#He's the watchful protector the silent knight the moon knight!

[llamaisllama777]

TSAMS X BATFAM AU!

Moondrop A.K.A Crescent

(Moon + Batman)

Sorry for the bad lightning and if the camera angles are poo worthy but anyways he's Crescent's design I drew up a few months back.

-weapons of choice Star/Moon-a-rangs (Basically star and moon shaped batarangs) and bell bombs, the bells that are actually bombs.

-Has loose tassles that he used to swing with like they're a grappling hook.

-Cape lightweight yet durable and can be used to glide (Makes a crescent moon shape when in glide mode)

-His gloves are made of a durable plastic/metal hybrid that can take a few hits and still protect everything inside, plus they have a built-in moon-a-rang gun that fires moon/star-a-rangs in a pinch

-Colors of the suit would be dark blue, gold, and purple, with some grey thrown in there to for good measure.

I will make designs for everyone else. That might take a bit, though. See you then, and I hope you all had a Merry Christmas 🎅 🎄 ✝️ and a happy holidays, too.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Command Me 2/2

knight!benji blackwood x strong!fem!reader

Part One

Summary: The following days after Brandon’s death your emotions are all over the place. You make a confession and a plea to Benji who will do anything to see you happy. 

Warnings: 18+ mentions of death and murder, swearing, oral(f receiving), fingering, p in v, breeding kink, preg!reader for a bit but no birth scene, face riding, nipple play, smutty and sweet, time jumps bc i can, 2% angsty in the beginning 

Authors Note: finishing up @chainsawsangel request, they deserve a happy ending fr

Word Count: 3.1k

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Two days after Brandon’s death

I sit in my chambers with Benji at my side and my mother in front of me silently talking to me. I nod my head not taking in any of her words as Jace eyes me from the hearth. Benji rests his hand on mine and I look down and smile up to him. I turn my head back to my mother as I feel a tear slip down my cheek. 

“My sweet girl.” she coos pulling me into a hug. I don’t even know why I’m so emotional. I asked Benji to do this and I loathed Brandon. I’m just never good when it comes to dealing with The Stranger. My mother rocks me as I let my tears flow and I sniffle and sit back. 

“The silent sisters said he’s ready to be buried.” Jace speaks up and I see him looking over me and Benji. “I don’t see why you insist on waiting and letting his body sit.” 

“We all mourn in our own ways.” Benji says from my side. 

“Mm, the ever faithful protector. Where were you when this happened then?” Jace walks over to the chairs. 

“Outside of my chambers. He’s sworn to me.” I say through my teeth. 

“That’s enough.” our mother stands. “His funeral will be held tomorrow and then we can begin to heal and move forward. Jace, come.” she nods her head along with her to the door. 

I relax back into the couch curling up within myself as Benjis hand grabs mine. I sigh and pull my hand away wrapping it around my legs. My feelings are everywhere right now and everyone is expecting me to act a certain way and I’m just feeling overwhelmed. 

“What’s wrong?” his words hushed as I turn to him and take in his furrowed brow. 

“I think I need to be alone.” I nod my head to him and he offers me a sad smile before slipping out of my chambers. 

I rush to my wardrobe and start sliding on my riding gear. I pull my boots on and I’m in the tunnels in an instant. I can’t stand to be in this castle a second longer. I race down the stairs and slip out the side of the Keep closest to the pits. From there I stitch my way through the city streets avoiding the guards. Relief pours through me as I start up the incline. I hear my dragons distinct rumbling and he’s coming up from the pits by the time I step foot in the dome. 

“Let’s disappear for a while.” I hum patting his snout. I begin to mount and as I secure my last clip Benji runs through the doors. 

“Princess wait, please,” he reaches up to me and my dragon jogs past him and shoots us into the sky. 

We cast a shadow over the city and my dragon offers them a fearsome cry. We swoop low to the buildings and then glide over the Blackwater. He drags his claws into the water encasing us in a mist. The sun kisses my face and dries my tears as we continue further from the city. We loop back around and enter the Kings Wood through the back hoping to go unnoticed offering us a couple hours of reprieve. 

My dragon starts a small fire for us before we curl around it. He brings his wing to canopy over me and I look up and admire his scales. I run my fingers against them as he chuffs and coos. We lay in silence and watch the sun start to dip under the trees. I feel a deep grumble come from my dragon and I’m on my feet in seconds. I quickly mount my dragon and we’re in the skies but not before I can see the hurt express across Benjis face. We land on the coast and the only sound is the waves crashing. 

“I killed my husband.” I look up at the moon. 

I kick off my boots and make quick work of the rest of my clothing. My dragon watches me curiously as I begin to step into the Bay. I dip my head under and swim out further. I hear my dragon offer low chuffs as I float near the sands. 

“Get back on this shore.” Benjis voice is muffled by the water in my ears. 

“No.” I sigh as I turn myself to float further away from the shore.

“Then I’m coming out there.” I hear him enter the Bay. His hand wraps around my arm and I look up to him. “What’s wrong, Princess?” he brushes my wet hair off of my face as I continue to float. 

“I’m sullied, I’ve sullied you, I’m a liar, and I’ve killed my husband.” I sigh and dip my head beneath the waves. Benji pulls me up and starts to carry me back to shore as I hold onto him. 

“You didn’t kill him, I did.” he sits us down on the sands. 

“Why did you kill him?” my voice barely audible as I try not to shiver at the breeze against my skin.

“You asked me to.” his eyes slide to mine. 

“Do you remember my wedding night?” I see him ball his fists. “You told me you would kill him in that very moment. Why did you want to?” I tilt my head studying him. 

“I was mad and frustrated with him. He treated you so poorly and kicked you out of his chambers after. He knew-“ he shakes his head sighing. “He knew, as well as everyone else in that castle, that I wanted you, that I still want you. He would tease you in front of me like some toy I could never have, but you’re not a toy. You’re smart and fearless and a bit reckless. You are to be Queen and should be treated as such.” his eyes finally meet my watery ones and I sniffle pulling him towards me. I can’t contain the small gasps that leave my mouth at the cool touch of his metal armor on my bare body. 

“I want to marry you, Benji. You take such good care of me.” I whisper as I burrow into his neck. His hands stay firmly on my waist as his fingers dig in. 

“We can’t.” he shakes his head. “I’m a knight and your sworn protector.” his voice strained as I stretch to unclip his armor. 

“You were a Lord before.” I hum lifting off his chest piece. “Lord Benjicot Blackwood of Raventree Hall. They call you Bloody Ben for all the accomplishments you achieved for my mother.” I take off his last piece while his fingers are still pressed firmly into my hips. 

“Y/n,” his voice wrecked. 

“Wed me, rule with me. Please Benji, I don’t want anyone else.” my hands start to pull up his shirt. 

“People will talk.” he grunts as I start to unlace his trousers. 

“Let them.” I kiss his neck. “Must I beg you to wed me?” I slip my hand beneath his trousers. 

“You will never have to beg me for anything.” his lips crash into mine and his hands finally begin to roam upon my exposed skin. He lays me on my back and places kisses down my torso before dipping his head between my thighs. 

“Benji,” I cry out as he offers me teasing licks. He chuckles against me before lashing at me with his tongue. My head falls back into the sand while whimpers cascade from my mouth. He holds me against his face as my legs begin to shake while coaxing pleasure from my body.  I arch off the sand as the coil snaps and my legs close around him. 

“Gods look at you in the moonlight.” he kisses up my body before capturing my lips. I gasp into his mouth as I feel his fingers slide through my sensitive core. He dips a finger in and chuckles against my mouth. He slips a second finger in and starts a slow lazy pace as I squirm beneath him. 

“Do you like the way I make you feel?” he asks curling his fingers pulling a moan from me. 

“Yes,” I mewl rocking my hips on his fingers. 

“You look so beautiful like this.” he starts to push his finger into me faster and I can’t contain the sounds coming out of me. “Come for me, Princess.” he murmurs into my neck before sinking his teeth into me. 

“Benji fuck,” I cling to him as I pulse around his ever moving fingers. “I need you in me, please,” my nails dig into his back. 

“You really want to marry me?” his voice low as he kneels up to push down his trousers. 

“I do,” I nod my head ignoring my ragged breathing.

“Do you want to have my children?” he slowly strokes himself and I open my legs wider for him. 

“Yes, Benji please,” I reach out to him.

“I’m going to fill you until my seed is seeping out of you and I’ll keep fucking and filling you until you’re swollen.” my body shudders at his words as he spreads my thighs. His tip slides around my wetness before he pushes into me. He rolls his hips into me and moans begin falling from my mouth. 

“So good, Benji fuck,” I whine as I feel my pleasure begin to wash through me. He leans down and kisses me fiercely as he pounds his hips into mine. I cling around him and I feel my stomach start to tighten. His thrusts get sloppier the more high pitched my whines are. He bursts inside me as my toes curl while I contract around him. 

“Taking it all so well,” he rasps as he continues to push his hips into mine. He dips down and licks across my lips. I open my mouth letting his tongue coax small gasps and moans from me. “When these fill with milk I’ll be tempted not to even let you leave our chambers.” he chuckles rolling my nipples. 

“Benji,” I move my hips and he pushes into me deeper. He shushes me as he continues to roll his hips into me. I writhe beneath him as he litters kisses and bites across my chest. I start to feel him harden the more he pumps into me. He brings a finger down to swirl against my bud and I come undone as he begins to start pushing into me. 

“Squeezing me so good.” his fingers dig into my sides as he makes my hips meet his. I wrap my legs around his waist and cry out as his hips snap into me. I feel my high approaching again and Benjis thrusts become more erratic. As he starts to fill me again I come crying out his name. He pulls out and looks down with pleasure glazed eyes. 

“Look at you dipping with my seed.” he slides two fingers around and starts pumping it back into me. My hips jerk at his touch as my legs shake. 

“Benji,” my voice cracks as his tongue licks against my bud. “I’m gunna-“ a cry tears from my throat as I come again with my eyes rolling back. 

“You’re perfect.” he hums laying down in the sand next to me. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Six months after wedding 

I walk down the main steps of the Keep with Benji hovering around me keeping both hands on me at all times. Once we make it to the bottom I huff and bat his hands away. I should’ve know that since he was overbearing as my sworn protector he would be so much worse as I’m carrying his child. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t carry you down the stairs.” he says bringing a hand to my lower back and holding my arm with the other. 

“Benji I’m not going to break.” I sigh. “I just want to go for a walk around the grounds.” I pout looking up at him. 

“We are going for a walk.” he hums leading me out of the main doors. 

“I don’t need your hands guiding my every step.” I try not to snap. 

“I just want to help you and touch you. My beautiful wife.” he coos sliding a hand to my swollen bump. “Men need to know you’re mine.” his voice low.

“They know I’m yours, husband.” I look up to him and place my hand over his on my stomach. 

“I still see the way men look at you. Makes me want to take you in front of them.” he dips down to my ear. 

“Benji,” I breathe out. 

“Spread these beautiful thighs of yours and lick you until you cry.” his arms pull me closer. “And then-“ 

“Benji, please,” I mewl feeling my wetness pool between my legs. 

“Look at you all worked up.” he chuckles gazing down at me. “You wanted to go on a walk not come, so let’s go.” I follow after him with pink cheeks. I wrap my arm around his as he leads us through the gardens. 

“What else would you do?” I whisper and he turns to me with a smirk. 

“It might be too scandalous for the gardens.” his lips brush against my ear. 

“Tell me.” I whine breathlessly. 

“Let’s go back to our chambers.” I nod tugging him back to the main doors. 

Once we’re sealed in our chambers he starts to unlace my dress before sliding it down my body. He groans kneading the tender flesh of my breasts. I let out soft whimpers as he ghosts across my nipples. He pulls the slip off of me and brings his hands to my bump while pressing his lips against mine. I pull up on his shirt and he pulls it off and is stepping out of his trousers a moment later. I sigh feeling his skin on mine and his hands caressing my body. 

“Benji,” I whine against his lips as his fingers trail over my slit. 

“Yes, Princess?” his fingers spread into my wetness and swirl over my sensitive bud. 

“I’m gunna come,” I cling onto his arms getting lost in him.

“I just started touching you.” he chuckles speeding up his fingers. 

“Benji please,” I whine as my body goes taught coming undone. 

“Someone’s sensitive today.” he purrs backing me to the bed. “Sit on my face.” he lays out on the bed pulling me to him. 

“I’ll suffocate you.” my cheeks heat. 

“Then I’ll die happy. Let’s go.” he helps me straddle his face. He licks a long stripe up my center and my whole body trembles. My legs start to shake as I lean my head back letting the whimpers trickle out. I grind against his face as my pleasure starts to wash through me. He holds me closer as his tongue slips through my wetness before pushing into me. 

“Benji, it’s too much I’m gunna-“ I squeeze my legs around his face as he laps up my release. His tongue continues to lick sending aftershocks through me. He helps me off of him and lays me next to him on my back. 

“I just wanna keep making you come, my beautiful wife.” he kisses against my chest while trailing a hand down to my core. His tongue circles nipple and I squeeze my thighs shut before he can even reach my wetness. He chuckles against my nipple and I melt beneath him. He pulls his other hand up from my thighs and brings it to my neglected breast. He kneads into me softly as I mewl above him. 

“Yes,” I pant breathlessly holding him against me. His teeth graze against my peak while his fingers roll my other and I come undone. 

“I know you can give me more.” he purrs slipping his hand down to my core. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Four years after wedding

I hold tightly to my daughter who’s clipped against me. My dragon soars through the clouds as she giggles wildly in my arms. Her baby dragon flies next to us crying out. I was absolutely terrified to bring her with on dragon back the first time but my dragon was calm and accommodating. As we land in the pits her dragon comes bounding in stumbling on his lengthy legs. We slide down off the side and I unclip her so she can run over to her dragon hugging him tightly. 

“She may steal your title for youngest dragon rider.” Benji kisses me before pulling me into a hug. 

“Her dragon has grown quite fast.” we look at our daughter playing with her dragon. “Did she show you which one she picked out?” I turn to him with a smile and he shakes his head no.

“Let’s go show daddy which egg you picked out for the babe.” I kneel down holding my arms out for her. She runs into my arms and I scoop her up. 

We travel down the incline and turn into the hot room where they house the clutches. Our daughter wiggles out of my arms before grabbing Benjis hand and dragging him to the back wall. 

“He’s gunna have this red one.” she lays her little palm on the egg. 

“He?” Benji turns to me with a smile. 

“She’s decided she’s having a brother.” I smile rubbing my bump. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Just under five years after the wedding

“If the family tradition keeps up like this your grandchildren will come out on dragonback.” my mother chuckles next to me bouncing my son on her hip as we watch my daughter fly around the courtyard a couple moons shy of five. 

“Did you hear that his is already spitting fire.” I sigh brushing his hair back. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.” she smiles to me. “I’m happy to see you content.” 

“I am.” I smile as Benji scoops up our daughter before jogging over to us. My mother hands off my son to me before sweeping out of the courtyard. 

“My perfect family.” he showers all of us with kisses before pulling us into a hug. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌 

i’ve been neglecting the His Wife mini series but this def got the ball rolling again for me 

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shin0n

[sorcerousundries]

Her Graces loyal protecter

Criston Cole as your sworn protector

(the one where he’s injured during a tourney)

Warnings; Fem!Reader, Established relationship, Reader is described with Targaryen features(Violet eyes, long silver hair, implied pale skin), Rhaenyra is wed to Harwin Strong, Rhaenyra and Reader are heavily implied to be twins, Dubious age dynamics, stolen Rhaenyra dialogue, Daemon loves his niece in a non creepy way

A/N: He’s so fine when he shuts up

Content under the cut

The carriage jostled as it went over rocks and bumps in the road, the road to The Red Keep was always long but the road seemed to forever go on as the uncomfortable silence bore on.

You braved a glance to the other side of the carriage. Alicent Hightower. your Sisters Best-friend sat on the other side of the bench like seat.

You remember a time when all three of you would sit underneath the great tree in the courtyard, huddled together with mud staining the bottoms of your dresses, reading the song of ice and fire, one of you shrieking that you weren’t done reading the page.

It felt like centuries ago, now you both sit with blank stares. your father sits at the head of the carriage, before you left, you had a rather nasty row regarding your betrothal.

Your sister had done the same, your father told you.

Your thoughts were cut short as the carriage swayed to a stop, you had to cringe to stop yourself from rolling your eyes when your father took Alicents hand in his, giving her a soft smile.

You sat alone with your thoughts for a couple moments watching through the small window as the two figures disappeared up the steps of the royal box.

You looked down at your gown, typical Targaryen colours, Red and Black.

The rounded neckline encrusted with rubies along with the bodice giving way to panel of red in the middle of the skirt, two dragons on either side of the skirt panels.

“Your grace” you heard someone call, your cue to make your way to the box.

Stepping out of the carriage and taking the steps one at a time, trying to drag out the length before you would have to sit in her another awkward silence before the start of the tourney.

You took your seat, huffing as the velvet crinkled around your form, looking over at the array of knights, you recognise some.

A Greyjoy, a Baratheon, a Hightower, your uncle Daemon and the one you were seeking.

Criston.

In silver armour and a Dornish patterned shield on his forearm with his white cloak splayed on his horses rump, you could not see his face but you smiled at the image of his tan skin and dark locks flickering in your mind.

You’re snapped from your gawking as drums sound, the start of the tourney.

People cheering rings in your ears, you clap as the competitors line up.

Your Aunt Rhaenys blesses Boremund Baratheon with her favor, but it was in vain as he is struck down from his horse.

Your uncle in turn chooses Gwayne Hightower to joust. You can feel the air tense as they take their sides.

You can’t help but snicker as your uncle is very literally taken off his high horse, the second time he gets lucky, darting his lance out to swipe his horses feet from under him.

Gwayne lands hard, Daemon with a smug smile on his face, you stand as daemon trots over to the box.

“Nicely done uncle” you smirk, leaning your forearms onto the bannister, “thank you princess” he grins, “it’s in all certainty I can say that I will win these games lēkianna, yet having your favor would all but assure it” he says, pointing his lance at you.

You snort silently as you walk over to seat, grabbing the red and white knights favor, you lock eyes with Alicent, paralleling her as she done the same thing moons ago.

You toss the favor, it circles his lance before landing at the hilt.

He smiles before trotting back to his place at the tilt, knights chat among themselves before the herald cries “Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against Ser Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the city”.

This stills your heart and you lean forward in your seat, watching as both men take their places.

Both waiting for the other to make their first move, the tension is palpable, almost thick enough to cut with a knife.

