#Anthony: you convince them then

[only-one-brain-cell]

I love that Violet and Lady Danbury are chaperoning Anthony and Edwia but no one didn’t say anything when Anthony and Kate walked into the woods by themselves. IMAGINE THE SCANDAL ALONE???? IN A SECLUDED AREA???? LADY WHISLEDOWN WOULD HAVE A FIELD DAY.

[amphibianaday]

day 1421

[rantsramblesandrandomthougts]

Hey does anyone else think Lockwood and Lucy were meant to parallel Orpheus and Eurydice? Or am I just going a little crazy?

[sunshinelivesforever]

Okay, Kaz Brekker, Anthony Lockwood and Cardan Greenbriar are all the same person in different fonts. Boys who have black hair, who have tragic childhood stories, are constantly in danger and are hopelessly in love with badass women but refuse to acknowledge it? Yep, that's them.

[everythingsallticketyboo]

Aziraphale: We call that a traumatic experience.  Aziraphale, turning to Pepper: Not a "bruh moment".  Aziraphale, turning to Crowley: Not "sadge".  Aziraphale, turning to Adam: And DEFINITELY not an "oof LMAO".

[ashottoremember]

parallels

[voxslays]

HAZBIN MEN AS DADS

Featuring >>> Adam, Alastor, Angel Dust (Anthony), Lucifer, Husk, Vox, & Valentino x Reader (Separately) as fathers.

(not proofread if that wasn’t obvious lol)

Adam:

Total boy dad. I can see him with a little girl, (let’s be honest, his daughter would 100% become an exorcist and take over after he retires as commander (if he ever retires lol)), but he would turn his son into the the next exorcist commander.

Adam is definitely a bit misogynistic…and no matter what you do, atleast a little bit of that would be passed down to your child. If Adam had a son (not him already having two other sons…), he would start training him at a very young age. (Kinda like the career tributes from the hunger games if yk what I mean. (Oh, you don’t? I don’t blame you lol. Idk what I even meant by this tbh. Don’t worry about it-))

With a girl, I can 100% see him being overly protective TO THE EXTREME. He’s the type to scare off teenage boys lol.

Alastor:

Is probably the best dad on this list (except for Luci ofc.) Is super protective of his family. Would not let your baby out of his sight for the first few weeks. Would offer to help you with the baby when it wakes up crying late at night.

Is totally a girl dad. He would willingly play dress up and have tea parties with her in her room…but it will not be mentioned outside of there. When going out for an outing, he would dress her up to match his colors—red & black—and give you a few extra minutes to get ready.

The two of you want some alone time? He’ll ask Rosie. If she’s busy he is forcing either Husk or Niffty to watch the child. Alastor also most definitely keeps your young, innocent child away from Angel Dust for ‘reasons’ he doesn’t want to elaborate on. Your child will inherit his powers and will be almost as strong as him one day!

Husk:

Okay…so first of all, the elephant in the room. His alcoholism. I don’t think Husk would completely stop drinking, but would tone it down for the sake of you and your child. When he’s drinking/drunk, he would make sure he wasn’t around your child, not wanting that kid to see the ‘real’ him.

He would totally be a girl dad. He would completely deny it but we all know it’s true. Like Alastor, if your daughter wanted him to dress up, have a tea party with him, etc. I think it would take a little more convincing than Alastor but in the end he would do it.

Would be overly protective. ESPECIALLY AROUND ALASTOR. Husk would make sure that your child was atleast six feet away from the deer demon at all times. Husk obviously has lots of experience with Alastor as a person, so he of all people knows that Alastor could (and maybe would???) manipulate his spawn into a deal.

Angel Dust:

Angel is extremely excited…but…He is nervous. VERY anxious.

Angel would be a good dad, but he is worried about his deal with Val. Who knows what Val would do if he found out he was in another relationship…let alone with a child! When the child in question is born, he does everything in his power to hide them from Val.

If Val found out, he would be pissed. After calming down (barely), he would try to get your child under contract to punish Angel. Therefore, Angel is obviously very protective. Angel would teach your child how to be street-smart and survive on the streets of hell. Your child would learn from Angel’s mistakes.

Lucifer:

WHAT? HES GONNA BE A DAD (again)!? He is so stoked. Before the baby is even born they have everything they could ever want. Anything for his little duckling.

Your child would be homeschooled, but not by you. By the most well-known and well-educated members of Hell’s society. Your child is truly getting a million dollar education. Oh! And if your child decides to get a higher education after high school? It’s already taken care of. Lucifer makes sure that there are schools ready to take your child to college before your baby even turns two!

For some characters, I feel like they would either be girl dads or boy dads, but Lucifer could truly be either. With a little girl, I could totally see him playing dress up or Barbies with her, no problem! With a boy, same thing.

Vox:

Your child hit the jackpot. I mean…who wouldn’t want the richest overlord in all of pride to be their father? I just pray the kid doesn’t come out looking like a leapfrog or iPad…

Your child would be an iPad kid (vPad?) They would have all the newest technology and toys, they wouldn’t even know what to do with it all! Seriously though, this kid 100% has a playroom just filled with all the toys Vox either made or bought for them. He definitely spoils them (and you).

Your kid is a nepo baby. As they get into their teenage years, Vox would make sure they started to gain fame. Whether it’s by singing or acting (or both), or becoming a powerful overlord like himself, Vox would help them reach that.

Both you and Vox would make sure that your baby is supervised around Val and Velvette, if Vox even lets the kid around Valentino. He does NOT want Valentino trying to swindle them into a deal.

Valentino:

Bestie...What were you thinking? Let’s be honest. Valentino would not be the greatest dad. Definitely not the worst, but not great.

He would 100% leave your kid unsupervised. You’d better always be watching because he definitely isn’t. Speaking of supervision, Val would just randomly bring your child into his studio…When the two of you are spending ‘time’ together, he would either get Vel or Vox to watch the baby, or one of the souls he has under contract. Is surprisingly overprotective.

Val would teach make sure your child knows Spanish, threatening to ‘disown the brat’ if they refused. Luckily, you are there to stop Valentino from going off on your baby. Your child definitely learns a few Spanish swears from him.

TYSM FOR 1K NOTES GUYS! I really appreciate the support. As of now, this is my most liked post ever. I’m glad you guys enjoyed it so much! Thank you! <3

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle from Hell (1)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Nancy is with Jonathan; Steve is still in love with Nancy; You're in love with Steve; Eddie's in love with you; Robin just wanted to have a movie night but everyone is making it weird.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; drinking; Robin literally just trying to live her life but her friends are all idiots

A/N: I'm going to let y'all decide who our reader ends up with for this one- please let me know who you think our reader should pick! I think this will be another 5 part series. Please let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs and hitting up my asks are always so so so appreciated.

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

It was always Nancy. No matter what it always came back to Nancy. It happened over and over and over like a broken record. Like a glutton for punishment, you always went back for more thinking to yourself this time it’s going to be different. Squished on the lumpy loveseat with Robin, you watch Steve as he watches Nancy. You were pathetic and you knew it. Hopelessly in love with someone who’d never in a million years look at you the way he’s looking at her.

Eddie sits on the floor between your legs with his back rested against the front of the couch as you aimlessly braid his hair. You run your fingers through his hair, carefully navigating through the tangles. You pull strains and weave them together without needing to think about it- you’ve done it a million times before. Eddie would let you do whatever you wanted, he loved the feeling of your hands in his hair. He’d lean his head back as far as he could manage, and shoot you an upside down smile. It always made you giggle before you would use your palm to gently put his head back into place. 

It was quite a sight for Robin, like the most fucked daytime drama never written, if she knew how to read the room and pick up on the very obvious clues before her. Steve, her platonic soulmate and best friend, pining over his ex-girlfriend while you, her other best friend, pine over Steve and all the while Eddie, Steve’s roommate and your other best friend, pines over you. It was enough to make her sick. All the while, Nancy is completely oblivious as she checks her watch, waiting expectantly for Jonathan- her actual boyfriend- to arrive. Despite the mess before her, Robin was none the wiser. 

She knew Steve was still hung up on Nancy, because he never shut up about her during their shifts. However, you felt you kept your lovesick crush on Steve under pretty good wraps. Unfortunately, Eddie was so preoccupied with you that he felt it every time your eyes were on Steve or he’d witnessed all the small things you’d do that convinced him you actually liked Steve. 

He’d watch as you couldn’t make eye contact with Steve, looking everywhere but him when he spoke. He’d watch the way you’d steal glances at him when you thought no one else was looking. He’d see the way you’d take a deep breath to compose yourself when you’d see Steve looking at Nancy. The same way you’d break your own heart looking around for Steve, he’d be doing the same looking at you watching him. 

You’d watched one too many movies where the guy realizes the right girl all along was his best friend. You thought if you were patient, Steve would realize he’d been in love with you the whole time and he never realized it. If you’re there for him in his times of heartbreak, he’d see that you’re so much better for him than anyone else. He’d see you, really see you, and know you were the one who was always there. 

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Robin said suddenly before reaching for the bowl of popcorn at the coffee table.

“Anthony Michael Hall is making a robot girlfriend because he can’t get girls,” Steve explains, coming off a little perturbed that Robin was talking during the movie again. 

“They could’ve just asked out a couple of more girls- they didn’t need to let their end all be all be two girls with boyfriends,” she continues and Steve scoffs. He couldn’t believe he was really about to have a debate on realism with Robin right now over fucking Weird Science. 

“This’ll actually happen one day,” Eddie muses and is met with four heads whipping around to give him the same weird look. “You’re telling me that like fifty years from now, no one will have this figured out? AV geeks are desperate enough- Ow!” You’d hit him playfully on the back of the head. 

“You’re not one to criticize anyone for being desperate, Munson,” Steve chuckles and Eddie promptly flips him off. “You don’t exactly have them lining up for you either.”

“It’s been a pretty dry few years yourself King Steve,” Eddie mocks, and you see Steve crack his knuckles nervously, hating the conversation going down this road. No one meant for it to happen, but now you’re all wrapped up reflecting in your own loneliness that the mood of the evening was almost completely dampened. 

“Can you guys be quiet,” Nancy chastises, “Some of us are trying to actually watch the movie.”

“You cannot be serious?” Robin giggles, “It’s a stupid movie, Nance.” 

The night took a weird shift. Jonathan did eventually stroll in and Nancy was understandably hurt that he was so late. He pulled a kitchen chair over to sit next to where Nancy sat but she promptly decided to ignore him, silently stewing instead of causing a scene. Steve recoiled back into his own head- Eddie’s King Steve comment affecting him more than he thought it would. He watched Anthony Michael Hall and kept wondering if this would be his fate- no bitches. Had he really been that guy to have peaked in high school and then is destined to end up alone?

Steve’s comment towards Eddie made him also get lost in his own stream of self deprecating thoughts. He knew Steve was joking- but there was truth to it that made it sting. Eddie didn’t have a lot of experience with girls, most girls- hell including the one he was actually in love with- wanted really nothing to do with him. He wasn’t that guy. Girls didn’t look at him like that like they looked at Steve- how you looked at Steve. It made him jealous and sad and made him feel so painstakingly lonely despite being in a room full of his closest friends as you played with his hair. He could scream. 

And as usual, you preoccupied yourself with Steve- thinking about what Steve could be thinking about or watching the way Steve anxiously rubbed his palms against his jeans. Was Steve thinking about Nancy? Maybe, just maybe, you could catch him looking at you, even if just once. Maybe Steve would get up and go to the kitchen, and it could be an opening for you to check in with him since he’s seemed off tonight. You felt hopeless. 

Robin just assumed most people were quiet because they genuinely were watching the movie, but she realized something was wrong when she was the only person laughing. It couldn’t be that she was the only one who wanted to crack jokes or laugh at this godforsaken movie. She eventually caught on to something brewing in the air amongst her friends and it was incredibly unsettling. 

“GOD! I can’t take it anymore!” She exclaims, and everyone jumps. “What is wrong with everybody tonight? You all are acting so effing weird and I can’t stand it.” 

“Everyone’s fine, Robin,” you offer, trying to diffuse the tension. She shooks you a look. A “do you think I’m fucking stupid” look that could kill. Fair enough, you think to yourself. 

“Clearly something is wrong,” she reiterates. Annoyed with Nancy, Jonathan takes the bait and casts the first stone. 

“I don’t know,” Jonathan muses, looking at Nancy before letting out his irritation, “Might have to do with the fact you hang around with your ex all the time- and it’s clearly obvious he still has feelings for you.” 

Nancy gasps, offended that Jonathan would bring a fight that they’d had before into the room for everyone to comment on. Jonathan knew how Steve felt, and Nancy’s refusal to acknowledge his concerns on numerous occasions has finally made Jonathan hit his breaking point. He needed her to realize that he wasn’t jealous of Steve- but Steve was jealous of him. Nancy denied that Steve still held feelings for her. She was actually oblivious. 

“Steve and I are just friends!” Nancy insists, “I have told you that and told you that! It’s like you don’t trust me!”

“I don’t trust him!” Jonathan emphasizes. “Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, he still likes you and you still keep hanging around with him when you’re supposed to be with me, Nance.”

“I am with you! I’m your girlfriend, not his,” she snaps. “Steve, come on, please tell him he’s being ridiculous.” 

Most unfortunately, Steve stutters. He hesitates and fumbles, and couldn’t lie fast enough. The pregnant seconds where he’s at a loss for words tells Jonathan everything he needs to know. It doesn’t feel good to know he was right. 

“Sounds about right,” Jonathan scoffs.

“It’s not her fault-” Steve tried to interject. 

“Stay out of it Steve,” Jonathan sighs, “please.”

This fight was not about Steve, and everyone knew it. This was about Jonathan, and the way he hurt when Nancy dismissed his feelings. It was about how she didn’t take his concerns seriously or ever was willing to talk about it. He was sick of being dismissed as paranoid or jealous. He knew Nancy had no idea how Steve felt, but it wasn’t an excuse to inadvertently gaslight him when he knew something felt off. 

“I’m going home,” Nancy says, sitting up suddenly in hopes of making a swift exit to save her pride. 

“Nope!” Robin interjects, “We aren’t done. I’m not letting any of you leave until all of it is out in the open. I can’t go on like this. You guys are my best friends and we are working all of this shit out.” She takes a steady breath and Nancy surprisingly sits back down calmly. “So props to Jonathan for getting the ball rolling,” Robin quips, “let’s actually keep talking things out, yeah?”

“Steve?” Nancy looks at him, and she looks hurt. She feels so betrayed- like all of the times they’ve spent together as friends has been a lie. A ruse to win her back- she feels lied to and like she’s simultaneously lost a friend in the same breath. It guts her. She’s too stunned to even know what to say. 

Steve keeps his head down, too ashamed to look at anyone. He holds his head in his hands. You watch him intently, you absorb all his hurt like a sponge. You keep your gaze on him, wanting to reach out and comfort him. You look like a puppy who's been hit on the nose with a newspaper and Eddie scoffs. 

“Something you’d like to share with the class, Munson?” Robin turns, picking up on Eddie’s disgust. He shakes his head and avoids her knowing gaze. Fuck it, he thinks to himself. 

“I’m fucking pissed,” Eddie announces, standing up. The braid you were in the process of making slowly unravels as he moves. He looks to you and then to Steve. “I’m not even pissed at anyone, I’m just stewing in my own self-hatred because I’m in love with her.” Eddie points to you dramatically, not even realizing how much he’s revealing as his emotions get the best of him. “But she’s so in love with you,” Eddie points a finger at Steve, “That she doesn’t even notice me.”

“I don’t even blame anyone- of course you love Steve, you know? It just fucking sucks because I watch you and you’re always watching him and you keep hoping he’s going to see you and he never does. Meanwhile, I’m so in love with you that it physically hurts and I can never tell you because you’re my best friend and Steve is my best friend. And if you like her back, Steve, you should go for it. I can’t even put myself out there cause scenario one, I lose you,” Eddie gestures to you. “Scenario two- Steve gets his head out of his ass and you two finally get together. I lose both of you, because I can’t put myself through watching someone I’m in love with be with someone else. Or scenario three- you and I do get together and I’m all in- I swear to god, I would be all fucking in. But would you ever even love me as much as you’ve loved him? I don’t know.” 

It’s your turn to be stunned. For the first time, Steve’s looking at you and it’s not at all what you hoped it would be. You recognize the look in his eye, it’s the same way Nancy was just looking at him. Pity. You know then and there that Steve never once thought about you the way you hoped he secretly did. It was all made up in your head. Eddie looks defeated, and mortified all at the same time. He shocked himself at his outburst. He’d always been one for dramatics but never at your expense. He feels so guilt ridden that he could shrivel up and let the world swallow him whole. 

“I, uh, need to get some air,” you say. You grab your jacket from the hook and slide on your shoes in one fluid motion. “I’ll be back,” you say quickly, slamming the door behind you as you left Eddie and Steve’s apartment. You can’t help as the tears stream down your face uncontrollably. It’s one of those cries where it’s so hard you can’t even make noise as it takes all of your breath away. You’re practically doubled over in the midst of a panic attack when Eddie finds you leaning against the building. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he says earnestly, “That was so fucked up. I am so, so sorry. That wasn’t fair to you, that was such a shitty thing for me to say.” 

You manage to nod to let him know you heard him, but you’re blubbering and you’re still struggling to get your breath back. Hiccuped breaths finally catch up to you and you feel your lungs slowly begin to refill with air. The night’s cold air helps to clear your sinuses in one big breath. You wipe your face with the sleeves of your jacket. You can’t bring yourself to look at him just yet. 

“Steve is so lucky,” Eddie says after another few moments of silence. “To be loved by you?” He chuckles, taking a lean on the wall next to you. “Lucky bastard,” he jokes, and you manage a forced smile through the tears. “Must be the best damn thing in the whole world and he doesn’t even realize it,” he continues more seriously. “Well, until now, when I ruined everything,” he finalizes, sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it either,” you mumble, “God, what Steve was doing to me- I was doing to you? Fuck.” 

“Fucked up, right?” he teases. “How’s it feel, heartbreaker?”

“Really, really shitty,” you settle on and he laughs. 

“Yup,” he agrees, making a pop sound at the end. “Really, really shitty. Indeed.” 

“God, I wasted so much fucking time,” you admit to yourself. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he says softly, helping fix the collar of your jacket. It was tucked in because you put it on so fast and didn’t bother to fix it. “That I wouldn’t be able to trust you with Steve or whatever if we hypothetically got together or whatever- it was just a really, really ugly insecurity that bubbled up. If after this all blows over and you don’t completely hate my guts, and maybe by some miracle you wanted to give us a chance, I wouldn’t hold your feelings for Steve over you like that.” 

“Did you mean it that I’d lose you?” you ask, looking to him. He shakes his head. 

“I was talking out of my ass,” he admits, “I was emotional and just letting my frustration get the better of me. I won’t stop being your friend if you don’t like me back.”

“I’ve been doing that already,” he jokes and you swat his arm. 

“Not funny,” you grumble, but you can’t find it in you to actually be upset. 

“I don’t want an answer from you now,” he says, shifting back to a serious tone, but you can hear how nervous he is. “But if and when you get over Steve, and you realize I’m not that bad to look at- maybe you and I could go out sometime. I’m putting the ball in your court. I just want you to be happy. If you end up with Steve, I’m your best man. You end up with me, I’ll work my hardest every damn day to make you so fucking happy. No matter what, I will be your friend. You aren’t losing me.”

“Thank you,” you smile, and you pull him into a hug. You finally start to feel okay again. You feel like you could get over Steve, but then you remember that everyone inside is waiting for you- including Steve. The anxiety begins to stir and you can’t imagine facing everyone now after all of this. 

“I got you,” Eddie whispers, taking your hand, “We’ll go back together.” 

Eddie’s held your hand a million times before, but it wasn’t until now that you realize how well your hand fits in his. You shake your head to erase the thought from your mind for now and try to relax. The walk back up to the apartment is much longer than it’s ever felt before.

No one says anything when you both come back. You and Eddie kick off your shoes and he helps you take your jacket off. You sniffle, and quickly take your seat back on the loveseat. Eddie slips into the kitchen and grabs a six pack from the fridge. He holds it up like a fish he’s just caught triumphantly. 

“I think we all need one, yeah?” He jokes and he diffuses the tension as everyone agrees in tandem. He pulls them apart from the plastic ring, tossing them out. He throws you a wink when he tosses you yours and you can’t help but smile. 

“Can I just say,” Robin says, “Had I known you all were upset about actually serious stuff- I wouldn’t have opened this can of worms. I thought you were just pissed at each other about the comments about not getting laid.”

Nancy and Jonathan must have made up while you were outside because instead of separate seats, Jonathan sat on the living room chair and Nancy was perched on his lap. Steve was just watching you. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that Nancy was there. He was fixated on looking at you. He was taking in everything about you like he was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time. 

Fuck, if you weren’t beautiful, Steve thinks. He always knew you were, but he never really thought about it until now. Even after crying, you just look so pretty. He’s pained knowing he’s caused you so much pain. He looks to Eddie and feels jealousy rise irrationally. He’s jealous of Eddie for realizing how perfect you were before he did. It’s so fucking petty and he knows it. Eddie’s had all this time to adore you, while he’s squandered it following around Nancy like a simp. He’s loved you and lost you in the same fucking night.

“Let’s keep going,” Eddie jokes, trying to make light of the situation, “Air out more grievances- Buckley, you need new shoes. Those fucking chucks are abhorrent- please, get new ones. They are why your back hurts all the time.” 

“Okay, Mr. Same White Reeboks Since Senior Year,” she taunts, feigning offense to his jab. “Keep my converse out of your mouth!”

“I have boots now,” he says, pointing to the leather boots by the door. “Much more metal.” 

“Cause it’s fucking January, Eddie,” Robin says with a laugh, “Of course you’re wearing fucking boots.”

“Yet you strolled into my house wearing Converse,” he says walking over the the floor and pointing at Robin’s worse for wear Chuck Taylors. “It was snowing this morning, Robin! Please, as your friend- please let ME get you new shoes.”

“You can pry those shoes off of me when I’m dead,” she raises her voice. The lighthearted air has returned to the evening. It felt like it had been salvaged for now. Everyone seemed to be feeling better, except Steve. As the world began to pick up again, he was paralyzed- burdened with the knowledge of your feelings for him and knowing he might be too late to do anything about it. Was it?

PART TWO

[saturnicos]

Giving a bracelet to them

With: Adam, Alastor, Angel Dust, Charlie, Lucifer

ps:: reader's gender is not mentioned

. Charlie

She absolutely adores! Extra points if it have some decoration with rainbow.

She'll use all the time, only take off when goes to bed and when goes to take a bath — she is worried if she ends up breaking or losing the pieces, so try to be as careful as possible.

As she organizes and takes care of hotel paperwork she tends to feel stressed, and unconsciously looks at the bracelet, a smile forming and her spirits slightly picking up again. She's really happy with the gift.

"Wait, this's for me? Really? It's so pretty, thank you so very much!"

—

. Alastor

He... Definitely have it.

Like, don't get me wrong, he just not knows how really feel about it since he has never received a gift before from anyone, except from his mother.

Deep inside, he actually likes it! The color scheme matching with his clothes, and it isn't so much decorated and colorful; or how he would like to say, simple things are more pretty.

Alastor isn't using the bracelet frequently, most because he not like that type of accessories so much. He'll probably use when is far from you, like a way to remember of you and stuff (this man don't use phone not even if the world frozen), but in the most of the time the bracelet probably will be in the pocket of his coat.

"What do you have there, my dear? Oh, a bracelet, that's very interesting."

—

. Adam

He... Definitely have it/2.

But it's the opposite.

He's a bitch that will probably mock about it, but will quickly change when you feel upset and try to leave him alone, saying something like "Just joking, Sugartits/Hunk, I actually liked that, give me".

He'll use ALL the time, except when he's going to the extermination.

He will 100% brag about the bracelet to anyone when he gets the chance, saying how you spent your time making gifts for him (he's a complete idiot that loved this thing, but will never admit bc high ego lol).

Lute can't stand him talking about this damn accessory anymore, please, she begs you not to give him anything else.

TOTALLY extra points if it has a guitar pendant.

