#Dancing in Cloud Gate

[vivalabunbun]

An Encore of Betrayal

Summary: The devil with no sin nor memory and he who has held them all for centuries.

Word Count: 21.8k (get cozy)

Tags: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader, Slow burn, Slow fic, SMUT, NSFW, Historical AU, Fantasy AU?, Reincarnation AU, cursed!neuvillette, dragon!neuvillette, reincarnated!Reader, human!reader, Fluff, a lot of fluff, Melusines doing their best to play cupid, ex-lovers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers? ANGST, he's trying his best, dragon x human dynamics, Monsterfucking (two... I have no defense), cunnilingus(long tongue), marking, size kink? breeding kink, heat, overstimulation, hate sex? kinda?, slightly unhealthy dynamics (past life), dubcon, trust issues, immortal x mortal, slightly possessive!neuvillette, slightly yandere!neuvillette, TW: mild mention of blood, TW: descriptions of drowning, sin, and sacrifice. TW: Trauma from betrayal, themes of resentment, Infertility.

Author's Note: Wanted to try out a historical fantasy from Neuvillette's pov. I struggle with fantastical settings, so overlook any world-building confusion. Mihoyo won't give me his real name, and it's eating away at my sanity. Enjoy!

Somewhere deep beneath the waves, away from the omnipotent watch of false divinity, lies a village. A bustling home carved into an outcast cove nestled under the cover of suppressive tides.

One littered with tiny houses surrounding an impressive estate modeled much like the ones seen in those novels abandoned from capsized ships. 

Would you believe that such a place exists? 

Decorated with curious trinkets which sunk beneath the surface which had forsaken them, kept in this cove for so long that it was challenging to remember the azure hues. 

Ornaments decorating the expanse of this once lonesome cave, almost enough to conceal its true origin: A prison.

A fool sentenced to this penitentiary masquerading as a home, now affectionately named ‘Merusea Village’. 

Within that attentively built estate, a looming figure stood in front of a wall lined with neatly organized novels, lilac eyes running along the titles printed along each spine. 

A collection saved from watery abandonment after falling overboard by the curious hands of Melusines. Amassed throughout the years until the shelves of this humble library were without vacancy. 

Stopping a finger on a spine, he decided on the novel to pass the ever-plenty time bestowed upon him. He’s aware that each book amongst these shelves has been thumbed through by him.

But with enough years, the recollection of the contents contained within each one tends to become foggy. 

It's fate that the novel selected in his hands just so happens to be a collection of tales.

Humans have many strange behaviors, one might even call them traditions. One particular tradition mortals seem to indulge in often is that of storytelling. 

Lilac eyes browse through the pages, refreshing himself on the tale held within its faded covers. 

----------

There once was a lovely kingdom amidst lush pastures and fertile lands where the townspeople sang and danced under the bright sunlight.

But one day the sun disappeared, concealed behind ashen clouds that cried a lonesome hymn, plaguing the unfortunate kingdom with rain.

The origin of the rain stemmed from the lonesomeness of a great dragon of water.

Thus, to stop the rain, the king sent out a princess to the dragon, declaring that the kingdom gates wouldn’t welcome her back if rain fell from the sky. She was sent off in a white gown. 

Down below a flooded loch, the princess was offered to the weeping dragon. Looking up the princess saw the sorrowful pools in the beast’s eyes. 

‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, why do you cry?’ She asked.

Intrigued by the bravery of the young princess, the dragon answered: ‘Because I am lonely, I have no brethren left.’

Feeling pity the princess responded: ‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, don’t cry. I will be lonely with you.’ 

So the princess befriended a lonesome dragon under the hymn of softening rain, with his loneliness soothed, the sun peeked back out from ashen clouds. But one day, pitiful tears fell from her eyes and the princess wept so bitterly. 

The dragon could not bear seeing those tears stain her cheeks. He offered her pearls, jewels, and gold. Yet those bitter tears still fell, tainting the pristine water. 

‘Beloved princess, why do you cry so bitterly?’ He implored. 

‘I long to go home, I miss my kingdom,’ she revealed. 

But she could not go home, for if she stepped foot away from the riverside the lonesome rain would start again. The colossal dragon could not leave the loch, but he could not bear seeing those bitter tears.

So he relented, telling the princess a secret. A secret all dragons buried deep within: His true name. 

‘If you speak my name, my true name, then I can grant you one wish. But be careful, for there can only be one wish.’ The dragon whispered. 

‘Do you wish to return to your kingdom, beloved princess?’ He asked. 

The princess was silent for a long while, weighing the choices in her hand. She longed to return home, but she also longed to be by the side of her kind dragon. 

Confident in her decision, she beckons the great dragon closer, until her lips could reach the side of his large head where his ear lay. After whispering his name, she tells the beast her wish. 

‘I wish for you to become my prince, so we can return to the kingdom together, that way you won’t ever be lonely again.’

A clever wish he grants with a nod. Scales and claws shedding away until a handsome prince stood in front of her. Thus, hand in hand they returned from the loch to the warm welcome of the kingdom. 

And they lived happily ever after. 

----------

Ah, so it was that tale. 

Judging from the age of the novel, he guesses it must be a rendition of a rendition.

Words and events twisted, embellished, and simplified. Until it became nothing more than a mere fable told to entertain the wandering minds of children. 

A beloved tale of a maiden who got a dragon to give up his grand authority, stopping the flood of vengeance from drowning Fontaine.

This is what the origin of his damnation has turned into. The tales of the heroine’s feats sung and written throughout the narrative of time, passing from one generation’s lips to another’s ears. 

However, he supposes this is expected of humans. It’s their tradition of storytelling, after all, mending a fallacy into a tale palatable to their conscious.

Or perhaps, these embellishments were added to compensate for the hollows caused by the frailty of mortal memory. 

Patching over the holes with flowery words to distract readers from inaccuracies that were only compounded upon from the last. 

Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the dragon all that well, considering that they thought the proud dragon would bow to the whims of a meek human.

Placing a secret so simply in her hands at the mere sight of tears.

Did Fontainians not realize that the land they reside on once belonged solely to dragons? How preposterous it is that a sovereign couldn’t set foot upon his own land. Or did they forget why he couldn’t? 

What a naive ending, did mortals truly believe that blood and water could dwell together without consequences? That simply wishing the dragon to become a human could resolve all troubles?

To overwrite everything with a ‘happily ever after’ which never happened?

Regardless of his reservations toward such fables, the Melusines always seem eager to gather around for such stories. The towering figure lacked the conviction to deny such requests. 

From down the hall approaching closer came the pitter-patter of steps, he turned his tall frame toward the direction of the sound just as a few familiar faces revealed themselves from the library entrance. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette! Come quickly! A human! A human appeared!” A group of Melusines tugs on the fabric of his slacks while pointing toward the phenomenon. 

A mortal in this domain? A cavern hidden deep under the land and waters where the warmth of the sun couldn’t grace. How did such a being find their way into this sanctum?  It’d be best that he alleviates their worries. 

“Please lead the way.” Neuvillette closes the novel, returning it to the confines of its shelf. 

His swift movements in time with the melusines’ frantic patter as they made their way out from his estate.

Soon the tops of the Melusines’ cozy homes of Merusea Village came into view, as did the murmuring of a distraught crowd. 

“Excuse me.” His steps made their presence known, their heads perked up to look at him before parting a path for Neuvillette. 

Upon the maroon pasture of Merusea Village was a blanket of silk and woven lace, snowy fabric surrounding the still figure of a human.

Treading closer Neuvillette kneels down while reaching out a hand, weaving his fingers under the fabric which obscures the mortal’s face. 

“We found her while gathering offerings from the waters … Is she…” The anxious murmuring quiets to await his verdict. 

“She has a pulse,” he reveals, fingertips detecting wisps of warmth along cold skin. 

It was faint, but his attentive eyes caught onto the slow movement of her chest. The snowy fabric had greedily drunk up the essence of the sea. Cursing her to sink deeper below the tides. 

To leave a mortal in such a state would be too cruel of a fate. 

Neuvillette moves his hand to support her covered head as his other arm gathers the damp fabric under her legs.

Carefully, he stands back to his full height, cradling her limp body in his hold. An audience of fretful gazes follow his motions.

“Do not fret, she only requires some rest and a change of clothing, I’ll take her to my abode. Could you gather some cloth to dry down her body?” Neuvillette’s melodic voice just barely above a whisper, so as not to stir the figure in his arms.

His expression softens to offer the compassionate creatures some reassurance. With firm nods the Melusines scatter, determination alight in their bright irises as they sought the necessary items to care for their newfound guest. 

The dampness of the heavy fabric seeps into his own attire as Neuvillette turns the knob to grant him entry into his abode. 

Quietly ambling through the spacious halls, the master bedroom came into view. Neuvillette lays the limp form upon his sheets, ensuring that her head rests slowly upon the soft pillows. 

Just as her figure sinks into the mattress, a chorus of metallic clinks catches his attention. Glancing down her body his lilac eyes discover the origin.

A pair of silver shackles encased around her ankles, the unforgiving metal digging into defenseless flesh. 

Gingerly, he takes one ankle into his grasp to better observe the shackles.

This time he couldn’t fight against the deep frown as it debuted upon his lips. His eyes hone on how tightly those heavy chains were bound along the flesh. 

Soon the unforgiving metal crashes down to the floor, he soothes the freed skin with his thumb while checking for any other possible wounds. 

Lilac eyes travel up to her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be reminded that her face was concealed behind a shroud of lace. 

How uncomfortable it must be to have a cold piece of fabric to cover one’s face. Neuvillette places her ankle back onto the bed.

His large hands took hold of the damp veil to lift it from her resting frame, revealing to his draconic eyes for the first time their face. 

The veil stays suspended in the air as his hands cease all motion. Hardened gaze tracing over her features, the curve of her cheeks, the slope of her nose, and the structure of her face.

Repeated details he had long seared into his consciousness. 

Within those mortal tales, there’s a wide variety of beasts and fearsome creatures. Dragons were depicted as such omnipotent beasts. But there’s a monster all other beast falls secondary to, the devil. 

They didn’t possess the sharpest talons nor the largest fangs. No, what made them so horrifying is that they dawned the most enchanting faces. 

He’s staring at it right now. The face of the devil who deceived him. 

Those gods must be laughing at him right now. Those false idols, with their capricious fate and whims, who once must’ve shook hands with you to carry out their schemes all those years ago. 

The scheme which imprisons him here in this humiliating form of the mortal creatures those false idols loved so much. 

Yes, a devil, that must be what you are. For how did a meek mortal trick a dragon who once held the full authority of the tides?

His chest expands with a deep breath before a long exhale leaves him. Ah, yes that must be why this white gown has appeared before him again. He removes the senseless scrap of lace, checking once more for signs of discomfort before he turns his body away. 

Finding himself outside the threshold of his bedroom as he closes the door behind him. He should wait here for the Melusines to arrive with a change of clothes and towels. 

It’d buy him enough time to steadily return the tempestuous loch to a subdued ripple in a pond. His chest expands once more with a deep inhale. 

A second cruel rendition unfolding once more in the narrative of time.  

The crisp turn of a page resounds through the room. Lilac eyes glanced up from the text every so often to watch the steady rises and falls of your chest from his vantage point of a wooden chair pulled up to the bedside. 

Heavy lashes still shut just as they were the day your drenched figure was pulled from the tides by merciful hands. 

The journey to wisdom is lined with mistakes, mistakes providing teachings one must ingrain into their very being if they don’t wish to repeat such blunders again.

Just as how a burn seared into skin is a forever reminder that fire indeed burns indiscriminately. 

A scar ingrained deep within him cries out for Neuvillette to withdraw from the fire which scorned him so long ago. 

Alas, it’s duty which has sat him down beside your sleeping form. You’re the first guest this cove has seen in a long time, thus bringing you under the responsibility of the host, Neuvillette himself. 

A stir brings his stoic gaze back away from his thoughts. Your chest rises with a long inhale as leaden lashes flutter open.

The cadence of your breaths begins to rise as more of your senses return to you. Fatigue evident in each slow drag of breath. 

“Ah, I see you’ve awoken.” Neuvillette observes. 

Your muscles momentarily forget their fatigue as your head snaps toward the owner of the deep voice. Eyes now wide and alert. 

“My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.” He casts a glance toward the steaming bowl on the nightstand. 

He could feel the weight of your stare travels up his figure. Do you perhaps remember him? Can you recall his lush snowy locks streaked with azure? Irises that held an all too familiar hue, a multitude of lilac shades much like a field of lavenders.

Does this ‘you’ remember the dragon you fooled? 

“W-who are you?...” Your gaze was too cowardly to meet his.

Ah, have the cycle of death and rebirth washed those sins and memories?

The tonality of your trembling voice filled with puzzlement instead of recognition. He should’ve expected this much.

This you is nothing more than a stranger who shares the face of a devil. 

“Where am I?” Another question leaves those lips in the absence of a response. 

Just give him a moment, allow him to pacify the surging torrent within so their bitterness doesn’t seep into his words. 

“You’re in our village!” A cheery voice joins the conversation. 

Two pairs of eyes land upon a short figure with a pair of pastel horns. You blink once, then twice, then slowly thrice. Inquisitive eyes stared right back at you. 

“W-what… are you?” Instinct commanding your body to retract deeper into the sheets. 

A sharp cough halts your actions, drawing your attention back to the man as he lowers his hand down from his lips. 

“She’s a Melusine, they prefer to be addressed using she/her pronouns,” he elucidates, an ever so subtle chastise in his tone. 

“Oh…” You advert your gaze again, shame creeping onto your cheeks from your unintentional discourtesy. 

A few breaths of silence follow, he observes you studying everything but the two figures just beside the bed.

Your fingers soothing over the soft cotton nightgown against your skin, a change from that restrictive and ornate dress. 

“We, Melusines, helped you change out of that wet dress. Big sister Sedene said you’d get sick if we left you in that.” 

It looks like your diverted gaze wasn’t as subtle as you originally thought. Sheepishly you extend your gratitude. 

“Thank you…” Your words draw out, a brow quirked as your stare remained on her short form. 

“Kiara!” She points to herself with a mitten hand. 

“Thank you, Kiara.” You finish. 

Her mittened hand then gestures to the towering man beside her. 

“This is Monsieur Neuvillette! He’s the one who carried you here,” she announces. 

“T-thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You could only gather the courage to glance at the wall behind him. 

“Just Neuvillette is fine,” his tone melodic and calm. “Are you able to sit up?”

Nodding your head, you attempt to fight through the fatigue of your muscles. Neuvillette and Kirara offer their assistance, his firm hands guiding your body up as Kirara adjusts the pillows to support your back. 

Once you were situated, he reached for the bowl placed down earlier. A light clink sounds out from a spoon clattering about the porcelain dish. You glance at the contents, noting the clear amber broth. 

“This should be kind on your stomach while providing you with some much-needed hydration and nutrients.” He holds out the soup. 

A quivering hand attempts to reach up for the bowl, only for muscles to lose to fatigue as your arm limply falls back down to your side. Your strength has yet to return. 

Another clink from the spoon resounds in the room as it gets taken into the grasp of an attentive hand. He holds out a spoonful of the warm soup, but your lips remain shut as a skeptical gaze meets his. 

“Please forgive this inconvenience, but it’s best that you eat something to regain your strength.” The spoon remains unmoving in his hand. 

There’s a rumbling stir within him. A voice snarls into his ear, interrogating him as to why his hand is feeding the very devil who once bit it. 

“If you don’t eat you won’t get better.” Kiara’s eyes are riddled with concern as she observes your sealed lips. 

That was his rebuttal to that snarl.

The Melusines simply don’t wish to see a human in such a pitiful state. Blissful in their ignorance of events that conspired long before their birth. 

 Dignity overpowered by the guilt of seeing such pure eyes marred with worry. 

Soon your lips part, accepting the spoonful of broth delicately offered by him. After he observes you swallowing the first sip, Neuvillette holds out another spoonful. You part your lips again.

Neuvillette overrides the clamorous warnings of his instincts with the duty of being a ‘good host’, bringing another sip to your delicate lips.

 

With a regular diet of warm broth with servings of Bulle Fruit on the side, you were soon able to pick up the spoon yourself. The fatigue that plagued your bones finally leaves, allowing you to support your body off the mattress which had your shape imprinted into it. 

The Melusines, seemingly born infatuated with humanity, would often gather about your bed.

They were curious about you just as you were about them. To them, you’re the creature from those fairytales he’s read them. 

In exchange for your recollections of warm Summer days and descriptions of lush lilac fields swaying in a gentle breeze, they reveal more about this village.

About how the estate you were currently residing in was refurbished by their own-mittened hands, taking inspiration from the various books depicting what human abodes looked like. 

The beds, drapes, and even rugs are all arranged by them to create a lovely abode. A drastic change to the worn and rampaged shell it once was before their meddling.

Perhaps if he never filled their naive minds with those tales, they wouldn’t be enamored with you and humanity. 

Or maybe it’s the vibrance of your smile that drew their naive souls closer. A warmth like a flickering candlelight beckoning a moth closer.

What are the odds that the hands of fate stayed so faithful to the details of a heroine from so long ago? 

From your image to your bewitching mannerisms, and alluring voice, they’re all identical replicas. You and the ‘devil’ from that tale. 

Wisdom from a lesson learned long ago, he must not repeat the same mistake. He must not be enchanted by the same flame which scorned him. He must ensure a breadth between you and him, just as those tiresome voices call for. 

However, Neuvillette understands he has a responsibility as a host. Thus, he regularly checked on your condition, then when you were well enough to stretch your legs he accompanied you on strolls. Maintaining a respectable distance away. 

He guided you through the marble halls of the estate, showing the library and bath which were yours to access whenever you wanted.

Rooms illuminated with the muted glow of luminescence gems and pearls. Water sourced from a hidden freshwater spring. 

Impassive eyes observe yours as you look in awe at the facilities and commendations hidden deep under the tides. Were they comparable to the ones you’ve encountered back on the surface? 

This estate, these wide stone halls, those pearls and jewels once scattered about, were all made just to please the bitter tears of a mortal. Perhaps his first attempt was too subpar to quell the longing to return to the sunlight. 

But gauging from the glimmer reflecting off your eyes, it seems the Melusines attempt was satisfactory at least. 

Today’s stroll took you outside of the estate, Neuvillette accompanying you about a routine walk, watching from behind as your eyes scan the dim realm.

The lanterns lining the path of Melusine's home grace the maroon pastures and rocky walls in place of the faint wisps of sunlight offered by the depths of the sea. 

Very much expected for a village beneath the waves and earth. Were you reminiscing about the warm grace of the sun you felt up there?

It’s not fair to compare the vast sky of the surface to their cavern hidden away from the eyes of the mortals, perhaps even the divine themselves. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” You began today’s attempt at a conversation. 

“Yes?” He hums in acknowledgment. 

He keeps sentences brief, but informative. Counters to your attempts at conversation. 

“I’m aware this might sound strange, but is there a dragon down here?” Turning back to face him.

His strides stop as a lull of silence falls over the both of you. The weight of his unshaken gaze upon your shoulders caused them to tense up.

Your hands find each other for comfort under his oppressive stare as he awaits the reason behind this odd inquiry. 

“W-well you see, Fontaine has been having awful weather for years now. Saltwater ruining crops and persistent heavy rain, it’s because the Hydro Dragon is crying from his loneliness. I was selected and offered as his bride, to stop the rain, that’s what The Oratrice instructed,” you babble out. 

“So…do you know where he is?” Sheepishly you glance up. 

The lilac hues of his eyes connect with yours as his lips remain unmoving. Staring into your eyes as he contemplates what you have just revealed to him. Your hands fumble together as you await his response.

“So humans are still telling that local legend…” He sighs. 

He has to rein it back. The torrent which threatens to brew within him. Deep breaths to remind himself about the nature of mortals. 

Humans are fickle and meek creatures who constantly yearn for something divine to worship, a figurehead to guide them in the turbulence of life.

When faced with hardship and destitution, they believe such concepts to be punishment from above. 

Thus, they invent traditions to appease those false idols. Going to great lengths in attempts to pacify those unseen forces, even if it meant sacrificing one of their own. 

Perhaps this was the trait of mortals that made them so favored by the usurpers, their naive devotion feeding into the greed of selfish gods.

Maybe that’s why those false idols uprooted the land that belonged to dragons. 

“I wonder just how far that fable has spread by now,” he sighs again.

His lashes flutter shut in exasperation as a huff leaves him. It was a moment before they flutter back open to hone in on you. There’s no use in keeping his identity from you any longer. 

“Do I seem lonely in your eyes?” Baritone voice steady and low. 

No sounds fall from your agape lips as your eyes reexamine his features, this time shamelessly ogling the peculiar details you’ve brushed off previously.

Do you notice it now? How his ears were a bit too pointed, or those two particular cerulean strands of ‘hair’ poking out from his snowy locks. 

As you study the specifics of his eyes, do you now comprehend the sharp dark pupils that cut through the multitude of lilac shades? Much like a shadow cutting through a field of lavenders. 

“You’re the Hydro Dragon,” you deduce. 

He nods in confirmation. Only causing your eyes to scan over him again as your mind reels back from this revelation. 

In those stories you’ve read back on the surface, how did they depict him? As a towering scaled beast with fangs and claws? Are you wondering why he’s not matching that description? 

“I’m aware that my current shape might not convey such a presence, ” he answers your unspoken question. 

He fights for his lips to remain stoic, not allowing the weight of a frown to pull them down. You don’t know, you don’t need to know, he reminds himself. 

A detail excluded from the pages of that tale, the ‘princess’ would only ever look at him, would only ever smile at him when a dragon took on this shape. A form which mirrors humans. 

In fact, she was so fond of this human shell of his that she cursed him to dwell within it for the rest of eternity. 

Neuvillette takes another deep breath, quelling the stir once more. You look like you had more questions. 

“So… does that mean the need for a bride is fictitious?” You clutch your hands tighter. 

Some years ago, the Melusines were born from spilled blood. A new generation of successors of the brethren he once forsaken. Making this prison much less lonesome, voiding the accuracy of the sentence in that tale. 

If that was the case, then why did the waters still rage? Why did the pittering of rain drown out all bird songs and tumults of perplexed citizens? Is there a way he could simplify the details missed by storytellers for generations? 

After that ‘happily ever after’, a dragon cursed his devil just as she cursed him. 

No, such expositions would be an unfair burden upon your shoulders. 

“It’s not fictitious.” Turning to gaze out at the depths of the underground realm, he takes a breath before continuing. 

“The land which your nation, Fontaine, resides on is stolen land,” he reveals. “More accurately all of what you know as ‘Teyvat’ was stolen from the dragons, my fellow brethren.” 

The furrow in your brows deepens as you listen on. 

“My brethren were banished to the depths for the sake of humanity. A dragon’s rage isn’t something that can be easily quelled.” He glances back at you. 

“A union between a dragon and a human, a show of peace between the two species. Even if the origins of this ritual have been embellished heavily, it serves the same purpose to pacify the ancient dragon’s rage,” he concludes. 

Neuvillette wonders if this tale was enough to satisfy your inquiry, if his attempt at the human practice was enough to simplify the events muddled and twisted by time.

Impassive eyes scan over your expression, not missing the glimmer ever so bright within. 

“So… has the rain stopped?” Your hands almost clasped together in prayer. 

He nods, the shine growing ever so luminous in those blameless irises, one he couldn’t resist the enchantment of. That all too familiar look in your eyes. 

“That’s good.” A slow smile made its appearance upon plush lips.

Ah. He remembers what that look was called, voices of recollection pulling him away from the edge. Just before he fell into bewitchment once more.

That look wasn’t relief, nor was it salvation. It's duty. He takes a slow and deep inhale. 

Just as it was all those years ago, the narrative of this tale did not stray away from the plot. He must be more careful. 

There’s been a still lull engulfing the atmosphere down in a hidden cavern. So still in fact that walks amongst maroon patches of grass have stopped. Your body was well enough to explore the corners of the state without assistance. 

No reason for him to remain by your side throughout the day, and no reason for you to shadow him. 

Neuvillette and you keeping mostly to one’s self. It was just the natural progression of things. After all, the ritual had been completed and the tides had receded. You’ve served your duty once more. 

A foreign aroma was wafting through the estate, strange enough for Neuvillette to leave the library to investigate the origins of this aroma.

Steps slowing as the clacker of pots and pans becomes more distinct. The entrance of the estate kitchen comes into view, and he peers in to see a few familiar faces. 

“Oh? Monsieur!” Rhemia notices his presence. 

An assortment of vegetables, spices, and even some meats from fresh catches were spread about the table as a pan sizzling over a crackling fire.

Ingredients gathered from offering dropped down below the tides. The recent influx could be attributed to how the hymn of the rain has ceased. 

“Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette.” Your smile greets him. 

Ah, he’s found the explanation behind the foreign aroma and why the variety spread of ingredients was being utilized in a kitchen that was once mainly created just to match those diagrams drawn in novels. 

“I hope you don’t mind my use of the kitchen, I wanted something other than…Consomme Purete.” Wiping your hands with a rag. 

Yes, Consomme Purete.

It was the dish served when you had first woken up, a light but nutritious soup that was kind on your stomach. It had the right amount of hydration balanced with nutrients to sustain oneself, a perfect dish.

The only dish cooked in this kitchen, that was until today. 

Removing a pan from the heat, you carefully transfer the contents onto a plate then place the pan back on the wood stove.

The rich aroma caused an audience of bright-eyed stares from the Melusines to center upon the steaming plate. Their tails make their excitement clear as they gaze upon a dish they’ve never seen before. 

Was this a new passion of this life?... Or was it just one he never got the chance to witness?

Was this the devil before the role of a bride was forced upon her? A devil he’s never known, for all he saw was her performance to stop the deafening rain all those years ago.

His attention was brought back as the chime of cutlery against porcelain was heard, cooked veggies stabbed between the teeth of a fork.

Cupping a hand under the fork, your body leans down to the Melusine’s height, feeding them a bite of the fragrant dish. The wags of their tails increase in cadence as they chew. 

“This is Tasses Ragout, tasty isn’t it?” The corners of your lips curl as you watch their little heads nod eagerly. 

The suspicion melts from his gaze as he observes to the delight in their expressions, a few mitten hands tugging at the skirt of your gown for a bite. A giggle bubbles from your throat.

A scene mirroring that of a mother trying to appease the appetites of her ravenous young. 

Soon your eyes connect and he straightens his posture. Brushing away the nonsensical musing, lilac hue advert away momentarily to recompose themselves before returning. 

“Would you like a taste?” A fork offered in his direction, beckoning closer to take a bite. 

There’s a myth he’s read about, of a forbidden apple held out by the tempter of all tempters, an apple so red and lustrous it made any mouth salivate. 

“Thank you for the offer, however, I’ve already had my lunch.” He refrains. 

A bite from that forbidden fruit was the genesis of disgrace and banishment. A betrayal of commandments once promised. Neuvillette won’t be deceived again. 

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

“Monsieur! Monsieur! Come look!” 

Mittened hands grasping upon his coat and gloved hands as a circle of Melusines guides him through the winding halls, anticipation amping their voices. 

There’s a chorus of giggles resounding through the halls, a joyous clamor of pattering steps against the marble floors.

The estate has been lively ever since your arrival in that white dress, a liveness which reaches his pointed ears even from behind closed doors. 

Regardless, he allows himself to be towed by their skipping steps. Leading him to a room he recognizes as a space where many fabrics and gowns were collected and stored.

Garments made with the intent to be sold to Fontainians, but their crates were capsized over by the ravenous tides. Saved from watery abandonment by curious hands. 

While this form of his could wear a few of those garments, the Melusines had statures much too short for pools of fabric to not drag along the ground. Thus, that collection of fabrics found themselves collecting dust. 

Their steps abruptly stop just at the threshold of the door, mittened hands pressed up against their lips signaling for him to remain silent.

Soon their sights glance into the room as he follows, lilac eyes opening ever so slightly wider as they process the scene in front of him. 

Evening gowns crafted by skilled tailors to be sold to Fontanian ladies, you had the right frame for those garments as well.

A trail of lustrous sapphire silk gathered behind your figure. The artistic stitching and pleating draping the silk around each curve of your body as if you were the only person meant to wear it. 

A few Melusines fussing about the silk train, ever so curious of humanity, they must’ve requested for you to dawn the gown.

Just as they often had requested for him to dawn those fickle suits and coats for their enjoyment.

It seems you bent to their childish whims just as he does. 

“How do you like it?” You ask your audience, twirling about in front of a mirror. 

It’s different from those hardier dresses for when you wandered about the village and estate, in comparison this dress was much less practical. 

“It’s beautiful, Madame!” Their round eyes were enamored.

“I’m glad, who knew you had such an aesthetic eye.” Your expression softens. 

Bending down to Carole’s height, you scooped her up. Cradling her as your forehead touches her horns gently.

“Thank you for such a lovely dress.” Placing tender pats along her head, careful to not disturb her horns and hair. 

Carole leans into your touch as your smile widens. Twirling once more with her in your arms, giggles ringing throughout the room.

Until your head peeked up, finally aware of the silent spectator just behind the door frame. 

“Oh, hello Neuvillette,” you greet him with a smile he doesn’t return.

A tense lull creeps in, and a chill begins to mix with the quiet atmosphere. Lilac eyes pass over your form as Carole remains sat in your arms.

“Monsieur! Isn’t Madame pretty? Look!” Cheery and oblivious voices chime returning the warmth to the air. 

Mitten hands release your skirt as they skitter toward his towering figure. Pride shines in their beaming smiles, awaiting validation of their handy work.

Steadfast eyes lowering themselves to the level of their short statures until the sharp edges gradually dissipate. 

“A fine effort indeed.” A gloved hand extends to rest atop their heads. 

Patting their heads tenderly as they closed their eyes in contentment 

A warmth in those lilac hues, endearment no word could ever encapsulate fully. 

“Are they your daughters?” Your head slants to the side.

His body stills, strictness reinstated in those violet irises just as they met yours. Studying that look within your polite smile, one which didn’t seem to reach your eyes. 

Gloved hand ceasing all movement, his concentration now elsewhere. That expression ghosting your face, what does it mean? 

“My apologies, was it too impudent of a question?” Your gaze adverts away, searching for reprieve in this heavy hush.

A deep breath as he formulates his response. 

“I don’t share blood with them if that’s what you’re inquiring. However, they are the successors of my brethren.” 

“Oh, I see,” you hum. 

 Neuvillette returns to patting their heads, while you readjust your hold on Carole. Subtly bouncing her, while turning back to face the standing mirror.

Casting a glance, he could discern the softness returning to that polite smile. Yet, the dragon has yet to unravel that luster in your irises. 

An audience of bright eyes switches between the Monsieur and Madame. 

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

“Bring these to her, you should greet the Madame!” Tiny hands push against Neuvillette’s back. 

The traitorous clicks of his shoes against marble expose his approach.

Your head peers up from the book resting upon your lap, in the midst of reading a tale aloud to an audience. 

Just in time to catch the tall figure of Neuvillette emerging into the library at the behest of the Melusines. 

Lilac eyes meet yours ever so briefly before his gaze averts elsewhere. Gloved hand adjusting a bundle hidden a broad back, brings the other hand up to clear his throat. 

“The Melusines found these when retrieving some offerings from the water, I believe you’ll enjoy them.” He presents their trinket. 

A simple collection of dainty petals clustered together, pastel hues contrast against vivid virescent leaves. A quaint ribbon tied around the stems holding the bunch together held out in front of your face.

The recipient stares in round-eyed astonishment at the fragrant blooms before a smile melts into your lips. 

“Thank you.” You accept the bouquet from his hand. 

Admiring the rustic arrangement and the saccharine aroma as the Melusines sat around you leaned in closer to catch a whiff too. 

“These are called Pluie Lotus up on the surface, they smell nice right?” Giggling lightly as you held the bouquet closer to their noses. 

Grin ever present upon your lips as your soft eyes watch their marvel of such simple weeds. A bloom foreign to this realm abandoned by the sunlight. 

There’s subtle slack in his posture, a budding smile just about to unfold just as your head peers back up. Every fiber in Neuvillette’s being tenses, goosebumps slithering up his nape. 

Frozen there only able to witness your eyes study back and forth the hues of his irises and the periwinkle color tinting the fragile petals.

He watches an epiphany light up in your widened eyes as the bouquet was lifted higher, turning back to face him. 

Don’t. Don’t say the words he knows are hanging off the tip of that honeyed tongue. 

“They are the same lovely color as your eyes, Neuvillette.” You beam at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling from the stretch of your lips. 

His posture returns to its rigid and upright state, a hand hidden from view balls up into a fist.

A sharpness threatening to break through leather confines and into his palm, as if they were attempting to grapple the surging torrent stirred up within himself. 

Why? Why was this line from a script being recited word for every damn word? All said with that saccharine smile plastered over those wicked lips? 

Indecipherable eyes narrow ever so slightly before he catches himself. Reining in the torrent just before it seethed out.

He clears his throat again to swallow back the bitterness. 

“Do excuse me, please return to your reading session,” he utters his parting. 

Promptly turning to return to his secludedness, stepping past the Melusines gathered by his side.

Swift strides through the empty halls leaving you to your peace and him to his peace, just as it should’ve been. Much to the pouts of a disappointed audience. 

However, he didn’t have the mind to contemplate their discontent. Not when these rabid bellows drown out every other thought in their rancor.

Like a sea starved for vengeance, ravenous to settle a debt against those vile gods and their beloved creations. 