In a blink of an eye Daemon spurs his horse forward and both men charge towards eachother, the first lap Daemon nicks Criston, when they swap lances and charge again it felt like it was in slow motion.

Criston jabs Daemon and he falls like a rag doll being dragged by his horse down the tilt bar before face planting onto the ground.

You smile with relief as you watch Criston steady his horse, clapping and cheering for him as the crowd roars.

But your relief fades as Daemon challenges Criston to a contest of arms, they swing at eachother.

Daemon with a sword, Criston with a mace, you watch incredulously as the men swing desperately, their shields breaking down.

Your mouth turns upward in an almost shocked expression as Daemon is struck to the ground, Criston taking the victory, he slaps Cristons hand away as he attempts to help your uncle up.

Both men limp off, you jump from your seat, not minding the puzzled look your father shoots your way, you pick up your skirts as you rush down the stairs, the uneven steps and winding hallways familiar to you.

You end up at the entry flap of his tent, you can hear other knights and nobles speculating and gossiping about the tourney, you open the flap, bowing your head as to not ruin the array of braids neatly arranged on your silver head.

There he sits, shirtless, his tanned muscles flexing as he wipes the gashes on his arms and abdomen, groaning as they sting.

“Ser” you say, grabbing his attention, he looks up immediately “princess” he smiles.

You return the grin, slinking over to him to stand between his legs, taking the blood soiled cloth from his hands, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger, you dab at the blood dripping from the corner of his lip.

“I’ll admit you had me worried for a moment” you murmur, his dark eyes are wide and soft as they look up at your violet ones.

“And why would that be princess?” He smirks, raising his eyebrows at you.

“I thought my Uncle had finally got the best of you when he falsely claimed his victory, but it seems you proved me wrong” the praise dripping with honey from your lips as you apply the egg white and wine mixture onto his wounds.

“You certainly know how to make an entrance, don’t you Ser?, I thought you were supposed to be a fearless knight, not a fallen one” you jab playfully.

His smirk grows “I like to think of it as a dramatic flair, besides, I didn’t want to steal all of the attention from the other knights”. You laugh lightly “well you certainly succeeded, now hold still I don’t want to make you look even more of a fool” you seat his shoulder lightly as he squirms from the sting of the paste mixture.

“If you keep talking like that, I might just need to start charging you for my championship, a knight should not have to endure such teasing with proper compensation”.

You raise an eyebrow, “oh?, and what compensation do you have in mind, Ser Criston” you giggle.

He grins “perhaps a dance at the next royal feast?, I promise to keep my feet to myself this time” he chimes, you chuckle as you remember the first time you tried to show Criston how to dance, your toes were sore for nearly two moons after it.

“Is that a challenge?, I’ll have you know Prince Ommen Macklyn told me I was the most charming dancer this side of the emerald sea.

He bows his head as deep laughter reverbs through his chest “I’ve seen how you handle a sword, i can only imagine how you handle the dance floor. I’d be the one needing protection then” your jaw drops in mock offense.

You finish placing the cloth bandage on his jaw before you lean closer, almost touching noses with him, “you know, if you keep flirting with me, I might just honour you with a kiss the next time we dance together”

“That is a dangerous offer to make, I might just take you up on that offer” he hums, gripping your hips softly in his calloused hands to pull you onto his lap.

“Oh of course, how terrible it would be if you took me up on the offer. I suppose I could compromise by offering you a kiss now” you roll your eyes playfully, “truly wicked” he mutters before his lips seal over yours.

[embersoftheorder]

DWC - August - Day 5 - Wild

The Green Son wandered the lands of Drustvar with an easy smile upon his face, the air cool go skin and the sun setting into dusk. It honestly was how it always was in the woods, but he loved it and likely would beyond even the end of his service. Beldwin Storm was not a native to these shores but over the last few years he definitely was no longer a stranger.

Beld would slowly come to a halt near a small copse of trees, his gauntleted hand coming to gently caress the bark of one of the old oaks. He could hear a soft hum in his head that could be considered unpleasant but had become a song that he could more feel than understand. It was a gift that Athair had bestowed upon him to hear the natural wild words of the land he had adopted as his own. The land had been ravaged for so long by the terrible powers of the Coven that its soft song had been drowned out in the silent screams of agony as the druid death magic warped it. The Crimson wood always made him shiver at the cacophony of agony that never ended from the wicker beasts that were drawn forth. He leaned his head to rest on the oak letting its own hum drown out the memory. He didn’t need that today.

Today was a good day that needed not the dour notes from the western provinces of the country. Birth was the note, not death, this day.

Releasing the tree, the knight continued on his journey making his way with ease but still with purpose. There was time yet to make it to the pool where his patron waited and there was much to rejoice with the wilds about him.

A new prince would be born this day.

There were many of the lineage of Athair but each had a purpose to fulfill. Some were short lived and bright, others long and steady like a bountiful season. Beld prayed for bounty but knew it was not his decision. The Word willed and spoke, the ending was already being written.

Storm would finally break the tree line and find himself before the mighty falls of the white stag.

Athair, Heart of the Forest, stood silent before the waters. White fur shone bright and clean in the waning light as it cascade to bring a silver sheen to the might crown of horns upon his head. Eyes black as midnight would stare at Beldwin, the stag lord’s demeanor calm and face regal as he tipped his head to welcome his wayward gallant.

Beld would stride forward and gently drop to one knee, the ancient bronze mail clinking softly with his motion of reverence and respect to the king. No words had been spoken as Beldwin would never be able to speak the language of his lord but honestly it was never needed. Emotions, thoughts, and dreams were the humans guidance to the will of the forest. It made it hard to question some of the motives of the lord, but the knight had yet to be lead astray by Athair’s will. This was a just lord and he was glad to have been found worthy.

The final streaks of evening light had slipped behind the mountains bringing the evening and darkness of night. Where Drustvar was a land plagued by the nights terrors in most shadows, it was not truly something to fear. It was just a part of the order of things and the will of the Word as it had written long ago. So too was there heralds and protectors of the night, as from the shadows crept the stout boars of the wood, courageous wolves who maintained balance, and even the black eyes ravens who always kept watch. But the night had one lady and she was as much a soul to the forest as she was consort to the heart.

Athainne, secret keeper of the forest.

Made of starlight and moon shine, the doe was beautiful in her own right as the violets of twilight were intertwined in the black coat of night. She was of smoke and shadow as she stepped across the waters to stand with her lord. Tenderness was easily determined to match the love the two beings felt for one another as eyes closed but a moment in honest trust.

As the grand gathering proceed a hush fell upon all the unsettling silence of the wild as it waited with bated breath. Even the waterfalls came to silent half, the rock below their pummeling drive growing dry as the river waited.

Beldwin would bow his head in reverence as did other subjects to the forest monarches, all in silence as they awaited the ceremony of the moon.

Ages passed in seconds as night fully came and the moon shone full far in the heavens above. As the moonlight struck the pool, the heart and keeper of the forest turned to the pool of sparkling water of the still lake.

Stories would speak of thunder crashing or a flash of great light or perhaps the heralds of the night screaming with horns of glory. But that was not how it was done. It was subtle, it was peaceful, it was instant.

He was beautiful.

Upon the lake the faun had come to be. Born of moonlight, strengthened by starlight, guided by sunset, and welcomed with love. His eyes shone with brilliant blue, the gift of the mother, while his white coat brilliant white shone with the majesty of his father. He stood shaky upon the mirror surface of the lake, searching amongst the audience for some reaction. Fight or flight was all the newborn would know at this moment.

The Green Son stood. He would draw away his gauntlet to reveal his bare flesh, brown as the earth and rough as the oak’s skin. His hand raised as he spoke with not a cry or yell, but a smooth even voice. The reason he as chosen and granted this station among the forest. “Hail. Hail unto the Prince of the Forest. Welcome son of the heart and secrets, we welcome you.”

The prince would raise his head. He would stare at Beldwin. The knight would look back.

The prince would step forward onto the land that was called Drustvar.

The waterfalls cheered once more.

@daily-writing-challenge

[daphnefisherofficial]

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Avatar Fem!Reader

masterlist | previous | next chapter

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - THE HIDDEN PROTECTOR.

Marc Spector watched with a mixture of amusement and concern, his bemused grin in place as the two of you stumbled out of the cozy pub, the warm embrace of alcohol having worked its magic on you both. You swayed slightly, your gait unsteady, but your spirits were high. The hour had crept past midnight, and the streets of London were bathed in the soft glow of streetlamps and the distant hum of city life. He, along with Steven Grant inside their shared consciousness, walked a few steps behind you, ensuring you didn't take a spill or tumble headfirst on the cobblestone streets.

You decided to walk backwards, your gaze locked on Marc, who followed your every movement with an indulgent smile. The alcohol had loosened your tongue, and with a lopsided grin painting your lips, you rambled on about anything and everything, your words a merry jumble of observations about the city and its people.

"Marc," you slurred, pointing at a passing black cab, "did you know these taxis look like big, shiny beetles? I swear, it's like we're in a giant insect parade!"

“Yeah, baby”, Marc chuckled softly, his Chicago accent tinged with affection as the inhibitions of calling you by his preferred term of endearment finally passed his lips with ease. "They do look a bit like that, don't they?"

“They do”, you continued your tipsy commentary as you continued strolling backwards, your laughter ringing out in the night air. “And you, my beautiful Marc, are like a shadowy guardian angel. Always a step behind, making sure I don't fall into the abyss of drunkenness."

“How poetic of you, sweet Mira”, Marc chuckled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in mirth as he mirrored your steps with ease. He grinned at your compliment, though it was clear you were beyond rational thought at this point. He'd learned a lot about you during your late-night conversations, but this was the first time he'd seen you in such a state.

As you approached a slightly secluded alleyway on your way to the bus station, you noticed a solitary lamp post still lit and a few meters away. A mischievous thought crossed your mind, memories of a pole dancing lesson you were forcibly enrolled in by your good friend Aleah, flashing before you. With a playful grin, you decided to give Marc a show.

"Watch this, Marc!" you exclaimed, twirling around the lamppost and gripping it with surprising grace. You swayed and spun, mimicking the simple moves you'd learned, your laughter mixing with the night breeze.

“Looking good, Mira!” Marc watched in utter amusement, his hazel brown eyes fixed on you as he exclaimed tipsily how much he liked your performance. "I’m so proud of you, darling"

You ended your impromptu pole dance with a cute, theatrical pose, earning a hearty round of applause from Marc. He shook his head, utterly entertained by your antics as he burst into a hearty, boisterous laughter for probably the first time ever in his turbulent life. It was a rare, carefree moment that he wished to imprint in his memory forever.

Unbeknownst to both of you, masked assailants had been silently tailing from behind, their intentions far from benign as they were concealed in the shadows of the alley. Armed with malevolent intent and their hands gripping wolfsbane guns, weapons specifically designed to kill those they were aimed at. They had been sent on a mission to eliminate you - a sinister plan that has already been decades in the making.

Two gunshots pierced the quiet London night, shattering the peaceful ambiance. Marc's eyes widened in sheer surprise and horror, time seemingly coming to a stop as he saw your top slowly staining with the gushing flow of your own crimson blood. Panic gripped him as he watched you crumple to the cement floor, a small crescent moon tattoo on his body beginning to glow with an eerie intensity.

The pain in his shoulder and lower back was searing, nearly unbearable, but he couldn't focus on that. He sprinted toward you, his heart pounding in his chest, as his mind raced to comprehend the unfolding nightmare. The world around him blurred, the relentless agony threatening to engulf him as his face contorted with both fear and anger.

Meanwhile, chaos reigned inside their shared headspace. Steven Grant, who was usually calm and composed, was now screaming bloody murder, his voice echoing through the confines of their mind. He was helplessly trapped, unable to do anything but watch in terror as events spiraled out of control before him.

Then, as if the universe itself was conspiring against Marc Spector, a sudden darkness overcame his vision. It was as if an unseen force was forcibly pushing him out of his own consciousness. Before he succumbed to the overwhelming pressure, his blurring vision caught a glimpse of a familiar crescent moon tattoo identical to the one on his own body, glowing brilliantly white on your jugular, the very spot where his most recent, mysterious tattoo had manifested.

...

Jake Lockley was only supposed to merely watch from the shadows of Marc Spector's fractured mind that Friday night. He silently observed you, the object of his secret fascination, from the dimly lit recesses of their shared consciousness. A small, crooked smile played on his lips as he watched you with a mix of amusement and adoration, seeing you twirling near a lamppost in a slightly secluded alleyway. Your laughter rang out, infectious and sweet, as you executed a mini pole dancing routine. Your movements were fluid and mesmerizing, and he couldn't help but be captivated by your beauty and your quirky charm. There was something about the way you carried yourself, especially when you were a little tipsy, that made him smile despite himself.

With a final flourish, you ended your short performance with a cute pose, leaving Jake grinning from the shadows of Marc's mind.

But that fleeting moment of contentment shattered when two gunshots pierced the silence. Panic immediately seized Jake's heart in an invisible tight grip, his world seemed to stop as he watched you slowly succumb to your knees to the cold cement floor of the London streets. The wolfsbane poison carried by the bullets took effect immediately, as the new moon further inhibited your innate avatar ability to heal and be impervious to harm.

Your limp form was a stark contrast to the vibrant, spirited woman he had known just moments ago as Marc instinctively caught you in his arms, his eyes now wide with shock and panic. Steven, trapped in the forefront of Marc's mind, was screaming helplessly to no end as he pleaded Marc to take you to the hospital.

Jake, however, was done lurking in the shadows and playing the silent observer. Fear and fury coursed through him, consumed by the guilt and the urgency of the situation.

And at that moment, he decided that he couldn't stand idly by any longer. With a surge of willpower, Jake forcibly pushed his consciousness to the forefront, relegating Marc to the backseat of their fractured mind. It was time for him to act - consequences be damned.

Jake’s senses sharpened as he finally took the reins. He could feel the cold London air against his skin, taste the metallic tang of fear and danger in the air. The masked assailants who had attacked you were still at large, and they had marked him, your companion, as their next target.

With a guttural growl of anger, Jake summoned his ceremonial armor that was once Marc’s with a swift and deliberate motion. The former white Egyptian old threads were now ebony black as it enveloped his arms and torso, the design intricate and etched with symbols of the moon god Khonshu. His dark cape billowed around him, forming a protective shield around you as the assailants continued their relentless gunfire assault. 

Jake's eyes burned with a dangerous intensity, his look crazed and borderline dangerous as he tried to shake you awake, calling your name in his heavy Spanish accent. 

"¡Despierta, Mira!" he growled, his gloved hand gently tapping your cheek repeatedly. "Wake up, cariño, please!"

The world around him seemed to slow down as Jake quickly assessed the situation. The assailants, their faces concealed by masks, were firing volley after volley of wolfsbane bullets in their direction. But he was not about to be a helpless victim. With a flick of his wrist, he wielded his cape with precision, deflecting the bullets back in the assailants' direction with deadly accuracy. The shock on their faces was palpable as they scrambled for cover. 

"Finish the job, Jake”, Khonshu's voice echoed in his mind, a dark and commanding presence. “I will make sure to protect Mira. Show them our wrath for daring to threaten her life."

Jake felt an unsettling mix of exhilaration and dread as he obeyed Khonshu's command. With swift, brutal efficiency, he closed the distance between himself and the assailants. His gloved fists were like sledgehammers as they started to strike with unrelenting force. The fight was brutal, a chaotic dance of fists, kicks, and the gleaming edges of his crescent darts. He moved like a shadow, striking with precision and power. 

Bones snapped, and bodies crumpled under his onslaught. The moonlight glinted off his ceremonial armor, giving him an otherworldly aura of power as blood stained the cobblestones beneath his boots with the assailants falling one by one.

But he wasn't satisfied with mere vengeance. He wanted answers. And he was about to get them when one of the assailants, bloodied and broken, managed to wheeze out a few vital information as he gasped for breath. 

"Die soon... Set... will be pleased."

"Who sent you?" he growled in his thick Spanish accent, his grip tightening around the assailant’s throat as he pinned him to the ground, a savage glint in his eyes. "Who wants her dead?"

“You’re too late, Moon Knight”, the assailant's lips curled into a wicked smile, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. "Mayari's avatar will die soon. At his hands, victory will soon be ours.”

His words sent a shiver down Jake's spine, but he refused to let fear take hold. 

"Who is behind this?" he pressed further, his voice laced with menace. “Who is Set’s avatar?!”

The assailant laughed softly, his breaths growing shallower as life seeped away from him. "You'll find out soon enough," he wheezed, his eyes glazing over. With one final shuddering breath, he fell silent, taking his secrets to the grave.

Jake released the lifeless body before him, his mind racing with thoughts and questions. But one thing was clear—your life hangs in the balance, and he would stop at nothing to make sure you will not lose your life on his watch.

Despite his hardened exterior, Jake Lockley was trembling with panic as he immediately went by your side, watching your olive-brown complexion slowly pale due to the toxic effects of wolfsbane now slowly coursing through your veins. Blood continued to flow from your wounds, staining the cold ground beneath you. His fury was barely concealed as hot tears cascaded down Jake's face, his facade of stoicism cracking under the weight of despair.

He couldn't afford to lose you. He simply can’t.

"What can I do to save her?” Jake shouted at Khonshu, his voice filled with desperation. “Tell me what I should do!"

“Take her to Marc Spector’s flat”, Khonshu's voice was calm and composed, offering a lifeline amidst the chaos. "There's a way to counter the poison. But you must hurry."

Jake nodded resolutely, his alters still simmering beneath the surface of his mind as he cradled your limp form protectively into his arms. With a surge of power, he prepared to take flight and carry you to safety back to their London flat.

But before he could ascend, a powerful spell stopped him in his tracks. He turned to see a shimmering, ethereal presence materialize before him, divine and radiant. It was your patron moon goddess, Mayari, the fury unmistakable in both her luminous and blind eyes.

"You will go no further," she declared, her voice echoing with the authority of a divine being. “Let go of my fallen avatar, Jake Lockley”

“Goddess Mayari, please”, Jake’s voice trembled despite his rage and fear, unable to directly defy your patron goddess’s command. “We need your help, she’s dying”

“This is all your fault, Khonshu!” Mayari’s voice shook with fury as she faced Khonshu directly, who merely watched the ongoing exchange with barely concealed guilt in his facade. 