"Of course you make it for me, after all, you are madly in love with me"

—

. Angel Dust

Now, I think it's important to point out that Angel would act a lot more like Anthony with his S/O.

Using this as a base, he'll be SO happy receiving a gift from you. Obviously, he'll make some dirty joke about it, but deep down he wonders why he received it if it's not a specific date.

This poor boy is emotionally broken, little acts like this make him feel so moved and loved ☹️

Every time that him have a breakdown and isolates himself, Fat Nuggets comfort him, laying next to him and gently plays with the bracelet (or if he isn't using, Fat Nuggets will pick it up and take it to him, as if knowing it is an object of comfort).

"A gift? For me? You're so kind, baby~."

—

. Lucifer

Listen to me: this man would probably feel so much like crying — with joy — and nothing convinces me otherwise.

He'd passed the lasts seven years alone, without any love or compassion, having you in his life it's a great gift for him. Now, receive a gift from someone that he considers his greatest gift? God-

He would also be one of the will use all the time. Seriously, this guy probably don't take it off in any occasion, it's a regular reminder that there is someone else besides Charlie who loves him.

He's so grateful to have you.

Later, he'll make matching necklaces with duck pendants for you, he thinks that's a lovely way to say thanks :)

"What is this, sweetie? Oh... I'll use, that's so beautiful, thank you a lot."

Thank you for read !! I'm so sorry if this is ooc, but I hope it was pleasant anyway :)

[bosbas]

Chapter 3: it was all by design

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 1.7k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, morally grey daphne ??, slow burn!!!, anthony being a SIMPPPP (i love it)

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

June 2, 1812 - As you walked into Lady Danbury's ballroom, your hands were gripping the skirt of your dress to keep them from trembling. Tonight was the night you were going to ask Anthony to court you. You were asking him. It was an absurd concept at best, a lady asking a gentleman to court. But you'd already come this far, asking him to dance and all, so you supposed it wasn't that large of a jump from one thing to the next.

It wasn't real, you kept reminding yourself. It was just a way to give Daphne the season she deserved. And Anthony had absolutely no interest in marriage anyway, so he would surely not particularly mind when you ended things with him.

Besides, you were fairly certain he only saw you as a sister, much like Daphne, so it was doubtful he’d even be amenable to the prospect of starting a courtship with you. It was taking a lot of mental work to convince yourself that this would be fine.

But at the end of the day, you had your own reputation to think about. As much as you enjoyed spending time with Anthony at high society balls, you knew it wasn't the best for your image if you were constantly seen dancing with a man who wasn't courting you. Someone was bound to think that something was wrong with you. Several people had asked you already, actually.

So, you smoothed your skirts and steeled your nerves. This was the best option for Daphne. And for you if you wanted to keep spending as much time with Anthony as you were now.

Looking around the ballroom, your eyes met the eldest Bridgerton's.

His eyes immediately lit up, blinking as he took in your impressive ballgown and elbow-length gloves. Quickly, he started walking toward you, practically tripping over Cressida Cowper's train because he was in such a rush.

“Good evening, Lady L/N,” he bowed, putting on the stuffy voice you’d heard him use with his mother’s friends.

“Good evening, Viscount,” you responded, playing along with him.

He flashed you the most charming smile you had ever seen, and you understood completely why the ladies of the ton swooned over him. If you had his charisma and good looks, you’d probably be a rake, too.

“Fancy a dance tonight?” he asked casually, his hand reaching out to softly touch your dance-card-clad wrist.

“I suppose I do,” you responded, flashing him a vibrant smile. The nerves you had felt a few minutes ago had practically evaporated, leaving only room for excitement as Anthony interwove his fingers with yours and led you to the dance floor.

A few minutes after the dance had begun, you caught a glimpse of Daphne and Mr Norwood looking completely smitten with one another. It quickly reminded you of your goal for the night. If Daphne was going to marry Mr Norwood then you needed to bite the bullet and get this over with right now.

As you were staring intently at your best friend and the man she wanted to marry, your brow furrowed and lips pursed, you felt Anthony's warm breath close to your ear.

“What’s on your mind?” he whispered softly, sensing your mind was elsewhere.

Having spent so much time with you in the past few weeks, Anthony had grown accustomed to your quirks and knew that you weren’t being your usual self.

You froze. It was now or never.

“Um… Well… I was just thinking about how our dancing every night looks. To other people I mean. Given that we’re not courting,” you babbled, unable to meet the eyes of the man in front of you.

Confused, Anthony continued, “Is this about what I said the other night? About only being able to dance so many times?”

“No, not at all,” you reassured him. If you two did end up courting, you didn’t ever want him to think he was at fault. “Just some comments I’ve heard from ladies around the ton, you know how they are. They ask me questions I don’t particularly know the answer to,” you said dismissively.

“And you’re worried about how this will affect you in the future, as an unmarried lady?”

“Well… yes,” you responded lamely. Although everything you had said up to this point was true, you were still unable to meet his eyes, the guilt of deceiving him eating away at you.

Anthony knit his eyebrows together in confusion. Hadn’t you physically recoiled at the thought of courting him just a few days ago when he said it as a joke?

Regardless, he mulled over what you had said. He knew you fairly well, and even though you weren’t usually bothered by a bit of gossip (you were spending time with him even though he was the world’s biggest rake, for heaven’s sake), he understood your hesitation.

“Does this mean you want me to properly court you?” he asked gently, not wanting to scare you off again.

Perhaps it was the sincerity in Anthony’s voice, or just you realizing the gravity of the situation, but you immediately tensed up.

“No, I don’t think so,” you started slowly, torn between helping Daphne and protecting yourself. But you had already made your choice. You loved your best friend, but not to the point of breaking all social decorum and asking a man to court you. “Not at all,” you laughed airily. “I know you’re not looking to marry, and honestly neither am I. It was just a silly comment, my apologies.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

You cursed Daphne’s brother for being so perceptive. How on earth could he tell exactly what you were feeling?

“I don’t know,” you said, finally meeting his eyes. God, this would be so much easier if you had feelings for him and wanted to court him. Then you could just say yes and stop feeling so guilty.

Seeing how torn you were, Anthony decided to let the subject lie. The season was still only beginning, and there would be yet time to figure out what exactly was going on between you.

However, letting the subject lie decidedly did not mean that he would stop thinking about it. In fact, it was the only thing he thought about for the rest of the night, completely missing an almost inappropriate kiss Mr Norwood left on Daphne’s hand.

--- 

Anthony hadn’t stopped thinking about the possibility of properly courting you the following morning. He sat in his sunroom, rereading the same paragraph for the sixth time as he tried to focus on anything other than your anxiety-filled eyes the previous night. 

“Y/N was looking rather lovely last night,” commented Daphne offhandedly as she worked on her needlepoint. 

“What?” said Anthony, startled out of his thoughts. He’d completely forgotten his sister was in the room with him, too. 

“Y/N, last night, looking lovely,” repeated Daphne, covertly looking at her brother as he remembered what you were wearing at Lady Danbury’s ball. 

“Err… I suppose she did look rather fetching, yes,” he responded awkwardly, shuffling the newspaper on his lap to another page. 

Then, looking at his sister suspiciously, he added, “But I wasn’t looking to get married this year, Daphne.”

You had told her about how you’d been unable to ask Anthony to court, of course. You had apologized profusely, but Daphne would hear none of it. Reassuring you that it was no problem, really, and that she understood your hesitation completely, Daphne had decided to shift her focus to her brother. It was true, a woman asking a man to dance was completely taboo, and it probably wouldn’t even have worked. So, although you hadn’t outright asked Anthony to court, you had certainly gotten the closest to it that a woman in polite society could. Now all he needed was a little push. 

“Neither was Y/N, to my understanding,” she responded, keeping her tone light and her eyes on her thread and needle. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Anthony waved dismissively. “She’s said it herself, I’m the biggest rake in Mayfair. Getting involved in her would only hurt her image in the long run.”

“Don’t be daft,” laughed Daphne. “You’re a Bridgerton. Rake or not, I doubt any association with you would taint her image in the slightest. She’s been involved with us for years! She’s my best friend, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Anthony humphed, annoyed that his little sister was making sense. Stubbornly, he continued, “Exactly, it’s not a good idea to bring feelings into a courtship, anyway. She’s been a friend of the family for ages.”

Daphne shrugged, slowly becoming more supportive of her best friend courting her brother, whether it was under false pretenses or not. “I certainly wouldn’t mind, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

After a pause, she added, “And how do you know the feelings are there? That’s what a courtship is for, isn’t it?” 

She was in quite a similar situation herself, though she could never tell Anthony lest he completely lose his mind. 

Daphne looked up at her brother, almost seeing the gears in his mind turning. 

“Do you really think I should?” he asked, setting down the newspaper beside him. 

“If you want,” she responded flippantly, knowing Anthony had already made up his mind. 

“Oh my word, it’s almost afternoon!” exclaimed Anthony, looking at the grandfather clock on the other side of the sunroom. “I should go now, I suppose. What if someone else has already come to call on her? Am I too late?”

Daphne, highly amused at her brother’s sudden sense of urgency, laughed. “Only one way to find out…” 

But Anthony didn’t hear her response, already rushing out of the room to grab his coat so he could go call on you. Properly. Like a gentleman. For the first time. 

And funnily enough, Anthony felt no fear, no anxiety, no dread. Nothing that he usually felt when thinking about courtship and marriage. He was simply excited to see you.

—

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[alisonsfics]

knight in shining armor

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: you knew carmy would do anything for you in theory. when your abusive ex-boyfriend shows up at the bear, you learn carmy has zero hesitations when it comes to protecting you.

word count: 2k

warnings: mentions of abusive ex, violence (very minor and not graphic)

“God, I cannot wait to finally go home.” You groaned to Sydney as you cleaned down your station for the night. It had been an especially rough night at the Bear. “Tell me about it,” she responded, laughing to herself.

Carmy walked by the two of you, catching your attention. “I mean, nevermind, I love it here so much. Please, don’t fire me.” You teased sarcastically, glancing over at Carmy.

His lips curved upwards. He tried to hide the way that your sense of humor always brought a smile to his face. But he wasn’t as discreet as he thought he was.

“Don’t worry. This place couldn’t run without you.” Carmy joked. Sydney glanced between the both of you, noticing the pink tint on Carmy’s cheeks. She had to fight the urge to tell you both to get a room.

“Hey guys, Fak left early. Can one of you guys run this check out to table 13?” Richie called out. You quickly nodded and set down your towel. “Sure, Richie. I can do it.” You volunteered, taking it out of Richie’s hand.

You walked out to the one table with guests left: three men sitting in a corner booth. You heard them all deeply chuckling, fully focused on their conversation.

“Thank you for dining with us tonight. I just wanted to drop this off—” you started to say but froze when your eyes landed on one of the men.

It was your ex-boyfriend Anthony, well not just your ex-boyfriend, your abusive ex-boyfriend.

You felt a shiver run down your spine. His cold dark eyes stared back at you, leaving you with a sense of powerlessness.

The check fell out of your hands and clattered onto the table, hitting the silverware. Your only instinct was to run to safety.

Carmy was your safety. He was the only one you’d ever told about Anthony. He was the only thought in your head. You spun on your heel and headed back towards the kitchen.

You felt like the room was spinning around you. Your hands started shaking. You felt unsteady on your feet, like the ground could be ripped out from under you at any moment.

You stumbled into the kitchen, your anxiety clouding the noise in the room. You saw Carmy and Sydney having a conversation and laughing, but you couldn’t hear any of the words, only mumbles.

You ran to Carmy’s side. He turned to face you with a smile, about to explain whatever he and Sydney were talking about, but he noticed the panic in your eyes.

You breathlessly mumbled the word “Anthony,” hoping it was enough to jog his memory. Carmy furrowed his eyebrows at you, wondering if he’d misheard you.

It’d been years since you told Carmy about Anthony, so the name was far back in his memory.

The kitchen doors slammed open, smacking against the walls. Pots clattered onto the floor, falling off a shelf near the door. You jumped backwards, your heart starting to race.

Anthony stomped into the kitchen, and you could see the recognition in Carmy’s eyes.

Carmy grabbed your wrist and tugged you behind him. You cowered behind Carmy, not able to look at Anthony.

“Get the fuck out of here. I want you out of my fucking restaurant, you piece of shit.” Carmy yelled, snapping his fingers and pointing towards the door.

Sydney walked up next to Carmy, confused by all the chaos. “Yo, what the fuck is going on?” Sydney asked, looking at Carmy for an answer. Sydney’s gaze bounced between the rugged man standing in the doorway and Carmy’s death grip on your hand.

The pit in your stomach felt like it was going to swallow you whole. You kept your eyes focused on the floor, trying to convince yourself it was just a nightmare.

“Get this fuckhead out of here. Nobody lets him in ever again, you hear me? Where the fuck is Richie? Richie?!?” Carmy yelled, as the majority of the staff came walking into the kitchen from the locker room.

The silence of the room rang in your ears. Marcus jogged up next to you and Carmy. He’d immediately recognized the panic in your face and rushed to help.

Anthony lurched forward, attempting to grab your hand away from Carmy.

Carmy used his free hand to slap him away. “You don’t get to fucking touch her. You will leave her the fuck alone.” Carmy screamed. His face was bright red, his jaw clenched. Carmy was a fiercely loyal guy, but it was to an even higher degree when it was you.

It was only then that Anthony spoke. His words ran through your chest, making all your muscles feel tight. “You really have this little fucker whipped for you. Little manipulative bitch at it again.” Anthony yelled. His words seemed to hang in the air.

You got up the courage to look over Carmy’s shoulder, and you saw Anthony staring back at you.

Then, he turned his attention to Carmy. “Hey, short stuff, unless you’re her little boyfriend, I suggest you stay out of this conversation. It’s frankly none of your business.” He spoke, and Carmy’s grip on your wrist tightened.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go talk.” Anthony said, holding his hand out to you.

Carmy moved his hand to the small of your back and nudged you to stand behind Sydney. She wrapped her arm around your back, holding you close to her as Carmy stepped towards Anthony.

“Listen up, you bastard. She’s not going anywhere with you, and if I ever see you within a block of my restaurant again, I’ll kick your ass.” Carmy threatened.

You realized what he was doing. He was doing everything in his power to keep Anthony’s attention off of you.

It didn’t work. Anthony ignored Carmy and continued staring at you. “You got yourself a little boy toy here? He acts like your fucking protector and savior, and in return, what? You let him fuck you every now and then? Trust me, dickhead, the sex isn’t that good. You can find better. Nobody needs a little slut like her.” Anthony scoffed down at Carmy.

Anthony smirked, when he saw Carmy clench his jaw.

Before you could even process what Anthony said, Carmy punched him in the face, and Anthony fell back against the wall.

Richie finally emerged from the back door after Tina had gone to get him. “I wouldn’t recommend that.” Richie said, pulling the gun out of his waistband before Anthony could jump towards Carmy.

Richie wouldn’t use it, but Anthony didn’t know that.

“Get the fuck out of my restaurant.” Carmy snapped as Anthony ran towards the front door and his friends ran after him.

Carmy spun on his heel and pulled you into his arms. He cradled your body, comfortingly running his hands up and down your back. “It’s okay. It’s okay. He’s gone.” He whispered in your ear.

The room was silent as everyone processed what’d just happened.

“Richie, can you give us a ride back to my place? She can stay on my couch tonight.” Carmy asked softly.

Richie quickly nodded and grabbed his car keys as you both followed him to the car.

Carmy sat in the backseat with you, keeping your hand tightly in his. He was the best friend you’d ever had. He cared about you more than he could explain, which was partially due to his unconfessed feelings.

You didn’t utter a single word on the drive to Carmy’s apartment. Carmy quickly thanked Richie for the ride as he brought you upstairs. He was very aware of the glossy look in your eyes. He recognized and understood the trauma response better than anyone.

He held the front door open for you, keeping his hand protectively on the small of your back. “You want me to start the shower for you?” He asked you softly. You gave him a weak nod and followed him through his bedroom.

You waited silently as he set out a towel and everything you needed. “I’ll order some dinner while you take a shower, okay? Let me know if you need anything.” He said, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze.

You stayed in the shower extra long, letting the hot water run over you. You’d felt grimy since Anthony looked at you, so you hoped you could wash off the feeling.

You finally got out of the shower and dried yourself. You slipped your bra and underwear back on and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You don’t know what about it set you off. Maybe it was the defeated look in your eyes staring back at you. You felt like you were in the past again. You’d spent so many hours staring in the mirror at bruises Anthony had left on you. All the memories you’d forced into a box were spilling out.

You sunk down to the floor, cradling your legs in your chest. The tears poured out of you, and your whole body shook.

Carmy glanced down at his phone, realizing it’d been a while since he heard the water turn off. He cautiously walked over to the bathroom and softly hit his knuckles against the wooden door. “You doing okay?” He mumbled through the door.

You tried to respond but no words would come out. Your muscles stayed rigid, no matter how much you wanted to stand and open the door.

Carmy opened the door a crack, making sure you were okay.

He saw you curled up on the floor with splotchy cheeks and watery eyes. He felt his heart break. He quickly rushed towards you and picked you up bridal style off the ground.

You normally would have been self-conscious of Carmy seeing you in your underwear, but you were so detached that you almost didn’t notice.

Carmy’s eyes didn’t linger anywhere that wasn’t your eyes. He set you down on the side of his bed, and then quickly grabbed some clothes out of his dresser.

He lifted your hands up in the air and slipped one of his sweatshirts over your head. He grabbed the matching pair of sweatpants and slid your feet through the leg holes.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, as he helped you stand, so he could pull the sweatpants up to your waist and tie the strings.

You stayed completely still, still clinging to him. He wrapped his arms protectively around your waist. “You hungry?” He whispered. You simply shook your head.

“C’mere,” he said, guiding to his bed where he pulled back the covers for you to climb in. He crawled in to sit next to you. He turned on the tv and put on one of your comfort shows.

You leaned over, resting your head on his shoulder. He smiled down at you, running his fingers through your hair.

He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing he could say to fix this.

“Carmy?” You said, your voice coming out weak and fragile.

“Yeah, honey? What’s wrong?” He asked. He’d never called you a pet name before, but it just slipped out. “What if he comes back?” You croaked, your voice cracking.

He pressed a kiss against your temple. “He won’t come back, but if he did, I would keep you safe again. I promise, okay?” He assured you. He waited for you to respond and saw you fighting back tears.

“You risked your life for me. I don’t know how to thank you.” You mumbled, unable to meet his gaze.

He quickly shook his head, dismissing it. “You don’t need to thank me. I'd do anything for you.” He said.

Carmy was in disbelief that he’d actually been able to admit that after all these years. You paused and looked up at him, picking your head up off his shoulder.

You softly placed your hand on his face, cupping his cheek. His eyes glanced down at your lips.

You were worried he’d hear how fast your heart was beating as you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. He kissed you back gently, with a delicateness you’d never seen from him.

He rested his hand on your hip. You felt weightless when his lips were on yours.

You both pulled away slowly. You searched his eyes for any sign of regret. All you saw was the giant smile on his face. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.” He said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

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[favefandomimagines]

You’re Losing Me (a.b)

Summary: a simple courtship was not what you wanted from Anthony and you aren’t sure he’s going to give it to you.

AN: more angsty fluff for our fave Viscount!!

Prompts 1,3,4,8 and 14 used! I switched it up a bit to have a happy ending 😉 @lilithlunastark

Anthony Bridgerton was not a man accustomed to hesitation. As the Viscount and head of the Bridgerton family, decisiveness was practically stitched into the fabric of his being. Yet, standing before the grand fireplace of Bridgerton House, his hands clenched into fists, hesitation consumed him.

The letter in his hand had been crumpled and smoothed so many times it barely resembled paper anymore. The words on it, however, were clear: Y/N was leaving London.

He’d read those words countless times since the letter arrived that morning, the ink seared into his mind: I need space, Anthony. I can’t do this anymore.

Y/N had been in his life for months now. Though their relationship had always been complicated, they had settled into a routine—a tentative sort of courtship.

They’d spent time together, attended balls, would promenade in the garden, and had shared quiet conversations in the Bridgerton drawing room.

There were soft, stolen glances, and moments where it felt as if there might be something more between them. But the truth was, Anthony had always kept her at arm’s length.

He’d never made any promises, she always did. Thinking that one day he’d hear her. He never hinted at anything beyond their tentative connection. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for her—no, he cared deeply.

It was that, in his mind, marriage was a far-off thing, a burden he wasn’t prepared to shoulder. His family, his duties, his fears about love—all of these things weighed heavily on him. He had convinced himself that, for all their chemistry, there was no future for him and Y/N.

Yet, Y/N, with her bright, curious eyes and the way she laughed as if nothing in the world could go wrong, had slowly, unknowingly, slipped under his defenses. And now, her letter felt like the knife of reality digging into his chest.

He knew exactly what she meant by "this." Their tumultuous relationship, full of passion and pain, had reached its breaking point. And though he’d always prided himself on being able to command order out of chaos, Anthony felt helpless.

He could still see her face from their last argument, the way her lips trembled as she fought back tears. The way she’d looked at him—like he’d broken her heart—haunted him.

||

The memory of their fight played vividly in his mind as he stormed through the crowded docks.

They had been standing in the drawing room, the light from the evening sun casting long shadows across the space. Y/N had her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression both defiant and heartbroken.

“You don’t understand, Anthony,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t keep doing this—this dance where I’m always the one chasing you, waiting for scraps of affection. I need more.”

Anthony, his pride stung, had crossed his own arms in a defensive stance. “And you think I don’t? You think I don’t want to give you everything? Do you have any idea the weight I carry every day, Y/N? The expectations, the responsibilities—”

Her laugh was bitter, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare use your title as an excuse for pushing me away. You don’t think I see it? Every time things get difficult, every time I try to get closer, you retreat. You hide behind that cold, stoic mask like I’m not worth letting in.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice rising. “You know I care for you—”

“Care for me?” she interrupted, her eyes blazing. “You care for your horses, Anthony. You care for the family estate. Don’t patronize me with that word. I wanted you to love me.”

He froze at her words, his throat tightening. Love. He had never said it. He had felt it, burning in his chest every time he saw her, but the words had always felt like a vulnerability he couldn’t afford.

Her silence in the face of his hesitation was louder than any accusation. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This courtship, this... this nothing—it’s not enough for me. I deserve more than this half-hearted attempt at love. I deserve someone who doesn’t treat me like a passing interest.”

And with that, she had walked out, leaving him standing in the empty room, the weight of her words suffocating him.

||

The docks were bustling with the noise of carriages and sailors, the cries of seagulls punctuating the cacophony. Anthony scanned the crowd, his heart pounding with a sense of urgency he hadn’t felt in years. If she boarded that ship to Edinburgh, he wasn’t sure he’d ever see her again.

He found her standing at the edge of the pier, her trunk already loaded onto the ship. She wore a pale blue traveling cloak, the color washing her face in soft, muted tones. But even from a distance, Anthony could see the tightness in her jaw, the resolve in her posture.

“Y/N!” he called, his voice cutting through the din.

She turned, surprise flickering across her face before it hardened into something unreadable. “Anthony,” she said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to stop you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You have no right to stop me.”

He took a step closer, his voice raw with emotion. “You don’t get to walk away from me now, not after everything we’ve been through. Not after everything you promised.”

Her lips parted, but she said nothing. Maybe he really was listening to her. Anthony saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“I can’t stay,” she said after a moment. “This—whatever this is between us—it’s too much. I thought I could handle it, but I’m not strong enough. I can’t fix this, Anthony. I’ve ruined everything.”

How could he expect her to go back to their suffocating routine when she had bared her soul to him the night prior. They simply couldn’t.

“No,” he said fiercely. “You haven’t ruined anything. If anyone’s to blame, it���s me. I’ve been a fool, Y/N, and I’ve taken you for granted. But I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

Her laugh was bitter, her arms crossing protectively over her chest. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve hurt, Anthony? If I told you how much I’m hurting right now, would you even care? Or would you just turn away like you always do?”

The accusation stung because it was true. How many times had he withdrawn when things became too difficult, too emotional? How many times had he failed to be the man she needed him to be?

