matter that the two of you share a part of your brain. The thoughts of past nights spent together, Qimir teaching you the ways desire can be wielded and used to your advantage—or disadvantage, depending on how you look at it.

Your face turns from him. Eyes moving up to the moon.

Trying to hold back your thoughts the way he taught you. Even if it is futile against him.

“How do you feel?”

Has the ringing stopped, Is what he’s really asking. Do you need another lesson? Are you still weakened by that ailment? That curse?

Except he wouldn’t be as dramatic as that. Not with this. Not ever. Especially when it came to your power. Your capabilities. The perfect little acolyte he’s trained you to be.

“Fine.” Your answer clipped, honest. Because you are fine, and your stubbornness will not allow you to let this turn into another lesson about you not being able to be as calm and collected as he is. No shadows of doubt lingering over who he truly is. His purpose. His wants. His desires. His darkness.

He’s always been able to read right through you, though. Even without taking up space in your being. The force has little to do with that fact.

You were never afraid of the darkness that lived inside of you. Never afraid of the power you could wield and the lives you could take.

The only time you’ve felt true fear is being seen.

Accepted.

The potential to let someone of importance down and not withhold your end of a deal you’ve inked your name in blood just to be beside. To prove yourself to someone who’s your equal. Another half of your very being.

His face shows nothing but that calm amusement when he wades behind you. His fingers moving against your skin in an act to rid you of the spots of dirt you’ve missed on your neck and shoulders.

Swallowing hard when his fingers scrape against past scars, he lingers there for a beat. Running the pad of them against the raised skin. A whisper in your head.

You heal beautifully.

It’s a softness you’d never thought him to be capable of when you found out who he truly was. The man behind the mask. Even if the unmasking had been done unintentionally.

It’s not softness you feel from his touch, though. No, his touch eases the strain in your muscles, only to gather itself in your belly. Your body burning with anticipation, knowing how this goes.

How you’re rewarded when you impress him.

When you do as you are told, your master is ever the generous one.

“You’ve proven yourself tonight.” His lips brush against the tip of your spine, “killing without a weapon, not stopping until you were the last one standing. Freeing yourself from the ones who held you back for so long.” Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when his mouth presses down on that same spot at the beginning of your spine.

A hand snaking around your throat, his palm wet and warm against your collarbones as he pulls your neck at just the right angle to have you looking at him.

“Did it feel good?”

“Yes.” You swallow, wrap your fingers around his wrist. “It always does.” You whisper, your eyes flashing down to the upturn of his lips.

His nose runs along your cheek to your temple, his eyes closed, inhaling you. “I can always smell it. When you let yourself become one with the darkness. Right before you take a life.” His thumb runs a circle against the vein, which tells him the pace of your heart has picked up. As if he’d need it to know, as if the two of you don’t share something that links you completely to the other. “It still lingers. It’s distracting.”

It’s not a question, but you nod. Your eyes flutter when he pushes his hips forward, and the hardness of his cock moves against your ass.

He doesn’t ask permission, the two of you knowing you’re past such kindnesses, when his hand cups your mound. He knows what your body needs right now. What it wants, what it’s expecting. He can feel it too. His index and middle fingers spread your pussy, giving him access to that pleasure point on your body that only he knows how to stroke just right to have you pliant and singing for him.

As if you were not already devoted to him. As if he were not your reason for being.

He’s your beginning, and you have no doubt he will be your end if it comes to it.

The pad of his finger circles your clit in that slow way that lets you know he’s going to take his time with you. Going to drain every last bit of strain and tightness from your muscles, pushing that buzz between your legs and making him the only sound in your head—until he thinks you have had enough.

Until your reward is good enough for him to be satisfied with how you took it. Until he knows your mind is back where it needs to be—here, with him.

His mouth meets the hand at your throat, his teeth sinking into the parts his fingers aren’t pressing into. “You’re everything I could have hoped for.” His tongue laps against your pulse.

Perfect.

You may never know if he actually means the words; you can only feel what he allows you to feel through your shared connection. He’s better at blocking than you. But he knows you need to hear these praises. Knows how good and pliable it will make you. His words stoke the fire inside your soul that burns through your darkness. That allows you to become completely consumed by him and the desire to be on this side.

Of being free.

What he does allow you to feel lets you know there is some truth somewhere in there. You can feel it in how hard his cock thrusts against your ass when your body pushes back into him. You can feel it in the way his thoughts stream through your mind.

So obedient.

Your cunt’s so greedy for me.

You’re mine.

The skin on your fingers stings from gripping the rocks in front of you. The pain you should feel from the heel of your palm digging into the jagged stones, lost in the haze of pleasure consuming your body.

Qimir consuming every last part of your being.

Taking over every dark corner of your mind and not letting you feel or hear anything but him.

Your moans become more shaky, your chest heaving as you pant and curse. The weight of the finger on your clit grows heavier, faster, deliriously good the more you near your orgasm.

Your lips are moving in inaudible words. Words he understands, making him grin against your jaw.

“You want my cock tonight?” You know he’s read your mind, or rather, your body. Know he can feel what you desire and crave. What your minds begging him for. “Hmm, do you think you’re deserving of that big of a prize? You spill a little blood, and suddenly you’re greedy.” He hums, “you did well. Do you think you deserve it, though? No?”

Heat burns your cheeks; his chuckle makes you sob into the night air. The stubbornness to please and be as perfect as your counterpart wants you to be is not in favor of the mounting pressure that’s building in your pussy right now.

“I already think you’re perfect; don’t push it.” His foot pushes easily at your ankles. Your thighs spread enough for the head of his cock to press against your entrance and thrust inside.

“Mmm,” you whine at the stretch. Your eyes fluttering closed at your swollen walls being filled. Walls that tighten around him as he sets a fast pace. Matching the rhythm and stroke of his fingers. Sending your body on an overwhelming precipice of a carnal need to come.

The heaviness of his breath as he says your name against your skin—the quick flashes of the pleasure he feels from being inside of you—is what finally sends you over the edge.

Your orgasm rocking through you like a storm. Your body shaking against him, walls fluttering and squeezing around his cock, making him groan. Your throat raw and scratchy from the noise that’s pulled up from your lungs when everything in your body is set completely aflame.

Your hand falling from the rocks, and pressing your nails into his wrist, trying to pull his hand from between your thighs. The over-stimulation of his finger moving against your clit even after your orgasm has passed makes you cry out and ripple the water around the two of you as you squirm.

The tip of his cock hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. That falters your fight against his torment.

“You can do better than one. You deserve it, don’t you?”

#qimir x reader #qimir x you #the acolyte x reader #qimir smut #the stranger x reader #star wars smut #star wars x reader #laur writes star wars

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criibibi · 29 days ago

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Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 1 - Home Sick

Okay, let’s start this from the top. Once upon a time and all that shit.

You had somehow, some way, ended up stranded in another universe when you were going toe-to-toe with the Spot that (unfortunately) Mile’s apparently created (unintentionally). Got it? Good.

Now the question is how you got stranded in another universe while fighting the Spot is another shebang that you do not know, and frankly, not your top priority as of right now.

Your mission is finding a way to power your web-watch (no offense but the gizmo name sucks), and either use it to find Miguel, the spider-society, or your very own earth. You honestly weren’t choosy on which option you land, as long as you safely made it out alive and unscathed.

Speaking of unscathed, which in fact you are not, you quietly swung across many buildings, in the shadows, making sure you were hard to spot. Your dark spider suit being perfect for night patrol is a blessing for the camouflage it provides you in this god forsaken gloomy city.

Now, to get back on track, it took you an embarrassing amount of time to process that you have basically been thrown into a world where in your universe is all but fiction.

Have you kept up with the comics?

No, of course not. After Aunt May’s passing, you honestly gave up everything and just solely dedicated yourself into fighting crime. Well, you know some things, since Peter was also a mega comic nerd.

He would go on for hours and hours and hours about Batman and his kids (adopted and biological) and whatnot. You didn’t mind, since spending time with a talkative Peter was better than being in your own headspace. If you recall the latest one to come under Batman’s wing was someone named Duke? Well, that’s as far as you remember.

Regardless, now you're looting someone’s clothing wire. Picking out a thick gray turtleneck and black leggings (thank god) you don them over your suit, making sure nothing was visible. Now the issue is your footwear. Maybe you can get away with it?

Taking off the mask you were able to stuff it inside your bra (extra pocket, am I right?) while your gloves were hidden among your sleeves. Making sure nothing was out of place you pulled out the wallets of the two petty criminals, counting the money.

“Four-fifty, not bad.” Though you don’t condone your actions, you are in a precarious situation at the moment. Oh well. Tossing one of the wallets away (making sure not to touch it with your fingers), you also placed it inside your bra for safe keeping.

Maybe this would be enough for a motel? How expensive- or cheap are those in Gotham? With how often crimes occur, it shouldn’t be that expensive, right? Regardless, first things first, find a place to eat, find out the date and then a place to stay. Shouldn't be too hard.

Quietly climbing down the side of a complex building, you made sure the coast was clear before heading out. The lack of a jacket made you feel very vulnerable and exposed. Head down and hands to your sides, the cool breeze of the city causes shivers down your spine. “This fucking sucks.” you mumbled, making sure to avoid gothamites as much as possible.

No time to gawk at your environment when you’re so out of place. You honestly just kept walking around, hearing police sirens and the occasional cop car driving by while you try to not lose your goddamn mind.

Walking around, using back streets and alleys you shiver as the cold nips at your face. It’s not that you’re sensitive to cold, it’s just that you can’t afford to get sick here. In a world where you don’t exist.

“Wait a minute…” thinking back on something, it’s true that you don’t exist here. But that doesn’t mean that a you- doesn’t exist. Maybe somehow there is a version of you or spider-woman here. A far reach but hey, just hours ago, this was all fictional to you. But something worth looking into.

With a heavy sigh you walk inside an alley, looking up to gauge the time to see- oh, what’s that? Another clothing line! And guess what? It has more clothes to loot! Score! Don’t mind if I do! Finders keepers baby!

And you thought your spider luck was ass.

Discreetly looking around to see for any cameras that can potentially identify you only to come out flat. Perfect. Using the fire escape you parkour to snag a black oversized zip up sweater.

This would be perfect in covering you even further (and now you have pockets for your mask) and making your figure harder to identify. Now you can start acting like a true gothamite.

With a pep in your step, you exit the alleyway.

Spotting a diner up ahead, settling yourself inside you order your drink of choice and a bagel just to have something to entertain yourself while you calm your nerves.

Sitting down next to a window, taking slow sips and bites from your meal you subtly look around (making a point of subtly ignoring the gaze of the cashier). It seems to be late afternoon, heading to night. Not good, not good at all.

Besides finding a place to stay, you glance at your wrist, the web watch looking pretty obvious and suspicious out there in the open on your wrist. But, without it, you could perish in this foreign world. Should you pull a Hobie Brown and create a new watch from scratch? No, you don’t have the time, tools, or luxury. Thank god for the hoodie covering it up.

Right now, staying on task is essential. A job, maybe? With what credentials? Hell, you don’t even have an ID. Maybe a fake one? Who would do such a thing for a reasonable price and isn’t a criminal? Another note, you need supplies, enough to build web shooters and the cartridge. Unlike other spiders, you had the ability to shoot webs from your wrist, gross. But (with Peter’s intellect) you ended up also creating webs on your own in case yours fails. And it has- a lot both in comical and crucial times. Peter wouldn’t let you live anything down (god you miss him).

And being in a new world and everything going on, the last thing you need is a web block because of the high anxiety and stress this place is already giving you. You’d rather be safe than sorry. Now, how to get supplies? Stealing them seems easier than working for it. You just don’t have the time. How were you going to steal them, and from where? Who the fuck knows. Probably from a college science room or something.

In order to do even that, you need to find out the layout and what not of this place. So maybe the best place to start is the library? Doesn’t someone from Batman’s little possie work at the library? Can you risk that? Probably.

Fuck, this was going to be harder than it looks. No phone, basically no money (not counting the one you stole from criminals), no ID (or insurance), no place to stay, no allies, ya got nothing. Zip, zero, nada.

You feel so lost and alone, so vulnerable. And the thoughts in your head are slowly getting louder and louder. Eating away at your insecurities and feelings. God, you’re starting to get homesick. Will you make it back? Will you find a way back home? Is anyone even looking for you?

Last thing you recall was fighting the Spot with Miles, Hobie, Gwen and Pavitr. You remember hopping onto Spot’s back while he was absorbing but then he poof and you along with him. Everything went black for you and then you landed here in this city (ungracefully might I add).

You just want to go home…even if it’s lonely without Uncle Ben, Aunt May and Peter Parker.

You really have nothing, rock bottom, baby. But then again, the only place to go is up, right?

Sighing you finished your drink and bagel before leaving the diner, making sure to look at the clock above the exit, and aimlessly walking around. Would they let you in one of those shelters? Are those even a thing? Probably, maybe.

Couldn’t hurt to try. Buuuuut, then again, you need the privacy, so maybe the shelter was a no go. Okay, perfect, back to square fucking zero. A cheap and possibly dangerous motel it is!

Hopefully your spider luck doesn’t fuck you over. You’re honestly thankful for not coming across any batsonas and whatnot. And you were able to get clothes so you say you’re two for two.

After looking around for some time, emphasis on some, you managed to find a motel and get yourself settled. No ID required, just cash, and you internally sobbed at the remaining funds you had left. You really will need a job or a sustainable income.

“Are underground rings still a thing? Is it a thing here?” You mumbled, discarding your stolen clothes before fiddling with your watch until its screen flashes before abruptly turning dark again. “Well now, how fucked am I?” A deep sigh resonated in the empty room. Hopefully while it turned on, Miguel would somehow by some god given miracle (or your spider luck but don’t bank on it) that he received at least a signal, no matter how microscopic it is.

You had to get home. At all costs. This place isn’t your home. It’s not like you should play by the rules. But, Ben, May, and Peter would be so disappointed in you if you break laws just to return to your home universe. And if you’re being truthful, it wouldn’t sit right with you either…

But Miles needs you.

If this world doesn’t have a- you in it, then you aren’t needed here. So you shouldn’t waste time twiddling your thumbs. Maybe you really do need to break into a computer lab to see what’s up with your watch or scavenge for parts. Hobie built it with parts from Miguel’s earth. Meaning, you can too, with whatever scraps you can find.

You’ll prioritize your watch first, then this city. It’s unfortunate, but you really have to get back home, and you can’t let your feelings get in the way and distract you.

Maybe you should call it a night? Figure things out in the morning? A yawn takes over your thoughts. “Yea, sleep sounds really good right now.”

These problems are for tomorrow’s you. For now, you’ll catch some Zzz’s and flesh out a detailed plan on how to get back home.

You’re banking on hacking a computer at the library despite the risks. Shooting a web at the door to prevent any possible and/or unwanted inconveniences because let’s be honest, trust no one but yourself, especially in this bat(ha)shit crazy world, better to be safe than sorry. You need your sanity to fix or at least charge your watch in order to get back home.

“Ben, May, Peter- give me strength.” and into dreamland you go.

“Hey B, come look at this.” A female voice spoke out, catching the attention of the adult in the cave. “I got something to show you. I got a trace of a disruption- but it happened quickly and only once.”

“Where.” A gruff and stern voice asked.

“Around the East End.”

“I’ll let Selina know.”

“Should I get someone to look into it?”

“No, I’ll do it myself.”

With that, silence once again enveloped the Bat cave as Batman stepped out.

Prev; Next;

I'll be honest, I have no outline of where I want this story to go, this is just brainrot hour for me. Less go. A very high chance this will soon turn into somewhat of "yandere" but it's mostly just them being "possessive" honestly. Slooow burn. This was the last thing i had typed up, and I have no clue where I will drive this story, oops.

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ninetailedfoxmanchi · 1 month ago

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The Northern Winds (pt. 3)

PART 1 & PART 2

Summary: Lady Y/N is pregnant again after suffering a miscarriage. Winter is coming and with it spring and the news of Prince Jacaerys coming to Winterfell.

Warnings: pregnancy and its symptoms, childbirth, mention of postnatal depression, mention of rape, mature NSFW content (18+), SPOILERS FOR HOUSE OF THE DRAGON/FIRE AND BLOOD (both what has happened and what will happen in the end!!!)

A/N: Let me just say that I cried writing the ending of this story

Taglist: @nixtape-foryou @accountforreading123 @melsunshine @lovemesomevesey @goldenxshine @beebeechaos @mckennah123

@blonde-scandinav1an @letaliabane @answer-the-sirens @lilyed777 @travelingmypassion

***

Before long the Lady of Winterfell was high into her pregnancy and with it arrived a white raven from the archmaesters of the Citadel announcing the winter was upon them. If anyone knew of winter, it was the Northerners. A third of the crops of every harvest had been stored for winter ever since the first white raven arrived sending word of the summer’s end. The winter town beneath the walls of Winterfell filled eagerly once more, its houses, markets, and taverns bustling with life. Fire burned ceaselessly in every hearth making the view from the towers of Winterfell seem like the night sky with stars not of silver but of gold.

The Lady of Winterfell stood atop of one of Winterfell’s watchtowers, observing the smallfolk rushing among the houses and the passageways, taking care of the final errands before the day’s light would be consumed by darkness. Even as the night set in, Lady Y/N could still see them hurrying about because of their torches and lanterns to light the way.

Lady Y/N pulled her heavy cloak closer, supporting her great belly beneath it. If everything was as it was supposed to be, childbirth was not far away. The thought of it filled Y/N with equal measures of joy as well as worry.

The first few moons with child were not easy. Lady Y/N was abed for most of it, sick with nausea and barely keeping anything down. She did not care for food other than salt beef and rusk bread. Even oranges that were once her favourite she could no longer stand. And simply the smell of ale would make Lady Y/N sick immediately. Although it was Cregan’s preferred drink, he ordered it not be served at feasts any longer if the Lady Stark was strong enough to attend. As for him, he would drink wine instead or hippocras when the winter truly set in and the cold was strong enough to bite off your fingers.

Maester Bennard too was with Lady Stark most every day, brewing remedies for her nausea but with very little effect. Yet as the babe grew stronger, the sickness disappeared almost overnight. Lady Y/N regained her strength and her love for oranges and resumed her duties as the Lady of Winterfell with much eagerness although always beneath the watchful eye of Lord Stark. His hard, grey eyes would not leave his wife during council meetings, lingering either on her or her slowly growing belly. As someone who always wielded power, even as a child for Cregan was his father’s heir, Lord Stark came to know complete powerlessness for the first time in his life when his wife fell with child. Whilst he could command his men and wield his great longsword, Cregan could do little when it came to his yet unborn child. Whilst Lady Y/N was abed with sickness, Lord Stark would often leave the leading of the council meetings to his maester and his other trusted advisors. If anything were to go wrong again and Cregan would not be there for his wife, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Lady Y/N too was worried, especially during the first half of her being with child. She could not sleep for fear of waking coated in blood. She had nightmares and was sometimes so tired, not only from sickness but from fear, that she could only leave the bed to use the privy. Yet this time, Cregan was there by her side, watching over her and making sure that his wife had everything she could want and need. When Lady Ellyn was away to get some rest as she tended to Lady Stark at all times, the Lord of Winterfell would stay by his wife’s side, keeping a watchful eye even when Lady Y/N slept. But as the pregnancy neared the end, both the Lord and the Lady of Winterfell quickly forgot about the worries of the past and had no choice but focus on the present.

“If you are trying to freeze to death, there are easier ways than standing atop of a tower,” said the Lord of Winterfell as he joined his wife. Lady Y/N turned around, meeting her husband’s warm smile with her one of her own.