“We do not have time for this, Mayari”, Khonshu retorted as his own frustration grew. Despite your displeasure at him, the Egyptian moon god has treated you all your long life as if you were his own offspring. “Mira and my avatars share life forces, if you remember. He can save her, goddess”

“Yes, please”, Jake agrees, willing to try just about anything at this point. “I’ll do anything to keep her alive. Anything”

“Very well”, Mayari’s eyes bore into Jake's, her anger momentarily subsiding as she considered his plea. "I will come with you both, so do what you must. But you will answer to me for what has transpired tonight, Jake Lockley"

Relief washed over Jake as Mayari's acceptance of their plea offered a glimmer of hope. "Thank you, Mayari," he said sincerely.

As the London night continued to bear witness to Jake Lockley’s chaotic, stormy thoughts, he readjusted his hold on you as he pulled you even close and protectively in his arms. Mayari’s spell finally lifted, allowing him to finally take flight and bring you back to their London flat. In that moment, Jake's world shifted once more as your fate hung in the balance once again - the woman he had secretly admired and sworn to protect. 

And with the moon goddess watching closely as your intertwined bugna (true destinies) were being woven right before her ever-watchful eyes, Mayari realized then that she could no longer keep your looming tagna (prophecy) at bay.

END OF CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

masterlist | previous | next chapter

[deathmybride]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ these violent delights | davos blackwood (part 7) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ❤️‍🔥| Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 ❤️‍🔥

ship: davos blackwood x fem!oc

warnings: none really, but it is angsty

summary: cersha and davos arrive at riverrun to treat with oscar tully

word count: 1935

a/n: very oscar-centred part so I hope you enjoy seeing everyone's favourite little boy :)

The Great Hall seemed larger than either Cersha or Davos remembered, though Riverrun could be considered a diminutive castle. The guards had met them with suspicion at the gate, and it had taken much pleading for them to grant the pair an audience with Oscar, though it seemed from the snide looks from guards and courtiers alike that their status as nobility was not believed. They were stripped immediately of their meagre possessions and told they were to be held until the lord regent approved their return. The palfreys were confiscated and lead to the stables, bickering all the while. Davos had the impulse to confront the guards for their injustice, but found his well of ardour had run dry, so in defeat he was silent.

They had been travelling for days, and the journey across the bridge and through the winding battlements sapped their remaining energy; Davos in particular limped heavily, though he bristled still at the the dirty looks thrown their way. His stitches had burst after the fight with the Night’s Watchman and the wound reopened, still weeping blood from time to time through the day. Cersha supported him around the waist, just as she had on that dawn that felt a year ago and yesterday. The thought occurred to him that he ought to be embarrassed of his weakness before the eyes of those guards and courtiers, but he was exhausted and the feel of her pressed against his side was too great a comfort to forgo.

So that is how they found themselves in the Great Hall, shrunken and dirty before the grey stone walls dripping with opulent blue and red heraldry. The place was empty but for the figure of a boy who stood and faced them, hands folded behind his straight back, feet planted just so, hair combed in perfect auburn curls. It was the eyes that gave him away; glassy blue-green and sunken in, hung with dark half-moons. It took barely a moment for his facade of formality to crack and he rushed forward to embrace the girl, caring nothing for the dirt and wild still clinging to her.

“Osc,” She whispered to the crook of his neck.

“You’re alive.” He tangled his hand in the loose braid of her hair. “Thank the gods you’re alive.”

They held one another for a long moment in silent reverie before Davos roughly cleared his throat behind them.

“Ah.” She said as they broke apart. “My lord, this is Ser Davy of Briarwhite, a hedge knight who came into our service shortly before the battle for the boundary stones. He chastely swore himself as my protector and helped me escape before the Blackwoods took Stone Hedge. I owe him my life.”

“Ser,” Oscar stepped forward and stiffly shook his hand. “Your bravery will not be forgotten. As her sworn protector you are most welcome to any hospitality Riverrun might award to Lady Bracken, and I will see to it that you are properly rewarded for your service.”

“Thank you.” He muttered, flushing.

“There is blood on your hands.” He took gentle hold of Cersha and looked her over. “And on your gown, I see. How did this happen?”

“A sworn brother of the Night’s Watch lies dead in the wood just south of the Riverroad.” Davos cut in before Cersha could recite her ruse. “He tried to rape my lady, so I killed him. It happened as the sun set last evening. I can take you to his body on the morrow. What you do with me in punishment, I don’t care.”

He shook his head a little as he spoke, a defiant half-smile fighting to show on his face. Oscar’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and he turned to Cersha, still holding her gently by the elbows as if she were as breakable as a bird.

“Is this the truth, my lady?”

“Aye.” Her eyes met with Davos’ and saw them as dark pools, simmering with feeling and thought untold.

Oscar bowed his head, a weak scoff escaping his lips. He put his hand to her cheek and kissed her hair, unable to speak on the subject any further lest he burst with rage. He swallowed the tremor in his voice before he spoke again.

“I see. Would you like to wash and rest?”

“I hoped you might walk me to the sept, though my knight would like some respite, I’d wager.”

Davos’ eyes flared defiantly and it seemed to Cersha that he might protest, but as she shot him a pleading look, he swallowed the rebuke.

“Ser Cleos,” Oscar addressed the guard who remained at the entrance. “Please escort Ser Davy to one of the spare chambers in the east wing. See to it he has hot water for a bath, and send for Maester Osferth to treat his wounds. Bring him food, garb, whatever he should like.” He cast a look to Cersha, an expression almost like regret softened his face. “And have the maids prepare the adjacent chambers for Lady Bracken.”

The knight stepped up and offered his arm to Davos, who glared at it for a moment in disbelief, then set his teeth and turned away from it.

“I walk just fine unaided, thank you, Ser.”

He turned and limped away, the knight watching him closely with an almost fatherly concern. Cersha’s gaze did not leave him until he disappeared around the corner, and lingered where she caught the last glimpse of him, only breaking her stare when Oscar’s hand found her shoulder. She let him link his arm with hers and guide her away, through the hall to the Godswood.

“You’ve grown so tall.” In the storm of her thoughts, it was the only one she could grasp.

“A lot can change in a year, my lady.” She did not miss the pride on the young lord’s face.

“Has it really been so long? I’m sorry I could not attend the last assize; my father thought it an insult to seat me in your midst after so harshly rejecting our betrothal.”

“Cedric Bracken at last unswayed by his wild northern daughter?” He teased. “I never thought the day would come.”

“Hush you. Asides, he was trying to appease Uncle Amos. He was the one who proposed our union after all.”

“True.”

A strange silence settled on them as they stepped into the Godswood. Sunflowers, roses, and daffodils bent their faces to watch them as they passed, though the red weeping weirwood seemed the only thing in the wood that truly saw them. It seemed to Cersha that there was something simmering unsaid, and that soon it would boil over and Oscar would be unable to keep his thoughts to himself.

“I see you have at last found a man worthy of your heart.”

“Ser Davy swore himself chastely-”

“Ser Davos-” He corrected with a pointed look, making her flush in panic. “-Blackwood is incapable of chastity. I am chaste.”

“Osc.” She sighed, her heart aching. “Please don’t tell me you’re still upset about this. A childhood fancy is nothing to build a marriage upon.”

“An unrequited fancy, you so tactfully omit.”

“I’m sorry.” She turned and tried to pull him into a comforting embrace, but he shook her off testily, untangling their linked arms. “What will you do to him?”

“No harm will befall him,” He sighed. “I assure you this. Though I will meet with him on the morrow. There is much to be discussed.”

“Such as?”

He shot her a look of exasperation that served to silence her, and they walked on.

“How did you recognise him anyway?” She queried in an attempt to break the tension. “He told me he was the grandson of lord Samwell’s uncle. Surely not someone you would keep your eyes on.”

“I am familiar with all my grandfather’s vassals and their sons, daughters, nephews, nieces, cousins…” In spite of himself, he cracked a smile. “His scar gave him away. It was Elmo who gave it to him after all.”

“Elmo?” She wondered aloud at the mention of his late elder brother, that familiar ache of grief bubbling in her chest.

“At the tourney for my tenth nameday. Should my memory serve, you were indisposed at Harrenhall, plotting your escape from one of Ser Simon’s gormless progeny. They were engaged in single combat by sword, it turned ugly and they came to blows. Elmo struck him and broke his nose, Davos broke his collarbone, and they had to be dragged apart. I never forgot his face.”

“I must admit, Davos appears to harbour a temper.”

“Just like Elmo. However you came to be in his company must be quite the story, however I cannot say that I’m surprised. You loved Elmo for his fire.”

“You knew?”

“I saw it writ plain on your face, as plain as your love for Davos is writ across it now.”

“I always thought I was such a good liar…”

“Not to me.” A faint smile broke through the sorrow on his face.

“But I convinced the Piper boy that I could transform into a she-bear.”

He shook his head in silent laughter.

“Did you ever think that he did not believe you a skin-changer, but instead feared the lengths you would go to to be rid of him? Elmo feared you for the opposite reason. The lengths you would go to to be with him terrified him. He was never one for commitment.”

“I never knew…”

She thought back to him, to those blue river eyes that flickered to-and-fro whenever they met with hers, to that red tinge that took over his skin whenever she was near. Love, she had thought, but fear was as likely a culprit. She had always thought he avoided her to spare them both the pain when his marriage finally came to pass, and that he delayed and delayed the ceremony so one day he might break it for her. It was folly. All folly, yet now she didn’t care. After all, a childhood fancy is no basis for a marriage, least of all an unrequited one.

“I’m sorry.” Oscar flushed. “In my jealousy I speak ill of the dead. I should let him rest, let you rest.”

“I live still.”

“And yet you are a ghost that passes through mine hands. Were I but a few years older, I would have made you a fine husband.” His eyes flashed with defiance. “There is fire in me as much as that Blackwood, as much as my brother. Now to see you, to see Davos and that scar… I am haunted. That mark across his nose and the love you hold for him are some of the last things that remain of Elmo.”

“Osc…” She took his hands- they were bigger than she remembered- and laced their fingers together. “My sweet boy, you are far too young to have lost so much.”

He looked down at her, blue-green eyes bursting at the banks.

“You are chief amongst them.”

“Oscar-”

“Please, my lady.” He freed one hand and rested it upon her cheek. She did not pull away. “Just let me hold you for a moment, before I lose you forever.”

She let him fold her into his embrace, let his hands linger where they would, one on the small of her back and the other buried in her hair, let him rest his cheek atop her head. She held him tight and bit her tongue against the tears as she realised this friend, this constant from her childhood was slipping away like a trout through a fisher’s fingers.

Thanks to my lovelies @aemondslove @disillusioned-phantasma @anaviieiraaa @deepestlovert @flordiakilos @kitty2984 @kpopfanfictionfantacies @sometings @nikkilsworld @gladiatorgladiator @borislava17 @oshun22 @spider-stark @marvelenthusiast10 @itsyagirl01 @nixtape-foryou @giggles-andkicks @benijbol @darlingcharling-blog @writervaul-t @kayrakhan @unicorntrooper @frogoerson @aphroditeanadyomene @councilofcastamere for your reblogs and comments! I'm doing it for you guys :)

[sapphiressmoke]

Outlander II

Summary: She’s doesn’t know how it happened but they were calling to her to come closer. Touching it was never suppose to uproot her life and transport her somewhere she never thought she could see and witness. She has to try her best to survive if she wants to get back, right?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen X Modern!Reader

Characters mentioned: Criston Cole

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: Nothing as of now but angst, romance, smut.

A/N: So they just met! Giggling and kicking my feet. There is some symbolism in this chapter if you are able to spot it and some other things. I’m excited to see where this goes.

Previous Next Part

He found himself wandering the forest, heading in no particular direction in his mind but it seemed as if his feet were guiding him… No his heart was guiding him somewhere. Kingswood was known for being mystical, all knowing and mysterious. People entered and never came back. Is that what will happen to him? Will he disappear? His feet continued to guide him through the tall grass. The world was silent around him, peaceful for once. Was he dead? He would’ve been okay with that thought. Truly… He would no longer be in pain, he would no longer feel the need to be in competition and he wouldn’t feel the need to fight for his fathers attention.

Though it felt like he was walking for hours, it was only mere minutes. ‘Aemond, stop and look up.’ A voice spoke to him. It was… his voice? Something within him seemed to be guiding him towards a space. His heart felt like it was guiding him. He took a glance up and discovered a stone wall that sat on the top of the hill. Aemond has heard of these stones before but he knew there wasn’t much written about them despite their long history in the forest. It was The Stone of Many a Moon. The reason why there wasn’t much written on them was because well… they would disappear. It seemed as if something didn’t want them to be discovered more than they were known. ‘Go up. She’s scared.’

Scared? Who was scared and why would she be scared. He walked up the small hill, up towards the wall. He heard whimpers and sensed movement coming from along the stones, curled up in the tall, green grass. He went to place a hand on the hilt of his sword but all he was met was open space. Why would he go in the forest without protection? “Hello? I know you’re there.”

At the sound of his voice, a head perched up and he was met with wide, scared eyes. Your wide eyes stared into him and softened for a slight second. He watched at you scrambled up to your feet. You were wearing a black slip dress with a black shall. He thought that your clothing was quite weird, the way you looked was weird. When you finally stood up, you practically stumbled towards him, as if you were a baby deer learning to walk. He quickly grabbed you by your arms as you fell into him. “H-Help me! I… I don’t know where I am or how I got here.” You had tears falling down your cheek.

He had this urge to protect you, shield you from the world. He brought you into his arms and stroked your hair. Why was he doing this. “I got you, don’t worry.”

Aemond woke up in a start, a thin layer of sweat covered his skin despite the crisp morning air from outside his tent. He brought his hands up towards his face and tried rubbing the sleep away before sighing. Who was this woman? Was he suppose to know her? His heart called out for her and broke when he saw her terrified. She was beautiful. No… She was ethereal. His thoughts were cut short with the voice of his mothers sworn protector calling to him. “Good morrow, My Prince. I have been sent to come get you as the hunt will begin soon.”

“Thank you, Ser Criston. I will get ready shortly and meet everyone at the forest line.” He advised the knight. “Please get my horse ready.”

The words ‘Go up, she’s scared’ replayed in his mind. What if she was actually in the forest, surrounded by The Stone of Many a Moon, scared and alone? Just having that thought caused his chest to tighten in sorrow. He shook his head away the thoughts as he decided to get out of his bed and finally get dressed. He made his way to his clothing trunk and took out his gear. He shrugged on his black linen tunic with a matching pair of black linen pants. He grabbed his forest green cotton jacket made with padding to protect him. He grabbed his sword, belt and placed his eyepatch over his scarred eye before he exited his tent.

Upon exiting, he was met with the lady in waiting of his mother bowing to him. “Hello, My Prince. I hope you slept well. I am aware that you are on your way to the hunt but The Queen has requested me to serve you a bowl of fruits and oatmeal before you go. She does not want you to faint.” Her arms stretched out towards Aemond to hand him the bowl.

He stared at it for a quick moment before grabbing it. “Thank you. Please advise my mother that I will visit her once the hunt is over.” He heard the lady in waiting softly speak ‘Yes, My Prince.’ before he made his to the forest like whilst eating the bowl that was provided to him. He felt this pull towards the forest, a yearning to go find her. Perhaps that is why he had agreed to join the hunt. Upon arriving with the other men, he threw the empty bowl onto the floor and made his way towards the Knight. Upon taking the reign from him, he pondered. “Criston, what do you know of The Stones of Many a Moon?”

He gave the prince a look, wondering why he was being asked this question. “Not much, My Prince. In Dorne, it is said to be protected by magic, a gate to something that people are not quite sure. It is known to be on a hill in this forest but it is not quite sure where.” Ser Criston watched as Aemond climbed his horse. “Why are you asking?”

A smirk played on the one eyed princes lips. “We shall leave the hunt for the brutes, Ser Criston, we are on a journey to find this monument.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Mount your damn horse and follow me. If you must need a reason, I shall give you one… away from these damn men.” Aemond clicked, allowing his Black Mare to start the journey towards his dream.

The white cloaked knight followed swiftly behind the silver haired prince. With the prying ears away from their conversations, all formalities were dropped. “Now Aemond, please tell me why we are on this wild search.” An hour into the ride, Criston had finally broken the silence.

Still keeping this eyes forward, he explained what he had dreamed and what it has caused him to feel. “Well Criston, the past two nights I have had this dream which was surrounded by these stones. There is this woman… Her beauty is beyond this world. There is someone who urges me to go to her and save her. That someone may be myself. She is scared and alone.” He paused for a moment, waiting to see if Criston would say something. “Upon meeting each other, she falls into my arms. She is lost. All I want to do, my heart wants to do is hold her and protect her.”

“So you dragging me into a wild goose chase over a dream?” Criston scoffed. “Are you even sure she is real?”

A laugh danced on Aemonds lips. “I am as sure as my dear brother is a drunk.”

As soon as the conversation started, it quickly ended.

He couldn’t get your face out of his mind. He wanted to cradle your face in the palm of his hand and wipe your tears away. He wanted to take your fear away and tuck them away, out of sight.

‘Aemond, continue forward. You are near.’ The voice made him stop his horse and look at his surroundings. It was the first time he has heard the voice outside of his dreams. ‘Help me.’ It was your voice. “Criston, we must make haste. We are near.”

“And did the voices tell you that?”

“My Gods… Will you shut up.” Aemond laughed.

Criston pointed straight ahead. “The voices in my head say that there is a hill up there. Oh wait! They also say that you are slightly crazy!”

Before Aemond could respond with something witty, he felt a shift in the air. His eyes grazed over the land before he spotted it. He spotted the White Hart. The King of the Forest bowed towards the prince before turning around and walking back from where he came from. ‘Time travels back and is protected by the White King.’ A deep voice whispered. It was not his voice or anyone he would know. This was his chance. Before even warning his companion, Aemond sprung out of the saddle and pushed his weight down on the stirrup, applying pressure to get his horse into a full gallop. He heard his name being yelled in the background but he did not care, all he wanted to do was find you. He couldn’t help but feel free for the first time. He was doing something he wanted to do, not something of duty or how it would make his family look.

The Black Mare suddenly slowed down upon nearing a small hill, Aemond tapped his foot on the side of the horse but it refused to move, as if something was not allowing it to continue. He raised his head to look up the hill and his eyes later upon the White King once again. It was beckoning him to follow. The Stones were up there, he knew it. He dismounted his horse and ran up the hill. His heart was pounding in his chest, knocking on his rib cage, feeling like it would rip out at any moment.

Just like in his dream, he felt her presence from behind the stones, he saw the tall grass dance in the wind and he spotted her. She was curled in a ball, the grass covering her from any harm as if it were her safety blanket. He took a moment to take a deep breath before speaking, his voice shaking from anticipation. “Hello? I know you’re there. Please come out.”