“I care,” he said, his voice trembling. “God help me, Y/N, I care more than you could ever know. And I’m sorry. I should have told you the truth. The truth about how I really felt about you. But I was afraid. I’m sorry for not trusting you.”

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. For a long moment, he thought she might turn and walk away. But then she sighed, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had finally become too much.

“Why now?” she asked quietly. “Why are you only saying this now, when I’m already leaving?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” he admitted. “Because it took the thought of losing you to realize how much you mean to me. Y/N, I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, and I’ll love you until my dying breath.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t look away. Slowly, she took a step closer. “Do you mean it, Anthony? Because I can’t do this again. I can’t keep putting myself through this if you’re not serious.”

“I mean it,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll prove it to you every day for the rest of my life, if you’ll let me.”

Her lips trembled, but a small smile broke through. “You’d better. Because if you break my heart again, Anthony Bridgerton, I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

He laughed, relief washing over him as he pulled her into his arms. “You have my word.”

As the ship’s whistle sounded in the background, signaling its imminent departure, Anthony held Y/N tightly, vowing never to let her go again.

[laneywrld]

Oh Baby | Lewis Hamilton mini series

part one.

word count: 7.7k

Warnings: smut, absolute filth. breeding kink

Lewis can't help but want to give his best friend everything she desires. she can have whatever she wants.

You were Lewis' best friend; the world knew it. The world also saw that he admired you in a way he hadn't anyone else.

You'd been in Lewis' life since the two of you were literal babies. Your dad was best friends with Anthony, Lewis' father, so in a way, you two were destined to be the best of mates. 

Sometimes, Lewis wishes he had the chance to meet you organically, but as quickly as that thought flickers through his mind, it is pushed away just as fast.

He would've been alone as a kid if you had come later in his life. But still, meeting you later would've changed the trajectory of your guy's relationship. He wouldn't be stuck in the constant lock of just being your "best friend."

He would continue to stick out his role and push through his torture if it meant you keeping him around.

Since you were kids, you two have been joined at the hip. You were always there to defend him at school when the bullies got to him. You were always down to follow his dreams with him, even if it meant convincing your dad to let you ride with his family to watch him go-karting in the sweltering heat. You were always there. 

You still are, and maybe that's what's got his heart thrumming in his chest as he watches you dance with his brother Nicholas. The two of your hands are entwined as you sway to the music blasting from the speakers.  

As Nicholas twirls you around, your eyes meet Lewis for a brief second, and you smile at him before you are faced with his brother again. You joke with Nicholas as the two of you dance, your head constantly turning to check on Lewis.

He loves how his family is your own and vice versa. He loves how you treat his brother with the same tender love and care that he does. He can't help but to admire everything you do, even if it's just including his brother in something as simple as dancing.

You give him a curious look as you sway with Nicholas. He only grins in return, raising his glass at you. He sees your eyes fleet over his shoulder, and then your mouth pierces together in a knowing smile. You tilt your head to motion behind him, and when he turns to follow your orders, he sees Laura approaching. 

When he turns back to you, you are no longer dancing wildly with his brother but sitting comfortably with your friends, accepting the shot Miles pours for you. 

Lewis shakes his head, turning to greet Laura. He shouldn't feel disappointed and he shouldn't feel an emptiness wallow in his gut at the mere fact that he can't watch you sway in the night. His girlfriend, (if you could even call her that), was approaching and he should be glad to see her, but he can't help but to relish in the fact that'd he'd rather observe you from a distance than be in her presence.

"Hey baby!" she cheers. " I'm sorry I'm late. I got hung up at the agency."

"S'fine." He smiles, embracing the hug. "Let's grab you a drink and then settle in with everyone."

Meanwhile you are trying your best to tame your friends and their instantly sour moods. "C'mon y'all. Be nice to the girl."

"Nice?" Whitney scoffs. "I don't like that lil' girl."

"Whit." You scold, "She's not for us to like; as long as Lew likes her, we support them, yeah?" 

"Whatever," Miles piques up, "She not good enough for my guy?"

Always the wiser one, you shoot miles with a frown that shows your agreeance: "We can think that, but who are we to decide for him? Lew's not an idiot. When the time comes to make the right call, he'll make it, yeah?"

"Yeah." Daniel says, "But the only right call would be you."

You smack your teeth, reaching for another shot. "Here this nigga go on his shit again."

The table erupts in laughter just as Lewis approaches with Laura.

"Guys, you all remember Laura?"

"Do we?" Whit scoffs under her breath, downing a shot. The group breaks into fits of sniggering. You eye them with a look that screams, Act right! before turning to face Lewis and Laura in your seat.

"Laura, hi! girl!" You dragged.

Once again, you shoot your eyes across the group; one by one, they all push out fake ass hellos or a mumbled What's up.

Lew watches on as you turn to him, smiling. He can't help it as his own grows wider.

After the phony greeting, Lewis drags Laura to sit with him. The only open spot is the two-seater across from you. 

Conversation is ablaze in the midst of the circle. You lean forward chatting with Laura for a while since no one else bothered. Lewis has his arm thrown over her shoulder but he is watching you. Like always.

"Oh, so you planned this gathering?" Laura questions.

"Isn't it obvious?" You joke. "Lew could never." You motion to the lights and grand decor located around the yard.

"Oh, please." Lewis smacks his teeth.

"Admit it, Lew. It's my thing. Tell me I did good."

"You did great." He smirks, leaning back, his legs spread in a way that has you ready to drool.

You divert your eyes, sitting back in your own seat.

"Y/N's so domestic, it's giving wife."

You squint your eyes at Whit, giving her the ultimate stink face.

"You're always going to be the stepmum to us Laura. We can't separate mum and dad." Mori speaks up.

There was an ongoing joke in your friend group that had been circling for years. You and Lewis were Mum and Dad, you two paired together so well that it was like watching the perfect marriage. Your friends referred to you as each others "hubby" and "wifey".

Still, your friends were beginning to get out of pocket, and you turned to Lewis expecting him to put an end to their shenanigans like any good dad would. He only smiles at you his eyebrows wiggling in a playful manner.

You feel your cheeks burn as he doesn't deny it.

"She is quite domestic, would make the perfect wife." Miles piques up from beside Lewis.

It's a scheme that you two were left out of, a plan made to force you two to realize your feelings for each other.

His words trinkle into Lewis' mind. He's always thought you'd make the perfect wife. He's thought about marrying you seriously plenty of times. It's also been a childhood dream of his to make it official, especially after having your own wedding ceremony at the playground under the monkey bars, commemorated by strawberry ring-pops and sand confetti that had both of your parents grumbling as they scrubbed your scalps clean that night.

He's only ever told Miles this, but he wishes he never got seriously involved that first time at all. He thinks he did it out of pure irrationality. You had your first serious boyfriend, and Lewis thought well shit. To him it seemed as though you'd never be that into him. So he spent seven years on and off with a woman he was unsure about when all he really wanted was you. He's wasted so much time.

He thinks back to the times where distance sprouted between you two. Nicole didn't like how close the two of you were, and you respected it even if he didn't want you to. He feels a bit like a dickhead thinking of all the times he lied to his ex telling her you were nothing more than a friend to him. It was obviously a lie. If it wasn't a lie he wouldn't have spent majority of his relationship trying to make you realize what it was you were missing. Hint: it obviously didn't work, or you'd be the girl under his arm right now.

"I'll be back in a few," you announce, standing from your seat. I'm going to go do my rounds. Give Lew a break." Lewis' stare was beginning to get intense, you could feel your little resolve crumbling the longer her stared into your soul.

He watches you stroll over to his dad and your dad, stepping in between them and wrapping your arms around their waist. He can't read your lips but can tell that whatever you said had the two doubled over in laughter. You pat their backs, trekking over to your next target.

You're a little ways away, refilling wine glasses at the "mum table." His mum has you saying something that leads to you smooching the top of her head as you pass by. You set the bottle on the table before suspiciously eyeing your mother and opting to pull it to the other end. Lewis lets out a chuckle, watching your antics.

It'd been awkward silence covering the group like a blanket since you'd left. Everyone watching Lewis, watch you.

You had convinced Lew to buy this house, practically begged him all of those years ago. "Lew, the backyard," you had marveled, hands outstretched at your sides. "Imagine hosting out here." You had gone on a rant, dragging him across each area of the yard and throwing out ideas for gatherings that didn't even exist.

He closed the deal that same day. He was glad he listened to you as he watched you light some sparklers for the group of kids. He watches you crouch down to his nephew's level, pressing him against your front as you direct the sparkler into his hand. 

He couldn't see your face but could tell you were muttering words of encouragement into his ear. 

You stand with a proud grin when he twirls the stick around confidently. 

You turn as a small child tugs on your dress, "I'm thirsty, Auntie y/n/n."

You coo, picking up your friend's child. "Hi, mama! let's fix that for you." You pop her onto your hip, waltzing into the house from the open patio doors. She runs out moments later, a juice box snug in her hands. You follow after, arms full of the very same juice.

You crouch down as the children huddle around you. You poke each straw through the hole before passing them out one by one.

"Look at Mama Bear." Whit laughs as her eyes follow Lewis' line of sight. He is watching you with a smile and that classic sparkle in his eye that he always seems to have when it comes to you.

"She'd make a great mum, huh?" Lewis rasps out. 

You're back at the fire pit before you know it.

"Yeah, Mori, you should totally let me kidnap your child next weekend."

"Have her girl, she's all yours." She scoffs, "badass little girl."

The group laughs, but Lewis can't help but notice the gloom flash over your face before it quickly washes away.

He knows about your desire to have a family. He remembers how you opened up to him about it after your last relationship ended, and you took it worse than you ever had before.

He remembers that day like it was yesterday.

You were a drunken, blubbering mess, sitting on his couch with puffy eyes and a blotchy face. "Ugh!" you groaned, reaching for the bottle to pour yourself another glass. He beats you to it, pulling it away and setting it down on the table at the end of the couch.

"Hey," he coos, his hand pulling you into his side as your lip wobbles. You can't help the outburst of tears for what feels like the 100th time.

"Let's talk about it, yeah? That might help a bit."

You had been friends for so long, and not once had he seen you this distraught. In fact, you were the one comforting him most of the time.

"I hate him," you whined, reaching up to cover your face. He got me over here looking stupid."

"Hey," he pulls your hand down, still holding you against him, just holding your hand down at your side as well. "Don't be embarrassed for feeling, ain't that what you tell me?"

"Yeah," you shudder.

"Now, talk to me."

"I wanted kids. I don't think i'm that hurt about him you know?" you don't give him time to answer, "I just feel like I'm not meant to be with someone, like love is not for me. Sometimes it seems like everyone has a person out there for them but me. I want a family of my own. I love my family and yours, but it's different." you cry harder then.

"I want a human to love unconditionally, I want babies, and I want to be a mom; I would make a great mumma."

"You would." He hums, his free hand coming up to wipe your face. You pull away turning to face him, your legs are crossed in front of you and he reaches forward grasping both of your hands in his. 

He has one leg propped under the other, and his body is turned to face you. The way he's looking at you makes you want to break down into another fit of tears. No one pays attention to you as much as Lewis.

"Is there something wrong with me?" You ask, and you sound so broken that Lewis is fighting off tears of his own.

"You're perfect." He assures, and his hold on your hands grows tighter. "There's someone out there who loves you whole. Through and through, you hear me? There's nothing wrong with you, just the wrong people you've come across. You're going to get all that you want one day. He was an idiot anyway. What happened anyway, huh? What made him-."

"I left him." you interrupted, "which is crazy that i'm crying over him this bad but I could feel a disconnect between us, we were too different, didn't have the same end goal."

"You know what's beautiful about this?"

You look up to him with a baffled expression to say what the actual fuck is beautiful about being an emotional mess. He chuckles, swiping one hand against your wet cheek, where he settles his palm to cup your face. 

"One day, when you get what you desire, you're going to appreciate it a whole lot more because of how much you had to go through to get it."

And if Lewis wasn't a scary idiot, he swore he'd given you a kid right there and then, hell, however many you wanted. He's always had a soft spot for you, giving you anything you could have remotely even thought about wanting. You mention wanting to visit Brazil, bam, you're on his private jet whisked away, you want a yard to throw family gatherings, the deed is signed. You complain about wanting specific cupcakes from your favorite bakery, he was out of town but it was nothing to have his assistant travel across town to place them at your door. The point is, he'd give you anything in a second. He's good for it and he'd give you his baby if you really truly wanted.

You look up to Lewis the same memory flowing through both of your minds, he shoots you a tiny smile, raising his glass in your direction. You return his expression sipping from your freshly filled wine glass. 

Your smile blows him away; he can never control the way his heart lurches; you'd think after years and years, your charm would lose its effect on him, but somehow, they grow stronger and stronger as each day passes by.

He doesn't know how long his group of friends sit around the fire pit laughing and chattering along (you including Laura every chance you get, seeing as your other friends seem to have forgotten she exists.) Before he knows it his father is approaching. "Son, there's a million sleeping kids all over your house, I think that's our queue to pack it up."

At that announcement you guys' friends begin to pack themselves up. Lewis says his goodbyes. The group sniggers as Anthony shoots a "Nice meeting you Lauren."

"He called me Lauren," she pouts, "and I've met him before."

"Don't pay it any mind," you speak up balancing an armful of empty glasses, "he's got a bad memory."

You scold your friends, shooing them off as Lewis apologizes to Lauren, Laura.

After a while the house is empty and you say the goodbyes in place of Lewis. As you load the dishwasher you see them bicker back and forth through the large window. 

You close the door, pressing start, deciding to stop evading their private conversation. You connect to Lewis' speaker, soft melodies bleeding through the house as you go room to room, collecting any foreign object that doesn't belong. You sit with Roscoe for a while after refilling his bowl, giving him kisses and rubs until his body vibrates with snores and then you are up and at it again finding anything to tidy.

You sing quietly to yourself you huff wiping the imaginary dust onto your dress. Just as you're going to sneak from the home, Lewis' voice halts you in your tracks.

"You're leaving?" His eyes are furrowed, and his face is scrunched up.

"I- uh yeah, I didn't know how long the two of you were going to be."

"You're not staying the night?"

Your eyes flicker between Lewis and Laura, "Um, no." you chuckle hoping he'd catch the hint.

As much as you loved Lewis and spending time with him, that love didn't cover listening to him fuck the brains out of his current fling.

"She's not staying," Lewis speaks up.

You are still frozen by the door, your hand holding onto the handle. You peek at Laura, her face covered in disdain.

Your mouth drops open and then closed, trying to figure out the words to articulate your desire to leave in order to avoid whatever weird tension is brewing.

"Bye, Lewis." Laura bites, her long legs striding past you quickly. You move to the side, and she slips through the door without saying so much as a word to you.

"Ooh," you whistle, watching as the door frame rattles from the intensity of the close.

"What's her problem?"

"Your friends are bitches Lew." He mocks in a whiny voice.

You laugh, clutching your chest, "They're a bit rude." 

"Yeah," he sighs.

"For good cause," you continue.

"Yeah."

"I mean, I don't like the girl either, but as long as you don't mind what she did then-."

"You staying." Lewis interrupts. He really didn't feel like talking about Laura, especially since he was alone in your presence for the first time today; it was all he wanted for his birthday.

It'd been three weeks since he last saw you, and while the two of you talked on the phone and texted every single day, it'd never compare to actually being in your space. 

You groan as he puckers out his bottom lip, giving you his signature puppy dog eyes that always seem to convince you to do whatever he's asking for.

"Only because it's your birthday, and these heels hurt my feet so much, I don't really think I can drive."

"Oh please," Lewis laughs, "don't act like you don't wanna spend time with me. Excuses, excuses, excuses."

You waddle over to him, grasping onto his waiting arm as you bend at your knees to free your aching feet from said heels.

He takes the shoes from your hand, leading you up the stairs. 

As the two of you approach his bedroom, you feel your excitement boil over.

When he opens the door, you speak up, "I figured what'd be a good gift for someone who literally has enough money to buy whatever he wanted. Then I remembered how much you miss home while you're away and came to the conclusion that money could never bring that kind of comfort."

Lewis sniffles as he looks at the array of gifts spread over his bed. 

There is a stuffed Roscoe and Coco, a scrapbook that you'd dug into the archives to fill, letters from his family, your family, your friends, and an array of letters from you. Flowers, because to you, he deserved his more than anyone walking. You'd recreated his favorite ever birthday gift to him, a knit cheetah that you had your grandma help crochet with you for weeks before his seventh birthday. It's safe to say the OG had gone through a lot over the years. And finally, his first helmet from his carting career. He remembers his parents not being able to afford his helmet after buying him a game console for his birthday.

He remembers how upset he was but understanding of his parent's situation. He also remembers you leaving his party that night, face set in as much determination as it could be for a kid. The next day, you popped up with your dad shoving a brand new helmet adorned in a purple sticky bow into his arms. It'd been so many years since he'd last seen the helmet; as a teen, he'd gotten rid of so many things he considered to be junk, the helmet being one. But the older he got, the more he realized just how sentimental stuff like that was.

"You don't understand how hard I had to search through my Granny's attic for that. She always figured you'd want that back one day, pulled it right out of your yard sale that day."

Off to the side were stacked shoe boxes, a box from his jeweler, and a few designer bags.

He throws his arms over your shoulders, pulling you into his chest; he nestles his head atop of yours before he cranes to press multiple kisses to your hairline. "You're my favorite person in the whole world, know that, right?" He rasps.

"You wrap your arms around his waist pulling him in closer. "I love you Lew, happy birthday. You deserve it all."

You don't know how long the two of you stand their wrapped in each other's embrace before you part. 

"You can shower in here; I'll hop in the guest."

"Unzip me?"

You turn giving him your back to face, you feel his hand reach up to gently swipe your hair over your shoulder, you shiver as his finger tips glide against the skin of your neck.

"I'm gonna unclip your necklace first," he announces, and his voice is raspier than usual. He gulps as he pinches at the golden clasp, reaching one hand around your front to catch the dainty piece of jewelry.

He places it into you waiting palm, and feels his hands get clammy as he holds onto your hip for leverage. Holding you into place as his other hand glides the zipper down your back. His mouth waters and his heart hammers at the sight of your glowy skin being reveled to him.

You hold the dress up at the front, staring at him from the mirror in the corner of his room. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and there is such a charged tension lingering between the two of you. There are no words spoken as the two of you revel in each others presence. Both of his hands are now on your hips as you fell yourself subtly lean back into him. His chains cool your back as you sink into him. 

You smile at him through the mirror, "I really did miss you, but I have to shower. I'm sweaty, and I've been chasing kids around all day."

He chuckles, nudging you away but not before leaning over your shoulder, craning his neck in order to place a lingering kiss on your cheek that is almost too close to the corner of your mouth.

"Go shower, stinky."

You roll your eyes, treading into the bathroom and closing the door. You let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding.

Fuck, it was so challenging yet so exhilarating being in Lew's presence when all you want to do is strip him bare and have your way with him.

You put those thoughts aside and turned on the shower.

When you're clean and dry, you exit the bathroom in your robe (Lewis always keeps an extra for you), where you see Lewis sprawled across the bed, clad only in a pair of boxers. He watches you as you stride past, his head lies against the bed turning to follow your movements. He watches you disappear into his closet and exit, covered in his Mercedes t-shirt that falls down your thighs.

He lulls away the inappropriate images flowing through his mind and instead focuses on the fact that you're wearing his shirt to bed rather than any selection of your clothing piled in his dressers or hanging in your section of his closet.

He makes no attempt to move as you crawl up the bed towards him.

The scene is an absolute vision; he feels blood rush to his member, and he has to use all of his willpower not to let out the lewd groan he's containing.

You only smile at him, and you look so fucking beautiful and innocent he swears if you stare at him for any longer, he'd say fuck it all and pull you down underneath him.

He starts a mental countdown, but before he reaches one, you are flipping onto your back, his arm serving as a pillow as you fit comfortably against his side.

You turn your head to the right, seeing the bottle of liquor in his hand. 

"Give me that." He passes it over, his lips turned up in a smirk.

You lift your head, taking a good bit down your throat before passing it back; he does the same.

"I've got to post you for your birthday!" You gasp excitedly. You two joke around as you upload to your pages.

y/u/n

liked by haileybeiber, landonorris and 1,472,872 others

y/u/n my favorite holiday, happy birthday lewlew, i love you to the moon and back, although you love to move through life fast I am always happy to spend slow days like this together with you cheetah, thank you for the lifelong memories and for sticking by me, i love you like no other <3

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whitwhit mum and dad ❤️ happy birthday pops

fencer Petition to make today a national holiday.

lewishamiton I love you more than life bunny, Thank you for today it was everything I needed.

lewishamilton

liked by mercedesamg, charles_leclerc and 3,563,986 others

lewishamilton Another one 🎂 Always a blast spending time with the people I love. Blessed to see another year surrounded by those I love. Special shoutout to bunny for the impromptu birthday celebration, every year that passes I am reminded of how we've gone through life together, always. Can't wait to spend many more years surrounded by love and happiness, thank you for the birthday wishes.

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user the way his post is full of him and y/n as kids. they really grew with each other 🥹

y/u/n cakes and candles my guy i luv uuuu

morismith +1 dad 🥳 child of a happy and healthy marriage

You two laugh as you scroll through your friends' comments. Somewhere along the line of you two passing the bottle back and forth, you began your own game of twenty-one questions, extra juicy, seeing as you two already knew damn near everything about the other.

"Hmmm!" you light up, "take a shot, or tell me why Nicki called you a weird little guy." 

Lewis smacks his teeth but breaks into a fit of laughter as you turn over, propping your chin up against his arm. Your feet kick back and forth as you stare into him.

"You're messy." He declares, downing another shot.

You groan, reaching over his bare body to take the bottle. "And you're no fun."

"What's one thing you've never told anyone, including me? I mean deepest, darkest secret."

You hum again, allowing Lewis to reposition the two of you. Now he is rested against the headboard, and your head rests on his lap. You let out a gentle moan when his fingers begin to rub against your scalp—his member twitches in his boxers.

"Answer the question." He demands his hands, pushing your head forward slightly to avoid the feel of his growing penis.

Your eyes bore into his, and he could see you fighting to decide whether to tell him or not. He almost tells you to take your shot until the words tumble from your plush lips.

"I used to have the biggest crush on you for the longest time, like probably was in love with you." You admit. Your eyes never leave his and it has his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He feels many questions running through his mind and they want to tumble out like an avalanche but like the relaxed person he is, he plays it cool.

"yeah, and what happened to these feelings, bunny?"

You smile at the nickname, rolling your eyes as you scoff. Lewis always picked at your cute persona as a kid, calling you as sweet and timid as a bunny, the bunny teeth also didn't help.

"You almost got married," you answered. "Realized that a childhood crush was just that, I let it simmer for so long that I made it seem realistic. When you started considering taking things further, I think I closed that book, locked that door, and threw away the key. It was easy when you left her and started running rabid like a fucking dog." you snort.

He laughs with you, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You calling me a slut?"

"If the condom fits." You tease. 

He rolls his eyes, but deep down inside, he is in shambles over the chance with you that he's missed. And he's regretting every decision that led up to you losing those feelings for him. "Next question."

You're staring deep into his soul with those sparkly eyes again and he can't help but return the same lovey eyes back. He always feels like this with you, wholly enamored and floored by anything that you do. 

You look so sweet and perfect that he doesn't expect the question that falls from your lovely mouth. "What's your favorite kink, like what's something that you do during sex that has you absolutely ready to go berserk?"

"You got a dirty mind, bunny." He teases, two fingers tapping against your temple.

"I've got a breeding kink, I think." He doesn't go into full detail, describing how he discovered it years ago when out shopping with you, and you passed through the baby aisle to shop for his newborn niece at the time. He doesn't describe how his pants tightened at the sight of you holding up cute little onesies or how his mind wandered to you laying spread out in his bed, being pumped full of his cum and loving it, begging for it. He doesn't tell you how he came the hardest he'd ever come in his life that night in his shower, imagining you plump with his child and a bright smile on your lips.

"Elaborate." There is a glint in your eyes as you observe him that urges him to finish his thoughts.

"It's something about loving someone so much that you want to fill them up with another part of you. You love someone so much that you want them to swell up with what is yours. Just fucking the cum back into them every time it slips out, one goal. Give someone my babies."