A brass knob was abruptly twisted, hinges squealing in surprise as at the force as Neuvillette shuts it behind himself.

Ragged breathes resounding through the reprieve of his bedroom. Away from innocent bystanders and the devil who showed her face again after all these centuries for an encore.  

Has he not been humiliated enough? He tugs at his cravat, freeing himself from the fickle decoration constricted about his neck in this already imprisoning body.

A form which binded him no matter how violently talons and fangs clawed and chewed, unable to leave a singular dent upon this damn curse. 

This was humiliating enough, bound to this cove that separated him from the sea which cries for their sovereign.

He once believed this penitentiary was obscured away from the peeking eyes of capricious gods. Perhaps, he’s wrong. 

Why is this fantasy being played out right in front of his eyes now after all these years?

To have you by his side, to have you reside in the home he craved out and inlaid pearls into, to see you smile and cradle young against your bodice. It’s insulting. 

Because this was all he ever wanted. This was all he had ever wanted. 

The lonesome dragon only ever yearned for a maiden’s endearment. He once believed she adored him back just the same. 

Because while she lay within his arms under silken covers, her bare skin pressed against his mortal shape, her enchanting eyes always regarded him with such tenderness as her delicate hand stroked his cheek. 

A glimmer he once believed was love.  

The tale written along the parchment implied that the ‘princess’ loved the dragon. However, that was inaccurate. She never did. 

For if she loved him, then she wouldn’t have deceived him.

She wouldn’t have ever whispered his secret to the town’s folk. Those foul creatures who then used his secret, which was once reserved solely for ‘you’.

Why? That simple question taunted him for decades as he rotted in this mocking solitude.

Why did ‘you’ yearn for the sun more than him? Was his love not enough to replace the warmth of a star? Was the home he made not enough when compared to the extravagance of humanity? 

Or was it because blood and water, no matter how much they intertwine and mix, could never produce wine? 

If… if the Melusines had been born just a few centuries earlier, then would you have been satisfied by his side? An answer he could already discern.

 Because after his decades of solitude within these deridingly hushed walls, he finally accepted the truth. 

 She loved her people, they took up all the space of her heart, leaving no room for a prideful leviathan.

What a clever plan it all was, to distract a sovereign from his duty, cleansing stolen land with a flood of vengeance, by sending a maiden.

A woman so bewitching, so enchanting, and so lovely, that a proud dragon couldn’t resist bending to her whims. Spilling the secret hidden deep within him into her ear. 

Abandoning his true form to be confined in the shape she favored the most. Then lured up to the surface, suspicions obstructed by the dazzlement of a false welcome from the nation of Fontaine. 

Unaware until the scorching knife was already lodged in his back. Using the secret he had only ever told you, those meek creatures of the usurpers wished:

‘For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides’. 

What a clever ploy, a masterly crafted master plan. Did that Oratrice bestow it upon mortals? Or was it your own little scheme? A devil in human skin who must’ve been enlisted by the god themselves. 

 That day when he was chained by that loch, you didn’t even bother to grace him with your presence.

You cruel, cruel devil whose heart only had room for her fellow citizens of Fontaine, whose eyes only ever glimmered with duty. 

Neuvillette had finally comprehended the truth, he had made peace with the disgrace he brought upon himself. 

So why did those vile false gods dangle you back in his face? They had already taken fragments of his authority.

Was his torment entertaining to them? 

Lungs shaking with unsteady breaths, he could feel the pricks of scales dotted along his skin only for this body to swiftly reject it. A turmoil of draconic influence constrained by a mortal curse. 

Like a beast kept in a cage much too small for it. If Neuvillette wishes for this agitation to cease, he must cease the stirred emotions. 

 Emotions don’t settle quickly once agitated like sand attempting to settle at the bottom of violent tides. He paces his shuddery inhales, biding in the solitude of his room until the storm dissipates. 

To avoid the placid lake within him from thrashing violently to the woes from the throb of a wound which has yet to scar over, Neuvillette found it best to avoid your presence. 

The lanterns outside the Melusine’s homes had long gone out as they followed their routine bedtime.

The expanse of the cavern dimmed to near blackness, the small creatures all tucked away soundly in their beds. A hushed ambiance provides a suitable environment for reflection. 

His steps flatten the grass underneath as they accompany his strides with their rustling.

The absence of light had never bothered him, it’s within his nature to detest it. Any beast would withdraw away from the mere image of fire. 

The rustle of the grass halts, a wispy aroma of smoke wafts towards him. It doesn’t take long to identify the origin. Only a small flicker broke through the shadows, candlewick fostering only a weak flame.

But it was enough to fend the shadows away from your frame. 

The flame’s light caught on each subtle ripple of the pond you were kneeling over.

The seemingly unremarkable pool served as the sole entrance and exit to Merusea Village. Where the Melusines traveled through to gather food, fresh water, and trinkets swallowed up by the waves. 

Cold waters catch the bitter droplets of your pained eyes in the reflection of the ripples upon the surface, the distorted silhouette of a weeping devil. 

An unspoken gospel revealed to draconic pupils. 

Under the rich aromas wafting from the kitchen, behind the diligently tailored gowns, and hidden in the cadence of your voice as you read tales aloud, laid the yearning for the rays of a bright star. 

You’re human, a creature fleeting and meek by nature. Blood yearns to be with blood just as every drop of rain yearns to return to a cloud. 

A sharp rustle of grass under a heavy step jolts your hunched-over posture straight, head whipping around to face the uninvited audience.

Once those weeping eyes recognize the brooding figure in front of them, your face adverts away from his direction. Shame evident upon your expression. 

A concerned hand reaches out only to retract away, contrition marring his shut lips as Neuvillette diverts his eyes too.

Fire burns indiscriminately, even the dancing flame of a candle can sear its mark upon skin. Neuvillette knows this all too well, for the lesion he received from embracing that flame once still festers even after all these years.  

However, lilac eyes pan back towards the orange glow illuminating your melancholic face. Warm hues contrast against the wet trails down your cheeks. There’s an ache more agonizing than a festering wound. 

His steps advanced closer until he was knelt down by your slump frame. A benevolent touch lands upon your shoulder. Guiding you away from the taunting waters and into his arms, hiding your face in his broad shoulder. 

 Offering you a semblance of warmth in a coven shunned from the grace of gentle sunlight.

With your face away from his gaze, the cacophony of your sobs returns, digging your fingers into the folds of his dress shirt.

Echoed back mockingly by the cold cavern walls.

Perhaps a foolish dragon has yet to learn his lesson, still lured in that the brilliant light of a flame. 

A gentle hand traces up along your back, softly brushing your hair away to reveal the skin of your nape to his sharp pupils.

Honed in upon untainted skin, the courts of rebirth may have removed the proof of your damnation, but not the hex itself. 

Or maybe, a foolish dragon feels some responsibility for being the one to curse you to this fate. 

A mark once imprinted upon your nape by a lonesome dragon, a heavy oath sworn to you engrained into the very fabric of your soul amidst the first rendition.

One which then became the cursed chains that sunk you under the unforgiving waters.

It’s said that love is heavy, a weight greater than the density of water. A heaviness which could sink anything and everyone under salty tides. 

A heaviness originating from this accursed prison where a disgraced being resided.

Even as the earth above welcomed new generations as they said goodbye to bygone times. 

The solitude of a fool turning into ravenous waves which seeped into soil until its appetite was satiated by the return of its beloved treasure.

It’s his fault that the tides stole you from the sunlight. 

The courts of rebirth had already forgiven you of this burden, not a single memory remaining of that tale.

What right does he have to place it back upon you? There’s no point in punishing one for a sin that had been cleansed by the tides of time.

You didn’t deserve to be held away from the warmth of a benevolent sun.

To have been dragged down below to these depths. To have been stolen away from the warmth of the sun by the command of fickles gods and ancient grudges.

It’s much too severe of a sentence for you, someone who didn’t deserve to repent for a sin that wasn’t truly yours. 

Is it okay for his hands to wipe away your tears when this cursed dragon was the cause of your agony?

Even if it’s wrong, Neuvillette holds you closer. Even if he didn’t have the right, he pressed your face in his shoulder. Allowing the vehemence of your tears to scorch his skin as you buried your cries into him. 

Glancing at the pool you had been leaning over, he watches as the ripples of the surface taunt you and him the same.

Two beings whose bodies couldn’t embrace the tides. Two cursed beings who’ve been trapped in repeated play. 

“It seems you’re bound to this prison as well.” He scorns those gods and ancient grudges, but he scorns himself the most.

Confined behind a human face and a human body, a traitor who’s lost his birthright over the waters who couldn’t welcome him.

How can a cursed dragon quell those choking sobs of yours? How can he atone for his selfish sin?

Neuvillette takes a deep breath just your tears continue to soak his skin. Steeling his resolve, he meditates on the one resolution he can offer you. 

“Fontainians still tell a tale about a princess who wished a dragon to become a prince, yes?” He begins. 

After a pause filled with hiccups and shaky breaths, you nod your head as an answer. 

“It was when she spoke the dragon’s true name that he granted her one wish,” he recounts the tale, feeling the trembles of your shoulders. 

“That part of the story isn’t fictitious,” he reveals.

Voices from the depths of his rationality whisper for him to stop, to expand no more upon this secret of his brethren. Clamorous warnings to a traitor to not repeat his past transgressions. 

However, he obeys no edict from the heavens or origins. Not when an unjust punishment caused such heart-wrenching sobs. 

“Names hold great significance to dragons. So much so, to whoever learns their true name, a wish can be granted.” 

Slowly, your tear-stained face pulls away from his crinkled dress shirt. Finally meeting his lilac gaze. He notes the bewilderment which surrounds his reflection in your eyes. 

“Is… your name not ‘Neuvillette’?” You inquire. 

“It’s a surname bestowed upon me by the mortals of the land.” 

“Then… What is your name?” A glimmer of optimism ever so subtly debuts in your eyes. 

He could not tell you. No matter how beautifully that light shines, this was one ordinance he couldn’t ignore. All he could do was glance away as he shakes his head. Unable to bear the sight of that light extinguishing. 

“That is what you must find for yourself.” 

Perhaps this is his defiance of the plot which has been unraveling for so long. His attempt to step off that circular path, searching for a different end. 

The silent audience of fate watching on with bemusement to where this rendition will lead. 

“Oh?”

“Oh?”

What a peculiar occurrence, Neuvillette was just about to exit his study when he found himself just a breath’s width away from you. Instinctively, he takes a step back behind the threshold of the doorway.

Passive eyes studying your form, you must’ve been standing there for a while. A hand held up intending to knock on the oak door returns to your side as you stare at the floor. 

“Is there something you need assistance with?” He continues to study you. 

Lilac eyes observe as your fingers clasp together, a common habit of mortals when nervous, if he recalls the contents of a book correctly. Another minute passes before you take a deep breath. 

“Is your name Guillaume?” You peer up. 

Ah, so this is what you wished to inquire about.

The secret revealed to you that day beside an exit neither he nor you could cross. Guillaume, a name befitting of nobility. But unfortunately, not for a dragon. 

He responds with a shake of his head, expression stiffening as he watches the corners of your lips drop ever so slightly. 

“Oh…”

It seems his existence brings nothing but a frown upon those soft lips, Neuvillette felt it’s best to retreat from your sight. 

This attempt was evidence of your determination to return to the embrace of a warm star.

It wouldn’t be right for him to interfere, despite those vile voice whispers murmuring from the depth of his mind. It wouldn’t be fair to you. 

It’s best to maintain this distance between his hand and yours, for your sake and his. 

Which begs the question, why were you still standing here in front of him? 

“Is that all you wished to inquire?” Neuvillette hopes the Melusines will lift your spirits after he withdraws. 

“Actually…” You began. “I made some soup and if you haven’t had lunch yet, would you like to try some?” 

Although his stoic face might not reflect it, he’s positively baffled. Were ‘you’ always this enthusiastic about food?

The devil he knew before would view the freshest catches and clearest waters offered by a dragon with blasé reactions. 

You used to recoil away from the fishes and meats he held out to you, they were only ever touched once he charred them over a fire. 

Then again the kitchen back then was much more barren than the present, cabinets now decorated with bottles of fragrant spices and herbs. 

Was it just a difference in palate? To reject such an invitation would be to squander a precious opportunity for investigation. 

“The pleasure would be all mine.” He matches your strides as the two of you traverse toward the kitchen. 

Settling down in a chair at a wooden table, Neuvillette watches as you ladle some soup into a bowl. Following your form as you set the bowl down in front of him. A pleasant aroma accompanies the steam emitting from the bowl. 

“It’s Fontainian Onion Soup.” You hand a spoon over. 

“Thank you.” He takes the utensil and scoops a hearty serving of the rich soup.

A distinct flavor of caramelized onions and the creaminess of cheese. The broth had been thickened with a bit of flour and the cheese added to the heavy mouth feel. 

This dish certainly expresses the flavor preferences of humans… but could such a thick broth really be considered soup? 

“Do you like it?” Your head tilts to the side as he feels your inquisitiveness. 

Dabbing a napkin over his lips, he clears his throat. 

“A fine dish indeed. Although increasing the liquid content and reducing the amount of fat could improve it,” he advises. 

A hush falls over the kitchen, nothing but the occasional crackle of a fire filling the space. 

“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind.” Your voice was restraining something. 

As you turn away, Neuvillette catches the subtle shakes of your shoulders. 

Ah, has he caused offense? He recalls how cooking and food preferences amongst humans tend to be a sore spot for most, some books going as far as to claim critics as attacks on one’s pride. 

You had taken time out of your day to prepare a bowl for him, and he gave senseless comments in return. 

“Ah, but it’s delicious regardless, thank you.” He has to remedy this situation. 

The shakes of your shoulders increase, as a hand covers your lips. 

“Thank you, Monsieur.” Your lips seem to be trying to stifle something. 

After finishing your sentence, your lips pressed tighter together. He could see the corners twitching as they tried their best to remain neutral.

Before he could get another word in, you excused yourself. Leaving him in front of the warm soup. 

In that moment, Neuvillette vows to himself that even if you were to hand him a piece of charcoal he’ll swallow it without a single complaint. 

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

“Is your name Édouard?” 

Your voice causes him to turn his attention away from the pages of a book this quiet evening.

You stood just off to the side of the bookshelf where he was browsing, a candle illuminating the curiosity held in your eyes. Presenting a name likely discovered from those very same shelves.

Dirges ring from the corners of his mind, warning him not to allow the light to approach so close.

However, where is a shadow supposed to withdraw to when the light seeks him?

Just as how the tide couldn’t run away from the shore for long. Steadfast and constant attempts to unravel the secrets held by the ebbs and flows. 

Alas, he shakes his head again today, steeling his nerves as he catches the slight drop in your shoulders. Louis, Étienne, Théodore, and all those previous guesses, are names of heroes in Fontainian tales and epics. 

Popularized to the point many boys were named after them, but no parent would ever want to name their child after a dragon, a beast.

He doubts the pages of history have ever recorded his name. 

Your disheartened gaze couldn’t meet his, choosing to stare into the space beside him. He couldn’t fault you for that.

All your efforts of combing through old novels to search for obscured monikers just to be undone by a shake of a head.

He’s not sure how much longer he can endure being the origin of your melancholy.

“There’s a tear in your coat…” 

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, he glances at the spot your eyes were honed on and spots the aforementioned tear. 

“Ah, I see. My apologies for being in such an unsightly state, ” he sighs. Lilac eyes ran along the jagged seams. 

He should go find a replacement from his wardrobe, but you still looked like you had something to say. 

“I can fix it if you’d like,” you offer. 

It’s just a garment, a piece of cloth that fell off some merchant’s ship and found itself in the walls of a cove. There were plenty of other garments that suffered the same fate, picked up by pairs of curious mittened hands. 

To replace this robe would be simple, but he notes the concealed eagerness in the fidget of your fingers. It must be rather dull for you down here for the past year, to the point you resorted to repairing old fabrics for enrichment. 

Regrettably, Neuvillette admits he’s not the best host. He’s got no talent for small talk nor does he know how to entertain you, thus he left it up to the Melusines. However, he could at least do this much as a host. 

“Thank you, I’d be grateful if you do.” 

His steps in time with yours through the halls as an old storage room comes into view. Still filled with collections of folded gowns and coats.

As he observes the room, you guide him to a pair of wooden chairs, a box filled with needles and threads beside one. You place the candle down on a nearby table.

“I’ll take your coat.” Holding out your hands. 

Following your request, he slips the robe off his shoulders, leaving him in a dress shirt and slacks.

Attentively you take the garment, settling down in a seat as your hand searches through the box. After your rummaging stopped, you glance back at him. 

“It won’t take long, please have a seat.” Gesturing toward the other chair. 

Lilac eyes scanned the aged seat, the door was just beyond it, it wouldn’t take much of an excuse for him to walk past the wooden threshold.

However, he pans back to your anticipatory gaze still awaiting. It wouldn’t be polite to deny such a simple gesture. 

Thus, he heeds your request, ambling toward the empty seat, he begins to settle down just as a rip resonates through the air.

His body halts all movement just as yours did, toward pairs of eyes trained on the sleeve that had been caught on the edge of a wooden table. 

The fibers of his shirt entangled with the jagged edges causing his sleeve to rip. Neuvillette truly has yet to acclimate to such fickle inconveniences. 

“Pfft!-” Quickly your hand covers your mouth. 

Lips pressed together as they tried their best to stifle the sounds threatening to leak out. Your shoulders shaking from the effort, just as they did that day in the kitchen.

Although his expression remains the same, he’s quite dumbfounded.

Unable to contain the sounds any longer, you erupt into a fit of giggles as he continues to stare. The bright chimes of your laughter fill the room, a melodic tune he had longed to hear for so long. 

“S-sorry, I just didn’t expect you to… be so clumsy.” Giggles fragment your sentence along with a brief pause to collect yourself. 

Clumsy. Yes, he remembers that word, an adjective you used to describe a dragon whenever he took on the shape you favored so much.

Of course, even a great beast like a dragon would totter and stumble when in such a foreign body. 

Although he has been in this body for many, many years now, yet, Neuvillette hasn’t acclimated to these fickle mortal attires.

If these garments weren’t pushed into his hands by the Melusines and their bright-eyed stares, he’d prefer to not dawn them. 

Neuvillette shuts his eyes. His lungs intake a deep breath, stifling the sway of these trivial inconveniences before they cause any ripples.

Once he’s certain there was no jagged edge to his stare, lilac hues peek back upon your figure. 

By now those fits of giggles had faded into a tranquil lull, your content face focused on the stitches. Body relaxed against the back of the chair, weaving the needle through the sides of the tear.

Subconsciously, his frame begins to mimic yours, rigid muscles melting against the wooden support. 

Lavender hues follow the disappearance of a sliver point, then catch its emergence from the fabric.

The torn and frayed edges draw closer and closer together by the coaxes of the thread, each stitch attentively placed by your graceful hands. 

“Neuvillette?” Your serene voice interlaces with the placid interlude. 

He hums an answer. 

“That night by the entrance… you said ‘You're bound to this cove as well’.” The pace of the needle slows. 

“Why did you say that?” You finish your question. 

Observant, a characteristic of yours he’s always deemed quite commendable. Ever so keen on the nuances of his sentences. 

The piercing stare of draconic eyes weighs on your shoulders, despite that the cadence of the needle didn’t falter. A ripple makes its appearance within a placid pool. 

“Do you really wish to know?” He warns. 

You hum resolutely. A bitter taste creeps its way up his tongue, the recollection of the string of words which damned him here. 

Instinct advises him to swallow them back, to conceal his shame from your awaiting ears. However, answering the call of your curiosity should be enough of a repayment for repairing a coat. 

“For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides. That is the curse set upon this body,” he reveals. 

The needle stops.

“A curse?…” you stammer out. 

Under your breath, Neuvillette hears you recount the disclosed secret. Repeating it to yourself as if to decipher the syntax, to find some answers to his condemnation.

The answer was sitting just in front of him. 

“…For the rest of one’s life… well, how long do dragons live?” 

To mortals, it’s time who is the reaper of their existence. From the moment a newborn sounds their first cry to the final draw of air on their deathbeds, it was the hands of a clock who ruled over them.

But such hands could not touch a being such as him. 

“The life of a dragon begins and ends in the Fontemer Sea, born from it, made from it, and shall return to it to be born again.” He wonders if mortals could grasp such a concept. 

“Oh…” Your tone grew more somber. 

Judging from your tonality, you must’ve pieced the allusions together.

To be contained within these stone walls with only a pool of seawater he could not touch as the opening, is to bestow upon him immortality he never asked for.

For the Hydro Dragon could not return to the Fontemer Sea. 

Even if dragons had long lives, it didn’t mean the humiliation of immortality. The true cruelty of this seemingly kind curse. 

“Why?” Your voice just barely above a whisper. 

Why was he cursed? Why is he in this sham of a mortal body? Why did he reveal the secrets of his brethren? All of this at the trifling sight of bitter tears. 

“Because the people of Fontaine found my name and they wished for it.” 

Why did he give you his name? And why did you then give it away? There are many questions left unanswered by that tale. 

Why did a proud dragon bow to the whims of a mere mortal in that fairytale?

A creature as potent as a dragon should never bow, not to the ordinances of false gods, not to the turbulence of fate, and not to a mere mortal. 

 Why did a maiden wish for a dragon to become a human like them? Water is an adaptable element, able to take on any shape it pleases. However, it yearns to always return to its natural shape. 

Perhaps, his ‘natural’ form appalled the devil too much. So much so, she used that one wish to confine him in the form she favored most.

More confoundingly, why did Neuvillette allow such a request? A creature favored by the usurpers dared to wish a dragon to abandon his heritage, to cross over the threshold of humanity just for their sake.

Why would a dragon ever bow to a mortal’s request?

The commandments of a false god and the howling thrashes of wind can’t make a proud dragon bow, but the weight of love might be enough for a prideful beast to lower his head towards a mortal. 

A traitor to his own fallen brethren is much too dignified of a title for Neuvillette. No, it’d be better to call him for what he is: A Fool. 

What a spectacle it was that day, even those fickle gods peered down just to watch. A fool who lost his form and authority was imprisoned beneath the tides.

A stir shakes that pool, whirling and writhing, the billows of bitterness mounting. 

“… could it be wished away?” Your voice beckons his thoughts to return to the present. 

Unlike how it was written in those tales, a curse can’t be ‘broken’. Not by a kiss, and not by clasping one’s hands together in prayer. 

“Not even a miracle could make a curse vanish, a curse only ever goes away once its clauses have been fulfilled.” 

Until the stars burn out, until the sky caves in on itself, or until the oceans of this uprooted world dry up, he shall remain here. The retribution a traitor deserves. 

He shall remain in this sham of a body, unable to become the form he desired the most in the next life he’ll never reach.

Not a human, not a dragon, just an atrocity somewhere in-between. This must be what humans call ‘purgatory’.  

“I see…” Your attention never leaves the half-stitched garment sprawled upon your lap. 

A heavy silence fills the space between you and him once more. To conclude a conversation on such a doleful note would be a disgrace. 

However, what is he to say? What words can salvage this situation? Neuvillette has no talent for small talk, he doesn’t have the same mortal heart as yours to provide you with any solstice. 

Amidst his contemplation, a soft hum resounds through the quietude, and the melodic rhythm of a lullaby begins. It seems that you took matters into your own hands, ending the doleful silence at your own discretion.

Once more his back reclines into the wooden chair, pointed ears indulge themselves in a nostalgic tune.

It’s strange, that rippling pool is swaying back to equilibrium. The surface returns to its placid rest as tension melts from his muscles. 

Unaware of the hushed pitter-patter of a curious audience, drawn in by the gentle song as their bright eyes peer ever from the cover of the door frame. 

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

“Madame! Look I got more Pluie Lotuses!” Kiara’s little steps rush across the marble floor. 

Getting up on the tips of her feet to show the bundle of fresh blooms, salty water still dripping from their petals, as her bangs stick flush to her face still damp from the sea. Her pink tail swaying behind her.

Your body turns in her direction just in time with Neuvillette. 

“Kiara…” A subtle layer of disapproval emerges from lilac hues.

“Remember to dry off before entering the estate, the floors can become quite dangerous when wet.” 

“But…” the flowers lower. “I wanted to show Madame the lotuses…” 

There’s a drop in her tail and horns and a sharp sting to his chest. Her sisters were gathered around in a circle, a story having just concluded, he could feel their stares upon him. Adding to the sharpness of guilt. 

“My apologies, Kiara, I only meant to warn you.” 

She nods her head silently, tail still dragging on the floor. Ah, just what should he do? A frown begins to weigh down his face. 

“Thank you, they’re wonderful, Kiara.” Your gentle chime breaks through the stalemate. 

You take the bouquet from her mittened hands, placing them atop a counter, in exchange you offer her a towel. 

“But Neuvillette is right, it’s not good to run through the halls right after you returned from the waters. It’s dangerous, okay?” Your voice as gentle as the towel rubbed over her hair and horns. 

A content smile returns to her round cheeks as she diligently nods, promising that she’ll be more careful next time. Tail lifting up from the floor as the fluffy towel wipes away the ocean droplets. 

Once fully dried, she joins her sisters. The Melusines cast shifting glances toward one another until one finally steps out from the crowd. 

“Madame…” Carole calls out softly, tugging a few times the hem of your long dress. 

“Hm?” Giving her your full attention, a towel set aside. 

“I overheard you inquiring about names with Monsieur in the library once, could you be…” Her eyes downcasted. 

Oh. This time it was Neuvillette and you who exchanged glances, eyes both reflecting the same dread.

They weren’t supposed to know. They weren’t supposed to hear those slapdash guesses. 

He never meant for them to find out. Always careful to never discuss such matters in their earshot.

For how could he bear to tell them that their cozy village was actually a prison? 

His mind was unable to conjure up an excuse, tongue unwilling to speak it. They weren’t supposed to find out. Oh, what shall he do now? 

“Could you be expecting?” 

Huh?

Two pairs of eyes widened with bewilderment, mind stunned into silence and lips just as confused.

Somehow they’ve huddled even closer than before, encircling you and him with their bright eyes and tails swaying with anticipation. 

“Will there be a new addition to the village?” 

“How long do we have to wait?” 

“Are we getting a brother or sister?” 

Their chatter and probes homogenized into a jumbled symphony his flustered conscious just couldn’t distinguish. Trying to reel his senses back from this unexpected turn of events. Neuvillette clears his throat. 

“No,” he coughs out. 

A collective ‘aw’ resounds through the air, their tails and horns drooping down at the announcement. Guilt pierced its nail through his chest once more. However, he couldn’t lie to their bright eyes. 

“N-not, yet.” You add to his statement. 

A wave of inquisitive‘oh’ ripples through the crowd. Tails picked up from the ground as the glimmer in their eyes returned.

A sweet lie sprinkled over the truth neither of you dare tell, that blood and water can’t make wine. 

“Then, do you want a little prince or little princess?” Carole chirps. 

You remain silent, only gazing down at their faces as they stare back.

A lilac stare was also focused upon you, his curiosity awakening at this question as well. He watches you take a slow breath before leaning down. 

“I’d like to have a daughter, sweet and kind like all of you.” Your hand strokes her soft trestles. 

Her head nuzzles into your palm as giggles fill the air. Only draconic eyes study the small smile upon your lips, dipped in bittersweetness. 

Did you have a lover back on the surface in this life? Perhaps someone who was promised to you. A real prince this time. 

Did you have dreams of basking in the grace of the sun, cradling a bundle as a pair of tiny fingers encase around your own?

Was this the hard-earned happy ending you yearned for?

“Monsieur…” Mamaere tugs on his slacks. 

Neuvillette reigns his thoughts back from their escapade, he angles his head down. 

“Where does a baby come from?” 

The smile on your lips stiffen just as Neuvillette’s body does.

If there’s a god who’s peering into this cavern deep below the land and sea, must they send such dilemmas his way?

How does one navigate through this treacherous domain?

“Oh dear! I just remembered.” Your hands clap together.

“There’s a few ribbons and clips in the fabric room, do you girls mind getting them? So we can braid Monsieur’s hair?” 

At once the Melusines stand at attention, focus diverted over their excitement at the prospect of decorating snowy locks.

The patters of their little steps trample down the hall, allowing you and Neuvillette a well-deserved moment of reprieve. 

“Thank you.” His posture drops slightly as a hefty sigh leaves him, lids shut for a moment of rest.  

“Of course, Sébastien.” 

His eyes crack open, casting you a glance with a raised brow. The ghost of a grin barely contained by delicate lips. By this time, Neuvillette couldn’t recall all the past attempts. 

“Regrettably, that is not my name.” 

“Was it at least a decent attempt?” 

He could hear the pout in your voice, one that didn’t last long before a light-hearted laugh follows it.

Closing his eyes once more as he indulges in those chimes, he nods ever so slightly. It was a good attempt, for it brought out those sounds he enjoyed. 

His lashes flutter open at the sensation of his hair getting gathered in your tender hold. Passing the carved wooden teeth of a comb through his snowy locks.

Careful to not pull or tug on them as you coaxed the tangles out of their knots. The heaviness upon his shoulders leaves with a deep exhale which left his body, indulging in your attentive touches.

Subconsciously, his gaze trails up at the bundle of flowers resting along the wooden table. It wasn’t the periwinkle blush of the delicate petals that commanded his attention.

No, it was that salty, oceanic wisp mingled with the flora aroma. A fleeting essence of the sea.

“Do you miss the sea?” 

Ah, it seems that his stare wasn’t as subtle as he had hoped. Neuvillette turns away from the flowers as if he had been caught amidst a scheme.

Facing in front of him, your paused hands signal your wait for his response. 

“I suppose it’s only natural for me to long for it.” 

After all these years, Neuvillette believes he has finally grasped it, an answer to that void filled with ‘whys’. As if he had seized the reflection of a star from the bottom of a deep lake.

Neuvillette thinks he understands why you and the devil yearned for the sunlight. 

Perhaps the one similarity between proud dragons and arrogant humans. They both ache to return to where they came from.

One yearns for the sea. One yearns for land.

For there and only there, could their sins and grudges be purged. To gain the most restful sleep before the hands of fate shape them anew from the element.

“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. 

Fingers gentle and slow as they brushed through his hair. You hum a lullaby to accompany each pass of the comb. Melodies that made his ears yearn for more, craving for more sounds to leave your plush lips. 

His hair had always been an inconvenience, capricious strands that were seemly curious of everything in his environment.

Snowy tresses find themselves gravitating towards door hinges, door knobs, and even the minuscule gaps in ornate furniture.

However, your patience hands untangled those unruly stands. 

When a knot proves to be particularly stubborn, you tend to lend closer to hone in on the troublesome tangle. 

It just so happens that a stubborn knot appeared, causing you to decrease the proximity between your bodies.

The heat radiating from your frame sends delightful pickles along his skin, a delicate warmth making his flesh grow feverish. 

A hunger deep within begins to grumble and wallow, a greed that wishes to dig past those frivolous fragrances to get to the true taste he craves.

An ugly gluttony pleading to delve into your soft flesh. Ah, he recognizes the cause of this turbulence now…

Neuvillette clears his throat. 

“I believe I’m beginning to feel unwell, so please refrain from venturing into the cellar for the next few weeks. I should quarantine myself.” Too ashamed to turn back and face you. 

“Oh?...” The comb stops.

At this distance, he was well aware of your scent. A fine fragrance no water or bloom could hope to imitate. Concealed under a layer of lavish soaps and oils dropped from the surface was an aroma that was wholly yours and yours alone. 

A gloved hand reaches up to cover his nostrils, seeking some barrier between that tantalizing whiff. 

“Please, excuse me…” He pulls away swiftly. 

The sudden action must’ve jostled his hair too much, for the sultry sensation of your fingertips was felt along azure ‘strands’. 

Just a minor touch against his horns, yet shudders rack up his nape. His teeth sink into the flesh of his bottom lip, sharper than they’re supposed to be, anchoring those ravenous voices at bay momentarily. 

He needs to leave now. For your sake. 

Rushed strides stow a distance between his body and that delectable warmth of yours. His back turned to you as he couldn’t bear to see the expression upon that saccharine face. 

Just what expression were you making as a dragon retreated?  

The cellar of this estate was always cold, its stones never having once touched the sunlight before, thus they only brood in their frigidity. A somberness fitting to quell a heat which yearned to burn. 

The fever has consumed his body wholly, each pant leaving trails of foggy wisps. Neuvillette burrows deeper into the hoard of sheets, pillows, and blankets. The brush of the soft fabrics prickles his skin. 

How strange it is that despite the fever of heat igniting each corner of his flesh, despite the numerous thick covers twisting and burying his bare form, he’s still shivering. 

A chill ingrained so deep it’s in his very bones, skin alight but bones frozen over, just what is this purgatory? 

Annually it happens, a period where primal instincts exude past the rigid confines of a mortal form. Making its influence in the resurgence of draconic features over the mortal flesh that traps him.

No matter how raw his true form claws to be released, the mortal prison doesn’t relent. A curse he’s brought upon himself.

Laceratations of gluttony and cardinal sin sink deeper with each provocation. The creeks of the floorboards above and the sweet voice which leaked through the woods, the morsels of you that stirred the waters of instinct. 

From the depths of the torrent, he’s so desperately suppressing came the unquenchable thirst to lure you in. Beckon you down to this shadowy cellar so that the ugly and primal waters could swallow you wholly. 