“The cold air does me good,” said Lady Y/N as Cregan wrapped his arms around her, his nose buried in the fragrant skin of her neck.

“Of course,” murmured Cregan, “You are carrying a northern child.” He kissed the part of Y/N’s neck not shielded by the red fox fur of her blue cloak. Goosebumps rose of Lady Y/N’s arms as she placed her hands on his that were supporting her belly. The babe kicked and although the sensation was uncomfortable for Y/N, it always filled her heart with warmth at the proof of new life.

Lord Stark could not help but smile when he felt his child move beneath his touch. But then his excitement faded some. “Does it hurt you when he does that?” asked Cregan his wife. Lady Y/N was surprised by his question, yet she should not have been for Cregan’s curiosity never ceased and his questions never remained only in his thoughts.

“It is uncomfortable but not painful,” said Lady Y/N before she could actually comprehend what Cregan said.

“He?” asked Lady Y/N, a grin growing on her lips. She turned around to look at Cregan. If it were not for the darkness of the coming night, Y/N would be able to see the heat creep into her husband’s cheeks.

“Or she,” said Cregan quickly, his eyes shifting between his wife and their unborn child. “Either one will do,” said the Lord of Winterfell as he knelt before his wife and kissed her great belly, leaning his forehead gently against it. Lady Y/N ran her gloved fingers through Lord Stark’s hair, secretly wishing their child, be it a boy or a girl, to have their father’s eyes.

Lady Stark placed her hand on Cregan’s cheek when he got up, her thumb smoothing across his wind-lashed skin.

“I too think it is a boy,” confessed Lady Y/N in a gentle voice. Cregan’s grey eyes had never before seemed so big and childlike to her as in that moment when his lips were parted but his mouth at a loss for words.

Lady Y/N stepped on the tips of her toes before Cregan cupped her cheeks and guided her closer. He kissed her ardently again and again, unable to detach himself from her love.

***

A snowstorm raged outside that morrow when the Lord and Lady of Winterfell broke their fast on fried eggs and boiled ham before they would attend the council meeting. Yet as Lady Y/N climbed the stairs of Rodrick’s Tower, a terrible pain spread from her back to her abdomen. A loud gasp escaped her lungs as Lord Stark turned around hastily, Lady Y/N’s hand grabbing onto his arm.

“What is it?” hurried Lord Stark.

Y/N gasped again at another wave of pain, followed by a strange sensation and a small gush of fluid trickling down her leg. A striking pain shot through her abdomen alone this time. Lady Y/N cried out in pain and would have fallen to her knees if not for Cregan holding her.

“The babe … It’s coming,” breathed Lady Y/N, her nails digging into her husband’s forearm.

Cregan did not hesitate and wrapped his arms around his wife, picking her up with easily yet with great care. “Hold onto me,” said Lord Stark and carried Lady Y/N to the birthing chambers. He shouted to the servants to get the maester and the midwife as his wife cried out in pain. Her breathing grew even faster when Cregan laid her into their bed. Y/N caught his hand, begging him with her eyes not to leave her side. Tears gathered in her vision as all of her fears and worries returned to her. She was not much afraid of the pain but for the babe. She would not be able to bear losing it.

“You will be alright, my love,” said Cregan and kissed Y/N’s brow. He brushed away the hair that stuck to her forehead before loosening the strings on her dress. A small sob escaped Lady Y/N’s lips as she paced her breathing whilst they waited for the maester and the midwife.

“I’m not going anywhere,” assured Cregan, holding his wife’s palm with one hand and caressing her cheek with the other. “I promise, my love.”

Lady Y/N nodded just as Maester Bennard, midwife Othella and her ladies-in-waiting arrived.

The maester asked Lord Stark to leave as was customary but Cregan would not be moved from his wife’s side. It was unheard of and yet not a soul dared to say a word of protest.

Lady Y/N remembered her mother’s letters of her own time with child and how Lord Jonos was never remotely interested in the babe until it was born. Lady Whytefort was supposed to visit before Lady Y/N went into labour but the snowstorm must have kept her in a lesser lord’s castle somewhere. Y/N had hoped her mother would be there when the babe would arrive yet she was grateful Cregan was there at least.

Lady Othella, the midwife who assisted the Lady of Winterfell in childbed, was no highborn lady at all but the smallfolk and the noble alike addressed her as lady for the many children she helped deliver and save when the labour was difficult. Lady Othella was a short woman of petite stature yet her hands possessed the strength that could wield a sword. She wore her hair in a coif of deep blue but her tawny locks more oft than not slipped onto her pale, heart-shaped face.

“Breathe, my lady,” instructed Lady Othella as the servants made the bed more comfortable for Lady Y/N. They placed pillows behind her head and beneath her hips, relieving some of the soreness in her back.

Lady Y/N nodded and paced her breathing. Her pains were still very far apart yet no less painful.

The labour lasted through the day and well into the night although there was no telling the time as the snowstorm raged on outside the windows of Winterfell. Near the hour of the ghosts, Lady Stark’s labour pains grew stronger and more frequent, now only moments apart.

Lady Othella announced it was time under the careful supervision of Maester Bennard.

Y/N let go of Cregan’s hand as she was sure she was going to crush all the bones in his hand. She gripped onto the linens instead but the Lord of Winterfell made her take his hand once again.

Lady Y/N pushed and pushed and prayed that the baby would come and come healthy.

“You are almost there, my lady,” encouraged Lady Othella, giving Lady Stark the last bit of strength she needed to push her baby into the world.

A sense of relief came over Y/N as the pressure was gone and the babe’s crying filled the room. Lady Y/N’s loud and fast breathing was scattered with the crying of happiness as Maester Bennard cut the navel string and the babe got wrapped up in clean linens.

“My congratulations, my lord, my lady,” said Lady Othella, a warm smile spreading across her lips. “You have a son.”

Lady Y/N fell the breath get knocked out of her for a moment, her big, pensive eyes wide with wonder as she stared at her son in the midwife’s hands. Lady Othella gave her the babe as Lady Y/N reached out with her hands and Lord Stark finally let go of his wife’s hand. Y/N pressed the babe to her chest instinctively, her mouth full of sobs as the babe’s crying eased. She looked at her husband whose grey eyes flickered between the child no larger than his two hands put together and his beautiful wife, his beautiful wife who just gave him a son.

Cregan’s vision became blurred. He could not remember the last time he cried for it was when he was still a child himself. Yet as Lord Stark saw his wife holding their son, his heart filled with joy indescribable to anyone and at the same time with fear so great he thought it would break him.

Lord Stark got up and kissed Y/N’s forehead, his hand barely touching the babe for fear of hurting him. The baby nuzzled into his mother’s chest, recognizing the warmth and the comfort of her body.

“We have a son,” Lady Y/N cried from happiness as she looked up at her husband.

“We do,” said the Lord of Winterfell in a quiet voice. “Rickon?” asked Cregan as he looked at his wife, his eyes were big and pure as a child’s.

“Rickon,” agreed Y/N and smiled at her babe.

***

After the long and tiresome labour, Lady Stark had time enough to rest and recover but would not let a wetnurse feed her son, not when she could do it herself. Maester Bennard advised against it and encouraged Lady Y/N to focus on recovering and to leave the babe to the wetnurse. Lady Othella did not share his opinion entirely, which was the cause of many quarrels between the maester and the midwife already during Lady Stark’s pregnancy.

Maester Bennard looked to Lord Stark for support, speaking of how the late Lady Gilliane Stark, Cregan’s mother, always entrusted her children into the care of a wetnurse as did the wife of Cregan’s uncle, who had three healthy sons.

Lord Stark stood by the small window of the birthing chamber, seeing how the terrible snowstorm was beginning to cease. The wind whistled and howled violently all the while as the Lady of Winterfell was in childbed.

Lord Stark turned to Maester Bennard when he felt his scholarly gaze on his back.

“You will do as my wife says, Maester Bennard,” said Lord Stark, his arms crossed pensively over his broad chest. His voice was as even and cold as steel.

“You are a maester of the Citadel and are highly valued in my household, Bennard – not only as a learned man but as a friend,” continued Lord Stark. “You are a maester of Oldtown yet you are neither a woman nor a mother and that is no fault of yours, so you will do as Lady Stark commands even if she chooses not to heed your advice.”

Maester Bennard lowered his gaze and bowed, “As my lord commands.”

The newborn babe suckled happily on his mother’s breast, who in equal measure could not be happier herself. Lady Y/N was not opposed to a wetnurse yet she wanted to care for her babe as much as she could on her own, particularly now when the babe had hardly been born.

Once Lady Othella and Maester Bennard retired, assuring Lady Stark was in as good health as she could be, Cregan allowed himself so sit beside his wife and his newborn son. Lady Y/N held the baby with one hand but reached for her husband’s palm with the other. She brought it to her lips and kissed it, her eyes closed as she did so.

“Thank you,” spoke Y/N gently, leaning her head tiredly against the pillow as she watched her husband.

“Whatever for?” asked Cregan, his sharp brows in their usual frown. He had done absolutely nothing whilst his wife did everything.

“Everything,” said Y/N nevertheless, gently holding onto Cregan’s hand. “Did I break all of your bones?” she smiled, brushing her thumb across the top of his palm.

“I think I still have a few of them left,” grinned Cregan as he looked down at his wife’s small hand in his. His heart weighed heavy in his chest but he did not know why. Perhaps he was so happy that some of his happiness had to turn into sadness or he would burst with joy.

“What is it?” frowned Y/N when she saw the melancholy in Cregan’s features.

I’m afraid, Cregan wanted to say. I’m afraid to lose you and I’m afraid to lose our son. Strange how new life so quickly reminds one of death.

“Cregan?” asked Y/N softly when he did not speak. Cregan only sat closer and kissed his lady wife, kissed her again and again, first on her lips then her nose and her cheeks and finally her brow. Cregan leaned his forehead against Y/N’s, his eyes shut tight.

“I love you,” promised Lord Stark and sealed it with another kiss.

“I love you,” said Y/N and caressed her husband’s cheek. The baby cooed when it was done feeding, now happily nuzzling against his mother’s warm chest.

“Do you wish to hold him?” asked Y/N with a smile. Lord Stark froze in place, his eyes round and his lips parted.

“I don’t know,” said Cregan and watched how the happiness dimmed in Lady Y/N’s bright eyes. “My hands … What if they are too rough for him?” said Cregan warily. “What if I hurt him?”

Lady Y/N’s smiled once again. “You won’t, I promise,” said Y/N as she sat up with Rickon resting securely in her hands. Cregan mimicked the shape of his wife’s arms and waited patiently for her to place his tiny, delicate son into his hands. The babe missed the comfort of his mother’s body and let out a cry and then another, each startling Cregan more than the other. But as soon as the babe found the warmth of his father’s chest he stopped his crying and sighed contently. Cregan felt his body tremble as he held his son, seeing how he blinked his small, storm-grey eyes.

When Lord Stark looked up once again, he saw how his wife had fallen asleep, her hand outstretched towards him. Cregan sat close beside her and listened to her soft breathing. As he watched his son, the Lord of Winterfell vowed to himself to destroy anyone who would ever think of harming them.

Come morning, Lady Stark awoke with her husband was sleeping beside her, his arm entwined with hers. She sat up quickly thinking of her son only to see him sound asleep in his bassinet. Lady Y/N laid back down, coming to realize how sore her body was. Every muscle in her body felt uncomfortable. She turned on her back, unable to supress a groan that woke Lord Stark from his light sleep.

“Will you please ask for Maester Bennard?” asked Y/N as she tried to sit up. Her body was something she did not recognize. A mess of pain and discomfort and unpredictability.

Cregan jumped to his feet and called the servants, who fetched Maester Bennard. In the meantime, Lord Stark returned to his wife’s side.

“Are you in pain, my love?” asked Cregan as he knelt beside the bed.

“Everything hurts,” confessed Lady Y/N but it was only normal to feel this way. She had been in labour for near a full day before the babe was delivered. Y/N needed help to use the privy and when she returned Maester Bennard was there with his assistants. He gave her instructions of recovery and some remedies for the pain.

“I would have a bath,” asked Lady Y/N, looking at her maester for advice.

“I believe it would do you good, my lady,” agreed Maester Bennard as he gathered his potions in his ornate, wooden box. “I would also advise warm cloth for your belly and your chest.”

The servants prepared a nice, warm bath whilst Lady Ellyn and Lady Jocelyn helped Y/N out of her clothes. Lifting her legs only slightly proved a greater challenge than Lady Stark could have foreseen. The warm water helped remedy the soreness of her body, however. Y/N allowed Lady Ellyn to help her wash as she could barely find the strength to move her aching limbs.

“You did so well, my lady,” said Lady Ellyn gently as she sat beside the bath, her thumb drawing circles into her friend’s hand. “You have the most beautiful son, you ought to be proud.”

Lady Y/N managed a smile but could not help but feel an unusual melancholy creep in. Lady Whytefort wrote to her of her own mother’s sadness after she gave birth to her. Lady Cerwyn – then Ryswell of the Rills before she widowed and remarried – was said to have locked herself in her chambers and refused to care for her daughter for near a moon’s turn. But afterwards when Lady Y/N’s grandmother recovered everything was as if nothing had happened. Even Y/N herself had not known of this prior to her lady mother’s letter although she was close to her maternal grandmother and stayed at the Rills many a summer’s moon.

Lady Y/N shared this story with Lady Ellyn.

“I am sure you have nothing to fear, my lady,” Lady Ellyn tried to reassure her friend although she had heard of similar experiences happening to other women. “Even if such a thing should occur, you have your ladies and a host of wetnurses who would die to serve House Stark. You would recover and all would be well, I am sure of it,” tried Lady Ellyn. What her friend spoke was true Y/N knew and yet she could not help but feel like a failure at just the thought of not wanting to care for her son. However, as sore and tired as Lady Y/N felt, she could and would not judge any woman who would feel the way her grandmother did upon birthing her daughter. Y/N could not even imagine how difficult it must have been for her own mother especially with a man like Lord Jonos. Lady Y/N loved her father dearly in spite of it all, but she could not stand the way he treated her mother. Especially not now when Y/N saw herself there were different ways of leading married life, good and gentle ways.

Lord Stark returned to Lady Y/N’s chambers. He had washed and shaved and had a change of garments. He seemed tired, a pensive expression hiding in his features.

“I would have a moment with my wife,” said Lord Stark to Lady Ellyn. She got up and curtsied. “If you are able,” said Lord Stark, now turning to his wife.

“I will get dressed,” nodded Lady Y/N.

Lady Stark was helped into a comfortable gown of cerulean blue and white Myrish lace with pearl embroidery whilst she had the servants braid her hair. The warm bath helped Lady Y/N with her pains, allowing her to walk with the support of her lady-in-waiting.

Whilst the Lady of Winterfell had a change of garments, the servants had brought food and drink aplenty for Lord and Lady Stark to break their fast on. They prepared a hearty broth rich with venison and grains for Lady Y/N to recover her strength, offering congratulations left and right as she sat down. Lady Stark reserved a smile for each of them no matter how low- or highborn.

“Could you find any rest, my love?” asked Lady Y/N once the servants left the Lord and Lady of Winterfell to break their fast in peace. Y/N took Cregan’s hand, the warmth of his touch instantly reassuring her. Cregan had dark circles beneath his eyes and his skin appeared ashen. He had not left his wife’s side not for a moment since she went into labour and stayed awake for as long as he could even after Lady Y/N had already fallen asleep.

Lord Stark rose his pensive, grey eyes to Y/N. “How can you ask me that when you have just given birth to our son?” said Cregan gently as he squeezed his wife’s hand in his.

“I could not have done it if you had not been there by my side,” said Lady Y/N genuinely. She paused.

“Are you happy?” asked Y/N anxiously. Cregan’s brows furrowed into an incredulous frown.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Only … You seem distant,” said Lady Y/N, watching her husband’s eyes for any trace of doubt.

“Forgive me,” said Cregan heavily yet his voice quietened some as he looked towards the window.

“Tell me,” asked Lady Y/N, not ungently, and squeezed her husband’s hand reassuringly.

“I …” began Cregan. “I had a brother,” said Cregan, his grey eyes returning to his wife. Y/N stared at him, her mouth parted. “He died aged only two when I was ten-and-one.”

“You cannot remember him from your time here at Winterfell. You could not even if you stayed for a full moon and not a day. My mother did not like him leaving his chambers. He was sickly … He had been since he was born,” said Cregan. “I … I barely knew him …”

“I am so sorry,” said Y/N, not knowing what else to say. She reached out to him, enfolding his calloused palm between her hands. They had been wed for more than a year and yet Y/N had never heard Cregan nor anyone else for that matter mention Lord Stark having had a brother.

“What happened?” asked Y/N gently.

“Fever took him,” said Cregan, his gaze focused on his wife’s hands clasped around his own. “First it took my mother, then Benjen not even three nights after,” told Cregan, his voice deep and sombre. “He was named after my grandsire.”

“I am so sorry, my love,” spoke Y/N gently.

Lord Stark got up from the table and stood by the window, his gaze reaching out beyond the walls of his strong castle.

“At least my mother did not have to see him die,” said Cregan to himself more than to his wife. “At least the Gods spared her as much.”

Y/N stared at her husband’s back, coming to realize where Cregan’s melancholy and pensiveness came from. The birth of their son agitated old wounds and disturbed the present. Cregan did not so much feel the loss of his brother when he held his newborn son; rather, he came to understand his mother’s worry and fear at the prospect of having to bury her child.

Lady Y/N gathered what strength she could and got up from the table on her own. Lord Stark turned around but Y/N was already by his side. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, Cregan’s hands instinctively wrapping around Y/N’s waist as he buried his nose in the warmth of her neck. Cregan let out a breath he did not know he was holding.

*** 2 YEARS LATER ***

As the cold and heavy winter went by leaving nothing but darkness and snow, a hope of spring returned when a white raven flew in from Oldtown bearing news of the winter’s end. Although the snow was never quite gone north of The Gift, the blizzards and snowstorms grew scarcer and were replaced by days of warm sunshine at Winterfell.

Despite the winter and Lord Stark’s frequent visits to the Wall before the snow became too tall to travel, there was always some form of joy and merriment in the castle walls of Winterfell. As little Rickon Stark, the firstborn son of Lord Cregan and Lady Y/N Stark, grew older and bolder by the day, he kept his noble parents busy even when there were no lordly duties to attend to.

“Rickon tells me you are going to show him how to ride to-day,” spoke Cregan softly, his voice deep and husky in the hour of the nightingale. His fingers were tangled in his wife’s hair, their foreheads nearly touching as they savoured the last moments of peace before the castle would be bustling with errands and duties to attend to once again.

Y/N rose her big, sleepy eyes to her husband’s. “He will only sit ahorse,” said Lady Y/N quietly, tracing her fingers across the scars on Cregan’s chest. “Mayhaps I will let Ser Tybald lead him around the courtyard if Rickon will wish to,” considered Y/N aloud.

“Of course he will, he is your son,” laughed Cregan, secretly delighting in his wife’s soft touch.

“Is he not your son too?” said Y/N aghast as she grinned, leaning on her elbow. “I suppose you preferred learning the names and banners of Houses to spending time with swords and horses,” she teased.

Cregan smiled and pulled Y/N into a kiss, her arms resting on his strong chest. She moved even closer, deepening the kiss as she harboured a secret to tell her husband. But as his arms wrapped around Y/N’s hips eagerly, she forgot all about the news and straddled Cregan’s waist instead. He pulled off her nightgown, his hands reaching immediately for her soft breasts. Cregan sat up and kissed them as Y/N’s hands tangled in his dark hair. She moaned when he found her sweet spot, knowing her body better than sometimes she did.