As he talks, his own words excite him; you can feel it, and you say nothing. The air surrounding you two is charged with such a lewd and sensual energy.

You throb between your thighs as he speaks to you, and his voice is getting deeper and deeper. He is hot and hard against your cheek; you stare up at him, your eyes leaving his own to trail the way his lips move to the way his jaw clenches, to the way his throat bobs all the way to his tatted, glowing chest. His words are getting to you. It's no secret that you, too, had a breeding kink, but hearing him say the words you wished to hear spoken to you in the midst of passion made you shoot into action. You are on his lap before you know it, mouth mushing against his in an instant.

He doesn't hesitate to return the favor; he separates your lips, gliding his tongue into your mouth, licking you open. You moan into his mouth, pressing yourself against him harder. He lets out a shaky breath through his nose, reaching one hand up to grasp the back of your neck and the other on your ass, pushing you impossibly closer to him.

You rock your hips against him, grinding down over him; he lets out a raspy groan, pulling away from your lips, his head falling to watch where your bodies connect; he lets out a moan as his grey briefs darken in color. You continue to glide back and forth over him

You swear you hear him whimper as you lift from his lap. He reaches to pull you back, but you are too fast; kneeling between his spread legs, the sight alone has him letting out another drawn-out whine. Your hand creeps up, rubbing him through the material. You were such a fucking vixen it was driving him mad. His head falls back against the headboard, and his eyes squeeze shut. You're barely doing anything to him, and it feels better than anything he's ever experienced, and he can only equate it to it being you.

You finally free him from his confines, and his head drops down to view you, and his jaw falls slack.

You jerk him up and down, your thumb swiping over the slit at the head of his perfect cock. You moan at the sight, and he twitches. You kiss at the top, staring at him through your lashes, and he swears he almost burst right then and there. Your lips are shiny with spit and you're practically drooling over him. As you place kisses up and down his shaft. You finally slip him into your mouth humming as you taste him. It has his legs spasming making you jostle a little.

You pop him from your mouth, giving him a cute smile that has him throwing his head back. She's going to fucking kill me.

You're moaning over him, driving him absolutely fucking insane. Lewis watches you through clouded eyes, his hand traveling to your hair. He pushes you lower and lower until you're shoving all of him down your throat, and then he pulls you off for air. You smile up at him going down again, and he lets out the nastiest moan you've ever heard.

"So fucking greedy for my dick." You'd never heard him speak like this, and it was scrambling your brain and your insides. "Mhmm," you moan over him. He holds onto your hair with his left hand, his right hand trailing to pull up the shirt that adorns your beautiful body. The higher he raises the shirt, the more unstable he becomes; the black panties cover barely anything, and when he continues to glide his hand up your back, your breasts hang loosely. He fondled them in his hand tweaking your nipple.

He tenses up, watching you take him down your throat like a champ, "fuuckk." 

He pulls you up for the last time, leaning down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. He thrust up into nothing. His tongue finds it's way into your mouth and moves along with you in the most sensual kiss you'd ever gotten in your life.

"Lew." you whine, and it has him tensing again. This was better than he'd imagined. For years for his entire life he'd pictured this moment, played it out in a million different scenarios and they don't even measure up to this.

He was harder than he'd ever been and ready to finish at the mere sight of you looking up at him with his cock stuffed in your mouth.

"I can't- I won't last-" He is breathless, and his chest is falling up and down harshly. He looks so perfect, face tinted red and lips red and plump.

"Fuck me then," you order, and it flips a switch in him.

He'd dreamed of this moment, and he would be damned if he let his mind fuck this up for him. He pulls the large shirt from your frame and flips you over, laying you gently on your back. He hikes your legs up, spreading them open and pressing them down. Your knees touch the bed flat at your sides, and you mewl as his tongue flatly glides against your core.

You shiver and shake as he sucks you up. You can't stop squirming as he literally eats you. You moan his name over and over, hands coming down to clutch his curls. He moans against your core, pressing you down harder. You quiver in his hold, and you can feel that ball inside you, ready to burst. "Come for me, baby, let it out." He urges kissing your clit. He sucks it into his mouth, and that's when it happens.

The best orgasm you've had in your life. He licks you through it before sitting up on his knees. He still has you spread open at his mercy, and the sight below him has him stroking himself above you.

"So fucking pretty." he rasps, "ready for me?"

You nod, so fucked out that words seem impossible to you.

He chuckles, his hand coming up to hold you open as his other directs his hard dick to your hole; he pushes the head in at first, hissing as you suck him in. "Mhhm," he moans, "want me so bad, huh?"

You mewl, trying to push your body up to push him in.

"Aht, aht." he pushes his hand against you harder. "Let me take my time, make it right for us, yeah. Been wanting this forever."

His words make you gush more and more; you'd never imagine that Lewis, of all people, was this vocal during sex.

"He lets go of himself, both hands now gripping your thighs that are still burning against your chest. He stares deep into your soul as he pushes himself in an inch just to ease out just as slowly.

"Gotta stretch this pretty pussy out first, huh? So fucking tight." he coos.

Your eyes fall closed, your mouth going slack as he slides in again. "It's your dick, baby. All yours."

"C'mon bunny, wanna see your eyes, wanna watch you take me." You open your eyes breaths leaving you as little hitches as he finally fills you up.

"He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes watching where the two of you connect. "Fits so good," he groans, "made jus' for me."

You only mewl and clench the sheets.

"So pretty," he drops your legs, propping himself up on an elbow; his weight covers you like a security blanket. "Mhmm." he moans, sliding in and out of you. Your walls were suffocating him, sucking him in and trying to keep him in place. His face is scrunched up in pure pleasure as he succumbs to your velvety walls. So fucking warm and wet.

"Love this pussy." he groans before his mouth is back on yours. 

"Say it's mine," he orders pulling back, he is towering over you again, one hand clutching your face to watch him watch you.

You only moan, equating his words to being in the moment even though they have your stomach doing flips.

"Say it's mine, baby, and I'll give you what you want." 

It's like he hit a switch in you, brought out a side of you that you've never been able to release.

"It's yours," you coo, "all yours, only yours."

His eyes shine at your words, pressing a quick peck to your lips. 

"Nobody can give it to you like me, they don't deserve it, been so good to you. Hmm. Can give you everything you want."

One hand travels down to your stomach, where he presses down, "Feel me in there?"

"yes." you gasp, eyes rolling back; the sex is no longer slow and sensual. He is pounding into you so hard that your body lurches up and down the bed, and your breast bounces with every thrust. 

Lewis Hamilton is a dirty man, you conclude watching his lips fall open from the dirty smirk he'd had it in. 

"Got something else to put in there." You clench around him tighter curses falling from his mouth as he stills inside of you.

You know he is only in the moment, this whole debacle started because of his admission of a praise kink, you know he's playing along with yours, he wants to get you there in the same way you want to get him there so you play along.

"I want it." you whine, "want it all."

Lewis thought it was impossible for him to get any hornier, but once again, you've proven him wrong.

"Want you to fill me up, want to be full of you." You play on his words from earlier. "Want all of you."

He moans once again, spreading you open. He is plowing into you. Loud grunts left his throat as he digs deeper and deeper into you. He can feel every crevice of your flesh as you swallow him.

"Gonna give you what you want, make you big and full, have you carrying my babies. Going to have what you always wanted, love."

Your eyes fall shut at his words in utter bliss.

He lays on top of you, the burn of your thighs spreading. His hands travel to your own, holding them on either side of your head. His head is nestled between the crook of your neck; he's sucking and licking along your neck. You feel him everywhere.

"mmph," you moan as he reaches and punches against your sweet spot over and over. 

Lewis is so fucked out in a loving haze that he can't control the words tumbling from his lips onto your skin.

"Wanted this forever, so long." He whimpers, "Feel so good, only wanna feel you. Only wanted you."

You free one hand from his hold wrapping it around to rub at the curls at the nape of his neck. You want him to keep talking, keep feeding you the words you've waited your whole life for him to say. "I can give you everything you want, baby."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you can't tell if it's from the pleasure he's giving you or the words he's dribbling out.

"Taking me so well, fuck!" he sits up on his knees again, turning you over without pulling out of you; you're on all fours as he plows into you from behind. 

"So mean, making me wait so long, letting me be with the wrong woman, should've been you." You clench around him eyes squeezing shut, you shouldn't enjoy these words as much as you do but you can't help it.

"Wanted it to be you, would've had our family by now, so many kids, so happy." You're literally shaking, the fire growing inside of you, making it impossible to ward off your second orgasm. 

"Been looking for you in all these women, never were you, never could be. Fucking couldn't get hard without imagining your face. Always had to be you." He sounds so vulnerable and open behind you. You want to see his face so badly, and you want to watch him as he admits what you've always desired.

Like he read your mind, he flips you over again, nestling between your legs and pushing himself in again with a hiss, "Gotta see your face when you come, love."

You're on top of him, relishing in the way he looks up at you. Your thighs are placed on either side of him lifting over and over as he glides in and out of you.

He looks so beautiful, you think even if he is spitting out the most wild and lewd words you've ever had spoken to you. "Gonna empty this dick in you baby, give you my baby. Make you mine, all mine." He growls.

"Could've had this all along if you said something sooner, bunny. Would have had you feeling like this all of the time."

His hands are on your waist, lifting you up and down over him. You fall forward one hand holding you up and the other reaching down to cup his jaw. You press your lips over his, breathless pants traveling from one mouth to the other. The eye contact is intense as you stare each other down. His eyes literally sparkle as he fuck up into you, his mouth dropped open. You kiss him one last time before sitting up again and setting your own pace, "Fuck Lew, you feel so good."

You're bouncing on him at a much slower pace as his eyes fall closed and his grip tightens on your flesh.

You're not responsible for what you say when you cum, it's common knowledge, which is why when Lewis flips you over and barrels into you at a much softer pace you let his words carry no penalty, albeit the way they make your eyes water, albeit the way you return them truthfully.

It's so overwhelming you can't help the way the tears flow from your eyes and slide onto the sheets. He's cumming in spurts, hot and gooey, filling you to the brim. Lewis has never come so much. He lets out an array of grunts and moans. He's so out of it that he lets his words tumble out without a care in the world, and he means them wholly. He's fucking his cum into you, pushing it back in with his dick as you quiver around him. 

"Love you, fuck, I fucking love you."

[lqveharrington]

My Wife | A.B.

summary: It was arranged for you and Anthony to marry for convince, but it seems as if the both of you find it much more than just a marriage of convince.

pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

includes: use of she/her pronouns, minimal use of Y/N, kissing, mentions of sex, some angst

a/n: i’ve been watching too much bridgerton and reading too much books to not write about him

After being wed and having one of the best wedding lunches, the new viscountess and Viscount Bridgerton found themselves with a dilemma. Although the two had known each other for quite some time before having to wed, they had not considered how they truly felt for one another. They merely saw each other as close friends through the years. So when their wedding night came — along with the added nights of their honeymoon — the newly wed couple did not know what was to come of them.

“You mustn’t leave us yet!” Hyacinth wraps her arms around your middle, smiling brightly toward her newest sister-in-law. “I still have so many things I need to ask you and so little time!”

“I’ll be back in a month, Hyacinth.” You press a kiss to her temple and squeeze her in your arms. You tuck one of her curls behind her ear and rub her cheek. “Besides, I’ve seen you grow into an amazing young woman so far, I doubt it’ll change in one month.”

She happily takes the compliment — albeit shyly — and took your hands in her. She swings them by her side and looks at you with all seriousness. “You must promise to be back in a month. No more and no less.”

“I promise.” You give her a soft smile. It wasn’t uncommon for Hyacinth to make you promise such things, she truly loved you even before you were betrothed to her eldest brother. You squeeze her hands gently, giving her a reassuring gaze. “But you must promise me that you’ll tell me all those stories of your adventures when I come back.”

“Of course.” She gives you a bright grin.

You give her an equally bright smile as she wraps her arms around you one last time before letting go, off to bother Gregory. The young Bridgerton boy gave you a hug, murmuring softly about how much he’d miss you before following his younger sister to stand by the front gates. They both were truly lights in the Bridgerton family, and you were happy that they both officially became a siblings to you. Even after practically raising them along side Anthony and Violet.

You move to walk over to the carriage when Eloise rushes over to you, eyes glazed and puffy.

“Eloise?” You stand in front of the young woman, catching her wipe her tears and sniffle. “Are you alright?” You bring a hand up to wipe her tears, giving her a look of remorse.

“I’m not bloody fine.” She sadly chuckled before pulling you into a tight hug. Eloise buried her head into your shoulder, sniffling loudly. “I can’t believe you married my prick brother.”

You quickly embraced the brunette, holding her close as her tears were soaked up by your white dress. You rubbed her back softly, murmuring a quiet response. “I can’t believe you’re crying for me and not Anthony.”

“Like I said, he’s a prick.” Eloise wiped her face with her bare hand, no decorum whatsoever. You handed her a handkerchief, nodding when she thanked you. She glanced back at the carriage awaiting you and Anthony before meeting your eyes again. “When I was younger, I thought that the easiest way for you to become my sister was to marry into the family.”

You listened intently, rubbing her shoulder.

“I didn’t think that you needed to marry after you helped raise us. You were practically family. I guess I never saw Anthony nor Benedict enough to marry such an amazing woman.” She fiddled with the bow at the front of her dress as she explained her thoughts for you. “When you came over one day and told us you were getting married to dear old Anthony… I think I was elated that you would really be our sister.” She looked up at you again. “I was happy that you and him came to your senses and that you would become the new Viscountess.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You forgot that no one else other than Anthony and your father knew that marriage was for convience. That the marriage was for the Bridgerton heir. Quickly, you mask your face. “I’ll let your mama handle being Viscountess for as long as she wants. I still have much to learn about that role.”

“Nonsense, you learned so much about it when you came over to help with Gregory and Hyacinth.” She nudged your side before pulling you into one last hug. “I won’t keep you long because Anthony keeps glaring over, but I truly believe you would be the best Viscountess the ton will ever see.” She pauses and looks over at her mother. “Well, besides mama.”

You shake your head with a playful grin, “I’ll see you in a month, El.”

She smiles softly as you step away to your carriage. You soften your gaze as you look back at her and the rest of the Bridgerton family. They were practically your second family and now they truly were family. You gave them a short curtesy for being a home to you when an arm wrapped around your waist. Without even looking, you knew who was next to you.

“Are you all done with your goodbyes?” Anthony teases, recounting how each of his siblings had a personal farewell from you. “I want my wife back.”

You scrunch your nose at his teasing words as he lays his hand out to help you into the carriage. “Jealous, Viscount Bridgerton?” You steady yourself as you enter the carriage, hand delicately placed in his. You adjust yourself in the carriage, pushing strands of hair off your face.

He squeezes your hand as he takes a seat next to you. He gave you a gentle look, eyes roaming around your face. “I would never be jealous of my siblings. Besides you’re stuck with me, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

You send him a soft smile at his words before waving toward the Bridgerton family once more as the carriage pulled away. You lean your head on Anthony’s shoulder like you usually did when you were younger, keeping your hand in his.

“You know, you don’t need to bow down to them.” Anthony gave a short peck to your head, rubbing his thumb on your hand.

You hum before speaking, “Your family has earned my respect over many years. I owe them at least one bow before I’m officially the Viscountess.”

He continues to rub your hand as he processes your words.

As the trek to Aubrey Hall began, you kept your hands intertwined with Anthony’s the entire time, occasionally one of you squeezing the other’s hand. You spoke mindlessly about the recent books you’ve read or how the visits to the modiste went with his sisters. You honestly did everything to keep your mind off from the impending wedding night that was to fall on the both of you.

And as if he read your mind, Anthony did the same. While he listened intently to your words, he added comments where he deemed it necessary and rubbed soft circles into your hand when he asked for more information. He would also tell his own tales, although they ranged from being drunk with his brothers to filing papers.

The tension between the both of you became apparent as you started to feel warmth lingering on your skin from his touch. It became even more ignited when you saw how he looked at you. He gave you such an amorous gaze, like you hung the stars up just for him.

You arrived at Aubrey Hall during nightfall, the lights outside just being lit by the staff already waiting for the both of you. No matter how many times you saw the place, you marveled at how beautiful it was.

Anthony stepped out of the carriage and dusted himself off before extending his hand for you to take. He led you through the house where the both of you would be staying, your things arriving well before your carriage came.

You let go of Anthony’s hand as you sat in front of the vanity, gently taking your earrings out and your jewelry when you saw him staring at you intensely. You raised a brow and opened your mouth to comment on it when he spoke.

The both of you quietly laughed at the unexpected mixing of your voices. You finished pulling all your jewelry off and stood to face him properly. He nodded for you to go first, taking your hand in his again.

“Anthony…” You say softly and thumb his pulse. “Can I ask you something?”

He hummed and met your eyes, creasing his brows when he saw the hesitation in them. “What is it?”

“I… You…” You pause, looking away and spinning your wedding ring anxiously. You rubbed your face before continuing, slowly meeting his eyes. “Did you truly only agree to marry me for convenience? For an heir to the Bridgerton name?”

Anthony let go of your hand and rubbed his jaw, sighing. “Yes… And no.”

You looked at him in confusion before he spoke again.

“I knew I had to marry someday. I thought it would merely be for an heir, but mother wanted it to be of love since Daphne found her true match.” Anthony chuckled softly at the fond memory of his sister in a now very happy marriage. “I wasn’t too sure how love with someone other than family was supposed to feel like. I wasn’t sure exactly how I was supposed to find someone to marry for love.”

The idea plagued your mind. You never knew what love from a significant other was supposed to feel like either. You knew love from your family and what the Bridgertons’ had shown you.

“I saw how mother was with father when he was still… I never really felt it.” Anthony gazed into your eyes with something you couldn’t place. “Not until recently. You,” He sucked in a small breath before continuing. “You lit up a room whenever you came by and my siblings adored you, I adored you.” He cupped your cheek softly. “There were countless nights where I couldn’t sleep because I knew you were available for any other man of the ton and you only saw me as a friend. A friend from childhood.”

You parted your mouth slightly at the confession, feeling the heat from his hands.

“When your father came up to me and proposed the marriage with you, I thought it couldn’t be bad. I would marry the woman who stuck with me my entire life. I accepted for the convenience of it all, but I truly felt more even before this arrangement was brought up.” Anthony brought his other hand up to your face and stared intently, rubbing the apples of your cheeks.

“What are you…” You trail off as he gives you a look to listen.

“I’m saying I love you, Y/N. With all my heart and soul. You showed me what love was and how it was supposed to feel.” Anthony says before pulling your face to his and capturing your lips.

You let out a small noise of surprise before melting into the kiss, letting your arms wrap behind his neck. He trailed a hand down to your hip and pulled you closer to him as you smiled into the kiss.

Panting, you part from the mind searing kiss and rest your forehead on his, eyes shut. “Anthony?”

Anthony slowly nodded, “Yes?”

“I love you too.” You kiss him again.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[vixenofthemist]

EVERLASTING VOW Abysswalker x Princess!MC/Reader Word Count: 20.9k Warnings: mdni, smut, arranged marriage (but not between rafayel and mc), Princess uses She/her pronouns, Slavery is discussed since this is set in the Golden Sands Myth

It was suffocating the amounts of perfume in the air, yet Her Highness, the Princess with the Eternal Heart, could only wrinkle her nose in displeasure before taking another sip of wine. 

“Natasha, how much longer do I need to be present?” She whispered to her maid. “The feast is done, and the dancing has begun. Surely I'm not needed for much longer and can soon retire.” 

if Natasha could have without seeming rude, she would have shook her head and deeply sighed. But, with the King and Queen nearby she did not dare.

“Please Your Highness, you must admit this evening has been pleasant! Why not try and enjoy yourself with fervor rather than counting down the seconds as if this is a sentence.”

 Looking around cautiously, Natasha then whispered in an even more hushed tone: “After missing your own coming of age ball, forgive me if I am not as lenient as usual. You really must take these events more seriously!”

Shifting slightly, Her Highness felt a little bit of guilt. Natasha had been completely white faced when the Princess returned from her outing with Rafayel. The stress of pretending to be royalty during such an important event had been more than anticipated, and Natasha was shaky for days afterwards from the nerves. 

“... I suppose it hasn't been the worst evening.” Her Highness relented, fanning herself with increased speed as the heat from the fireplace warmed her fast in the heavy gown. Natasha brightened.

“It has been indeed. OH! Look, I think a Duke is coming over to ask you to dance.”

Following Natasha's indication, Her Highness observed the man approaching her with a curious eye.

Lord Anthony Dashing, Duke of the Third River. A second son who had to take over his father's estate young after the untimely death of both father and elder brother. The Princess has known him in a cordial way for much of their lives, and perhaps could consider him a friendly face amongst the sea of nobles.

In addition, he was not awful on the eyes with his dark hair tied at his nape and blue eyes that smiled at her and Natasha as he approached.

If she had to fulfill one dance for Natasha to consider this ball a success, then he was not a bad candidate. 

“Good evening, Your Highness.” He greeted with a low timbre, and Natasha bowed back to give the two of them space. “I hope you are well.”

“Lord Dashing, it has been some time! You've returned from your trip I see.”

A hint of puzzlement came over his face.

“Ah- yes. I have been back for some time… Do you not recall our conversation at your Coming of Age Ball? I traveled back purely to attend.”

Shit, she hadn’t thought to ask Natasha who she'd danced with that night. She'd been too caught up with thoughts of Rafayel and his surprisingly pouty lips beneath the mask to consider anything else that night.

“Forgive me, that ball is a blur. Much was happening and I talked to, it felt like, everyone in the kingdom. As well, the mask was awful to see through. I could hardly tell who I was talking to!”

That seemed convincing enough, and the Duke's face eased from his suspicion.

“It was a peculiar choice of ornament, especially for your Coming of Age event, but I am confident His Majesty had his reason.”

“Father has always been one for eccentrics.” The Princess noted, glancing over to the man who had adopted her. “Surely you remember the year he had all the noblemen hunt a specific type of sand seal for his Coronation anniversary, all because he wished for a new crown out of their tusks. Or, goodness, I had almost forgotten myself, Mother's birthday when he had her greet everyone behind a curtain because he did not think anyone else should see her.” 

A memory of Lord Dashing himself popped to mind, and a teasing smile curled her lips. 

“If I'm not mistaken, you tripped on the curtain, did you not Lord Dashing?” 

Sheepishly he nodded.

“I did indeed. I was but a child with two left feet at the time. I promise, however, that I am much more coordinated now. Might I prove it to you with a dance?” He was a picture perfect example of a gentleman as he held out his hand. 

Yes, this will satisfy Natasha enough to let her retire for certain!

She closed her fan, and accepted his hand.

“Very well. I will be judging your coordination growth with my own two eyes.”

Unfortunately, any hope of escaping this suffocating social event was soon dashed as accepting one dance broke the dam. Mama's flocked to introduce their sons and have them ask her to dance in droves. An hour had passed, and feet were starting to throb. She wanted nothing more than to leave.

Dreadfully, however, just as Her Highness thought she might be able to slip away the Queen approached with Lord Dashing in tow and grabbed her arm.

“Dear, I can tell you are getting tired but I declare that this last dance must be with Lord Dashing! Not only did he provide the star entertainment tonight, but also his continued diligence in establishing our relationship with Starfell Kingdom must be rewarded”

Sending him an expectant look, he answered. 

“I would be honored to have a second dance with someone as beautiful and esteemed as Her Highness.”

“Have it you shall.” Arm was passed from the Queen to Lord Dashing. “Go now, be center stage.” The Queen commanded, and both of them had to comply.

In front of the symphony pit, commotion was happening as staff hurried to and fro in preparation for this penultimate song, and curious eyes were drawn to the curtains rising up and revealing a tall woman with beautiful features and long curled hair.

She was dressed well in a sparkling gown of blue, but there was an unmistakable weight on her leg to show she was shackled beneath all the finery.

A Lemurian slave, Her Highness realized as Lord Dashing led her to the dance floor.

Thoughts at once were of gorgeous duochrome eyes above a mask carved with jagged teeth.