At the sound of his voice, he saw a head perch up, eyes wide with fear and confusion. It truly was you. His dream could not depict your true beauty but his eyes could truly see it. You were other worldly. He watch you stumble onto your feet and run towards him, practically falling into his arms. He wrapped his arms around you, one around you waist and the other holding your head. “It’s you.” You whispered, soft as air.

“It’s me.”

Aemond looked over your shoulder to see the White Hart bow down, make a whining noise before running back into the woods.

Kingswood Night Prior

You stumbled back, hands shaking from the shift of energy that exited you “Oh Gods, what did I do?” You couldn’t help the shake in your voice. The world around you was darker, the stars brighter than before.

You backed away from the stones, wondering what your next move would be. You weren’t far from the Hotel, right? Maybe if you screamed loud enough, someone will you hear you and find you. That was the plan… Scream. “Someone! Please! I’m lost a-and I don’t know where I am!” You pulled your shall over you to protect you from the cold wind of the night, reminding you just how lonely you were. “Please! Help!” You had realized you brought your bag with you since you packed the flashlight. You begun to scramble for the bag, having no luck finding it. “Please don’t say I dropped it… Please oh Gods.”

Tears of frustration began to fall down your cheeks, you were scared and alone and you weren’t sure what your next game plan was. Talia would tell the teacher you were missing right? That’s what you told her to do. Were you stupid and decided to find your way out? Of course you were. The only way you could decide on which way to go was by doing a stupid game; you were going was you closed your eyes, pointed an arm out and spin until you got dizzy and stopped. Once you finished spinning and looked at where your arm was, that was where you were heading. “Stupid Y/N. You just had to go into the stupid forest and get lost. Now you have decided to get more lost in the forest. Fuck me.” You wiped your tears away and started carefully walking. “What if I get mulled by a bear or attacked by a boar… Gods, I’m going to die here.”

‘Y/N, go back.’

You whipped your head back, looking for the voice. “No! You are the reason I’m in this mess.” You seethed. “Maybe Talia was right. Maybe I am crazy. I’m losing it.” You tried ignoring the voice telling you to go back and continued on your route. Every couple of seconds, you would spot the silver haired man, the voices were getting all muddled together. You clutched your ears, crying “Stop!” You tried to running until you collided with a hard being. It was soft to the touch and you could just barely see that it was white under the moonlight. You took a step back and looked up and saw that before you was a beautiful White Hart. His fur was a beautiful silvery white and his eyes were two different colours, the right was a beautiful violet and the left was a deep blue, like a sapphire. It huffed a deep breath and bent down slightly to bump its snout against your shoulder, as if it was trying to push you back. You took a couple of more steps back and tried to walk around the beautiful beast but with each step you took, it blocked you. “Come on! What do you want.”

The Stag did a deep roar before pushing you back with his snout in the direction you came from. You spoke to him, as if he could understand you. “Do you want me to go back? I’m trying to find my way out of this damn forest.” It took a few seconds before the Stag did a movement that could only be described as a nod. Okay so he could understand you. “Okay! Fine I guess.” You turned around and started walking back in the direction of the stones, and you kept looking over your shoulder to see if the Stag was following you and it was. ‘Right choice, go back and wait.’ You groaned. “Oh shut up!”

On the walk back, you felt as if there was this film covering your eyes and a heavy blanket was laid over you. You felt as if you were sleep walking. The only thing allowing you to know that you weren’t yet asleep was the warmth radiating from the Hart standing behind you. The last thing you can remember was laying down in the tall grass and feeling the soft fur envelope you like a hug.

The wind blew was blowing through your hair and a laugh bubbled from between your lips. There was a tight hold around your waist to keep you from falling from the great height you were flying. “I wish I could have experienced this feeling sooner, Aemond!”

Was that the man’s name?

You felt his chin rest on your shoulder and whispered sweetly in your ear. “You can experience this feeling for the rest of your life… As long as I am alive, you shall experience this feeling, ñuha jorrāelagon.” He placed a sweet kiss just below your ear.

All you felt was freedom, peace and love.

The warmth was cradled you all night was gone and you were left feeling the cool morning wind hugging you uncomfortably. Was the whole night just a dream? You tried curling up into a tight ball to try and perverse heat. You were alone… Again? You felt the fear creep back up through your throat and all you wanted to do was cry in the ball you held yourself in. The only thing going through your mind was that you were going to die here but that solemn thoughtwas cut short when you heard the voice you had been hearing since coming to Kings Landing. “Hello? I know you’re there. Please come out.” That voice. It didn’t even take you a split second before you swung your head up from the tall grass. You felt a wave of relief wash over you as your wide eyes met with his beautiful violet eye. He was truly beautiful, as if hand crafted from the Gods above. You stumbled onto your feet, practically tripping over them, before falling into his arms. You’ve only seen this man following you like a ghost but it felt right to hold him. He felt like home. You let out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding. “It’s you.”

You felt him hold onto you for dear life, as if he had the same feeling as you. “It’s me.”

TAGLIST:

@dahlias-and-marigolds @starsdotalk @itsabby15 @red-124 @ponyosmom35 @herpersonhoagiefarm @namelesslosers @bee-unknown @dixie-elocin @heavenly1927 @stcrrjoon @noirrose21-blog @smrthxx @thenightmistress @tesha-i-guess

tag list is opened xx

I tried tagging everyone but some people could not be tagged

[theseawakes]

I really liked your teen reader moon knight story! I wanted to ask what you think the type of relationship the teen reader would hav Ewing Steven and Jake.

Thank you!!! Here's how imagine they would be

Jake:

We know Jake has the protector role so he would definitely be protective over teen!r, sometimes even much more than Marc and Steven.

He care for you despite how many times he intimidated you. He doesn't want you to be (((emotionally))) close to him seeing he is a dangerous man.

Jake was really scary at first, you first met him after he went ape shit and kill people in a mission so you had your first impressions, but as you get closer to him you realized that he isn't such a violent man he is on the outside.

He gives in to you rather more quickly than the other alters.

"Jake, can you give me a piggyback ride?"

"Aren't you a little bit too old for that?"

"But can I?"

"Sure, hop on."

Definitely sets the "no dating until you're 30" rule, but he would give you dating advices whenever he can.

"Now, Y/N, you should never date someone like that."

"Knowing you, I probably won't be able to date anyone, ever."

You asked him to teach you Spanish and he gladly accepted as his alters don't speak Spanish, which leads to you two having tons of inside jokes because neither Marc nor Steven knows what you were talking about.

He knows the best ice cream in town and would always take you there after a mission or simply a tiring day. He knows your favorite flavor and would bought you it if you weren't able to go there with him.

No one, and I mean, no one could hurt you under his watch.

Steven:

As of Steven, he would show his affection for you whenever he has the chance. He's comfortable being around you and so are you.

He would hold your hand when walking across the street, he would spend his free time with you doing whatever, he would comfort you with comforting words when you seemed down at the slightest. He's just the best.

☆☆☆ late night stargazing ☆☆☆

He has trouble sleeping and you can't sleep before it's late so you two would stay up until one of you fell asleep.

Sometimes you'd discuss a book, a movie, or poetry, anything to stay up.

You'd randomly popped up at the museum and silently judged Steven's co-workers for being rude to him, he tried to tell you that it's okay, but you never really stopped bcs Steven is too precious hashtag Steven Grant protection squad

He would buy you chips!! And chocolates!! And sandwiches!!

You once slept with your head on his lap and he's afraid to move without waking you up.

*Whispering* "Uh... Marc? What should I do?"

"Just get up."

"I can't, I'll wake them up."

*Marc sighed* "Put the pillow under their head as you do so."

"That's a good idea."

One day you almost gave Steven a heart attack when he came back to his flat and found Gus missing. A few moments later you came in with Gus inside a blender in your hand saying, "I took Gus for a walk! :D"

He'd trust you so much with Gus, you and Gus are basically siblings to him, his children that he needs to love and p r o t e c c.

Marc (bonus):

I'm gonna add Marc as a bonus because why not? (plus i think i kinda made him ooc on my last mk fic so let's count this as my attempt in characters study)

He's a jerk to everyone but you (and Layla (and Steven)).

There are times where you wanted to punch him but not even ten minutes later you two would be on good terms again.

*arguing* "I just helped you!"

"Who said I needed any help?!"

"You selfish– I hate you!"

"I hate me too, get in line."

"..."

"..."

"... are you okay?"

"No, are you?"

"Not really, can we order pizzas tonight?"

"Of course."

Marc used to be so against of having other people helping him in his business so sometimes he'd still be grumpy about you helping him, but deep down he's actually happy to have someone to count on aside from himself.

Surprisingly good at taking care of you somehow??? Like he shielded you away from his enemies well though it ended when they found out about you but still.

He's a tough guy but you have your ways to get what you want from him.

"Boo! Marc is no fun! Steven > Marc."

"Hey, take that back!"

"Nope unless you agreed to play in the arcade with me."

"... Fine, but only this one time."

He doesn't wanna look like he has a soft spot for you but he does and you teased him relentlessly for that

"Hurry up, Y/N, or I'll leave you!"

"You won't ;)"

"You're right, I won't but just be quick!"

[glimmeringtwilight]

Ruin | Yandere Dainsleif x Reader

CW: Stalking, unhealthy relationships, yandere themes, implied murder.

Word Count: 658

Dainsleif has never known a ruin quite so undoing as you. 

To be entirely fair to you, and truthful to himself, it’s not wholly you. Rather, it’s him, with you acting as the unwitting catalyst. 

You’re none the wiser to the new shadow you’ve gained. Sure, you might feel eyes on you, late at night, as you walk a little faster home than you normally do. Or you might notice the occasionally misplaced item on your nightstand, earning what’s a little longer than a passing glance as you try to figure out what’s wrong with what you’re looking at.

But it’s nothing concrete. Not yet. Nothing you can take to the Knights, nothing to make you do much more than double-checking the locks on your window every night before bed. You used to sleep with the window open, letting the wind carry the gentle ambience of sleepy Mondstadt evenings in with it. Not anymore. 

Dainsleif knows that he’s the cause of your newfound paranoia. The guilt that is brought with it eats at him, worse than his curse, cutting deeper than any knife ever could. 

The guilt eats at him, and yet…

He still finds himself sitting beneath your windowsill, pretending he can hear your soft breaths, watch the rise and fall of your chest, see the peace in your expression as you sleep– even though your back is turned to the window, and it’s too dark to see with the moon hidden behind dark clouds, anyway. 

Eventually, standing guard at your window–a self-appointed duty, if only to disguise the ugly truth of the act and soothe what little of his conscience has not yet rotted and died– isn’t enough. 

Dain moves from nights spent under the stars outside your home to nights spent standing sentinel in your home. It’s for your safety, he tells himself, a paper lie through gritted teeth, it’s for your own good. 

He never touches you, of course. But it never stops him from looking, from standing across from your sleeping form and memorizing the gentle, quiet peace that finds you in dreams. You’re like the brightest star in his sky, blazing bright and fast across the backdrop of the universe. And Dain knows better than anyone that the brightest flame burns the fastest. 

So he holds you as close as he can without holding you. Stands guard while you sleep, kills any wayward monsters that wander a little too close to you, keeps as much of the darkness at bay as he can manage despite being made of rot and pitch himself. 

You will never know your shadow, but he knows you. It’s enough.

It’s enough, he thinks, to stand guard, to protect you, to slump against the windowsill bruised and battered and know you’re safe, making the blood on his hands worth the sin he’ll never scrub them clean of. 

It’s enough, he thinks, as in a moment of weakness after hundreds of nights spent silently standing guard by your bedside, he breaks the very promise he’s sworn to himself– to you– with only the stars as his witness, and kisses the inside of your wrist. 

It’s enough. And Dainsleif knows soon it won’t be, desires sparking like hunger pains, unbidden, in his gut. 

He knows he’s damned. Knows the blood on his hands isn’t entirely for you, that if you knew the things he’s done under the guise of your protector, you’d think him a monster. 

But if he’s a monster, then so be it. Let his feet fall heavy as he returns to your bedside each night. Let you stir and see him for the monster he is, let you know your shadow. May you never forgive him for what he’s done, for what he’s yet to do. 

Dainsleif brushes a thumb over your knuckles, knelt at your bedside enraptured like he has for months now, and thinks that perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to damn you, too. 

[plethora-of-imagines]

God of Healing

AN: So this past week @how-masterful wasn't feeling well at points so I wanted to write some hurt/comfort for her to help her feel better as I always love to read sick fics when I'm not feeling well. Then the short drabble I had planned spiraled out of control and became a much larger fic.

Funny story, I have not yet watched Moon Knight.... Once again Masterful has gotten me addicted to characters from a show I have not seen. So they will all likely be out of character but I tried my best.

Word Count: 3153

Warnings: hurt/comfort, likely inaccurate depictions of DID, sick!reader, implied platonic (or romantic if you squint) relationship between Khonshu/Reader

Description: Marc and Steven return from a night as Moon Knight/Mr. Knight that didn't have their god hovering over their shoulder. They wonder what could have kept him from bothering them and find out once they return home.

"Bit odd ain't it?"

Marc didn't bother to answer Steven, it would only be a few moments before he would speak up again telling him exactly what was odd. Besides, asking him - no matter how curious Marc really was- would only encourage Steven to chip in with all sorts of observations all night. It would be a distraction. The giant bird that only he could see was already enough of a distraction every night. He didn’t need to be distracted in his own head too.

"All night we've fought, mate,” ah good, here was Steven proving Marc right once again. “Doling out his justice and all. Yet not a word from the bloody pigeon. Most nights he wouldn't leave us alone even if we begged him.... What do you think he's up to?"

"It's probably nothing. You worry too much Steven," Marc dismissed as he focused on quietly opening the flat's window.

You could be asleep and he didn't want to wake you. Why the hell was the window giving him so much trouble!  Of all things to trip up the protector of the travelers of the night- that’s a mouthful ain’t it- it had to be their own goddamn window.  Slowly dragging his hand down his face, Marc tried to release the tension that still held his body tightly wound. Tonight had been rougher than normal. He didn’t want to admit it but without Khonshu acting as an early warning system for ambushes the body had taken more of a beating than normal. Not that anything really hurt- the healing armor stopped that- but it did mean that Marc was emotionally and physically sore. He pointedly avoided looking into the window’s reflection. Steven could fuck off, he wasn’t in the mood to be teased tonight about how he should have listened to their girl. She had been begging them to take a night off for a month now.

He just. Couldn’t bring himself to take time for himself. Not when there were people to protect that deserved protection. He just knew that the moment he stopped moving he would break under your care. Oh, sure it would be healthy and good for him. But he had no idea if he would be able to recover in time to get back to protecting people like he needed to. 

Marc forced himself to focus back on the task at hand. No point having a breakdown outside of their own flat when he could silently have it while tightly gripping onto you.

One of them should oil the window soon, it was starting to stick. Ironic really. Marc has assumed that windows would only stick if they were being left unused. Moon Knight or Mr.Knight went out almost every single night. So there was no reason for the window to be giving him any trouble.

The window finally opened enough for them to get inside. Honestly, Marc couldn’t believe that they had a flat with windows big enough for them to use as a way in and out of the flat. It was convenient though. Marc refused to have you leave the door unlocked while he was out, and carrying a key would just be inviting trouble. Without the window to distract him, Marc was left alone with his thoughts about what Steven had said... 

One of the few times that Marc would have welcomed Steven’s rambling to distract himself was  of course the one time he decided to be quiet. Even though he didn’t want to admit it to Steven, he had also been a little worried about the startling absence of Khonshu. But, well it probably wasn’t anything. Steven was just being paranoid... Khonshu would end up telling the two of them if it ended up being important.

Slipping into the flat, Marc stayed light on his feet. You could be a light sleeper when you had just fallen asleep. No point stomping around and waking you before he could join you wherever you were.

"Where's our girl, Marc? She's probably still half awake, it’s cute how she always waits up for us. We need to make sure she gets some sleep though. Her poor eyes have started to get bags under them as bad as ours! Course, she would probably say she needs to stay up to make sure we get some sleep."

"Shut up Steven, I'm sure she's sleeping like a baby," he whispered back as he made sure the window was secure.

Flicking a glance across the room their eyes instantly found you in bed by glancing to see your hair spread out against the sheets. Taking less than a moment to see you were there before starting his nightly ritual. He would join you soon enough so all that mattered was that you were in bed.

It was good that you hadn't waited up for him. Well, that's what he tried to convince himself but he could feel deep inside of him some minor disappointment that you hadn't tried to stay awake to welcome him home. Shoving the feeling down guiltily, he let the suit dissolve. Vanishing around him. Ever so thankful that under the suit he wore the sweatpants and t-shirt he would be wearing to bed he walked away from you. A quick restroom stop to brush his teeth and he would be pulling you into his arms.

Marc instinctively kicked the door shut as he flicked the light on. At the very last moment, Steven took over for just a second to stop the door from slamming with their hand.

Ah, shit! That hurt! Shaking out the pain in their hand Marc scowled at the mirror. 

“Leaving the pain for me, gee thanks Steven.”

“Well it could have been avoided if you didn’t try and slam the door like a right bastard.”

Leaving the mirror cabinet open just to annoy Steven as he grabbed a toothbrush, Marc began to aggressively brush his teeth. The sooner this was done the sooner he could get some sleep. God he just needed to hold you close and breathe in your scent.

"Marc, Marc!” Steven was being an annoyance again, yelling for his attention. “Bloody hell, and you claim you're normally the more observant of the two of us! She was right, you do need more sleep."

Throwing the mirror back into place so that he could see Steven in the reflection Marc hissed in irritation at the constant badgering, "What the hell is it now Steven!"

Mentally he apologized for the angry hiss he had made at Steven. He didn't deserve that.

"Surprised you haven't noticed the dozens of medications on the sink yet, mate. I think she might be asleep in bed for once cause she's sick or somethin’..."

Toothbrush still in his mouth Marc took stock of the about 20 pill bottles across the sink and bathroom. Huh. How did he miss all of those? It was a mess in here! Sure with all of Steven’s books spread all over the place the flat was always a general mess but normally the bathroom was more tame. Steven did have a few books in the bathroom, too however. More trashy novels that didn't matter if they got wet. Heaven forbid one of his precious tomes got even a drop of rain on them.

Rushing through the rest of the body's before bed routine, Marc was buzzing with nervous energy. He needed to check on you, to stay close and keep watch over you. Nothing was allowed to harm you, not even your own body. Speculating if summoning the suit would help, Marc spat out the froth of toothpaste filling his mouth. Would the healing cape aid in ridding your sickness? You weren’t the avatar but the cape had still protected others from harm. Did being sick count as harm? 