“Mommy! Mommy!” called a small voice running around the hallways of Winterfell. Y/N gasped as her gaze darted towards the door.

“Gods,” muttered Y/N hastily and jumped off the bed where she picked up her nightgown and slipped it on just in time. Cregan laughed as he leaned against the bedframe, watching a deep blush flush his wife’s cheeks as Rickon burst into the room, wrapping his arms around her mother’s knees.

“Good morrow, little one,” said Y/N, her eyes locking with Cregan’s when she picked up her son and held him to her. “Should you not be abed?” Lady Stark asked of her son but made eyes at her all too amused husband.

“I wanted to see you,” said Rickon cheerfully although there was sleep in his eyes.

“Alright, little warrior,” said Cregan as he got up from the bed. “Your mother is right. Back to bed.” Cregan took his son from Y/N’s arms, the playful, teasing look in Cregan’s eyes making Y/N’s knees weak. A shivery breath escaped Y/N’s lips as she watched her husband’s bare back when he walked across their chambers.

Rickon’s wetnurse was already at the door of their rooms yet dared not come in.

“I’m so sorry, m’lord,” said the wetnurse as she took Rickon from Lord Stark’s arms.

“That’s alright,” said Lord Stark gently, running his hand through his son’s dark hair one last time before he returned to his private chambers.

Cregan slipped his arms beneath Y/N’s bum and lifted her up eagerly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to their bed. He sat down, his large hands squeezing his wife’s soft thighs. Cregan went for his breeches but Y/N stopped him.

“Let me do it,” she spoke softly, her voice laced with desire. She dropped to her knees and undid Cregan’s nightbreeches, pulling them off with haste. Cregan watched as his wife took him in her mouth, her tongue sliding skilfully along his length. Cregan threw his head back in pleasure, his fists balling around the linens of their bed to keep himself from climaxing immediately. As Cregan groaned in pleasure his eyes met Y/N’s. She stopped, teasing her husband.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” muttered Cregan and quickly pulled Y/N into his lap.

“Show me,” she breathed against his lips, her heart beating harshly against her chest.

Cregan took Y/N’s waist and turned her around, pulling off her loose nightgown yet again. His fingers found her breasts once more as he kissed her neck one last time before he took Y/N’s hips and entered her. Y/N moaned loudly as she clawed at the furs of their bed. Cregan’s thrusts were hard and even before he slowly escalated his pace. Y/N could not help but whimper in pleasure as her husband’s fingers tangled in her long hair, pulling on them gently. Cregan leaned down and kissed her from behind, his hips moving faster and then slower as he felt himself nearing his pleasure. He reached around Y/N’s waist with his hand, his fingers nestling between her thighs. Y/N winced in pleasure, leaned into his touch and only moments away from complete pleasure. Y/N whimpered halfway through a moan, climaxing sooner than she anticipated. She leaned her head against the bed as her eyes closed, Cregan’s fingers digging harshly into the soft curves of her hips. Cregan’s seed dripped down the inside of Y/N’s thigh before they both fell flat on the bed, their bodies tangled and exhausted from divine pleasure.

***

After breaking their fast in Benjen’s Hall, Lady Stark took her son Rickon to the stables as she promised. Ser Tybald provided a well-natured, chestnut pony with mane the colour of butter for Lord Stark’s firstborn son.

“Let him smell you,” said Lady Stark and lifted her son into her arms. “Like this,” she showed by placing her palm gently to the pony’s muzzle. Rickon reached out hesitantly but when the pony leaned her muzzle against his hand, he smiled with eyes as happy as ever.

“You have to name him now,” encouraged Lady Stark, “But you have to name him carefully for he will carry that name for many years.”

Rickon looked at her with big, round eyes, his mind whooshing with a thousand ideas. He looked at his horse again with his lips parted.

“Squire,” said Rickon determinedly.

Lady Y/N watched as her son reached for the pony’s muzzle once again, mesmerized by Rickon’s likeness to his father.

Y/N kissed her son’s temple and put him down, allowing the master-of-horse to show him how to properly saddle and ready a horse. She watched as he was sat into one of the saddles, first off horse and later on Squire. He beamed with joy when Ser Tybald asked him if he wanted to have a walk around the courtyard.

“Mother, may I?” called Rickon from atop of his butter-maned pony.

“You may,” allowed Lady Stark, her lips spreading into a smile at the sight of her boy content. “Only be careful and hold on tight.”

“I will,” promised Rickon, his little hands wrapping tightly around the horn of the saddle.

Lady Y/N pulled her cloak closer to her as a cold, spring breeze swept through the walls of Winterfell.

“What did he name the horse?” asked a voice behind Lady Stark. She turned around, her eyes finding those of her husband.

“Squire,” smiled Lady Y/N.

“Of course,” said Lord Stark, unable to disguise a grin off his lips.

Y/N wrapped her hand around Cregan’s elbow, pressing closer to him. “What did you name your first horse?” she wondered.

Cregan smiled, “Jester.”

Lady Y/N could not help but snort a laughter, finding the name so very fitting of Cregan as she imagined him as a young boy. He laughed with her, almost asking the same of Y/N but quickly remembered.

“Blackspur was my first,” said Lady Y/N all on her own, the smile on her lips turning into a melancholy one. Ser Tybald had to put her down soon after the beginning of the new year for she had grown sick. It was the kindest thing to do, knew Y/N, yet that acknowledgement made it hurt no less. Blackspur had a long and comfortable life, longer than many horses. Those were the only thoughts that could make Lady Stark’s grief less painful.

“I know,” spoke Cregan and kissed his wife’s temple.

Suddenly echoed an approaching sound of hooves against the cobblestones. Lady Stark stood up straight, detaching herself hesitantly from Cregan’s warm body to welcome unexpected guests. Yet only two riders crossed the Hunter’s Gate into the castle, leading a beautiful filly tied to one of their saddles. She had long muscular legs, her coat of raw umber brown. She shook her head, her mane alike in colour, as the horsemen dismounted and one of them took her into Winterfell’s stables.

“Wait for me,” asked Cregan of his lady wife before he met with the other horseman, who bowed their heads before the Lord of Winterfell. They spoke briefly and even shook hands. Lady Stark’s gaze drifted to her son across the yard when his pony neighed, her heart leaping out of her chest for a moment. Rickon laughed however, savouring every moment before he would have to listen to Maester Bennard’s lessons on Houses great and small.

“Come,” Lady Y/N heard her husband call. She turned her attention to him but saw the riders leave through the Hunger’s Gate. They were gone as quickly as they arrived.

“What is it? Is their horse injured?” asked Y/N once at her husband’s side. Knights and lords, especially of smaller Houses, often brought their mounts to Winterfell if the animal was ill or injured for Winterfell had one of the best stables in the North.

“She is in perfect health,” said Cregan as he led his wife into the stables. The ash brown filly paced restlessly, her elegant head turning towards the strangers coming to see her. She was young, only just old enough to saddle.

“Why did they bring her then?” asked Y/N, admiring the magnificent animal and wondering if per chance they wanted Ser Tybalt to break her in and have her ready for riding.

“She is yours if you want her,” said Lord Stark, his gaze shifting between his wife’s eyes and the filly he chose for her.

“What?” gasped Lady Y/N, looking up at her husband’s expecting eyes. She was at a loss for words.

“I know she cannot replace Blackspur but—”

“Thank you,” Y/N cut Cregan off before he could finish. She took his hand and stepped on the tips of her toes to kiss him. He leaned down for her, his strong arms wrapping around her waist. Y/N pulled away slowly, looking around to make sure they were alone. Ser Tybald was still leading Rickon on Squire and informing him all about caring for horses.

“I have to tell you something, husband,” said Lady Y/N, biting her lip as she could not help but smile. She looked down at her Cregan’s chest and the silver direwolf emblem resting between his collarbones.

“What is it?” asked Cregan, his brows quickly jumping into a gentle frown.

“I am with child again,” whispered Y/N as she looked up into her husband’s eyes. The emotions in the greyness of his irises swirled like a great summer storm.

“Say it again,” breathed Lord Stark incredulous.

“I am with child,” repeated Lady Y/N, her smile as bright as ever as she observed her lord husband’s reaction. Cregan pulled her into his arms eagerly, his hands cupping her cheeks as he kissed her deeply. Y/N’s palms rested against her husband’s chest as she could not help but smile into the kiss.

“Mommy!” called Rickon’s small voice as he came running into the stables. Ser Tybald followed him with Squire.

“Can I ride again in the after-noon?” begged Rickon, his eyes as big as stars. The boy knew the answer would be ‘no’ but with his mother at least he stood a chance.

“Ask your father,” smiled Lady Y/N, her hand creeping into her husband’s palm.

“Father, may I?” asked Rickon carefully, his arms locked behind his back as he swayed left and right ever so slightly, his eyes resting on his father’s boots. He knew the answer this time too.

“Tomorrow,” said Lord Stark. “Come, Maester Bennard must be waiting for you.”

Speaking of which, as soon as the Lord and Lady of Winterfell returned inside the castle they were met with Maester Bennard. He was out of breath, his normally pale cheeks flushed with fever.

“My lord,” Maester Bennard gasped for breath, “My lord, urgent news from Dragonstone.” He handed Lord Stark a scroll of parchment with a broken seal of a red, three-headed dragon.

Cregan placed Rickon into his wetnurse’s care before he unrolled the raven scroll. “It’s Prince Jacaerys,” told Lord Stark aloud as he turned to his wife. “He is coming to Winterfell.”

***

As they lay in bed that night and Cregan’s hand rested gently on the barely visible bump of Y/N’s belly, neither the Lord nor the Lady of Winterfell could fall asleep. The night was bright and the moon shone invasively through the windows of their private chambers.

“What do you think he wants?” whispered Y/N quietly in case Cregan managed to fall asleep. She need not have asked for she knew, she only did not want to accept it.

“I do not know,” spoke Cregan gravely. “But I do now my father swore an oath … I swore an oath.”

News of trouble and strife in House Targaryen had long been flying north to Winterfell. The ravens more oft than not came from outside the walls of the Red Keep, coming from the Riverlands and the Vale and even from the Reach. The matter of succession seemed to be settled when King Viserys the Peaceful declared his daughter as his heir and future queen. Yet upon his death, appeared to have formed two camps that the smallfolk and the great alike called the Greens and the Blacks. The first supported Prince Aegon’s claim to the throne as he was King Viserys’ eldest son and the latter the claim of Princess Rhaenyra. If the North was to get involved in the war within House Targaryen, Winterfell would declare for Princess Rhaenyra as it did when King Viserys was still alive.

Y/N’s heart grew heavy in her chest. She placed her hand atop Cregan’s that was resting on her belly and squeezed it tightly. A shaky breath escaped her lips as she stared at the ceiling, knowing full well she will not find any sleep tonight.

“Hey,” whispered Cregan and leaned on his elbow. He caressed Y/N’s cheeks, making her look at him. “We will not know until he is here,” Cregan tried to reassure her some. He could not tell if it was the moonlight glistening in Y/N’s eyes or whether they were tears he saw, but Y/N nodded nevertheless if only to give her husband some peace.

The following eve came word from New Castle. Prince Jacaerys spent the night in White Harbor with his dragon Vermax and would fly for Winterfell in the morn.

The castle was up in preparation for the welcoming of the royal prince. Lady Stark ordered the kitchens to prepare the finest dishes of roast boar and pheasant in a sauce of almonds. The best casks of ale and wine were to be brought from the cellars of Winterfell and the Great Hall arranged appropriately. Only the highest and noblest of councillors were to attend the feast upon Prince Jacaerys’ arrival alongside Lord Stark and Lady Y/N.

After only just bearing through the winter, neither the Lord nor the Lady of Winterfell were too pleased to prepare a dozen sheep and goats for the prince’s dragon to feast on yet they had little choice in the matter.

Lady Stark chose a gown of ash green and pale white in the colours of Winterfell with a belt of white gold with the emblem of two direwolves’ heads baring their fangs at one another in its centre. She wore a necklace and earrings of emerald stones encrusted with diamonds that Cregan had gifted her upon the birth of their son.

The Lady of Winterfell paced around the Great Hall, making sure everything was perfect for the feast. Although she had put tremendous effort into the evening, both she and Cregan decided to keep the spirit of things much alike they would for any other highborn lord or lady coming to visit. Even though House Stark bent the knee to House Targaryen many years ago, the sense in the North was still that of House Stark’s rule.

Lady Y/N did not truly consider the prince’s dragon until she heard it screeching and roaring above the castle walls. Her heart sank as her eyes grew big coming face to face with her husband.

“Come,” said Cregan, holding out his hand. “He is here.”

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell gathered outside, greeted by the early spring snows. Lady Stark wore a heavy cloak of cloth-of-silver and wool, with fur of the grey wolf. She held her hands locked together before her, her breath coming out in clouds. It was nightfall already as she gazed into the sky. Her mouth went dry at the sight of an enormous, bat-like figure dancing in the sky. The beast screeched, irate with the cold and the snow.

The prince descended into the courtyard of Winterfell’s castle, the force of the dragon’s leathery wings sending snowflakes back into the sky. Prince Jacaerys dismounted and spoke to his beast in High Valeryan before meeting the Lord and Lady of Winterfell.

Lord Stark bowed his head and Lady Y/N curtsied gracefully before the crown prince.

“My prince,” said Lord Stark first, his words echoed by his wife.

“Lord Stark,” greeted Prince Jacaerys. “My lady,” he said, kissing the top of Lady Stark’s gloved hand. She offered a small smile but could not help but notice the prince’s youth although there were not many years of difference between them nor between him and Cregan for that matter. It was true what they said, however. The crown prince looked little like a Targaryen ought to with his head of brown locks and eyes of green. In truth, Prince Jacaerys looked much more like her own brother, thought Lady Stark, save for the prince’s fox face and slender frame true of House Targaryen.

“Welcome to Winterfell,” said Cregan as he accepted the prince’s hand in his. Lord Stark towered over the prince although he towered over most any man and Prince Jacaerys was no different.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell welcomed the prince into the Great Hall where the noble councillors of Winterfell awaited, bowing and showing their respects to Princess Rhaenyra’s heir and messenger as he would name himself.

Prince Jacaerys was seated to the right of Lord Stark whilst Lady Y/N sat to his left. She nodded to the servants to bring the food and serve the drink whilst the singers sang and played their music. There was no talk of succession nor war or politics until the feast had ended. Although the Lord of Winterfell offered the prince to rest for the night before they talk, both Prince Jacaerys as well as Lord Stark were of a mind to speak now.

They walked the walls of Winterfell to ensure privacy, accompanied only by the cold and the snow. Prince Jacaerys looked toward the winter town, seeing but a few of the lights that warmed its houses during the past two years.

“I see winter is still true in the North although they say elsewise at the Citadel,” spoke the crown prince.

Lord Stark smiled although he wished to laugh. “These are only the spring snows, my prince. During winter, all that you see was covered in snow and all memory of warmth was neigh forgotten.”

Prince Jacaerys turned to his mother’s sworn vassal. Cregan Stark was a man hardened by cold and winter, a man seasoned in battle and in swordplay, whose reputation as one of the best swordsmen in all of the Seven Kingdoms preceded him. Lord Stark was only a few years his senior and yet he had seen and lived the life of a man.

Prince Jacaerys looked at Lord Stark with both envy as well as admiration. He was a royal prince and yet he had not lived or done as half as Lord Stark.

“I confess I wished to see the Wall,” said Prince Jacaerys, stirring his thoughts in another direction. “It would have pleased me to meet with you in the place where our ancestors treated.”

“Indeed,” said the Lord of Winterfell, the fur on his heavy coat ruffled by the cold winds. “At least you have the mercy not to threaten me with your dragon.” Lord Stark’s words cut a uncomfortable silence between the two young men.

“Surely the great Torren Stark would have sooner died than bent the knee. Unless he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms.”

“You are right in that,” agreed Lord Stark as they walked along the walls of his castle.

“That unity is now threatened,” urged Prince Jacaerys. “The realm will soon tear itself apart if the men do not remember their oath sworn to King Viserys. And to his rightful heir.”

Lord Stark stopped. “Starks do not forget their oaths, my prince,” said Cregan sombrely. “But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between north and south. In the winter, my duty to the North and to the Wall is even more dire than what I owe to King’s Landing,” spoke the Lord of Winterfell as they continued walking. “I need my men here.”

This time, Prince Jacaerys held his step. He frowned at his mother’s vassal, his temper as quick as any Targaryen’s. “Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne.”

Lord Stark did not heed the haste of Prince Jacaerys’ words and climbed into the northmost watchtower.

“If my mother is to defend her claim, to hold the realm united,” said Prince Jacaerys, following him into the nest, “She needs an army. War is coming – to the whole of the realm, my lord. We cannot wager without the support of the North …” spoke the prince, his words losing breath as the vastness of the North opened before his eyes. An endless sea of white spread before him, disturbed only by shadows of trees and moving clouds of snow.

“My father brought King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne to see the Wall. His grace watched as their dragons, the greatest power in the world, refused to cross it,” told Lord Stark as the prince found his breath.

“Do you think my ancestors built a seven-hundred-foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?” said Cregan, looking the crown prince dead in the eye.

The young prince stared at him pensively. “What does it keep out?” he asked.

Lord Stark eyes darkened. “Death.”

The Lord of Winterfell walked Prince Jacaerys inside the castle. He felt the weight of his father’s oath, the oath that was his own.

“I have thousands of greybeards who have already seen too many winters,” said Lord Stark. “They are … well-honed.”

“So they are old?” asked Prince Jacaerys, his brows raising slightly. They had reached the chambers prepared for him.

Lord Stark nodded solemnly but the North needed its best men to remain.

“I can ready them to march at once,” promised the Lord of Winterfell.

Prince Jacaerys smiled, grateful for Lord Stark’s dislike of pretence.

“If your greybeards can fight, the Queen will have them,” agreed Prince Jacaerys.

A smirk crept into the line of Cregan’s mouth. “They will fight hard, like Northerners.”

***

Y/N could not even find it in her to sit down, much less fall asleep until Cregan returned to their chambers. The hour was late yet Y/N was as awake as it were mid-day. She stared at her husband expectantly when he returned, a great tiredness set in his features.

“He wants our men to fight for his mother’s claim,” confirmed Lord Stark.

And what of you? Does he want you? Y/N wanted to ask but could not make herself speak.

“I told him my men need to stay in the North. The Wall must needs be protected,” said Cregan. Y/N’s chest dropped with an exhale of relief yet only for a moment.

“I offered him my greybeards,” spoke Cregan before he walked over to one of the chests with his belongings. “I will go south as soon as they are ready to march.”

Cregan’s words knocked the wind out of Y/N as her heart dropped to her stomach. She grew sick with nausea.

“I thought to save this for another occasion,” said Cregan as he took a large package wrapped in cloth of silk from one of the painted chests.

Y/N stared at him astounded but took the parcel that he offered. She laid it carefully on the bed, pulling apart the silken wrapping. A coat as white as snow lay underneath, trimmed in fur without a single hair of colour. Y/N’s lips parted as her fingers glided through the fur as soft as butter. She frowned for she knew it came from a beast as rare as any. No wolf or mink could ever produce such a soft and white coat.

“Winter fox?” Y/N thought out loud, her big round eyes rising to her husband’s.