But he mustn’t. Those soft touches and smiles had just been bestowed upon him, the twine of trust still delicate. How could he ever squander such privileges? For those lovely eyes of yours to look at him filled with nothing but fear and disgust, he’d rather be chained down here for the rest of eternity. 

He must endure it for a bit longer, he knows it’ll be over soon. The gale which sweeps through him is slowly lessening its blows. 

Even if the waters of primitive instincts howled and stormed, Neuvillette refused to leave this tangle of blankets and pillows. An unwavering grip refusing to submit to those demands. Thus nature had to find its own way to subsist off a drought. 

The heat hazed over his mind, conjuring up fantasies to appease the ever-unsettled water from its vapid reality.

“Neuvillette?” A soft voice calls out.

Just like now. Desire fogs up his senses to create a delusion, mimicking the way your warm voice beckons him. It’s nothing but a figment of his depraved lust. 

“Neuvillette?” 

He buries his ears further into the down covers to block the alluring mirages. Tickling him to submit to the temptation. But he mustn’t. Nothing more than a manifestation of lust. 

 The phantom donning your sweet voice calls out for him, and gentle touches send shivers through his nerves. Ah, he must vanquish this mirage before the fraying line of his self-restraint splinters apart. 

Nothing but smoke and mirrors conjured by desire, a rigid arm expels out from the covers to dissipate the siren’s lure. 

However, it wraps around something warm, a heat which his fever wails for. Intrinsically his shivering body covets that warmth, to be buried flush against the source so that this chill may finally stop its torment. 

So like any greedy dragon, his claws enclose around temptation and drag it into his decrepit cave of blankets and sheets. 

A satisfied purr judders through his stalwart body, a warmth which could finally reach his very bones. Thus, he burrows his face deeper into the shoulder of this phantom, a lovely aroma beckoning him to pull their soft body closer. 

“Neuvillette?…” 

His eyes snap open, realization flooding through him just as the chill that had been ingrained into his bones. This wasn’t an illusion. You weren’t an illusion. 

He tears himself away, just as a moth does once they realize a hypnotic flame had set their wings alight. Trembly arms firmly planted on either side of your body, snowy locks falling onto your face. 

“Are you alright?...” The sapphire luminance of his elongated horns shines across those sinless eyes. 

The strap of a nightgown halfway down your shoulder from when he snatched you beneath his savage form. 

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he breathes, voice unsteady and taut. 

“You’ve been away for an awfully long time… I-” Your eyes were blown wide and lips pressed together, aghast gaze not daring to glance down at the raging rigidness pressed against the silk of your nightgown. 

Frenzied shivers of pleasure jostles through his veins, tremors racking his body all the way to the tips of his horns. In desperation his rigidnesses pleaded to feel you, throbbing so painfully a hiss leaves his lips.

“You need to leave, quickly please.” Leave before he traps you again.

 Before this pathetic excuse of a sovereign loses against himself, before he makes a fool of himself. Neuvillette tries to pull away, against the weeping wishes of his erections. Face too ashamed to even look at you, but a pair of tender hands guides his cheeks back.

“...But I missed you…” You whisper. 

Why are your hands embracing his face in this unsightly state? Are they not appalled by the patches of scales littered across them? Like a flame reaching out towards a moth. 

“Leave, please.” Don’t tempt him like this. 

“... Don’t you miss me?...” Your hold doesn’t budge.

Why do you look at him like that? Irises filled with warmth as his image is reflected in the flickering candlelight. Gazing wholly up at him. A cerulean glow tinting your hair and supple body. 

“Don’t…” He reasons, the last of his sensibility crying a warning of a sinful fruit. 

“Please, Neuvillette… won’t you hold me for just a bit? I missed you so much….” The shift of your shoulder causes the nightgown to slip further off your shoulder. 

Don’t call out to him like that. No, not as your bewitching body was so close to his. The glow of a candle illuminating the curve of your cheeks, disheveled hair framing your wide eyes. 

Don’t show him such a sight, for he’ll salivate to devour you until his teeth rot.

“Please?...” Coaxing his head down so that his forehead rests against yours. 

Your warmth, your soft touches, and your delectable aroma, they parch his throat so much it pained him. Just as painful as attempting to swallow down sand from a hellish desert, it aches and lacerates his throat. 

And here you were offering a lustrous fruit, so juicy and filled of sin, in front of his famished eyes. A cruel, cruel mercy. 

“... May…May I?” It’s unbearable, this parchedness in his throat, would you be so kind to quench it? 

Your sweet hum grants him permission. Eyes closed just as you turn a blind eye to his ravenousness, still stroking his tender cheeks. Neuvillette couldn’t deny himself any more of the warmth he’s coveted for oh so long. 

Thus, he delves head-first into the glimmer of that enchanting flame. Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, so vulnerable and complacent, to hoard your bewitching fragrance all for himself. His skin flushed against yours as his bones delight in your heat. 

The reigns of self-respect slip out from his hands as they let go in favor of running along your curves and edges. Each feature, your shoulders, and hips, aligns with details he’s long ingrained into his memory.

His fervor touches pushing down the silk fabric which dare disturb his worship. Nevuillette cants his head up momentarily, puffs of smothering breaths clouding the frosty air. 

Lilac eyes drink up how the chilly air made your delectable breast perky, trailing down the goosebumps lining your torso, and landing on your exposed thighs.

A dryness itches in his throat as callused hands bite into the tender skin and he parts those placid legs away. 

Oh, how could one ever take their eyes off that shiny, succulent fruit held out so openly in the hands of the tempter of all tempters?

They reveal to him the oasis he’d been hallucinating these grueling weeks. The tip of a serpentine tongue slips across his parched lips.

Since you so brazenly offered your body up to him, you wouldn’t have any objects against him finally getting a taste, right? 

His foreboding figure traverses downwards until his delirious face is right between the cusp of his salvation and demise.

Dilated pupils peering up at you for approval, an invocation for clemency from this drought. A merciful hand graces his cheeks once more, granting him his salvation and demise. 

His tongue escapes past his parched lips, as lengthy as it was insatiable, it licks a slow and passionate strip up your slit. A taste he once would only recount in the depths of his recollections. 

Does this new body of yours still have the same weaknesses? Will you still writhe in madness if he sucks on that delectable little nub? Or how about those hidden points concealed deep within?

Could this tongue of his bring you past the brink of insanity in this life as well?

There was only one way for Neuvillette to grasp the answers he sought. A long tongue slips past the entrance of your satin walls, welcomed with a lewd squelch. 

Grip parting your legs from his path further. Those quivering calls of ‘Neuvillette’and the pawing of your small hands against his head beckon him deeper. 

Ah, redemption, it’s far too late for him now. For Nevillette has taken a bite out from that forbidden fruit, the evidence of it was dripping down his chin. 

Ah, these slick velvety walls, he missed them. They clamp down with such ferocity along this beastly tongue, extensive enough to reach the deepest cavern of you.

A divine nectar begins to pool, Neuvillette retracts his tongue just enough for the heavenly taste to slide down his throat. Your sweet musk sends his olfactory system into chaos, rampant tongue returning to ravish you.

Not one drop of restraint left within him. It’s beastly how he’s devouring you. His tongue craves more of the delicacy he’s denied himself these past years, a thirst no water could quench. Wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit in a meticulous long lap, his nose bumping into your clit. 

Your mewls and sobs echo off the walls when he flicks his tongue over that sensitive nub. Your body jolts violently as the length of his tongue ventures into the honeypot, toes curling in the air, but his iron-clad grip doesn’t allow any room for escape.

Delicate fingers now entangled into his tussled locks, grasping onto illuminated horns. You were likely trying to find something to ground your dissipating sanity, how unfortunate that your actions only flamed the fires. 

A guttural growl echoed. Tongue now plunging further, slithering back and forth along your walls. For being such a sweet sacrifice for him, he’ll give a reward. Slithering tongue making sure to drag against that spot he’s memorized.

Judging from how your feet were arching off the sheets, it seems this sinful detail of yours was repeated as well. 

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls, your body twitching and flailing in reaction.

Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

He could feel your muscles begin to seize up, slick walls clamping harder on his writhing tongue. Was this foreign sensation too much for you already?

His long tongue explores every last crevice, tastebuds lapping against those weak spots deep within as his nose bumps and grinds against that lewd clit. This unsightly side of you. 

There’s more fervor in the lashes of his tongue, slurping up the nectar trickling out your greed, mixing with his spit dripping down his chin.

Your legs trashing but unable to go anywhere in his unrelenting hold, only able to pull on his silky locks for dear life as sobs tumble out. A flood of arousal adds to the mess on his chin. One he gladly laps up. 

Oh’s and ah’s were the only choked sounds your lips could make as your eyes rolled to the back of your scrambled mind.

Neuvillette still relishing in the elixir he’s denied himself for too long, not even the purest water could compare. Reveling in the taste until every last drip ran down his parched throat. 

Pulling away, a trail connects his lips with your quivering folds.  Callous hands dig further into your legs, making room for his body. Watching as the movements of your chest slowed, his brute figure engulfed your frame.

The ache was unbearable now, each impatient throb reprimanding him for delaying their greed. Neuvillette couldn’t deny their request any longer.

Back sitting up straight, his cocks thrumming against his abdomen, precum exuding out from their swollen heads.  

The cool air did little to calm the throbs of his fervors, the girthy shaft standing tall as its engorged tip weeped precum, its twin weeping just the same.

They hover over the softness of your belly, sharp pupils trail up the shadow they cast, heralding to where they crave to be buried. 

The heat of his body was suffocating, the burn in his throat greater than ever before. But why? He had drank from that forbidden oasis, it’s dripping down his chin, yet why has his thirst grown greater than before? 

Neuvillette was so… so close. If he had only endured it for another day or two, the gale within him would’ve relented and retreated away in defeat. But oh how viciously it’s gloating in its victory. Getting a dragon to bow his head to its cardinal blows. 

“Do you… feel better now, Neuvillette?” Slow pants leave your curled lips as your hands reach up to caress his taut face. 

This brazenness, this shamelessness, this insolence. Ah, these characteristics have followed you through the grave and into this life as well. You weren’t skilled enough this time around to hide your desire glazed across your pupils. 

Did you do this in hopes of making him indebted to you? Offer your sweet body in return for stealing his name from his locked lips? Was this why you traversed down to this dark cellar so late in such flimsy silks?

That gleam in those deceptive eyes, the audacity to believe you could tame the sea with just a flick of your finger. You devious temptress. 

“Better?… you’ve only fanned the flames, you devious woman.” A snarl from the depths of him. 

Before another word could leave your lips one torrid hand pins your wrist to the sheets. Nails much too sharp to be human dig into those fickle and troublesome fabrics hiding your skin from his touch.

An all too satisfying rip resounding through the air along with your yelp. Scraps join the tangle of sheets. 

Did his mortal prison deceive you too much? Did his mild mannerisms trick you into believing that he’s a merciful soul? Or did you always ignore the warnings?

A monster with a human face is still a monster. To believe that one’s patience is endless, only a human could be this impertinent.

His other vascular hand slides down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs hook behind his firm thighs. The ridges of his lower cock drag against your slick folds, wetting his girth from its leaking tip sliding down against your swollen clit. 

Precum mixes with the concoction as the glossiness spreads about his length. A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Neuvillette positions his engorged tip at your dripping entrance.

The sensation must’ve cleared the daze from your mind, your head cants downwards to stare at the two oddities. 

“A-are both of them going to…” Your grip tightens on the sheets, a subconscious search for comfort. 

Ah, now you remember danger. Now you realize your insolence to believe that a mere human could ever tame a proud dragon. 

“There won’t be any point in breaking you so quickly,” he snarls. Not missing the flutter of your hole as the weeping head dragged over it. It wouldn’t be good to break you so quickly. His sweet little sacrifice. 

Taking the erection which hung lower, he rubs its flushed tip along your slit. Each flinch and tremble sparked gratification through his veins.

The lashes of his tongue had aided in the preparation of these sinful walls, but the girth of his beastly tongue could not compare to the thickness pressed against these leaking folds.

The ghost of his breath flutters over your prickling skin. Neuvillette takes deeper breaths as the weight pressed against your core grew, the bulbous tip inching past the puckering entrance.

The stretch was maddening despite the restrained pace. Your walls fluctuate in a surging dance between clamping down and trying to remain relaxed.

As Neuvillette sinks his girth in bit by bit, its envious twin slithers against your aching clit. The sensitive bundle of nerves drags against each ridge and vein, sending jolts of searing pleasure through him and causing your satin walls to flutter. 

A velvety sack kisses against your slick folds, signaling that his length has reached its end. The fat tip of its twin resting just above your naval indicated just how deeply he was buried, trapped between your soft flesh and his sculpted body.

It’s crowded inside you, girth parting and stretching these satin walls while the length is pressed against the deepest most intimate part of you.

Forcing delectable little whimpers and gasps from your haughty lips. Quivering legs now locking ankles behind his back, like a pitiable attempt to hamper him. 

That arrogance disgraced to nothing but obscenity upon a wanton face. To see the devil so helpless and lewd under the manipulation of a dragon. What a wonderful sight. 

Surely your body remembers his. If not, then he’ll ensure it does now, he’ll engrain it into you for the next life. 

One cock slid against the satin ridges of your walls, the other indulging along your searing skin and grinding against your clit. He can’t deny how addictive your body always has been. 

Dragging as far back as your locked legs would allow him, the flushed head of one dick kisses your twitching clit, and he sinks back in.

Grunts and purrs reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open. 

His pace is methodical and controlled to his liking. Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge.

Each time making your core empty and yearning to clench around his girth. Just as a whine would leave your drooling lips, his hips would return to you what your core longed for. 

Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. Back and forth, back and forth the resounding slaps echoed. Mingling with his low groans and your pitched gasps, creating a sacrilegious yet divine hymn.

Your hand rakes deeper into his toned back possessed by desperation.

A few snowy strands are trapped between your writhing fingers. Pulling him closer to your smoldering skin, causing your clit to grind intensely against his swollen cock, as its twin twitches within your velvety folds.

Those babbles falling from your fed lips, were they pleas for him to bestow upon you leniency or begging him to speed up? 

“Do you wish to climax?” A polite façade purrs into your ear. 

Lilac eyes were not ignorant to how a devil keens under his body, her gaze drunk off a feverish potion of lust and desire. He could feel it, these velvet walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming ache within you. 

“That’s too bad.”

 His hips remain steady contrasting against the unevenness of your own pants, unaffected by your desperate mewls. You’ve been selfish enough, you’ve been greedy enough. If he were to grant you a taste of ecstasy, then it’ll be on his terms. 

He hasn’t gotten his fill yet, no, he wants to pound his shape forever into these lewd walls. The way they contract and squeeze around his girth with each drive of his hips, they’re practically begging him to.

Thus, he accelerates just a bit more, then a bit more, then a bit more again. Nearly folding you with how flushed he was against you. 

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into a spark. One which set the both of you ablaze. Your nails digging into his skin and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent prattles resound through the room.

Your devious walls clamped around his length with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling to guide his throbbing head to your deepest greed. It was too much.

Neuvillette was powerless as his body pressed yours deeper into the damp sheets, trying to grasp onto any fleeting wisps of control as euphoria overtook him. 

Sinking his ravenous teeth into the tangle of the sheets beside your neck, he stifles the admission of his defeat. 

A heftiness is spilled within your walls and paints the expanse of your skin in an all-consuming wave. Thick release coating every corner of your core, to finally quell that ravaging heat.

Each subsequent twitch pours more into your crowded cavity and stains your skin. The filthiness of it all seemingly prolongs your sinful depravity. 

Chest expanding with pants, pressing your erected nipples against his taut chest. Neuvillette remains buried against you, brutish arms holding your body flush against his.

As if to anchor you, to not allow the turbulent waves of madness to sweep you far from him, or him from you. Keeping your quiver body safe against his. 

In the darkness behind his shut lashes, he felt it. Your soft caresses his silky tresses and heaving body. Even as your body heaves and quivers in exhaustion, why must you touch him so tenderly?

Why must you be so cruel? If your hands keep caressing his clammy skin, stroking his peeking scales, he’ll misunderstand.

He’ll believe the delusion that you love him.

Him and not the swaying flower fields of the sunkissed surface. 

Whispers cut through the haze of lust and passion, warnings crying for Neuvillette to escape. So he pulls his face from the tangle of sheets, lungs huffing as his eyes find yours.

Exhaustion muddles the hues of your gaze, but not enough to completely smother that glimmer still present. Ah, he knows that that glimmer was. 

Even in his heat-induced daze, he’s not naive enough to believe the sincerity presented in your eyes was anything other than duty.

He doesn’t want to be reminded that those hands, which cup his face with such tenderness, are bound by a sense of duty.

A reminder that he’s merely just a stepping stone on the path of your true desire.

He doesn’t want to see it. 

The head of his cock parting with a deafening squelch. A darkened gaze follows the pool forming between your splayed legs. Disgruntlement muddles lilac hues. 

But such discontent couldn’t last long when the twitch of a neglected length protests. Its bulbous tip longed for its turn within those sticky walls. A primal ordinance he couldn’t resist.

What to call this sensation, to scorn yet desire you just as much. 

It wasn’t long before your hips were maneuvered up, your plush ass now up in the air as your quivering arms and face pressed into the sullied sheets.

As one hand supports your unsteady hips. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your cunt, glistening with temptation and dripping with sin. 

Hooked fingers slides up the weeping slit, collecting the sacrilegious mixture. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Spreading them in front of his gaze, tracing over the stringy nectar stretched between them. 

How strange, those lying lips of yours whimper for ‘rest’ and a ‘moment to catch your breath’. Yet your body is still so eagerly exposing itself to his eyes, agape cunt so eagerly twitching and slick. 

You don’t even try to writhe yourself away from his hold, not even a single attempt to hide yourself from his hunger.

How skilled you are at fanning the flames, perhaps it's a talent inherent to devils like you. The tempter of all tempters. 

You’ve always been like this since the very first rendition. 

If only you weren’t so strong-willed. If only you weren’t so clever to trick him. If only you weren’t so enchanting. 

Then he wouldn’t have bent to your whims, the sea would’ve cleansed out the mortal filth from stolen land. Then he wouldn’t be trapped in this disgrace of a body. Then he wouldn’t be in love with you.

The betrayal, the disgrace, and this punishment would’ve never happened if only a fool didn’t surrender everything for a mere, fleeting creature.

Why must you make him repeat the same mistake again?

There it was again, that surging torrent within him making its voice known in the echoes of his mind. Whispering the hint on how a dragon would defeat the flame that had scorched him those years ago.

Smother the flame with the tides of depravity and vulgarity. Taint your arrogance with shame. 

There wasn’t an ounce of gentleness remaining within his eyes, a beastly hunger taking its place.

Yes, you must pay the debt of reducing him to such a humiliating state.

His neglected cock prods against that greedy cunt of yours. Unmerciful hands bruising the plushness of your hips. 

The sinful concoction from the previous sessions allowed his tormented length into your walls without resistance.

The neglected cock finally indulging in the spasms of your abused walls, it’s its turn to bully those weak spots with its thick head. 

Sobs sung in broken chokes leave your drooling lips. Trembling fingers enmeshed into the fabric as if to find some ground for your senses to land after their fall from euphoria.

He won’t allow you reprieve. No, not even for a moment. He’ll shatter your sanity and arrogance once and for all. 

Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through overstimulation, heavy balls slamming against your swollen lips.

The previous twin cock was now experiencing the hard nub of your engorged clit running along its veins and ridges. 

There’s no room for an exchange of words. No, the two of you have long been pasted that point.

No sandy ground beneath as the two of you sank under the ravenous tides of primal instincts and pleasure.

Cacophonous growls, whimpers, and sobs filling the absence along with the thwacks of skin against skin echoed back from the cellar walls. 

You keen under the ram of his hips, jostled head writhing against the soiled sheets. The motion allows your hair to fall over your shoulders.

Exposing an untainted patch of skin. Sharp pupils watching how beads of sweat trailing down your nape reflect the azure glow of his body. 

An itch assailing his fangs even has his hips continue their barrage against your soft ass. Those lovely vulgar moans wane out from his hearing as his senses could only obsess over the untarnished expanse. 

Ah, what if there’s a way for him to pin you here until the stars themselves burn out? You were given to him as his bride.

An offering made to him.

So why can’t he forever confine you within his clutches? Just as you were the original sin which damned him to this cove.

Long tongue dragging along the fresh skin, feeling the jolts of your body. 

He’s done it once before, he’s cursed you before. Imprinting a curse upon your very soul, one which followed you through the hands of death and even when the hands of life reformed your body from the earth.

Why not renew it? 

Neuvillette pins your upper body further into the tangled bedding, one hand abandoning your hips in favor of raveling in the mess of fabric.

Your heated skin felt against his exhilarated fangs, hungry to sink into your nape. 

‘Till death do us part’, that’s not enough.

Such fleeting mortal oaths are much too meek for dragons.

No, those atrocious murmurs in his thoughts command him to curse you in the next life. And the next one, and the one after that as well. 

It’s not like your muddled head would understand, nothing but mindless prattles and mewls from the suffocating pleasure only he could ever give you.

But that’s fine, just drown nicely in lust and desire. He’ll always be waiting there at the bottom to drag you down deeper. 

Just as the tips of his pointed teeth broke through quivering skin, delicate fingers grasp upon a burly hand.

Intertwining their grasp together upon rumpled linen, a subconscious search for comfort.

An action that remits an iota of reason back to his foggy mind, hazy eyes moving toward the sight of your hand clutched around his. 

Even as he’s ravishing your weeping walls, flooding your body with his filthy essence which trickles down your thighs and ass, and chasing his own carnal needs… you still reach for him.

Shamelessly pulling his touch closer, even when the throes of rapture banished all thought from your jostled mind. 

A whisper resurfaces amidst the fog and clamor of instinct and rage.

However, it’s a whisper which made his incisors dare not budge another inch. The inkling of truth which he thought he had silenced within the depths of his heart. 

The accuracy that this wasn’t love. No, what his instincts craved was not love, it was obsession. 

For love was not this sadistic possession, not to curse you just to ease his own damnation.

No, love is supposed to be much like the warmth of your palm flushed against his knuckles. 

He remembers now, the lesson you taught him all those years ago. A demonstration witnessed with his own eyes.

Love was sacrifice, just as how you offered yourself to the tides, quelling the rage of a vengeful dragon. Because you loved your village too much to allow them to drown. 

Retreating away from the transgression almost committed, fangs repressed behind closed lips. Neuvillette presses a sweet kiss against the shallow wound.

 To love you isn’t to steal you away from the embrace of the star who’s forsaken him. It’s to hoist you up to that beloved sunlight. Just where you belonged. 

Oh, how could he not love you?

The bride offered to a dragon in a white dress who once dared to command the great beast to stand still as she braided flowers into his hair.

A brazenness contrasted with the gentleness of her smile. 

The voices of heart and cruelty rang out in vociferous battle in his mind, Neuvillette buries his face into your shoulder. Pursuing the savor of your skin, pinning you deeper into the tangle of bedding.

Providing more simulation for the pulsing cock wedged against your swollen clit and messy sheets. The neediness of his movements exposed just how close his undoing was. 

The hand on your abdomen pulled you impossibly close, adding pressure to the bulging outline of his cock.

Amplifying the ecstasy coursing through your veins, abused walls clamping down on each ridge and each vein of his heft girth. The shape engrained into your wanton core, marvelous sobs and mewls echoing off the empty walls. 

Soon those moans become shattered in your throat, eyes rolling back further with each heavy thrust and slap of his balls. Lungs cease all function as rapture unravels you wholly and exhilaration becomes your undoing. 

Sloppy contractions mix the repercussions of multitudinous ruination, dripping out your convulsing cunt. Just before a hot surge replenishes the brood that oozed out on the sullied sheets.

Grunts vibrate against your back reminding your body to breathe. 

Thick ropes paint your belly and sheets, making an absolute mess. Contracting walls trying but failing to contain the aftershocks from his cock buried deep within, already stretched to their limits, capacity long exceeded. Shudders rack your body and his the same. 

With hands still entangled, he coaxes your body around. Granting him a mesmerizing view of your debauched face.

The face he’s so enamored with that he bows his down closer, bodies still connected as he wishes to echt every last detail of you into his being. So that eternity may remember you. 

Softness resurfaces in his bones, a tender kiss pressed upon your fingers. Soothing those tremors as he guides your consciousness back to reality. 

He holds you, remaining inside as to contain his greed spilled deep inside. The heftiness of his cock prods against your shuddering walls. Every last fiber of your being overstimulated with pulsing pleasure. 

Yet, your hand refused to let go. Still holding him toward your exhausted figure in the dying light of the candle.

Whimpers and coos exchanging in a duet of devotion, a hymn so placate it quells the vapid torrents ever so slightly.

Placid fingers drawing circles into your sore back. A gentle lilac gaze keeping watch as your teary eyes retire behind heavy lashes. 

Blood and water no matter how much they’re mixed, won’t produce wine.

However, just for tonight in a realm heavy with lust, passion, and phantasm, they’ll craft a wine of delusion. One filled with nothing but wishful fantasy. 

However, this wine of delusion shall be enough to quench the thirst of lascivious compulsions and vengeance. 

The gentle caresses of steam ghost past your leaden lashes, lukewarm ripples lap against your skin. Your sore body propped up against the porcelain, as Neuvillette drags a dampened towel along your skin. 

A pang of guilt stung him each time the cloth passed over a discolored imprint. No amount of diligent rubs would purify your skin of those bruises in the shape of his fingers. 

A stir from muscle gradually awakening from slumber reflected in the wavelets of the bath. The sensation of a damp towel must’ve further jolted your senses back to alertness. 

A cerulean glow glistens off the polished surface as your vision finally centers on the figure rising warm water over your limp body.

Attentive eyes immediately connect with yours as he scans your expression for discomfort. 

“Are you hurting anywhere?” Neuvillette halts the towel. 

You respond with a slow shake, your throat must be too sore to answer. Despite how he tries to conceal them behind a robe, blotches of azure painted along his fair skin.

Proof that draconic influence was still in rebellion of his body. All the while he’s very much aware of your eye’s every move. What an appalling sight it must be for you. 

“If I make you uncomfortable I’ll leave promptly, this was just the only solution I could find to bathe-”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Voice hoarse as your frame melts closer to his, delicate fingers intertwining with between the spaces of his own scaly fingers.

Allowing your breaths to minge in tandem in the steam-damped tiles of the tranquil bathroom. 

“Does it hurt?” A warm thumb traces soft circles along the rough scales along his hand. 

Did you catch the subtle twitches and jolts of his muscles? A mortal body rejecting draconic influences, draconic influences revolting against a mortal cage. Still, he shakes his head. Lilac gaze watching your eyes trail between the scales and his eyes with skepticism. 

“I’m not quite sure as to why I’m still in this… state.” Neuvillette gives a preemptive answer to the question he assumes to be hanging off your tongue. 

“Do you… miss the sea?” However, it seems you had another inquiry hidden in your ever perplexing mind. 

A deep sigh resonates through the tranquil air. He stares at the tips of his fingers dipped into the warm water, a taunting substitute for the sea that called for him. 

“I suppose it’s natural that I yearn for it…”

A hum was your only response, eyes hidden behind closed lashes. Neuvillette just couldn’t decipher that smile of yours, curled lips reflected over the rippling surface of the steaming water. 

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

“Your body is still delicate, please let us return back to the estate-”

“I might actually grow roots into that bed if I’m to rest there any longer.” A pout was evident in your voice. 

Taking a few greater strides, your body pulls in front of Neuvillette’s pace. It was only momentary of course, for he swiftly rejoins your side.

Observant eyes not missing the subtle wobble in your steps along the pastures of the village.

“Please just don’t stray too far.” He relents, offering up his arm for support. 

With a gracious smile, your arm curls around his, interlocking your fingers with his as two pairs of steps ambled along the grass.

Soon a familiar pool of water came into view, enticing two pairs of eyes with its glimmering ripples.

What it strange sight those waters showed, a cursed dragon who yearned for his place and a cursed mortal who longed for the sun, two cursed beings holding hands in the reflection along the pristine surface. 

“I believe this is far enough. ” His arm pulls your frame closer, a subtle hesitance tainting his tone. 

However, your body didn’t budge. Resolute stance not moving even one bit watching your reflection warp and contort in the water. A deep breath echoes off the wall. 

“Neuvillette… do you miss the sea?” Your stare parts with the water, now peering straight into his lilac hues. 

‘Do you miss the sea?’ You’ve asked him this question many times. He's always given a composite response, but maybe his flowery words diluted the meaning too much to your ears. 

“Yes, I do miss the sea.” His candid yearning. 

There was a question his lips didn’t dare ask, ‘Do you miss the sun?’, Neuvillette wanted to riposte your questions with this question of his.

But he knew it would be pointless, for he already knew the answer. Wordlessly written all over your melancholic stare into the pond, the longing to return to the sun, to be with blood and not water. 

To love you, would be to hoist you up to where you longed to be, in the embrace of the warm sun. Neuvillette had thought he made up his resolve long ago.

However, would it be too selfish of him to wish to turn back?

To convince you to back into the tranquil estate where the Melusines await your return with those dishes you taught them how to cook.

Or maybe would at least try on those gowns still untouched? Could you wait until all those books in the library were read through by your sweet voice?

Would you be oh so kind enough to hold his hand just for a moment longer? At the very least, would you allow him to memorize your warmth? 

His grip on your hands tightens ever so briefly, a shaky breath trembles in his chest before he releases it along with the tension in his fingers.

No, it wouldn’t be fair to stall any longer, you deserve your happy ending. 

Calmly, the dragon bows his head closer to yours. Ignoring the aggrieved voices that cried for him to swallow back to secret just about to spill from his tongue.

The ending of this tale won’t ever change, for a dragon is just as foolish as he was before. 

“My true name is-!” His voice was stunned as a pair of soft lips silenced him. 

Your lips pressed against his own, forcing back the secret. His bewildered eyes hone in upon your face, but your lashes were shut as your hands pull his face closer. The resolve wanes from his bones as he sinks into your embrace. 

As your lips pull away, gasping for breath. He places his hands atop yours, searching your face for an answer. All he got was that indecipherable smile. 

Pulling his face down closer to yours again, your lips find themselves right next to his pointed ears. Under a faint breath which left your parted lips came the secret he kept locked away.

Since when? When did you find his name? Or… did you know this whole time? 

Neuvillette reels back in the embrace of your cruel hands. Lilac eyes stare deep into yours, peering through the cracks in that enchanting façade of yours. 

Ah, this whole time, did he not discover the false innocence in the irises of the deceptor of all deceptors? 

A foolish moth fell for the deception of a devil once again, flying to the flicker of a candle until his wings were charred off into ash.

Those sentences written upon parchment weren’t lies, all other monsters fall secondary to the devil. Even a dragon. 

“Why?” Was all he could muster, oh cruel devil why did you play him a fool once more?

“Because I wanted to see you again… but I knew you wouldn’t quite share the same sentiment since the moment I heard your voice… so I lied,” Those audacious eyes of yours never looked away. 

Ah, how could he forget how crafty and observant a devil is with her schemes? The charming enchantment as she performs her deceptions. Speaking shameless lies with those bewitching lips.

“If you wanted to see me… then that day at the loch… why weren’t you there?” The stir of the torrent within put a snarl into his throat.

Why must you keep lying to him? 

Ah, from the start, Neuvillette should’ve listened to the clamorous cries of his instincts. To withdraw away from the flame, to extinguish the hell fires before they left another lesson learned upon his skin.

Yet, he’s still within the embrace of your cruel hands. His body just wouldn’t pull away. 

Just what is this level of stupidity called? For a moth to still crave the warmth of the flame which charred its wings into ash. Just what is this lunacy called? 

“The nobles locked me away after those tyrants stole your name from my tongue, they locked me away.” Torment brewing in those irises which reflected him. 

A chill staggers the surge of the torrent, an icy sting which stupefied the rampaging currents.

For generations upon generations of scribes and poets never penned this detail down in any rendition of a classically beloved tale. 

“I begged them, I banged against the bars of the cell, even clawed at the stone walls until my fingers were raw, but they left me there to rot in the cold… I just wanted to see you one last time, just once more.” Those bitter pools formed in your penitent eyes spill over. 

This wasn’t how the tale was supposed to end. The maiden, who deceived a dragon for her people, was supposed to be hailed a hero. You were supposed to have a happy ending, so why didn't you get that? 

“All I ever wanted was for you and me to walk amongst humanity… look where that got us…” Tears descend from your cheeks and onto the grass below, a humorless chuckle. 

Was this another lie falling from those saccharine lips of yours? Sugar dusted on the shell of a vile trick? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore. 

“That foolish wish of mine… it must’ve been so painful. I’m so sorry.” Your thumb traces over the scales dotted over his cheek, evidence of a draconic rebellion against a mortal condemnation. 

Does your touch scorn or soothe him? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll say sorry one thousand times if you wish.” A tremor in your voice.

The surge within him couldn’t sustain itself, faltering and receding back to a placid, pathetic ripple. Perhaps… It's tired.

Tired of holding onto this futile grudge. Not when the bitter answers its tides were ravenous for had finally sunk in. 

He takes a deep breath, collecting his resolve. 

“...what… what do you wish for?” Just how will this rendition end? Neuvillette doesn’t know. 

But he knows his hands should hold onto yours, desperately etching the details of your tender touch into its memory. Rations to sustain him for the rest of a solitary eternity. 

He hears your slow inhale, preparing your throat to speak your selfish desires. 