Marc skipped the skin care routine that you had made for them. The lack of protest from Steven proved that he was just as concerned about you as he was. Normally Steven would insist on doing at least part of the skin care routine that you have so lovingly made for them. But tonight neither of them wanted to waste a moment of time that could be spent making sure you were okay.

Skidding out of the bathroom, their eyes immediately jumped to lock onto you. To ensure you were still in bed, still breathing. Why hadn’t Marc given you even just one once over before starting his nightly routine? He surely would have noticed if you were sick if he had. If anything had happened to you and he had wasted time brushing his teeth Marc was ready to yank them out himself.

The body froze as Marc and Steven processed what they were seeing.

The fucking bird was holding you. 

In. His. Arms. 

Petting your hair gently with his other hand as you struggled to breath through your nose. Khonshu’s fucking beak hovering over your head in mock protection.

"Are you fucking stealing my girl, Khonshu! Get your hands off of her!"

Marc's yell echoed through the flat, echoing in the silence. Steven winced at how loud it was. The neighbors were sure to hear if he stayed that loud and then rumors could spread, and then it would become an even bigger mess than what it already was! How would they compete with a god even if it was just the bloody pidgeon? This was it, the end of your lovely relationship. The panic was in full control now.

Steven hadn’t even noticed that he had taken over the body. Marc’s anger and desire to punch the god in his face- skull, whatever- burning in his chest.

Oh, god. Marc's yelling has woken you up. You were stirring. What would you do when you woke up? Did you know that Khonshu was holding you as you slept? Or did you think in your sleep that it was his arms around you? Steven couldn’t decide which would be worse.

"I have no desire to steal this mortal from you Marc Spector."

Oh, well that was good. No need to compete with the god of the moon for you then. That was a minor relief. Wait-

"Oi! The way you said that implies that you would steal her from me but not Marc!"

Khonshu groaned the moment Steven spoke. Rude of him! And here he thought that the grumpy god had finally warmed up to him, began to accept him as another avatar.

“What are you doing then you big bird?” Now that he had been reassured that your relationship was safe, Steven felt confident enough to bully the god a little bit. “I can’t really think of a reason for you to be feeling up our girl when she’s unconscious. Can you Marc? Seems a bit inappropriate if you ask me.”

"Steven," you croaked out.

Oh, right. You had woken up. Maybe should prioritize that over annoying the bird. Gosh, your voice sounded all rough and scratchy. It has to be aching. You would definitely benefit from a nice, warm cup of tea. Maybe some soup. They should have something suitable in the flat to soothe your throat.

Lurching out of Khonshu’s grasp, you reached out for him. Oh, you were just lovely. Steven didn’t exactly want to get sick but he was determined to cuddle you. Just as he was stepping towards you to take you into his arms Khonshu flicked out his staff.

The crescent moon grabbing hold of you like a lasso and throwing you back into the god’s arms. The staff was dismissed as soon as it had been summoned. Khonshu keeping a tighter grip on your body as he forced you to rest back against his chest again.

“What the fuck does he think he is doing to them,” Marc screamed in his ear.

“You are to stay put, little priestess,” the rumbling growl of his stern voice was making you tremble. You had the most upset and sorrowful look on your face. Like you knew that you had done something wrong but hadn’t meant to. “Or I will make use of the bug’s restraints to keep you here.”

That threat was the last straw for keeping Marc from fronting. He would protect you no matter what it cost.

"If she wants to leave your grasp and come to me you better let go of her, Khonshu," Marc threatened.

Inside Steven was panicking about how they could possibly get you safely away from the god. You had wanted to come to them and he had stopped you. You weren’t safe and you were sick, this was officially the nightmare scenario. How could they protect you against a god without Khonshu’s suit, without his help? Oh god, they had never thought to come up with a plan for this. Even with Marc’s protective paranoia tendencies to plan for any danger that could threaten you he had never even considered their god turning against them!

"Hmm is that anyway to thank me, my avatar, for keeping her sickness diminished. Without my aid by now she would surely be in one of those inadequate human hospitals. If she had managed to survive long enough to call for such aid..."

"WhAt," Marc and Steven both stumbled over each other to speak. The word barely comprehensible with the vocal breaks as their accent rapidly changed.

Frozen they both mentally retreated to talk to the other. They needed to think this through, to not rush into assumptions. To consider all the facts they had and plan their next action if any were even needed.

Steven came to the conclusion first.

"Oh, bloody hell. Marc, he's the god of healing too. He's saved her life when we didn't even notice she was ill! This is why he left us alone all night, he’s been healing her. Oh bollocks, we’re bloody awful boyfriends aren’t we..."

“Do you need to be holding her to heal her?”

Marc was still a bit on edge, but now he could admit his curiosity.

“Yes. She is not my avatar, close contact is the best way to eradicate her sickness. I cannot have my most devout worshiper fall to illness due to her refusal to pray for her own health.”

“Devout worshiper? But she doesn’t even pray...” Steven mumbled.

“She has called upon me to protect you enough times to be considered a priestess of my temple.”

Marc could feel his chest aching. A tightness making him want nothing more than to assure you that he would keep himself and Steven safe. Just for your sake.

Sniffling you managed to get out a few words. “I want our Marc and my Steven, Khonshu.” 

There were tears on your cheeks. You had been crying silently while they bickered over meaningless things...

“Your Steven,” the god teased. “I do believe that they are both my Moon Knight, little priestess.”

Khonshu was... oddly affectionate with you. And far nicer to you than he was Marc or Steven. Well, not that he could blame the god for growing fond of you. Even Marc could admit it was impossible to avoid the desire to please you, to protect you. He had tried to keep Steven and himself away from you for so long to no avail. You drew them in to orbit you, as the moon does the Earth.

“You’re too mean to Steven so he’s all mine,” you muttered in a sleepy haze. “M’ gonna take Marc from you too if you don’t start being nicer to him so you better watch out.”

Marc chuckled at your empty threat.

“Hmm, then I shall have to keep a close eye on you, little one. I cannot have a priestess of mine stealing from me, after all. Perhaps I shall give the tireless task of keeping you out of mischief to my Moon Knight.”

Slowly making his way to the bed, both boys realized the issue at the same time. They wanted-no needed to hold you. But to do that while Khonshu was healing you would force them to lay practically in the god’s lap.

The moment they were in reach you extended your hands out with the most adorable grabby motions. Silently begging them to cuddle you close. 

Steven gave in first while Marc was still debating how to hold you without touching Khonshu.

“Steven, no. Please, just- no.”

“Mate, if there was a way to do this that wasn’t bloody ridiculous I am more than willing to move. But I am not about to risk that sad little face she likes to give us to get her way while we debate on how to avoid touching the almost 2 meter tall vulture that needs to be touching her.”

Admitting defeat Marc let Steven shuffle the body closer to yours. Keeping as much skin contact as possible with you while maintaining as little contact between them and Khonshu. Marc mentally sighed when you purposely sniffled to show that you knew it was just Steven who had moved the body to lay against yours. He pressed a kiss to your forehead to indulge you. The happy little squirm against him was worth any embarrassment that the situation gave them.

Laying in silence as he rubbed circles against your skin until you fell back asleep. Trying his damn hardest to ignore the giant mummified bird in the room.

"Well this is awkward, innit?"

"Steven please," Marc begged. "I'm trying very hard not to think about how while cuddling our sick girlfriend we basically have to cuddle Khonshu too!"

"Bit too late for that now..." he trailed off with a nervous laugh.

Marc purposely avoided looking at Khonshu. Or any mirrors. Finally settling his wandering eyes on your peaceful face. He could suffer the discomfort of being pressed slightly against Khonshu’s body, for you.

“We never talk about this. Ever.”

“Agreed,” Khonshu was quick to answer. Seems the god found this as unsettling as he did. 

If it wouldn’t involve bringing this situation up, Marc would pester the god about how he seemed to have no awkward feelings about cuddling his girlfriend. But he just knew that Khonshu would get his revenge by distracting him during his time as Moon Knight by mentioning that he was also the god of fertility. Steven was already going to be enough of a mess worrying over being Khonshu’s avatar and you apparently being considered a priestess by the god making the both of you more fertile, now that the idea was there...

Silently they both agreed to push the thought from their minds for now. They could freak out together later.

At least you were soundly sleeping. And your nose was less stuffy, so Khonshu’s healing was helping. With any luck- which god were they due for some good luck- you would be better by tomorrow and this bizarre cuddle pile wouldn’t be needed again.

[fuck-goes-on]

Palpitation

pairing/s: marc spector x reader, steven grant & reader, moon knight & reader, mr. knight & reader, jake lockley & reader

summary: the first time marc sees you, he gives the body palpitations

warning/s: PALPITATIONS HOW CAN I MAKE IT CLEARER, fluff, hurt/comfort?, DID (persecutor protectors), NO POWERS, marc WAS an asshole but now isnt, steven is the host/original personality, he/they pronouns for steven grant

note/s: somewhat continuation of "Numerous"!!! so go read that first!!! howEVER, do not read if you are triggered by PALPITATIONS 💀👀

masterlist || navigation

Marc started out as a persecutor protector, someone who preyed on Steven's fears and constantly threatened them to stay inside and never go out because the world would undeniably hurt him. He was snappy and angry all the time; Angry at the world and at their abusers, angry that Steven was so helpless and needed so much support, angry that Marc had to take the brunt of their trauma.

Now, however, after many therapy sessions and long system talks with everyone, Marc lived as a protector for Steven. Someone who actually kept what mattered the most safe, and that was Steven. Someone who could be trusted and welcomed, instead of feared. And that changed how Marc looked at himself.

He was actually happy.

Marc wasn't thrilled with the idea that somebody was getting close to Steven.

When he found out about you, he ranted to their primary protector, Moon Knight, about how dangerous it could be and how eventually you were gonna hurt them. But Moon calmed him down, telling him that no matter what happened, what was important was that they were all going to be there for Steven. Marc wasn't satisfied with that answer, but he couldn't argue anymore that he already had.

So when you and Steven went out for the nth time to hang out, Marc was co-conscious with Steven. He was at the back of their brain, silently watching everything and observing the people around them. He was a trained mercenary, and his primary mission was to protect Steven.

Yet as you called out to Steven and walked towards them, Marc felt dizzy. You were Steven's friend? That absolute magnificent, gorgeous and stunning human being?

The body's heart started to beat fast and hard, feeling it jump in the throat and making the head fuzzy. It skipped a beat and made the body grunt out and stumble back.

You, considerate friend you are, caught him before they could crash backwards. You guided them to sit down on a nearby bench, rubbing and patting their head as they tried to breathe in and out.

What the fuck?

Shit shit shit shit—

"Steven? Are you okay?" You asked Marc— Steven? No, Marc— and kneeled down right in front of him. He could only nod in agreement as relief took over the body, the heart finally calming down as he rested.

What is going on here?

Marc?

I-I don't know—

Marc ignored the questions thrown to him in his head by the others, more enchanted by how you looked with your pretty white polka-dot green shirt and your sunflower embroidered jeans. You looked immaculate in his eyes.

However, his daydreaming was interrupted with your hand waving over his face, checking if he was still out of it or not. So Marc put on his best Steven impression on and hoped he could fool you until he could switch out with them.

"Wha?" Marc feigned confusion and looked around before setting his eyes on you. You sighed in relief and gave him a big smile, getting up from your kneeling position and sitting next to him.

Your hand rested on his arm as you ask again, "Are you okay, Steven?"

"Hm, yes, no, I'm... I'm okay." Marc gave his best goofy smile and patted your hand.

"Do you want to go to the cafe nearby? Be in the air conditioning and cool down from the heat?" Your voice was soft and gentle, carefully helping him stand, even though Marc knew he didn't need it.

"That sounds wonderful, love."

[halfmoonshines]

Heyy if you're still taking prompts

You can be angry at me all you want. I'm doing this to protect you

You pretended to love me and, like an idiot, I believed you

Angsty angst with Jake pls

<3

love you nonny

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader

Summary; Sometimes Jake didn't understand what was right

You don't know how it had come to this, the tears wetting your cheeks while Jake stood across from you - mouth firm and eyes devoid of emotion.

Though, maybe you did know.

His hesitancy had started the first day you got injured while he was on a mission. It wasn’t even anything directly related to him, just a mugging in a shady alley on your nightly walk home from work. Typically, Jake would walk with you - his Moon Knight armor shining in the pale light, but he was out of town that day.

When he did arrive home the next morning, before the birds had even had a chance to being singing their song - he was confused why you were in the shower at such an early hour.

You hadn’t locked the door to the bathroom for two reasons. You didn’t expect him home so early, and you were so exhausted by the time you made it home from the police station - the only tangible thought you had was to get in the shower and cleanse this shitty night from you.

When Jake entered the bathroom almost silently, pulling open the shower curtain and finding you nearly bent over double with small sobs - he felt like his heart had been crushed under a truck.

He was quick to enter, fully clothed, and pulled your shaking frame to him. He let you release your emotions for as long as you needed and helped you dry off after, following you to the couch.

When you’d explained what happened both the mugging and blossoming bruise on your cheek made his mouth run dry. He apologized profusely for not being home, not listening to any of your insistence that it wasn’t his fault.

You didn’t speak about it again after that day, but you knew that he blamed himself. Jake was a protector, and he felt like he failed.

The next time your life had been in danger; it was actually involving Jake. An enemy handled incorrectly, a loose end not tied and you ended up tied up yourself, in some dank warehouse with a gag in your mouth.

Jake had found you eventually, but not before there was enough time to leave scars not only on your body but your mind. You tried to speak to Jake, let him know that you didn’t blame him for what had happened. As far as you were concerned, Jake was a hero. Avenging the innocent. He liked to make play that he enjoyed what he did, and it was true in a way. But he didn’t enjoy the blood, he enjoyed the righteous feeling of doing the right thing. You could never be upset that some bad person decided they didn’t like his mission.

The dark haired man had insisted that you would both simply move past these, albeit he refused to let his eyes off of you for a few weeks.

It was little things after that. Him subtly saying he didn’t think he could ever have kids. Mentioning how marriage was more than likely out of the picture. Every little stake plunged in the Earth to mark the area of what Jake thought was possible or not, you began to question just which side you were on.

A logical part of you knew that he was doing this on purpose, guilt and love mixing into a deadly cocktail. The passionate part didn’t care though, he was breaking your heart.

“You pretended to love me, and like an idiot - I believed you. How can you do this to me?” You demanded, eyes flicking between his own and the suitcase clutched in his hand. His way of saying goodbye.

“You can be angry at me all you want, I’m doing this to protect you.” Jake’s reply was simple, he turned on his heel and headed toward the door.

“If you leave here, don’t ever come back. Do you understand?”

You watched your boyfriend pause for just a moment, head titled minutely to the side before he resumed his exit. No words uttered, no over shoulder looks, he was simply gone with the echoing click of the door.

did you enjoy this? please show this post some love!

[thetaoofzoe]

Fic: Midnight in the Desert 1/1

Title: Midnight in the Desert

Summary: Coffee + tiny bladder + long motorcycle ride = the best sex of your life

Rating: Smut, fluff, fun sexy times. My usual fare, you know what’s up. 

Pairing: Captain ‘Sy’ Syverson x YOU (AU)

Companion piece to The Road to Paloma  

‘I have to pee!’ 

You leaned against Syverson’s broad back and shouted at him above the roar of the bike’s engine. 

He turned his cheek against the wind. 

‘What?!’ he shouted back. ‘Again?? We just stopped an hour ago.’ 

‘I got a tiny bladder!’ you laughed as he decreased the bike speed. 

It was easier to talk now that the warm night air had stopped whipping away your words. You nuzzled fondly against his shoulder and eased your hands down over his belt buckle. 

‘There ain’t a place for miles,’ he said and lay his hand over your hands. ‘Can you hold it?��

You thought a moment and although that second cup of truckstop hazelnut coffee was a surprising delight to the senses, it was a mistake currently wreaking havoc on your bladder. 

‘I cannot. Nope, not in the least,’ you replied and left it up to your problem solving husband to figure it out.  

Up ahead on that long black stretch of barren backcountry Arizona road stood a high-mast sodium light which cast a broad oval of yellowy illumination across the road.  Syverson slowed the bike even more and drew close to the tall wood pole. You peered up at the ring of industrial bulbs and then down at the shadowy dirt area just at the rim of bright light. 

When he shut off the engine the world plunged into a kind of silence that only an evening on an empty road in the middle of a desert could create. Nothing but crickets, and the occasional nocturnal animal cry. You liked it. 

Syverson kicked the bike onto the stand and let the machine ease to one side. He got off it and turned to face you as he thumbed through his mobile. 

‘No signal,’ he grumped and then pointed to the saddle bag near your thigh. ‘Get out the map. Let’s take a look.’ 

You did as you were told. He always kept a big book of state maps in the bag for when the online maps failed. You paged through it, landed on the appropriate state and after a quick skimming search, you put a finger on a thin jagged red line. 

‘Highway 373,’ he said, looking down the length of your finger and rubbing his hand over his beard. ‘Yeah, see? Town’s at least another 60 miles.’

With your finger still on the map, you looked up at him and pouted. Syverson smiled fondly and used the tip of his index finger to push up your helmet visor so that he could see your eyes. He stroked the edge of his thumb back and forth against your cheek. 

‘Sure you can’t hold it?’ he asked in a tone that said come on baby you can do it.

But you shook your head and unstrapped your helmet. He removed his own in response. Might as well get comfortable.  

Handing yours to him, you rummaged about in your rucksack and made a noise of triumph when your fingers closed about a small plastic baggie. You pulled it out and held it up. 

One of the most valuable tips that you learned from women who were constantly on the road was that a ‘fuddy’ or a female urination device was a godsend and a life saver.  

Yours was pink. 

‘Looks like your girl is gonna have to make do,’ you said and groaned as your bladder protested the exertion when he helped you climb off of the bike. 

‘Awright,’ he said.  ‘Don’t accidentally piss on anything that I’m gonna have to fight, okay?’

‘Always my knight in shining armour, Sy,’ you called over your shoulder walking to the edge where the darkness met the light. 

He laughed and sat with his rear against the seat, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

‘Just do it where I can see you,’ he said. 

You stepped across that hard bright line and into the pale darkness.  

It seemed cooler there for some reason and you strained to look into the distance. The moon had gone in behind grey streaky clouds and backlit the jagged mountain range in the distance. You glanced back at the man leaning against the bike. He was still aware and watching and that comforted you. 

Always your protector.

Unzipping your loose heavy canvas trousers, you pressed the rubbery funnel into place and relieved yourself into the dirt. 