“To keep you warm if I do not return before the next winter,” said Cregan with a small smile although he could not hide the guilt and melancholy in his grey eyes.

Y/N looked at him thunderstruck. She did not care for the coat no matter how magnificent; all she wanted was her husband.

“Before the next winter?” gasped Y/N. “But … That could be years. That will be years.”

“I swore an oath, Y/N,” said Cregan with a heavy heart. “I cannot send my men south with no one to lead them.”

You swore an oath to me too, Y/N wanted to say but was glad she did not; the last thing she wanted was to argue. She understood that the realm was more important even if she herself would have let it burn to the ground if it meant her husband would remain by her side.

Y/N looked down at Cregan’s chest as her eyes welled with tears so hot they felt as cold as ice.

Cregan did not have the words to comfort her. He only pulled her into his arms, holding her head to his chest as she wept quietly.

*** ANOTHER 2 YEARS GONE BY ***

Many moons went by, then a year and then another during which Cregan’s letters maintained Lady Stark’s sanity. If not for her children and her ever faithful friend Lady Ellyn, Y/N would be sure to lose her mind. However, with one child running around and another at her hip - a daughter born in the late spring that she named Sarra - time went by quickly for the Lady of Winterfell after the first few moons without Cregan.

The council held news of the progress of the Targaryen war in the south. It received reports of the little prince Jaehaerys’ assassination, the death of Princess Rhaenys and her dragon Meleys at Rook’s Rest, King’s Landing changing rulers faster than the wind changes in the North, and even news of Prince Aemond’s death met at the hands of Prince Daemon at God’s Eye, where the lake swallowed both Targaryen princes as well as their mighty beasts.

All the while the news of war arrived from the capital and its surrounding Houses, the Lady of Winterfell prayed in the Godswood for her husband’s safety, that neither he nor his army be met with dragonfire, and that he returns safely to her, to Winterfell, to see his son grow and meet his daughter.

Lady Stark taught her children the ways of the Old Gods and spoke often of their father. Sarra was but a near a babe still yet Rickon had known and loved his father well. He cried many a night after Lord Stark marched south, and Lady Stark cried too. However, as time passed by, Cregan’s absence became easier to bear and life forced everyone to continue living. Seed needed to be planted for the first crops and people were beginning to leave the winter town abandoned to return to their farms and fields. The castle needed mending after the harsh winter as did the Wall, and lords from all over North came to House Stark for help.

In the meanwhile, Lady Y/N grew great with child and her lady mother came to stay until the babe was born. Lady Y/N had it easier with Sarra than she had with Rickon both in terms of early sickness as well as her time in childbed. Her daughter was born in the early hours of the morning, the labour lasting only a few hours. Sarra was a small, fragile babe but quickly grew stronger as the spring turned brighter and warmer. Although Rickon looked much like his father when he was born, he had grown more and more into the character of both his mother and father. He loved climbing and riding and pestered Ser Harwyn every waking moment to train him at swordplay. Sarra, however, was silent and calm. She looked like her mother with eyes that were exactly like those of Lady Stark.

The summer neared when a raven arrived bearing Lord Stark’s grey direwolf. Lady Y/N sat with the letter in her husband’s solar and read.

Beloved wife,

I encountered no war to speak of when my greybeards entered the red city. King’s Landing has long yielded to the many deaths of its kings and queens. I held court for six days to seek punishment for those who ended the life of King Aegon II, for no king should die of poison but on the battlefield with honour. I sought punishment for those too who conspired against the rightful heir. Many decided to take the black and join the Night’s Watch than to die at the blade of my sword. Those are the ones who will return north with me whilst many of my greybeards decide to remain in the south and in the Riverlands to attend the Widow Fairs.

I was offered a place in the king’s service that I could not accept. I long to return to you and our children, to see the towers of Winterfell rising before my eyes. When they place the crown on the boy king Aegon’s head, I will gather my men and we will march home.

Cregan

Lady Y/N reread the letter over and over again until it was engraved in her memory. Her heart beat harshly against her throat as her eyes watered yet she did not weep. She folded the letter and held it to her chest, closing her eyes as she leaned back in her husband’s chair. A ride from Winterfell to King’s Landing took a moon’s turn at the least, more with an army marching with you. Yet it did not matter. He was coming back. Cregan was returning home.

***

Lady Stark took to the Wolfswood with Ser Harwyn and an escort of knights following not far behind. She rode her mare neigh every day, the ash brown filly her husband gifted her after the passing of her beloved Blackspur. Lady Y/N named the beast Tempest for her temper and the ashen colour of her coat. Although Blackspurt had been wary of strangers but warmed up to them eventually, Tempest did not care for them. If she disliked any of them, she would show it by stomping her hooves or kicking, her teeth snapping at many a stableboy’s hand. But she was different with Lady Stark. There was a bond between the temperamental mare and the Lady of Winterfell no one could quite understand. Even in her pregnancy, Tempest sensed the change in her mistress, and whilst the horse did not care for her caretakers, she never lashed at children.

One evening Rickon resented his mother for not being to tell him when his father would return from the march. It has been close to two years since Lord Stark left for the south with his greybeards. The boy disappeared from his rooms in the night with no one being able to find him.

Lady Y/N’s first instinct was to check the stables and Squire but the boy was not there and the pony was in his stall. Whilst the castle was up in the search of Winterfell’s heir, young Rickon was hiding right where they first searched for him – in the stables. He meant to go to Squire, his beloved pony, yet as he stepped into he stable, the noise aroused Tempest.

Rickon tread carefully towards her, knowing of her temper but could not help himself. His curiosity was too great. He looked at the ashen brown mare in her stall, her breath coming out in clouds in the cold night. Rickon approached the iron bars of her door, carefully raising his hand to her muzzle. Tempest snorted, frightening little Rickon so much he fell to his butt. He did not understand why but he picked himself up and tried again. He brought his hand up to Tempest’s muzzle once again and let her smell him. Her muzzle was warm and wet against his touch, causing a smile to spread across Rickon’s lips. He carefully pushed open the door to her stall and met her, standing twice his size. His heart was thumping in his chest with excitement but he was not afraid.

They found the boy in the morning when one of the stableboys brought Tempest her grain and came to clean her stall. The mare was lying in the hay, staring warily at the stableboy whilst little Rickon slept against her belly.

Cold northern winds whooshed through the forest, rocking the tall trees of Wolfswood. Lady Stark’s gaze rose to their swaying crowns as she took in the fresh air after being cooped up in council meetings and hearing of the issues of the smallfolk. She had to condemn two thieves and a rapist – the thieves lost the same amount of fingers as the chickens they stole whilst the rapist chose death over taking the black and Lady Stark was glad for it.

Every time the Lady of Winterfell had to condemn a rapist she remembered the bandits who attacked her many years ago right there in the Wolfswood. She could not forgive herself for not taking an escort that time. If she had, the knights would have cut down the delinquents and they would never have had the chance to despoil that peasant girl. Lady Stark often rode past her father’s farm to see how they were living. When the girl wed last year, Lady Y/N then found a way to pass by her husband’s carpentry shop, making sure the girl and her family had everything they needed. It pained Lady Y/N to see the girl bow her head to her and curtsy clumsily when Y/N passed by on Tempest when she was the one who wanted to drop to her knees and beg the girl forgiveness.

“Have there been any more news from King’s Landing?” asked Ser Harwyn, the master-of-arms at Winterfell, waking Lady Stark from her thoughts.

“Not since Rhaenyra’s boy was crowned,” said Lady Y/N, leading her mare up a gentle slope.

It has been more than two moon's since the youngest son of Queen Rhaenyra was crowned Aegon III Targaryen although the smallfolk had already named him Aegon the Unlucky.

“Mayhaps Lord Stark took rest at Riverrun,” suggested Ser Harwyn, following his lady up the slope on his tall red gelding.

Lady Stark did not say anything. She would not allow herself to think of Cregan’s return for she found it consumed her thoughts and she could not find the will to do any of her duties if she did so. When Cregan left to fight the wildlings shortly after they were wed, Y/N felt almost as if she were greeting a stranger when he returned; and they have been parted for only four moons. It has been more than two years since they last saw each other now. Y/N could not bear to think of her husband finding company in another woman’s arms, of his love for her blowing away like the leaves off a dying tree.

“I would return to the castle though Stone Creek,” said Lady Stark to keep her thoughts from drifting.

“Past the girl Alys’s house?” asked Ser Harwyn although he already knew the answer. He as well as any who were there that day when the bandits were tried and condemned by Lord Cregan Stark knew the wroth of the Lord of Winterfell and the justice of his lady wife.

It was Ser Harwyn too who found the girl for Lady Stark and told her of her name and where she lived. Alys wed a carpenter, a boy her age with yellow hair and eyes the colour of the sky.

As Lady Stark commanded, they passed though Stone Creek on the way back to the castle. It was a small village of some half a dozen farms and their respective fields. The smallfolk stopped their work when the Lady of Winterfell passed on her tall mare and bowed their heads with respect. The Lady Stark wore a gown of pale poppy red with hems and bodice embroidered in the string-of-gold. It has been more than five years since Lady Y/N of Whytefort became their Lady of Winterfell yet none of her beauty faded in that time. She only grew further into her womanhood although ruling Winterfell made Lady Y/N harder. It strengthened her back in her saddle and firmed her slender yet womanly body with authority.

Lady Stark passed by the girl Alys’s house. She saw her in her garden surrounded by blooming herbs as she fed the chickens, her newborn baby crying softly in its woven bassinet. It has been a while since Y/N passed through Stone Creek for the last time she saw Alys was when the girl was still great with child.

Lady Stark smiled to herself and spurred Tempest on. The escort of knights followed as their hooves thumped through the small village. Winterfell already rose in the distance when the sky turned grey, its menacing clouds foretelling rain.

The company spurred their mounts to a leisurely gallop as they crossed the fields and meadows back to the safety of the castle. A drop of rain fell here and there but Lady Stark hoped to reach Winterfell before the downpour. The air was thick with humidity in the face of the summer. Y/N thought she heard thunder in the distance yet her eyes fell upon a darkness beneath the walls of Winterfell.

Lady Stark reined Tempest to an abrupt halt at the sight of the massive host of warriors beneath her castle. Ser Harwyn and the knights pulled up their mounts to a sudden stop as well, their horses neighing and pacing anxiously.

The sound of Y/N’s heart echoed through her mind as hot fever crept up her neck. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Gods,” gasped Lady Stark soundlessly as more raindrops began to fall but her gaze was set on the horizon.

Y/N's heels nudged Tempest’s belly as she urged her on with haste. They fell into a gallop so swift that Lady Stark’s hair escaped her pearl-embroidered net and floated freely in the wind. The castle approached quickly yet not nearly quickly enough. Tempest’s long muscular legs outran the other mounts who carried knights clad in heavy armour. Lady Y/N passed through the winter town, nearly knocking down a man and his flour cart in her haste. The sound of Tempest’s horseshoes against the cobblestones of the castle echoed in Y/N’s ears along with the wild beating of her own heart.

Lady Stark reached the innermost courtyard as thick raindrops began to fall in the thousands. As Y/N reined Tempest in, the young mare nearly rose to her hind legs. Tempest paced restlessly and snorted loudly as her breathless mistress sat frozen in her saddle. Y/N’s eyes found her husband standing beneath the stone canopy of the castle’s entrance, his formidable grey eyes awaiting the sight of the approaching rider.

Y/N’s breathing was loud and laboured as heavy rain fell down her face. Thunder echoed through the sky as Lord Stark came out to her. A stableboy rushed in and took the reins of Lady Stark’s mount. Cregan’s arms went to his wife’s waist as he lifted her from her saddle and helped her down. Y/N’s hands gripped onto Cregan’s arms, holding him tightly. To her, he looked the same as the day he left her. Her eyes welled with hot tears as heavy rain poured on the both of them.

“Is it really you?” asked Y/N, tears falling down her cheeks. Her body trembled. “Are you … Are you really back?”

Cregan watched her beautiful eyes, deep like pools with hope and longing. “It’s me,” he spoke as his large sword-calloused hand caressed her cheek, the tip of his thumb brushing across her lips. Cregan leaned in and kissed her desperately, having dreamed of this moment for what seemed to him a hundred years. His arms locked around Y/N’s waist, her feet no longer touching the floor. Even as they reached for air, their lips returned to one another’s, not being able to let go of each other’s bodies.

“Father,” said a small, breathless voice yet it was the only voice that could make the Lord and Lady of Winterfell tear away from each other.

Rickon stood beneath the stone canopy, not being able to believe his eyes either.

“Father!” called Rickon and ran out into the summer rain, his arms wrapping around his father’s neck. Cregan picked up his son and held the boy close to him, his heart aching with the time he had missed fighting for a crown he did not care for.

“Did you look after your mother, son?” asked Cregan against his son’s hair. Rickon pulled away, his big grey eyes meeting his father’s as he smiled.

“I did,” said Rickon proudly, “And I looked after Sarra too.”

Cregan turned to Y/N with Rickon securely in his arms. His grey eyes were drenched with guilt and love so profound he did not know how he was able to contain it in his chest.

“I would meet her,” asked Cregan, his voice soft as he stole another kiss from his wife. She took his hand and nodded as they got away from the rain.

Sarra was down for an afternoon sleep when Y/N showed Cregan to her nursery. The wetnurse stood up and bowed, startled as she saw the Lord of Winterfell had returned.

"Leave us please," Lady Stark gave her a small smile. The wetnurse bowed again and left the Lord and Lady of Winterfell with their daughter.

Cregan knelt beside Sarra’s small bed, his heart ripping into a thousand small pieces. A shaky breath escaped his lungs as he caressed his daughter’s soft hair from her face.

“She is so beautiful,” whispered Cregan, unable to take his eyes off Sarra. “She looks just like you.”

Y/N ran her hand across Cregan’s broad shoulders as she stood beside him, her heart filled with so much happiness it brought tears to her eyes. The Gods listened to her prayers.

Cregan took Y/N’s palm and kissed it as rain dripped off her long hair. He looked up at her. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

“I missed you, my love,” said Cregan as he stood up, his hands cupping Y/N’s cheeks. “I always dreamed of you.” He caressed Y/N's face gently with his thumbs, his gaze memorizing her beautiful eyes. Cregan kissed his wife tenderly.

#house of the dragon #game of thrones #hotd #house of the dragon fanfic #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #hotd cregan #cregan stark x y/n #winterfell #house stark #the wolf of the north #cregan fanfiction

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vxsellie · 26 days ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ TO WASH ASHORE !

pairing : pirate!ellie williams x siren!reader

synopsis : ellie wakes on a remote island, delirious and hallucinating as she spots a sea creature watching her from in the sea, your sharp eyes tracing her every movement. already deeming herself to be losing her sanity, ellie sees no harm in calling you over.

a/n : bare w me here guys idk what im doing, this idea is so random but im trying to do it justice at least ! MCD WARNING BTW

wc : 4.3k

ellie williams has lived a life of barbarity and brutality, living among pirates as a woman in disguise. of course, nobody would allow a woman aboard a ship, not to even mention the ship of a notoriously infamous pirate renown for his perfection and flawlessness. so, her fellow crew members know her as eli. a man.

she'd been sailing in disguise for nigh a year now, growing close with the pirates and getting to know life at sea. she's even built quite a reputation for herself ⎯ elijah williams, cruel and callous. captain miller's golden boy.

"avast ye!" a barrelman calls out from the crow's nest.

those on deck turn their attention toward the man. ellie halts her work and lifts her head up toward where he sits, putting a hand to her forehead to block the sun from her eyes.

one of the gunners climbs the shrouds toward the barrelman, scaling the lines swiftly. he pauses when he reaches the top, the two men conversing for a short moment before the barrelman passes the gunner his spyglass. the gunner's eyes widen and he begins talking frantically to the barrelman, both unsure on what to do. ellie watches the exchange from the deck, highly invested in what got the men so worked up.

she hears footsteps approach her from behind and she turns around to face whoever it is that comes to her. captain miller. she instantly straightens her back, the quintessence of respect for the man of authority.

he waves a hand at her, "oh relax, williams. you haven't gotta act so on edge all the time."

"easy for you to say." she scoffs, deepening her voice an octave. "you ain't gotta change to be accepted. you're the captain, you can do whatever you damn well please 'n nobody can give you shit."

"i suppose," he agrees. he then turns the topic around, peering up at the men atop the crows nest. "what're they doin' up there?"

ellie shrugs, "i haven't a clue. seems troublesome, though."

miller hums in acknowledgment, staring up at the two men who grow more and more frantic with each passing second. they hand the spyglass to one another back and forth, taking turns looking through it and exclaiming things of nervosity. ellie follows their gazes, turning toward where they aim the glass.

there, in the distance, she can see the formation of clouds beginning to fester along the horizon. its barely noticeable from her place on the deck unless one knows what to look for. but, if she were up high, the sight of such a storm would likely terrify her.

"a storm." ellie says.

miller turns to look at her, a brow raised. "come again?"

"that's what they're lookin' at." she explains, meeting his gaze with her brow knitted. "a storm is brewin' out there and we're heading directly into it."

miller doesn't need any proof of this, believing ellie without hesitation. and, within mere minutes, of her declaration, he's appointed roles and tasks to each of the two hundred crew members aboard. gunners are tasked with moving the ballast and heavy barrels into the hull; the pilot is given a stern talking-to on how best to handle this situation; the riggers are told what to do and which lines to pull.

ellie, being the quartermaster, is tasked with keeping the crew at bay. miller tells her she needs to keep them calm and level-headed, give them hope and whatnot. she nods, hurrying to do just that.

as they near the looming clouds, the sea grows angered. waves come up over the taffrails, soaking into the floor of the deck. the winds pick up, forcing the riggers into action. she alternates between people, assuring them that they're doing well and they'll make it through this. however, as she watches the storm grow nearer, she isn't quite so sure of that herself.

she sees a group of brutes, standing around without a role yet. she approaches them with her hands on her hips and a hardened expression on her face. "the fuck are you doin'!? batten down the hatches!" she orders. instantly, the men rush into action, tying things down and putting things away for the coming weather.

ellie's heart beats frantically in her chest as rainfall begins to drench her. she pulls her hat farther over her face, making sure that her hair is all tucked away and her coat remains loose.

the sea grows in her rage, throwing massive waves over the bow. crew members begin to lose faith, their minds descending into despair. ellie tries to keep them at bay for the most part, but it's fruitless. their hopelessness is no longer malleable. she curses under her breath, knowing exactly why miller appointed her this role ⎯ if the pirates lose hope, they won't work as efficiently at their jobs. even if wreckage is inevitable, they'd at least have a chance.

she glances around, the gunners breathing quick as they shakily trek back and forth. the riggers grow fatigued in their mission of manning the sails, the pilot grips the wheel tightly but not confident enough. the ship teeters on the waves, thrashing around with each one.

"fuck," ellie mutters, wiping salt water from her eyes as she rushes to the helm. she ascends the stairs and approaches the pilot with as kind as gaze as she can muster whilst so irritated. "okay listen," she says, causing the pilot to turn to her with wide eyes.

"elijah?" the pilot questions, "what're ya doin' up here? go help the others."

"won't be able t' help the others if ya crash the ship." she points out. "move, let me steer."

the pilot appears reluctant, but eventually gives in and moves. ellie takes the wheel, flexing her fingers against the wooden material. the feel of the wheel in her hands is comforting, reminding her of how she first began as a pirate ⎯ a small pilot who blended into the background for months.

she tips her head at the pilot, wondering why the hell he's still standing there. "go help the gunners, tar."