“I wish for your curses to become mine alone to bear.” You reveal your selfish wish, pressing the voucher of freedom into his hands. 

He had that look on his face again. Disbelief stupefied each muscle of his dashing face, wide eyes peering into yours trying to find the hint of a jest. Your gaze doesn’t waiver as your finger tightens around his. 

“Grant me my wish… please.” Lips stretching with a reassuring smile.

His lips press into a thin line, face returning to its place between your warm hands, he takes a deep breath. Perhaps it’s just his sense of responsibility and fairness that compelled him to fulfill this wish. 

Or maybe, the dragon just couldn’t help but submit to the whims of his beloved, a statement that remained no matter what rendition of the tale it was.  

Releasing the breath he held, the shift in the air was palpable, a lightness in his chest. The pond off to the side billows momentarily, drawing focus toward its excited ripples.

Releasing his hold, feet leading him to the side of the saltwater before his mind could process his own actions. 

He could hear it again, the hymns of the water singing the end of his exile. Reaching out a hand, it sinks past the cool surface, the tides welcoming back their prince with mellow kisses. 

The ocean calls for him, so why is he still staring back at you? The one who’ll never embrace the sea again for the rest of her life, nor ever feel the sway of Summer days in a field full of Pluie Lotus. His eyes conveyed a question his lips couldn’t bear to ask. Thus, you give the answer he seeks. 

 “Think of it as my reparations to you, an overdue apology for my mistake, for making you to suffer so much.” That glimmer in your eyes, one he understands now. 

Moving the hex to a body whose true master was the mistress of time, a body blessed with mortality. If a miracle isn’t enough to make a curse break, then perhaps the tides of time could. 

Taking a piece of the curse with each tick of a clock, just like how the waves take with it grains of sand from warm beaches. 

Once a withered mortal body is called back to the earth, the clauses will be fulfilled after many centuries. Unsettled grudges eroded away like those sandy banks. 

Until the pull of the ground makes its visible influence on your skin. Until your locks come to resemble the snowy shade you’ve lovingly run your fingers through. Until the sweet earth hums for you to embrace it once more, you shall remain here. 

What a clever scheme it all is, a masterful plan which could only ever be conjured by you. You devil, oh so devious, devil. 

“You can hate me, I won't hold it against you,” you whisper. “May this tale end in your happiness, let me do this much for you.”

A bitter bile festers at those lies of yours. How could such lies fall from your lips so easily when they always left such a vile taste upon his tongue?

Gaze honed in upon your frame, watching the gentle smile hold back the slight quiver of your shoulders. He stands back up, slow strides returning him to your side. Taking your hands into his larger ones, placing your soft touch back along his cheeks. 

“Silence… I won’t hear such deceit.” Snowy locks brushing against your fingertips.

“But I wasn’t lying…” Confusion furrows your brow, but your hands remain cupping his face.

Moving away, he studies the rivulets of regret and anguish that leave bitter trails down your cheeks. He swallows back the objections clawing up his throat, such vile words don’t belong on your tongue. 

“How could I hate you?” he confesses. 

Neuvillette has finally come to a realization. All those renditions, all those differing retellings of a classic tale. He had read them all wrong, basis clouding his interpretation. 

For the princess did love her dragon. Just as he loved her, all this time. 

Together in the depths of a cave away from the prying eyes of the divine. Breaths in time with one another as they stand in the embrace of one another, until the dragon bows his head back down.

Touching his forehead to hers, so that maybe Neuvillette could get a glimpse into that ever mystical mind of yours. 

“How can I ever hate what I’ve coveted for so long?” He asks. 

That ever-stirring torrent, that spiteful surge, where did it go? Those clamorous voices with their vengeful snarls and cynical bellows, why weren’t they intrepid enough to direct those foul words toward you? 

Not you, never you. How could they ever hate you, the heroine of a Fontainian fairytale they’ve pitifully yearned for so long? 

“Am… am I loved then?” Your lashes were squeezed shut as if death was rapping upon them. Too cowardly to face the verdict. 

“Yes… yes, you devious devil…” Neuvillette couldn’t help but chuckle at such an endearing sight.

He feels your fingers tense around his skin, astonishment in the features of your face. It soon melts away into those welling pools as a smile pushes against the corners of your eyes. 

Pressing your forehead to his, a warm droplet rolls down your cheek and over the curve of your lips. He simply rests his head against yours.

Only now in the last sentence of this retelling of a tale which has been twisted, distorted, and embellished away from the initial narrative did an unwritten truth emerge. 

A clever maiden was just as foolish as a proud dragon. The weight of their foolishness was so great it dragged them beneath the waves and kept them in a cove deep away from the prying eyes of gods. 

However, if this idiotic dragon could intertwine his fingers with yours. If he could be by your side until the hands of time call you back to the earth in this final rendition. 

If he could be the happy ending you deserved, then he wouldn’t mind in the slightest. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[ariestrxsh]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, fluff, innocence corruption, religious/purity kink, masturbation, dry humping, mommy kink, use of sex toys, sub!virgin!matt, experienced!pervy!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 author's note: the whole basis of this series is that matt is a pure little christian boy whose innocence gets corrupted by his dommy mommy neighbor, and it may offend you if you're religious, so please don't read if it's going to upset you! 💖 here are parts one and two. enjoy!

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: while beginning to open up to you and trust you more, matt decides to loosen his morals and test the waters with you, exploring the sacrilegious world of mind-altering substances and pre-marital sex.

me & u part three

Later that evening, after the two of you cleaned yourselves up along with the remnants of paint-covered plastic that was scattered about Matt's bedroom, you and Matt decided to go up to your treehouse to watch the sunset descend below the horizon. He followed you through your gate and up the rope ladder to your treehouse. You rolled and lit up another joint.

While Matt was still reserved, you could feel him opening up to you and becoming more comfortable in your presence, and you liked that. Matt sprawled out on his back on the wooden floor and watched a cloud of smoke escape your lips and dance around the atmosphere before being sucked out of the treehouse window. "Why do you like to smoke?" Matt wondered aloud. "Same reason you like to masturbate," you smirked at him.

"What's it feel like to be high?" He wondered, watching you take another puff. "Well, it's kind of hard to explain. It makes you feel all weightless and airy, and it feels good. Sometimes it makes you giggle a lot or get the munchies," you relayed to him. "I-I think I want to try it," Matt admitted, looking up at you from his reclined position. You raised your eyebrows at him.

"Are you sure? Why?" You pondered, narrowing your gaze at him, curious as to what changed his mind between today and the day before. "Well, I've been thinking about what you said the other day about caffeine being a mind-altering drug, and I have caffeine almost every day," Matt told you. "So, I feel like I'm not being very consistent if I refuse to try a drug just because it's a drug when I drink coffee," he told you.

"Okay, I'm just letting you know now, it's going to affect you way more than coffee," you responded. "Hit me with it," Matt confidently said. "If you say so," you smirked at him. He went to reach for the joint, but instead of passing it to him, you took this opportunity to climb on top of him and straddle him. Matt stared in awe at your confidence, and he immediately grew hard beneath you.

"Just inhale when I blow it out," you directed him, taking a drag. You took both Matt's wrists and pinned them above his head, making sure not to burn him with the cherry of your joint. You leaned down and slowly blew the smoke into Matt's slightly parted lips, brushing yours against his. He moaned against you while you gently kissed him after you exhaled into his mouth.

You pulled away, realeasing his wrists but still straddling him. You watched as he breathed out the smoke and started violently coughing, covering his face with his elbow. "You okay?" You asked him, and he nodded, but he was still choking on the smoke, and tears started welling in his eyes.

"Here, sit up. I'm going to go get you a glass of water and some snacks for when you start feeling it," you responded, climbing off of him and helping him to a sitting position. "I'll be right back," you whispered, rubbing his back before climbing down your rope ladder.

Matt wiped away the tears that had formed after he'd stopped couging, and he peered up at the sunset straight ahead and admired the way the orange and pink shades bled into each other. He could see why you liked to spend so much time here, and he felt honored that you were willing to share such a sacred space with him.

It wasn't sacred to him in the way that church was, but he could tell it held that quality to you. This was your church. It was a place you went to find peace and quiet, a space where you'd sort out your feelings, and a safe haven where you could go enjoy the simple pleasures life had to offer.

He felt the lightness in his body from the marijuana, and he calmly waited until you were climbing back up the rope ladder. "Here," you said, extending the glass of water to him. He gazed down in awe at it, enthralled by the life-giving elixir you were handing him. "Wow," he whispered, looking at it wide-eyed.

"Are you going to take it?" You giggled, raising an eyebrow at him. "Oh, yeah. Sorry," he said, taking the glass from you and beginning to drink it. "This is the most amazing cup of water I've ever had," Matt replied, gulping more of it down while you pulled all the snacks you'd brought him out of a bag. "Here, I brought you some funyuns, some chocolate-covered pretzels, some sour candy, some beef jerky, a sandwich, and a root beer. Eat as much as you want," you told him, smiling at him and laying them out in front of him.

"You know, you're the nicest girl I've ever met," Matt smiled at you with his glazed over expression while he went to grab the bag of funyuns and the root beer. "Nicest? I don't know if I've ever gotten that compliment before," you snorted, well-aware that you were an abrasive and overbearing kind of person, and people didn't usually use the word nice to describe you.

"You're also the prettiest girl I've ever met," Matt told you with a mouthful of funyuns. You blushed and smiled. "You're the most handsome boy I've ever met," you returned the compliment, tapping him on the nose with the tip of your finger. "How do you feel, handsome boy?" You asked Matt, who was taking a sip of his soda. "I think I feel pretty high," he peered over at you with heavy eyelids, and you giggled. "You look pretty high."

"You know, you're like a fairy. You live in your little treehouse, and you have your elixirs and your potions," Matt stared lovingly at you. "A fairy? That's generous. I'm more like a gnome or a troll," you chuckled. "No. To me, you're a fairy," Matt grinned at you.

"Oh man. My dad is going to be expecting me home for dinner soon, but I can't let him see me like this," Matt said in a concerned voice, snapping back to reality. "Don't worry. Let's send him a text and tell him you're having dinner with my mom and me tonight," you suggested, holding out your palm for him to offer up his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and placed it in your hand.

"Hey, dad. I'm staying for dinner at the neighbor girl's house. I'll be home in a couple of hours," you read out loud while you typed. "Don't forget to say I love you. My dad and I always tell each other that at the end of conversations," Matt muttered to you with his mouth full, dipping his hand into the bag of chocolate-covered pretzels.

"Of course you guys do," you replied with a twinge of jealousy in your voice as you finished typing out the text. "Don't your mom and dad tell you they love you?" He asked. "I mean, yeah. Just not all that often," you replied, lighting up the joint again. "But it's fine. I don't need that," you responded, avoiding eye contact and shrugging.

Matt could tell that under your tough persona that there was a softness to you. "Well, I'd tell you that every day," Matt smiled at you while he crunched pretzels between his teeth. "Are you saying you love me?" You widened your eyes at him, taking one of the chocolate-covered pretzels out of the bag Matt was holding.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I haven't known you for long, but if our next interaction is never promised, which it never is, I'd want you to know I love you," Matt replied, smiling at you. "I love you, too, Matt Sturniolo," you replied, taking another drag.

You weren't a very soft person. In fact, you'd worked to become as stoic and unreadable as possible, but there was something about Matt that softened you, melted your heart, and made it easy for you to let your guard down around him.

"You know, being high makes me kind of horny," your eyes flicked up at Matt's, and you deviously grinned at him. "What are you going to do about it?" Matt gave you a serious look, almost as if challenging you. You raised a brow in his direction. You loved it when Matt egged you on.

You silently crawled over towards him, still holding your lit joint, and you put your legs on either side of his, straddling him again. You leaned down and whispered into his ear. "What I'm gonna do about it is fuck you so good. Give you the kind of pussy you won't mind going to hell for," your warm breath tickled his earlobe.

Matt whimpered at your words, and you felt his cock twitch against your clothed cunt. "But not tonight," you teased him, pulling back and gazing at him. You could tell in his facial expression that he was intimidated by you, but you could also see a craving in his blue eyes. "W-why not tonight?" Matt innocently asked, somewhat disappointed.

"The first lesson in sex is don't ever underestimate the power of the anticipation leading up to the act," you responded in a low, seductive voice, beginning to roll your hips against Matt's while you held eye contact.

A million thoughts were racing through Matt's mind. He knew he shouldn't be letting you rub up against his lap like that, and he knew he shouldn't be smoking weed, but there he was, high as a kite as you were grinding on him and he loved every second of it. He let out a soft whine as you shifted your weight around on him. "You can touch me, you know," you whispered to him, taking a drag off your joint. He was taken aback. Of course, he wanted to, but he wasn't sure if he knew how.

His hands hesitantly wandered until they were on your waist, and he initiated a kiss, brushing his nose against yours and tilting your head towards his. His lips clumsily crashed into yours while you continued riding him. He whimpered against your mouth, your tongue begging for entrance into his. His wandering hands soon curiously traveled to your ass. "Is this okay?" He timidly asked, pulling away from the kiss, and you slowly nodded at him, smiling.

You could feel him hardening beneath you as you teased him. You couldn't deny how good it felt, and with every rock of your hips, you both let out a satisfied moan. He squeezed your bottom as he started nearing his orgasm. You loved how simple it was and how responsive he was to your every touch. "Please don't stop," he managed to get out in the midst of his pleasure. "I wouldn't dream of it," you responded in a dreamy voice, rutting up against his member.

His head fell back and made a quiet thump as it hit the wall of your treehouse, and he let out a loud, needy groan. You peered down in awe at the wet spot on the front of his jeans, realizing you'd made him cum again without even directly touching him. "Wow. That was easy," you told him, nibbling on your lip while you hungrily stared into his bedroom eyes. "That was amazing," Matt told you, catching his breath.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

The next morning, you groggily stumbled out of bed, reminiscing on the night before and the way you and Matt had shared such an intimate moment together. You still couldn't believe he had chosen to get high with you. Matt had waited until his dad had fallen asleep before sneaking back into his house, still stoned from having smoked several hours before. Luckily, he'd made it inside without having to face him.

You reluctantly dragged yourself from your cozy bed and started getting ready for work. You hadn't been awake for long when your phone start buzzing against your dresser. When you peered down at the screen, you saw it was Matt calling. "Hey you," you smiled into the phone, rifling through the mess of clothes in your closet.

"Hey. Sorry to bother you. I just saw your light come on in your room, and I was wondering what you were doing up so early," Matt said, sitting at his desk and taking a sip of his morning coffee. "Are you spying on me?" You jokingly accused him, peering out of your window into his room. "Yeah, whatever. You spied on me first," Matt waved to you from his desk chair.

"The green fits you so well," you told Matt, admiring the new paint on his walls. "Thanks," he smiled. "My shift starts in like 45 minutes, so I'm begrudgingly getting dressed. Look away," you replied, pulling down your pajama bottoms while you glanced back at Matt across the way. "What happens if I don't?" Matt asked, unable to take his eyes off you and the way you looked standing in your underwear, gazing back at him. "Then Jesus will know!" You teased him. He rolled his eyes and chuckled into the phone.

"What are you doing?" You asked him, slipping out of your panties. "Just having some coffee and journaling. Oh, and getting like, the world's hottest striptease," he replied, watching you still. "Sounds hot. Coffee sounds so good right now. Well, I should really finish getting ready, but I'd love to hang out after my shift. I'm off at 3 p.m.," you responded, pulling on a pair of jean shorts.

"Sure. Maybe I'll come see you at work," he told you. "Yeah? What are you looking to buy a pocket pussy or something from me?" You teased him. "Only if you sell me on one," he joked. "I'll catch you later, Matt," you giggled into the phone before you hung up. You took off your top and peered back over at Matt who was still visible in your window. You winked and walked out of view, stepping deeper into your closet.

A few hours into your shift, you were reorganizing some of the lingerie when your coworker Carly nudged you. "Isn't that the guy you came in here with the other day?" You glanced up to see Matt walking into the shop, holding a frozen caramel coffee in his hand. He gave you that same shy smile and gentle wave as the first day you'd met him. You made your way over to him, smiling from ear to ear.

"Awh, Matt. Did you bring me a coffee?" You asked, motioning at the drink in his hand. "Yeah," he said, handing it off to you. "Also, this is embarrassing.." he started to say, lowering his voice. "What's up?" You tilted your head, looking at him sympathetically. "I'm here for more than just to see you and bring you a coffee," Matt blushed. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, picking up on what he was trying to say.

"Are you here as a customer?" You wondered out loud. "Look, I've never done this before. But can you give me a recommendation?" Matt quietly asked, his eyes darting around the shop as if he were worried about seeing someone he knew. "This is so hot. I can't believe I get to help you pick out your first sex toy!" You practically shouted, turning heads and drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the vicinity. Matt shushed you while blood rushed to his cheeks.

"Not if you're gonna embarrass me," Matt mumbled, hiding his face. "Matt, everyone who's in here is here for their sexual needs. Why would they be judging you?" You rolled your eyes, smiling at him and grabbing him by the hand. You pulled him over to the men's sex toy section.

"Unfortunately, there aren't quite as many options for men, but are you looking for like a cock ring or a fleshlight? Maybe a butt plug?" You asked, picking one up and dangling it in his face. "Uh, no. I think that's a little advanced for me," Matt giggled, taking it out of your hand and putting it back down. "Just pick me out something that's not too weird."

"Well, Matt, weird is subjective," you responded, grinning at how flustered he was. He rolled his eyes, still blushing. "I think I know what you should get. Follow me," you responded, leading him down the aisle. "Now, I'm not a man, so I can't tell you from personal experience how good this one is, but it has great reviews on our website," you told him, picking up a packaged fleshlight and putting it in his hand. "The inside of it is really textured and made of a really soft material. A lot of men say that if you use lube, it feels almost as good as actual sex."

"Well, I wouldn't know," Matt rubbed the back of his neck, nervously laughing. "Well, when we inevitably fuck, you can tell me how true that is," you whispered into his ear. "Anyway, it's really discreet, and according to a lot of male customers we have, it feels really good," you told him. He stared at you needily and nodded as you told him about it, still hung up on the comment about the two of you inevitably having sex.

"Let's get you some lube and some toy cleaner, too," you smiled at him, leading the way towards the front. You gave him the rundown on how to clean it and store it, and you bagged everything up for him. "Here you go," you said, smiling at Matt and handing it over to him. "Don't I need to pay for it?" Matt inquired. "No, I'll pay for it later. That way I can use my employee discount," you told him. "That's sweet of you. You don't have to do that," Matt replied.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to. The only rule is, you can't use it on yourself until I get off shift," you bit your lip at him. "That's like four hours from now," he pouted at you. "Be a good boy and wait until mommy gets home, okay?" You whispered, looking into his eyes. "Okay, fine," Matt huffed at you.

"Oh, hey, pretty boy. You decide to come back and get something for yourself?" Carly appeared out of nowhere. Matt timidly looked at her and slowly nodded. "That's hot. You have to come back and tell us how good it made you feel," your coworker seductively looked him up and down while she chewed on her lip. He nodded again.

"I'll see you later, Matt," you told him before he left the shop. "I don't know what you did to that boy, but he's under your spell," Carly smirked at you before wandering off to another part of the store.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Matt had already been playing heavily on your mind since you'd met him, but by the time you clocked out, all you could think about was how he would look and sound while using his new fleshlight.

When you got home, you took a shower, washed the day from your skin, and slipped into a comfortable over-sized shirt. You called up Matt while you were standing in your bedroom, gazing through your window at the cute boy laying in his bed. "Hey," he answered the phone, trying not to sound too excited, looking back at you.

"I have a weird request," you nibbled on your lip. "What is it?" Matt wondered. "I want to watch you use your new toy from here," you nervously replied, smirking as the words left your mouth. "At least you asked this time," Matt teased you, smiling at you. "And if you could stay on the phone with me while you use it, I'd really like that," you admitted.

"That would be really hot," Matt responded. "You haven't used it yet, have you, baby?" You cooed. "No, I've been a really good boy," he needily replied. He started slowly unzipping his jeans, and you could see it through the window and hear it through the phone.

He pulled out his aching cock and reached for the lube you'd recommended to him earlier. You heard him pop the lid open, and you could hear his soft groans as he applied it. He already had his fleshlight within reach like he was waiting to be able to use it.

"Good boy. Why don't you put it in?" You suggested in a seductive whisper. "Yes, mommy," he obeyed you. You watched as his length disappeared into the fleshlight, and you listened as his needy groans filled your ear. "I bet it feels so good," you smirked. "Oh. Mommy, it does," Matt whimpered, stroking himself with his toy. "So much better than my hand," he whined, picking up speed. You felt a wet warmth pooling between your thighs as you watched Matt pleasuring himself.

You couldn't get enough of the way he looked through the window, his head thrown back and his mouth hanging open as more delighted groans poured from his pretty lips. "Keep going. You're such a good boy," you praised him through the phone. "Mommy, please. You're making me dangerously close," Matt whined, fervently jerking himself off with his toy while he basked in your words. "Not yet, baby. Don't cum just yet," you responded quietly. He let out a pained sigh and slowed down his movements to keep himself from finishing too quickly, but he found himself bucking his hips up to continue the wonderful sensation.

"Mommy, can't stop. Mmm. Feels too good," Matt whimpered. You took in the sight of him across the way, tending to his needy cock. "You got this, baby. Hold out just a little bit longer," you cooed into the phone. Matt used every ounce of discipline to keep himself from teetering over the edge as he buried his cock deep into his toy. "Mommy, I keep imagining it's you," he said in a breathy voice. "Don't you dare cum until I say so," you replied in a soft, sensual tone. "Please," he begged. He started picking up speed again, flirting with the idea of finishing despite not having been given permission.

"No, no. Not yet," you teased. He couldn't get enough of the slippery material inside the fleshlight, and the way it fit around his cock so snugly, wondering if that's how you'd feel wrapped around him. With every stroke, he felt himself nearing the tipping point. "Mommy, need to cum. I am begging," he desperately pleaded with you. "Good boy. You waited so patiently. You can cum now. Cum for mommy," you directed him. "Thank you, mommy. Thank you," he whimpered.

His dick started twitching as the knot in his stomach gave way. All his muscles tightened as he finished pumping his cock, blowing his load into his toy until it started dripping out, coating his length with his milky white substance. "Fuck. That was so hot," you told him, rubbing yourself through your panties while he caught his breath. He playfully giggled into the phone.

"This toy is amazing. I've gotta go clean this up."

taglist: @gabri3la-sturns @lowkeyobsessedwthesturniolos @starzinasblog @mattsturns09 @sluttt4matt @heartsforsturniolo567 @nomusic-nodreams @freakbob15 @valkatriee @lyla-rose05 @savannah00 @shadowthesim @clara-sangster @slimshiesty @mattybearskitten @chrissturns-wife @sturnl0ve @poolover123 @geniusbean @secretfangirly @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @jaysturniolo @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Little Seer

Pairing: Sihtric x reader(female) x Finan

Authors note: there was something in the air again 😅 Brainstorming and writing together with the talented and amazing @little-diable is an absolute pleasure. Thank you so much for co-writing this little story with me! 💖💖💖

Warnings: SMUT 18+, a bit of angst, the usual things

Summary: as if being Skade's sister wasn't challenge enough, you are faced with an impossible choice between two warriors, competing over your heart

Word Count: 4,8 K

You closed your eyes and inhaled the cool, crisp morning air. A fleeting aroma of freshly baked bread wafted toward you, evoking a vivid memory of work-worn hands kneading dough on a high table, so tall that your nose barely reached its surface.

"Go fetch your sister," a soft voice urged, and you giggled as a finger touched your nose, leaving a white flour mark on it.

"Skade, Skade, where are you? Mom is baking bread," you called out cheerfully, your voice ringing through the yard like a bright, joyful stream. Your small feet carried you from one building to the next.

"Shhh, what are you doing? Stop yelling! You just scared all my spirits away," an irritated hiss made you freeze in your tracks as your lively, smiling eyes met two stormy, piercing blue ones. Your face twisted into a mocking grimace as you stuck out your tongue at your sister. Her giggle was soft and sparkling, reminiscent of a tiny bell's chime, as she took your hand and you both skipped joyfully back to the house.

Long before the big wooden gates of Dunholm creaked open to welcome the small traveling party, you had already known she was approaching Dunholm. The runes never lied to you. Bound by the same blood and the same divine gift, your destinies were intricately woven together in a delicate tapestry of love and hate. You knew you couldn’t escape each other and  no matter how hard you tried to defy this fate, you had always failed.

Your palm tightened around the shaft of the Nithstang you had crafted tonight, wet and sticky with the warm blood dripping down your fingers, as you forced your eyes open. Your steps, steady and resolute, carried you to the small paddock across the inner yard, now a makeshift prison.

"Release him!" Your voice, edged with a metallic tone, carried a hint of the anger simmering deep within you. Something stirred in the shadows at the back, and a silhouette began to move closer to the bars. Two familiar, deep pools of dazzling blue met your gaze.

"You know I won't," a challenge danced on the plush lips curved into a smirk. "You should know me better by now, little sis."

"Don't make me use my power against you," you warned, your breath forming small clouds of mist as you spoke, casting a shimmering, translucent veil over your sister's face and giving it a mysterious glow.

"You wouldn't dare," Skade smirked, tilting her head defiantly.

"You leave me no choice," you replied, not with anger but with a surge of resolve. With a loud cry, you swung the Nithstang high into the air, driving it deep into the ground to face the place where your sister was imprisoned.

Your love for her was deeply rooted in every fibre of your being, yet you despised the monster she had become, transformed by power-hungry men who sought to use her for their own ascension. It was this profound care for her, this need to protect her even from herself, that had driven you to carve the ancient runes into the wood under the cover of night. The power of love was stronger than the power of hate, yet your sister, as mighty as she might be, still failed to recognize this simple truth.

Fear and caution had long been your constant companions, often mingled with respect, but genuine fascination and appeal seldom visited your life. You struggled to suppress your smile as you constantly felt two pairs of eyes almost burning into your back each time when you turned away.

The dark brown eyes exuded warmth, strength, and protectiveness, creating a comforting presence that seemed to envelop you each time you entered the great hall. The peculiar, mismatched eyes sparkled with mischief and curiosity, radiating a sense of possessiveness. They darted around the room, absorbing every detail, as if laying claim to every word you spoke and every move you made.

An Irish-accented voice, rich and booming, reached you near the stream just as you were about to lift the heavy buckets brimming with water. "May I help you?"

"Thank you, that's very kind," you replied with a smile, watching the sturdy, well-built Irishman effortlessly lift your load and nod for you to lead the way.

To break the somewhat awkward silence, you inquired, "How's Lord Uhtred?"

"He's well, thanks to you, lady. On the way here, I had my doubts he'd even make it," the warrior replied, his voice thick with genuine worry and care. The soothing quality of his words made you turn and cast a warm smile back at him while noticing his shoulders straighten and his eyes light up with a friendly glow.

Having seen him spar before, it was clear that beneath his somewhat soft and pappy shell lay a core of steel, marked by agility and resolve.

"Lady, I was looking for you..." greeted a cheerful voice accompanied by a bright smile at the steps before your hut. "I... I was riding out the horses, and there, in the meadow, I thought of you when I saw these," stammered the young, handsome Dane, revealing a bouquet of wildflowers he had been hiding behind his back. His gaze quickly shifted to his feet.

The bouquet was not a mere haphazard cluster; it was artfully arranged—a vibrant swirl of colours with bright yellow flowers at the centre, gently transitioning to soft pink and white ones around the edges, framed by green leaves.

"They are beautiful, thank you so much, Sihtric," you said, your eyes widening in surprise. Your fingers lightly brushed against his as you accepted the flowers, inhaling their sweet scent. A muffled scoff from behind made you bury your face deeper into the bouquet to hide your amused smirk upon seeing Finan roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Lady, let me..." Sihtric hurriedly ascended the few steps and swung the door open for you, you stepped inside and Sihtric followed you, letting the door close just before Finan could enter. You turned to him with a surprised smile and, hearing Finan’s disgruntled curse behind the door, Sihtric quickly opened it again to let in the visibly annoyed Irishman.

"Please put the buckets there," you directed, pointing to a wooden bench in the corner while turning to fetch a vase for the flowers from the cupboard.

The sound of shuffling feet and muffled murmurs behind you indicated that both warriors were hesitant to leave. As you turned to face them, Finan spoke first, "I... I placed the buckets on the bench... I..." He scratched the back of his head, his eyes darting around the room, seemingly searching for something to say.

"Oh, your door is half ajar; it needs fixing," Sihtric suddenly exclaimed. "I'll fetch some tools and be right back."

"You've never held a hammer and nail in your life, you don’t even know what they look like, and now you want to pretend you can fix a door?" Finan scoffed, clearly upset he hadn’t noticed the issue first.

Sihtric hurried off to fetch the tools, leaving Finan behind, still bristling from the earlier mishap and determined not to be outdone by the young Dane. “I can fix that just fine without his help,” Finan muttered, eyeing the slightly ajar door as if it were a direct challenge to his capabilities.

When Sihtric returned, he clumsily carried a bundle of tools wrapped in cloth. Finan was already examining the door, squinting critically. “Here, let me show you how it’s done,” Sihtric announced with a confident swagger, setting the bundle down with a thud.

The two warriors stood side by side, peering at the assortment of tools, which included a couple of misshapen awls and a few worn hammers. “This one looks about right,” Sihtric said, picking up an awl with an uncertain glance.

“That’s not how you hold it, give it here,” Finan scoffed, snatching the tool and holding it upside down. You watched, amused, as they fumbled, each trying to outdo the other with bravado that was clearly unfounded.

“Here, you need to tighten the hinges,” Sihtric suggested.

“No, the alignment’s off. It needs a new hole,” Finan countered, eyeing the frame as if he could will it into compliance.

Sihtric attempted to use a hammer, gently tapping around the hinge as if coaxing it to tighten by itself. Meanwhile, Finan, now wielding an awl, tried to carve a new hole in the wood, his efforts resulting in a crooked and unnecessary indentation.

The result was a door that hung even more awkwardly than before. 

“You know, maybe we should just ask the carpenter in the village,” Sihtric finally conceded, stepping back to examine their handiwork, which looked worse than when they started.

Finan, though reluctant to admit defeat, nodded in agreement. “Let’s just say woodworking isn’t our calling,” he said, chuckling awkwardly.

You couldn’t help but laugh at their earnest but bungled efforts, appreciating the entertainment, if not the craftsmanship. “I think that’s wise,” you agreed, still smiling. “But thank you both for trying. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

Everything went quiet suddenly, with just shy glances and nervous shuffling of feet filling the air. It was getting awkward, but it was obvious neither warrior wanted to leave. The question in their eyes was so clear and so charming that this time, you couldn't help but let a grin slip.

Their fondness for you was apparent, neither attempting to conceal it, as they'd been playfully fighting for your attention for a week now, and you'd be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it. The two warriors were as different as fire and water, their contrasting energies sparking against each other with every word and gesture. 

You really appreciated how Finan always looked out for you, always there to lend a hand, careful and attentive. His support was rock solid, his eyes always warm, and he never missed a chance to gently tease you.

Then there was Sihtric, with his wild, spontaneous streak that drew you in just as much. He’d show up at all sorts of odd times with flowers, or suddenly appear at your hut with a huge smile and a basket full of goodies, just because he’d found the perfect spot on a nearby hill to catch the sunset. No matter how tired you were, his laughter and sheer joy were contagious, always managing to sweep you up in another adventure.

Both warriors truly brightened up your life, even helping you momentarily forget the deep worry your sister's presence constantly evoked. As time passed, it was clear Uhtred was committed to his decision to stay with his brother, which only seemed to make the boys more hopeful whenever they looked your way. But what really amazed you was something quite rare, something you hadn’t seen before—even with their ongoing competition for your attention, their friendship didn’t waver—not even a bit.

They were both waiting for you to make a choice between them. And honestly, as much as you wanted to decide, making up your mind just seemed impossible.

Stars were twinkling in the sky as you rolled your head back, letting the river run through your hair as you took your bath. Darkness wrapped itself around you like a veil, hidden from the drunken men you didn’t want to cross paths with, the nosy fighters who’d give a lot for a good look at your naked frame. 

Your body had ached as you found your way down to the river, desperate for some moments alone, away from the confusion of being close to Sihtric and Finan pushed through you and the confusion your sister managed to push through your veins with every rising of the sun. It was a steady back and forth you should be all too used to by now. 

“Here’s good!” The raspy voice echoed through the air, dripping with his Irish accent while forcing your eyes away from the sky to watch the two men walk closer. For a moment, you didn’t move, letting your curious eyes watch the two as you waited for them to notice you. But Finan and Sihtric kept undressing, not picking up on your closeness just now.

“It’s not very honourable of you to disturb a woman’s bath, now is it?” Humour flushed through you as you spoke the word, chasing the protection the dark water offered. Only your head and throat were visible, hiding the body both Finan and Sihtric had been imagining the past days, chasing highs with their minds solemnly focused on you. 

“Apologies, lady.” SIhtric stumbled over his words, drawing a loud laugh from you as you kept on watching them. 

“Would you mind some company?” It was a bold question the Irishman asked, knowing that this could take an ugly turn. Perhaps it was the mead flushing through your system, perhaps it was the thrilling coldness of the river, whatever it was, it forced your mouth open once again, giving room to your words rolling off your tongue. 