The Princess’ hand might settle on Lord Dashing's shoulder as the weight of his palm brought her waist closer to his body, but her mind was not present with him, nor anywhere in the fourth ballroom of the palace. 

Rafayel would be a good dancer. He was light on his feet and agile, with a sturdy body for the lifts and fully capable of carrying her.

Perhaps she should ask him the next time he came to see her… he would be reluctant, but he was not one to deny her whims for long.

  Inevitably he would shake his head with a sigh she would dare hope held affection, before holding out his hand and taking hers and-

A hand with too wide of fingers disrupted her fantasy.

Like a mirage shimmering from a beautiful oasis into the reality of endless sand, the handsome face that was the only source of water that could quench her endless thirst shifted to that of Lord Dashing lit by the swaying chandelier above. 

The orchestra had started playing, and feet carried on well practiced patterns without much need for thought, and the Princess tried to hide the disappointment in her heart with conversation.

“So it’s true then. There are other kingdoms beyond the desert?” It was a question she had been brimming with curiosity about ever since her father told her of the treaty. Rafayel had said there was only desert left of the ocean, but perhaps other places still thrived? Perhaps even, there was a sea somewhere out there…

“Indeed, there is much beyond the desert. Though tis a treacherous journey to get to the end of the sands, and even more dangerous to climb the rock face between our land and our neighboring kingdom of Starfell.”

That was intriguing news she hadn’t heard before.

”A rock face?”

Lord Dashing nodded, but before he could expound an enchanting voice rose along the current of the music and caught everyone’s attention toward the main stage. The Lemurian woman had begun her song.

“Perhaps I can tell you of my adventures some other time, Your Highness. This moment should be for appreciating the now.”

The second time Lord Dashing had disappointed this evening, but the Princess merely pondered his offer.

Getting called upon by a gentleman held expectations of courtship, and she had fought hard to hold off such things till her coming of age; yet her curiosity had always taken propriety over caution. A fault one had to grow when confined to a singular place their whole life.

It wasn’t all that bad of a habit, however. It had led her to reunite with Rafayel.

”I would like to hear more.” 

Lord Dashing’s smile was almost boyishly shy as he briefly broke eye contact.

“I hope I make a more lasting impression this time, Your Highness.”

The Princess gave as encouraging of a smile as she could before her gaze swept across the ballroom as the rhythm continued to carry the dance onward. 

All attention seemed to be on the two of them; as if they were the gossip that would fuel the rest of the season with this single dance. Only the Lemurian women was not paying them a lick of attention, her focus towards the rafters as she swayed.

In turn, the Princess was the only one who cared to notice and wonder what was so interesting in the ceiling above, and she got her answer when Lord Dashing dipped her at the crescendo and her whole vision was now the vaulted ceilings and beams as her head craned back till it almost touched the floor- 

There, in the darkest shadows where no flame dared touch, she met the burning gaze of a twilight above water. Making direct eye contact with her.

The Palace and surrounding city went to sleep that night spreading the news of how the Princess had never before smiled so happily as she did at the end of dancing with Lord Dashing.

Unbeknownst to all the gossip, Her Highness at last retreated to the sanctity of her bedchambers and disrobed herself of all the jewels, make up, and clothing of the evening as Natasha prepared a bath.

Everywhere hurt. 

From her heels to her scalp where pins had held hair up tightly for hours- even muscles she had not known could become sore were making their presence known.

”People finding such engagements enjoyable astounds me. I’m in pain everywhere, and where I am not in pain I tire.” She sighed as she sank into the warm water. “Though, I suppose this might be the first ball in years where I am not reprimanded. I behaved myself too well.”

”You always say such things as if it is bad. Did you truly not enjoy anything about tonight, Your Highness?” The smile that grew on Natasha’s face was almost teasing. “What about Lord Dashing? He seemed enjoyable.”

The Princess made a noncommittal noise, bringing her sudsy hand up to rest her chin on it as she gazed toward the light of the moon..

”The music was beautiful. I… did not know the family had received another Lemurian. Did you, Natasha?”

The maid shook her head.

”I am merely your lady in waiting, I am not privy to many things about the castle. That’d be the head maid who’d know such things.”

Memories of how Rafayel had looked when she’d received him flashed through her mind. How thin his wrists had been in his shackles, and the marks of whips against his flesh… How, when offered food, he had admitted he had not eaten in days…

”Send her a meal from me.” The Princess ordered, hand falling outside of the tub as she stared at the ceiling. If only Rafayel were in these rafters too... “A filling one. By my standards too. Make sure the cooks know that.” 

She was known to have an appetite, the cooks would understand.

”Was her performance that pleasing to you, Your Highness?” Natasha asked, surprised. Before her hand came to her mouth and her eyes sparkled. “Or… perhaps what happened while she was singing pleased you? You did permit Lord Dashing to call on you… A rather marking occasion I would say!”

”If that’s what you’d like to think.” Her Highness dismissed, finding it too troublesome to insist that the dance with Lord Dashing hadn’t been anything to write home about. Her toes felt like they were going to throb off her feet. “Go do it now, please. I’d like to be alone for a while so that I might properly relax.”

The room was silent for only fifteen minutes, before the slight opening of the balcony door caught in her ear and familiar footfalls padded across the room.

Her heart leapt.

”I-I’m in the bath!” She yelped, bringing her hands up to cover her chest as she turned towards the divider separating her from the rest of the room. Water sloshed slightly onto the floor at the sudden movement and an amused chuckle came from the assassin as he briefly stopped to tap at the glass of the fishtank. 

“Did you think I was going to pass the clear divide?” Rafayel asked, bemusement written all over his voice, and his shadow stepped into view through the folding screen. Backlit by the candles behind him. “Or did Your Highness hope I would?”

”I- AHEM, I’m permitted to be cautious!” Her cheeks were burning, and she was grateful the light was not as prominent on her side, so he would not be able to make her out like she could him. “You’re always far too comfortable in someone else’s bedchamber, you know.”

”I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” He said, bringing the total amount he had told her those words to six. He never seemed to keep anything in mind, despite it. “However, I am in haste this night to ask you a favor.”

”A favor?” Her Highness asked, bringing her knees up so she could rest her still warm cheek against the hard surface. “Oh, do you want me to help you free the Lemurian women who sang tonight?”

He paused, and she took that as a yes.

”Of course I’ll help, I do owe you many things for taking me beyond these walls. What do you need?”

”You’ve presumed far too much as usual, Your Highness.” Rafayel sighed, shaking his head. “It would be dangerous- perhaps even treasonable- to help with that endeavor.”

He did not deny that he planned to free the women, so the Princess pressed for more information.

”Is she your lover?”

”Wha- no!” Rafayel’s shadow looked taken aback, and slightly disgusted at the very idea. 

Good. 

The Princess hummed, picking up a grouping of bubbles into her palm.

”Then I shall help free her! I do not care for keeping anything trapped within these walls, not merely myself. It would break up the monotony of the day to day, certainly, to do something as exciting as a heist!”                      

“… If Your Highness is volunteering, then I shall not argue. However, it is still not my favor.”

The bubbles melted into water, and she tilted her palm so that it streamed back into the tub.

”What is it, then?”

”That Her Highness is more cautious with those she dances with. Not all who are men are gentle, despite how they might act.”

Not expecting that, she froze for a moment. 

Blinked.

Then giggled.

”Perhaps I ought to dance more next time, if only a few spins around the room is enough to get you to visit!”

”Her Highness misunderstands.” Rafayel pinched the bridge of his nose.

”I tease!” She laughed, stretching one leg out as it was starting to cramp a little, and the water echoed her movements throughout the room. “Truly, I have no problem fulfilling your wish this time. Most of those dances were dreadful, and my feet hurt something awful!”

A moment of silence was interrupted by a knock, but before he was gone, Rafayel muttered into the air, emotion leaking through his usual facade: “So you enjoyed some of them?”

====

The sand beneath her feet was wet, and brought up from beneath the sea by waves that crashed and curled a dark gray. 

The Island was not small, yet she did not care ever to go inland; She always continued on her path. Walking the beachside as cold water rammed around her ankles before retreating back to the depths.

She was waiting for the sea to come swallow her, yet it only ever tasted. Nipping at her wrists with splashes that burned like fluttering kisses or rushing up to engulf her when she sat- willing it to just take her to end this eternal damnation- but it always returned without her. Caressing her thighs as if to taunt her.

Reminding her of how lonely she was.

Reminding her that she did not deserve the sea.

—-

The Princess awoke drearily, yet forced herself to get out of bed.

Her fish Blu-blu was fed with sprinkles of dry flakes fluttering down into the water from her fingertips, and after he’d gobbled his fill she leaned down to eye level.

”Hey, I have another message request O’ Emissary of the Sea God. Tell Rafayel that… to get a full understanding of how much I like dancing, I need to dance with him first.”

Her finger pressed against the side of the tank, and the blue fish swam up and bonked gently against the glass separating them. Whether that meant message delivered or not, she couldn’t tell. But it made her feel better to do anyway.

”Thank you!” She gave him a little extra food, as a treat.

Natasha soon arrived with her itinerary for the next few days. Scheduled for her by the King and Queen.

A usually boring affair filled with nothing, so Her Highness only glanced at it- preoccupied with breakfast- but as her tired brain registered what it said, she choked a little on her sausages.

”This cannot be right!” She declared, giving the list her full attention now as she picked it up. “When have I ever been allowed this many visitors?! And all of them are men?”

Blu-blu in its tank gave a glub of disbelief as horror dawned on her.

”Natasha- NO! This cannot be!” Breakfast forgotten, she stood up with enough force to shake the table. “Are they- do they want me to marry?!” 

“You are of marriage age!” Natasha noted, attempting to help. “However, do not fret too much for it will not be sudden! Your heart is the very salvation of this kingdom, which means your hand is the highest prize a man could ask to receive, and His Majesty will not accept just anyone.”

”What about me? What if I do not accept them?!” Her Highness demanded. Natasha swallowed, and there was sympathy in her eyes. 

“I fear most marriages are not one of love, Your Highness. OH- I know that does not please you but consider how wonderful it might be!” She walked closer, and took the Princess’ hand. “You remember my older sister, yes?” At the nod, she continued. “ She got married two years ago and you would not BELIEVE the change in attitude she’s had! Turns out, the cause of all her issues were-well-“ Natasha paused, looking around as if she and the Princess were not the only ones allowed in this chamber (and Rafayel, though Natasha did not know that). “Our parents.”

That, caused Her Highness to still, and listen a little more intently.  

“Now that she has a husband, she lives with him. The rules and beliefs of our parents no longer rule her, and she has grown incredibly happy, despite not loving her husband!”

”Are you saying that… maybe… if I get married… I could leave the palace?” The words left Her Highness’ mouth slowly.

”Not exactly but… it is a possibility that you should not shut out.”

Swallowing, still braided hair moved with her nodding.

”I… will consider it.”

Unspoken was the addition: I will consider it if I am unsuccessful at escaping.

As soon as Natasha was gone, she made her first solo escape attempt since meeting Rafayel.

It went as well as it usually did, and ended with her being escorted on either side by guards straight to the Queen’s parlor.

The Princess met the Queen’s unamused look with a smile.

”Morning Mother! I thought it a beautiful day to walk the city but, as usual, I was not allowed.”

”Of course you were not, child.” The Queen sighed with a great shake of her head. “The Lemurian rebels stalk the streets and would for certain see to have you killed! Which is why you should joust any thought of leaving the palace from your mind and come sit. We are meeting guests in thirty minutes and we must be prepared.”           

Reluctantly, the princess did so. 

“I see it came to your attention that your father and I are looking for a marriage for you.” 

“Grateful that you asked for my opinion.” Said dryly. 

“Why would we ask when we know you would not see how it is for your benefit?”

”Well, you are wrong, mother. I am not against getting married, I am against it being forced upon me!” The Princess huffed, crossing her arms with a scowl. “In fact, I’ve always dreamt of getting married, but you would not know that about me, would you? Well, if you doubt it, ask my old Nanny and she’d tell you how I used to dress up as a bride and throw pretend weddings to a stuffed animal as a child!”

That caught the Queen by surprise.

”I- Do not accuse me of being a bad mother, I can hear it in your tone!” 

“I do not need to accuse-“

A sharp sting rapped against knuckles, as the Queen’s fan hit the Princess’ hand. Hard.

”Silence this instant! We will be receiving four potential suitors today and you must be on your best behavior- and that includes respecting the woman who has raised you!”

The woman next to her had never been a mother. She’d just been the wife of the man who happened to stumble upon an abandoned baby in a cave with a heart that can make a Kingdom thrive even in a desert.

She hadn’t even wanted to keep her. Only allowed it because her husband promised to bring in his mother to help care so she did not have to lift a finger. Her tune changed swiftly, when the King found out about the gift and arrived to take the child. 

When her husband refused, the wife killed him as a sign of loyalty and gave the girl to the king to become Princess. Eventually earning her spot as Queen by his side.

The Princess sometimes mourned the father she never got to have. The one who loved her enough to refuse the riches of a King.

Perhaps that father would have liked Rafayel.

The Princess liked to think he would have, because she liked Rafayel.

However, he was long dead, and she was forced to spend every day of the next week meeting and spending time with men who talked of her as if she was an object in a vault.  A fanciful cage of flesh holding the true treasure they all sought- the divine powers of her heart.

It was rather impressive that she held out till the fourth day to reach beneath her pillow and retrieve the fish tail beacon. 

“I've had the most dreadful week!” She said to Rafayel as soon as she saw strands of purple hair peer into the room. She sat up and swung her feet off the side of the bed, properly tying her robe to cover her nightgown. She might ask the man to come to her bedchambers, but she still held some sense of decency! “It will only get worse I fear- everyone has gone mad!”

“I've been out of the city and far from the palace, I'm afraid I know not what Your Highness speaks.” 

Beads shifted as Rafayel lifted them, and at last his face was clear in her view… yet she found herself unable to look at him.

She just let the words fall from her lips as she looked anywhere but him.

“It has been decided that I should marry.”

His movement halted out of the corner of her eye at once, and he became a statue, yet still the Princess kept her head down towards her knees. Fists clenching the bedsheets.

“A year ago I would have been thrilled to meet so many people, but now it feels like I'm being set in front of one jailer after the other each day.” Her stomach knotted as she remembered overhearing a group of these “suitors” talking. “And those who are not jailors feel like brutish dogs salivating to get a meal…” 

A shiver of disgust coursed through her, springing her to her feet as she began to pace. Not noticing the way Rafayel's jaw had clenched and his eyes stayed fixed to where she had been sitting.

“I cannot stand to be forced to wed! Are they truly not satisfied in holding me prisoner that they have to dictate my marriage as well? How dare they try and force the only chance of happiness I could find out of my hands!” Feet halted in front of the fish tank, and she bent at the hips to look at the fish staring back at her. “Not even mentioning the caliber of men they are presenting. See that horrible rock?” A finger jabbed in the direction of a geode half settled in the corner of the tank with a rather peculiar formation. “Everyone’s talked non stop of how thoughtful of a gift something so beautiful is, and he certainly had much poetry to wax when giving it, but as soon as he thought I was gone he referred to it as “a representation of what the Princess could give me the wedding night”-“ 

 Bead strands snapped in half in Rafayel’s fist as a flicker of a flame blossomed through his fingers, scattering half on the floor and half on the bed. She didn’t notice however, too caught up in her anger.

”That’s when I took a closer look and realized what part of a woman it resembled. I almost chucked it at his head, but a maid picked it up before I could and put it in the tank. I’d get it out but I’m too short and chairs and stools get removed each night so I don’t use them to escape. UGH!” Long hair flipped around as she stomped/turned, folding her arms as she stalked away from the horrible thing. “I did not think life in the palace could get any worse, yet here it is!”

Footsteps stuttered to a halt when Her Highness realized just how long it'd been since Rafayel spoke or moved. It was entirely unlike him.

Turning, she walked over, calling his name.

”Rafayel?”

No response to verbal, but he caught her wrist as she went to poke the exposed part of his cheek, turning his attention to her finally.

She wished that she could read his eyes, for they seemed to be screaming a phrase over and over as they stared at her, taking in the features of her face as if drinking her presence like it was sustenance. The intensity made her flush and a tingle of thrill coursed up her spine.

Boldly, she pushed back against his grip and he relented in allowing her to reach for him. The backs of four fingers brushed past his bangs to his brow bone, then down to the tops of his cheek right below the eye.

His lashes fluttered, and he leaned into the touch. His breathing was getting heavier by the second.

It emboldened her to step closer, past his knees. Her emotions felt caught in her throat as a strange mixture of indignation and something much deeper coursed through her.

”Rafayel I… I don’t want to marry any of them.” Her figure collapsed against him, arms flung on his shoulders as one hand gripped the chain at the back of his hood while the other found a strap to hold. “You don’t want me to either, do you?”

She buried her face against his shoulder and tightened her grip. Sheltering herself from the world and what his lack of reaction could mean in the darkness of his hood.

“Please say something.” She begged, voice low and pleading. 

A sharp inhale reverberated from within Rafayel’s mask, before an arm was around her waist lifting her onto his lap. Her legs were on either side of his hips, nightgown riding up to her thighs beneath the robe but she couldn’t care any less.

Rafayel was hugging her.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been held.

“No one in this palace of thieves and villains deserves to marry you.” Rafayel’s voice trembled low in anger. Wrapping her even tighter in his embrace. It emboldened her even further. Right hand releasing his back to grasp his face as she turned her head to look at the outline of his jaw in the dim light.

“Then- then take me away!” She pleaded, pressing her face further into his neck; nose brushing against the sensitive skin beneath his ear. Inhaling his scent in her next shaky breath. 

Saltwater and leather and steel.

She felt his throat bob beneath her lips as her exhale sent her warm breath across it.

“I do not want to belong to anyone but my most important person.”

A kiss was pressed to the delicate flesh beneath his ear, and his whole body shuddered in response and she could hear the strangled groan that rumbled from his chest to his mouth. She kept going, trailing with more fervency down along the edge of the mask. Punctuating in between each desperate kiss with a “please”.

His hands were on her shoulders as her lips just barely grazed his adams apple, pushing her just far enough away that she could now see his eyes.

They were an almost blazing shade of pink like the deepest pools of water beneath the morning sun, and Her Highness felt like she was getting drunk off the intensity of them and her own emotions. The tip of her nose bounced against his- still covered by the mask- as she swayed. 

“Is that your wish?” Rafayel asked, his tone low as he steadied her with a palm on the side of her head. Thumb resting at the corner of her mouth.

It was. But more importantly-

“I want it to be yours.” She confessed in a whisper, before leaning forward and kissing the spot on his mask where she knew his mouth was beneath it. The leather was pliable enough that it sank beneath her weight till the resistance of him halted it.

With eyes closed her senses devoured every sound of his labored breathing and the texture of the mask against her lips as she peppered kisses wherever her blind aim landed. So when his hips bucked -ever so slightly- as her hand settled over his heart she felt every inch of his pants rise and drag against her thighs but not reaching where she needed it most.

The sensation still rose a whiny moan from her, and Her Highness went to press onto his lap but in a blink she was on her back on the bed- pink robe slipping out of its knot to spread around her as Rafayel hovered over her, Holding the offending wrist as the other hand tore the mask off his face so he could press a torrent of kisses and nips into her palm and fingertips.

Moonlight filtered in through the drapes surrounding her bed, showing the flush of his face and ears to her and the occasional flash of teeth before it sunk ever so slightly into the flesh of her thumb. A whimper came from her throat, and an apologetic tongue flicked over the indentation of teeth. Eyes opening to meet hers.

“Are you sure, Princess?” He poised the question before nuzzling his nose down to her wrist where the remnants of her perfume lingered just enough to keep him from going completely feral over her natural scent. “All you need do is command me to stop.”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything.” She breathed, inching her hips down towards him. She needed to be closer. He was always too far yet so within reach and she couldn’t bear for him to be distant tonight. “Rafayel, you’re too far away~”

A chuckle accompanied the hand grabbing her leg and dragging her towards him. Her nightdress fully over her hip on one side by the time she was situated against one of his knees.

“Always so demanding, My Princess.” 

The way the words “my” rolled off his tongue made her bite her lip; her thoughts only of how he was leaning closer and closer and closer-

She raised up to meet him, and their first kiss was anything but chaste.

Open mouths slotted against each other and tongues danced for both of them were starved. 

Seconds passed without breaking, and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as her lungs began to burn the longer they kissed, but she only held onto him tighter. Clutching his hair to push him more into her mouth.

Her Highness felt possessed with the need to drown in him.  For him to take all her breath- to devote her final moment of life to be with Rafayel’s lips on her and their left hands intertwined- but he pushed distance between them and her lungs rose with a rush of fresh air.

He fumbled to find his mask as his own breathing came out ragged and wheezy, and realizing it was the thing prodding against her back she hurriedly shifted to grab it and give it to him. 

Slotting it over his nose, Her Highness held it there so that he could regain whatever life force Lemurian’s needed without the ocean in this tepid desert. Watching his beautiful face scrunch with sweat and desperation as his chest heaved, a little bit of guilt tugged at her heart.

”Are you okay?” She asked once able to talk, hips rolling slightly against the leather of his pants and he pressed it further against her clothed core as he nodded. Sweat beading down his forehead.

”More than okay.” He rasped, grabbing her hand gently to remove the mask. His skin felt feverish as he pressed a kiss up the column of her neck. “Never felt easier to breathe.”

”Y-you’re burning up Rafayel!” Her Highness gasped as he sucked at her pulse point. Shuddering up into his chest as she kept seeking friction against his leg. 

“Yeah. You make me this way, ya know?” The zipper of his shirt was pulled down, and she tried to wiggle to a position where she could see his skin, but he held her firm in place as he nipped her ear. ”Only you Princess…”

She whined, one knee hooking around his leg to try and get more pressure against her aching center as she urged him down for a kiss.

He was ever attentive, and he unwrapped her leg to reposition it on his hip. Shifting so there was room for his hand to push aside her garments and slide his middle finger down through her tender folds.

Princess broke the kiss with a gasp- looking down to see in the moonlight the glistening on his gloves as he now pressed a thumb to tease her entrance with delicate circles.

The texture of his glove felt electric, and she keened in approval.  The hand not holding the mask flying down to encourage him to go faster with a grip on his wrist.

“Yes! There- need you there!” She muttered breathless.

”As my Princess wishes.” Rafayel obliged, hair sticking to the sweat on his brow as he kept his eyes locked on the sight of her beneath him. Thighs trembling in anticipation for him to stop teasing.

He moved downward to prop himself on an elbow near her hip, shifting her leg onto his shoulder. In this position, the sliver she could see of his defined abdomen made her lick her lips- though quickly her tongue was replaced with teeth as he dutifully inserted a finger.

Pants of encouragement fluttered out of her lips as he moved the single digit in and out. Reaching places in her walls her own hands never could, and when his middle finger joined Her Highness found herself babbling. Squirming her legs around the sheets and his shoulder while fisting the corner of a pillow as words tumbled out of her.

��OoH  y-your fingers shouldn’t be used for holding d-daggers RafAyelll they should be for something wonderful like paaainting or or piano or-“

”Making you feel good?” He interrupted her rambling, curving one of the fingers inside her and her back ARCHED at the sensation.

”YeaaHHHhhh-“ She moaned in agreement. Rafayel was pistoning at a faster pace and she felt the intensity inside of her building- it was nearing the precipice of going over and his thumb grazed a bundle of nerves that made her see stars-

But it all was interrupted as a blood curdling scream ripped through the air from somewhere in the palace and all at once the motion stopped.

Rafayel was alert, looking over his shoulder as he listened.

No no no no no she had been so close but his warmth was gone and he was off the bed moving to look out a window.

”Rafayel?“ She panted, rolling over and reaching towards him. “What’s the matter?”

A curse in a foreign tongue made dread seep into her heart.

”TCH! The guards are on the move.” The blazing pink in his eyes was gone when he looked back at her, moving with great speed as he snatched his mask off the bed. She missed grabbing him by seconds, flinging herself onto her other side to try and catch him but he was too quick. 

“Are you leaving?!” She asked, panic rising her voice. 

“I have to.” Is all Rafayel said in response as he put the mask back on.