"oh, uh⎯" he nods quickly, "yes, sir!"

with that, he scurries off to assist those in need. ellie watches from the helm as he bustles about, seeking out those who need an extra hand. once she's sure he's doing as he was told, she averts her attention back to the task at hand.

the waves are growing by the second, more and more water taken over the bow. a few of the swabbies dumping buckets of seawater overboard. she spins the wheel, hard. the ship swerves to the right, hitting the next comber at an angle. a few of the pirates stagger on their feet or fall over, but nobody falls overboard so ellie counts that as a win.

her change in angle allows the ship to take in far less water. the crew members will need to embrace their sea legs a bit more, but overall the damage is now far less. a few of the pirates whip their head in her direction, knowing their previous pilot would never have the balls to whip the wheel so hard. when they see ellie "elijah" at the helm, many of them seem relieved, knowing she's a great pilot. if anybody can aid them in survival, its her.

this goes on a few more times, yanking the wheel hard to the side as to avoid water filling the deck. but as time progresses and the rain refuses to die down, the amount of overtake grows unavoidable. by the fifth wave, the swabbies are forced to resume their buckets. by the eighth, more pirates rush to their aid.

ellie grits her teeth, mentally scolding herself for having not done more despite it being nigh impossible to avoid water overtake. she grips the wheel tightly, tossing the wheel to the side as the ship lurches in that direction. they hit the wave inelegantly, one of the riggers falling from a shroud and into the water with a deafening splash. she ignores it, unable to part her mind from the task at hand.

she hears footsteps bound up the stairs of the helm, rushing to her. she sideglances in their direction, not surprised to see captain miller approaching her.

"what're our chances?" he asks her, bracing a hand on the rail of the helm that overlooks the deck, having to grip onto it to avoid toppling over.

"of survival?" she asks, turning away from him and toward the next wave that rolls in their direction. "not lookin' too good, i'll tell ya that."

"give me a precent."

"about 18." she says with a sigh, the ship overtaking a huge amount of water from the bow, two swabbies getting washed away with the wave. she forces herself not to think about their deaths, tightening her grip on the wheel until her knuckles turn white.

"fuck that." miller declares. "we ain't dyin' out here."

"don't have much of a choice, i'm afraid." ellie tells him, yanking hard to the left, the wheel spinning out of control for a split second as the water catches control of the rudder. she fumbles to regain reign over it. once she does, her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as she shoots miller a look. "i'm doin' everything i can, but i can't promise it'll be enough. this storm ain't relenting."

he narrows his eyes at her. "what's your name, williams?"

"excuse me?" she questions, momentarily caught off-guard.

"ya deem me fool, do ya?" he questions. "i know you're a woman. if we're all dyin' anyway, at least tell me your real name. you should be able to tell someone before your life ends."

"ellie." her chest feels heavy as she speaks her actual name for the first time in a year, throat feeling tight with the foreign sound of it on her tongue. she blinks water out of her eyes and she tells herself it's rain, though she's not entirely sure.

"well," miller says softly, nigh inaudible over the heavy rainfall pattering loudly against the sea around them, "it's nice t' meet ya, ellie williams."

she turns her head to face him, brow knitting. their eyes meet and she gives him a gentle smile, eternally grateful for his acceptance of her despite her year-long life of lies. apparently, that split moment of distraction is all it took for the storm to hit. while ellie's distracted by the unexpected turn of events miller voices, mother nature decides to attack while her guard is down.

a huge wave swells over the bow, water yanking the ship forward into the sea. ellie yelps as the wheel yanks from her hand, rudder being tugged by the sudden change. as the bow goes down under the surface, the stern goes up in the air. ellie's feet slip out from under her, her backside slamming against the vertical deck. miller's do the same.

as ellie slides downward toward the water below them, she feels a hand grab her by the wrist. she looks up, breathing hard. miller is still holding tightly onto the railing with his right hand, his left now holding ellie's entire weight.

the ship is vertically positioned, the bow slowly sinking into the aggravated sea as the stern is high in the air, teetering unnaturally.

she stares up at miller with wide eyes, her mind reeling at the sudden change in atmosphere. she'd told them they were likely to die, but she hadn't actually been ready to face death straight-on. the feel of powerlessness licks up her spine with a cold touch of dread and despair.

"ellie!" miller shouts, her attention snapping up to him. "i ain't lettin' ya go! don't lose⎯"

his words are cut off by a barrel coming down from the helm and hitting him in the head. the heavy weight of the wood knocks him out cold, his fingers going slack on the railing. they both instantly fall from the stern. she screams as she falls, sound interrupted as her body collides with the ocean. her throat burns, eyes stinging as she forces them to open in the water.

she looks around under the surface, ignoring the agonizing sting in her retinas. she's surrounded by wood and debris and fallen pirates. buts she's looking for one in particular. joel miller.

he's nowhere to be seen.

her heartbeat picks up, her lungs contracting with lack of oxygen. her mind begins to swim, unable to comprehend all that she's lost within a mere few seconds. she feels herself begin to sink as her eyes go dark, the weight of her body being dragged down by the merciless pull of gravitation.

she shuts her eyes, allowing the earth to pull her under the water and towards its core. consciousness plays with her, pulling her in and out of it. not a single coherent thought runs through her mind as she sinks down, down, down,

just as she comes to terms with death, shaking its hand and accepting its sudden control over her, something else grabs her other hand. something soft, a gentle caress of fingers wrapping around her wrist. life.

ellie's chest constricts as she shoots up, the feel of water in her lungs as she gags on it. the feel of pain welcomes her before the feel of relief does. her throat burns, her body is weak, her eyes sting. everything aches so very agonizingly that nothing else really matters to her.

she rolls over, getting on her hands and knees as she coughs and hacks water from deep within her chest. once she manages to level out her breathing enough to form an intelligible though, she realizes what she's on.

her fingers dig into soft sand, the sediment wedging under her nails. she lifts her head, eyes wide in shock. she's on an island, tiny enough she can see right across to the water on the other side. she looks around some more, taking in the scarce amount of shrub and grass.

she huffs out a laugh, disbelief and delirium encircling the sound as it slips past her split lips. the light chuckle soon turns into boisterous cackling, tears welling in her eyes as she realizes she's alive. she's breathing, feeling, living.

through blurred vision, she grazes her eyes across the island, once again taking in the beautiful sight of it. she leans back on her knees, sitting on her folded feet. here gaze suddenly snags on something lying a few feet from her. a body. she narrows her eyes, praying that this island isn't inhabited. but when she recognizes the shape of it, she instantly rushes to its side.

captain miller. joel.

she crouches beside him, turning him onto his backside. she leans down, pressing an ear to his mouth, desperation filling her up as she listens for any sign of life. then she hears it. breathing.

it's croaky and crackled, but breathing nonetheless. she straightens. he's alive. once he wakes, he'll cough a bit and be in indescribable pain, but he's alive. she moves him onto his side to avoid him choking on his own saliva, tipping his head into the sand a bit.

her mind is moving at a million thoughts per second, ellie can hardly keep up with her own brain. she leans back, staring at joel's head as she breathes heavily, trying to grasp what exactly has happened. only an hour ago, she was⎯ wait. how long ago was that? for all she knows it may have been days since the shipwreck. it may have been months. she looks at the sky, hoping to be able to tell time by it somehow.

the sky is clear, blue and brilliant without a cloud in sight. but her clothes are still wet and so are joel's. plus, she isn't starving to death yet, so she decides it's only been a few hours.

her mind races, suddenly stuttering on one thought in particular: who the fuck got them out of the water?

if it were another crew member, they'd be on the island with her and joel. if it were another ship crew, they'd be dead before they could reach the depth of which she'd sank by then.

she traces her eyes along the horizon regardless, hoping she might see a ship or something to point toward who's responsible for this. that's when she sees you.

her brows raise at the sight of a girl so far out in the surf, water up to your shoulders. your hair is wet, clinging to your neck and forehead. you aren't wearing a top, bare shoulders peeking from the surface.

ellie squints her eyes, wondering if she's going crazy or not. the heat is getting to her, clinging to the wet clothes that soak her skin. her hat is missing, auburn hair now askew atop her head. she puts a hand to her hairline, shielding sun from sight. sure enough, there you remain.

gorgeous and luminary in your presence, out there like a beacon of hope amid chaos. water droplets run down your face, sparking like fragmented glass across your skin.

"hey!" she calls out, unable to stop herself. "c'mere!"

you remain in place for a long moment, tilting your head at her slightly. she worries, for a second, whether you truly were imagined purely out of her mind. honestly, how could someone so beautiful be out here right now? in the middle of the ocean. just standing there. it's impossible.

just as doubt traces up her spine, you begin forward.

your movements are languid, almost like you're made of water yourself. the tangible embodiment of the sea, beautiful and mysterious just like the ocean. ellie finds herself unable to look away, a wordless spell cast to immobilize her.

you continue forward, bare chest veiled by your long wet hair. like a fish on a hook, ellie crawls toward you. her jaw is slackened, eyes sparkling. you keep most your body in the water as you near her, lower waist never breaking the surface. ellie doesn't give much thought to it, to enamored by the sight of you.

you stop at the waterline, lying on your stomach. you bury your elbows in the sand, resting your chin on the palms of your hands. ellie stops right in front of your, her eyes wide as they search your face.

"...beautiful..," is all ellie is capable of muttering. you tilt your head at her, slow and steady. she continues to stare at you, awe-struck. the smallest smile manages to tug at your lips and ellie finds her heart speeding at the mere sight of it. you shut your eyes, grinning at her.

"thank you." you say.

ellie's ears perk at the sound. your voice is music, tone a melody. she can't help but yearn for it to be played on loop. over and over until she takes her final breath.

"y-you⎯" words feel foreign in her mouth, nothing coming out correctly. she shakes her head, touches of crimson staining her cheeks. she blinks a few times as she refocuses on your face, taking in every feature that adorns it. "you're⎯"

"what?" you croon, a gentle hum from the back of your neck. she finds herself leaning in at the soft sound, needing to be closer. needing to hear you better. your eyes sparkle at the sight of her desperation, scooting farther back ever so slightly. "i'm what?"

a breath escapes her lips as she stares. "you're beautiful."

"mm," you sound, blinking at her slow and seductive. she falls for it. of course she does, they all do. that's your curse.

"how⎯" she blinks down at the sight of you in the water, having emerged from the surf all on your own. "how'd you⎯"

you tilt your head again, though this time for another reason. you do it as to move it out of her line of sight, allowing her eyes to rest on the tail that grows from your hips. it's about five feet in length, blue and shiny. the scales catch the light, glittering like magic. the fins are translucent, filtering sunlight through the thin material.

she stares at it, unable to tear her eyes away. whether that be to delirium or adoration, you're unsure. so is she.

"i saved you," you mutter, drawing her gaze back to your face. your brows are furrowed, sincerity knitting them with a thin thread of deception. she blinks, the threads blurring together into a gentle curiosity. she leans in again. you lean back. the palms of her hands are now in the water, encircling her wrists with rocking waves against the shore. she continues to crawl toward you. out of mere pity, you refrain from easing back more. it'd be too easy that way ⎯ killing a starved pirate who's been marooned.

"a-and joel?" she blinks, completely unaware of your moral dilemma. she's equally unaware of the way you had been slowly easing into the water. somehow, they never seem to feel the cool liquid around them.

"yes." you confirm, narrowing your eyes at the girl and her soaked form. "yes, i saved your old captain as well."

she exhales, enamored by the information. you take this time to soak in the sight of her. her hair is damp, short auburn strands clinging to her face and neck. her thin white linen shirt is clad against her torso and chest, buttons undone at the top. her heavy brown coat hangs off of her, clearly having been made for a man. her black jeans are baggy, also meant for a male. as are her oversized boots.

"thank you, i⎯" she stammers, licking her lips in thought. "i-i don't know how to⎯"

"hush," you whisper, voice tangling with the waves crashing against the sand. the melody is the same, sediment washing from the shore as ellie does. you lift your hands, cradling her face with cold, wet fingertips. she leans into the touch, her eyes lidded and pupils blown. your gaze softens, "you needn't thank me, love."

"but⎯"

"shh," you place the pad of your thumb on her lips, silencing her. your eyes drop to her mouth, tracing your finger along her bottom lip. she parts them, breath hitching. "i saved you because i was unable to bare the sight of your death."

she doesn't respond, her mind jumbled. you continue, pulling her deeper into the water as she crawls toward you.

"so lovely, so undeserving," you whisper, the water now at her knees, forcing her to stand in the water with you. your hands remain on her face, thumb running along the pink skin of her mouth. she breathes heavily, desperate for more, completely under your alluring spell of seduction.

"closer," she mumbles, likely unaware she'd even uttered the word.

you oblige, the water now at your waists. your tail treads water as she legs continue to inch toward you. she moves forward, never stopping, never thinking, never able to. you stop, allowing to to ease closer. she does.

she braces her hands on your hips, fingers caressing the scales with gentility. so different from anything else you'd experienced. normally, when you seduce sailors, they're lustful and desperate and rough. she, however, is kind. curious wonder strikes her eyes, flecks of love already catching her pale green irises. they remind you of sea grass.

you decide to offer her a kindness before the inevitable death that's to overcome her.

you lean in, the waves crashing at your chests, pushing your toward her. you listen, the ocean being your religion, your beacon of a deity. she does the same, obviously. you continue to cradle her face as she continues to encircle your hips, delicacy lacing her every movement.

you press your lips to hers, your bewitched mind incapable of feeling anything aside from an insatiable hunger for her death. ellie, on the other hand, is seeing stars from the mere feel of her mouth on yours. the way your lips move with such calculated precision, the way your teeth nip at the lip you'd been tracing. it's intoxicating. the taste of you is more addictive than any glass of rum she'd ever had.

sea salt and passion line your lips, salty with its passion. she leans in as your lean away, careful to keep your lips connected the whole way down. while ellie is practically unraveling at the seams, you ease into the water.

the trick here, you've learned, is to kiss your victim. that way, they're already holding their breaths with their eyes closed. you can ease them into the water without so much as a fight.

unfortunately for her, ellie is no different.

she follows your every movement, unaware of how the ocean begins to rise. the way the water begins to clog her ears. you drag her down, filling her lungs with your own tainted oxygen that you're not in need of.

you're now far past the surface, ellie continuing to kiss you despite the way her hands go slack around your waist and her breath struggles to maintain itself. you hate the knowledge of knowing you'd killed such a beautiful soul. but, more than that, you love the taste of her death.

the way death holds her hand all the way down; the way her skin turns to an icy blue that mocks your tail; the way her mouth goes slack against yours; the way her eyes are already closed; the way her lungs constrict.

she dies without a fight, completely uncharacteristic for a woman who'd fought her whole life. for a woman who went disguised as a man for so many years, all of her walls were let down for you ⎯ a mysterious creature of the sea who's name she hadn't even bothered to learn.

and as she does, her last thoughts are of your face and the sound of your voice. she dies with a soft contentment in knowing you were what held her as she was put to an eternal slumber.

if her death could be something of benefit to you, she considers it to have been worth it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist : @luvsturniolo @zzombiegirl

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 fic taglist : @juptology @thefirstromantics @flutterdasher @dinakisser

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ymechi · 1 year ago

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The hidden creator

I had a plot bunny idea

TW: usual cult stuff, hints of yandere

-gn reader (I tried making it gender-neutral if there is a comment that is off please tell me and I will fix it)

EDIT: 14/11/2023 (changed some wording and other stuff nothing major)

Creator Reader Pov:

-You were just a regular person who one day woke up in Teyvat out of all places

-You realized you still had all your game features and figured it was one of the perks of being isekaied like in other isekai stories

-The whole thing is weird and why you were here, you had no idea

-After the novelty wears off you take some time mourning the loss of your previous life and the people you knew

-After that you try to get a semblance of a normal life like getting a job and trying to be independent

-Despite having a game system you do not want to be an adventurer or learn how to fight it's not for you

-You were previously an average civilian and raised as one it would be hard to become a fighter now

-Instead you gravitated towards creating things, you found an apprentice position in a clockwork shop in Fontaine

-It is fun and you get to tinker with gears and clocks, learning how various machines work and how to create your own items

-overall you are content

-Except weird people occasionally come by the shop you work at including the Iudex of Fontaine which had both you and the shopkeeper sweating the first few times

-Yet the man who insisted you call him by his name Neuvilette is really polite and nice to talk to, soon you warmed up to him

-You could not help the feeling as if you knew him from before, as if you forgot something, you were unusually fond of him.

-Your other "clients" if you could call them that were more intimidating, you had no idea what they were doing in this shop and it scared you

-The Fatui Harbringers occasionally stopped by the shop to buy a trinket or two before leaving, it honestly scared you and the thaught of running away to another nation had crossed your mind once or twice yet you liked your job and your boss and you made some good friends here so it was hard to leave

-Overall you were doing okay

-Except it seems the people here almost in a cult-like manner worship a creator that was never in the game lore

-It is said they resided in Celestia and not many people actually got to see them, not that it mattered for a nobody like you

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Tsaritsa Pov:

-The Tsaritsa knew their so called creator was fake

-She knew she had to get rid of the fake creator as they and Celestia had caused irreparable damage

-Even if she had to stain her hands

-One day it happened something shifted in the earth, air, water- no the whole of Teyvat

-It happened so softly like a small snowflake landing on the ground

-She was hypnotized as if a siren was beckoning her she found you.

-You were their true creator

-You were wearing apprenticeship clothes tinkering with something in your hands and deeply concentrated

-She wondered if that is how you created the universe with careful and steady hands guiding and shaping it to your will.

-She wanted to take you away from this. . . small shop, yet she knew begrudgingly you were safe here, if anyone were to find out a sliver of your existence. . .

-You were safer hidden among mortals

-It left a bitter taste in her mouth

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neuvilette Pov

-It just happened one day, out of the blue, he could feel it in the shift of the waters

-The way Furina shifted and turned her head unable to sit still confirmed he was not the only one feeling this

-Something happened and he had no idea what exactly happened

-There was this familiar presence this comforting feeling, ancient old instincts waking up

-He followed it without thought until he came upon an in inconspicuous clockwork shop

-He was confused but did not hesitate to step inside

-Then he saw you and everything clicked

-It was you his creator his universe his everything

-You were back

-It seems in this incarnation you were just a human

-That was fine he was oaky with that as long as you were here

-His heart ached seeing you

-He wanted to hug and ask you to never leave again to always stay by his side, for you to comfort him after what had happened and console him

-He should take you way somewhere safer somewhere better not here-

-But weren't you safer hiding among mortals, a part of his mind whispered, no one would suspect you being here even the fake (he cursed them) would not think of finding you here, if he brought you back with him it would create more attention on you

-Attention that would cause you trouble

-He left with defeat on his steps

-It was later he would met the Tsaritsa and a deal was struck

-All for your sake

#genshin impact #sagau #self aware au #self aware genshin #neuvillette #the tsaritsa #fatui harbringers #fatui #cult au #slight yandere #I am too lazy to proofread it right now sorry for any mistakes #this was just some random idea tbh #the creator reader has no idea they are the creator they just wana tinker with clockworks #neuvilette genshin #when will we get more Tsaritsa lore mihoyo plz-#would you guys think that Pantalone would buy out the whole stock whenever it is his turn to visit?