“If you can behave, I wouldn’t mind your company, no.” The hum leaving Finan seemed to snap Sihtric out of his trance, averting his gaze as the two kept undressing. For some more seconds, you allowed yourself to study their muscular frames, a sight that left you trembling with heat pooling between your thighs before you eventually let your eyes wander back up to the sky. 

“It’s a beautiful sight, aye.” Finan’s voice wrapped itself around you as he moved closer, marvelling at the starry sky. Even though you kept your eyes focused on the sky, you couldn’t help but focus on the heat he emanated – a heat that only grew stronger as Sihtric also stepped towards you. “But we are fortunate men, us two, we don’t have to look that far for a beautiful sight.”

The words left you laughing, unable to bite down your smile as you turned towards the two men. Mischief was swimming in their pupils, it seemed as if whatever back-and-forth they had felt between one another had found some end, a compromise perhaps. Whatever it was, it drew them even closer, giving you the chance to pull away before overstepping any boundaries 

“Others may no longer respect your honour if they see you here with us, lady.” Sihtric’s husky voice was about to draw a moan out of you, reminding you of the words you had imagined them to speak as you had chased your high just this morning, thinking of these two warriors now caging you between their bodies. 

“And why is that?” Slowly, you rose, exposing your naked chest to Finan, who was standing in front of you. You felt Sihtric tugging himself against your back, with his tensed abs pressing into your soft skin, with his hardening cock pressed against your behind. An unfamiliar heat took over, guiding your every moment – you were about to slip up, about to give in while your mind was silenced. And for the first time, you were alright with letting go, diving head-first into an adventure you had been dreaming of for days. 

Sihtric’s hands found your waist, keeping you pressed to him as Finan’s warm hand cupped your cheek. You could feel their breaths teasing your skin, making you feel as if you were their sacrifice, one with the fire they were about to toss you into, leaving you trembling and aching – all because of them. 

“Once you lose your honour to us, we won’t let you go again, little lady.” You scoffed at the nickname Finan used for you, a sound that was turned into a moan as Sihtric’s fingers danced down your stomach, finding their way to your pulsing bundle. The moan that clawed through you had nothing human-like to it, torn between a warrior’s cry and an animalistic growl. A sound so sinful, you felt both men chuckle; a chuckle of victory; a chuckle of excitement. 

Tonight you were theirs. Tonight you wouldn’t break free from their grasp. Not tonight. 

“Oh, gods.” The words clawed through you as Sihtric’s fingers began to move in circular motions, rubbing your bundle of nerves just enough to make the hairs at the back of your neck rise. It felt as if you were trapped by some kind of spell, chaining you to these two men who explored your body with their lips. Finan’s beard scratched your skin as he kissed your throat, dipping his head down to find your hardening nipples, all while Sihtric’s teeth teased the spot where your shoulder met your neck. 

“No gods will answer your prayers tonight, pretty lady. For now, you’re ours to play with.” Sihtric’s raspy words were about to push you over the edge, chasing your release without feeling either one of them buried deep inside of you yet. You were desperate for more, torn between different sensations that left you trembling and aching for more. 

“I want you, please.” It was pathetic almost how needy you were, too far in to pick up on the sly grin tugging on Finan’s lips, wordlessly communicating with Sihtric. 

“How do you want us?” Finan’s lips teased yours, not kissing you fully, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But nothing could pull you from these two, not tonight at least. Sihtric tightened his grip on you as you kept quiet, adding more pressure to his moving fingers, toying with your pulsing bundle. 

“Speak when you’re asked to, don’t play any games.” You choked on your gasps at Sihtric’s demanding command, leaving you shuddering between them. 

“Both of you, I don’t care how, I just need you.” Within moments you were shifted around, pressed down on a nearby stone to balance your body as Finan positioned himself behind you. You were close to passing out, letting your racing heart guide you as your glassy eyes wandered down Sihtric’s muscular front, straight to his twitching cock. The Dane positioned himself in front of you, fingers pulling your hair together to draw your mouth closer to him. 

“Who are we to deny a pretty lady’s wish, huh?” Finan pushed into you without another warning, tearing another moan from you that was silenced by Sihtric’s cock. Your mouth engulfed him, lips wrapped around his tip to suck on him. His taste stuck to your tongue, a taste you’d forever remember, just like the feeling of Finan finally fucking you. The Irishman didn’t grant you any mercy, he fucked you as if the Devil himself was chasing him, a sensation so strong your walls kept fluttering around him.

“What a devilish mouth for such a sweet seer.” Sihtric’s praises shot shudders down your spine and drew sounds from you that vibrated on his cock as he pushed further down your throat. You were close to seeing stars, close to letting the darkness that called your name swallow you. Tonight you didn’t care about what may happen to you. Tonight you didn’t care about losing yourself to these two handsome warriors. Tonight you were simply theirs. 

“You feel divine, lady.” Finan groaned his words as he fucked you even deeper, pressed down on the cold stone that would surely leave its marks on your body. This night would leave its bruises on you, bruises you’d forever remember, while silently hoping that they’d leave some more on your body in the upcoming days and weeks. 

Tears ran down your warm cheeks, tears of desperation and lust, drawn from your eyes by the feeling of Sihtric’s cock nudging your throat, by the feeling of Finan’s calloused fingertips rubbing your overstimulated bundle, pushing you over the edge within moments. 

Finan fucked you through your high as Sihtric groaned your name, painting your tongue and cheeks white with his release. You didn’t dare break eye contact with the handsome Dane as you swallowed, not even as you felt Finan stain your behind with his cum. It was a moment so intimate that you were sure neither Finan nor Sihtric could ever forget about it, just like you. 

The three of you were heavily panting as silence wrapped itself around you, drawing a laugh out of you as you rose back to your feet. You couldn’t help but shake your head as you studied the two for another moment, trying to accept what had just happened. 

“What’s so funny, lady?” Finan pulled you against his broad chest, grinning in success as you clung to him, wordlessly telling the two that you weren’t planning on running anytime soon. 

“I’m just happy, I think.” Your eyes wandered towards Sihtric, grinning at the man who looked at you as if you had hung up the stars in the sky yourself, a true masterpiece only a few were fortunate enough to take in. 

“We won’t let you go again, we stay true to our words.” As much as you wanted to give in, to let this dream suck you into its grasp for some more moments, you couldn’t, breaking out of your hazy trance. Carefully you stepped away from Finan to sink back into the cold water, cleaning yourself for one last time that evening. 

“Don’t make any promises, Irishman. You don’t know what’s coming upon us, it will be cruel, guided by my sister’s hands.”

The clang of weapons and the wild shouts from the crowd echoed off the walls of Dunholm, deafening you with the force of a thunderstorm. You had always been certain of the foolishness and recklessness of men, yet they continued to surprise you.

Your decision to serve Ragnar was based on his ability to listen and consider matters without letting emotions cloud his judgement—a rare trait among men. But this time was different.

Your eyes shifted, catching a glimpse of Skade at the far end of the square. How had you missed it? Distracted by a fuzzy haze of love and admiration, you hadn't noticed the spider spinning its web behind you, the viper weaving its venom into the hearts of men. Now, you were forced to watch as arrogance and false pride shattered the fragile peace you had so carefully helped to nurture.

"Are you satisfied? Do you really think this will bring you anything?" you hissed into Skade's ear.

"I’ve won, little sister. I always win, whatever it takes. There’s no turning back. Uhtred is mine. He will come to rule all Danes and Saxons; he’s been born to lead. I’ve seen that. And I'll rise with him. He's bound to me, and there's nothing you can do about it," she whispered back, her words slicing through you like the sharpest knife, reopening old wounds you had struggled to heal.

“This is no game, Skade. Stop this madness. You’ve gone too far. You took a life that wasn’t yours to claim, just to replace her. This will have consequences, and you know it. Release him and stay here with me. Please, sister,” you pleaded, knowing deep down it was likely futile, but you had to try.

There was a subtle shuffle of feet before your sister finally turned to face you. Your pleading gaze met her icy stare, the chill from her eyes almost freezing your words in midair.

“Did you enjoy the company of those two fools, calling themselves warriors?” she asked coldly, her chin lifting slightly as she tilted her head to the right, scrutinising you through her long lashes. “Tell those two hounds to stay behind, or if they're foolish enough to follow their master, tell them not to interfere with me. You know better than anyone what happens to those who get in my way.”

You couldn’t remember how you got home, the sound of the door, shutting behind you with a loud thud as you slammed your back against the gnarled wood, startling you. You slid down the door to the floor, elbows on your knees, cradling your head in your hands.

Sobs wracked your body, starting quietly and gradually becoming louder and uncontrollable, until you threw back your head, releasing a loud, desperate cry that tore through you. Yes, you knew all too well what happened when someone interfered with your sister. You knew the agony of feeling like your heart was being ripped from your chest, leaving a wound that wouldn't heal, a wound that lingered for years.

She had taken everything from you once, and without a moment’s hesitation, she would do it again. Of that, you were certain.

"Come with us," Finan urged, his large, rough palm reaching out for yours while his thumb gently traced circles on your skin.

"We will care for you, protect you," Sihtric added, his two-coloured eyes searching for yours, but you stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. You pulled your hands away from Finan’s gentle grip and, needing something to occupy them, began nervously adjusting and straightening your clothes. You shook your head, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. 

"Stay here, both of you, stay with me," you countered, finally lifting your head, your eyes pleading as they moved between Sihtric and Finan.

Silence stretching between you, Finan stepped forward first. He enveloped you in a strong embrace, his arms a fortress that for a brief moment, warded off what was about to come. As he pulled back, his hands cupped your face, and he leaned in to place a tender, lingering kiss on your lips

Sihtric, his expression a complex tapestry of regret and resolve, moved closer. His farewell was quieter, more restrained, as if he feared that any show of passion might crumble his resolve. He took your hands in his, holding them between you both, his gaze finally locking with yours. Slowly, he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them softly, his breath warm against your skin.

Words were superfluous; everything that needed to be said shimmered in the air around you, poignant and bittersweet.

“Be careful. Don’t underestimate my sister,” you finally broke the silence, “She can turn Uhtred against you.”

You saw the disbelief in their eyes and sighed deeply. “You have no idea of what she is capable of. This is just the beginning.”

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[mascdestr0yer]

Number One (2)

Hopkins!Paige x Fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff, a bit cheesy, a girl and basketball player (zombies ref)

Trope: Slow burn

Synopsis: Paige’s birthday so happens to be in your favorite time of the year, super..

“hey, stop it, i thought we worked on that?”

previous | Next

FALL,

It was your favorite season, you enjoyed the songs the trees sang at night, you loved the breeze they bring when they danced, and the colors of the trees brought a warm coziness into your heart.

You chose to walk to school today, to take your mind off of things but, your mind kept getting clouded with images of a faux blonde.

You felt a heavy arm swing around your shoulder, almost making you drop your coffee. you removed the girl’s arm.

“why are you here,” you huffed as you glanced up at the girl, your tone coming off more whiny as you intended to.

“walking to school, duh.”She rolled her eyes, fiddling with one of the gajillion trinkets on your key chain on your tote bag.

you smacked her hand away,“don’t you have a car?”

“yeah but, i gotta keep in shape, you know for the season,” She smirks, flexing her bicep. “-And i know you’ve been walking to school lately, i wanted to see you.”

You couldn’t deny the way your heart fluttered when she said she wanted to you but, you did not want to boost the girls ego any more. “um, we see each other, every day. you should put a sweater on, you don’t wanna catch a cold.”

“why, you’ll miss me?” she wiggled her eyebrows and you physically cringed.

“no, we sit next to each other, i can’t afford to get sick on bed rest because of you.” taking a sip of your pumpkin spice latte, dare you say ‘tis the season’, she rolled her eyes with a small huff.

“you don’t have to be a know it all, all the time, miss granger.” Her focus stayed straight ahead, her eyes wandering to your face every now and then. you almost laughed at the reference, you nudged her a bit.

“i didn’t take you for a harry potter type of girl,” now you began looking straight ahead, as you guys neared school.

“Why not? They had third grade me geeking,” you could tell she had a smile on face by her tone of voice.

“okay smartypants,” you giggled, walking through the gate, she shoved you slightly.

“i know you’re not talking, i’ll see you later, a’ight?” she held her hand out and you looked at her like she was crazy. “okay, be difficult.” she said as she hugged you and then she walked away.

“bye..” you muttered out, your heart was pounding, and you began walking to your first period.

Time flew by quickly but, you weren’t having fun. You dreaded walking into third period, the hug felt different, it didn’t feel like those fake hugs at family gatherings. Well, you’ve never hugged Paige before, so she could hug everyone like that.

You walked into your calculus class, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall— this time, not because of Paige. Ms.Carson acts as if she’s cold blooded vampire, keeping it so cold in her classroom.

You walked to your seat, sitting your bag down, good, paige wasn’t there yet. actually, you almost always beat her to class, so it’s both a shocker, it just feels good this time because you did not want to see her.

It felt like if you see her, you would word vomit all your feelings, which is weird because you don’t know how you feel.

You didn’t like her, you were just a bit shocked she hugged you? No, now you were being delirious, it’s not like it was a bad thing that you liked her—wrong. it was horrible, so you thought, it was unhealthy to have a crush on someone you knew you would never have, right?

It was like having an addiction to something you couldn’t afford, who their right mind is addicted to weed but, can’t afford a gram, idiots and beggars, you want to be neither.

You were pulled out of you thoughts, when a certain someone handed you a word search worksheet as she sat down.

“what do i need this for?” You examine the page, already finding a few words. you smile as you read one, gay, that had to have been on purpose. of course it wasn’t in the word bank though, that would be absolutely ridiculous.

“it’s a free day, remember? there were coloring sheets but, you seem like you do word search in your free time.” She chuckled at her own joke or whatever you call it. it seemed like she was trying to sneak diss.

“super funny,” you responded sarcastically, the safest option. you pulled out your pencil case of of your tote bag, setting it on the desk. highschool is so hard they said, your teachers aren’t as lenient they say, lies. But hey, you had no problem with word search.

you take a random highlighter out of your pencil case, doing the word search no problem. until you see paige peering over your shoulder, you turn your paper so she couldn’t see. “what are you doing?”

“it’s not a competition, i just wanna see what you have.” she bites back a smile, still trying to get a peek.

“if it’s not a competition then why are you trying to see my answers?” you crossed your arms and she smacked her lips.

“okay, you caught me, listen, i need to ask you something,” she set her pencil down, now you were nervous. you subconsciously began biting your nails. she gently pulled your hand away from your mouth. “hey, stop it, i thought we worked on that?” you huffed when she said that, you guys did work on it, mainly because you keep your bails painted and it’s unhealthy to eat nail polish. “Look, my birthday (Oct, 20th) is coming up, so i’m throwing a halloween costume party, you should come.”

is she messing with you? no seriously, it’s not like you were a nerd on disney channel who never gets invited to things, it’s just shocking coming from her, now you had to get her a gift.

“yeah, sure.”

“No that definitely means, ‘bring me a gift’” you whine to your mom, as you guys walked through victoria's secret, inside the mall. (best store in the mall)

“so what does she like?”

“i don’t knoww,” you whined some more, “now i have time to get a stupid halloween costume,”

“just wear something, cute, ooh!— a cute firefighter, or a jennifer’s body costume, that could be really cute, i bet you would impress miss basketball star.” she wiggles her brows, putting countless things in her bag.

“i’m not trying to impress her,” you huffed for what felt like the one millionth time today. she gave you a look, “okay, maybe a little but, i am not going to her party dressed as a slut, i am not in a movie.”

did you like it ? IM SORRY ITS SHORT !

i need halloween costume ideas now ! and what gift to give paige ?

[aemondapologistfrfr]

His Princess - Pt7

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: The battle continues at Kings Landing as the dance begins in Harrenhal. When everything seems overwhelming there is a break on the horizon. Rhaenyra sends Y/n and Ben back to Harrenhal after they take Kings Landing to see the outcome. 

Warnings: 18+ battle/war, blades, blood, death, swearing, my version of the battle above gods eye(spoiler for the show bc it’s fr and it’s not cute) - mc but cannon death, beheading, alys spreading info like the gossip she is, after war and gossip oral(f receiving), fingering

Authors Note: hopefully the switching of the povs offers what I wanted it to!!!!, hate cole but i can’t deny he’s a good swordsman and would need at least two ppl to take him in a fight, i tried to keep gods eye minimal bc i can’t stand dragons fighting!!!, also daeron is not apart of this story bc i didn’t want another dragon to be hurt!

Word Count: 5.5k almost half of this is war

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n Pov:

“Find him,” I sob to Vermithor and his growls shake the walls around the city as Silverwing and I give out an earth shattering cry as we circle the host raining fire upon the Greens. 

Vermithor gives out a bone chilling roar and sprays fire along the Gods gate. I’m turning my head searching for any sign of Ben as Silverwing follows close to Vermithor. I take notice of Vermithors wound but it’s more of just a scratch and the bleeding has already ceased much to my relief. My adrenaline rises to match my fear as my heart pounds wildly in my chest as we continue our search for Ben. 

Vermithor circles around where I last saw Ben and begins to fly down to the ground. He sprays the ground in dragon flame before he lands on the burning men as Silverwing lands us in the center of the fire next to him. The warmth licks at my armor as I watch the flames die around me. As the haze clears I see Ben cutting down men around him in a frenzy. 

I sob in relief as I see him still in one piece and quickly slide off of Silverwing. I slip the sword from my back and go to Ben’s side. My blade becomes an extension of myself as my body goes into a killing calm. Everything around me fades away as I face man after man. As I turn to my next victim I can see the burnt scorpion behind the host. 

Cole emerges from the ruins and bodies offering me a bloody smile. Our dragons step closer to me and bare their teeth. Their low growls and chuffs vibrate the ground beneath us. Ben turns to me and sees Cole walking over to me and quickly makes it to my side. 

“You need two dragons and a whores daughter to stand against me?” Cole laughs to Ben bitterly spitting.

“You will still die in the end.” I hum raising my sword.

“We shall see.” he charges forward with his blade in front of him and I quickly fold backwards to avoid his swing. 

Ben comes from behind and strikes with his sword and Cole barely avoids the metal. I rise once again and try to catch Cole from behind but he is quick on his feet. The three of us dance with our blades as the war continues to wage around us. My nerves start to rise as I see our host getting overwhelmed as both of our dragons are grounded with us for the moment. 

This moment of thought has costed me dearly. Pain washes through the side of my face as blood trickles down my neck as Coles sword slices my flesh. I give out a loud cry and Silverwing screams with me. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Harrenhal Pov:

The clouds hang low in the sky as the smell of rain on the horizon washes over the ruined castle. The sky is preparing to weep for the dance that will soon take place. Fog begins to roll in from the forest line casting everything in a gray light.  

“You will die here today.” Alys appears through the foggy gates walking to Daemon and Caraxes.

“As long as I take Aemond with me, I care not.” Daemon pulls his helm on and makes sure everything is secure.

“So eager to die before you meet your grandchild?” Alys tilts her head with a small smile.

“They’ll be better off without me.” he mounts Caraxes and shoots into the sky. 

Daemon has had enough of Alys’ mind games and doesn’t even bat an eye at the insinuation of having grandchildren. He never saw himself living long enough to see his children or wife contented. He knows this is the last thing he will be able to give them and he hopes it’s enough to change the tides of the war. 

Daemon circles around Harrenhal keeping his eyes peeled for Vhagar and her one eyed rider. He’s growing impatient but he can feel the promise of death in the air. Caraxes perches on one of the towers as they await their fate. A low grumble comes from the distance and Vhagar comes into view from the clouds. 

Daemon shoots into the sky and lures them away from the castle. He doesn’t much care for this castle but he knows many Lords will ask Rhaenyra for it so it must remain standing. He leads Aemond over the body of water called Gods Eye.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n Pov:

As I rise to my feet Ben is relentlessly bashing his sword into Coles. The metal song promises death. I try to find an opening to help Ben once more but he has a glazed look over his eyes as he slams repeatedly into Cole. I watch on in shock as I’ve never seen Ben fight like this. Some of his men stop and watch on as this one on one continues. 

Our dragons grumble as some of Coles men stand and watch. It seems as if this part of the wall is on a pause as they wait to see what happens. I rip a piece of my shirt off from under my armor and wipe off the side of my face. The cut seems to start just under my eye and travels down to my jaw. The dirtied cloth stings but it helps staunch the blood. Ben lets out a mighty roar and swings his long sword and I gasp with widened eyes.

“Your Kingmaker.” Ben yells as he raises Coles head into the air. 

He dips down and grabs Coles foot and drags it to Vermithor who grabs his leg in his claws. He returns to me still gripping Coles head in his hands and I look to him as he’s breathing heavily. He turns my face and looks at my cut as his nostrils flare.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers as the men begin to look around unsure if we’re to keep fighting. “To Silverwing.” he nods his head and begins to usher me over before he goes to mount Vermithor. 

Vermithor and Silverwing shoot to the skies and give out victorious growls. I look down at Vermithors claws as Coles headless body is being paraded through the air. He slides low to the Green host and they falter as they take on the body hanging above them. 

“Your Kingmaker is dead and your King dies at Harrenhal.” Ben proclaims as we fly along the walls. 

A loud grumble comes from the clouds and my heart stops as I see a large shadow approaching. As the dragon comes into view I squint my eyes trying to figure out who it is. It’s not Vhagar or any other I’ve ever seen. Silverwing chirps and flies to meet the new dragon. I shake my head thinking I must be delusional from blood loss as I spot Rhaena atop this dragon. 

“I figured I would help in the war!” Rhaena calls out as her dragon gives out a fierce cry and I look below as a sob rips through me as I see a grand host from the Vale and the North seeping through the tree lines running to meet the Greens host.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Harrenhal Pov:

Caraxes and Vhagar circle each other around the body of water and give out low grumbles. The sky begins to cry as the dragons close in on one another. The Blood Wyrm quickly twists around the old fossil as she barely turns in time for the first snap of teeth. Vhagar gives out a loud cry as Caraxes sinks his teeth into her neck. 

Vhagar pulls away from Caraxes and breathes fire upon him and Daemon. Daemon flies through the flame and straight for Vhagars rider. Aemond dips, narrowly avoiding Caraxes maw. They pull back from one another and the dragons circle above the water once more.

“You have lived long enough,” Aemond calls across the skies to Daemon. 

“Something we agree upon,” Daemon chuckles as he begins to unclip from Caraxes. 

The world seems to hold its breath as Daemon unsheathes Dark Sister and points to Aemond and Vhagar. Caraxes flies quick and hard latching onto Vhagar. Daemon jumps from his dragon to Aemond landing on Vhagars head. He sprints down on uneven feet as Aemond struggles to get his weapon or unclip from his saddle. 

“For my Queen,” Daemon roars as he pierces Dark Sisters through Aemonds one eye before everything goes black.

The dragon’s give out a cry and spiral down to the water. The impact could be felt well over a hundred miles. Blood rain falls from the sky as the false King and the Rogue Prince implode to their watery grave. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

3rd person Rhaenyra Pov: 

Addam has been sent to recruit the small folk and hand out armor and weapons for those willing and able. Rhaenyra has slipped into the castle through the tunnels and has made quick work of finding her loyalists. She makes it to the throne room and lets out a breathy laugh. Alicent and Helaena are brought in and kneel before her. 

“Rhaenyra please,” Alicent pleads from her knees as Rhaenyra holds a blade to her throat. 

“You brought this upon yourself.” she looks down to Alicent with contempt. 

“The Kings are dead.” Helaena speaks softly from her place next to Alicent. 

“Which ones?” Rhaenyra turns her head to Helaena lowering the blade from Alicents throat. 

“All of them.” Helaena shakes her head and Rhaenyras blade falls out of her hand. 

“Ring the bells to let-“ 

“Your Grace, another dragon and a host.” Addam bursts through the throne room doors breathing heavily.

“Who?” Rhaenyra looks at him confused. 

“They say Rhaena with a host from the Vale and North.” Addam takes in the scene before him. 

“She’s done it.” Rhaenyra smiles breathing out a sigh of triumph and relief.

“They also say that Ben and Vermithor are flying around Coles headless body above the host. He carries his head on his back.” Alicent lets out a soft sob at his words. 

“Your son’s are dead. Your Kingmaker has been beheaded. You are surrounded. Ring the bells and save your remaining men.” Rhaenyra looks down to Alicent. 

“The common folk will remember this destruction.” Alicent narrows her eyes at Rhaenyra. 

“They fight your host from within the walls. You have lost.” Rhaenyra tugs Alicent up harshly and begins to bring her to the bell tower. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n Pov: 

My head cranes to the city as the bells begin to toll. All of the dragons surround the city and  give out one last cry before they start to the Keep. As we look down the fighting is slowing and swords are being lowered. I’m in awe as we fly through the city at the amount of small folk that are pushing the Greens out of the gates. 

Baela and Jace come into view and tears start sliding down my face as I see them unscathed and safe. Rhaena comes from behind the Keep with Addam trailing close behind her. Our dragons follow Syraxs call and we land perched on the main gates. 

We all dismount and make it down to the main courtyard. We all look to each other and my siblings take in mine and Ben’s appearance. Their eyebrows furrow as they see my cut and look to our blood and dirt covered bodies. I turn to Ben and see Cole’s head bouncing against his back as he approaches me. Vermithor lets out a low growl and flings Cole’s body to the center of the yard. 

“I see burning people wasn’t enough for you both.” Jaces voice drowns out as me and Ben look to each other. 

“Let’s find a witch to bring him back. I want to kill him slower.” his voice rough as he tilts my chin to look at my cut. 

“I’m okay.” I look up to him taking in the death that remains in his eyes. 

“We will find you a maester at once.” he pulls me with him into the castle. 

“Where are you two going?” Baela yells after us. 

I tug him to the throne room thankful he doesn’t know where the maesters chambers are. I must see my mother. I need to know who rang those bells and what it means. As the doors groan under my hands I behold my mother atop the throne with her crown on her brow. 

“Daughter,” Rhaenyra rises taking in my state. “My children,” her voice wavers as the rest of my siblings trail in behind me and Ben. 

“My Queen,” I bow. 

“Call for a maester,” Rhaenyra flicks her head to Jace and he’s out in the hall shouting in seconds. 

I huff as he brings in a maester who sits me on a chair and begins to clean my wound. Ben holds my hand as the maester beings to stitch up my cheek. Rhaenyra is lowly talking to my siblings about how their plans went and she finally turns to me and Ben. 

“I wish to see the head.” Rhaenyras voice travels through the hall. 

“The rest of him is in the courtyard.” Ben rises from my side and pulls the head from his back. He offers her the head holding it by his hair. 

“You’ve done me a great service, Benjicot.” she shakes her head at a loss for words. “What happened to your cheek?” Rhaenyra turns her attention to me. 

“Cole.” I say trying to steady my breathing as the maester pulls the thread in and out of my flesh for his last stitch.

“You fool,” she shakes her head before she leans down and engulfs me in a hug before she turns back to the group of us.

“We’ve done it, gather the remaining Lords so we may start about clearing out the traitors and moving forward.” she turns and nods her head to us. “Ben, Y/n,” she stops us before we exit.

“Yes?” we turn back to her. 

“I have one more immeasurable favor to ask of you both.” she whispers down to us. 

“Say it and it will be done.” I look to her with tired eyes but ready to do what she needs. 

“Go to Harrenhal and see what remains.” her voice barely a murmur as her eyes begin to tear. 

“We will go at once,” I nod my head. 

She walks out of the Keep with us as we take in the dragons and the wall crumbling under their claws. Her head snaps to the rest of Coles body that remains in the center of the courtyard. From beyond the gates we hear shouts and cries of agony from the people who were not as lucky. 

“Fly safe and stay together.” she pulls me and Ben into a tight hug. “Please return to me.” her voice a whisper as she looks to both of us. 

Ben turns to me and we finally have a moment alone to ourselves. I look into his eyes and he seems to be coming down from his adrenaline still. I wrap my arms around him and he holds me tightly against him. I care not of our blood and dirt and pull his lips to mine feverishly.

“I want you to fly with me and Vermithor,” he looks down to me separating our lips. 

“Ben, I’m fine,” I sigh looking up to him.

“I know, but I just want you by me.” his hold on me tightens.

“Then ask Silverwing,” I relent and he pulls away to turn to my dragon as I walk to his.

“You flew valiantly today, my beautiful Silverwing. Will you allow Y/n to fly with me and Vermithor on our next journey?” I turn from Verithors neck and see Silverwing nudge into Ben before he starts towards me.

“Up you go.” he softly tugs me towards his wings and I begin my climb. We quickly settle and take flight. Silverwing flies next to us and they both give out a victorious song to the men below before we coast out on the horizon.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

As we enter the Riverlands we can feel the great loss in the air. The clouds weep, cleaning off some of our blood and dirt as we make our way to the ruined castle. Our dragons give out low grumbles as we approach Harrenhal and begin to make our descent outside the main gates. 

Ben helps me off refusing to let me do anything on my own. He has a hand pressed against me at all times and grabs my hand for his own once we make it the ground. The heaviness in the air is unsettling while the wind sings an eerie song. 

The castle grounds are silent. We saw no dragons on approach and hear nothing as we look around for any sign of a threat. As we turn my heart goes to my throat as Alys appears. 

“Where are they?” I ask pulling the bone knife from its sheath and pointing it at her. 

“I would think you wouldn’t be so quick to show your child more death and violence. Though, you are your father’s child..” she trails off with a smile. 

“My child?” my eyebrows furrow as I raise the knife even higher. 

“The one you’ve been carrying for a moon now.” she nods to me and looks to Ben. I bring my free hand to my abdomen and try to think of any signs that her words are true. “I may have played mind games with your father but I can’t slip through your bond with the child’s father. He’s very protective.” she chuckles to Ben who is now trying to push me behind him. 

“Where is my father?” my voice wavers as my mind already knows the answer. 

“You’ll find him under the Gods Eye.” her skirts swish as she disappears behind the walls once more. 

“Stay with the dragons and I will go.” he looks down to me intensely. 

“You will not start with this overprotective male dominance now.” I huff as I try to walk past him but he grabs my arm to stop me. 

“Y/n,” he looks to me with pleading eyes as his hand travels to my lower abdomen. 

“After I find my father,” I shake my head and pull him along with me. 

We walk silently to the body of water just beyond the crumbling fortress. Our dragons follow behind us the ground shaking at their heavy steps. As we approach my breath catches taking in the blood splattered around the shores. 

Pieces of the once great dragons are jutting through the surface of the water. I can tell it’s both dragons by their coloring and a sob bubbles out of my mouth. My hand slips from Ben’s as I fall to my knees on the shore looking on at the still water. He kneels next to me and hugs me tightly. 

“I have to go find him.” I shake my head as tears begin to slip down my cheeks. 

I rise and start to walk into the once clear water that seems to now be stained a blush pink. Water licks at my thighs until I begin to start my swim. I swim around the masses in the water until I spot Caraxes. As I dip my head under the water to look for him my stitched cut screams in agony. 

I pull up for breath and begin to move around to see if I can find him anywhere else. I’ve been searching around Caraxes and have found nothing so I relent and begin my search around Vhagar. Ben shouts at me from the shore but I can’t abandon this search. 

As I dip down under the surface again my eyes blurry I spot Aemond in Vhagars saddle. I slip above the water to take in a deep breath before I dive down. My eyes bulge as I take in Dark Sister pierced through his remaining eye. I quickly scan the area and my remaining air bubbles out of my mouth as I see Daemon resting on the rocky bottom. I swim to the top and let out a loud sob. 

“Ben, I need you,” I cry and he’s running into the water and at my side in seconds. 

We swim below the surface and I rip Dark Sister from Aemonds head as Ben begins to lift and pull Daemons body to the surface. I grab on and help him carry him to shore. As we finally make it to the sands I sit silently looking down at his blade. 

“I-“ I shake my head as tears begin falling down my face. 

I let out a grief stricken scream and Silverwing quickly approaches the shores and curls near me. Ben holds me to him as my sobs continue to wreck me. My breathing finally settles and he looks up to me with sad eyes while wiping them away with his thumbs. 

“We need to prepare his body to bring back home.” I sniffle before getting to my feet.

“I’ll go see if there’s a maester or someone,” Ben rises wiping the sand off of him. 

“I told him he would die here.” Alys comes from the other side of the shore. 

“Are you just here to mock me and speak in riddles?” I yell exasperated. 

“I’ve brought this for your cheek. It’ll heal it better than those stitches.” she offers me a cup and I look at the foul smelling paste. “I’m also the only maester, if that’s what you want to call me, and I can prepare his body for your travels.” she offers and I cant tell if she’s sincere or not so I turn to Ben hoping he will deal with this situation for me. 

“What is this paste?” he grabs the cup from my hands. 

“Your dragons wouldn’t allow me to poison the mother of your child. Use it or don’t.” she chuckles turning her head to look at our dragons. 

“I want his body treated with respect. Bound and wrapped tastefully befitting a King. All of his armor is to be cleaned and properly packed so we may travel with ease. We will take our old chambers while you finish your work.” Ben pulls me to his side as we begin to walk to the castle once more. 

Our feet drag up the stairs as we stop in front of familiar doors. Ben pushes them open and escorts me to a chair to sit down. I place Dark Sister next to me and let out a shaky sigh. He kneels in front of me and locks his eyes with mine. 

“I’m sorry,” his words soft as he places the cup with the paste next to me and grabs my hands. 

“I had hoped he would make it.” tears still slide down my cheeks as he pulls me down into a hug.

“It seems as if Alys made you a bath. Let me clean you and help you relax.” he hums standing with me. 