“But what about…” Me.

Rafayel looked at her, laying on her stomach now with her clothing in disarray. Eyes blown wide and panic written all over her pretty face that was still flushed from the pleasure HE had been giving her moments ago. Body still crying for attention she only wanted from him.

He took in a deep breath, and zipped up his shirt.

“I'll explain later.”

Her Highness’ entire body deflated in dismay and tears welled in her eyes as he hurried to the balcony. He was leaving. He was actually leaving after- after she had begged him to not leave her here!

She jerked her head to face the opposite wall as tears stung down her cheeks. She couldn’t watch him go. Watch him leave her shivering and lonely and ACHING. Fuck was she aching and unsatisfied. 

She could stop him with a sentence, but selfishly, she wanted him to make the choice. Wanted someone to choose HER and not her heart for once in her fucking LIFE but if not even her most important person would then- then-

Her scream/sob of anguish was muffled by the pillow she grabbed to dull it, but it still reached Rafayel’s ears as he climbed down the wall.

His entire body was revolting at him to go back to her. She needed him, his beloved bride had been beneath him while her walls pulled him in and throbbed around his fingers and she’d BEGGED him to take her in marriage and in body and he was just leaving her-

But his duty to the Lemurians who relied on him kept him moving down. Away from her. 

Rafayel knew what happened to cause the scream. Algie and Marietta.

Algie had promised to stay hidden. Had begged and begged for weeks for him to let her observe life at the palace from the shadows, and tonight he had relented because the summon of the fishtail beacon always made him too eager to think properly. 

The blood of whichever human they had killed was on his hands, not theirs. They were young still and freshly filled with the bitterness of vengeance. He, however, was the God of the Tides. He should have instructed better. Observed more closely.

That was why he had to make sure they weren’t caught and punished by the humans.

The lake was in sight, but Rafayel paused to allow himself another steadying breath. He had to be focused on helping Algie and the others, not back in the high bedroom where his twitching desire begged to return. 

Despite his rightful title as the Sea God and how much he was able to control his mind, at his core he was still just a Lemurian deeply and utterly in love. Which was why, before going into the water, he looked at his wrist where the gleam of her slick still clung; and he licked it clean.

====

The Princess was unwell the next morning, so her meetings with suitors were postponed till the afternoon.

It didn’t stop Natasha from sharing the news that was all about the palace: The gruesome murder of the head cook.

”Eyes clawed by nails too sharp to be human the maids are saying!” Natasha shivered as she swept the beads on the floor up. “I dread to think the rebel Lumerians are able to make it into the Palace… does not the very thought make you frightened?!”

From beneath the cocoon of blankets the Princess gave a vague noise of response.

She felt like she’d barely stopped crying on and off since she’d been left, and the dehydration left her with a pounding headache. 

A lemurian rebel was the very cause of the mess Natasha was cleaning up, and part of the princess found it humorous. But most of her just ached.

Natasha was unfettered by the lack of response, and kept talking.

“It scares me something dreadful! I don’t understand how the markets seem so unphased with all the murders that have been happening, but I suppose since Lemurians are a luxury only the highest of nobles can afford they’re clueless to what they are I bet. Though the Lemurian singer has caused quite the intrigue among commoners because of your acts of giving her food. As usual Your Highness is an emblem for the people to follow and-“

”Natasha?”

”Yes, Your Highness?”

”Be quiet, and stop talking about Lumerians.” 

“Y-yes Your Highness.”

Natasha left her soon after that, and at last sleep found the Princess though so exhausted was she that she had no dreams. 

Or perhaps even the oceans of her mind followed Rafayel’s example and discarded her.

She could not sleep the day away no matter how much Her Highness wanted to, as a few hours later Natasha was back and she had to refresh herself for the upcoming visitations.

A lie about how she’d dropped a book on her neck while reading was enough for Natasha to not question the dark spot on her throat, and a dress with a high collar was chosen to hide it. 

As Her Highness stood, looking in the mirror as Natasha laced up her dress, she tried to steele her resolve. She refused to be defeated and just lay around and let things happen to her. If marriage was an unavoidable option then she was going to delve headfirst into making it happen in a way she approved.

Not in the way she wanted anymore… that option had left her crying all night, and she couldn’t bear to think of it any longer.

”Natasha do you… truly think a marriage might save me?”

”Whatever do you need saving from, Your Highness?”

”Forget I said anything.”

The fruit trees had yet to be harvested when the Princess strolled through them to the sitting area circled round a fountain with the royal family standing center stage as marble statues.

It was built to commemorate the wedding of the King and Queen and the establishment of the royal family that would lead the desert kingdom into a new age of prosperity, yet Her Highness barely spared it a glance as she sat on a bench. 

She was readying her resolve for the afternoon of callings, and she couldn’t allow herself to get distracted. 

Natasha stood off to the side, and the Queen was watching from a balcony above as guards escorted the first hopeful suitor into the orchard.

He was dismissed ten minutes into the call, for he was not of high enough rank to provide any leeway of freedom to her if they would marry, and the next man did not last much longer for he kept staring at her bosom.

Six suitors in all in 3 hours.

Number three seemed to have potential, till he slipped that he’d crave a treasure of a woman like her to never leave his side and bitterness was immediately in the Princess’ mouth as she asked him if he often traveled. 

He had never once left the palace, nor did he have any plans to ever leave his manor.

Number 4 was old enough to be her great grandfather, which could open options of independence if he was to soon die- but quickly Her Highness remembered her heart did not allow the denizens to pass away of natural causes, and though she was not opposed to having him assassinated the only one she know who could do that was… 

With a sniff to hide the immediate sadness and pulse of longing that wanted to sprout at the thought of him, The old man was sent away.

Five lasted thirty minutes, but he also seemed to think of her as something to be put in a display case, and he dismissed her as anything but a breathing jewel.

Number six was Lord Dashing.

”Your Majesty.” He bowed. “Forgive me that I was not able to call upon you sooner to finish our conversation of my adventures, but your time seems to be highly sought after these past few days. Completely understandable of course but… I brought you something to make it up all the same.”

From behind his back, he produced a bouquet of strange flowers.

”I’ve never seen these before!” Her Highness gasped, taking the bouquet to inspect each unique bud. “Are these from-?”

”Beyond the desert? Yes.” Lord Dashing smiled, glad to see she was excited. “Not only that, they’re fascinating flowers that only grow during something other kingdoms have- winter.”

He explained what winter was, and the Princess just could not wrap her mind around the concept.

”Nights are cold out in the desert I’ve heard, but you’re saying if rain and cold happen at the same time something called… snow happens?”

”Hard to imagine, I know.” Lord Dashing chuckled, now sitting beside her on the bench. “But I swear I saw it with mine own eyes. Water that falls from the sky gets so cold that it becomes soft ice that is gentle to the touch yet burns you still. If I could have bottled some up for you, I would have. However… the heat of the desert takes it almost immediately back to water. ”

For the first time since last night, Her Highness felt a spark of delight.

”I’d like to witness snow in the desert one day! It sounds… magical.”

”It truly is a wonder. The locals thought me mad the way I was fascinated with it. But it coats the trees like icing sugar on a pastry! I commissioned a local artist, recommended to me by the Crown Prince of Starfell, to paint me landscapes of the snow so I might take the wondrous view back home. When I get it, I shall have to show it to you.”

”I’d like that! Tell me more, you mentioned trees? What kind.”  An hour passed, and Her Highness picked Lord Dashing’s brain of all the questions she had.

Forests existed, which were large grouping of trees much like an orchard yet naturally occurring. Lord Dash had gone on an expedition with Prince Xavier and his knight in one of these forests and encountered something called a mountain. A large rock formation that was taller than the palace.

Lord Dashing, Her Highness slowly realized as they talked (a little reluctant to even think of it), was a good option for marriage. He traveled often, so she would have time to herself to escape or even maybe sneak along one of his travels, and he was not bad conversation when they had to be together. Perhaps this was the marriage of convenience everyone talked of. 

The Queen seemed pleased by this, drinking tea and smirking with satisfaction as she looked down on them.

 However, the conversation took a swift pitfall.

”The oddest thing about traveling to such a far away place is objects we take for the norm are unfathomable to them. For example, they’ve never heard of Lemurians as anything but myths! They could hardly believe me when I told them I can have one gifted to his Majesty Lightwood.”

Her Highness’ back stiffened at once, yet Lord Dashing did not notice. He continued talking.

”Speaking of Lemurians, I’ve often wondered what became of the one that my Father gifted you for your birthday years back.”

What.

WHAT.

”I… did not know that was your family.” Her Highness spoke as her mind reeled but one thing was immediate and certain.

Lord Dashing was off the marriage list. She could not marry into the monsters that gifted her Rafayel.

“Quite alright Your Highness.” It made her skin crawl the way he was talking about this in the same tone he had in speaking of a peculiar rock he’d picked up from beneath his boot. “It was lacking the usual markings to show it was from us, but because it was for you father thought it rather crude to brand it.                                                              . He prided himself on the trade of Lemurians, and though it is not my main pursuit I do keep up the family business. My question still stands, however. Might I know? I’ve never seen him around the palace.”

”I’d-I’d rather talk about anything else.” Her Highness said numbly. The sun felt too bright all of a sudden, her throat parched and unbearably dry.

She’d had no idea. The gifts given to her were always a blur of faces and voices, and Rafayel had mattered more than anything else that happened that day. 

Rafayel- Rafayel DID matter to her still. More than anyone on Philos.

“I would not take offense if you had him killed.” He had the nerve to say and then CHUCKLE. “It’s difficult to keep them alive sometimes, fickle things for supposedly being so magical.” 

That was the final tinder for the fire that sparked in the Princess’ soul, and she stood up. The bouquet hit his chest with a hard THWACK. Petals scattered all around.

”HOW DARE YOU! To even insinuate that I- I would KILL him is-” She could not even get out the words. She was beyond furious. “If I had known you had such a foul aspect of your soul, I would have dismissed you much earlier! You may go.” 

She ignored the combined calls of Lord Dashing and Natasha for her to wait, and she stormed out of the courtyard. Slipping down hallways and passages blindly in her anger.

She was not going to marry Lord Dashing, not anymore. He was off her list. Fuck, everyone in this wretched palace and surrounding city was. Red hot tears blurred her vision, and she almost ran into a side table holding a vase when an arm dashed out of a room and pulled her in.

”HEY-“ She yelled in protest, yet the words halted when her forehead hit against a familiar chest and her vision became all purple leather.

OH. She hadn’t expected to see him again so soon.

”Hey to yourself, Your Highness.” Rafayel’s voice was almost apprehensive as he secured the handle with chains to keep it closed. “Hope you don’t mind the interruption but I thought we might need to talk.”

”Yes, we do.” Clearing her throat and quickly wiping her eyes, she pulled out of his hold and walked further into the room with her chin high and arms crossed. It was an unused parlor, with white sheets over the furniture and curtains drawn to let in sparse light. “I am in a rather bad mood so let’s make this quick. Or are you distracting me again so someone else can be murdered?”

”That is not what happened last night!” He protested, but the Princess’ temper was already high so she snapped easily.

”So you can tell me it wasn’t a Lemurian who killed the cook?”

”I cannot, because it was.”

She hadn’t expected him to admit that so quickly.

”Well- for what reason then?”

”It’s complicated for humans to understand.” 

Arms crossed, she finally looked squarely at him.

”I would say our current relationship is complicated. Try me.”

His sigh was tired as he rubbed his forehead. Maybe he had slept as well as she did.

“Alright. I’ll tell you because I want Your Highness to understand why I had to leave.” The reminder made emotions immediately roil in her chest, but the next words out of Rafayel's mouth caused her whole world to halt. “There are two young girls in my care. One four and ten years and the other nine.”

Of all the things Her Highness had expected, that was not one of them. She blinked rapidly, processing the information that Rafayel was a guardian to children while he continued talking. 

“The youngest is Marietta. She’s lived a difficult life, even for a Lemurian because she is one of the last of us who is- I believe the humans use the term “purebred”.”

Her Highness had heard those words before, when she’d been handed Rafayel’s chain.

“It is rare nowadays for Lemurians to successfully have children with each other, because when the oceans still existed it was dictated by the moon controlling the tides when fertility was at its highest potential, but that connection is no more and so it’s a squandering chance for two Lemurians to produce a child. Most Lemurians have human ancestry because humans are…” Rafayel paused briefly. In that pause though, a million potential words flung through the Princess’ mind. “A species that relies heavily on repopulation.”

“You make us sound like rabbits…” Her Highness coughed, looking away to hide how her face burned. 

“Or gerbils.” She could hear the teasing grin in his voice, yet it quickly dropped back to serious. “Either way, a human involved is the easiest way for many magical species to carry on. Lemurians, Dragons, gods- no matter how many generations pass humanity never overtakes the essence of magic within blood. It is why slavers do not care if a Lemurian babe has been sired with a human. They’ll sell them all the same.”

This reality of the world they lived in made bile build in her throat, and she swallowed. 

“A child born to two Lemurians is treasured by us but seen as nothing but a chance at a higher price point for humans. Marietta’s first few years of life were in a dark cage trapped with her mother till she would be old enough to sell. I intercepted the caravan on the way to the auction, and her mother shoved her into my arms through the bars.” There was a far off look in his eye as he recalled the moment. Sorrow evident in his voice. “I couldn’t save them both.”

“Rafayel…” She stepped closer, but he kept looking at the grandfather clock between the windows. Draped like it was, it almost resembled a body covered in a funeral shroud.

“Her mother was sold to the head cook of the palace, and he murdered her a few months ago when she would not love him.”

“So Marietta…” 

Rafayel nodded. Regret creasing his brow.

“She was not supposed to leave the base last night, but when I heard the scream I just knew Algie snuck her out. I had to make sure they were not caught since they are my responsibility. Not to mention just children forced to live in a cruel world by circumstances they had no say in.”

A wave of foolishness coursed through Her Highness as she looked at Rafayel- handsome even in this dust dappled light and with tired eyes- who had weights on his shoulders she hadn’t even bothered to find out about. Even though she claimed he was her most important person she hadn’t cared enough to find out about him beyond what he does when she calls for him.

Too stuck in her own little bubble reflecting her own worries back at her to notice how many people Rafayel had to care for. She was a pampered princess who had never had to be beaten or starved like the Lemurians… people deprived of their very home in these twisted sands and forced to servitude by the people who took up the space they should freely roam.

 How many worshippers did he have in situations like Marietta, yet he still relented to her silly whims and requests when she called for him? He was truly a merciful god with more kindness in his heart than anyone else alive. More so than she for certain, with her supposed divine heart that humans worshipped because she merely existed. 

What right did she actually have to ask him to take her, she realized with widening eyes. What had she ever done to deserve the attention and devotion she’d pleaded of him?

  Her hand hovered near his cheek, and when he noticed her hesitation, he leaned into her palm.

“It’s unlike you to be left speechless, Your Highness.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all she could get out. And she was, for so many different things. 

For being just another burden on his shoulders. For being angry at him without waiting for him to explain like he said he would. For having thought she could be with anyone else.

“Why are you apologizing?” He asked, gently grabbing her arm to bring her closer. Hand sliding down to her laced wrist.

“I thought you abandoned me. I was so scared and angry that I convinced myself of it completely and I… almost accepted an arranged marriage.”

He was stunned for a moment, before his eyebrows lowered in urgency.

“Did you?”

“No. No I did not and I was a fool to ever think I could.” She must be a selfish person down to her very soul because even now she sought his embrace for comfort. He gave it to her. “No one is as good as you nor even close to as handsome. You were right to call them all villains.”

His laugh reverberated against her ear. Humorless.

“Good. If you had accepted a marriage I would have had to kill them.”

Her grip around his torso tightened. Her heart beat with a thrill at his words but her mind frowned.

”I’d rather you kill me so I would not have to live beneath the thumb of the King and Queen anymore.”

Rafayel’s breath caught in his throat and he stilled unnaturally till she could not even feel his breathing lift and lower his ribs against her cheek. 

Her Highness rested her chin on his left pec and peered up at him, surprised by the storm in his eyes as he looked out the window.

“Rafayel?”

He did not answer her just yet, and a hand moved to the back of her skull so he could position her gaze away from him. Right when her nose started to become cold from touching the cool zipper of his shirt, his mask pressed against her forehead.

“I have someplace I wish to take you, but the preparation will take a few weeks and the journey will be long.” 

Excitement thudded her heart against her ribcage in such a way he had to be able to hear it. 

“I can wait however long you need! Just… do not abandon me. That is all I ask.”

Rafayel’s finger hooked beneath her chin, and raised her gaze. Devotion she didn’t think she deserved was in his eyes replacing the wall that’d been there earlier.

“I promised I would come back for you all those years ago, Your Highness, and I will keep that promise as long as I have breath.”

Reaching up, she removed his mask. Swallowing hard as her lower lip trembled slightly at the overwhelming emotions coursing through her.

She felt immense love towards him. She felt hatred for herself. She felt anxiety that they would be torn apart. She felt a heart that was never her own for once aligned with her body in want, and she stood on her tiptoes. 

This kiss felt more like a first one than their actual one had. Tender and chaste and only lasting a moment.

“It’s unfair for you to be the only one with a promise, so I’ll make one too.” Both of her hands grasped the sides of his face, and she tried to convey how much she meant what she was about to say through her entire being. “I promise that I’ll become someone worthy of being by your side in these weeks.”

His throat bobbed.

“You don’t-”

“I do.” Her Highness cut him off, shaking her head. “A spoiled princess is not deserving to be with a god. I realize that now. If I want to leave the palace walls, I have to be prepared to be more than just a Princess.”

“If… that is your wish.” He brought her left hand up to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the knuckle of her ring finger. “As long as you stay your silly self at your core. I quite like you, ya know.”

With a giggle, Her Highness ignored the distant sounds of guards and maids calling for her, and let herself drown in Rafayel a moment longer before the door handle rattled and they had to separate.

“Your Highness?! Are you in there?!” Natasha yelled through the door. “Please come out and talk with Lord Dashing he wishes to apologize-”

Rafayel had stepped one foot back, looking around to sneak out yet at the name of the Duke he seemed to change his mind. A slight squeak erupted from the Princess as her walk towards the door was interrupted by an arm snatching her waist and bringing her against Rafayel’s firm frame.

“Don’t tell me that duke was the one you almost agreed to?” Rafayel’s low voice rumbled next to her ear. Bitter and possessive.

“I didn’t know he was a Lemurian trader at the time!” She hurried to explain, twisting her neck to look back at him. “Believe me; I wish I had something harder to throw at his face than just flowers.”

Rafayel’s eyebrow raised. 

“What did he do to get you so upset?” 

Natasha answered for her.

“Your Highness must understand that your feelings toward Lemurians are unique! He did not know you valued the Lemurian that was gifted to you but I explained it to him and now he’s willing to apologize. Please, Your Highness-”

“GO AWAY NATASHA!” Her Highness commanded, and her voice must have been filled with enough authority that she complied. A defeated huff followed by footsteps retreated from the door, signaling Natasha had left. 

 Rafayel pressed a kiss to Her Highness’ cheek. Bending her over slightly with the weight of him against her upper back.

”Cause of me, huh? I’m honored Princess.” The curve of his smile was gentle upon her skin as it gave another kiss to her increasingly warm ears. 

“Of course because of you.” Her fingers traced along the softness of his jaw with a slight pout. Savoring how it felt in ways she couldn’t the night before. “He dared insinuate that I had you killed, it was the most insulting thing I’ve ever been accused of!” 

A sharp intake of breath, before his voice against her ear was low and ticklish.

”I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be pleased that a stray mention of me is the only deterrent from you accepting a brutes hand. If I had not come up, would Your Highness have taken him?”

“... I wasn’t in my right mind.”  She muttered, embarrassed.

One of Rafayel’s hands rose from her waist. Leaving featherlight touches up to the bottom of her ribs where he splayed out his large hand against her stomach. Thumb grazing against the bottom swell of a breast through fabric.

“After finding this out, I am more inclined to hold you to your promise.” He confessed. “I asked you to be careful around him and this is what you do at the first opportunity? Tsk tsk, how could you, Your Highness?”

”I meant it when I said I was sorry and I need to do better.” Her cheek puffed out a little. “You should know though it’s incredibly difficult to have a clear thought when your mind is so distracted from-“ Realizing what she was about to say, she stuttered to a halt. “Er, nevermind. I’ll leave it at that.”

“Really? You’re not going to tell me what keeps you from having a clear head? I think that’d be rather useful information to have, don’t you?” Rafayel’s chin rested on her shoulder, gently swaying her back and forth. 

“It… it’s a rather human thing.” The Princess tried to brush aside, swallowing heavily. 

“Even more reason you should tell me. Humans think they have Lemurians all figured out yet we’re left clueless to humans. It’s unfair. Your Highness should rectify that as your first step in improving human and Lemurian relations.”

Her smaller fingers danced anxiously over Rafayel’s knuckles and wrist. Trying to think of how to say it without exactly saying it.

”It’s difficult to think well when you’re promised a breathtaking view yet right at the precipice of,” A swallow, and she tried to hide her face with her hair. “Pleasure, it’s taken away and you never reach the satisfaction of the journey. You’re just left with a trembling ache of what could have been…”

A beat passed.

”Do you want me to make it up to you?” Rafayel’s voice followed by his teeth grazing her ear was enough to make her knees weak. The hand that had been on her stomach moved to palm the weight of a breast. “I don’t want Your Highness to be left suffering.”

Living in the desert meant fabrics were often thin yet layered to help with cooling, so even through all she wore she could still feel the way his fingertips pressed in slightly to squeeze. It elicited a gasp and her eyelashes fluttered. Her neck stretched back, and taking the opportunity Rafayel dove in to press a trail of kisses along her jaw.

“They- they know I’m in here.” Her Highness reasoned. Catching the hand that was beginning to slide down her hip from wandering too far down. “I don’t want you to be caught, Rafayel.” 

His sigh was heavy, yet he eased his hand back down to her stomach.

”You are fulfilling your promise too fast. If you achieve your goals so soon you’ll have nothing to look forward to.”

”Of course I’ll have something to look forward to!” Turning her head, she nuzzled her nose affectionately against his. “You making it up to me~”

One last kiss (that lingered more than either of them should have allowed with the racket of guards approaching) before Rafayel released his hold on her and put his mask back over his smile.

“I’m going to go first, so all the attention is on me.” Her Highness decided as she made sure her clothes were in order. “Be safe, Rafayel.”

He nodded, unshackling the door and watching as she slipped out before slamming it closed loudly, alerting them that she left with a loud question.

“IS HE GONE YET OR DO I NEED TO MAKE MYSELF MORE CLEAR?!”

The way the castle staff moved around her yet never for her was evident as at once almost everyone ran from the room as a hoard. 

It made Rafayel chuckle, before it faded to quiet contemplation.

Elder Amund swore Her Highness was the reincarnation of the usurper who stole the Heart of the Sea God eons ago through trickery and deception, and the others believed him. Rafayel had believed him, once.

 Had allowed himself to get captured into slavery because he knew it would get him in front of her to begin a retaliation using the same methods the Elder’s swore had been used thirty thousand years ago…

It had been easy to believe it was right being forced to his knees and chain yanked so he would properly bow his head. Dressed in faux clothes of luxury that were nothing more than glorified wrapping paper with a bow on top presented to her as a rare pureblooded Lemurian who could sing and dance to her hearts fancy.

Rafayel had forced down a snarl. It was his heart, and he was going to get it back one day so these wretched sands would get flushed beneath waves and sea once more and all these humans would drown. Or he would burn them.

The spoiled Princess especially, who regarded him with wide innocent eyes sheltered in a palace of luxury while Lemurians suffered. His fingers twitched with the desire to carve into her chest and rip the still beating heart out of her, yet he could not be rash. 

This was a long game of deception and trickery. He had to earn her trust. Had to reach a point where she’d give the heart to him willingly.

It was off to a good start, he supposed, when she gestured to the spot next to her feet for him to sit. 

His disgust only increased as he watched every noble in the city bring forth their birthday present for her. Pointless displays of wealth that she barely even blinked at before she dismissed them to bring in the next person. He did pick up on patterns, however, as the hours went by.