As the pressure subsided, your mood lifted and the thought of maybe another coffee didn’t sound so bad. Drying yourself and the funnel with a little bogroll, you tucked everything back into the baggie, righted your clothes and returned to the bike. 

Syverson’s keen gaze skimmed over you. 

‘Better?’ he teased.

You stored your bag into the rucksack  and stood back to look fully at him. 

‘You’re turning into a grizzly, you know that?’ you asked fondly, reaching up to run your fingers over his beard and then up over his jaw and to the back of his neck. 

‘I thought you liked me like this,’ he replied in his easy joking manner. 

He caught his thick facial hair between his thumb and forefinger and gave himself  a thoughtful stroke. You smiled and reached up to gently caress the back of his well shaped head with both hands. His eyes softened immediately and a knowing look crept into his warm gaze. 

‘What are you tryin’ to do?’ he asked. 

There was that soft, gentle laughter in his voice that you loved so much. It was the sound that had come to mean that he was settling in to play your game.  

You caught the corner of your lower lip between your teeth and looking away you lifted one shoulder in a shrug. 

‘What?’ you asked innocently, ‘I’m not doing anything.’ 

Syverson hooked his thumbs into the side belt loops of your trousers. He drew you closer but when you resisted he shot you a quizzical expression.

No play? asked that expression. 

He looked nearly betrayed that you would deny him access to the trouble he so dearly wanted to get into. He wanted to get into you.  

You moved a few steps away and when you held his full and undivided attention, you unzipped your trousers. With an insolent pause to gauge his reaction, which was immediate and intense, you shimmied, let them drop and then stepped out of them.  You wore his long tee shirt, and when the trousers dropped, the hem of it fell against your bare upper thighs, covering you. 

Syverson made a low, greedy noise in his throat. He grabbed you by the waist and in a smooth motion, he straddled the bike’s seat, and swung you effortlessly into the air before planting you firmly astride his lap with a solid thump.

You felt him move against you as he shifted in the seat and the tough material stretched taut across his muscular thighs scraped along the tender flesh of your inner thighs. A pleasurable shiver rushed through you and you put your hands flat on his heaving chest. Sy wet his lips and looked up at you. There was want and heat and desire in his blue eyes and your lips curved into a delighted smirk. 

This man, this beast of a man was yours and yours alone to do with whatever you pleased. 

‘I’ve never met a woman who was so exciting,’ he groaned, voice quiet, as if he didn’t want to break the spell you’d woven over him. 

You took the compliment in stride. Leaning in, you opened his mouth with your tongue and slid your hand down to his belt buckle. When you drew back, he looked down the length of torso and watched in breathless panting silence as you unbuckled his trousers and eased out his stiffening cock. You glanced at him, noting the colour rising high in his cheeks as he shuddered, put his head back and moaned. 

He slid up the lower edge of your tee shirt and massaged your bottom rhythmically, eagerly as you stroked him once, then again, curving your fingers around his thick girth and teasing his glistening head with your thumb. 

‘Yeah, baby. Good girl. Just like that,’ he groaned. ‘Oh, yeah, you know what I like.’ 

You warmed with the pleasure at being praised by him.

And gleefully, you twisted your slick fist and he arched, and tightened his grip on your hips. 

‘C’mon baby, c’mon… you’re teasing me.’ 

I love to tease you baby, I love how you respond to me. 

With his big hands supporting you,  you rose to your knees opening yourself to him and you whispered his name when he undulated and pushed up into your sweet quivering heat. 

As usual, you were unprepared for him, unprepared for the size of him. But you relaxed, closed your eyes, and clenched when his cock slowly stretched you to fit him. 

Between his competent, loving hands, Syverson held you still and lifted his face so that you could kiss him, softly, gently, as if the two of you were hidden away in your bedroom, and not fucking like unrestrained lusty beasts by the side of a silent desert highway. 

Sy thrust up hard into you, laying claim to you from the inside and an unnamed feral fire seared through you. You arched, sucked in a breath and your intentions of keeping quiet were obliterated. The throaty cry that erupted from you started but did not shame you. 

A roll of your hips elicited the same response from him and you hissed with pain when he dug his fingers into your vulnerable flesh. But he soothed you with warm honeyed kisses and the promise of ever increasing delights. You clenched your thighs about him and Sy encouraged you to ride him harder and faster until you couldn’t withstand the plunging shudder that rocked you. Safe in the strength of his embrace, you surrendered to him, clutched at him and shuddered through the white-hot scalding gush of lust and molten fire through your veins. 

Syverson held you against him until you finally stilled and draped yourself over him to cover his face with kisses. 

After cleaning up and dressing, you settled yourself behind him again, wrapped your arms about his waist and rested your cheek against his shoulder. You gasped when the engine roared to life as the sudden vibrations shook you intimately and the sensations made you smile. 

‘You ready?’ he asked, breaking you out of your muse. 

You squeezed him. 

‘Ready.’

A hotel room, a hot shower and another round were in order along with some downtime to rest. There was a secondary reason why you had to pee so much. Your husband was going to be a father.

-the end, you naughty little things. I love you ;D

Tag list:  @lightsidecalling​  @omgkatinka​ @igotkatiepowers​ @the-soot-sprite​  @harrysthiccthighss​ @little-green-love​ @foxyjwls007​  @angreav​ @maizyistrash @liquorlaughslove @supernaturallymarvellous​ @whiskey-cokenstuff @laketaj24​ @october505​ @inlovewithhisblueeyes​ @foodieforthoughts​ @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @singeramg​ @sapphirescrolls​  @emyearns​ @brandycranby​ @zealoushound​ @eldarwen333​ @beck07990​ @lunedelorient​ @henrythickcavill​ @kalesrebellion​​ @angrythingstarlight​​ @lavitabella87

[jimlingss]

Moirai [Finale]

Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 [Finale]

➜ Words: 8.6k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

You don’t know why you were so afraid of dying.   It happened once before. You didn’t even have time to prepare yourself.   Maybe you were so petrified because you were left feeling an empty void inside of yourself last time. You never got the chance to fulfill your dreams, enjoy the fruits of your labour, never got to reach the happiness you wanted. You were filled with numerous regrets. Not for the things you did. But for the things you didn’t do.   But strangely enough, for the second time, you don’t feel such sadness.   Perhaps because your death this time has purpose. Perhaps because you know it wasn’t wasted. Taehyung gets to live, he’s safe and that in itself is worth sacrificing for. You wonder if this is what love feels like.   For being so afraid of dying in this lifetime, there was not an inch of hesitation when you risked it again.   “Anastasia.”   But you aren’t dead. Just on your deathbed.   You can hear Lucy sobbing beside you. She’s noisy, practically giving you a headache, but truthfully, your heart aches to hear her. Until the very end, she proves to be one of the most sincere people in all of Ashea.   “Please...please, wake up.”   It’s hard to open your eyes. Your left shoulder aches terribly and you feel feverish but chilly at the same time. Even with the heaviest blanket overtop of you, you can’t help shivering. You wonder if your wound was infected. If you caught something else. If you’ll make a recovery.   It’s hard to lay and rest peacefully when you know someone’s made an assassination attempt on Taehyung. It might happen again. It might happen when you’re laying here. But even so, perhaps your connection to Taehyung will save him. This darkness inside of you just might consume his injuries and hand it to you instead. If so, you’ll readily lend your life to him again.    It’s your destiny as his protector. You don’t mind.   “Lucy...you should rest.”   You can vaguely hear Jungkook’s voice and you force your eyes to open a sliver. Their figures are blurry.   “No. I want to stay here a little longer.” Her voice is firm, no longer as timid as it used to be.   But Jungkook still coaxes her otherwise. “You haven’t slept and the Duke and Duchess have come. They’re waiting outside. We can watch over her.”   You watch as their forms fade away, Jungkook guiding the girl out. Soon, your mother and father are entering the room, steps slow, their voices kept quiet. Your vision starts to sharpen and the bed dips as your mother sits next to you, her expression impassive while she takes your hand.   She realizes you’re awake when your fingers twitch and her head whips over to you. “Anastasia. Anastasia,” she calls again and lowers herself to whisper, “You can make it through this.”   Your eyes manage to open and your cracked lips move— “I’m sorry.”   Her blank visage is ruined by the slight furrow of her brows. “What for?”   “I can’t be the crown princess.” The words are mumbled out of you, barely steady on a single breath.   “You still can.”   “No.” You weakly shake your head. “Even if I live, I...can’t.”   “I’m...sorr...y.” The sincere apology utters off from your lips — they’re your dying words.   You’ve never apologized to them in your life. You never felt the need to apologize to anyone aside from Taehyung. But marrying Jungkook, keeping the family safe, it’s all they ever wanted from you. Yet, you can’t fulfill their only wish.   “Anastasia.” There’s a rough tug at your arm and you wince. Your mother’s eyes are wide, mouth lopsided, she looks...frantic. It’s the first time her impassivity has been spoiled. “Get up. Get yourself back together. It would be worthless if you die here. Everything you’ve worked so hard for will go to waste. I’ll be angry if you keep talking about giving up. Get up right now!”   She doesn’t accept the apology. She doesn’t acknowledge it.   “Elanor.” Your father grabs your mother’s shoulders, pulling her away from trying to tug you upright. “Elanor! Stop it. Calm down.”   “She was sick so many times before as a child and she still lived! She’ll live here too, Herrick.” She whirls around and seizes your father’s collar in tight fists, but then sobs break through her figure. “Stop acting like our daughter is dying!”   “I know, I know.” He embraces her. “But if we want her to live, she has to rest. Remember what the healers said?”   Your mother nods into his shoulder and your father stares at you.   There’s not enough strength in you to stay conscious, so you black out against your will moments later. But you swear you feel him squeeze your hand before he leaves.   //   Taehyung cracks open the door fifteen minutes after three. The hallway is shrouded in darkness with only a tiny sliver of the moon’s luminescence that will wane away tomorrow. His breath was hitched and only with no one in sight was he able to slip into the shadows.    He feels like a child again, having to lurk in the castle’s corridors. But he had to see you.   Taehyung comes to your bedside where you’re fast asleep. His left hand grips the arrow that had pierced into your flesh, hard enough that his knuckles turn white, that his entire fist shakes.    The silver tip is decorated with loops and ornate designs. He stared at it long enough that the pattern is embedded beneath his eyelids. But for now, he sets the arrow down on your bedside and lifts his hand to hover over your body.   Taehyung frowns. He recognizes the dark magic over your soul.    He should've seen it, should’ve tried to use his magic to detect it when he had the chance. Not now when it was too late. When it’s suddenly so obvious. The magic spills out of your skin when Taehyung beckons it forward, consuming the room into pitch blackness that chokes him. It’s as if your soul has been encased in it, so thick that he doesn’t know where the magic ends or begins.    Taehyung tries to break it, to shatter the magic apart and dissipate the shards. But when he touches it, there’s a spark. A golden trace, like lightning on a stormy day. He sharply inhales as it stings him and he notices your brows furrow.   The man quickly seals the dark magic up again. He wonders who did this to you.   His right hand tightens on the pink handkerchief frayed at the edges. He kept it all of this time. There just hasn’t been the right moment to give it back to you yet. But he knows they’ll be a day.   He’s counting on it.   Taehyung murmurs an incantation underneath his breath, a healing spell that has your expression easing again. A soft breath escapes the seam of your lips as if you’re soothed from pain.   “I’m sorry.”   You hear what sounds like Taehyung’s voice inside your head.    He has nothing to apologize for. You’re the one who did him wrong, who pushed him away, who made him out as someone to be feared — you saw him as the villain before he even became one.   But when you awake, there’s no one there.   //    The next morning, you start to feel better again.   Your body feels less like a heavy cage against the mattress. Your shoulder doesn’t ache with each movement and your fever has faded away. In the following days, the healers are taken aback at the change but start to become more optimistic, and Lucy smiles with tears in her eyes to see you conscious. You’re well enough to at least be able to sit up too.   “Has anyone visited me?” you ask a maid who’s come by to replace your clothes.    But the young girl shakes her head. “Is there someone you want to see, Lady Anastasia?”   “No…”   As if you were speaking of the devil, another attendant enters the room. “Lady Anastasia, there’s someone here…”   The corner of your mouth upturns and you immediately lean forward. But instead of the person you were hoping for, it’s dark-hair and doe eyes.   Jungkook smiles and the two girls leave a beat later, giving the pair of you some privacy. He knows you well enough over the years to see your disappointment. “Were you expecting someone else?”   “Of course not,” you scoff, leaning against the headboard.   “I’m glad to see you better enough to mouth off again.” Jungkook grins and takes his seat on the chair beside you. “But there’s something we should talk about, Anna.”   “What is it?”   “The engagement ball is coming up.”   You stay silent.   “The advisors think we should do ahead with the engagement after this incident. There’s some suspicion this had something to do with you being kidnapped and there’s an investigation going on, but the advisors think it’ll be reflected poorly if the royal family doesn’t take responsibility for your injuries.”   There’s a pause. A quiet simmer. The corner of his mouth quirks gingerly.   “Surprisingly, the Duke and Duchess haven’t said anything about it.”   You burst out laughing. “For once.”   Jungkook’s smile is short lived. He inhales a deep breath and hesitates. You’ve never seen Jungkook so careful in choosing his words before, but you have a feeling of what he wants to say. “Anna. I care about you, I do. You’ve been a friend since we were children. But I don’t think I can go through with this marriag—”   “Stop,” you interrupt and he looks up. Your eyes meet and you smile, taking his hand. “I’ve always said I wouldn’t stop you, Jungkook.”   He nods and whispers, “Thank you.”   You hold hands, smiling at him. “You’ll always be a close friend of mine.”   No matter what path this universe goes down, Anastasia never ends up with Jungkook.    And Y/N doesn’t either.   It’s impossible when you have someone else who can beckon your heart with a simple gaze.