He walks me to the bath and begins to remove my stained armor. I peel off my clothes as he starts to take off his armor. When he removes his shirt I can see small cuts littering his skin and I look at him with sad but thankful eyes that he’s still with me. He helps me slide into the bath and takes a seat next to me. 

The warm water lulls my muscles and I lean back resting my head on the lip of the small pool. I feel the water shift and he starts to undo my braids releasing their tension. I sigh in relief and allow my eyes to drift shut. He brings a cloth and soap to begin wiping my skin as I relax further into the water. 

“Do you want to try her paste?” his voice soft as I crack an eye open. 

“Sure, if anything bad happens Silverwing will eat her.” I shrug as he rises out of the bath. 

“I will kill her myself if she causes harm to you.” his voice trails to me from the couch before he returns. 

He applies a generous amount of paste to his fingers and brings his free hand to my jaw to tilt my head. I look up to him expectantly as he lowers his fingers to my cheek. I wince as the cold paste slides down my face and a shiver travels my spine as I feel the wound dispelling the stitches and doing its own work. 

“It’s healed.” his words almost a question as he tilts my head. He brings his hand up and shows me the black thread that was once holding my cheek. “That means she wasn’t lying.” his hand slides from my chin and he places it on my stomach. 

“Ben,” his name falls from my mouth as I allow myself to finally think about Alys’ words and the life growing inside me. 

“The mother of my children, my Princess, my wife.” his words filled with devotion as his lips softly press against mine. 

I let his lips wash away the day and all that’s come with it. His hand resting on my lower abdomen slides a little lower and I moan into his mouth as he circles my clit. His lips kiss down my now healed cheek and licks around my pulse. 

“I can’t wait to see you growing with our child.” he whispers in my ear as he dips his fingers into my core. “You’re gunna be even more beautiful.” I rest my head on his shoulder as my hips grind into his hand as my pleasure is already washing through me from my heightened emotions.

“Come let’s get you into bed while I find you some clothes. I’m sure we’ve left some behind.” he helps me out of the tub and walks me over to the bed always keeping a hand placed on me. 

“Ben I’m not going to break, I just fought alongside you in a war.” I huff but still allowing him to pull the covers over my body. 

“Do not remind me.” his rage seeps off of him. 

“Don’t work yourself up again.” I roll my eyes chuckling. “Come to bed, let’s forget today for a little while.” I pout my lips trying to pull him in with me. 

“I must find you clothes and food and a drink. Is there anything else?” he rambles as he begins walking to the doors. 

“Maybe some clothes for yourself? I know Harrenhal is empty but I don’t think the ghosts want you walking around nude.” I shake my head smiling. 

He pulls open the wardrobe and quickly slides on some pants and continues to rifle through what we’ve left. He pulls out wrinkled shirt next and shrugs before putting it on. He finds the shortest slip that’s been made in all of the seven kingdoms apparently and tosses it to me on the bed. 

“Now you have clothes.” he nods to himself before slipping out the door. I sigh and slip the piece of fabric on nonetheless. I pull the blankets closer and allow my eyes to rest while he’s off on his hunt. 

“I found some meat and cake and that’s about it.” Ben pushes the doors open jolting me awake. “And water. I’ve also spoken with Alys.” I stretch out wiping my eyes. 

“Pray tell what more Alys had to say.” I sigh as I hold my hands out expectantly for my water. 

“Just that she’ll have everything prepared for us by the morning. I’ve sent a raven to  Rhaenrya telling her that we will return tomorrow.” he hands me my glass of water and sits on the bed next to me with the tray of food. 

“You didn’t deliver the news of Daemon in that letter, did you?” I pull the cup from my lips. 

“No, she needs to see for herself.” he shakes his head. He starts to cut up the meat on the tray and goes to feed it to me. 

“Benjicot Blackwood,” I scold. “What happened to the man who made me and Silverwing hunt for him and his dragon?” I raise my eyebrows as a smile plays on my lips. 

“Shh, I’ll be the man now.” he tries to hide his smile as I accept the meat from the fork. 

“Then that means no more jumping off of Vermithor into the middle of a war.” I narrow my eyes at him as I accept another mouthful. 

“I was wondering when you would yell at me about that.” he says sheepishly. 

“I was so fucking scared. I thought my heart was going to stop. Never do that again.” I furrow my brows. “You did look incredibly fierce doing it though.” I whisper and his eyes snap to mine. 

“Fierce, hm?” he smiles down to me. 

“And fucking stupid.” I push him back as he chuckles. 

“Well let’s hope our child takes after you.” his smile is soft as he sits up. 

“Do you wish for a boy or a girl?” I hum as he starts to feed me cake. 

“I care not.” his smile widens. 

“I hope for a girl, so I think we’ll have a boy.” I chuckle accepting more of the sweet dessert. 

“Then we’ll have as many until we get a girl.” he discards the tray on the ground to bring his full attention to me. 

“We shall see what the Gods grant us.” I hum pulling him into a kiss. “Did you not bring any food for yourself?” I pull back looking to him. 

“I ate as your food was being prepared. I wanted to have a different kind of dessert.” his eyes darken and he crawls over me kissing me once more. 

My thighs spread as he settles between them. He licks and kisses down my neck before circling his tongue over my covered nipples. I whine as he scrapes his teeth around them before snaking his way lower. He places featherlight kisses down my slit as I sigh, bucking my hips to his face. 

His tongue juts out and offers small licks to my sensitive bud as I softly pant above him. His lips encase me while his tongue lashes against me quickly. My hand goes to his hair as I grind against his mouth and chase my pleasure. His other hand interlocks with my free hand as he continues with his tongue. 

“Ben, fuck,” I cry as I arch off the bed. 

He licks down my center and pushes his tongue into me as I gasp trying to catch my breath. He brings his other hand to circle along my bud as his tongue laps at my wetness. I explode across his face and he continues licking to clean me off. I sigh as my body melts into the bed as he comes to lay at my side. 

“What of you?” I say my eyes barely open as I go to reach for his length. 

“I’m okay, my love. Rest.” he grabs my hand and kisses my forehead as I curl into him allowing my mind to forget all of the bad today and only think of the good. 

We’ve taken Kings Landing. My mother sits the throne. My cheek is healed. I have a life growing inside me. I have a man who is absolutely devoted to me at my side awaiting the day we can marry and I can’t wait to marry him. I drift off contented listening to his heartbeat. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌 

Part 8

ik i said 3 more parts 2 parts ago which means only one more after this but that’s just not enough?? and now i want to write abt them being happy and married and with kids wtfff are ppl down for that or do i do a spin off series??? like lmk bc i want more than just an epilogue and a glimpse like no i want to see this man waiting on you hand and foot and being absolutely OBSESSED with you pregnant with his child 

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @anaviieiraaa @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @zanygot7straykidsbonk

if I missed anyone lmk!

[talesofesther]

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐂𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: Things will start to get interesting now, let me know your thoughts. <3

Word count: 4,9k

Masterlist | Previous chapter (prologue)

You breathed in deeply, closing your eyes and leaning your head back with both arms open lazily beside your body, wind flowing quickly in between your fingers. The skies were clear, morning sunlight reflecting against ashen blue scales as your dragon's wings stretched to their full size.

Dancing and gliding in between clouds, the sky was yours.

As you opened your eyes, you were greeted with a sight that would always leave you breathless, no matter how many times you'd be privileged to witness it. The lands below seemed small, castles, houses, and fields afar dwarfed by how far up you were flying. You could see beyond walls and mountains, as far as the horizon allowed. The back of your dragon's head stretched forward in a relaxed manner, seemingly taking in the view just as much as you; the patch of fur in between her long grey horns flew and flowed with the strong breeze.

You reached your arm past your saddle, the palm of your hand laying flat against her warm scales in a loving caress. She cooed, a low groan coming from the back of her throat as she turned her head slightly so her deep blue eyes met yours for only a moment. You smiled. Khamira had grown to be just as big as Meleys, she was all raw power and formidable wildness, and yet, ever so gentle in your hands.

It would never cease to amaze you, how a beast as strong and majestic as a dragon—wings and legs supported by pure muscle, teeth and horns as sharp as daggers, and fire as hot as the hells—could at the same time be this graceful, this agile, and elegant.

Her wings swished with precision, creating ripples in the clouds as if painting a canvas; her long tail kept her body straight and balanced; multiple shades of dark and pale blue shone under the sunlight with each movement of her body. She was poetry in motion, carrying you through the morning sky on her back.

The feeling, the pleasure, of riding on dragonback was incomparable; a mixture of being invincible, untouchable, and yet completely at peace.

You leaned forward at last, uttering a soft command for her to pick up speed and the adrenaline was quick to kiss your cheeks in the form of a heavy wind. Your dragon bomb-dived suddenly, bringing her wings close to her body and her muzzle downwards. An ecstatic laugh escaped your lips as you felt the power of her body moving beneath you, taking you through the air.

She only opened her wings again when you were short of hitting the roof of a tall church, returning to a steady height as you flew fast above King's Landing. The dragon addicted to the rush just as much as you.

If people looked up, they would see nothing but a flash of blue, the silhouette of massive wings and a long tail vanishing just as fast as it came.

For the first time in seven years, you were finally heading back to the Red Keep. Vaemond had called into question Luke's legitimacy of birth, as he was to be Driftmark's heir, prompting you and your family to meet him for the discussion in King's Landing. While the rest of your family came by ship, you chose to ride over on dragonback and meet them there. The swaying of a ship on the ocean's water could make you nauseous, but flying in between clouds always cleared your head and filled your lungs with the fresh air of unabashed freedom.

After bidding goodbye to your loyal dragon as she was guided into the Dragonpit to rest, a carriage took you to the main gates of the Keep. The guards welcomed you with salutes and curtsies, something you were yet to get used to, even with being born into the royal family.

You were headed to the doors of the castle when they were pushed open by an older, bald man. He walked up to you and bowed his head. "Welcome home, my lady. Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra are already inside, they've gone to speak with the King."

Greeting him back with a nod, you smiled softly; "Thank you..." You dragged the word, raking your head to remember who exactly this was.

"Caswell, my lady," he kindly finished for you.

"Thank you, Lord Caswell."

The castle itself was still as grand and majestic as you remembered it to be, in some ways it didn't even feel like the last time you were here was so many years ago. The torches flickered softly along the grand hallways, casting a warm, golden glow on the stone walls as you walked aimlessly. Although you already had a designed room for your stay here, you refrained from changing out of your riding clothes, choosing to stay in black breeches and a long overcoat rather than a silken dress.

You eventually got hold of Jace and Luke who were also wandering about the castle and reminiscing on their childhood here. Despite your differences and disagreements during early childhood, you'd grown closer with both boys during your time at Dragonstone. Quickly enough, between dragon rides at sunset and playing together day in and day out, they became almost like brothers to you.

"It's so cool to be back here," Luke spoke, excitedly walking ahead of you and Jace, "I wonder why we haven't visited more."

"You know why, Luke," Jace raised a brow, his voice holding a smidge of warning to it. "It's not like we parted on the best of terms."

Immediately you knew what he was talking about. You recalled it as if it had been yesterday. Laena's funeral, the commotion in the dead of night, the red of blood, stitches piercing the skin of the prince who'd lost an eye. Your heart sped up then, hands feeling clammy and cold at the same time.

Aemond. He'd be here too, surely. It's been far too long since you've seen him, yet not long enough for you to stop counting the years. Part of you wondered if he did so too.

Something like guilt started weighing down on your stomach, because there had been letters exchanged over the years, mostly holding empty promises that you'd see each other again soon. A young hope that was snuffed out as you got older and wiser; it never happened, it was out of your reach. And for many seasons now, there had been no letters at all. You weren't sure who stopped first, there just came a day when you knew not to send another letter his way, because you wouldn't be getting any back either.

"Why don't we check out the training yard?" You suggested with a grin, "To remember the times when I kicked your butts there." With a giggle, you pushed Jace's shoulder halfheartedly.

"Hey, hey, I don't remember any of that," Jace countered, holding back a smile of his own, whilst Luke was already chuckling with a hand over his mouth.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

The sound of swords clashing was already loud and sharp as you descended the stairs to the training yard; many people were there, some sparring with each other as others watched and clapped and gossiped.

"Looks smaller than I remembered," Luke commented as he glanced around.

"It looks exactly the same," Jace concluded, skipping the last few steps of the stairs and landing on the gravel grounds of the yard. "Come on, you two."

The older of the brothers ran forth to check a dent in the stone walls, a mark of their old training days here. You, on the other hand, stopped to check out the weapons displayed for choice on the tables; maces, morningstars, swords, and daggers.

A faint smile came to your lips. The smell of smoke and sweat, the clash of metal, the grunts and cheering of the soldiers—it all reminded you of cherished memories. Firstly, of the first lessons your father had ever given you, sword all too big and heavy in your small hands, you were only five, yet he insisted that regardless if you were a boy or girl, you should learn how to fight; you still remember the first time you were finally able to best him in combat, you were ten, it took you five years but you had done it; Daemon smiled the biggest on that day, telling everyone how his daughter was a born fighter. And secondly, came the memory of your sparring sessions with Aemond when you were young, he'd refused to put up a fight in the beginning, afraid he'd hurt you; but he started to give you a fair fight when you'd bested him the second time around; you still remember how he'd run around the castle, searching for you and then holding onto your hand to lead you to the training yard, "You're too slow," he used to say with a smile, "If I don't drag you around we won't be there on time."

Part of you wished those moments were infinite.

By the time your mind returned to the present, Luke and Jace had joined you. Jace began picking up the weapons on the table with an excited grin; yet Luke seemed on edge, glancing around himself and at the piercing gazes on your backs from the people here. You felt it too, the judgment and the whispers.

"What's wrong, Luke?" You asked, one hand reaching up to touch his arm comfortingly.

The boy furrowed his brows in discomfort, head hanging low. "Everyone's staring at us."

A soft grimace passed over your features as you tilted your head at him, eyes glinting with silent understanding. In part, you knew what he was feeling, you'd received your fair share of odd glances when at court as well; you were a royal prince's daughter yet had hair in the shade of the warmest grey that almost resembled brown in certain lights, and eyes as dark as the night sky, so of course, people would talk.

"No one would question me being heir to Driftmark," Luke spoke, his tone a mix of frustrated and defeated as he still avoided your gaze, "If... if I looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon, than Ser Harwin Strong."

"It doesn't matter what they think," Jace at last spoke up, ducking his head to meet his brother's eyes.

"He's right, Luke," you reassured, "Don't mind them."

A sudden crash of something heavy hitting a wooden shield caught your attention then, and all three of you turned around to watch as a small crowd gathered around two people sparring. Luke and Jace ran toward it to watch, so you followed close behind, squeezing yourself past and between a few people so you didn't have to stand on your tiptoes to catch glimpses of the fight.

One of the two you recognized almost instantly, Ser Criston Cole, you had never particularly been too fond of him. The other, who still had his back to you, you hadn't recognized, even if there was something familiar about the way he moved. His long silver hair bounced over his shoulders as he dodged Cole's attacks quite expertly; his movements swift, calculated, and still somehow elegant. The shield held by the mysterious man broke and he threw it aside without a second thought, going in for another attack. The sword cut through the air, Cole's morningstar slammed into the ground, and finally, the silver-haired man turned in your direction.

A teasing grin and an eyepatch framed the sharp features of the young man, his single bright eye glinting under the hazy sunlight as he held the sword with a firm grip, ready for another attack.

You felt as if all air suddenly left your lungs and refused to come back, your lips hanging open as your gaze was all but locked onto him. Aemond. You'd recognize him anywhere, in any lifetime, you feared. He looked so different yet somehow still the same; his hair was much longer, features older and sharper as he'd grown over the years; his harsh scar, you noticed, was now fully healed, and yet still evident as a reminder of the fateful night he'd claimed Vhagar and lost his eye; but his smile seemed to be the same you were used to, that mischievous tilt of lips he'd wear against his opponents.

A smile of your own began to stretch your lips and you took half a step toward him before stopping yourself, your heart beat painfully against your ribs and in your ears, bringing a nearly nauseous twist to your guts. It felt as if your body had trouble picking an emotion upon seeing Aemond again after all these years.

You'd wished, prayed even, for the day you'd finally be able to meet one of your best friends again; the lonely, outcast boy you had grown so fond of over the course of mere months. The one you had shared most of your afternoons in the Red Keep with, the one who'd steal you away to the library to share tales of the old dragons. Yet seeing him now, after so many seasons of pure silence, you had no idea where you stood with him.

The fight ended with Aemond holding the sharp end of his sword against Cole's neck, staring him down as a dragon would with its prey.

"Well done, my prince," Ser Criston spoke, rather breathless from the exertion, "You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

"I don't give a shit about tourneys," Aemond answered back without pause, his tone filled with finality and eye holding a piercing stare. "My lady," he said then, voice just a tad softer, whether he meant for it or not. Twisting the hilt in his hand, Aemond lowered his sword, his gaze now landing on you. "Have you come to train?"

You were unable to hold back a small gasp as he addressed you so directly. Your whole body tensed up, part of you wanted to answer yet any and all words were completely tangled in your tongue. You could faintly feel Jace's hand on your shoulder yet you barely registered the touch, unable to tear your eyes away from Aemond. And he held your gaze with his unwavering one, almost challenging you to break the connection.

It felt all kinds of wrong, for this to be your reunion and first words to each other after so long, for Aemond's words and gaze to be this... cold. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

You were saved by the sudden opening of the heavy doors of the gate behind you. Soldiers marched through with proud strides as they escorted Vaemond Velaryon into the castle.

Even as you turned around to watch their entrance, you could feel how Aemond's gaze didn't leave you even for a moment.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

A storm raged outside during your first night back in the Keep, you didn't sleep much, tossing and turning in bed and pacing around the spacious room they'd given you. Part of you almost wanted to step outside into the dark hallways of the castle and head to Aemond's room. It would be improper of you, but that's not why you did not go.

When the morrow came at last with the sun rising on the horizon of King's Landing, it was time to head into the throne room to discuss what you had come here for, the succession of Driftmark.

A small crowd of lords and ladies had already gathered in the large room, with Otto Hightower standing before the grim Iron Throne. The image of the seat of swords, being highlighted by the sunlight coming through the tall windows, would always make a shiver run down your spine.

You walked in with steady steps, sensing a few eyes land on you as you smoothed the fabric of your dress—hardly your preferred choice of attire, but Rhaenyra might just have your head if you showed up in your riding clothes. She, her sons, and your father were already here as well.

Daemon spotted you from the corner of his eyes, he squeezed Rhaenyra's hand once before stepping away from her to walk toward you.

"Father," you spoke in a low voice when he met you halfway. Over his shoulder, you caught sight of Aemond, who stood near the Iron Throne with his family; for a small moment, you held his gaze, even if you couldn't possibly read it.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show up," Daemon raised his brows at you, a rather amused grin playing on his lips.

"Oh, you know me," you chuckled quietly, shrugging your shoulders as you continued walking to where Rhaenyra waited, "I wouldn't miss court drama for anything."

Daemon snorted, uncaring if his laugh would attract the attention of the nearby lords, "Yeah, tell me about it." He brought a hand up to rest between your shoulder blades, guiding you through the remaining steps. "It's like they look for reasons to break any resemblance of peace we might have."

You hummed at his words, biting back a laugh of your own, "Se iēdrosa, Rhaenyra ivestretan nyke ao gaomagon naejot mōris se lyks aōla gō īlen āzma." ('And yet, Rhaenyra tells me you used to raise quite the trouble yourself before I was born.')

"Kessa, sȳrī, īlen drējī tolī kirimves skori paktot zirȳ, mērī." Daemon defended halfheartedly. ('Yes, well, I was admittedly more fun than these people, at least.')

"Hen rhinka," you mumbled, stopping beside Rhaenyra and greeting her with a warm smile. ('Of course')

From the other side of the room, the one-eyed prince watched. He'd kept his eye fixed on you as soon as you stepped through the throne room doors. His hands clasped behind his back tightened their grip with each step you took. And for each of your steps, his heart beat twice as hard, heavy and hurting for an escape.

It was true that you had grown into a stunning young woman over the years; enticing curves, soft hair falling over your shoulders, freckles still dusting your cheeks and nose, delicate hands holding onto the fabric of your dress. Many gazes turned your way whenever you walked into a room, it came as no surprise to Aemond, even if it bothered him.

And yet it wasn't just that, no; he could see so far beyond, that same spark in your eyes lingered, the one he'd see each time he'd ask you to tell him the story of how you found your dragon; that same smile that was so contagious still had the same sway to it; your mere presence still made his heart race and hands itch to touch you, as it always did.

Aemond thought, perhaps wished, he would have forgotten all about you over the years. You had abandoned him, after all. You had abandoned him, maybe at a time when he needed you the most. His only friend, and you never came back.

The prince had waited, for nights and days on end, he'd stare out the windows to the horizon and past the sea, hoping with all he had that one day he'd spot the blue hue of your dragon's scales in the distance. And he knew he'd cry, and run to you, and hold you close no matter who was watching. But it never happened, you never came. And the years kept on going by, years of which he kept a close count. By year three, he decided he wouldn't feel within the right to hug you anymore. By year four, he decided he wouldn't cry anymore. By year six, he decided it would be best you didn't come back anymore.

Alas, perhaps he could have gone to you. But he hesitated, he knew he wouldn't be welcomed in Dragonstone; and after a few years went by, as much as Aemond would never admit it, he lacked the courage to go after you. In the most fragile parts of his heart, he feared you'd react as all ladies of the court did when they looked at him; with wide-eyed gazes and poorly concealed whispers about his ugly scar and 'off-putting demeanor', as they'd say.

Yet he had missed you, oh he missed you. In a way that he'd walk into every room hoping to find you there. And now, it finally happened. You came back to King's Landing, but you didn't come back for him.

Aemond watched as you walked into the room, your father meeting you halfway and guiding you to your family. The prince felt a tightness build in his throat, he tried to gulp it back, squaring his shoulders. Even after all these years, all it took was one look at you, and Aemond's resolve crumbled. All his attempts at putting you behind him were suddenly futile, if the speed at which his heart was racing was any indication.

Yesterday, when Aemond spotted you in the small crowd of the training yard, he nearly lost his balance, nearly lost the fight. Seeing you again after so long brought an onslaught of confusing feelings to his chest—one of them being petty bitterness, perhaps even betrayal, despite not having the right to feel so, for seeing you stand beside Jace and Luke so amicably—he hardly knew what to think or do; all he knew was that he was angry that you'd abandoned him. Or perhaps just hurt, but broken things tend to have sharp edges.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

You held back a scream as the severed head of Vaemond Velaryon fell from his body, staining the floor of the throne room with deep crimson blood. Your father had unceremoniously beheaded the Velaryon knight after he accused Rhaenyra's sons of being bastards. You watched the gruesome scene with wide eyes, goosebumps on your skin, and a hand clasped over your mouth.

"Disarm him!" Otto Hightower screamed to the guards, who readily took to their weapons and surrounded Daemon.

"No need," the Rogue Prince uttered all too calmly, cleaning the blood off the blade of his sword with the hem of his clothing. He then extended said sword to you, without bothering to look in your direction.

You hesitated for only a second before taking Dark Sister from him, and once you did so, Daemon raised both hands in surrender; yet a smug smirk still played on his lips.

You held tight onto the hilt of his sword, until your knuckles turned white, watching as the room filled with fearful whispers and terrified gazes of everyone around you. All eyes were seemingly glued to the pool of blood on the floor that only got larger by the second.

"We are done here," Viserys spoke with finality to the best of his ability, before falling back on his throne as the pain of his wounds filled his decaying body.

Slowly and hesitantly, people began leaving the room, a certain eeriness lingered in the air. From afar, you met your father's gaze, and he simply gave you a curt nod, which meant you'd be giving him his sword back in private, later. He'd told you once; "People don't usually fear women with swords, even if they should. Therein lies your advantage."

Beside the Iron Throne, a few steps away from you, Alicent ran to help her husband, Aegon followed after the guards who began removing the lifeless body, Helaena skipped to the main doors with her hands covering her ears, and Aemond... Aemond had his eye burning a hole in the back of your head.

You would be able to feel the weight of his gaze on you from a mile away, you had been feeling it since you took the first step into this room. Part of you hoped he'd have come to you already, you weren't sure what you were expecting exactly, but so far the words he'd spoken to you in the training yard had been the only ones he'd spoken at all. And you were starting to think that, if you didn't go to him, you'd remain forever far apart.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, and then another, and one more, tapping the hilt of Dark Sister with your pointer finger until you built up the courage or until your palms grew sweaty. A sorrowful feeling still lingered deep within your chest, because this was Aemond, the same Aemond you spent nearly entire days with during your childhood, be it training together, sharing stories, or hiding away in the library. You shouldn't be feeling hesitant to face him.

It felt almost as if he had been waiting for you, because as soon as you turned around to face him, Aemond raised his chin a tad, blinking slowly as he watched you walk over to him.

All you could hear was the beating of your heart as you came to stop in front of him, holding tight onto the sword in your hands, its end resting on the floor as you kept it between you and him. "Hello... Aemond." It was the best you could do, voice still too unsure for your liking.

For a moment, Aemond seemed to be hesitating just as much as you. His eye flicked with an emotion you couldn't name, but it was quick and gone as soon as it came. "My lady."

The formality felt wrong and unwanted, like taking a thousand steps backward from what you had once been to each other. Your lips parted but you didn't quite know what to say, so for a moment, you just looked at him, at the new him. The long hair fell over his shoulders, eyepatch covering the deep scar, his perfectly straight posture, and tense shoulders. You saw then, that there was an undeniable wall between you, that Aemond had his guard up and was keeping you at a safe, far distance. It hurt, more than you had the right to feel.

"I'm- It's good to see you again," you stumbled over the words, trying a smile.

Aemond hummed, giving you an almost imperceptible nod in return. For long beats, that was all. He refused to look you in the eyes. "It's been a long time," he chose to say eventually, voice devoid of too much emotion.

Distantly, you felt the back of your eyes burn. "Seven years," you said in nothing but a whisper, as if you could only admit the unfairness of it at a certain decibel level.

"And four months," Aemond finished, his voice just a tad tighter and strained, breath running shallow as he strived to keep his face impassive.

His words took you by surprise, you couldn't help the way your lips parted and the way your heartbeat quickened. He'd kept count, too.

Aemond pursed his lips with something resembling a small pout, he glanced at you briefly as he slowly started walking towards the doors of the throne room, silently beckoning you to follow, his hands still tightly clasped behind his back.

You kept at his side, choosing your words carefully; "I hope... you've been faring well, my prince?"

A low hum came from Aemond again, "As well as a half blind man can be, yes." He stole another glance at you, feeling his heart swell at the fact you'd kept in mind to stay on his good eye's side. "I assume your time at Dragonstone has been a most joyful one?"

You caught the bite at his words then, the concealed hurt. A sigh fell past your lips, the sound of Valyrian steel against stone each time you took a step and tapped Dark Sister on the floors now becoming sharp and loud, as the room was empty, save for you and Aemond. "It was, at times, yes. But I also missed the liveliness of the Keep... on most days." I missed you, you refrained from saying.

Another hum, another beat of silence, as you neared the doors. "I hear you came on dragonback." Aemond observed.

A small smile tugged at your lips; "I did. I've always favored the skies over the seas."

If you looked at Aemond, you'd see him mimicking your soft smile for once. "On that we agree."

Once you reached the main entrance, Aemond stopped, and you had a feeling that regardless of which way you were headed, he'd be going the opposite direction.

He held his stance, chin high, shoulders tensed, hands behind his back. His breath ran shallow and shaky, however, hanging on by a thread under the weight and warmth of your presence; so close.

And you looked up at him, with big and vulnerable eyes. Part of Aemond had always admired how you had a habit of wearing your heart on your sleeve. And he was well aware that if he held your gaze much longer, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together.

"I will see you again soon then, my prince." You spoke with a tight lipped smile.

Yet what were simple words to you, brought back the memories of the last time you'd promised to see him soon, and instead left him alone for seven years. Aemond's sight grew blurry at the edges, and before you could see the tears collecting in the bottom lid of his eye, he cleared his throat and made his way around you.

You watched, with a heavy heart, as he walked away from you, one hand reaching up to his face as his steps quickened.

Your stomach dropped with a mix of guilt and longing, wondering if the distance between you had become one too big to ever be mended.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter

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[ginxyy]

Catching Flights & Feelings

A man who travels a lot falls in love with a flight attendant he always sees.

Every time the airplane doors slid shut and the familiar hum of the engines filled the cabin, a flutter of excitement ignited within you. There, among the rows of seats and the soft murmur of passengers settling in, you found your rhythm. You had mastered the art of the skies, weaving through clouds with an elegance that could only be embraced by those who belonged to this world. But this time was different, and you felt it in every fiber of your being.

As you prepared for the safety demonstration, a familiar figure settled into his seat. Seungcheol, the charming man from Seventeen, had taken a spot in your section yet again. You had seen him countless times on your flights, flashing his twinkling smile and reverberating with an unmistakable aura that made him a beacon of warmth in a bustling, often chaotic environment. His fame was undeniable—his name echoed in the whispers of your colleagues and the excited chatter of fans during layovers but to you, he was just Seungcheol.

You grinned, feeling a spark of mischief dance behind your eyes. “Ready for takeoff, Mr. Celebrity?” you teased, your playful tone slicing through the air like a gentle breeze. You leaned in, letting a hint of flirtation lace your words, and watched as his cheeks flushed a shade of crimson that would put roses to shame.

“Only if you’re serving the drinks today,” he responded, winking at you with that disarming charm. His eyes held a twinkle that made your heart thump louder than the engines’ roar.

You resumed your duties, but not before braving a last glance at him. In that fleeting moment, you imagined the unexplored depths beneath his public persona and what it would be like to peel back the layers, uncovering the man hidden behind the celebrated façade. Unbeknownst to you, he was just as enamored with you as you were with him.

The days turned into weeks, and each flight became a cherished ritual. You found yourself counting down the hours until you could see him again. The more you spoke, the more a comfortable rhythm developed between you a playful banter that ignited during each in-flight encounter. You joked about turbulence, made puns about jet lag, and learned how to flirt through simple glances. If someone had told you that you could fall so hard over high altitudes and the scent of recycled air, you would have laughed. But here you were, caught in the spell of this endearing connection.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day filled with delays and turbulence, you were surprised to see Seungcheol waiting at the gate, a bright smile illuminating his face. He was flanked by a small group of fans, yet his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made the world around you blur.

“Want to grab drinks after the flight?” he asked innocently, as if it were the most natural of propositions.

“Are we really going to discuss drinks? It’s the third time this week you’ve asked me out on a flight my heart can only take so much of the turbulence,” you teased, unable to suppress the way your smile widened.

He chuckled, the sound bubbling up like champagne. “So you admit you like it. I’m getting somewhere, then. What’ll it be? A flight to nowhere? I promise I’m an excellent co-pilot.”

“Just as long as I’m in the captain’s seat,” you flirted back, feeling the thrill of anticipation tingle through your stomach.

Following that, a spontaneous series of adventures unfolded between you both, hidden from the prying eyes of the world. Late-night conversations in airport lounges turned into coffee breaks in the bustling streets of Tokyo, and you found joy in navigating cities while flirting like teenagers. Seungcheol relished the simple pleasures, basking in the joy of being with someone who viewed him through a lens unclouded by fame.

“Do you know what I like most about you?” he asked one afternoon as the spring breeze whispered through the cherry blossoms around you.

“What’s that?” you replied, leaning in, curious and utterly engaged. His handsome features softened, and the earnestness written on his face made your heart skip.

“You treat me like a person, not just some idol. You’re refreshing like a breath of fresh air after a long flight.” His gaze held yours, desire and sincerity entwined. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Growing bold, you decided to take a leap of faith. “Maybe you should stop flying around so much and spend more time on the ground with me. I can introduce you to all the best coffee spots,” you suggested, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Seungcheol smirked, the corners of his mouth curling up with delight. “And I can promise to be your co-pilot on all your adventures. What do you say?”

You both spent countless afternoons rearranging schedules, mastering detours, and making memories amongst the thrumming heart of life. The world was a blur of new places and experiences, but what truly grounded you was the thrill of being together.

As weeks turned into months, the scenery shifted around you both, more vibrant and tantalizing than you’d ever envisioned. Cozy dinners after long flights, sneaking kisses behind the airport terminal… It was all a concoction of magic and spontaneity, and you thrived on it. In that whirlwind of romance, Seungcheol somehow managed to nestle himself firmly in your heart, becoming more than a fleeting passenger on your journeys.

One fateful evening, while stared into the pulsating city lights from your hotel balcony, you realized that your whirlwind romance fuelled by chance encounters and flirtatious exchanges had grounded itself into something deeper, more meaningful.

Leaning against the railing and looking out at the horizon, you felt him step up behind you, a presence that made the night warmer. “Are you going to share a drink with your co-pilot or just stare into the distance and dream?”

Smiling to yourself, your heart hummed the answer. “Only if it’s a romantic dinner under the stars.”

Underneath the vast expanse, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you both discovered that romance could blossom not just in the clouds but in every heartbeat you shared on Earth.

[dark-and-kawaii]

Just a thought came to mind! How do you feel about Haarlep, Rolan, and Zevlor covering you with hickies while holding you close & their tails are wrapped around your leg? I'm curious :3

Notes: My weakness, I can feel my legs giving up on me right this second just thinking about this!!! Tender moments like these/ possessive ones give me life!!!