Food seemed to be the number one interest for her. She’d perk up and actually listen if it was a dish she didn’t know of and she’d look like a kicked puppy when her Mother sent it away to be eaten later.

As well, cute animals made her smile and emit a loud squeal that could have made a person go deaf. It was odd, how she would get handed the animal, and then turn to him and present it. As if looking for his approval.

“Isn’t this cute? I think a cute dog like this deserves a name like… HMM… I don’t know many names actually… You’ve been outside the palace though, haven’t you!” She’d said with sudden enthusiasm, pressing the puppy towards him. “You can help me name it later then! That’d be fun.”

He doubted that would be fun, but the dog was cute, and was the only other thing in this room wearing a collar. He scratched behind its ears and shrugged.

That was enough for the Princess, and she put the puppy back in its basket and a maid carried it away.

That started the odd habit of her getting a gift, and then looking at him to see what he thought of it.

Most of the time he’d notice her gaze, and shrug. Not having an opinion on any of these that wouldn’t get his tongue cut off. But when he couldn’t contain the slight flinch when a cat was presented with a pretty bow around its neck, she noticed with a frown.

He thought he was about to get his first scolding, but instead:

“This can be your cat, Natasha.” The Princess hummed, and dumped the furball into the arms of her lady’s maid. “I want it to have enough attention so it will grow healthy, and with all the pets I have I don’t think I could. So consider this a make up for all your birthdays you haven’t let me get you a gift!”

As the maid fumbled through accepting it, Rafayel supposed he was one of those pets.

 Yet, the first thing her Highness did when night fell and she was allowed to return to her room (tugging Rafayel along with her), was unlock the shackles on his wrists and they clattered to the floor.

“What’s your name?” She’d asked, conversationally, as if her actions hadn’t completely gone against everything he had expected her to do. 

Where was the cruelty? She looked incapable of even hurting a fly as she flounced about in a dress that shaped her like a pastry.

But, reminded himself, he had to stay vigilant. Tricks would not work on him this time.

When he did not answer, she pouted.

“That’s okay I guess. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Names are important! That’s why I wasn’t given one.” She picked up a stuffed animal of a sand seal and held it aloft to the light. Fidgeting the flippers around so that it was waving. “At least, that’s what father tells me. He says if I had a name the commoners would use it to curse and be rude, and bad people would try and control me with it so… everyone just calls me Princess.” She sat down, crisscross, and sighed. Her voice getting quiet. “Having a name sounds nice though, which is why I want to make sure I name my new dog something fitting. Because if it doesn’t have a name, how would anyone really know it?” 

Rafayel still didn’t speak, but he sat down on the floor as well. She took that as a good sign, and kept talking. He was hardly listening, however. 

She was right, names held power, and that control you could have with a name was exactly why he was never going to give her his- but how could she not have one? Someone who’s very essence and soul had left an imprint on the Tome of the Sea God was just sitting in front of him with just a title to be called? Did the humans not hail her as their savior from death? Right now the festivals in the city were about to begin celebrating the birth of the Princess-

But did any of them actually care for her?

It was better this way, Rafayel had supposed. Would be easier to kill someone who is more concept than living.

The last question she asked him before she went to bed, was if he did have a name.

He nodded that he did, and she smiled brightly. 

“Kids who get names means their parents love them, so I’m glad you have a name! Though you’re probably very far away from your parents here…” She fell silent after that, and crawled into her bed and rolled away from him. “I’m sorry.”

That night, Rafayel had a dream that he knew as a memory as soon as he awoke.

He had been in Lemuria before the fall, had met a human girl when she’d been tossed into the ocean by humans, and- 

And he had fallen in love with her, and she with him.

He had stood in the halls of the Sacred Flame and asked her to be his devout follower. She replied with a tease about how asking for something so important would need something of equal value in return.

Rafayel had offered her his heart.

He woke up in a cold sweat and the realization that the Elders were wrong. The Princess was no thief, the heart had been given willingly.

His whole world felt like it had been tilted on its axis yet also he had never understood what he had to do so clearly as he did then.

An undertaking only he could shoulder.

All these years later, Rafayel stood in that empty parlor listening to Her Highness’ voice get farther and farther away, and he apologized for lying in his head.

The preparations for the trip would not take as long as he said, but there were other matters he had to be sure of before he went to Elder Amund and told him it was time. But also selfishness spurred the untruth.

For the Lemurians, they would think it a trip where at last the thief will be punished. 

For Her Highness it will be a journey of starting anew.

But for Rafayel… it will be a farewell.

Closing his eyes, he placed his hand over the cavity where his heart should be:

“Six weeks. Stay mine for six weeks more, my beloved bride.”

====

There was tension in the palace the next few days, though over what Her Highness had no idea. 

Sure, the Queen had been furious that she refused to even consider Lord Dashing anymore, but the Queen was always mad at her for something or another so that couldn’t be why staff were skirting around corners like frightened mice.

Whatever the cause was, Her Highness decided to take advantage of the distracted state of the castle

It was perfect to claim she needed a private concert to soothe her nerves, and she was guided to the locked room where the Lemurian singer she’d promised Rafayel she’d help free was living without question. 

It was so easy to demand the guards turn their backs, and though the woman could barely contain her scowl at the very sight of the Princess, she relented to sit across from her.

”Does Your Highness have a specific request in mind?” The woman asked, voice carefully even tempered.

”Hm, something… calming.”

With a nod and straightening of posture, humming began as she set the tempo for herself before words flowed out more beautiful than any bird.

 As the song went on, and Her Highness was sure everyone was distracted, she slipped the Fishtail beacon out from her dress and held it tightly in her hands as out of sight as she could.

The Lemurian noticed, however, and her eyes widened while catching on a word. Quickly recovering, she now watched as the beacon glowed a soft purple in the Princess’ hands with a confused divet in her brow. 

Satisfied that Rafayel now knew where the songstress was being imprisoned, Her Highness hid the beacon once more and settled herself to fully enjoy the song. Closing her eyes and swaying a little from side to side.

 When it ended, the Princess declared she was pleased, and left.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

At the break of dawn a day later, the Lemurian singer was gone.

It was the catalyst in the most unsuspecting way.

That afternoon the King summoned Her Highness to his study. His face grim.

”It should never have come to this but the Lemurian rebels have forced my hand.” He began with a sigh as he stood and strode to a tall window. Hands clasped behind his back as he looked out. “I’ve kept you here, in this palace, to keep you safe. Protected from the vermin out there who’d take advantage of your miracle heart. However, it’s become more and more apparent that these walls are no longer safe. Over the past few months three nobles have been assassinated, and just this last week the Head Cook was murdered a stones throw away from your bedchambers. The Lemurian Rebels are getting bolder, and they will one day come for you. I know it. They’ll expect you here, however, so… the Queen has convinced me to allow you to leave the Palace.”

Leaping out of her seat, Her Highness was sure she was dreaming. There was no way this was real. Yet all she could do was stare in utter shock as the King continued.

”I’m sending you to stay at the Duke of Third River’s manor.”

The excitement and hope that had surged forward immediately was replaced by dread. No, the Duke of Third River? that was-

“Lord Dashing?!” Her Highness could not hide her contempt. “Why him of all people?”

”Because this is a trial run for him to prove he’s worthy of my approval.” 

Her blood ran cold.

”You cannot mean approval of marriage?!” She rushed to grasp his sleeve. “Father tell me it’s not!” 

“That is exactly what I mean.” The King did not even try to be reassuring in his tone, nor did he even bother to look at her. “He has asked me directly for your hand, and after much consideration I’ve concluded he might be worthy enough to marry you, the Princess of our Kingdom.”

”But-“ Her Highness was aghast and speechless. Floundering to try and form a coherent sentence through her shell shock. 

“Nothing you say will change my mind for me and the Queen are in united agreement. You’ll leave before nightfall, for I fear the Lemurians might strike under the cover of darkness. Natasha has already packed your things. Guards, escort her to the carriage.”

”Wait- but I need-“

He wasn’t listening, turning now to pick up papers off his desk as guards flanked either side of her and lifted her by the arms. Carrying her all the way as she kicked and protested with increased intensity and fear.

She did not have the Fishtail Beacon with her. 

Natasha was waiting for her by the wheel of a carriage Her Highness had used to dream of being able to ride, but now she didn’t even want to see it. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. She was being physically forced to go to Lord Dashing and Natasha could only look a little sheepish.

”I was ordered not to tell Your Highness, in case you tried to escape.” The maid explained, and her Highness scoffed as she was finally set down. Wrenching her arms free and sending the guards a searing glare.

”Because I’m supposed to allow myself be kidnapped willingly?!” 

“It is not a kidnapping, it is Lord Dashing’s apology! I told him that the highest likelihood of you forgiving him was if he was able to fulfill your deepest wish, which has always been to leave the palace. Is it not romantic that he’d fight so hard to gift you this?”

No. No it was not romantic.

Romantic was Rafayel always offering his hand before guiding her to the balcony to escape. Romantic was how he’d always rub his thumb- fleetingly yet firm- overtop her knuckles before securing the grip more tight. Romantic was how Rafayel said her title like he was actually speaking to her and not just the concept of her existence.

Beneath the dark edges of his persona she’d seen the cracks revealing the inherent romanticism of Rafayel that he had to suppress in the reality of a dangerous life. Had felt it in the way he held her. Kissed her.

For Natasha to even compare Lord Dashing’s behavior to him was infuriating. Insulting. A deepest betrayal!

“I don’t want to hear another word out of you.” She snapped at the maid as hands tried to encourage her into the carriage but she braced herself against the doorframe to prevent them. That only made their attempts more forceful, and with enough shoves they eventually got her to topple in and hurriedly closed the door behind her. Sealing her into darkness with only a glimmer of light.

The birdcage was not enough, it seemed. They now were transferring her like a prisoner and she didn’t even have the fishtail beacon to tell Rafayel where she was. 

They- they were not going to marry her this weekend, right? 

No, father had said this was a trial. Which meant there would be time after this to tell Rafayel. There was also time to do as much as she could to get Lord Dashing to not want to marry her anymore. Stubbornness was a trait of hers that she could wield like a weapon and make herself insufferable.

As she sat, stewing in her frustration, she realized that here she was. Leaving the palace at the command of her father like she had begged for her entire life yet she couldn’t even be happy about it because it wasn’t a sign of freedom. It was just another corral to force her like cattle into the way of life they wanted. Another way for her to be the Princess and not the person.

She could hear commotion of people talking as her carriage went past. People of the city wondering who was in the royal carriage perhaps? But there was not enough space to look out and see what kind of streets she was passing. Though- she was hearing another large gate clanking as it rose, meaning she was only now leaving the palace? 

That would make sense, yet another two gates passed before the talking increased ten fold and now calls of merchants drafted through the air which had to FINALLY mean they were really out of the palace.

She wished she could see the path they were taking, but when at last the carriage came to a stop she knew it would be within another set of walls.

====

”Your Highness, it is my deepest pleasure to welcome you to my home!”

Lord Dashing greeted as a footman opened the door. Hand outstretched to help her out the carriage yet moments ticked passed and she sat stockstill. Arms folded in defiance and staring straight ahead as if she had not heard him.

There was a hint of annoyance in his sigh.

“You’re still mad at me I see. I’d been rather hopeful that your Lady maid had been right that bringing you here would cause your forgiveness but… that is a matter I feel no rush in absolving.” Grabbing one of her hands, he pulled Her Highness out of the carriage with a heavy yank. She had no choice but to fling her hands out to balance on his chest and he looked down at her triumphant in his smile. “Supper is upon us, Your Highness. I’d be honored if you joined me.”

The only choice she had in all this was to hold her tongue, and so she did.

She didn’t respond to a single thing he said over dinner, and rebuffed all attempts at conversation during a brief stroll with him through a courtyard. 

By the end of the day, her jaw was tense from how hard she’d been clenching it, though she could not fully rest till Natasha had left her as well.

She felt tired, yet it  was too odd laying in an unfamiliar bed to fall asleep. Tossing and turning didn’t help because the pillows were uncomfortably soft with no support, and the silk bed sheets slid off her body at the smallest movement.

There was no moon to tell her what time it was, but her eyes had long adjusted to the darkness. When she sat up she could move around the bedroom without bumping into anything.

 She slowly opened the door and stepped out into the sitting room attached. Her best way of telling how much time had passed was by listening to the voices of the guards stationed outside in the hallway, and sure enough it was a different pair then who had been there when she’d first been led here and locked in.

The guards were talking of how Lord Dashing had been terse by the end of the day. Displeased that he hadn’t yet won her over. The Princess was very pleased about that and with herself for staying strong in her convictions, and she stepped away from the doors to not alert them she was nearby. Looking around at all the shadows around her.

Part of what made these bedchambers so unrestful was the stiff air and scent of cleaning products, so she went to a window and unlatched it open a touch. Just enough to let the wind cycle in some freshness.

There was a chaise lounge nearby, and she settled herself on it and stared up at the night sky. 

Usually, on nights like this where sleep evaded her, she’d reach beneath the pillow for the Fishtail beacon and call Rafayel to her and ask for a story to aid her in reaching slumber. But here, she had no beacon for Rafayel to find her.

Sighing she slid down the chaise with her arm above her head and closed her eyes.

Frustration was quickly descending into sadness now that she was alone. 

  Years of thinking Natasha was a friend who cared for her, yet she was really beginning to question if it was true.

How could an actual friend keep insisting that Lord Dashing was romantic when this whole visit was a charade to show he was just as capable of locking up the Princess as her parents? 

The signs of it were everywhere, even in this very room. 

Hidden as decorations were bars across the windows that she could not slip through, and the locks had been reversed so the outside controlled whether she stayed in or not. 

It was not surprising that a man who made his money off the slave trade was good at making inescapable cages, but it still was terrifying to be in one.

Terrifying still was how Her Highness foresaw the ending of this trip being pleasing to the King. He’d approve of Lord Dashing’s methods for sure. The way he prettied up his security so that it befitted a princess to outsiders who ooh and awe at the very idea of her existence, yet it would not allow for any behavior that the King had always thought uncouth.

Would this be her future if she married him?

She certainly feared it would. 

Every piece of furniture had a place on it for a chain to attach a shackle, and if she disobeyed him too much would he find it necessary to put one on her?

 Would he clamp her ankle every night to make her sleep in the same bed as him?  She could see it in the way his eyes drifted that he was considering it even now. He’d said it did not matter if she would not speak to him, for her presence was all he needed, and there was no doubt he had been telling the truth. 

He’d care not if she bit off her own tongue because she could still be dressed up and displayed as an achievement on his arm to balls and tea.

And Natasha still thought it all romantic.

The maid came in early the next morning to find Her Highness still on the chaise, and she sang the praises of how good of a match Lord Dashing was as she hurried to get the Princess dressed for breakfast.

Her approval only grew when Lord Dashing had quite the itinerary for the first day.

A morning walk in the garden where he talked about his upcoming plans and the Princess easily ignored him as her focus stayed on the winding water of the Third River that cut through multiple points of his estate. 

She was just considering if jumping into it would alert Rafayel that she was here when the Duke’s voice cut through her musings.

”Though of course I had to decline King Lightwood’s invitation because our honeymoon will be happening at that time.”

Natasha, walking a few steps back, could not help but giggle in delight at the thought while Her Highness gave him a pointed scowl, yet held her tongue from snapping at him for he would consider it a victory if she talked to him at any point during this stay.

”Hehe, you’re very cute when you’re being difficult, Your Highness.” 

Oh, she wanted to punch him for how pleased with himself he sounded but instead she clenched her fists and returned her gaze back to the river.

She needed to just grit her teeth and get through this so she could get back to the palace. To her Rafayel. 

She could endure anything as long as at the end of it she could put her arms around Rafayel and complain of it as he held her.

She was going to have a hefty list of complaints indeed, for after the garden, Lord Dashing fancied tea and grabbed her hand and would not let go the whole march to the gazebo. His hands on her shoulders forced her to sit, and then he took the seat across from her as if he had done nothing.

“I’ve been told this tea is your favorite. As expected, an exquisite woman has matching tastes!” He tried to honey it on as a maid poured the tea, and a waft of the blend reached Her Highness’ nose.

Immediately, she scoffed, turning as much of her as she could in her seat away from him.

The Queen’s favorite tea, of course.

She might have known that woman had everything to do with this but that only confirmed it. That woman either loved nothing more than to pretend the Princess was a replica of herself or simply could not care enough to remember what anyone but herself liked.

The good thing about the gazebo she was now stuck in, was that it was over the water. 

The bad thing about the gazebo, was there was nowhere to escape Lord Dashing.

“You know Your Highness…I must tell you that I’ve had feelings for you for quite some time.” Lord Dashing said as he lowered his teacup. “When we were children I would get giddy at the very thought of seeing you. You were always so far away, however. Always standing so beautiful out of reach. But now, at last, you’re within grasp.”

Her Highness lurched back as his fingers suddenly grazed her cheek. She pressed up fully against the back of the chair as she looked at him astounded that he would have the nerve-

As usual, he found her contempt for him amusing, and he smiled wickedly. 

“It’s never been fair that you’ve been forced to stay within the palace. Your existence is a miracle that everyone should be able to witness so they know exactly who they’re thanking their eternal life for. Foreign emissaries don’t even believe you exist. The Princess of the desert is just a lie the Kingdom made up to make ourselves seem grander than we actually are… but, when we marry, I can prove them all wrong.”

His face shifted from amusement to an almost crazed stare.

“You’d like that too, wouldn’t you? To marry me and end all the rumors and falsehoods that circulate you?” Lord Dashing stood. His body blocking out the sun as his shadow completely covered her. “After our vows, there will be a parade that will take us through the entire city. Calming the fear of those who think their life could end and convincing those who dare claim you are not divine that you are.”

He was leaning over her now, and her knuckles clung to the armrests so hard they were white and her nails scratched the paint off the wood. She tried to look away and push him off but one hand clamped down on her shoulder to keep her from getting up, and the other grabbed her chin to look at him.

“In my travels to other kingdoms I’ve realized how close sighted everyone is with the potential of what you could do. Why is the limit natural causes? Ever since my father and brother were murdered I’ve wondered if it is within your power to grant someone complete and everlasting immortality… but something as special as that could not be given to anyone. No, your heart would only grant such a thing to the one you love. I will become that person you hold so dear that you can’t stand the thought of me dying!”

Fear was starting to overcome the anger, and Her Highness brought her hands to try and claw his grip off of her- but it only made him tighten his hold, and grab the side of her head to keep her from flinching away as he kissed her cheek.

If he had something else to say as a part of his grand monologue she did not give him the time.

She felt like a caged animal scratching and pushing to free herself- drawing blood from his hand as her nails raked across the back and she hit him in any place she could reach till at last she was able to get out of her chair and stumble to grab hold of the railing. 

Her mind was reeling to try and figure out how to escape from this. How to get away from Lord Dash who was standing between her and the exit.

“Tch. The more you try to resist the harder your future will be.” The table was knocked to the side and Natasha’s scream mixed with the sound of the tea set shattering. The Duke’s shoe slammed into the puddle of tea as he advanced towards the Princess. “I’m the best option you have, and it’s about time you stop being difficult and agree, Your High-”

A blade of a dagger pierced through the hand Lord Dashing had reached out towards her, causing him to stumble back and slip on the mess he’d made.

Amongst the spurts of his blood, Her Highness’ hope soared.

She knew that dagger.

“Rafayel!” Her throat was hoarse from lack of use as the name tore out of her. Hurrying to her feet and looking down into the river. There was a split second where she wondered whether she should wait for Rafayel to come to her-

But that was the stupidest thought she’d ever had, so with the strength of adrenaline she hoisted herself up and over the railing and down into the cold water below before anyone could say her title.

====

Her Highness was cold, wet, and incapable of getting two steps behind Rafayel as they weaved through a busy street of the city. No one spared them a glance as her dress was hidden beneath a large cloak, but the adrenaline had long faded and now anxiety clutched at her heart and the only lifeline she had that she was truly away from the Duke was Rafayel beside her with a hand on the small of her back.

Rafayel led her to a door made of untreated wooden planks, took her up a flight of stairs that creaked beneath her feet, and did some sort of magic to unlock an otherwise unsuspecting entrance.

Urging her inside, he did one last scan behind them before closing the door and redoing the magic lock.

Her Highness lowered the hood of the cloak as she took in the place she’d been brought.

There weren't many personal touches, but a trunk was open against one wall revealing purple leather, bandages, and an assortment of fish like trinkets that looked like children had made them. 

She barely had time to process this was Rafayel’s apartment before she was being turned around and wrapped in a tight embrace.

“Are you hurt?” Rafayel asked, voice extra muffled against her hair.

“No. Just… scared.” Her Highness admitted as tears pricked at her eyes. Everything she had experienced in the last twenty four hours was crashing down on her and she felt exhaustion take her legs out from under her. Rafayel didn’t let her fall. “Tired too. I couldn’t sleep at all last night. Oh, Rafayel it’s been awful!”

“You can rest soon, but first you need to dry off lest you catch a cold.” There was a tenderness to Rafayel’s voice and touch as he carried her to a stool and knelt down to take off her shoes. A thumb pressed into the sole of her foot and an appreciative hum was his reward for easing the tense muscle.

“Rafayel…” She breathily said his name out of sheer want to have it roll off her tongue and have his eyes flicker to her. 

While waiting for her to tell why she had called him, his hands gathered her skirt to her knees and it made her hyper aware of her stockings and how they clung frigid to the skin. Though whether she shivered from the cold or Rafayel’s fingertips sliding under the skirt edge she did not know. 

The palm followed the fingers to press against the see through white stockings as his large hands traveled up either side of her thigh. 

(Leaning her hands on the edge of the stool, Her Highness immediately thought of her dreams and they way the ocean would caress her)

 Rafayel’s destination was found not at the apex of her thighs like Her Highness had hoped, but at the garter securing the stockings. One hand took the garter while the other was close behind to roll the sock down and off. When that leg was free, she slightly lifted the other one to beckon him do the same, and he did not need to be asked twice.

Her legs now bare, a kiss was pressed to the indentation left by a heel strap around an ankle before he stood.

“I don’t have any clothes that will fit you on hand.” Rafayel went to the trunk, rummaging around before pulling out a simple linen shirt. “This should be comfortable enough, however.”

Her heart beat quicken as she fumbled with the ties of the cloak. It fell to the ground as Rafayel placed the shirt on the table beside her. 

“I cannot undo the corset myself.” The Princess confessed, drawing her hair away from the ribbons in the back. “Help me?”

”Who else would?”  It was a statement of fact for there was no one else here, and she’d have it no other way.

With great dexterity he began untying and loosening, and Her Highness removed all her rings and bracelets from her person to the table. They did not talk; the room was only the sound of metal hitting metal and the occasional snap when he pulled a ribbon through quick. His progress was evident as her sleeves slid more and more down her shoulder till they collapsed to her elbows and this time it was chill that made her shake.

A towel draped over her head, and Her Highness closed her eyes and leaned backwards slightly as Rafayel began drying her hair. Tousling it from side to side while using his control over flames to seep warmth down into her scalp.

“Mm~ Rafayel,” She spoke after an apprentice hum. “How did you know where to find me?”

The towel fell to her shoulders, and his thumb pressed lightly into a tension knot at the base of her neck and rubbed careful circles into it with his heated fingers.

“You called for me, didn’t you?” 

“I did.” She admitted with no shame. “I wanted you to rescue me so desperately I almost threw jewelry into the river in the rare chance it would catch your attention. But selfishly I delight in your ability to always find me, so I don’t regret not losing my favorite ring.”

”Why your favorite?” He asked.

”I thought offerings to a god needed to be something important, no?”

A humor filled puff of air left his nose, but he didn’t dispute it.

“Hardly the practice anymore but I accept the olden ways when it’s the right person.”

 His ability to release tension in her shoulders felt like something that should be worshipped, and she was lost for a moment in the relief and pleasure of his hands.

 “Mmmm~ maybe I should expand your title to include master masseuse.”

“I have a title? Am I the last to know?”

With a curling smile, the crown of her head bumped against his chest so she could properly look up at him.

“Rafayel, you are the most important person to me, the only god I believe in, and the man who I’m in love with. Does that not deem itself worthy of a title?”