Half across the castle, Taehyung enters the throne room.   It’s decorated with a red carpet, chandeliers, and a throne at the end that sits above all, looking down at the rest. It’s imposing as it is grand. But before he can come closer, the knights refuse him. Their partisan weapons block his way, a criss-cross that doesn’t give him an inch to move.   “Let me speak to the King.”   “The King is occupied,” one of them states plainly.   “Let me speak to him,” Taehyung raises his voice and steps closer.   The old man on the throne hears the ruckus. His ears perk and his attention is taken. His deep timbre bellows down the hall— “Let him through.”   Only then at his allowance is Taehyung able to walk down the carpet. His strides don’t halt until he’s at the bottom of the staircase.    The King doesn’t wear an expression, but Taehyung knows there’s quiet disdain underneath it. A reserved contempt that he tries to mask for appearance sakes.    He made the same face at his mother’s funeral.   “What have you come here for?”   Taehyung throws down the arrow in front of him, the arrow still stained with your blood.   The King’s brow quirks. “What is the meaning of this?”   “Someone who doesn’t know magic wouldn’t be able to see that this is striking silver. It’s material only used by the palace’s arrows.”   “It must’ve been stolen.”   “But I found them,” he quiets. “I found the person who fired the shot and I fed them a truth serum and they confessed to me.” Taehyung lifts his head and steps closer to the throne. “You did this, didn’t you?”   The deep timbre of Taehyung’s voice resounds through the hall. The scowl he holds carries a deeply rooted loathing he didn’t know he had within him. “You tried to kill your own son.”   “How dare you try to accuse the royal King!” His fist bangs against the armrest and it rings in Taehyung’s ears. His face is twisted in appalment, the shout that tears through his throat is spat out. “You would rather believe a servant than the King?!”   “Why do you lie to me?”   He is used to their scorn, their contempt and hatred. Taehyung knows. He has endured this treatment for a lifetime, since the moment he took his first breath. But when it comes to you…   When it comes to you, Taehyung can shut his eyes and still see the moment you took the arrow for him. The arrow inflicted by his own father. It’s been burnt to memory — your expression, your words, the blood that poured from the gaps of his fingertips. It’s been seared to mind.   He was the one who put you in harm’s way when he swore to himself he would never ever let that happen. He vowed that he wouldn't see you until he became strong enough.   So he stands his ground. Not for his own pride, dignity or his injustices.    But for you. A reason that is greater to Taehyung than all other reasons.   “You let my mother die and now you’re trying to kill me—”   “Silence! You dare stand there and accuse me.” The King abruptly rises to his feet, pointing down at him with a shaking hand. His face is reddened at these allegations, a reaction so tense it can only prove to be true. “You are nothing but an orphan boy! I don’t have a son like you! Guards!”   Three knights storm through the throne room. “Arrest him for treason!”   The King has commanded the castle at his will, marionette dolls without even needing to tug the strings. As easy as ringing a bell. Or calling a dog.    They have always had it easy. A life of luxury that knows no suffering. The deeper the blue shade of blood, the stronger the status. As if heroes are born instead of having their title earned.   “Why?”   The guards are three steps away, armours clanking, hands outstretched. But darkness sweeps from Taehyung’s shadow and consumes the room, bleeding throughout. He’s not sure where it comes from, doesn’t pay mind to recognize that it’s your dark magic lent to him, but it pours out of his skin, thick enough to choke on.   “Why?!” Taehyung shouts from the pit of his stomach, past his gritted teeth. He demands to know, he aches for answers. If all this pain is because of his dirtied birthright — the only thing he couldn’t control and perhaps the only reason he isn’t loved. “Why did you do this?!”   “Guards!” The King manages to call out in the midst of his wheeze and they finally get to Taehyung, hands snatching his arms, ripping them from their sockets. The darkness dissipates. “You dare use magic against the King?!”   “Is it because I threatened your favourite’s son’s position?! Is it because of Jungkook?!”   Taehyung thrashes against the guards. He was a mistake manifested, a reminder of the errors of the King’s ways. His existence taints the pristine reputation of the royal family. But why—   “Why did you do this to her?! Why did you get Anastasia involved?! She's innocent!”   “That girl will never be yours,” the man spits from his place by the throne, mocking his audacity to covet his brother’s fiancée. “And if you dare to use magic against me one more time, then I’ll make your wish come true. She will be killed next to you.”   His jaw clenches. Wrath seethes beneath his skin.   The guards yank at him. “Move!”   The grand doors slam shut.   //   Something is wrong.   You can feel it — you’re cold, chest aching, experiencing dizzy spells. But it’s not from the wound in your shoulder that’s already closing. You haven’t felt this way since you were young and you were bedridden without explanation. You can only hope it passes quickly like it did then.   But the maid notices you pressing against the left side of your chest.   “My lady?”   You look into the vanity mirror where the young girl stares at you worriedly. “Are you alright? Prince Jungkook already told us that if you weren’t feeling well, you don’t have to attend the ball.”   You wave her off. “It’s fine.”   She hesitates but then nods, swiftly brushing out your hair to pin half of it up. You’re dressed in a gray gown, a simple ensemble with white flowers decorated sporadically through your hair as if you sat beneath a blossom tree. You’re glad you don’t look sick on the outside.   You’re tired of being cooped up inside of your room all day. Laying in bed is only so much fun after two weeks in a row. Not to mention, tonight is important. Jungkook will be making the announcement of dissolving your engagement. It’s the whole reason a ball was set up in the first place. There’s no better time to do it than in public — that way no advisor or even the King will be able to stop him.    But most of all, you’re afraid if you don’t leave, you won’t be able to see him.   He hasn’t visited and it’s not like you can call for him with the current state of your status and his own. But you still need to talk to Taehyung.   You need to tell him the truth.   The moment you arrive at the ballroom, your eyes immediately start to sweep the surroundings for brown eyes, dark hair. Your smile is softer than your usual forced one. He has to be here.   “Lady Anastasia!” A viscountess greets you. “I’m so glad to see you’re doing well. I heard about the awful incident.”   “Yes, well, I’m much better now.”   “It sounded so frightening!” Another says, “I wonder who could’ve done such a thing!”   You nod and before you can get completely swarmed by the elites feigning concern, you curtsy. “If you’ll excuse me…”   “Anastasia!” Luckily, a familiar girl comes through the crowd to save the day. Her eyes are bright and her smile is wide. Some mutter at how she dares to call you so intimately, but you pay no mind to them. Lucy looks like she wants to hug you, but for appearance sake, she merely takes your hand. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? I didn’t know if you were coming, so I was planning to visit you and—”   “I’m fine, Lucy. Thank you.”   The girl nods, and rescues you. You can tell it was intentional with the way she guides you out of the sea of people and you’re appreciative. You lean on her for support while looking around for Taehyung. You turn your head in each direction, eyes scrutinizing every person, but you can’t find him.   “Anastasia, I have something to tell you.” Once the two of you are in the corner of the room that allows for a private moment, Lucy shifts to you with anguish reflected in her eyes. “I should’ve been honest with you from the start, but I was denying it since the last thing I wanted was to hurt you. You’re my greatest friend and I love you more than anyone, so if you tell me to leave and never come back, I will in a heartbea—”   “Lucy.” You squeeze her hand. “Jungkook already told me everything.”   Her eyes are wide, brows lifted. You know.    She lowers her head in shame. “I’m sorry.”   The corner of your mouth pulls. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”   You expected this to happen. You have been waiting for it since the beginning. So it doesn’t break your heart like maybe it should. And maybe part of the reason is because of one person.   You frantically ask her what’s been plaguing you, “Lucy, have you seen Taehyung?”   “His Highness?” She shakes her head. “I haven’t.”   It’s odd. He’s always been there. Anywhere where you are. You could turn around and see him.    The mellifluous violins suddenly stop. Conversations simmer down and you hear a clearing of the voice in front of the room. Jungkook steps up the stairs in his princely attire and commands the attention of the crowd. “I have an important announcement to make.”   He looks at you and smiles, nodding his head. Jungkook’s lips part to speak.   All your efforts have been put into this one moment. A peaceful annulment of your engagement, the beginning spark of your freedom. After this, you’ll find Taehyung. You’ll find him and—   “I also have an important announcement.” The King rises from his throne, smiling at his son, and all turn towards him.   That moment’s been stolen away.   Jungkook’s smile falls. Lucy frowns. You step forward.   “I did not want to soil this good day, but now that everyone is gathered, it is only proper to announce that evil and treachery has once again been dispelled away from this empire.”   There’s a clamour. A ruckus of silver armour clanking against one another. Heads turn towards the back entrance where curtains have been drawn. And your breath hitches at the sight.   Taehyung. Finally, you see him, but rope wraps around his trembling wrists and he’s dragged in by two guards without regard for his well-being. The sea of people split and he’s tossed down in front of the throne. He winces upon impact, but no one helps. No one bats an eyelash.   Murmurs immediately spark throughout the room.   An advisor comes forward, reading from his scroll. “His Royal Highness, Taehyung, has been arrested on grounds of treason and attempted regicide committed against His Majesty.”   “Isn’t that the eldest son?” — “The bastard son.” — “Treason?” — “How could he do something like that? To his own father?”   You push a few aside, coming closer. “Taehyung.”    Jungkook comes down the steps, mouth drawing open. Lucy is frozen in her spot.   “There has been evidence found of his Royal Highness practicing the dark arts which has been banned in all of Ashea due to its dangerous and intrinsically evil nature.”   The malicious whispers swell, fear tangible in people’s eyes as those in front back away.   “His Highness has also dared to accuse the royal King of conspiracy. He endangered his Majesty’s life and attacked the guards of the palace, threatening the entire stability of Ashea.”    There are gasps. You shove someone aside to get past them.   “Therefore, as the punishment fits the crime, he will be sentenced to death immediately.”   No. No!   The King’s voice booms throughout the ballroom, a grand timbre that has long replaced the mellifluous violins. “Let this be a reminder that justice is blind. That my own blood will not be spared of crimes committed against the empire. But let this also be a celebration.”    The King inhales a breath, his shadow looming over Taehyung, his expression full of contempt. His status is as powerful as the countless eyes narrowed in around him. “Today marks the end of tyranny. Today is the end of evil. Today is the beginning of a new era, full of prosperity led by the Crown Princess and the Crown Prince, the only son I have.”   Thunderous applause erupts. It’s deafening with the vigour of a hundred.   Taehyung’s condemnation has been made into a spectacle, a show for the empire, merely an intermission of tonight’s festivities. No one sews doubt. No one dares to think of it. Not when this is merely a bastard son without title, status or wealth. It is not worth believing anything aside from the royal monarch.   In just a few words from the King, Taehyung has been the empire’s villain.   It’s pandemonium. The back of Taehyung’s collar is grabbed and he’s brought up to his bruised knees. Jungkook shouts— “Wait!”. But the Prince is held back by two guards who apologize to him, not allowing another step forward, not allowing him to interfere. But you’re within reach.   You push people aside, fighting against the current of the crowd. You’re so close, you can see him. You can see him looking at you. “Taehyung!”   He smiles at you and your breath hitches in your throat, a painful lump swollen at the bottom.    Your chest aches enough that you nearly crumble to your knees.    You watch as his arms are restrained, face ripped away from your direction. You see a female attendant approaching with a golden tray balancing a porcelain bowl of emerald liquid. It’s poison. The same way his mother died. And they force it in his open mouth, pouring it down his throat.    He chokes on it, sputtering.   “Taehyung!”   The scream is torn out of your blood-curdling throat. Animosity curls hot and surges from the depths of your soul like a blazing inferno. It’s a hatred befitting of a villainess that has seized your entire being and turned the universe into shades of crimson until it’s all you can see.   “Stop it.”   It’s a choice.   You know now that it’s presented to you. A choice between goodness and Taehyung. Between self-preservation and Taehyung. Between a peaceful life and Taehyung.   But you’d choose him every time.   “Stop it.”   Your hands wrap around the sword handle of the guard trying to control the frenzied crowd. The metal whistles as it cuts through the air and he staggers back. You use the entire strength of your body to push past the guard. “Stop it!”   You swing manically until the attendants and servants shriek. Until the bowl slips and shatters on the red carpet, poison spilled like blood splattered. Until they’ve gotten away from him.   Heavy pants escape your lips and you’re faced with horrified expressions of countless. There is no hero to save Taehyung. There has never been a hero to save the villain.   The sword in your grip clangs to the ground. You lurch towards Taehyung and pull his collapsed body into your arms, crying out his name, clasping his cold cheek in your palm. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at you like he should, doesn’t speak your name carefully like you want him to.   “Why?!”    Anger oozes from you through the form of hot tears slipping from your eyes. You raise your pupils to the mighty King, teeth gritted, his own condemnations on your tongue. “His mother was poisoned by the Queen and no one thought to comfort him. He grew up alone. Fending for himself. And even now, his other father…And for what reason?!”    Darkness bleeds from you. It sweeps from your shadow, pours out of your skin and plunges the entire castle into a thick darkness within a blink of an eye. The dark magic weeps from your soul in the form of a violent wind that has whipped through your hair. The flames of the candles suffocating to death, blazing fires are snubbed to ash and the silver moonlight is brought to an eclipse.   “Being born isn’t a sin. Taehyung hasn’t hurt anyone!”    Your voice tearing from your throat echoes above the shrill screams of sheer terror, ear-splitting to the senses. There is chaos of women around you grabbing fistfuls of their ballgowns and running blindly, men aimlessly trying to escape and bumping into one another. An undignified stampede.   “Help me!” — “Mommy! Where are you?!” — “Someone save me!” — “Please! Let me out!”   The walls and ceilings of the palace begin to tremble, specks falling down like the snow of December. The chandeliers swing from their golden chains, crystals clanging together.    The King stands from his throne, shouting madly but no one hears or follows his command. Your parents are frightened, yet they still stand by and call out your name, only to no avail. The four walls around the room start to crack, splintering in tens of paths like a mirror colliding against the concrete. And the darkness becomes overwhelming. It consumes your form like smoke, the hue of ink spilled on oil. It wraps its hands around your throat and submerges you completely.   You realize this is the end.   You and Taehyung still became the villainess and the villain. You couldn’t escape that fate. You were stupid to think you could have any semblance of control. Everything was inevitable.   You hug Taehyung to your body as heart aching sobs wreck through your frame. No matter how hard you try, you can’t keep him warm. You can’t stop the cold from taking him away.   The little changes you made wasn’t enough to alter the final ending.   It was never enough. Nothing’s really changed.   The last traces of darkness embedded in your soul spills over. “Anastasia!” And somewhere in the cacophony, you hear Jungkook and Lucy scream your name.    It’s funny how even with this horrible ending, you don’t resent them whatsoever. If anything, it’s an irony that the two main protagonists are the only people who know your true nature and Taehyung’s. They’re the only pair that believes in you, that knows Taehyung isn’t a villain.   You hope they can be happy together.   You hold Taehyung in your arms and before you can be absorbed in darkness, the both of you glow. His skin and yours illuminates like stars on a night sky, burning a warm light. Your brows furrow, the last of your tears shedding down your cheeks and then your breath hitches as a shade of emerald wisps floats from Taehyung’s parted lips.   You recognize the colour — it’s the same as the poison.   ‘I once knew a woman, a kind but poor woman.’ You get it now. ‘She wanted to do anything she could to change the predetermined fate of her unborn child.’ You finally understand as the priestess’ voice rings inside your head like a death knell. ‘She did a ritual to search for a soul that would protect her son.’   The black magic is saving Taehyung. The poison is being drawn out of his body. But you’re the trade-off.    The darkness will devour you to save him.    You quickly hug Taehyung closer to you, embracing him against your body. The darkness is consuming your being, but you’re not afraid. You don’t feel scared whatsoever.    This is your purpose after all, the reason why your soul is here in this universe. This is where your thread of fate entangles with Taehyung. It’s your final act as his destined protector.    Darkness swallows you.

It’s an empty void of pitch black. An abyss of nothing.   There’s a pressure on your shoulders. It’s heavy. Comforting. Eerie. All at the same time.   Yet it feels a bit different from being dead. Or at least from what you can remember. It’s as if you’re somewhere between the boundary of life and death. Your consciousness is still sharp and in-tact instead of being hazy. And you feel very much like Y/N and Anastasia rather than just being.   Your suspicions that this isn’t death is confirmed when you can make out a figure in the distance. It’s a line of light tracing a body and as you come closer, you’re able to make out a woman.   She’s dressed in simple attire, a gray dress that has fabrics layered on top of one another, light enough that they drape down and flow, and there’s a charcoal shawl around her shoulders. Her brunette hair is tied into a bun and as if she feels the pressure of your eyes, her bright irises turn towards you.   “I’m sorry I put you through this.”   Her voice is soothing. It sounds all around you and awakens a memory of when you were seven, when you saw her at the garden, when she offered you her kindness. And now that you’ve seen her again, she looks so much like Taehyung. The yearning in your heart is painful.   “I just wanted to save my son.”   “I know.”   “But I didn’t realize that if you died, everything would repeat.” The corners of her mouth upturns into a grieving smile, her gaze saddened. “Taehyung would have an even stronger reason for revenge.”   Blood drains from your face and you can hear it above you — Taehyung’s haunting voice, the many future paths and possibilities that you had tried to prevent.   “You killed her!” — “She was the only person I ever loved!” — “All I wanted was to be with her!”   You’ve failed. Even more than the original story. Your existence made things worse for him. It brought the empire to ash by his hand.   “I...I’m sorry.” You look at her, voice heavy in your throat. “I was given the chance to know everything, to live through it all, but I still made the wrong choices in the end. All of them. It never amounted to anything. I lost to fate.”   “It’s not your fault, Y/N.” Taehyung’s mother closes the distance with three steps and her hand lifts to tenderly cup your cheek. The pad of her thumb wipes away your teardrop. “I am thankful you were the one who was there for him.”   She vanishes before you before another syllable can be uttered from your lips. The particles of her body dissipate in thin air as if her appearance was just an imprinted memory embedded in the magic. You grasp the space in front of you and realize that it’s empty, that you’re alone.   “No,” you scream. “I-If I could do it again, I’d redo it all.”   The last remnants of magic in your soul tingles at your fingertips. It’s wielded in your complete control. And a thought strikes you. Your soul has manipulated space and time before. In this abyss...you can restart it. You can begin it all over again. You can make up for your mistakes.   You would start on that night. That night he came to your balcony. ‘I was going to take that secret to the grave, but I can’t stand by and watch you like this. I love you. Be with me.’   You would answer him with a yes. You would take his hands—   But no. It wouldn’t be enough. You need to keep turning back time.   Before the hunt and the feast. The debutante ball, the night of the Solar Festival eight years ago. Before the funeral and the moment you came to him. You need to save Taehyung’s mom.   “My son likes chocolate, but I only managed to get candy for today.” — “Your son?” — “Mom?”   If you returned to those days, you would’ve been quiet. You would’ve complied. You would make it so he never had to see you, so you two would never have to meet.   You wouldn’t allow yourself to exist.   As the memories plague you and time twists backwards, you realize that all those coincidences were never coincidences. The first meeting. The funeral. The Solar Festival. The reunion. It was fate.   But you can sever the thread. You can erase yourself from the story.   “Anastasia! Wait!”   Your wrist is taken and you’re suddenly yanked back into a firm chest before time can be moved to your will. A gasp pulls from your lungs and your eyes lift to meet brown ones. He found you.   “Don’t do it.” Taehyung’s grabbed a hold of you. He’s materialized into this limbo, but his skin is translucent, barely held together by his own magic. He gazes at you and begs, “Please.”   “H-How are you here?”   “I would never let you go so easily.”    It must run in the family — mother and son alike fighting against the laws of nature to alter fate through sheer will.    Taehyung’s found you through his magic, traveled realms and universes to follow you into this state of uncertainty between life and death. You don’t know if you feel happy or sad, or even laugh at the fact that no matter what you did, Taehyung still became a powerful magician. But you know he’s weakened, that he can’t be here for long. He is still on the side of life after all. There’s only so much time left before he’ll be forced away.    He’ll return. And his fate might be worse than it was before.   “I’m sorry.” You shake your head. “I don’t want you to die.”   Taehyung pulls you into him. His arms wrap around your frame and he tightly embraces you. Your face presses into his shoulder and he sighs against the strands of your hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t change anything. Don’t go back. I don’t want to get rid of these memories.”   “But your mom.”   “It’s okay,” he murmurs, “It’s okay. I still don’t want you to change anything about you or me. What’s done is done. Just come back with me. You saved me so let me save you.”   “No one gets to decide what happens to us, other than us.” He promises, “I won’t let it happen.”   The urge to trust Taehyung runs deeper than your despair and doubts. So you inhale a deep breath and nod. No matter what happens, you’ll be together.    Taehyung smiles against you and before he slips from the realm of nothingness. The darkness around the pair of you disappears. You grab onto him tightly, bracing yourself and once you open your eyes, you find yourself returned to the ballroom, the dark magic no longer present.    It’s vanished from your soul. It doesn’t linger in the room. People are no longer screaming.    Instead, they pant, pressed up against the farthest side of the room, still shaking from fear. Fragments of the disaster still dwell by the debris, the broken chandeliers, and the cracked walls.   The King is disheveled and anger is aflame in his eyes. He inhales a heaving breath and then points to the both of you, bellowing, “Arrest them!”   But no one moves.   Taehyung keeps you in his arms and faces his father. “All I ever wanted was to be loved. And I finally found the person who can do so unequivocally. I wouldn’t give this up for the world.”   Your eyes meet your parents who make no efforts to stop you. They stand still, expressions impassive yet warm at the edges. Then your eyes stray to Lucy and Jungkook, apologetic.   Before another word can be spoken, Taehyung disappears with you.   It happens in a mere blink. Like the Summer breeze whisking away dandelion seeds to the far off meadow, a iridescent soap bubble in the azure sky popping. The both of you are gone.   Just like that.    You vanish in thin air with only traces of Taehyung’s magic left behind.   Instantly, there’s a ruckus — a clamour from the people. The King’s face crumples and reddens, and he shakes with an unadulterated fury. His voice booms throughout the room as he commands the guards. “Find them!”   But they never do.   And for that, Jungkook is relieved.

The King falls ill. 