₊˚⊹♡ Pairings: Rolan x Tav/Reader - Haarlep x Tav/Reader - Zevlor x Tav/Reader

₊˚⊹♡ Content: Comfort - Possessive - Longing - Lips On Skin

「 ✦ Zevlor ✦ 」

As you both sat next to the campfire, a soft glow dancing upon your bodies, Zevlor held you with a tenderness that spoke of years of loneliness. His touch devoted, worshipful, as if savoring a long lost treasure. Each kiss a prayer. The warmth of his hand, a soothing balm on a cold night.

With his fiery eyes, he watched you, drinking in every sigh, every moan, every quiver that trembled along your body, “it’s been too long…” he murmured, his voice a deep comforting rumble.

As his lips traced a path along your skin, leaving hickies that were both tender and possessive, his tail wrapped around your leg with a protective warmth. In his embrace, you felt cherished and safe, as if his years of solitude had found their answer in you. The world seemed a little brighter in the glow of his affection, and you knew that in Zevlor's arms, you had found a love that would last forever.

「 ✦ Haarlep ✦ 」

It was busy, always was in the marketplace of Baldurs Gate, where the air was thick with the scent of spices and the chatter of merchants… This is where Haarlep found his favorite kind of playground. Or rather, it would usually be the creature's favorite playground- finding an innocent soul to seduce, to break and feed off us until they were an empty husk. However, Haarlep only had eyes for you… And when he finally found you, a grin spread across his face as his arm reached from the dark alley and pulled you into seclusion, away from prying eyes.

His touch was warm, his skin like silk against your own, his voice almost hypnotic. It was almost hard for you to understand his words over the hammering of your heart.

Each kiss a promise of delightful mayhem as his lips trailed along your neck, leaving a constellation of hickies in their wake. His tail coiled around your leg, a playful yet possessive gesture, “You can’t hide from me little dove~.” a chill snaked down your spine, even as his body warmed yours. A finger gently ran up and down your arm, his nail scraping the soft skin ever so slightly.

In that moment, the world faded away, the market no longer loud, just a piercing silence leaving only the intoxicating presence of Haarlep and the thrilling unpredictability of his so called love.

「 ✦ Rolan ✦ 」

The library was quiet in the dead of night,the perfect place for Rolan to immerse himself in his studies. Yet tonight, the usually grumpy wizard found himself distracted by thoughts of you. With a resigned sigh, Rolan set his book aside and sought you out, his heart wishing to hear your soft voice, his body aching to feel you against him.

When he had found you, his usual gruff demeanor softened, and he pulled you into a quiet corner within the room- his body pinning you to the wall. Rolan’s kisses were surprisingly gentle, each hickey a mark of his reluctant yet undeniable affection. Each nip of his teeth, every swipe of his tongue, left you feeling as if you were about to burn up beneath him.

His tail, usually flicking in irritation now wrapped around your leg, holding you close as if fearing you’d disappear. His hands, so accustomed to holding a quill or staff, held your hips with an almost desperate grasp. Rolan felt his mind slowly become more clouded the more he felt you, his usual stoic nature giving way to an unexpected eagerness, “Don’t expect this often,” he grumbled… But you could tell from his actions that his words were far from the truth.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— clouds, cookies & 'roos | cookie monster saga

Here's some more fluff, cos' I feel like all I have written recently is heavy angst, so I thought I'd try give you all a bit of a break.

I want to turn this into a mini series, so hit me up with any ideas if you have any!

Pairings: steph catley x child reader Warnings: nothing, just adorable fluff.

You'd never been on an airplane, having been born in England and always being too little to travel any time previously, you'd never had the chance to experience it, so you definitely had mixed feelings about your first adventure on one of them.

You were heading to Australia for the first time, the world cup was going to be hosted over there in your mama's home country and it was an opportunity that she was ecstatic for and she wanted to share that experience with you.

"Hey sweetie, are you excited about your first big adventure on the airplane?" Your mama, Steph knelt down to meet your eye level.

You weren't so convinced that it would be as fun as your mum kept saying that it would be, "M' scared, Mama. What if the plane's too loud or bumpy?" you questioned.

Steph sympathetically smiled as she gently brushed your hair out of your face, her heart ached for your anxiety about the flight, "I understand, baby and it's perfectly normal to feel a little nervous about flying, escpecially when it's your first time" Steph's voice is gentle and reassuring, "But hey, guess what? I'm going to be right here with you, every single step of the way" she told you.

"Really?" Your voice was quiet as you asked.

Steph nodded in agreement, "Yep, and you know what else? Once we're up in the air, you'll be able to see the clouds and they look so cool, like fluffy pillows just floating in the sky" she told you, trying to make you feel a bit more excited about getting on the plane, "And the flight attendants will bring us snacks and drinks, so it'll just be like a picnic in the clouds" she explained.

A small tentive smile tugged at the corners of your lips, "Really, Mama? Can we have chocolate chip 'ookies?" you ask with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Absolutely, sweetheart. You can have all the chocolate chip cookies that you want, within reason cos' we don't you being sick now, do we?" Steph said as her eyes sparkled in amusement, watching you do a little dance in your seat, "You know what's even better? When we land in Australia, you'll be able to see all the animals as well, like the kangaroos and koalas. Doesn't that sound like fun?" she questioned.

Hearing the mention of animals, your eyes lit up in complete joy, "We're gonna see the Roos'?" you wondered, your apprehension was soon melting away to be replaced with a spark of excitment.

Steph nodded enthusiastically, "Yep, you'll be able to see them hop really, really high" she told you just the flight you were boarding was called out, "That's our flight, sweetie. Are you ready to get on the plane?" she questioned, holding out her hand for you to take.

"Excited, Mama!" You beamed a wide smile, all but now tugging at her hand in the direction of the depature gate, "Come on, Mama. Lets' go, I want to see the 'Roos!" you squealed, excitedly as Steph chuckled in amusment and was quick to follow, not having the heart to tell you that it would be a long flight before you were able to see your beloved 'Roos like you were excited for.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[tumbleweed-run]

Stand Still

(18+, Explicit) Kinktober day 5: sweat

You lay on your bedroll idly watching the clouds roll by above you. There were about three thousand things you should be doing right now but the message that you should get up was not actually traveling from your brain to your body. You were tired. Tired in a way that made it likely you’d end up curling up where you lay, armor and all, and falling asleep. 

There were still a few days until you reached Baldur’s Gate even at the breakneck speed you were all traveling at. Normally the first in the group, leading the way, but today after lunch you’d ended up falling behind. Your legs ached and between the pace your companions were keeping, the sun, and your armor you were sweating. 

Eventually, the distance between the new head of the pack, Karlach, and the last of you grew large enough that new safety concerns were brought up. The road had been forgiving so far in terms of ambushes but that didn’t mean you could let down your guard. So it had been decided with only minimal fuss from Lae’zel that you would make camp even though the sun was still high in the sky. 

A shadow passed over your face and you started, your eyes which you hadn’t realized you’d shut flew open. You sighed in relief to see Gale standing above you, body blocking the sun from your face. 

“Need assistance?” He asked one hand wildly gesturing towards you. 

Your eyebrows scrunched together until you realized he was referring to your armor. “I need a week's rest and a bath,” you groaned as you sat up.

“Unfortunately I cannot help you with the former, the latter however,” Gale began as he offered a hand to help you up,” there’s a stream not far off. In fact, Shadowheart is just back from washing up.

You took his hand and allowed yourself to be pulled to standing. Glancing over his shoulder you saw that Shadowheart had indeed bathed, long dark hair hanging damply around her. 

You sighed heavily, “not the warm soak I was hoping for but it will suffice.”

There was a quick stop at Gale’s tent to gather soaps and fresh clothing. There you also pulled off your armor leaving you standing in just your breeches and undershirt. Despite the warmth of the day you shiver slightly as a light breeze caressed all the places where your shirt was stuck to your body with sweat.

The stream was perhaps closer in size to a small, slow-moving river. The water was clean and clear with plenty of brush and trees obscuring banks from the camp beyond. There were large rocks jutting from the water, smooth and worn from times when the water had breached its boundaries. 

Eagerly you pulled off your boots and seated yourself on a rock, feet dangling into the cool water below. You hadn’t bothered to roll up the bottoms of your pants and the water was slowly soaking up them to your knee. It didn’t matter, everything was going to need to be washed anyway. 

The sun was briefly blocked again as Gale joined you on your rock. He sat behind you, legs bracketing yours. Though he’d taken the time to shove the ends up to the bend of his knees. You idly watched his leg hair dance in the current as he shifted behind you to find a comfortable spot. 

Without thinking, you leaned back against him seeking to take advantage of these few extra moments of rest. You winced and scrambled to sit back up when the dampness of your shirt met with his relatively dry one. 

“Sorry, I should probably actually bathe before trying to cuddle,” you apologized. 

One of Gale’s arms snuck around you, pulling you flush against him. “I will have you any way you’ll let me,” he said pressing a kiss behind your ear. 

A giggle forced it’s way from your mouth. 

He sighed, theatrically behind you, heaving shoulder jostling you. “I did not mean it that way,” he grumbled.

“I know,” you assured, raising a hand and squeezing his arm that was still drawing you back against him. 

“Although,” Gale’s voice was teasing though he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

You laughed again, “aways so kind, even when I’m gross.”

“You are far from gross,” Gale argued and then as if to make a point you felt his tongue trace a quick path from just below your ear to the collar of your shirt. 

You ineffectively attempted to squirm away, but he held you tight.

“How many times must I remind you that I am quite fond of your musk,” he mumbled, mouth still pressed against the skin of your neck. 

“I wonder if that stretch of celibacy got to you,” your turn to tease now. 

Gale chuckled, the force of it vibrating against you. “You, my love, are what’s gotten to me,” he insisted pressing a kiss to your skin. 

His arm finally dropped from where it held you to your thigh, kneading into the muscle gently. 

“Gale, in daylight?” You gasped in mock affront. 

Another chuckle and this time you found yourself arching to neck to allow his lips more space to roam. 

“Perhaps I already made it clear to the others to remain in camp.” He began trailing kisses over every piece of exposed skin. 

You smiled at that revelation. Maybe you should have been offended at his presumption but you weren’t. Gale frequently went out of his way to ensure your privacy even when it didn’t benefit him. 

His hand had traveled up your thigh, fingers gently playing with the laces. You rested your hand on his before plucking the tie open. Taking that as his permission Gale quickly loosened them before diving his hand inside.

He didn’t bother trying to get beneath your smalls, instead opting to rub against you over them. Your legs spread almost instantly, one leg hooking over the top of his. 

“Fuck,” you moaned arching your hips up against his hand. You an arm snaked around the back of his head, holding him into your neck as you rocked. Gale didn’t protest. Instead, he alternated between pressing gently sucking kisses and lapping small stripes with the tip of his tongue. 

With each rock of your hips you felt him hardening against you which only spurred you on. He was absolutely insane the sole rational part of your brain suggested, finding you attractive in this state. It didn’t matter though, his body wasn’t lying and you couldn’t help but love him for all his oddities.

Gale withdrew his hand and you moaned at its loss. 

“Up,” he insisted patting the side of your hip. 

Reluctantly you let him go and stood, twisting so you could brace your hand on his shoulder as you did. When you were standing he guided you, with an impatience you couldn’t help smile at, to turn so you were facing him. 

He was quick to help you shimmy from your breeches, glaring at you only a little as you both struggled with the damp legs. They were briskly discarded in the direction of the bank though you didn’t know if they’d actually made it. Your smalls were next to be shimmied down and then tossed. Until you were left standing naked from the waist down before him. 

He grabbed you by the hips and pulled until you were straddling him so close you could feel his puffs of breath on your cunt. 

“Shit,” you breathed, hand instinctively clutching at his hair. 

He balanced you with both hands on your ass, forearms bracing your thighs as he drew you in to close the gap. Gale’s mouth was on you with no further warning, tongue darting out to press between your folds. He was lapping everywhere not just your clit where you desperately wanted him. You wanted to drag him there but the way his fingers flexed against your ass told you he wasn’t going to allow you to direct this. 

That final ration part of your brain, the one slowly suffocating as the words Gale and please became the only things you could thing, realized you were standing precariously on a rock. One wrong move and you’d go flying into the water below. At least it was deep enough you weren’t likely to get seriously hurt if you did. 

Gale’s teeth ghosted across your clit causing all other coherent thoughts to flee from your brain. You were reduced to moans and whimpers as you ineffectively rocked your hips against his face begging him to do it right. You knew he could have had you coming by now which meant he was torturing you for fun. 

“Please,” you whimpered. 

Then he drew back. You seriously considered violence until your eyes met his. He held your gaze for a moment before slowly leaning back in, continuing to watch you. When his tongue pressed between your folds this time, he was serious. He alternated between sucking at your clit and pressing maddening circles around it with his tongue until you were all but trying to climb onto his face. 

When your orgasm rolled through you, hands gripping into Gale’s hair to keep his face in your cunt, you shouted loud enough it was likely those back at camp heard. Your thighs shook until you collapsed. Gale skillfully guided you down so you were straddling his lap. 

“I swear if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll die,” you threatened through your panting, pussy clenching around nothing still. You needed him inside you.

“Insatiable,” Gale laughed as he quickly undid his own trousers. 

There was a few moments of awkward shifting as you refused to leave his lap but needed his pants pushed down. When finally his cock sprung free you grasped it greedily, shuffling forward on your knees. Gale realized what you were doing too late, hand reaching your hips to stop you as you already slid down on him completely.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, you’re too impatient,” he chastised hands pinning your hips to his, forcing you to give yourself time to adjust. 

You rolled your eyes at him, you’d been so wet there’d been hardly any resistance when you lowered yourself. Now you wanted to rock, you wanted so badly to fuck yourself on him that you were growing frustrated with him. 

Maybe it was the low growl that rolled from your throat that got him to release your hips, or maybe he too was finally growing impatient. But he released you and almost immediately you raised up on your knees just to sink back down his full length again. 

As you selfishly sought to continuously fill yourself with him, not interested in finding a rhythm yet, Gale set to work divesting you of the rest of your clothes. 

“Gods,” he groaned pressing a kiss to one of your nipples, “I cannot wait to take you home and make you ride my face for hours.”

The image that took up residence in your brain had your hips stuttering, suddenly now interested in finding a rhythm that would please both of you. His hands went to your hips in an effort to aid you this time and you let him guide you. 

He buried his face between your breasts, tongue tracing strange patterns. Curious you looked down and realized you’d begun sweating again and he was chasing the little beads that had dripped down your chest. You groaned hips rolling. 

“You’re insane,” you told him breathily. 

For once Gale had no response. He did allow his mouth to wander until his lips found your nipple again. He pulled it into his mouth and you moaned, head falling back. Your hand came to rest at the back of his neck, anchoring both of you. 

In that moment you could almost forget the tadpoles, the elderbrain, and the dead three. You could just exist in this space with Gale, his fingertips digging ever so slightly into your hips with each thrust, the sun beating down on your closed eyes. You wanted to remain here, like this, forever. 

The coiling in your belly quickly reminded you that moments never lasted. 

“Fuck, Gale, please,” you whined not sure what you were asking for.

He understood nonetheless. He took over then, fucking up into you. Hips snapping into yours in earnest. Each time it seem his cock buried deeper into you. You cried out pressing a hand between the two of you, fingers immediately going to rub against your clit. 

“Shit,” you cried, second orgasm crashing into you almost instantly. You lost balance toppling forward onto Gale. He held you tight, hips bucking up into you wildly now. With a groan he came, pulsing inside of you. 

After a moment he laid back in a move that was more of a collapse, bringing you with him. He tilted his hips in an effort to stay inside of you as you laid against his chest. Both of you trying to catch your breath. 

[cinnamoneve]

𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐚.

oneirataxia \ one-er-tax-ea \ (n.) - the inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality

❆��𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x gn!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: satoru's perception of love changes as he learns what it really means through you ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 1.8k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: another self indulgent character study ahaha....we are so back... ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none :3

i want to be loved. 

all he knew about love was what’s been shown to him in media. songs about pining, books about lust, and movies about soulmates who weren’t meant to be. maybe that’s why rom-coms had secretly always been satoru’s guilty pleasure.

he wasn’t really sure what ‘love’ looked like, in any sense of the word. familial, platonic, romantic–any iteration. he grew up pretty well protected and sheltered, his parents leaving his handling to a bodyguard or dedicated nanny. where maternal and paternal love should live, there’s a soft hole in his heart filled instead with expensive toys, a home cooked meal that wasn’t made by a parent, and extravagant trips to keep his location a mystery.

satoru didn’t mind it. at least he didn’t think so–it’s all he’d ever known. being so sought-after and sheltered as a kid made it difficult to make and keep friends. primed for the world of sorcerers since his birth shook the balance, satoru never had much of a chance to be a kid at all, really. 

it manifests where you least expect it. his apartment is cold and independent; no notions of family anywhere in the sparsely decorated penthouse. all of the money in the world couldn’t buy the love that was stunted in his life. it’s hard to bridge that gap when you don’t see the gap at all. satoru sees no issue in it. he’s slowly started to fill the apartment with nods of his personality. a picture of the two of you, a ‘thank you’ card given to him by a student, a book megumi recommended to him collecting dust on his coffee table. he doesn’t really have time for reading, anyways.

before you met, satoru imagined love to be something different. love was crying in the rain, dancing with your lover like you didn’t care who was watching. it was running through an airport before they took off, catching them at the gate and convincing them to stay. it was red roses garnished with a bow. it was playing your favorite song on a speaker outside of your window, getting your attention by throwing pebbles at the glass. 

it was some of those things, sure. not in the way the two of you loved.

you taught satoru what love was in a different way. he didn’t think love could be so…normal? not grandiose. moments of love are between the big ‘movie-moments,’ he’s realized. he can’t remember exactly when he’d fallen in love with you, but there’s a few moments that stick out to him.

he’d first come to recognize what gentle love was when he came home from a long mission. he’d been gone for about 3 weeks, with very little contact. only small updates that he was alive to keep you at bay. maybe it was the lack of familial love that keeps him at an arm’s length. he stinks at communication–it’s probably his most fatal flaw. a bit of an isolationist at heart, satoru needs to constantly remind himself to keep in touch with his own partner. he’s learning to be better at it, and you’re learning to be more patient. a relationship is a compromise, after all.

he finally walked in the door, unannounced and unplanned. it was about 2 a.m. when he slithered in, taking his time to be extra quiet in the late hours. the house was silent, dark, and your shoes were by the door. must be asleep.

satoru walked to the bedroom, exhaustion and frustration clouding his headspace. what he really needed was a shower and a long rest, but he’d try for the former in the morning.

first, the smell of his cologne hit his nose. it wasn’t offensive, but it was a little overbearing–where was this coming from? he’d certainly not worn it in this room in nearly three weeks. he turned a soft light on to get undressed, and you shuffled in your sleep. and then he saw you.

satoru almost took you for a stranger. you were using his pillow, sitting on his side of the bed, wearing his sweatshirt. you looked like an angel there, sleeping so soundly that he barely wanted to move the bed and get in it. so he didn’t, just for a bit. the hole in his heart was slowly filling back up, and it hurt his chest a bit in a way that made it feel like it’d burst. nonetheless, he grabbed your pillow that you’d tossed aside and laid down next to you. 

and his nostrils burned a bit.

you’d sprayed his cologne all over the bed. the scent was a little overwhelming, but everything in him was too enamored to even think straight. he scooted the pillow a bit closer to you, snaking his arms around you to pull you closer to him. this was sweeter than anything he’s seen before; ‘this is love,’ he thought to himself. 

i want to be loved.

satoru didn’t realize that he’d always wanted this. he just didn’t know what he was missing out on. and here you are, proving it again and again. is this the love he dreamed of? that he saw in everything he watched? he wiped his eyes.

something about this interaction changed him deep down. and while you weren’t awake to see this one, satoru had a similar reaction on two other occasions.

one was his birthday. 

there’s something beautifully tragic about crying on your birthday; are you crying that time is passing? crying that you’ll never be that age again? if there’s one thing that binds humanity, crying on your birthday has to be close to the top.

you were eyeing satoru when you asked him about his birthday plans. he brushed them off, saying that celebrating his birthday was never a priority.

“you’ve never had a birthday party as a kid?” you ask.

“mm, nope,” he responded flatly, “i didn’t really celebrate my birthday when i was younger. it was like any other day to me, y’know?”

you huffed, pouted, and said okay. he’d figured that was the end of it, until the day came along.

satoru walked in from work, again, to a dark apartment. mildly annoyed, he flicked on the lights to see you standing in the decorated house, wearing a dorky little party hat.

“surprise!” you cheered, blowing into a cheap paper horn.

satoru smiled, amused, “what’s all this?”

“happy birthday, honey,” you finally walked through the streamers and balloons on the floor to greet him with a kiss. “sit at the table,”

he took his coat and shoes off, slowly walking to the dinner table as he admired the work you put in. it was decorated very childishly–a homemade banner, bright, primary colors as the main points sticking out. streamers, balloons with cartoon characters on them. there was a lone party hat on the seat at the head of the table. 

you motioned to it, giggling.

satoru smirked. “do i have to?”

“it’s your birthday. you absolutely must.”

this was definitely a child’s hat–the rubber band snapped as soon as he got it around his chin. suppressing a giggle, he fiddled with it as he got it to stay in his hair. as soon as he did, the lights dimmed.

and there you were, walking to him with a cake in your hands, candles being covered by your hand to stop any breeze. you sang as you set the cake in front of him, putting your hands on his shoulders and gently kissing his cheek when you were done.

the frosting was uneven, the candles used before. “happy birthday” was written poorly across the top–it was all of his favorite flavors made by the one who knew and loved him best.

satoru had been to birthdays before, but it seems like he’s never attended his own.

“you have to make a wish before you��hm?”

before you could finish, you look at satoru. he’s looking down at the cake, a tear running down his cheek. he looks up at you, hand finding the side of your face to pull you into a kiss. he didn’t say anything about it, just kissed you and blew out his candles.

you let it go, smiling to yourself as you cut him a piece of the homemade cake. satoru kept the party hat, secretly. at least, he thinks it’s a secret. you ignore it whenever it rolls off the top shelf of the closet, carefully putting it back with anything else he’s looking to hide. 

satoru doesn’t know what’s tying him back to that party hat. it’s made of a flimsy cardboard, with the rubber band chin strap broken from the moment he tried to put it on. he still can’t bring himself to throw it out, though. so at the back of the closet it will stay.

the first moment, you weren’t awake for, the second, maybe you could excuse. the third and most incriminating was, again, at the beginning of the relationship. it was the first night you stayed at his apartment; before you moved in, before you called your relationship anything concrete or official. the two of you fumbled it along, figuring it out along the way. satoru took the move of inviting you to stay and spend the night.

so you did. it didn’t take long for you two to make out on his couch, satoru eventually carrying you to the bedroom as you both fell out of your clothes. infatuation, maybe; something was keeping you both clawing at the other so desperately. it was your first time together.

you weren’t really sure how many partners satoru had before you, and frankly, you didn’t care. he treated you well, he respected your boundaries, and he checked in before he made any move further. honestly, he was a gentleman.

it took you by surprise when halfway through, he hovered over you and stopped his moans. you weren’t sure how long you two had been going, but satoru had both hands at the side of your face as you felt something hit your cheek. sweat, maybe?

no, tears. he was crying.

you reached your hand up, thumbing away the single tear from his pretty cheek.

“why are you crying?” 

“i-” he mumbled, “i don’t know,”

it’s okay, you thought. overwhelming hormones? sudden rush of dopamine? was he embarrassed? who knows. maybe you’ll ask another time.

you reached your hands around his neck to pull him down to your face, reaching up slightly to give him a soft kiss. a delicate one. he deserved to feel delicate, to feel loved.

and he did. that’s why he was crying. that’s why he cried during your first time together, cried on his birthday, and cried on a random thursday morning when he saw you in bed.

it’s unconscious. by the time he realizes what’s happening, there’s already a tear rolling down his cheek. but that’s all it takes for him to feel gratitude, warmth, and the realization that the love he’s always craved is closer than he could’ve imagined. 

all content © cinnamoneve 2024. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

[hanniebaeee]

Lost

Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: description of a dead body, some fingering, light smut

Genre: psychological horror, smut

Summary: You and Felix take a shortcut home after a Halloween party, through an old abandoned park. Felix goes missing, and your world is turned upside down.

The night was cool, and the sky was shrouded in dark clouds, casting an eerie glow over the city. You tugged your jacket tighter around yourself as you and Felix walked out of Jisung’s place after the party. His smile was mischievous, and his eyes held a devilish glint.

“We should call an Uber,” you said for what felt like the fifth time, impatiently.

It had been a long night, and you two had had a couple of drinks too. And there was a chill in the wind that had you shivering. You were eager to get home and get under the covers with Felix. But Felix chuckled, his voice low and teasing.

“Why call an Uber when we can walk? It’s such a nice night.”

You sighed and gave him a little glare. Felix was playful and silly most of the time, but there was an intensity to him that unfortunately had you dancing to his tune a lot more than you would like to admit.

So you walked with him, his cute grin making you smile tiredly too. The walk wasn’t that bad even, until the entrance of the old abandoned park came into view. The twisted trees and dark path loomed ahead like the gates to some forgotten realm. You froze as Felix casually took a turn to the gates.

The park has been the topic of interest in your little town for ages. The park that everyone in town whispered about, rumored to be the site of a mass burial decades ago. The park where strange things had been seen, and people went missing all the time.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “I’m not going through the park, Felix.”

But your boyfriend gave you that infuriating smile, pulling you close. His hands were warm on your waist, and his breath, hot against your ear as he whispered, “Come on, baby, it’s just a shortcut. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You absolutely hated how your body responded to him.

“Baby, please,” you pleaded weakly, but you knew it was of no use.

Felix tugged you forward, leading you into the park. The moonlight had the cute mermaid glitter on his cheekbone shimmering. Even in your scared state, you couldn't take how handsome he looked. You followed him silently, your heart pounding so fast. Your every instinct screamed at you to turn back. The air grew colder as you ventured deeper into the park and the leafless trees seemed to close in on you like skeletal fingers. The only sound was the crunch of leaves under your feet, and the occasional howling of the wind.

You were shivering and felt breathless all of a sudden. You sped up, not wanting to prolong this tortuous joruney. Felix was being uncharacteristically quiet behind you, so you turned around, but… he was gone.

Felix was gone.

"Felix?" you called out, your voice trembling as panic gripped at you.

Silence. The rustling of the leaves in the wind sounded amplified, as you tried to hold back the urge to vomit. Your heart raced as you spun around, searching the shadows for any sign of him.

“Lixie!” you yelled, louder this time, but there was still no answer. Dread had settled in your stomach like a heavy rock, and you felt the fear creeping up your spine. You cursed under your breath, your fists clenching in frustration. This was exactly the kind of prank he would pull. But something about this felt awfully wrong.

You took a step forward, then froze as you heard something behind you. Footsteps. You whipped around, but there was no one there. Your breath caught in your throat, and the next thing you knew, you were running. You ran through the park like your life depended on it, and your foot caught on something, sending you sprawling to the ground.

Pain shot through you as you landed harshly, your hands scraping against the gravel. You moaned softly in pain, the tears now flowing down your cheeks. This was not how your night was supposed to go. You wipe your tears and turn to look at what had tripped you.

Felix.

Lying on the ground, his skin pale, almost blue, was your boyfriend. He wasn't moving at all, and the glitter on his face shimmered brightly against his dull skin. And there was a dark bruise forming on his forehead. You crawled over to him, your broken sobs echoing with the wind. His body was cold to the touch, and you felt your heart stop in your chest.

“Felix!” you screamed, shaking him, your voice breaking with fear. “No no no no no, baby please, NO!”

“Wake up, please, wake up!” Tears blurred your vision as you cupped his cheeks, frantically trying to wake him, but he didn’t move. His skin was so cold, so lifeless. You pulled out your phone, your hands shaking violently as you tried to call for help, but there was no signal. You decided to go get help, and just as you took a few steps forward, you heard it again.

Footsteps behind you.

Slowly, you turned around, dread crawling up your spine. And there, standing just a few feet away, was Felix.

He looked perfectly fine. No bruise. No blue skin. He was standing, looking at you with confusion and concern.

“Why did you run off like that?!” he asked, his voice raised.

You stared at him, feeling completely disoriented.

“Run?” you whispered. “When did I run?”

He stepped closer, pulling you into his arms, his warmth seeping into your cold, trembling body.

“You just took off,” he murmured, rubbing your back soothingly. “Are you ok?”

You were shivering uncontrollably now, your mind reeling as you looked down at the spot where, just moments ago, you had been cradling his lifeless body. But now… there was nothing there.

You pulled back from Felix, staring up at him in disbelief.

“I… I didn’t run,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “You… you were on the ground. You weren’t moving. You were…”

Felix’s brows furrowed as he cupped your face, his thumb gently wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Hey, I’m right here. I’m fine.”

Even as Felix held you close, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. You looked around again, the shadows of the park suddenly much darker, much more menacing.

"Let's get out of here," Felix said softly, guiding you out of the park.

The walk back to Felix's apartment was a blur. Your body felt heavy, and you felt so sick.

“Hey,” Felix said, his hand tilting your chin, and his soft brown eyes searched yours with concern. “What happened back there?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You shook your head, feeling the sting of tears again. Felix pulled you into a hug, his strong arms enveloping you.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

His voice was soothing, but you could hear the confusion in it. You tried to block out the whole thing from your mind.

“I’m going to help you out of this, okay?” he said softly, his fingers already working on the zippers of your cat costume. His hands were gentle as he undressed you, stripping you down to your underwear.

Felix’s eyes never left yours as he reached for one of his oversized T-shirts, slipping it over your head. The fabric was soft, smelling faintly of him. You couldn’t help but close your eyes for a moment, letting that scent wrap around you like a blanket.

You climbed under the duvet, as Felix tugged off his own costume. He was quick as he stripped down to his boxers. You watched him, dazed and somewhat lost. He caught you staring and flashed you a small, knowing smile.

Felix crawled into bed beside you, pulling the covers over the both of you as he wrapped his arms around you. The heat of his body seeped into yours, and for the first time that night, you felt safe.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, his lips finding your forehead in a soft kiss.

Your face was just inches from his, and his breath was warm against your skin. You leaned in and kissed him, your lips pressing against his, desperately. Felix responded instantly, his hands tangling in your hair as he kissed you back, deep and intense. His lips were soft but urgent.

He pulled you closer, until there was no space left between your bodies. As the kiss deepened, you could feel his desire, so raw and hot.

Your hands gripped his shoulders as you pressed your body against his, and kissed him harder. Felix groaned softly against your lips, his hands sliding down to your waist, as he ground his hips into yours.

His skin was blazing hot under your fingers and your mind suddenly drifted off to how cold he had felt, just sometime back. You feel his lips moving down to your neck and your collarbone, but you're stuck.

Felix noticed, like he always did.

“Talk to me, baby,” he whispered, his voice soft but firm.

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted. “Something feels off. I can’t shake it.”

“You’re safe,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “I’ve got you.”

His fingers traced slow, comforting patterns along your back, but even in his calm, you could sense the storm brewing beneath the surface. He wanted to understand what was wrong, to fix it, but you were not exactly helpful.

His thumb brushed lightly over your bottom lip, sending a shiver through your entire body.

“I need you to stop thinking for a second,” he said, his voice low and thick with desire. “Just… be here with me.”

And then he was kissing you again, his hand sliding into your hair, his fingers tightening ever so slightly as he deepened the kiss. His lips were soft but demanding, his hands wandering down your back, to your thighs, and opening your legs to settle between them.

Your mind felt hazy, lost in him - the warmth of his skin, the taste of his lips, and just how hard he was. You needed more.

Your hands slid down his chest, feeling the firm muscles, and he responded with a soft, breathless curse, his lips never leaving yours.

Felix’s hands slipped under the oversized T-shirt he’d dressed you in, his fingers caressing your breasts over your bra. Slowly pulling the cup down, his fingers pinched your nipple. The sensation was almost too much. You whined softly, and he lifted the shirt just enough to capture the hardened bud between his lips.

You arched into him, your hands tangling in his hair, and he growled softly, pressing himself closer. He slipped his hand inside your panties, finding your clit and rubbing it ever so gently. You were beginning to lose yourself in the pleasure. It felt that good.

His mouth on your breasts and his fingers slipping inside you - you were literally burning. And just like that, came in something else. A darkness clouding your vision.

Felix seemed to sense it.

“You’re still not with me,” he said. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You swallowed hard, staring into his eyes. Something was wrong. It started as a flicker of discomfort in your chest, but soon it felt like something was tightening around your lungs, making it harder to breathe.

You tried to focus on Felix. The way his fingers curled inside you, the pleasure that made you moan, and grip at the sheets tighter. Your vision blurred slightly, and your head started to swim.

Felix’s touch started to feel distant, your senses dulling as a strange sensation took over.

“Lixie…” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out weak, barely audible.

He didn’t hear you. His lips moved over your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. Your eyes glazed over, and it felt like you weren’t really there anymore. Like you were floating outside your body, watching from somewhere far away.

Felix pulled back slightly, and he froze when he saw your expression.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice rough, his fingers out of you in an instant, and hands moving to cup your face.

You gasped for air, and the room felt like it was tilting ever so slightly. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, and you reach out to take his hand, squeezing it in fear.

Felix’s shifted, sitting up and shaking you a little.

“Babe, you’re scaring me,” he said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Shit. Shit!”