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shroomdreams · 3 months ago

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Fish Out Of Water

Jiyan x F!Mermaid!Reader

NSFW

CW: Strangers-to-Lovers, porn with plot, monster reader, light angst in the middle, first time, lots of foreplay, unprotected sex, p in v, cumming inside. A/N: I didn’t mean for it to get this long. I’m so sorry yall, I hope you guys enjoy! 6.5k words

Miles off the coast of a settlement in Tiderise Cliff, underneath the waves, a strange being gazes upwards and dreams of the breaching the unknown. You are a creature of the waters, some may call a siren. However, you don’t have aspirations of drowning sailors or anything remotely similar. Simply put, you want to learn more of the strange world above the waters you call home. The one thing that stops is that you don’t exactly look like the “humans” that populate the world. Few times your head pokes out of the water, they’ve mistaken you for something called a “Tacet Discord.”

Still, it didn’t deter you from observing them, watching how their bodies moved. You gained a better understanding of the human form after a year or two of observing them. Despite this, your plans to explore the land was interrupted by the chaos ravaging the area. You hid in the water, hoping for things to calm down.

When they did, you heard that there will be a festival celebrating the defeat of an enormous Tacet Discord. This was your chance! Even if you couldn’t stay for too long, this was your moment to take in the human culture and be among them. However, your first steps were rather shaky… Both literally and figuratively. For one thing, it was a massive learning curve trying to balance on legs, and you fell face first into the sand. Still, you had to press on, holding yourself onto a rock for stability.

“Excuse me, ma’am!” A voice sounds from afar. Looking up, you see a group of humans wearing the same outfits marching towards you. A few of them are looking away as they approach, while the leader of the squad walks up to you. “Are you alright? You took a fall over there…” He says, a light blush on his cheeks.

“Uhm… I’m okay, thank you.” The nervous look on their faces make you apprehensive. The leader scratches the back of his head, clearing his throat.

“That’s good. Have you been attacked in some way?”

“Er, no… I don’t think so.”

The humans seem to look at each other with a certain look, one you can’t really parse. The leader steels his gaze and straightens his back. “I see… Well, you should come with us. It’s dangerous out here. While we have dealt with the threnodian threat, we can’t be too sure…”

So you find yourself with a cloak wrapped around your shoulders, shielding your body from the sunlight as you walk among the humans. You learn that they were dispatched to patrol the perimeter around the settlement to make sure there’s minimal Tacet Discord interference. When you reach the settlement, the leader tasks for some of the humans to go back to patrolling while he and a few others make sure you’re okay.

“We’ll just conduct a quick medical examination, miss.” The woman in the white robe explains. You find yourself inside a tent with all sorts of important looking devices inside, sitting on an elevated surface. “Please tell me if there’s any sort of discomfort.” The woman presses a few instruments to certain parts of your body, sticking a tube in your mouth and taking it out after a certain point. She scribbles something on her clipboard.

“Your vitals are normal, and there doesn’t appear to be anything wrong.” The woman says. “However, there are still a few things I’d like to confirm. Would you mind waiting here for a moment?” After you nod, she walks outside.

“How is she?” A man in teal attire would ask. The woman bites her lip, looking at her notes.

“Results show me that she’s a normal human, but I noticed a few aberrations on her legs. They look like fish scales… and I spotted a tacet mark on the back of her neck. As for any injuries, there’s also a scar on her shoulder. I suspect that it was caused by a bullet.”

“So we have an unidentified resonator who seemingly washed up on the beach…” He rests his chin on his hand, eyebrows scrunched together. “This is troubling. Maybe the result of an exile attack?”

“Considering the patrollers found her without any clothes…”

The silence hangs for a brief moment.

“She didn’t mention any hostility, but we can’t be sure if she blocked out the memory or if she’s actively avoiding the subject. Either way, General, I suggest we handle this delicately.”

“Very well. Have someone bring her clothes. I’ll go talk with her, see if we can make a breakthrough.”

Back inside, you perk up when the tent flaps open, revealing a man with dark teal hair and golden eyes. You note the scales on his face as he takes a stool and sits down, making you look down at him. He smiles at you.

“Hello. How are you feeling, miss?”

You can’t help but smile back, leaning in a bit. “I’m feeling fine, thank you.” You pause. “Uhm, that woman from earlier… Is she coming back?”

“Ah, Dong Mei will return shortly. I’d like to introduce myself. I am Jiyan of the Midnight Rangers.”

Midnight Rangers… That must be the group who found you. From his attire, you get the feeling Jiyan must be someone important to them. The presence of someone like Jiyan suddenly fills you with unease, your eyebrows knitted together with worry as you shuffle awkwardly. Noticing your tension, Jiyan holds his hands up.

“Please, there’s no need to be worried. I merely want to know how you’re currently feeling, that’s all.”

“Well… I feel fine.” You answer honestly. “It’s a bit strange to have this many people care about me. I uhm, I would have thought strangers would be treated differently.”

Jiyan frowns at your reply. “Forgive me, but it’s troubling to hear you say such a thing. What makes you think we’ll just show you door?”

“Uh…”

The words struggle to form a coherent sentence in your mind, staring at Jiyan as you try and supply him with an answer. Nothing happens, leaving you in silence, your hands resting on your lap.

…You decide to change the subject.

“This settlement… They’re celebrating a festival soon, aren’t they?” You ask.

“Yes. Were you planning on attending?”

“Mhmm.” You nod. “It’s actually my first time here. I don’t really know of the customs or any of the rules.” You don’t mention the brief flash of sadness in Jiyan’s eyes as you speak. “I want to spend some time here, if only for a little while. I’ll be gone by the time the festival concludes.”

“Do you have a place to stay for a while? The festival wouldn’t be ready in two days.” Jiyan asks. When you shake you head, he closes his eyes in thought. “…If it doesn’t discomfort you, you can stay with us here until the festival. Will that be alright?”

“Really? But wouldn’t I be a burden to you?”

It’s Jiyan’s turn to shake his head. “Not at all. We have more than enough resources to accommodate one civilian. Now come along, we should get you cleaned up.”

“Oh, I see. Thank you.”

That’s the end of that conversation, apparently, as Jiyan leads you outside. Throwing your cloak on, you follow Jiyan towards a wooden house. “You can take showers here, if needed.” Jiyan explains.

”Dong Mei will come here with your clothes.”

You walk inside the house. Leaving your cloak on a cubby, you walk further inside and find yourself in a room filled with tiny bodies of water, with a few people already inside. You timidly make your way over a pool, surrounding yourself in the water. The warm temperature of bath is way different than the cold sea you grew up in, but it’s pleasant. You scrub away the grains of sand from your face and allow yourself to be cleansed by the water.

After a moment of soaking in the water, you remove yourself from the bath and dry yourself off with a towel. “Hello, miss!” Ah, that must be Dong Mei. You poke your head out and see the doctor from before holding a bundle of clothes. “A helpful couple gave us these clothes, said it’s a hand-me-down from their daughters.”

Indeed, you’re now wearing a modest dress that makes you blend in with the crowd. You giggle, twirling around to make the skirt flare up a bit. After a bit of thinking, you decide to keep the cloak on you. Jiyan smiles when he sees you walk out the bath house with Dong Mei in tow.

“Did you enjoy the bath house?”

“I did. I haven’t had a bath like that ever!” You giggle, clapping your hands. Jiyan laughs along side you. “Uhm, now that I’m clean, may I go down and see the preparations? I know you said the festival wouldn’t be ready for a while, I just don’t want to be idle.”

“It’s no problem. Would you want me to accompany you?”

Dong Mei’s eyes widen, darting towards to Jiyan then to you. A mischievous smile grows on her face as Jiyan blinks, processing the words that escaped from his mouth. “Oh look at that! Haoran and the others came back. I’ll just leave you in the General’s capable hands.” She quickly makes a strategic exit, leaving you alone with Jiyan.

“...Ahem. Well, shall we?”

“We shall.”

The hustle and bustle of the settlement makes for an energetic environment. You ooh and ahh even at the slightest things. Jiyan smiles as he watches your reactions, chuckling as you point out items and decorations.

“Oh! Jiyan, what’s this flower called?” You pick up a pink flower with five petals, inhaling its scent. “I’ve never smelled something so sweet before… Can I eat it?”

“I’d advise you to not do so.” Jiyan replies. “This is a Pecok flower. Usually, the artisans would use it to make seals for important documents. It’s a pretty one.” He looks you in the eye as he speaks, gently taking the flower from you. He brushes the hair from your face, setting the plant in your hair. A slight blush graces your cheeks at the gesture, eyeing the flower from the corner of your vision.

You spend the rest of the day strolling around, pointing out some oddities and asking Jiyan for his opinion. As the sun sets, you realize that you have no idea where exactly to go. Despite the general saying that you could stay in camp, you aren’t entirely sure where exactly you’re supposed to stay at.

“Jiyan,” You look up at him with a small frown. “Where am I going to sleep?”

Jiyan is silent for a moment. “If it it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, then perhaps you could stay with me?”

Your eyes light up, beaming at Jiyan. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you Jiyan!”

Settling in for the night, you change behind a screen and into your night clothes, which is just Jiyan’s shirt. You place the Pecok Flower somewhere safe, kissing one of the petals before going back to your cot. It was actually Jiyan’s first, but he insisted you take it while he takes the sleeping bag. Yawning, you roll over and flash a smile to him.

“Goodnight Jiyan.”

“Goodnight.”

Laying on your back, you close your eyes and drift off to sleep…

In the wee hours of the morning, Jiyan wakes up first. He stifles a yawn, sitting up and stretching his neck. The sun hadn’t even breached the horizon, the firmament cradling the stars in its embrace. He turns to look at your sleeping figure. Your head is titled to the side, drool running from your mouth and staining his pillow. He takes in how your chest rises and falls, the fabric of his shirt riding up to reveal some of your more intimate parts.

The way the neckline droops downward, nearly exposing one of your breasts, while the hem of his shirt just barely covers your rear… Jiyan gulps, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He lays back down. A tangled mess of feelings creates a tapestry of emotions, hung up by his conscience.

You were a resonator who came from out of the blue, with an unknown past and naked as the day you were born. Would he be like the people who had done you harm, Jiyan wonders as he palms himself, shame creeping in his mind. He freezes when you yawn, turning his head to see you smack your lips and adjust your position, facing away from him.

…He decides to take an early bath.

When you wake up, Jiyan is nowhere to be found. Taking a spare robe and your daily clothes, walking to the bathhouse under the slowly rising skies. As you shuck off Jiyan’s shirt, you pause when you hear groaning from somewhere in the bathhouse. When you peek through the door way, your hands fly up to cover your mouth when you see Jiyan doing… something. Urged by your instincts, you quickly turn away as he lets out a loud groan, panting at the end.

“U-Uhm… Is anyone in here?”

He jolts in surprise, hearing your voice. “I-It’s me.” He replies, quickly throwing a towel over his lower half as you walk inside the space. You look elsewhere as you make your way to the pool, setting down your towel before you slip in.

“Good morning, general.” You timidly greet, looking up at him as you sink into the water. Jiyan mumbles out his own greeting, unwilling to meet your gaze. The two of you sit in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds outside. Jiyan can’t help but sneak glances towards you.

“...Jiyan, are you okay? Your face is all flushed.”

“Ah- No need to worry about me. I just… Had to take care of something earlier.”

“I see…”

Ever bashful, you sink further down while only your head pokes out of the water. “If you want, you can uhm, join… me…” Your words trail off, too embarrassed to say the rest. Still, you perk up when Jiyan decides to indulge you, the water rippling as he sits down. Though you aren’t exactly sure of the proper bath etiquette, you decide to move closer to Jiyan. The general says nothing, though he rests a hand on your shoulder.

“...This scar. How did you get it?”

“Oh, that.” You look to your shoulder, tracing a finger over your scar. “Well… It’s a bit of a funny situation. I remember swimming in the waters, diving down to the sea floor to collect shells. When I went up to the surface, I heard someone yell,” You cleared your throat, putting your best impression of the person you heard. “’Tacet Discord! Quick, shoot at it!’”

The color drains from Jiyan’s face as you continued on with your tale.

“So I tried to get away, and they started shooting… Bullets, I think they were called? A lot of them missed me, but they managed to hit my shoulder. And well, here we are.” You giggled.

Jiyan doesn’t share your amusement, instead pulling you in close. “Why do you laugh at your pain?” He asked, searching your eyes for answers. He finds confusion instead. “The fact someone harmed you because they thought you were a TD… What if you were killed?”

You smiled sadly. “I don’t think anyone would miss me, Jiyan. I don’t have family waiting for me, and what little friends I had leave me in the end.”

“Still… I wish you didn’t have to go through that.” He says, rubbing your cheek. Leaning in to his touch, his breath tickles your lips, the close proximity unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

…However, the moment ended when you hear the murmuring of people approaching the area. You and Jiyan wrap up in the bathhouse, putting on your clothes and walking out, pinkies laced together.

Decorations slowly pop up in the area, banners and streamers being hung as vendors put up their stalls. You and Jiyan are the topic of hushed whispers and gossips as you strolled through the area. Though the festival starts tomorrow, a few vendors who managed to complete their stall began offering trinkets to you. Since you had no shell credits to your name, you manage to completely ignore most of them… Up until a certain stall.

“You there missy!” A woman would wave you over. She grins when you approach, pulling out a box. Flicking the lock open, she reveals an assortment of necklaces and collars. “That dress is real pretty on you… But you know what would make you prettier? Some jewelry, only for a few hundred shell credits.”

…You will admit, these necklaces are really pretty… But then again, you have no credits to you name. Still, it’d be nice to have one of these. As you’re about to decline the woman’s offer, you pause when you take note of a collar. The collar had a wavy pattern stylized in loopy shapes, with little beige rhinestones acting as sand at the bottom. The teal seashell hanging from the collar completes the look. The woman grins, taking the collar and placing it in your hands.

“Good eye, madame. This little beauty takes inspiration from the bay that surrounds us. Just for you, this collar is only worth two thousand shells!”

Two thousand shells… That’s still a lot. But as you were about to hand the collar back, Jiyan stops you by placing down a pouch of credits, pushing to towards the woman. She accepts it with glee while you stare up at Jiyan in shock. “Jiyan-”

“Don’t be so worried.” He smiles, taking the collar from you. “It really does suit you. Here…” He turns you around, eyes flicking towards your tacet mark. Carefully wrapping the band around your neck, his fingers graze over the mark, making you shiver. “How is it? Not too tight, I hope.”

“No, it’s perfect.” You smile, looking down at the shell collar. “Thank you, Jiyan… I’ll have to look for a matching shell.”

Again, you continue the routine of strolling through the settlement before retiring back to Jiyan’s tent. You’re back to wearing one of his shirts, and you sleep the night away...

Tomorrow, you’ll surely have the time of your life with the man who has been so nice to you. You’re sure of it!

When you wake up, a wave of mischief overtakes you, surged on by the excitement of the festival. Carefully climbing out of bed, you crawl over to where Jiyan is and hover over him with a smug smile. A dainty finger makes contact with his cheek. “Ji-yaaaan. Ji-yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan.” Poke poke poke- You pout, thinking your attempts of rousing him from slumber is a bust. Suddenly, you feel muscular arms wrap about your midsection and pull you down, tumbling until you end up pinned underneath your target.

“Getting rather antsy, aren’t we?”

“Good morning, Jiyan!” You chirp, smiling up at him. Jiyan’s gaze softens, before he gains mischievous glint in his eyes. You let out a squeal when Jiyan begins nibbling your cheeks, laughing uncontrollably as you feebly hit his shoulders. “Hahaha! Jiyan noooo! Stoooop! Hahahahaha!” This earns you a playful growl from the general, who starts prodding at your sides, sending you into a fit of giggles.

Jiyan eventually relents when you push him off, nibbling on his cheek as payback. The two of you get ready for the day, Jiyan preparing to leave in order to take care of some business. “I promise I’ll come back before the festival begins,” He says, adjusting your collar. Golden eyes paired with a small smile gives you reassurance of his oath. The general rubs your cheek before he sets off to secure the area. As you think about what to do for the rest of the day, you’re called outside by a familiar voice.

“Ah, Miss Dong Mei!” You greet, bowing slightly. “What do you need me for?”

“Well, since the festival starts later on, I figured I’d give you a whole makeover for when Jiyan comes back.” Dong Mei grins, taking your hand and leading you somewhere else. “It took us some time and we had to rush, but the girls and I got everything we need to turn you into the prettiest lady in Jinzhou.”

“But Miss Dong Mei-”

“No buts!”

So you’re dragged into a tent full of women whose smiles fill you with a sense of dread. However, you calm down when they gently preen and argue about what shade of eyeshadow is perfect for your skin. Eventually, Dong Mei proudly presents you in front of a mirror they borrowed for this occasion. The women pat themselves on the back as Dong Mei places the Pecok flower in your hair. Finally, you’re clothed in a short-sleeved dress that hugs your figure, accentuating your curves.

“What do you think?”

“Is this really what I look like? I look like a whole other person… Will Jiyan even recognize me?”

“Don’t be silly, of course he will. Oh! Here he comes.” Dong Mei saunters out the tent. Her conversation with the general is a bit muffled, your apprehension growing with each unintelligible syllable. It isn’t until Dong Mei calls for you did you snap out of your train of thought. With a small sigh, you shyly part the tent flaps, glancing at Jiyan’s reaction.

Pink dusts his cheeks, his eyes wide and twinkling with surprise, mouth parted open. Words seem non-existent as you timidly make your way in front of him, looking into his golden eyes. “Miss Dong Mei and the others gave me a makeover… Do you uhm… Like it?” It seemed like such a silly question to ask when Jiyan’s eyes scan your figure, and you take note that your legs seem to be exposed by the slit running up the side. Dong Mei elbows Jiyan, causing him to cough and straighten his posture.

“You look beautiful. Perfect for an outing at the festival.” He smiles, and you return the expression. Dong Mei giggles and waves you off as you link arms with Jiyan, walking towards the big event you’ve been waiting for.

At night, colorful streamers and lanterns decorate the starry sky as you and Jiyan strolled through area. Who would have thought you’d find such a wonderful friend when you ventured to the surface? Sure, you had an awkward start, but the elation you feel right now as you toss a lightweight ball into one of the bowls, earning you a pretty, albeit fake fish. Jiyan chuckles at you inspect the fish, turning it around in your hand. The stall owner generously gives you a bag to hold any trinkets you win, and you drag Jiyan to play more games.

Your bag of trinkets fills up, as does your joy. Currently, Jiyan had you sit down at a table while he went to get the two of you some food, leaving you to entertain yourself with the fake fish you earned earlier. It’s unlike any fish you’ve seen in the waters, but you wonder if such a creature could exist. The fake fish swims around in a tiny container, your eyes following its every moment.

“You seem occupied,” Jiyan says as he returns with a small carton box of fries, a few meat skewers, and two cups with pink liquid inside. “I didn’t know what flavor you liked, so I got us both strawberry. I hope you don’t mind.”

Shaking your head, you return the fake fish to your trinket bag as you indulge in the food. At some point, you take a fry and wave it in front of Jiyan’s face, clearly intending to feed him. Jiyan stares at you for a moment, before chuckling and biting the fry, giggles bubbling from your chest. Your eyes shine when you take a sip of the strawberry drink, making sure to savor every last drop.

“Whew… This festival is everything I thought it’d be.” You say, watching as lanterns float into the air. A sad smile graces your features as the water gently laps at your shoes. The two of you have decided to sit by the beach, where you could see the city of Jinzhou in the distance. Leaning into Jiyan’s shoulder, you look up at him. “Thank you for everything, Jiyan. I don’t think I would have had this much fun without you around.”

“...”