It was mesmerizing. The slight catch of his breath and the widening of pupils as his hand raised to cover the parts of him that shone the most beautiful shades of pink from her view.

“You shouldn't say such things so casually, Your Highness.”

“It's not casually. It's with my whole heart, mind, and soul.” Her Highness hooked a finger through one of his collars and yanked him down so their noses brushed. “I realized an undeniable truth about myself these last two days… I do not care where I go, as long as you're with me.”

Her words coursed through him like water from a broken dam and she watched the multitude of emotions fight for centerstage in only his eyes and brow. When he was like this, he was rather like the different kinds of ocean she saw in her dreams.

After a moment, she laughed.

“You'll make me feel embarrassed about my love confession if you keep your eyebrows tightly notched like that, Rafayel!” Pressing a quick kiss to the spot right above his nose and between the brows, Her Highness stood. Letting her dress fall completely off of her so she was just in her chemise. The white cotton soaked so thoroughly that it was transparent at the parts where it clung to her. “I really don't want to catch a cold though so I'm going to change now and then collapse into a deep slumber!”

 “I’ll leave you to it.” He made his way to the door. His ear still pink despite how he kept his voice even keeled. “You need clothes for tomorrow and my spares will not do. The wards will keep you protected while I’m gone, and I’ll be back before nightfall.”

With Rafayel gone, Her Highness felt a little more open to bring his shirt up to her face and give it a hopeful sniff.

It smelled like him, and it helped her drift off once she was curled up on the thin mattress. Even though this was the first time she’d ever slept in a place not within the palace, she felt content to do so because Rafayel was her safety.

She truly could go anywhere as long as he was beside her.

Time had passed enough for the room to be cast in orange when Her Highness was brought from her deep sleep by the mattress indenting beside her as Rafayel sat. 

The calloused, bare skin of his fingers trailing up her arm.

“Change of plans, Your Highness. The journey I wish to take you will begin in the morning.”

”Okay…” She agreed blissfully. Not opening her eyes as she grabbed his wandering hand.

She dozed off content and of the clearest mind she'd ever had. Holding Rafayel's hand tightly against her forehead as the world faded into dark…

====

Her Highness woke up disoriented and confused. The culprit for her early morning the sun streaming through the Palace windows directly onto her face. 

She rolled from her side onto her back. Blinking up at the draped fabric framing her four poster. 

Had she… been dreaming? 

No, there had been no dream.

Why that felt so disorienting to her she had no idea. She'd never been one for frequent dreams, had she? 

She didn't know.

Getting out of bed was a sluggish affair that took a few minutes, and as soon as she stood she regretted it. 

Tiredness was her constant companion, the truest one she’d ever had these eighteen years. 

Her feet moved on their own as her mind numbly buzzed around in her skull.  She blinked, and she found her hand moving up and down to scatter fish food into the large tank.

She forgot what she kept in there, but she'd seen flashes of movement among the crevices of rock and wood occasionally, so whatever it was, it still lived. So, she kept feeding it.

There was a geode in one corner of the tank that caught her eye as she set the container of fish food down. 

A grimace briefly pulled on her lip remembering the suitor who had given it to her, but any contempt drained out of her to be replaced with the murky waters of indifference.

None of them mattered anyway.

Today was her wedding with Lord Dashing, wasn’t it?

Right. Yes, that was why she'd forced herself out of bed, because Natasha wanted to elaborately do up her hair and make up before they left for the temple.

Having no motivation or strength to do anything else, Her Highness sat at the vanity and waited for Natasha to arrive.

When she did, she seemed shocked to find the Princess still in the room. 

“OH! Goodness, I'm glad to see you did not try and escape Your Highness…” Her tone of voice gave way to worry.

“Why… Would I do that?” 

Natasha’s fingers on the case she was carrying grew white. 

“Because you've always- Never mind.” Natasha cleared her throat. “It doesn't matter. Let us get you ready for the ceremony.”

Blink.

Her hair was brushed.

Blink.

It was being pinned into a bun.

Blink.

Strands were curled and Natasha was carefully framing them around her face.

Blink.

Her face was covered in make up.

Blink.

She was standing, wearing an elaborate white gown trimmed with floral lace, and Natasha was circling around her pulling the edges of the skirt out so it was at proper fullness. 

Natasha stepped back to observe all she had done, but there was a notch of concern in her brow that she covered up with a smile that was genuine.

“You look like the most beautiful bride, Your Highness.”

Bride?

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

She was still standing in the same spot she'd been before. In front of the large floor to ceiling mirror, yet she felt awake for the first time even though the clock on the wall told her she'd been up for hours.

 “Bride?” 

It did not sound right whispered from her own lips. No, her voice was too high and sore from lack of use to be what she was looking for but- but she was looking for something.

“Bride.” She said it louder this time. “I'm… someone's bride.”

“... That's right, Your Highness. You're to wed the Duke of the Third River today.” Natasha did not sound convinced of her own words.

“No.” The certainty in Her Highness’ voice shocked her. “Not Lord Dashing's.” 

A flicker of blue in the fish tank caught her eye in the mirror, and she turned and moved past Natasha to stand in front of it and gaze at the blue fish as it swam out from its hiding spot. It was looking directly at her.

“Natasha… who gave me this fish?”

“Why, your most important person, Your Highness.”

Her heart was beating fast as if confirming Natasha's words to be true.

“But, why do I not remember who that is?” 

“I don't know, Your Highness. You… have not been well these past few weeks. Perhaps I should get a doctor?”

Her Highness had stopped listening. Bending down eye level with the fish, she could faintly see her reflection looking back at her. 

She loved this fish. Memories were coming back to her of all the mornings spent talking to it like it was her closest friend. Memories from back when she was a child to just two months ago. 

She’d said something to it… about dancing?

 There was someone she'd wanted to dance with. A figure in her minds eye that was shrouded in shadow cast by a large, flickering flame. Featureless and out of reach.

Was he her most important person?

“Ah, that knock must be the head maid and guards. I'll… Tell them to wait a few more minutes, but then it will be time to leave.” Natasha left.

Her Highness wanted to meet this important person. So badly, her heart HURT. 

Physically hurt. 

A burst of searing pain hit throughout her entire body with a jolt, and she lost balance and collapsed to the floor.

 A hand flew to her chest to clutch at the center point of these pulses, and she stagger crawled to the comfort of her bed. Hauling herself up by clawing at the sheets and shifting the entire bedding around by the time she managed to get to her feet.

Her vision was blurred and her breath ragged, and blindly she felt around for something her mind didn't know but her heart did.

Fingers wrapped around something cold, and the pain eased to just a dull throb.

Blinking into focus was an odd object that'd been hidden beneath the mountain of pillows yet revealed by her unceremonious disruption of the bedding.

 It reminded her almost of a hairpin, the way one end was dull and pointed while the other was decorated in the shape of a fishtail. 

Walking back to the mirror, Her Highness slipped it into her hair amongst the flowers Natasha had decorated her bun with. Tucked where it was, it was disguised as purple leaves to a rose.

That felt right. She should never lose this, and she felt a brief bite of frustration that she'd forgotten it.

“It's time, Your Highness.”

Natasha opened the bedroom door, looking solemn, and this time… Her Highness felt the same way.

====

In the carriage to the temple, Her Highness tried to take advantage of the lonely ride to remember SOMETHING about her most important person, yet there were only 2 things she knew for sure by the time the horses stopped:

She did not feel whole without him

The more she tried and could not remember, the fiercer and more frequent the pain in her heart became

It almost took her to the floor as she exited the carriage, but many hands caught her.

A chorus of voices asked her if she was alright.

“My- my heart…” She gasped out, sweat pearling from her forehead. “It hurts-”

Silence. 

Not a single person breathed as she was half carried inside, yet soon the worried whispers started.

Blink.

She was sitting down in front of a large mirror in the bridal suite of the temple, and the head maid was requesting the King and Queen be summoned at once.

“I do not think that would be wise! Their presence might even make it worse and- and what if her heart gives out??” 

Natasha.

She knew who her most important was, and the realization gave Her Highness renewed strength as she whipped around and grabbed Natasha's wrist.

“Tell me!” Desperation and pain oozed from her words. “Tell me who my most important person is Natasha PLEASE!”

Confused, Natasha stuttered.

“It- it Is the Lemurian you were gifted for your birthday many years ago. He had purple hair, I believe? I’m not sure you released him the next day so I did not have much time with him. But as thanks for your kindness he gave you your fish. Why are you asking me though? Surely you remember him much better than I do for isn't he the one who's been sneaking you out of the palace?”

The silhouette in her mind gained purple hair and the pose stopped being lifeless as a hand lifted- beckoning her to take it like he was escorting her somewhere.

“Purple Haired lemurian?!” The head maid gasped. “Is that not the description of the Rebel Lemurian's leader? It was him who assassinated a Baron of the Seventh River last week.”

Natasha was now being interrogated by everyone as more and more people filtered into the room and picked up on the conversation. The head of the church themself arrived out of concern of the news that the eternal heart was hurting, yet Her Highness tuned out them all.

She could feel leather gloves beneath her fingers as she accepted the silhouettes hand. A dagger was put on his hip, as that was the weapon of an assassin, and his face was half hidden by a hood and mask. 

She knew the curves and dents on the mask. Remembered them against her lips.

His chest was firm and sturdy, and she'd pressed both palms against it a few weeks ago in a tent in the desert. She’d straddled him, and her thighs were indented by belts and zippers. 

She had known his name then. Had said it in a begging tone as she told him she was cold. That she wanted to be warm.

She'd been so warm when their bare skin pressed together in sweat and passion. He had a beauty mark on his left pec and she'd worshipped kisses against it as she had no strength anymore to match his thrusts, but she needed him to know she loved it. Loved how he felt inside her throbbing and large-

His shuddering breath and pants had been directly beside her right ear when he finished. 

In the present, her hand moved to press against the lower part of her stomach, currently covered with the maiden white of her wedding gown, and she leaned closer to the mirror. Staring into her own eyes to try and see if his complete form was in them.

Eyes.

His eyes looked down at her with amusement as she complained she was too sore to walk. The firelight he'd summoned making the pool of pink in the blue stand out.

The most gorgeous mix of colors she'd ever seen. How did she forget them?

Why had they been in the desert? 

He… he had needed to show her something. He was taking her someplace. 

Yet… she had already known it. Clarity coursed through her mind at seeing- seeing something and she had known where to go. Known how to find something.

A black flame was in the palm of his hand. Her own blood had brought life back to it for but a moment.

Her most important person needed to kill her to save his people. 

Yet- yet here she was in the temple. Alive and breathing (though for how long with the way her heart was, she didn't know). He hadn't killed her.

His whole face was suddenly complete and colorized in her mind. Full of sorrow as at last his voice completed the physical image of him.

“Goodbye, my beloved bride.”

Her Highness stood up with such force her chair clattered to the floor.

“Rafayel.” She turned, looking now at all the people who had gathered as they stood silent and confused. “I need to find Rafayel!”

“But Your Highness-” The Archbishop stepped in front of her. “The wedding is-”

“I'll die.” She cut him off. Chest heaving with pain and certainty. “If I am not with the one I love my heart will not last another year.” 

Gaping in shock, the archbishop seemed, for the first time, to look at her fully.

He took in her sickly features, and thought about how he had woken this morning to his bones aching in ways they hadn’t since she’d become princess. His wife as well hadn’t been able to get out of bed for her coughing was so fierce…

“Your words are true.” The Archbishop realized, and a gasp carried through the room. “So our Kingdom will not fall, Her Highness must not marry Lord Dashing!” 

“I- I must alert the queen of this at once!” The Head maid ran out.

”Who is it? Who does Her Highness need to marry, then?”

A voice called.

”The Lemurian Rafayel?” Another guessed.

”YES!” Her Highness yelled, turning to that person with urgency. “I need to find him. Where is he?”

”The Lemurians base was found last night.” The Archbishop told her. “They’re probably fleeing the city as we speak but- but if it is so my wife will not die I will pardon all of their crimes in the eyes of the church!”

”My mother- she’s sick- will she die if Her Highness does not find this Lemurian?!”

”Wait- if Her Highness marries a Lemurian leader does that not mean a Lemurian will be king?! I-I’m going to free the Lemurians I own right now!!”

”Someone go lock Lord Dashing in his room so he does no interfere!”

”GUARDS! ALERT EVERYONE THE KILL ORDER IS REVOKED AND NO LEMURIAN WILL BE HARMED TILL HER HIGHNESS FINDS HER LOVE!”

The voices were all too much and not important, yet they followed her as she ran out onto the steps of the temple. 

Up on its raised dias, the temple overlooked the entire city and palace and she felt hopeless to find him in all the streets and buildings below her. 

She looked left, then right, then left again as she took the steps two at a time till she reached the bottom.

How did she summon him before? She would do SOMETHING that would bring him to her but what?!

Her hand flew up and her bun fell out of place as she pulled the fishtail beacon free and held it in her hand.

Behind her, the King and Queen’s voices were shouting, arguing with the Archbishop and nobles but Her Highness couldn’t care less. 

She took off running. 

She ran and ran. Not noticing her left hand bleeding from how tightly she was holding the beacon. Her heart was thumping loudly in her ears, guiding her with relief and jolts of pain through paths she’d never taken before till she reached the gates separating the palace from the city.

”OPEN THE GATES!”

”LET HER HIGHNESS THROUGH!”

”DON’T STOP HER!”

People were still following her, shouting orders to the guards who scrambled to raise the gates.

The sun was almost at high noon, yet the closer and closer Her Highness got to the outskirts of the city the better she felt. More alive. 

She hadn’t realized how deprived of energy she’d been. How her body was slowly edging towards eternal slumber till now that it was back to its usual vibrancy.

There was a group gathered near one of the city exits, and Her Highness recognized the style of their clothes.

A ripple of shock coursed through them as she pushed through, though they were much more concerned about the group behind her to pay the bride in white clutching a blood covered fishtail beacon more than a passing glance.

She could see him. Standing in the sands next to a camel and the Elder who for once was not scowling at her. 

Rafayel was there, staring at her too shocked to even move till she collided into him. Leaping into his arms knowing he'd catch her. And he did. The momentum shifting him back a few steps and turning them a half circle till he balanced and her feet were back on the sand.

“Your Highness, how-”

“HOW DARE YOU!” Her bloody fist hit his chest as she looked up at him. Eyes welling with all the emotions she had tempesting inside of her. “Our bond is eternal; Our vows everlasting. How dare you try and sever them! I am your devout follower yet you- you abandoned me to be someone else's bride!?” 

The tears began falling, and his face became blurry but his grip on her waist tightened. His breath sucking into his lungs sharply. 

“I am yours Rafayel. Whether the Tome of the Sea God says it or not!” His hand curled around her trembling fist clenching the beacon. His forehead resting against hers and she closed her eyes. There was no pain. Her heart was unnoticeable and beating as it should again. “I'm either your bride or no one's. I'm by your side or dead.”

She nuzzled her nose against the stiff leather of his mask.

“Please. Please don’t sacrifice us.”

He let go of her hand, and pushed her back by the shoulders.

She tensed, preparing for her heart to crumble at his next words and she stared down at the blossoms of crimson on her gown. Her tears staining the golden sand.

“Our bond is eternal; Our vows everlasting.” Rafayel's voice was devoted and clear as he grabbed her left hand and brought it to press against his chest. “I'm either by your side or dead... What kind of god would I be if I denied such a heartfelt prayer from my Beloved Bride?”

“A cruel one.” Her Highness sniffed, blinking the tears off her lashes as Rafayel pulled her against him and guided her to look at him. His mask was hanging around his neck. “But you've already done one cruel thing to me, you're not allowed another!”

He smiled, the moisture in his eyes glimmering.

“I’ll make it up to you by showing you the sea.”

[llflorence]

Can I convince you to fall for me?

Sequel to Did you just -- kiss me? (Human AU, RatedE)

Inspired by this art by @gahellhimself-blog

“Oh, pshh!” Maggie says as she begins her second mimosa. The fine lines around her mouth have cracked as the face mask dries. “He’s not going to judge your sexual prowess on a little chipped tooth.”

Aziraphale glances around at the stylists. They’re all watching where he and Maggie sit, side by side in the massage chairs with their feet in roiling tubs of hot, soapy water. He just knows he’s being judged.

“It’s not so little anymore,” he complains, quiet enough so only they two can hear. “If you hadn’t talked me into eating that toffee —“

Maggie’s natural falsetto voice gets even higher as she lifts the bottom of Aziraphale’s flute toward his face. “Puh-lease. It’s hardly noticeable. It’s like the dimples on your ass, or the ski-jump nose.”

Aziraphale pushes her hand away and immediately takes offense. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

She laughs. The ladies in the chairs to their right look disapprovingly down long noses. “I only meant that it’s cute!”

Before Aziraphale can protest, Maggie downs the rest of her drink. She leans over, conspiratorially like. “It’s not like he’s going to know you can’t afford the dentist because you have no insurance and can barely make rent without help from your mother. Unless, of course, you tell him.”

Maggie is the nicest, kindest, most generous person Aziraphale knows, which is why she’s his best friend. Still, alcohol does tend to make her brutally honest.

She pats his hand and lifts the glass back to his mouth. If this wasn’t their annual pampering girls' day, he’d have refused. As it is, it’s New Year's Eve morning, and he’s way out of sorts. Maybe she has the right idea.

He finishes the mimosa in two gulps and forces himself to withstand the bittersweet fizzing in his nose and on his tongue. If he’d listened to Muriel and postponed this date until after the holidays, he wouldn’t be so miserable.

Well. He’d be less miserable.

Aziraphale lets Maggie pour him another glass from the chilled carafe in the cooler by her side. By the way things are going, he’s going to need it to make it through her advice for this evening.

“Now. You’ve already hired the Uber, right?” Her pretty, plump cheeks are quite pink.

“Yes,” he sighs. “But I can’t even pay for this spa treatment. I don’t know how I’m going to pay down the credit cards —“

“Think of it this way,” she interrupts, swirling her glass and staring off into the distance. The windows are dripping with condensation, obscuring the view of the street. “If you drive Ruby, you’ll be obligated to go take her home, won’t you? This way your handsome devil will have to drive you to his place.”

Aziraphale hasn’t told her about the text messages. He’s certain that Anthony has it in the stars to bring Aziraphale home. The man just doesn’t know what to expect.

(He thinks of Ruby where she’s parked on the street outside his apartment. Two-hundred-and-forty-thousand miles and the Subaru hasn’t failed him yet.)

“Yeah,” he grumps. “And when we get there and I drop my trousers, and all I have to offer is soft-serve ice cream —“

Maggie laughs again. A good-sized splash of orange juice and champagne spills on her sweater. “At our age, that’s the least of our worries!”

Aziraphale is pretty sure she’s never had to deal with a limp dick her entire life.

“This coming from a fifty-one-year-old lesbian whose pleasure button is on the outside .”

This time, the whole row of massage chair inhabitants turns to look at them, from both sides. Aziraphale quickly hides his face in his drink.

Maggie, however, doesn’t get the hint. Her volume is way past annoying, heading for indecent. “Maybe you fifty-one-and-a-half-year-old gays should try using your fingers. Or, better yet, your mouth .”

Mimosa sprays all over Aziraphale’s lap, soiling his clean pants and dribbling down his chin. At least he hasn’t choked this time.

Felicia, his stylist, brings him a towel. There’s a mischievous glint in her eye. “About ten minutes left on the timer. You two need anything?”

Maggie needs nothing, of course. “But Aziraphale is going to need his chest waxed. I’m paying.”

“Aziraphale most certainly does not need his chest waxed!” he says, horrified. Felicia shares a wink with Maggie, and he groans at their sudden partnership.

“Come on!” Maggie pleads. She swishes her feet in the bath and bats her long eyelashes. “Don’t you think you shouldn’t leave anything to chance? Second time around and all?”

His stylist’s eyebrows rise as she lifts and checks under his mud mask. “Got a date, have we?”

Aziraphale closes his eyes and wishes he were anywhere else.

“It’s so romantic,” Maggie coos, and he knows she’s about to tell the whole tale. He inhales deeply and beats her to it.

“A friend of mine and I reconnected after fifteen years. I’m attending as his guest at a New Year’s Eve party tonight.”

Felicia knows Aziraphale almost as well as Maggie, seeing as he subscribes to therapy via hair and skin care. She eyes him head to foot and runs her tongue along the inside of her mouth. “Keep the hairy chest,” she nods. “Run some of that conditioner I gave you last time through it. You’ll thank me. So will he.”

Aziraphale takes her advice as he stands in the shower under what can only be called a ‘stream.’ It’s more like a slow drizzle; he’s called the landlord three times about the clogged shower head. And the busted lightbulb inside the fridge. And the window that’s stuck open in the kitchen. It’s getting to the point where he’s just going to fix things himself. That is, if he knew how.

He waits as long as he can, until goosebumps form on his arms and he’s procrastinated enough. He’s about as clean as he can be, and he’s done everything possible to make himself presentable. Nothing he can do about the tooth, of course.

Aziraphale shaves and dresses and paces in the kitchen as he waits for his ride. The new cufflinks from Muriel look out of place with his not-so-new shirt and suit coat. But at least he’s not wearing something rented; he could never live with himself if he did that.

He smooths out his tie and glances at the phone lying on the kitchen counter. There have been no text messages all day from him. Aziraphale knows it’s because he’s busy. Today was the day Anthony was scheduled to finish up on that very personal business he mentioned last week. And that was none of Aziraphale’s business.

The phone lights up, vibrating as a call comes through. It’s Muriel, and he considers not answering it. They’re probably ringing with more advice. As if he’s not already horribly embarrassed about the whole thing.

“Hey, Dad,” they say, bright and cheery as usual. “Just calling to wish you good luck.”

Aziraphale tries to smile so that it will show up in his voice. “Thanks, Dear. It’s really going to be f –”

“If it’s like, really bad, remember you can call me and I’ll pick you up. Just like you always offered for me.”

It’s going to be a long, long night, he thinks.

The Uber driver sends him a text from the street, and Aziraphale says goodbye to his offspring. He collects his long wool coat, hat, and mittens, and almost forgets the scarf as he pulls the door shut. It gets stuck in the door as he climbs inside, but Aziraphale doesn’t realize it. He’s too busy trying to make his hands stop shaking long enough to send a text.

To Anthony J. Crowley.

On my way! 

It’s a short drive through the busy part of downtown. Traffic is horrendous, and Aziraphale watches the time as his ride is forced to slow down to allow revelers to cross the streets. At this rate, he’ll be fifteen to twenty minutes late. Not the first impression he wishes to make, especially if Anthony relates punctuality to sex.

Sex is all Aziraphale can think about. In a matter of days, he’s become obsessed. He worries about how he smells, how he’ll taste, whether he should eat or be eaten. It ramps him up so high that he can’t focus on everyday things, like remembering to turn the dryer on after throwing wet clothes in. Or bringing the garbage and the recycling out to the cans.

So when the car pulls up to a swanky hotel, all lit up like a Christmas tree, he’s adjusting his dick inside the new underwear he bought himself as a gift. He makes the mistake of feeling the tip for wetness, which, of course, is right there. And, god, he hopes it isn’t leaking through to make a dark spot on the front of his trousers.

He pays and thanks the driver, opening the door to find the end of his scarf coated with brown, sandy slush. It’s dripping like mad as he lifts it off the ground, as he tries to close the car door and not step in the salty, puddled mess next to the curb.

The night has already begun with a failure, as he slips on the sidewalk and loses his balance. He closes his eyes as he sees very clearly what is about to happen. He’s going to land on his ass and ruin his night.

But the fall doesn’t happen. Instead, he is rescued. He is rescued by a tall, dark, devastatingly handsome man dressed in a familiar Santa cap. Gold-brown eyes twinkle down at him, and Aziraphale feels his breath catch in his throat. 

“Oh!” he manages, shocked and thrilled and a hundred other emotions all at once. Anthony has both hands firmly under Aziraphale’s elbows. And he’s smiling.

He’s smiling.

“See,” he begins, voice six shades of seductive as he steadies Aziraphale on his feet. “I thought maybe I could eventually convince you to fall for me, but this is ridiculous.”

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