Felix’s face blurred in and out of focus, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he was really there.

“I… I can’t breathe.”

Felix's eyes widened in panic, and he pulling you into his lap as he cupped your face with both hands.

“Hey, hey, breathe with me, okay?” His voice was steady, but you could hear the fear in it. “Can you try?”

Your hands gripped his arms tightly, trying to ground yourself, but your fingers felt numb. You looked up at him, your vision blurry, your heart racing, and then, something shifted.

For a second, Felix’s face didn’t look like Felix at all. It was like you couldn’t trust what was real, like the Felix in your arms wasn’t the same Felix who had held you just moments ago.

The air around you felt heavy, thick with something unseen, something that made your skin crawl. You close your eyes tightly, hoping and praying that it would just stop. And then, just as quickly as it had started, everything went silent.

The feeling of Felix’s hands on your skin, the warmth of his body pressed against yours - it all vanished in an instant. You were all alone. Felix was gone.

Again.

You sat up quickly, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked around the room. The bed was empty, the apartment eerily quiet.

“Felix?” you breathed out, but there was no answer.

Panic surged through you, and you scrambled out of bed, your hands shaking as you searched for him. But the room was empty and so still. You turned back to the bed, and for a moment, your breath caught in your throat.

There, lying on the bed where you had just been, was Felix - his body still, his skin pale, the dark bruise even more prominent now. You screamed, stumbling back, your hands flying to your mouth.

This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening again. But as you stood there, frozen in fear, you heard something behind you.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.

You turned, your heart racing, and there he was - your boyfriend, standing in the doorway, looking at you with wide, confused eyes.

“What's wrong?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

But all you could do was stare, your breath caught in your throat. You knew even before you glance at the bed that you'll find nothing there. You look back at Felix, and then, everything goes black as you fall to the ground with a sickening thud.

And the only thing that floated through your mind as you lost consciousness was Felix. Have you lost him? Or were you losing yourself?

a/n: Attempting horror for the first time! It's actually my favorite genre. I'm so nervous to put this out here 😅 Feedback is much appreciated!

[lola-writes]

One-Eye & the Dreamer

(Aemond's POV)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x O.C Aylana Velaryon

Word Count: 2,2k

Themes & Warnings: slow burn, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers, violence, blood, targcest, sexual themes, tension, drama, angst, fix-it of sorts, eventual smut, sexual inexperience, forbidden love, high valyrian, dance of dragons, POV first person

Summary: Aylana Velaryon foresees Aemond Targaryen's fate and assigns herself to alter it.

Written from Aemond's POV.

More chapters

Gravity had nothing on us, my dear. 

You can’t untie red strings of fate. 

This is how it feels to fall in love with the atmosphere. 

The world surrendered to a symphony of wind.  Turbulence thundered in my ears and whipped my hair untamed as I ascended the skies. Rising higher and higher, the clouds enveloped me in a blinding haze, and the elements of the earth below decreased into a mosaic. I conquered the celestial at such speed that I felt like Aegon reborn. 

Vhagar was an extension of myself, her undulating muscles beneath my straddling body felt as if connected to my own, forcing our masses through the heavens with an effortlessness. I commanded her higher still, and she heeded my command. We defied gravity in a dance of grace and power.

As we approached the stratosphere where air ran thin, I straightened in my saddle, and my mighty Vhagar leveled out, conforming to every delicate change in my movements. The world below became an inverted dreamscape as we sailed the vague interstice that marked the transition between sky and oblivion - the clouds beneath were the unconquered sky, and the indigo above was the ocean, and I was flying upside down. 

Together, Vhagar and I, were limitless.

The memory of when I first claimed her was so potent it eclipsed everything else, real or imagined. It was like walking penniless and finding a mountain of gold at your feet. What was one to do with such power? A power so raw and exhilarating, it consumed. Suddenly, I had no fear. Suddenly, I was not alone…

I leaned into Vhagar’s warmth and she folded her wings against me. We plummeted back down towards the earth, a thrilling drop that sent a jolt of pure ecstasy through my veins. My stomach lurched, and beneath me, Vhagar’s thorax vibrated – a deep, primal roar that resonated through my very bones. In that moment, I mirrored her, a guttural exclaim of pure, unadultered joy escaping my lips.

Never had freedom tasted so sweet.

The force of our descent sliced through the nebulous clouds like a knife through cotton, and as we emerged, the Narrow Sea gaped wide, glittering beneath the noontide sun like a crystal embellished blue silk. I leveled out again and watched Vhagar’s twin loom out of the water. 

In the distance, the seven huge drum-towers, proud sentinels of pale red stone, rose out of the sea on their stony summits, and the tolling bells welcomed me back home. An unfamiliar fleet of ships coasted down Black Water Rush like wooden beads along a blue mesh - an unremarkable observation, as nobles from every corner of the realm had been descending upon King’s Landing for the wedding. They had all come through the gates by horse and carriage, none by sea. 

Traders perhaps? Coming just in time to fortify our stores for the upcoming plunder. 

So many fucking mouths to feed. I had seen them endlessly pour through the castle gates in a river of gold, silver, and polished steel – their banners displaying the sigil of house Lannister, Baratheon, Tully, and I could’ve sworn I saw a direwolf banner among them. Would the Starks truly find a Targaryen wedding of such importance that they would bother dragging themselves out of their frozen pits? It was to be a grand affair, to be sure. A celebration with tourneys, hunts, feasts, and dancing, to last for at least a fortnight.

If I had it my way, I would escape and race the wind on Vhagar. But mother’s orders were a bittersweet curse. We were to be on our best behavior, a euphemism for me babysitting my nuisance of a brother, to ensure he does not imbibe every wine cask in the keep, and to hearten my sweet sister who always grew gauche in social gatherings. 

One could hardly fathom I was the youngest.

But the chief of my worries was Aegon. He already had an inclination of getting unreasonable drunk on a plain day. I shuddered to think of the lengths he might go to in tribute to his own nuptials.

Unease filled my gut.

But it wasn’t the vigil of my siblings that rendered me apprehensive.

As I drew close enough that I could make out the banners, I realized that these were no ordinary trading ships. In fact, these weren’t traders at all. I tugged at the reins and Vhagar gathered air beneath her leather and sprung up high, casting her mighty shadow atop the vessels. 

Memories consumed me like a bad aftertaste. The sigil-emblazoned sails draped across the masts below needed no introduction. The seahorse and the three-headed black dragon caught the wind. 

It could only mean one thing…

The thought got knocked right out of me as a bone-jarring impact to Vhagar’s thorax threw me off my saddle. Her earsplitting roar resounded across the blackwater, as I tumbled down her back. Instinctively, I snagged my wrist through a loop in her saddle ropes, dangling precariously until she steadied herself. I hauled myself back up, heart hammering in my chest, adrenaline pouring into my bloodstream. I scouted the skies for an attacker in a glassy bewilderment, growing acrimoniously aware of my disability. But the firmament was still and empty. 

What in the Seven Hells?

Another blow. It knocked me aslant, and I felt fury consuming me like poison. Gritting my teeth, I gripped the saddle horn and twisted the reins twice ‘round my forearm, and perceived every muscle of Vhagar’s back contracting beneath me, waiting to charge. 

Who would dare challenge me?

A flicker of movement caught my eye. A shape, shrouded beneath Vhagar’s wing membranes, was soaring alongside us. And when I turned to look, my eye met a stranger, masked and cloaked, stalking us on a dragon as black and swift as a raven. But the beast was miniscule in relation, just the age to breathe fire, and yet had nearly forced me to meet the gods. 

Humiliation morphed into a blinding rage that seethed through my veins and marred my vision with a red mist. “Ossēnagon, Vhagar!” Kill. I growled, and steered her toward the trespasser. But the figure crouched down in their saddle, and their dragon dove towards the city. 

Fucking craven.

We went after them. Their descent was swift and inaudible, while mine was slow and thunderous like a moving mountain. The pale orange rooftops of King’s Landing, bleached from the summer’s scorching sun, spread out like a vast rust beneath our darkening shadows. I pursued them to the Hill of Rhaenys, where we landed opposite each other outside the crypts of the dragonpit. 

Dismounting, I started towards them, each step a measured threat. The steel of my dagger sang its lethal warning as I drew it from my scabbard. But the stranger stood their ground, defiance flickering in their shadowed form. My anger, already a simmering cauldron, boiled over. I closed the distance between up, a growl ripping from my throat, raw and primal.

“You!” The word barely a breath before my blade bit their throat. A desperate struggle ensued, but my palm collared the nape of their neck, locking them to the steel. A Kingsguard’s alarming exclaims sounded in the distance, but the words faded underwater. 

“The Stranger requests an audience.” The contiguity drowned my voice into a whisper. I took pleasure in that I towered over them, and felt their hot, humid breath against me, hitching beneath the sharp edge.

“My prince!” Ser Harrold Westerling, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, came running towards us. His voice, booming like thunder, always sufficed in snapping the whole court to attention. But it wasn’t his timber which stirred me this time. “Let her go!” 

His words carried me out of my raging inferno.

Her?

I blinked through my apprehension and scavenged the stranger’s frame with my eye, as if I’d awoken from a dream and seen them for the first time. A tug, a rustle, and their hood fell back and settled around their shoulders. 

A wave of ice ran down my spine. 

It was like seeing a ghost. The protagonist of all my nightmares coming alive, ready to haunt me. 

Aylana Velaryon.

Her eyes, the color of sunlit amber flicked with gold, held mine with an unsettling intensity. She seemed to see right through me, demanding answers I could not provide. Then, a knowing smile played on her lips.

“Skoros iksos pirta, kepus?” What’s wrong, uncle? A sardonic edge laced her voice. “Gaomagon ao daor gīmigon issa?” Do you not remember me?

The words hit me like a physical blow. I swallowed, stunned by her High Valyrian.

For a moment, I believe I stood petrified, unable to tear my gaze from her, unable to utter a word.

A torrent of questions, accusations, apologies – years of unspoken turmoil – churned within me. But now, with her life literally in my hands, the words deserted me. My tongue, usually an agile weapon, felt like lead. This was the person who had haunted my every waking and sleeping thought for years, and all I could manage was a stunned silence. Perhaps my countenance spoke volumes where my voice failed.

She echoed the girl I remembered, but time had woven its changes. I had to take it all in. Her voice, saccharine and laced with a hint of mockery, was a stark contrast to the playful child I held in memory. Her once youthful features had sharpened, cheekbones higher, lips fuller. Then, my gaze, fell upon the one jarring element – a crimson scar that snaked across her left eyebrow, expressing a raw pink sheen beneath a shell of transparent skin. Years had passed, yet the wound looked fresh.

The accident.

My jaw tightened as venom seethed through my veins.

I could still see her crumpled, lifeless form in the dirt, her skull cracked open, every time I closed my eye.

And I was holding the bloody rock.

Shame coiled in my gut like a suffocating weight. I could not bear to look at her.

“Some things never change,” she said facetiously. “Don’t you agree, uncle?”

Shit.

I was still holding my knife to her throat. I recoiled with such force that the effort pushed her back as well. A bright seam of red welled up at the lip where my blade had kissed her and painted the length of her neck like dark fruit.��

I reviled myself. I had tried to kill her. Again. 

But she just smiled, a dimple flashing in her cheek. As if we were still kids and she had made a humorous jest.

I realized I had been holding my breath when a gasp escaped my lips and air rushed back into my lungs. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy.

“Aylana.” I spoke her name derisively without intending to, as I sheathed the knife at my waist where my gaze lingered a moment, dreading to meet hers. 

My stomach turned. I never used to call her that. It sounded so formal and distant on my tongue, just like ‘uncle’ on hers. But that’s what we were to each other now - our friendship no more than a distant memory. I no longer assumed myself worthy of her alias. I had lost that privilege. Just as I had lost my friend. 

The weight of the past pressed down on me, suffocating.

Agitation infiltrated my mind and my whole disposition must have come off as reticent and hostile. I watched her pull her gloves off finger by finger and release the clasp of her cloak. There was an attitude in her movements and a poise in her posture. Beneath she was dressed in sable flying leathers that clung tightly to her body. 

I averted my gaze. 

Frustration clawed at my chest, and whatever other feeling it was that made my mouth dry and my palms clammy. 

“You look well, nuncle,” she said. 

My eye met hers and I noted them briefly flicker across my eyepatch. Her scrutiny made the leather singe my skin with awareness. Growing diffident, I looked away. 

“Hmmph,” I said, my favorite expression of disdain. 

I knew what she was implying. That if I had only listened to her that night, instead of acting like an arrogant scoundrel, I wouldn’t be looking like a eunuch with one eye at present.

And she was right in mocking me. If her insults were the currency for my betrayal, I would gladly become a spendthrift.

My breathing shallowed as I gazed at the damage I’d caused. I had to get out of there. 

“I hope we did not frighten you earlier,” she said, interrupting my escape. “I only thought I might test the mettle of the largest dragon in the world. She truly is remarkable. A fair exchange, to be sure.” 

I turned to look at her, and I didn’t know what I must’ve looked like, because the playful smile that had been dancing between her lips our entire encounter, vanished. There it is, I thought. The realization. The Aemond you knew is gone. This is the monster you forged.

“Ser Harrold,” I said. “Escort the princess to the Red Keep. And make sure she does not test the mettle of anyone else in the city.”

“Certainly, my prince,” said Ser Harrold, the Lord Commander who was the very first person to see my face after the loss of my eye. This fact made him remarkably significant somehow.

I mounted Vhagar and took to the sky, watching Aylana and Nymax blur into mere specks on a canvas. 

This would be a celebration I was sure to remember…

More chapters

[trailedstar]

LIPSTICK SMEARS

﹙ BOOTHILL x MALE READER﹚ petnames (babe, darling), reader not explicitly feminine just dabbles in makeup, pure fluff, references to boothill's backstory but very vague. 611 wc

꒰ you always fancied yourself a bright red lip, deciding to use your boyfriend as a way to blot off that excess makeup!

bright red lipstick twirled from an ornate golden tube, intricate details forged into its material. the candlelight danced across its surface, casting shadows that flickered and swayed like flames themselves.

as your lips parted, the smooth, waxy cylinder hovered just above them, ready to release its scarlet payload. the tip of the lipstick nudged against your lips, guiding them as you pressed forward, feeling the cool wax against your skin.

with delicate strokes, you traced the contour of your lips, blending the color seamlessly into the natural creases and curves. the soft, supple texture of the lipstick melted onto your skin, leaving a sheen that seemed to catch the candlelight.

“ah— too much.” you mumbled slightly, glancing into the mirror. the lipstick, once appearing thinly applied, now looked heavy on your lips. a pout formed, that certainly wouldn’t do.

"i think ya look fine, darlin'.. i don’ mind kissin’ ya with too much lipstick." boothill shrugged as a grin played on his lips, those razor sharp teeth never managing to look intimidating to you.

“well, if you don’t mind…” you whispered, standing up from the plush seating before the vanity as you set the golden tube down on the wooden surface.

taking the opportunity, you climbed on top of boothill, legs straddling his metal waist. calculating your next move, boothill’s eyes locked onto yours, finding heaven is those gorgeous hues. heaven wasn’t plush clouds and golden gates as far as the eye could see. it took the form of the man sitting on him, gazing down at him through half-lidded eyes and lips painted bright red. your fingers tangled through his black locks as you whispered his name.

“h, hey now, lil’ gentleman…” stutters left boothill, an echo of an angel in your ears. the heaven you adored rested on your fingertips, cool metal remnants of him from the edges of his cover to the entirety of his soul.

blood buzzed in his ears, his mind awash with embarrassment as you peppered down kisses on the cold metal. red smeared across the alloy surface, lipstick staining it like a declaration of possession. your lips were like magnets, drawing him closer. his mechanical limbs shuddered under the weight of your touch, the heat from your skin feeling as if it were burning through the synthetic fibers.

“dang… yer somethin’” he muttered, still looking at the way you moved. the feel of your lips on him, so soft and warm, sent shivers through his metal frame — a reminder of what he once was. it was an odd sensation, to feel a shred of his former human self, to feel something so lifelike, he couldn't deny it. he could feel the blood pulsing through his synthetic veins, the heat of your breath on his cold, metal chest.

“you said you didn’t mind.” you hummed softly, thumb brushing against one of your kiss marks causing the waxy red to smear across the surface. grinning teasingly, you kissed another mark onto boothill.

“ya got me there, babe… i didn’t expect ya ta do… that.” metal fingers brushed the back of black hair, itching it embarrassingly.

“mm… you look good with all these.” mumbling beneath you breath, you pulled back to admire your artwork. his alloy body was littered with red lipstick marks, an elegant display of possession. your own promise to never allow your beloved to face the same pain he once did.

“maybe ya should make some more on me, darlin’” boothill’s metal fingertips brushed against your lips, the red smearing down onto your chin as he smirked.

“as my beautiful boy wishes..” you matched his smirk as you moved to continue raining more kisses.

trailedstar. do not plagarise, repost, or translate without my permission.

[romancefranaticstay]

☆.｡.:* Neighbor ☆.｡.:*

Neighbor!Jeongin x fem!reader

Category: fluff ❤

Warnings: ♥ None ♥ (but... maybe a little smut towards the end)

Note: A short story about some neighbor fluff, very romantic (in mine opinion), i hope you enjoy!

Xoxo

Rachel

You were wearing headphone's, jumping around with your music.

"I bring, I bring all the Drama-ma-ma-ma (hey, hey) I bring drama-ma-ma-ma (hey, hey) With my girls in the back"

You singed, making some little dance move's.

'나로 시작되는 drama (all that)'

You were heading towards your house when you saw a moving van. That's weird, you didn't move, did you? You snuck a little closer and saw a new family moving into the house next door.

You saw two people standing there, they were probably a couple. They looked quite old, maybe they had children. Oh! That would be so nice, to finally have friends in your neighborhood.

You went inside and grabbed a snack from the fridge. You didn't have much to do before school tomorrow, so you could finally get some rest and enjoy these beautiful spring days.

─── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ───── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ────── ❤ ── დ ── ❤

Eventually you started to get bored in your room. You went downstairs to your garden. Your garden was so beautiful, because all the sunlight always shone in your garden.

Beautiful, but a few clouds in the sky. The trees glistened in the sunlight, everything looked more beautiful than usual. Suddenly you heard a voice.

'안녕하세요, Hey.'

You looked around to see where the voice came from. You looked to your right and saw a boy leaning against the gate of your garden. He had black hair that fell slightly over his eyes.

"Hey."

"Do you live here?"

'No, I'm just sitting in their garden, sorry, I'm being sarcastic again. Yes, I live here.'

"So you're my new neighbor?"

'Ahh, so you are our new neighbors, welcome to the neighborhood by the way. It's very quiet here, so you're going to love it here.'

"I'm sure I'll like it here." he said under his breath.

"So, what are you doing?"

"I was actually listening to music."

'Can I listen in?'

"Of course, come."

He carefully opened the gate and approached you. When he came closer, you could observe his face better. He was actually very beautiful. He calmly took the headphones from your head and placed them near his ears.

"I know this song!"

'Really? What's it called then?'

'Let me think...

I'm a 퀸카 I'm a 퀸카 I'm a, I'm a, I'm a 퀸카 I'm a 퀸카 "

he started to sing. You laughed, he could actually sing very nicely.

"So you know it."

'Of course I know. Can I show you some songs?'

"Sure, go ahead."

He grabbed your phone and started typing something on Spotify. You recognized the lyrics immediately.

“Ahh, BTS run.

손 뻗어봤자 금세 깨버릴 꿈 (꿈, 꿈) 미칠 듯 달려도 또 제자리일 뿐 (뿐, 뿐)

그냥 날 태워줘, 그래, 더 밀쳐 내줘 이건 사랑에 미친 멍청이의 뜀박질 ..."

You both started laughing.

"Actually, I should be helping my parents, so... I'll see you later?"

'Yep, ofcourse.'

He waved and went out of sight. Finally someone to be friends with, or so you thought...

─── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ───── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ────── ❤ ── დ ── ❤

Every day you learned something new about him. He had a big brother and a little brother. He likes his personal space and he has some different tastes in music. His favorite colors are also Coral and Teal. He also has a lot of passion for music.

He told something about his friends, it doesn't mean that he has moved that he has to change schools. You've already heard of someone named Seungmin and Changbin. They sound very funny. He is the youngest of his group of friends.

You sat with him in his room, you lay on his bed.

"You know, I'd love to build a time machine and go back to the '90s."

'How so?' Jeongin asked.

"I just want to see how everything works there."

'Do you like the 90s concept?'

'Yes of course! The hair, the clothing style, the stuff, wow.'

'Yes, that's possible.'

'Which era do you find most interesting?'

'I don't really know, maybe just this time, because we live in the moment now. We live now and not in the past. We will never be able to live in the past, so why compare this time to the others?"

“Wow, very poetic Jeongin.”

'Am I wrong?'

"No, in a strange way it all makes a lot of sense."

"Let's change the subject."

"Okay sure, what do you want to talk about?"

'Maybe about love? Do you believe in soulmates?'

'Me? I don't know, sometimes I feel like there's one person for everyone. But sometimes I think that certain people just fit together because of certain interests. And you?'

'I don't know, I think so. I want to live with the idea that there is someone for me, who suits me exactly. Okay, maybe not exactly, but still.' 'Yes..'

"You know, this might sound really weird, but maybe I can try out my flirting techniques on you?"

"Sure, but don't think it'll work."

'Bet?'

"Okay bet."

He came next to you on the bed. He grabbed your hand with one hand and caressed your cheeks with the other.

"Do you think that'll work?"

"Shh, I wasn't ready yet."

He breathed deeply and started looking into your eyes.

“You always look like an angel Y/N.”

'Am I an angel? More like a devil.'

He rolled his eyes and turned back to you. He looked from your eyes to your lips and vice versa. He touched your lips with his thumb, your heart skipped a beat.

“These lips Y/N, these lips, the most beautiful thing.”

You couldn't say anything anymore, what could you say? Your hands slid to his hands. Even though he was so confident, his hands were a bit sweaty.

His face moved closer to yours and... he kissed your cheek softly.

'And? Good flirting techniques?' he says as you still hold his hands.

You cleared your throat.

'Yes, quite good, yes, I have heard better.'

'Are you sure?'

'Sure.' you avoided eye contact.

He turned your face so you were looking at him.

'A bad liar.'

Suddenly he pinned you down on the bed.

'And now?'

'Hmmm, it could be better.'

His eyes fell on your neck, he grinned. His mouth came closer to your neck, so close that you felt his warm breath on your so sensitive skin. His tongue made small circles on your neck, leaving small bites.

'And now?'

'It's better already.'

"I can always make it better."

His face came closer to yours, so close that you were about to kiss, but he only kissed your forehead.

Your puppy dog ​​eyes looked up at him. You wanted more... but not in a bad way. He wanted to leave again, but you didn't just let him go. You grabbed his face and pressed your lips together.

His eyes went wide, but he didn't back down. When your lips parted again, he just stared at you in surprise.

"How about that?" you said with a very big grin on your face.

You got up and went to his door.

“This was fun, I'll see you tomorrow. Same hour.”

You wanted to open the door but he stopped you.

"Do you think you'll leave now?"

He kissed you again and pushed you against the door a little. You felt his hands over your body, it couldn't be more romantic.

You looked down and saw that the bulge in his pants was big. He saw what you were looking at.

"Are you going to help me with this?"

'With pleasure.'

You said, leaving small kisses on his face.

─── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ───── ❤ ── დ ── ❤ ────── ❤ ── დ ── ❤

[poorwritingandstalecoffee]

The Idea of You and Her

Summary: Larissa and you are roommates at Nevermore Academy. After one drunken night, she realizes her feelings for you and makes plans to do something about it. However, things don’t go exactly as planned the next morning. Or, do they?

WC: 2K

Warnings: slight mentions of sex

Note: I re-watched Maleficent and had an idea.

Larissa stared at the clock on her watch. Her eyes tracked the second hand as it passed 12 for the thousandth time. Her ears had long tuned out to the chatter of people around her but vaguely picked up the screeching whir of one of the coffee machines behind the counter. The heel of her shoe tapped repeatedly on the tile floor, and she clenched her teeth at the lack of movement from the line of customers ahead of her.

Should have fucking woken up earlier, she thought. However, the second the thought flitted through her mind, images of your warm, soft sleeping body lying on top of her flashed through her mind’s eye. A pink bush bloomed across her cheeks at the thought of your smooth, nude body and the sounds you made last night, the feeling of your skin gliding over hers, the cries you pulled from her.

She turned her head away from others and glanced out the window, thinking of the soft, heavy weight of you and how her hands slowly, instinctively tightened their hold around your waist. How, without even thinking, she buried her nose in your hair and breathed you in. A smile itched its way onto her face at how you automatically moved toward her in your sleep, curling your arms around her back, fingers lightly gripping her shoulders, your head settling in the crook of her neck.

“Order for Larissa!”

Larissa’s head jerked up toward the barista’s call. The blush deepened to red as she noticed the line of people in front of her no longer there and the impatient scowl of the teenager behind the counter leveled at her. She hastily walked forward and picked up the drink carrier and pastry bags. Her eyes were downcast as she mumbled, “Ah, sorry.”

She turned quickly and walked out of the Weathervane, making a beeline for the dorm you shared at Nevermore. She hoped to god you weren’t awake yet. Hoped that when you opened your eyes and saw her waiting arms with the offering of coffee and breakfast, you would smile, kiss her, lean back into her embrace, and stay in her bed for just a little bit longer. But above all, Larissa hoped that the way you looked at her last night—like she was your whole world, the center of your universe—would stay the same without the layer of alcohol clouding your mind.

She looked up at the winding path of the school as she rounded the corner. The cold morning Autumn air nipped at her skin. She hunched her shoulders and curled her arms inward, pressing the warm coffee and bags of food against her coat. As she crossed the gated drive, Larissa frowned at the onslaught of what-ifs in her mind. Yes, you were both drunk; yes, you were her best friend. Yes, you were there all the times she cried over Morticia, her schoolwork, and the judgmental stares toward her body. Yes, you held her and whispered to her that none of it mattered because she was Larissa, who was intelligent, funny, strong, beautiful, and so much more human than any of those fools, who could do anything she wanted. Yes, you laughed with her, cried with her, studied for finals with her, agonized over assignments with her, danced with her…kissed her, touched her, loved her. Yes, you looked at her like she was something else—something beautiful and important—but was that the same look as the one you gave her last night? Every time you sighed, moaned, and cried out in pleasure with her, was the twinkle in your eyes the same one you always had for her? Was the crooked smile you gave her last night the same as all the ones you gave her every day?

As Larissa walked up the steps and through the doors to your hallway, she thought to herself, Was the same “I love you” you whispered to me last night the same “I love you” you tell me every day?

Larissa came to the door of the dorm room, and she whispered shakily, “Please, God, let it be.” Placing the bag in the crooked of her elbow, she reached out and shouldered the door open. Larissa cringed at the creaking hinges and slowly opened the door. She peaked her head around the frame, let her eyes move over your untouched bed, and then—

Larissa scowled and moved into the room. She stared at her empty bed and, for a second, felt fear seize her body before she heard the sound of a toilet flushing and a sinking running from the closed bathroom door behind her. Larissa sighed heavily and glanced toward the closed door before hurriedly placing the coffee and food down on her nightstand. She saw her note telling you not to go anywhere moved a few inches away from where she had placed it. She smiled at the idea of you waiting for her.

Larissa heard the water turn off from the bathroom and jumped, shrugged off her coat, threw it on a side chair, and hurriedly jumped onto the bed. She fumbled with the blankets, suddenly feeling awkward, and felt her breathing become erratic.

You pushed open the door, a hand dragging over your sleep-pressed face, and shouldered your body through the bathroom doorway. You grunted at your large wings getting caught under the frame. You pressed them down and pushed out with one clawed hand gripping the doorframe.

Larissa heard you coming out, jerked her hands into her lap, and glanced up at you. Her eyes widened, and she screamed, a hand clasped to her gaping mouth.

You flinched and looked up at her with a startled look before glancing at your hands and wings. Right, she’s never seen my form before, she thought. You look at her with a sheepish smile, your fangs sending another jolting shock through Larissa. She stared as your taller, muscle-toned body lugged toward her.

She watched your hand, with blackened finger-like claws, reach behind and run through your unruly bedhead hair while the other slowly curled around the black wing that moved in front of your body. Her eyes rose, and she gaped at the large horns curling out of your head.

Slowly, you said, “Uhh, yeah….not my best morning.”

Larissa sputtered and blinked up at you. “Uh-uh,” she glanced down and saw your biceps flex as you crossed your arms, your muscular thighs, long legs that crossed and uncrossed as you stood there looking anxiously at her. She blushed at your ripped body, now no longer fitting the pajamas you wore.

“Umm, do you huh wanna sit,” she glanced down and gestured to the space next to her.

“Ohh… uhh sure, yeah.” You jumped and walked around to your side. You gingerly lowered yourself to the mattress and rubbed at your forearms.

Larissa felt the heat of your body and glanced up at you. Seeing the growing anxiety and sadness marring your features, she suddenly felt panicked at the realization she screamed in fear at your appearance. She hurriedly turned toward you and hesitantly reached out toward you.

From the corner of your eyes, you watched Larissa slowly place her hand in your larger one, weave her fingers through your blackened ones, and tug you toward her. You glanced at her from under your lashes, and Larissa’s heart broke at how fearful and hesitant she made you become toward her.

Larissa cleared her throat and, remembering why she woke up early, turned and reached for the coffee. Holding the carrier, she leaned towards you, hoping you would face her. “Peace offering,” she asked.

You glanced at the coffee cups, steam still floating out of the opening, and then Larissa’s pleading eyes. You expected fear, hesitancy, judgmental questions—everything people have thrown at you. Yet, all you saw was hope, an unsaid apology, and something else that reminded you of last night and made your heart beat faster. You quirked a smile at her, turned toward her, and reached out to grasp one of the cups.

Larissa sighed and grinned at you. She set the carrier down and reached behind her for the bag of food, never once letting go of your hand. “I got these two,” she said, giggling at how you curiously peered into the bag.

“Ooo, gimme gimme.” You made a grabbing hand at the large hot cinnamon roll she pulled out. Larissa shook her head, and her smile grew at the familiar excitement in your eyes at the food.

“I will never understand your obsession with cinnamon rolls. They're nothing but pure sugar!”

You stuffed a chunk of the pastry in your mouth. While chewing, you said, “Ifs all in fhe ough an icin. Pure heafen.”

Larissa laughed at you and reached out to wipe the excess icing from the corners of your lips. As she pulled her finger away, Larissa looked into your eyes and stared at the little flecks of color she saw up close.

You stared at her, watching her expression morph into that same warm, open admiration. Swallowing your food, you slowly leaned forward and watched Larissa glance down at your lips and then back up to your eyes. You glanced down at her lips before looking back up at her. “Am I really that scary to you?”

She momentarily frowned and tilted her head. She glanced at your black horns and followed their path as they curled above your head like a crown. Her eyes moved to the large wings; they curled around your shoulders, and the feathers glistened onyx under the sunlight streaming in from the window. She let her eyes move over your muscular biceps, your forearms, and down to your hands. She observed how they could easily cover her own, hold them—hold her—like she was the most precious thing to you. Larissa moved her fingers over your blackened fingers and across the long, sharp nails. She looked at you and saw the ends of fangs pointing out of your lips and then to your eyes. Larissa stared at them, and what she found was nothing but love and a fearful hope.

Larissa felt her stomach flip at how you looked at her, and she thought, There it is. There you are. She smiled and slowly as if she was afraid you would bolt from her, she raised her hands to cup your cheeks.

You held your breath at the look she was giving you and wondered if her heart was beating as fast as yours was.

“No, you're not scary at all. Why would you be? You're you—you’re y/n. The same person I've always been in love with…” Larissa whispered. She looked into your eyes and waited, waited, and waited for you to say something, do something.

Your eyes widened at what she said, and you exhaled in shaky breaths. “You… you love me?”

Larissa’s eyes watered, and her smile grew. “I love you. So fucking mu—”

You leaned forward and kissed her with everything you had. You placed your hands around her waist and slowly pulled her onto your lap, forgetting the pastries and coffee.

Larissa sighed into your mouth, tasted the sweet icing on your lips, and moved her hands into your hair.

You ran your hands up her back, feeling her arch into you. You pulled back, leaned your forehead against hers, and gave her a familiar goofy smile that Larissa absolutely adored. “I love you too.”

She grinned, feeling the excitement, relief, and love she had for you wash over her. Larissa kissed you again and wrapped her legs around you. She let her hands wander over your body, feeling your muscles tense and relax under her. You swiped your tongue along her bottom lip, and she flinched at the feeling of your fangs against her lips.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and pulled back.

“No, no! I- I like them…a lot more than you think.” Larissa blushed suddenly, very aware of the hot, wet feeling between her legs. She squirmed in your arms, and the realization dawned on you.

“Ohh, you mean you like them.” You smirked and gripped her hips, pulling her to grind down on you.

Larissa’s breath hitched, and she gripped your shoulders. She tried glaring at you but only sighed when you did it again and began kissing her neck, making sure to glide your fangs over her skin with your tongue. “Asshole.” She groaned as you sucked on her pulse point.

You moved her to one thigh and relished the moan she released as you moved her hips again to give her the friction she needed. “You love me,” you smirked against her lips and kissed her again.

She gasped as you tensed your thigh and felt herself jerking towards you with a growing need. “Ohh, do I.”