“...Jiyan? Are you okay?” The general had gradually stopped speaking over the course of your conversation, deep in thought. Just as you were about to poke his cheek, Jiyan gently grasps your hands as he looks deep into your eyes, his golden hues shining under the moonlight. “Jiyan?-”

Suddenly, Jiyan’s lips lock with yours, and you note the faint trace of strawberries staining his mouth. Jiyan leans in, one of his hands supporting your lower back as your hands fly up and grab onto his shoulders for extra support. You gasp when Jiyan pulls back, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. You gaze up at him with wide eyes and reddened cheeks, panting slightly as you processed just exactly what happened.

“Jiyan, wha-”

“I- Apologize for my rash actions… But I could not bare to keep it a secret for much longer…” He mutters. You could make out the faint blush in his cheeks as he holds your chin, giving your jaw light bunny kisses. “I cannot deny it anymore. I’ve fallen for you. You’re so sweet and genuine, I just couldn’t help these feelings sprouting inside me. So I have something to ask you.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Time slows. Jiyan waits for your reaction.

What he doesn’t expect is for you push him off and for your dress to burst into energy particles, watching as your figure dives into the water. Jiyan can only stand up, watching as your tail waves at him before disappearing into the waters below. As he stands there, his mind scrambling to take in the situation, he notices your collar washing up beside him. The lonely shell glints under the moon’s pitiful light as Jiyan picks up your bag of trinkets.

The following day, Jiyan calls out your name at the beach, hoping he could at least draw you out. Dong Mei and the other rangers took some time off to help him in his search despite his protests. Jiyan clutches the collar in his hand as he scans the waters for any sign of you. “General Jiyan, we haven’t found anything.” Dong Mei says. She’s never seen the general so distraught before. “Perhaps we should send someone to look for her?”

“No,” Jiyan vehemently shakes his head. “She’s… She would just get scared off again. Thank you for your assistance, but this is something I have to tackle on my own.”

Without further instructions, Dong Mei salutes Jiyan and leaves with her fellow rangers. Jiyan lets out a deep sigh, staring into the water with a grim expression, his lips tightening into an uncomfortable line. Where could you have gone, he wonders as the sand crunches underneath his boots. His mind replays the scene from last night, his chest tightening when he takes in your shocked expression. Everything about you suddenly clicked that night. Your lack of clothing, the scales on your legs, and the bullet scar on your shoulder…

Still, Jiyan doesn’t give up. Day after day, he walks alongside the beach, hoping to see the distinct color of your tail in the waters. His soldiers mention how he always seem to smell of salt, and he finds himself losing his appetite whenever seafood is mentioned. However, his search is rewarded when he spots you near the shore, sitting on the sand. You dive back into the water, but before you could retreat to the depths, you hear him call your name.

You’re nearing the shallows, eyeing the shadow. You know exactly who that is. But could you really face him after what you did? He must be very upset at you. It’s so easy to just swim back into the deep and return to your simple life under the water. You could return to normalcy.

…But could you really do that? After the time you’ve spent up on the surface, you craved more. You want to eat yummy food, visit Jinzhou city, see all the pretty flowers you couldn’t see underwater. Most of all…

…You wanted Jiyan.

You breach the surface, staring up at the man who helped you navigate the world. Before you could speak, Jiyan breaks into a sprint and lifts you from the water, spinning you around and holding you close. You could feel his chest heaving. “…I missed you.” He whispers. Your heart breaks when you catch sight of his tear filled gaze.

“Jiyan… I’m sorry. It was all so sudden, a-and I…” You sniffle, feeling your own eyes welling up in tears. You curl into Jiyan’s hold, Jiyan adjusting his grip to hold you in a bridal carry, pressing his forehead to yours as you begin to cry. “I didn’t want to make you sad. I’m not human at all. Y-You deserve someone who isn’t… This.” Your hands clumsily wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks. “You’re the g-general, while I’m just some nobody… You deserve someone better.”

“Shh shh shh… None of that. Love, I fell for you and you alone.” Jiyan murmurs, kissing your cheek. “I’m hurt that you ran away, but I understand why. You… You must have been terribly lonely all these years under the sea. It was my fault for scaring you off like that. I shouldn’t have dropped the news on you so abruptly. But I promise you this,” He plants light kiss to your lips as he closes his eyes. “I love you no matter what form you take. Whether you have legs or a fish tail, I’ll love you all the same. So please, don’t leave me so suddenly again.

“Oh Jiyan…!”

The waves crash against the rocks as you and Jiyan share a tender kiss, eyes closed as the water ripples around you. Opening your eyes, you shift into your human form as Jiyan smiles at you with blushing cheeks. The two of you make your way out of the water, and Jiyan cloaks you in order to preserve your dignity. Though if he was being honest with himself, it’s mostly because he wants nobody else to see your bare form.

If someone were to describe it, they’d say the trip back to the city of Jinzhou would be something out of a fairy tale, where you cuddled up to Jiyan as the truck makes it way back to civilization. Jiyan wastes no time bringing you back home, needy kisses on your neck and collar bones as you stumble through the front door. None of you realize just how starved the both of you were for attention before the cozy atmosphere of Jiyan’s home ignites that tiny spark.

After barely making it to the bedroom, Jiyan gently sets you down on the soft mattress of his bed, bashfully looking up at him through your lashes as he disrobes. Jiyan wastes no time kissing you again, tangling his tongue with yours and swallowing your moans, your legs feebly wrapping around his waist and pulling him close. Your soft curves contrast nicely with his muscular frame, the heated friction between your bodies making your head dizzy.

“Ah… Ji-Jiyan…” Whimpers fill the space as Jiyan nibbles at the flesh of your neck, biting and kissing such a sensitive place. Aiming to draw more sinful noises from you, Jiyan finally pays attention to your chest, pawing at one of them and gently kneading the flesh. The sensation was foreign to you, as you never paid much attention to that area before, but Jiyan’s mouth swallowing one of your buds was enough to get you moaning louder.

“Do you have any idea how much I wanted to do this?” Jiyan whispered, the pads of his thumbs drawing circles on nipples, teasing them until they hardened. You couldn’t reply, squealing when he suddenly tugs on your chest. “When you came to the bathhouse, I could barely control myself… You were so stunning,” He sucks on your nipple as you sob, your hands finding their way to his hair. “I wanted to devour you right then and there. But I couldn’t. Not with all those people around.”

Truly, you had no idea what you do to this man. You grip the sheets as you panted out, your chest littered with tiny bite marks and covered in saliva. Jiyan kisses your nipple one last time before settling between your legs. He was knelt on the floor of his bedroom as he parted your thighs, revealing your most intimate parts. You sit up, supported by your elbows as Jiyan licks at your inner thighs, shivering as his tongue makes contact with your skin.

“Mmmph!”

You throw your head back when he suddenly kisses the little pearl hiding in your folds, legs shaking as Jiyan licks up from your pussy to your clit. A yell escapes you when Jiyan’s mouth latches onto your clit, his groans sending sensual vibrations to your core, his fingers parting your folds to reveal your weeping cunt. This was a whole other range of emotions you never delved into before, but Jiyan is ready to take those first steps with you. Jiyan’s lips suckle on your clit with a vengeance as his fingers teased the entrance to your pussy, making you weep and cry out. “Jiyan! Oo-oooh- Hah! I-It feels… Good…!”

“Doesn’t it?” Jiyan asks, panting as his fingers tease your slit. “You’re being so good for me… Good girls deserve proper treatment.” You gasp when his middle finger slips in, Jiyan cursing when he feels your walls immediately tightening around his digit. His index finger has an even tougher time trying to join its twin as you babble about his treatment being too much. Your protests trail off when Jiyan finally manages to insert both of his fingers inside. Jiyan’s eyes widen when your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, your pussy gushing out a white liquid.

Heavens above, you came just from two of his fingers. Your walls pulsate around the intruding digits, either trying to pull them inside or push them out. Either way, you keen as Jiyan plunges his fingers all the way in, trying to loosen up the tension in your core. You feel like he’s thrown you into the deepest parts of the ocean, trying your best to swim against the currents of arousal trying to drown you. However, the loss of Jiyan’s touch when he pulls out his fingers makes you whine, sitting up again. Your face is all red and sweaty, drool running down your chin. “Why… Why did you…”

Jiyan says nothing, instead turning you on your stomach as he climbs back on the bed. You whimper, feeling his hands part the globes of your rear in order to reveal the mess you’ve made between your legs, arousal dripping onto the sheets below. Jiyan lets out a groan at the sight, feeling his erection twitch. “Brace yourself,” he kisses your shoulder and tacet mark as he lines the head of his rod towards your entrance, hissing when the tip kisses your messy hole. Your grip on the sheets tighten when the tip breaches the ring of muscle, soaked by your arousal. “C-Come on… Loosen up for me, love.” Jiyan whispers, one hand keeping your hip steady while the other rests on your hand. Attempting to comply with his request, you will yourself to relax, moaning as Jiyan inches inside.

With every agonizing second, you find yourself becoming increasingly breathless as Jiyan takes up more space. By the time he’s fully sheathed inside your warm, gummy walls, you’re eyes have rolled back into your skull as your tongue lolls out from your mouth. Jiyan pants, struggling so hard not to immediately thrust into your warmth. You’re oh so precious to him, he doesn’t want to break you during such an intimate milestone in your relationship. “Hey, angel… Are you still with me?” He gasps out, leaning down to press light kisses to your tacet mark.

Though you couldn’t respond verbally, you’re able to nod your head. Jiyan kisses your tacet mark again. “I’ll start moving now. Just tell me if it hurts, okay?” When you nod your head once more, Jiyan breathes in and begins moving his length in shallow thrusts, testing the waters of your endurance. He listens intently to your pants and moans, and is quick to learn just what gets you going. Slick dribbles from your cunt as you become more vocal, spurring him on to speed up. His hips slap against your ass while his cock drags against your walls, searching for the one spot that’ll make you see stars. He finds it when you suddenly jolt and push back against his thrusts, and Jiyan starts attacking that sensitive area. Each stroke of his cock stimulates your sensitive walls as he takes in the sound of your voice breaking, struggling to say his name.

Still connected, Jiyan takes one of your legs and settles it on his shoulder, making lay on your side. The position has him reaching deeper than before, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. “Ji-Jiyan! Ohhhh! Mmmph- Haaaah! Oh- S-Sensitive!- Mmmp!” You could barely speak, eyes hazy and struggling to keep open from the pleasure he’s dutifully giving to you. Meanwhile, Jiyan finds himself in the same situation, panting and groaning out your name while he furiously ruts into your warm cunt. The headboard bangs against the wall as he passionately thrusts into your pussy, his cock twitching against your poor walls.

“I’m gonna cum…” He pants, leaning down and resting his forehead on your chest. Such an intimate act is offset by the harsh slapping happening between your legs, your pussy gushing around his length as you feel a knot building inside your tummy. Your eager moans are swallowed up by Jiyan’s mouth as his thrusts become rough and sloppy, slamming into your weepy cunny and stirring up your insides. Your muffled sobs are silenced by Jiyan’s own groans as the knot snaps, legs trembling as Jiyan spears you deep, feeling a warm liquid coat your walls. Jiyan curses as he thrusts a few more time, shoving his cum further inside as your cunt swallows every last drop.

The two of you stay like that for what seems like an hour before Jiyan finally pulls out, watching as the mixture of your arousals leak from your cunt. You’re trembling after the whole ordeal, hips bucking up and causing more of his cum to leak outside. Jiyan lays down next to you and pulls you in, kissing you again.

A few weeks later, you’re recognized as an official citizen of Jinzhou, and you’ve moved in with Jiyan. Every once in a while, the two of you would return to where it all started, at a beach at Tiderise Cliff. Jiyan joins you in the water, holding you close as you embrace him underneath the surface. You breathe air into his lungs, temporarily giving him the ability to breathe underwater.

You’ll never be lonely ever again <3

#shroomie.fic #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x reader #jiyan x reader #wuthering waves smut #monster reader #mermaid reader #this was a LOT #afab reader #fem reader

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edgeray · 5 months ago

Note

hi, ray 💟

remember that siren!arle and pirate!reader idea? consider:

siren!arlecchino who preys on pirates lost at sea (not by coincidence, i fear). she doesn't enjoy them much, especially the men. then, she spots you. she's never seen such a pretty little pirate before! she must have you.

of course, she's fortunate enough that you're one of the ones who sits alone on the deck at night, foolishly stargazing while everyone else is tucked away in their beds.

she sings to you, calling you to her, trying to reel you in, only to find it isn't working. you seem to hear her, looking for the singer of the melody, but you're not quite entranced.

she keeps trying, only to eventually be spotted by you. she's... a little embarrassed, to say the least.

whatever else happens is up to you, or feel free to totally change the plot! ♡

The Sea's Calling

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Hi aris!!! Ty for the ask, and for being my first! <333 love you. I hope you like this one. Since it's my first ask, I'm a bit nervous. Is this semi-One Piece-inspired? Perchance. Wasn't sure if you wanted fem! or gn! reader, but considering your writing I chose fem! reader, though I tried to not reference reader as female as much as possible. I kind of didn't know what to do after they met, so I threw in some not so good dialogue :(. It is also 02:00 as I am writing this, and I'm supposed to wake up at 06:00. Quality dropped at the end because I am tired. This was not a good idea doing this tonight but whatever. Content warnings / info - implied fem! reader, monster x human, arle is ooc because she's a siren, 1.7k words

You had always thought that the sea was calling out for you; it's been your dream since you were young–to explore the vast ocean that this world had to offer, to be surrounded by nothing but the comforting waves, to be free. Being a pirate allowed you to fulfill your dreams. You went on all the adventures you wanted, stole whatever the hell you wanted, and all while doing that with your crew, who cherished each other, you included, like no other. Yes, you've longed for the ocean, and you'd like to think that the ocean was always trying to draw you in.

Still, when you meant that the sea was calling out for you, you meant in a figurative sense. Not in a literal sense. Though if this was the kind of sign the ocean was giving you, you might as well jump the ship.

—

Pretty gems came far and few in Arlecchino's eyes. Humans, lost at sea and lured in by her voice, were easy meals. She was rarely picky with her meals, sustenance was sustenance, she supposes, but still she finds it disappointing the lack of humans that were easy on her eyes. The seas were infested with brutish and crude-looking humans, particularly among the males. It is a shame that it's been a good while since she's seen a human female, with their fair bodies and their soft features– a suitable mate for her.

She wanders the sea again, not especially hungry, but if she finds a meal or two, she wouldn't have to find another for a few more days. Traveling through the waters, sniffing for the faint and familiar scent of human musk, she finds a ship soon, to her mild delight. She approaches the ship, it being smaller than most ships that wander this part of the ocean, but no matter. She is sure that she'd be able to snag at least one human tonight–there is bound to be one that is awake?

Peeking her head above the water, she observes the deck of the ship for any humans yet to have slumbered. Humans in slumber were always hard to lure in, but possible. Her eyes gleam when she spots a lone figure on the surface of the deck. It seems like tonight's hunt would prove to be easy. Nearing closer, however, the smell that comes from this figure is distinct to the usual humans she encounters. Though still reeking of the musk that all humans contain, the human contains a refreshing fauna smell and lacks the liquor aroma that most males contain. Curious, she nears the ship more until she can observe the distinct features of the human that sits so carelessly on the edge of their ship.

Her cold heart thumps like never before when she finally spots you, and oh, how she pauses in utter awe. A human whose beauty far surpasses that of any ivory pearl or glittering gold. Has there ever been a human more majestic than you? She would dismiss any notion of a human achieving flawlessness, but yet here you are, shredding her previous foolish thoughts. How do you attain such, so effortlessly? Oh, how fortunate for her to have decided to roam the sea tonight, for the ocean to have given her the most perfect mate in waiting. She must have you, no human male could ever treasure you like she can. She would give you the sea, if it made you hers.

And so she sings, her sweet song carrying into your ears like a gracious invite. She hopes for you to accept.

—

The stars are beautiful, you often think to yourself. It is another reason why you love being out in the sea. Directly underneath the stars, sometimes you feel that you're close enough to reach out and touch them. Little dancing specks of lights were all they were to you, and yet you were entranced each time. The stars and constellations have become one of your closest companions, always twinkling down on you regardless if you were facing soothing waves or warring riptides. Like so many nights before, you find yourself perched on one of the railings of the ship, simply gazing up, observing the midnight canvas that spans above you.

Is there something more beautiful than stars?

You find your answer that night when you hear a voice, melodic and sweet sounding, sugarier than any honey-coated treat. It piques you, as you know from the sound's direction it does not come from inside your ship, but beyond–somewhere in the waters. You'd imagine it's what people would describe as a voice from the heavens, because a light song fills the air, nearly entrancing you, however you're too busy searching the source of the sound for the intended effect to be inflicted on you. Instead of impelling your body to go overboard, you whip your head around, still seeking for the singer.

You've heard of instances like these. You've heard of the warnings: if you hear a beautiful song coming from the waters, you cover your ears and ignore it as much as possible. Though, many say that once you hear them, it is much too late for you. The fates of those who had fell for those voices, you know of them too well, and you intend not to share the same fate. You've heard that among those that were able to escape a siren's call, they're easily dissuaded after one song. All you had to do was to ignore the voice until the song's end.

The song ends soon after. You pay no mind as silence fills the void, just the sound of waves and the whistles of the wind as your company. But then, another song, the same one. After the second repeat, it starts again, and after that, another.

Were sirens this persistent? You've never heard of one this stubborn. But it is thanks to these songs that you're finally able to pinpoint the origins, and your eyes catch the slight glint of scales in the moonlight, and then the head of ivory hair. A pale face peaks from the water's currents, along with the tip of something–a tail, you discern. You gasp slightly once crimson-pupils land on yours, but then the head sinks down, like a shy animal having been caught.

Adorable. Was this an unfitting description of what was most likely a siren? You disregarded that very thought, instead, opting to wondering why this siren wanted your attention so much. After all, you should give her the respect of your acknowledgement of her existence after four songs.

Perhaps you were an idiot. Perhaps you were just heading straight to a gruesome death. But had those things stopped you previously, you would have never been out here, never would have been a pirate. Foolish curiosity may be the death of you, but not tonight. And so, like a pirate in search of their treasure, you take to the seas; in this case, literally into the sea. You let yourself lean backwards on the railing, arms outstretched by your side as you freefall into the sea.

Surely, if the siren wanted you so badly, then she would save you, wouldn't she?

The icy waters greet your form, and you shiver. Your breath is stolen away, and it is only you start sinking that you start to question your choice. You stare up, with only the moonlight reflecting off the water, your source of life and you instinctively reach out towards it. Your eyes burn from the brine, so you close your eyes, trying to combat the swallowing waves as you futilely flail your arms.

Something moves in the water, and before you know it, a weight presses against your chest, something distinctly cold and what you imagine scales to feel like, and something else slides underneath your arms, the texture much like human skin. You feel your body begin to rise, until the sudden rush of oxygen barrages at you, and you greedily inhale the air with heaving breaths, while coughing out the sea water from your throat. Once you're done hacking up your lungs, you crack open an eye, greeted with the same gorgeous face you saw earlier.

“You're beautiful…” The both of you say at the same time, and you feel your ears burn from the compliment. Her voice, deep and resounding, rings through your ears. Meanwhile, her expression visibly brightens, akin to the stars you adore so much.

“Y-you won't eat me, right?” You ask hesitantly, and to your relief, she shakes her head no. She pulls you closer, before nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck. The arms wrapped around your figure tightens, and so does the tail around your legs.

“No. Want to be my mate.” She says bluntly, and you feel sharp fangs prick your skin. You gasp, and she pulls her mouth away, deciding to lick your neck as a quick apology.

“Why me?”

“Pretty human. But stupid.”

“Hey!” You exclaim out of feigned annoyance, but then she purrs into your neck, the noise vibrating through your body. Sirens purr? That is adorable. “What does being a mate mean?”

“You are with me, forever. I feed you, protect you, love you, always. Mine, forever.”

A tempting offer, truly, especially with the way her clawed hands grip your sides so tenderly and the way she looks at you like you are her sun.

“But what about my companions?”

“You do not need them.”

“I do,” you assert, and her face falls. It's like being stabbed in the heart, seeing her expression like that. You raise both of your hands and cup her face.

“I want you,” she says, with as much of a whine as a siren can possibly make. It is cute, a mix between a cry and a groan.

“I need them too.”

“I am not enough?”

“I want to be free. I don't want to stay in one place.”

“Then I will follow,” the siren asserts, her red pupils ablaze with determination. It is as simple as that, apparently. “Can I?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you affirm with a nod. “Don't eat them either. Then I'll be yours.”

The siren nods, purring again. “My pretty human. Mine?”

You smile. “Yours.”

Salty lips are brought against yours and you've never been more elated–here is the freest you've ever felt.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fic #genshin x reader #genshin x you #edgeray.writes #edgeray.requests #edgeray.answers

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guilty-ff · 3 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐏𝐭.2

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Previously: After overhearing Wade and Weasel discuss his unresolved feelings for Vanessa, Y/n panicked and fled the bar. Realizing how much his words had hurt her, Wade chased after her. Tragically, just as he was about to reach her, Y/n was struck by a truck, leaving Wade devastated as he watched her die.

This story takes place between the second and third movies (warning: not 100% movie/comic accurate)

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x (fem!)Reader

Genre: Angst, revenge, Fanfiction, Marvel

Warnings: Movie Spoilers! Explicit content, swearing, torture, mental health, weapons, characters death

Word count: 4168

Wade's entire world had shattered in an instant. He was kneeling on the cold, unforgiving pavement, cradling Y/n's lifeless body in his arms, as if he could will her back to life with sheer desperation alone.

The chaos of the world around him: the blaring sirens, the flashing red and blue lights, the distant murmur of concerned voices- was nothing but a blur. All that mattered was the lifeless weight in his arms, the chill that had already settled into her skin, and the way her once bright eyes were now dull and vacant.

"Please... please, don't do this to me," Wade whispered, his voice breaking as he rocked back and forth, clutching her to his chest. His breath hitched, tears blurring his vision as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the faint scent of her shampoo, clinging to the last remnants of her presence. "I'm sorry... I'm so fucking sorry...".

But his words were met with only silence. Her chest did not rise or fall. There was no reassuring heartbeat, no sign of the warmth that had once filled her eyes with life and laughter. Wade's hands trembled as he smoothed her hair back, trying to memorize every detail of her face, knowing deep down that this was the last time he would ever see her like this.

The blood that stained the street was still warm, mixed with the tears that dripped from his chin. It clung to his hands, a harsh reminder of his failure. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, each one more painful than the last as he choked on the guilt that consumed him.

"It's my fault," he whispered to her, his voice trembling with the weight of his own self-hatred. "I should have been honest with you... I could have stopped you... Why couldn't I even open my fucking mouth like I always do?".

But there was no answer, only the cold, indifferent night stretching out before him.

He barely registered the approaching footsteps, the shadowed figures of the paramedics moving closer, their expressions grave as they realized there was nothing they could do. They exchanged worried glances, whispering among themselves as they tried to figure out how to handle the situation.

One of them, a woman with a kind face, knelt down beside Wade, her voice soft, careful. "Sir... I'm so sorry, but we need to—"

"Don't fucking touch her!" Wade's voice was a raw snarl as he recoiled from her, his arms tightening around Y/n as if he could somehow shield her from the reality of what had happened.

He looked up at the paramedic, his eyes wild with a mix of grief and rage, daring her to come closer. "She's not gone. She's not gone!"

The woman hesitated, her hand hovering just above his shoulder, unsure whether to comfort him or back away. She could see the pain engrave into every line of his face, the desperation in his voice that tore at her heartstrings. But she knew that they couldn't leave the scene like this. They needed to take Y/b's body, to give her some semblance of peace, even if Wade was not ready to accept it.

"Wade... Man..." A familiar voice cut through the haze of grief, and Wade turned his head to see Weasel standing a few feet away, his face pale and stricken with horror. He looked like he didn't know what to say, his usual sarcasm and wit buried under the crushing weight of the moment. "You've got to let them... Let them take her. You can't... She's gone, Wade. She's really gone."

Wade shook his head violently, the words not even registering as he tightened his grip on Y/n's body, as if the utter force of his denial could somehow change the reality of the situation. "No, she's not. She's just hurt... She's going to wake up... She has to wake up."

Weasel's heart broke at the sight of his friend, the man who had always seemed invincible, reduced to this: a broken, shattered mess of grief and guilt.

He took a tentative step closer, his voice trembling with emotion as he tried to reach Wade. "Wade... please, man... this isn't your fault. You've got to let go... you've got to let her go."

But Wade was not listening. He could not hear anything over the overwhelming guilt that consumed him like a fire. This was his fault. If he had been there, if he had been faster, if he had just done something differently, she wouldn't be lying here, lifeless in his arms.

He barely noticed when Dopinder arrived, the taxi driver's normally cheerful manner completely shattered by the sight before him. He stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock as he took in the scene—the blood, the crumpled form of Y/n, and Wade's unhinged state.

"Weasel... I'm done cleaning the toilets-" Dopinder's voice was a broken attempt at normalcy, his mind clearly struggling to process what he was seeing. But as soon as he fully registered the scene before him, his stomach twisted violently, and he turned away, vomiting uncontrollably onto Weasle's Hawaii shirt. The acidic smell of bile mixed with the metallic tang of blood in the air, creating a nauseating cocktail that clung to the back of everyone's throats.

Weasel barely reacted to the vomit now dripping down his shirt, his focus entirely on Wade. "Damn it, Dopinder," he muttered under his breath, though there was no real anger in his voice- just a deep, extremely tired sadness. He shot Dopinder a look that said it all: *Stay back. Let me handle this.*

The paramedics tried to move closer again, but Wade's grip on Y/n only tightened, his entire body trembling with the effort to hold on. "Get away!" he screamed, his voice breaking, raw with the agony that tore through him.

He reached out blindly, grabbing a jagged piece of metal that had broken off from the truck during the accident. He swung it at the paramedics, his eyes wild, daring them to come any closer. "You're not taking her from me! You hear me?! She's not fucking gone!"

Weasel's heart ached as he watched his friend unravel, knowing that there was nothing he could say or do to pull Wade out of the mess that was consuming him. But he could not let this continue. He could not let Wade destroy himself any further. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, trying to keep his voice steady, even as his own grief threatened to spill over.

"Wade, listen to me," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You need to let them help. Y/n... she's not in pain anymore. She's... she's at peace. But you... you've got to let them do their job, man. You've got to let her go."

But Wade was not hearing any of it. He was lost in his own mind, the words barely registering as his vision began to blur, the edges of the world around him starting to go dark. His grip on the metal weakened, his hands shaking uncontrollably as his body finally began to give out under the overwhelming weight of his grief.

"I'm sorry... I'm so fucking sorry..." Wade's voice was barely more than a whisper as he slumped forward, the piece of metal slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground. His vision darkened completely, and the last thing he heard before everything went black was the sound of his own heart shattering into a million pieces.

Wade woke up gasping for air as if he had just surfaced from drowning. His head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, and his entire body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. Blinking against the harsh light filtering through the curtains, his heart pounding in his chest as the memories of what had happened crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Y/n. The accident. Her lifeless body in his arms.

The pain hit him like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of him as he struggled to sit up, only to find himself sinking back into the cushions of the couch. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cocaine clung to the air, and it didn't take him long to realize where he was.

Althea's apartment. Of course. The last refuge of the damned.

He groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead as he tried to make sense of it all. How had he ended up here? What had happened after he had blacked out?

Before he could piece it all together, Althea emerged from the shadows, a cigarette hanging from her lips, her expression as unreadable as ever. She looked at him with a mixture of pity and despair, as if she had seen this exact scenario play out a hundred times before.

"You're awake," she said, her voice flat, detached, as she took a long drag from her cigarette. She exhaled the smoke in a slow, steady stream, watching him through her sunglasses that seemed to see right through him. "About fucking time."

Wade tried to sit up again, his muscles protesting with every movement, but he forced himself to push through the pain. "What the hell happened?" he croaked, his voice rough and rough from disuse. "How did I... how did I get here?"

Althea sighed, rolling her eyes as she stubbed out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray beside her. "You passed out, Wade," she said, her voice devoid of any real sympathy. "Weasel and Dopinder brought you here. They were in a panic, going on about some accident... and, well, it wasn't hard to put the pieces together."

Wade's stomach churned as the memory of the night came rushing back, hitting him like a punch to the gut. Y/n's lifeless body, the blood, the overwhelming sense of helplessness...

He could feel the bile rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, his hands balling into fists as he tried to keep himself grounded in the present.

"Where is she?" His voice came out as a strained whisper, almost as if he was afraid of the answer. "Y/n... where did they take her?"

Althea hesitated, her usual stoic behaviour cracking just enough for Wade to see the unease flickering behind her eyes. She looked away, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her jacket as if the act could somehow delay her answer.

"They took her to the morgue, Wade," she finally said, her tone softening, almost as if she was trying to ease him into the truth. "She... she was officially declared dead at the scene."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and for a moment, Wade felt like the ground had opened up beneath him, threatening to swallow him whole. He couldn't breathe, could not think- his mind was a carousel of images, memories of Y/n flashing before his eyes, all of them met with the sickening realization that she was gone. She was really gone.

"No..." Wade whispered, his voice breaking as the reality of it all came crashing down. "No, this can't be happening. This can't be fucking happening."

Althea did not say anything. There was nothing she could say. She knew better than to offer empty lies, to pretend like there was anything that could make this better. Instead, she just watched as Wade's world crumbled around him, the pain radiating off him in waves so intense it was almost touchable.

Wade's breath came in short, ragged gasps, his chest tightening as a sense of overwhelming panic began to set in. Memories of Y/n flooded his mind: her laugh, the way she used to look at him with that mixture of love and exasperation, the way she made him feel like he was worth something, like he was more than just the sum of his scars and mistakes.

He felt like he was drowning, the air sucked out of his lungs as the world around him started to spin. His vision blurred, the edges of the room closing in as he clutched at his chest, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might explode.

"Wade," Althea said sharply, her voice cutting through the fog of his panic. "Breathe. You need to fucking breathe."

But Wade could not. The memories were too much, the pain too overwhelming. He doubled over, clutching at his head as if he could somehow stop the many images that were tearing him apart from the inside out.

"I can't... I can't do this," Wade gasped, his voice trembling as he fought to hold himself together. "I can't... I can't live without her."

Althea's expression softened, a flicker of something almost resembling compassion crossing her features. She moved closer, reaching out a hand to steady him, but Wade flinched away, his mind too consumed by his own torment to accept any form of comfort.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the ragged rhythm of Wade's breathing as he fought to keep himself from going insane any further. But then, cutting through the stillness like a knife, a sound broke through the chaos- a shrill, insistent ringing that filled the room, that had surrounded them.

Wade's head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat as he registered the sound. It was a phone, the shrilling ringtone of the Star Wars OST echoing through the small apartment, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts and forcing him back into the present. He fumbled for the device, his hands still shaking as he pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

The number was unfamiliar, but there was something about the timing, the wrongness of it all, that made his blood run cold. His instincts were screaming at him, telling him that whatever this call was, it was not going to bring good news.

He hesitated for a split second, his thumb hovering over the answer button, but then he forced himself to press it, bringing the phone to his ear. "Hello?" His voice was strained, barely more than a rasp as he forced the word out.

There was a pause on the other end, a crackling that made his heart pound even harder. And then, a voice- a voice that was clipped, professional, but with an edge of something that Wade could not quite place. "Mr. Wilson? This is Officer McCready from the city morgue."

Wade's blood ran cold, his heart dropping into his stomach as he heard the words. The morgue.

Y/n.

The sickening realization of what this call was about hit him like a freight train, but he forced himself to stay on the line, to hear what the officer had to say.

"There's... been an incident," the officer continued, his tone growing more uncertain as if he was not sure how to proceed. "Y/n... her body... it's missing."

Wade's mind went blank, the words not registering at first, as if they were too surreal, too impossible to comprehend. "What... what the fuck are you talking about?" he finally managed to choke out, his voice barely more than a whisper as the world tilted on its axis.

"We... we don't know how it happened," the officer stammered, clearly just as unsettled by the situation as Wade was. "The security footage... it's missing, and there were no signs of a break-in, but... her body's gone. It's not here. We've searched everywhere, but... it's just gone."

Wade's heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the information. Gone? How could she be gone? He had seen her- he had held her cold, lifeless body in his arms. She was dead. He had seen the blood, felt the absence of her heartbeat.

And yet...

A little of hope, irrational and impossible, started to take root in his mind, fighting against the overwhelming grief that had consumed him. What if she wasn't really gone? What if... what if this was all some mistake? What if...?

But the logical part of his brain, the part that had been forged in pain and loss, pushed back against the hope, crushing it before it could take hold. No. This was not a miracle. This was something else, something dark, twisted.

Someone had taken her. Someone had stolen her body, desecrating the last remnant of her existence. The thought made his stomach turn, his hands clenching into fists as a surge of anger and despair crashed over him.

"What do you mean, she's gone?" Wade growled into the phone, his voice low and dangerous, barely restrained. "How the hell does a body just go missing? What kind of sick joke is this?"

The officer's voice wavered, clearly unnerved by Wade's barely contained fury. "I-I don't know, Mr. Wilson," he stammered. "We're investigating, but... we thought you should know. We're doing everything we can to find her..."

But Wade was not listening anymore. He dropped the phone, his mind reeling as the officer's words echoed in his head. Gone. Her body was gone.

The room started to spin, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as the walls seemed to close in around him. This was not happening. This could not be happening. Not again. Not to her. He felt like he was on the edge of some abyss, holding on a branch that could snap any moment.

Althea watched him, her expression unreadable, but her eyes were dark with something that looked almost like pity. She had seen this kind of grief before, had witnessed the way it could tear a person apart from the inside out.

"Wade," she said softly, almost cautiously, as if she were approaching a wild animal. "You need to calm down. We'll figure this out. There's got to be an explanation."

But Wade wasn't hearing her. He was already on his feet, his movements uncoordinated as he stumbled toward the door. He had to find her. He had to figure out what the hell was going on. He could not lose her, not like this. Not when he had already failed her once.

"I have to go," Wade muttered, more to himself than to Althea, his voice hollow as he fumbled with the doorknob.

"I have to... I have to find her..."

But as he reached for the door, the weight of everything crashed down on him all at once, and his knees buckled beneath him. He crumpled to the floor, his hands shaking uncontrollably as the panic attack he had been holding in finally overtook him.

Althea was at his side in an instant, her hands hovering uncertainly above him, unsure whether to comfort or restrain. Wade's breath came in short, shallow gasps, his chest heaving as the panic attack consumed him, pulling him under like a riptide.

His vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges as the room spun around him. He clutched at the floor, his fingers scraping against the worn carpet as if trying to ground himself, but it was no use. The memories, the guilt, the overwhelming sense of loss, it all crashed over him, threatening to drown him.

"Wade, listen to me," Althea said firmly, her voice cutting through his panic. She grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her, to focus on something other than the whirlwind in his mind. "You need to breathe, okay? In and out, slowly. Come on, you've done this before with gun smoke. You can do it again, just not with that type of smoke- Whatever, you know what I mean."

But Wade was barely hearing her. His thoughts were a chaotic mess, spiraling out of control as the reality of what had happened- what was still happening, tore at him from the inside out. Y/n was gone, her body stolen, desecrated, and he had not been able to protect her. He had failed her, just like he had failed everyone he would ever cared about.

Althea shook him, hard, snapping him out of the worst of the spiral. "Wade, snap out of it!" she snapped, her voice sharp and commanding, pulling him back to the present, if only for a moment. "You're no good to anyone like this. You need to pull yourself together."

Wade's breath hitched, and he forced himself to focus on her voice, clinging to it like a lifeline. He sucked in a ragged breath, then another, trying to steady the wild beating of his heart. The room slowly came back into focus, the edges of his vision clearing as the worst of the panic began to go away.

"That's it," Althea murmured, her tone softening as she saw him begin to calm down. "Just breathe. You're okay. You're going to be okay."

How could he be okay when the person who had meant everything to him was gone? How could he ever be okay again?

He let out a shaky breath, his hands still trembling as he slumped back against the wall, his strength completely drained.

"Why?" Wade's voice was a broken whisper, the question hanging in the air between them. He did not know if he was asking her, the universe, or himself. "Why did this happen? Why didn't I say something in the bar?"

Althea did not have an answer. She knew better than to offer false comfort or empty words. Instead, she sat down beside him, her presence a silent reminder that he was not alone, even if it felt like he was.

For a long moment, they just sat there, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside, the world continuing on as if nothing had changed, as if Wade's entire world had not just been ripped apart.

Althea nodded, her expression unreadable as she studied him. "I know," she said quietly, her tone carrying a weight of understanding. "But you can't do this alone. You're not in any shape to be running off half-cocked, looking for answers. You need help."

Wade wanted to argue, wanted to tell her that he didn't need anyone, that he could do this on his own. But the truth was, he was barely holding it together. He was a mess, his mind a mixed tangle of grief, guilt, and anger, and he knew that if he tried to do this alone, it would destroy him.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. It felt like defeat, like admitting weakness, but he was too exhausted, too broken to care. "I don't even know where to start."

Althea considered him for a moment, then reached for her phone, flipping through her contacts. "We'll figure it out," she said firmly, her tone allowing no argument. "I'll make some calls. We'll get Weasel and Dopinder back here. They'll help. We'll all figure this out together."

Wade closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him. It was not much, but it was something, a little of hope, a thread holding him together. He nodded slowly, too tired to protest, too worn down by grief and guilt to argue.

As Althea made her calls, Wade leaned his head back against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. The pain was still there, a deep, ache in his chest that refused to let go.

He was going to find her. He was going to get her back, no matter what it took. And whoever was responsible for this, whoever had taken her from him- they were going to pay.

Wade did not know how he was going to do it, or what he would find when he did. But he knew one thing for certain: this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

The phone in Althea's hand buzzed again, another call coming through, and she glanced at the screen before holding it out to Wade. "It's Weasel," she said, her voice steady. "He's on his way."

Wade took the phone, his grip tightening as he steeled himself for what was to come. "We're going to find her," he said, more to himself than to Althea. "We're going to find her, and we're going to make this right."

Althea did not respond, but the look in her eyes said enough. She believed him, or at least she was willing to help him see this through, no matter how dark the road ahead might be.

As the minutes ticked by, Wade let the resolve settle into his bones, his mind slowly beginning to clear as he prepared himself for what was to come. He did not know where this path would lead, or if he would ever truly find peace. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

He was not going to stop until he had answers. Until he had her back.

And if he had to tear the world apart to do it, so be it.

#self written #deadpool x reader #deadpool 3 #deadpool 2 #deadpool #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson #writing #marvel angst #marvel fanfiction #marvel #x men #fanfic #fiction #fypシ #fypシ゚viral #fyppage #angst #x reader

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