It happens shortly after the incident that soils the reputation of the entire empire and spreads across the lands. A tale of a forbidden love between villains — the Forgotten Prince and the Crown Prince’s fiancée. A story that warns children of dark magic and straying off their destined path. And it’s whispered from traders and merchants to the elite of nearby kingdoms.    For the rest of the months that the King is alive, he tries to search for his first son.   “Your Majesty.” A knight bows.   “What did you find?”   There’s a held silence. “The trail has gone cold.”   The King’s hand curls into a tight fist and he turns, snatching the golden gauntlet off the table to hurl it at the knight who flinches. The gauntlet slams into the floor, skidding off in the room and as the King huffs dryly and moves away, another knight arrives. He immediately bows.   “On with it!” he barks.   “The traces of magic have vanished. The Magicians of the Tower cannot trace it. They’re nowhere in sight, Your Majesty.”   The old man staggers on his feet. He presses his fingers against his pounding temples and before another shout can surge through his lungs and throat, he tilts and collapses onto the ground.    The golden crown clatters off his head.   “Your Majesty!”   It’s a twisted irony.    All of Taehyung’s life, he’s been neglected and ignored. Pushed to the corners of the castle — unwanted, unheard, unloved. But when the King is on his deathbed, the healers unable to cure him of his maddened anger that’s strained his health, Taehyung is all he looks for.   “Father.” Jungkook is at his bedside, kneeling with his brows tightly knitted.   The King turns his head and a dry wheeze chokes out of him. With his last breath, he asks, “Whe...re...is….T...ae...h...y..u..ng?”   The question is left unanswered.    He dies with his eyes still open, cold hand slipping out of his son’s, arm dropping over the edge.    Jungkook’s breath hitches in his nose, his eyes stinging painfully. But he shuts his lids tight and musters strength. In the next moment, he stands and turns to face the grieving advisors behind him. His voice is firm. Unwavering. “Announce the King’s death and prepare for an edict.”   The men exchange expressions. “What will the edict be, Your Majesty?”   “Anyone who sees my brother and harms him shall be executed under the crown.”   When Jungkook reigns, he undos all the indictments made by his father. It’s a surprise to all, an act difficult to understand to Dukes and commoners alike, but Jungkook clears Taehyung’s name alongside Lucienne de Liza Helena who becomes Queen in the following Spring.    Peace is once again brought to the empire of Ashea in the coming years.   Slowly but surely, the tales of the Prince’s Fiancée and the Forgotten Prince metamorphosizes from the tragic story of villains to children folktales of sacrifice and star-crossed lovers, an ancient mystery never solved.   There are those who wonder if they perished together in a meadow. And those who believe that the pair are perhaps still alive and wandering the lands hand in hand together.

[Epilogue]   “Cheyenne! Is that eggs?”   The young maid looks down at her tray. “Ummm….”    “What did I say? Her Majesty will get sick if she smells eggs!” The older girl quickly takes it away from her and puts it down. “Do you want to get into trouble?”   “I forgot, I swear!”   “You should be lucky that I caught you in time, and that the Queen is so forgiving. But if His Majesty saw…” She shakes her head. “He wouldn’t have any of it. Not when Her Majesty is in such a fragile state.”   She nods and the two of them quickly head back to the kitchen. But surprisingly, the head maid tells them there’s no need to deliver breakfast to Her Majesty’s chambers. They instead follow orders to hang up the sheets in the west courtyard. But on their way, the younger stops when her friend beckons her over. The conversation is only a minute before she’s catching up to the older girl.   “Slacking already?”   The younger maid pouts. “No. Kaylein was just telling me about the strange people.”   “What?”   “Did you not hear? There were two strange people who came earlier into the castle. Apparently they’re healers from a distant land.” Her eyes light up as she connects the dots. “That must be why Her Majesty isn’t having her breakfast!”   “Well thank goodness.” Her eyes dart around and she lowers her voice. “Ever since it was announced she was with child, everyone’s been worried about her health. Even the King doesn’t look like he’s slept well in months.”   The younger nods enthusiastically. “But this means Her Majesty will be safe, right?”   The older girl smiles. “Let’s hope so.”   ...   Half across the castle, Jungkook marches down the corridor in determined strides and eyes set firmly to the doors at the end. He’s already dismissed his annoyingly persistent advisors and every castle worker knows better than to interrupt him when he’s beelining straight ahead. No one disturbs him as they rightfully shouldn’t, and he gets to the chambers, opening the door only slightly to slip inside.   Inside, there are two cloaked figures, forms draped in complete black.   Or at least until they turn and Jungkook sees brown eyes with a meaningful expression and another with a mischievous grin who scoffs, “About time, Your Royal Majesty. Or should I say, late as always?”   Jungkook didn’t miss that sarcastic tone. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.   “When did you get here?”   “Ten minutes ago. You should be lucky we entered properly. I almost told Taehyung to just teleport us inside to save us the walk.”   “Well I’m glad you didn’t.” The corner of Jungkook’s mouth curls. “Or else my knights might’ve thought you were intruders and cut off your heads.”   “Psh. Uh-huh. If they can even catch us.”   “Shush, you two,” Taehyung commands and you glare at him playfully.   The man turns back to the Queen who’s upright in her bed and his hands hover over her. Her eyes are shut and she glows for a moment before the light dissipates. When it’s done, she sighs softly in relief and colour seems to return to her features.   “Thank you,” she murmurs and opens her eyes.   “How is she?” Jungkook rushes to her side.   Lucy smiles, clasping her hand on top of his. “I’m fine, Jungkook.”   “She should be better now,” Taehyung confirms. “Her energy was off balance and her mana was disordered. But she shouldn’t feel so tired anymore. It looks like the future heir is a magical user.”   “How lucky.” You press your nose into the crowd.   Jungkook ignores you. “So she should be okay now?”   “For the time being. Of course, I’m not a midwife so she should follow their instructions and rest.”   “See?” Lucy stands up while holding onto her swollen stomach and her husband rushes to help her. But she waves him off and hoists herself onto her feet. Lucy’s become a lot firmer since you remembered, her kindness almost matronly now. It might be from the experience she’s gained or how she’s going to be a mother soon. But you weren’t wrong when you thought she’d make a beloved Queen all those years ago. “You heard him. There’s no need to fret, Jungkook.”   “I know, I know. I just can’t help it.” He sighs and looks at his older brother. “You should stay.”   “Jungkook—”   “We don’t know when we’ll need you again. All those healers are useless compared to you. It’s better if you’re here. The Magician’s Tower would be happy to have your magical talents and it’s only right if Anna is here too.”   “We already talked about this.”   You add in, “We have this conversation every time.”   Jungkook gives the two of you a look. “Then maybe it’s time that you start considering it.”   “He’s right.” Lucy comes and takes your hands within her’s, holding them gently. “Stay with us, Anastasia. I miss you and I want to talk to you often.” Before you can jump in, she beats you to the punch, “and not just through letters. The palace will always welcome you. The people will open their eyes with time.”   The corner of your mouth pulls. “Is this a command, Your Majesty?”   She sighs softly with a smile and lets you go. “You know it isn’t.”   Lucy’s gotten older — all of you have. You’ve grown into your frames, matured, and are no longer children unaware and afraid. When you come here with Taehyung and see them, it makes you feel like you haven’t made such bad choices all along. That perhaps, things weren’t as bad as you once thought.   “Stay with us,” Jungkook insists, coming to hold onto Lucy to support her.   You look at Taehyung and exchange expressions. Your answer will always be the same.    “We can’t. You know we have a new home now.” You come to Taehyung’s side and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. The pair of you know it’s time. You can’t stay for long. “You can always come visit us. I promise the forest isn’t that bad. Taehyung’s already chased off the wild beasts.”   “I did.” He looks down and grins at you.   “At least think about it,” Jungkook sighs. He looks a bit tired and worn, but in spite of the heavy duties placed upon him as King, he’s coping well. Better than expected.   They might thank you and Taehyung each time you visit, but you have more than enough reasons to be grateful to the two of them. It’s because of Jungkook and Lucy that the Devereux house is still standing. You’ve seen them from afar — your parents look happy in their retirement, and Joan and Edith are still very much employed and gossiping about the latest scandals together.   It’s because of them that the guilt and burdens have lifted from you.   But even if you are indebted equally to each other, you can’t grant his wish.   “You know I’ve never liked castle life, Jungkook.” You loll your head to the side. “Our daughter has a bad habit of collecting ladybugs too, so I don’t think she’d suit it either.” You grin when Jungkook glares, recalling the first meeting back when you were children that you’ll never let go. “I just wonder who she gets her troublemaking personality from.”   Taehyung’s brow cocks.“Obviously from you.”    You look up at your husband and your smile softens. “Your daughter almost set my hair on fire yesterday using nothing but her hands.”   “She’ll make a talented magician,” he declares proudly.   You scoff and look at the two monarchs who are best fitted for their positions. “We shouldn’t leave her for long in case she floods the rooms again. But we’ll come when the boy’s born.”   The pair of them turn to one another and your mouth draws open. “Guess I ruined the surprise! Sorry! But it’s a boy! Congratulations again.”    You quickly laugh much to Lucy’s amusement and Jungkook’s surprise. Taehyung shakes his head as if he knew he should’ve just kept it to himself.    Before another word can be said, the pair of you disappear again. Right into thin air.   //   The wooden box of mementos are full of objects and trinkets, little memories made across the lands before you settled in the perfect forest bordering the meadow. But above it all is a neatly folded pink handkerchief that’s frayed at the hem from age.    You still can’t believe he kept it for so long. But you look at it with fondness.   It was the first right decision you’ve ever made.   “Taehyung.”   “Hmmm?”   “Would you believe me if I told you I came from another world?”   He’s quiet for a moment. “I would.” Before you can ask why, he says, “You were the only one who sat next to a crying kid underneath a tree without even knowing them.”   You laugh and he smiles, leaning in to plant a soft kiss to your lips as the midnight oil burns.   The cottage is quiet with your child fast asleep in the next room. The forest is tranquil too and as thick as the darkness is outside, it’s nothing but comforting.   “Do you ever want to go back to that world?” Taehyung asks after a moment.   You look at him, smile tender. “Why would I when my purpose is to be with you right here?”   This is all you wanted in two entire lifetimes — a long and fruitful life, full of peace and happiness.   And it’s only the beginning.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Treasure hunt Part 2

Pairing: dragon!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, mentions of breeding, non-con.

Words: 2035.

Summary: No knight would dare to save a sacrificial bride of the dragon.

Part 1

______________

Stepping on the cold stone floor of the cave, you carefully circled around the mountains of gold and silver and moved forward. Navigating in the dark was incredibly hard, but the soft glow of gems and shining armours here and there helped you to get through. 

You were in your old torn nightgown again, the fancy garments Steve had gifted you laying on the bed along all those necklaces, earrings, cuffs, broches and rings finished with precious stones. You didn't need any of those as you run towards your way out of the deep cave. The only thing you craved for was your freedom.

Almost tripping over the golden spear, you finally saw the moonlight coming from the entrance of dragon's dungeon. You held your breathe. You were so close.

In a second you sprinted towards it with gleeful abandon, thinking of the dark night sky, huge fields and mountains surrounding the cave. It was scary to think you would have to fend for yourself from now on, but you were a traveler. You could make it as long as no one tried to seize you like those villagers, now all gone thanks to the dragon's wrath. You gulped. You prayed he would sleep soundly while you sneak out in the darkness of the night.

A part of you felt guilty for leaving him after everything he had done for you, but being his little pet because he deemed you too feeble to leave was humiliating. Maybe you would find some other way to thank him for his generosity later. As of now, the only thing on your mind was getting away from this place.

You could already feel the slight chill in the air when you got closer to the huge entrance of the cave and rushed towards it, thinking of nothing else but the cool wind blowing outside. Your lips curled when you saw the moon and stars high above you. However, before you stepped on the grass, you felt a push so strong you ended up thrown far back at the rocky floor and yelped in sudden pain - you crushed your elbow, blood seeping from it on the cold stone beneath you. Tears sting at your eyes as you hugged your arm and bit down on your lip to stop screaming.

What was that? What had pushed you so hard it sent you flying? You saw nothing in front of you, no scary creatures guarding the entrance of the prison you were locked in. Yet something didn't want you leave.

... or rather someone.

In a few moments you heard a distant sound of flapping gaunt wings and stilled. You had awoken the dragon with your cry, and now he was coming for you. You had failed terribly.

His blue eyes were glowing in the dark brighter than gems as he flew to you in his true form, big as a mountain, while you stared at his scaled golden wings with horror. His monstrous shadow covered you from above before he started landing, his gaze disturbing, anxious. A flap of his wings set off a little tornado, and you pressed yourself to the floor in panic. He was going to eat you. Burn you. Make you suffer for your disobedience. You had to stay in the cave instead of opposing his wish to protect you.

You sobbed quietly once the dragon had partly changed his form in haste - although his body was human, his sharp claws and long tale belonged to the dragon, his new appearance strange and frightening. He hurried towards you, his eyes on your blood-stained arm.

"What happened to you, my love?" Steve asked, bending over and reaching for your elbow. "Why did you leave your bed?"

What could you answer? With eyes full of tears, you kept your mouth shut, watching him growing with worry at your silence. You had betrayed his trust. 

"I will heal your wound, stay still." He sighed when you chewed on your lower lip, afraid to look at him.

The ointment suddenly appeared in his hand as if by magic, and Steve had torn the cotton fabric forcefully to look at the blood seeping from your arm. He said nothing at all as he wiped the wound and applied fresh-smelling balm on your skin. You felt disgusted at yourself: your savior had been so patient and kind, yet you preferred to escape without expressing your gratitude.

"You gave up all the gifts I brought you, my love." The dragon stated calmly as he finished. "Why? Don't be silent, sweetheart. I demand you to speak."

Desperately wiping the tears falling again and again with the back of your hand, you nodded. You could not bring youself to open your mouth.

"Why?" He asked one more time, his eyes the same color as the dark sky again. "Why do you want to leave me, my love? Have I not treated you kindly? Have I not given you everything you wanted?"

"I want to see the night sky." You muttered under your breathe, looking at the torn hem of your nightgown. "I want to feel the grass under my feet and listen to the chirping of the crickets."

"You are not my prisoner, sweetheart. I can bring you wherever you want me to."

A whine rebounded from your chest at his words.

"I don't want to be a sacrificial lamb." You sobbed, shaking your head desperately. "I don't want to be a pet. I don't want to ask for permission every time I step outside the cave."

"You are not my pet." The dragon whipped his huge sharp tail with such force it ruined one of the mountains of gold close to it, and you squeezed your eyes shut, terrified of his temper tantrums. "You are the one I've chosen to keep by my side, shield from the dangers of the world and share my treasures with you so you would share yours. Why isn't it enough? What else do I have to do?"

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, his claws dangerously close to your body as if he were going to sank them in your sensitive flesh and tear you apart. He would kill you, oh he would, you felt it in your bones. 

"I have nothing to give you, Steve, Sarah's son." You uttered and finally raised your head to meet his darkened gaze. "And I want nothing from you. Why do you want to keep me? You won't profit from it."

His eyes softened at the sight of your flushed face, wet from tears still streaming down your cheeks and chin. You looked so pathetic in front of him in your old nightgown, degraded bloodstains covering once white fabric, yet so beautiful, so lovely it enraged him to think he could lose you despite all his efforts. It bewildered him how fast he had grown used to your calming presence, your smell, your voice. You said you had nothing to give him, but you were so wrong. He wanted you. He wanted to feel you close, see your pretty face, touch your tender body heavy with his child, your breasts full of milk... He wanted you like no other treasure of his. No one but you could give him what he desired the most.

All of a sudden, he jumped at you and covered your trembling shoulders with his callous palms, his hungry mouth devouring yours while you were frozen on the spot. His hot tongue had poked at your lips, and you gave up to him, granting him access and barely recognizing what you were doing. It felt like a shock jolted him, followed by a pleasant tingling, and the dragon slammed his mouth down against yours with a groan.

"You have a lot to give me." He crooned when you were left gasping for air, astounded and confused. "You have something no one but you can grant me, sweetheart."

You gasped once his clawed hands cupped your soft belly through the thin cotton fabric, watching the man panting and looming above you. You realized just how wrong you were, thinking of him as your protector, a knight in shining armor while he was exactly who villagers told you he was - a hungry monster craving for his bride's warm flesh, just in a different way. 

"No, no." You tried pushing him back, and his sharp tail hit the ground loudly, making you shiver. "P-please, I'm only human. I can't do it."

"My mother was human too." Letting out a chuckle, Steve lowered the nightgown on your shoulders while you desperately clenched the fabric in your arm, your other palm on his chest to prevent him from coming closer. "Why are you afraid? I won't harm you. In the end, this is the destiny of all women, isn't it? To become a good wife and mother. Surely, it is better to belong to me rather than any filthy peasant?"

You couldn't keep arguing, knowing your words would fall in deaf ears, and tried breaking free from his grip only to make the dragon more excited as he climbed on top of you, lifting the hem of your nightgown as his hands trailed upward. His palms were burning your thighs when you whimpered, shaking and moving beneath him like a snake. Why was he doing it? Did he force himself on each and every bride of his and got rid of them later once he got bored?

"Please, please let me go." You pleaded, feeling him leaving hot kisses down your neck and shoulders, his lips dry but soft. "Let me leave, I beg of you!"

"Oh you can't leave, sweetheart. You've eaten the dragon fruit, remember?" His toothy smile made you feel sick. "Now you are bound to me."

"Like all of them were?" You yelled in disgust and despair, staring at the dragon's hollowed blue eyes. "Did you truly let them go as you said? Or did you eat them when you no longer loved them?"

Your words made him laugh as he bared your breasts, ripping the fabric apart with his claws but avoiding touching your skin before his hands fully tranformed into human ones. Dragon's enourmous tail layed close to you, its razor-edged tip reminding you Steve could kill you within a few seconds.

Then he stroked your wet cheek with his fingers and cooed softly, his gaze darkening at the sight of your angered face. "None of them deserved to stay, sweetheart. I let them go. I don't know why you insist I eat humans as if I were a lowly beast, but if you're so eager to see me doing it, I will eat you."

Your mouth tasted like copper when you bit on your lip too hard, missing the mischievous look in Steve's bright blue eyes as you flinched from his touch, his tail now pressing you to the cold stony floor. The dragon backed down a bit, and you saw how he hungrily looked at your thighs and belly. He prepared to devour you, tear your flesh apart, and you were to die at his hands for your stubbornness and stupidity. Trembling like a leaf, you shut your eyes, preparing for the end.

Then you winced from a tender touch, Steve caressing your naked mound with his hand lovingly, his eyes watching you intently. What was that? Was he going to sank his teeth into?..

You covered your mouth with your palm as you felt his long wet tongue on your gentle folds. Gods, it would be even more painful than you had ever imagined. This perverted monster wanted to devour your womanhood. But before you could cry out in pain, you suddenly mewled from his pleasurable kitten licks and squirmed, trying to get up to see what the dragon was doing.

"W-wha..."

"I'm sorry, my dear." Steve smirked, raising his head a bit and pressing a shameless kiss to your mound. "But this is how I like to eat cute little girls like you. So, keep this pretty hand away from your mouth and let me show you how good I can make you feel."

_____________

Tags: @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @kawairinrin

[y4nfe1s]

may i request strangers to lovers with diluc , the reader is like the eternal guardian of mondstadt (idk if that’s a thing but the reader is like how the adepti are with liyue) and they’re always with venti but the reader is doing their duties to protect mondstadt at night and they see diluc and they think he’s fatui or something so they tackle him , maybe they tussle with eachother.

And diluc is like “who are you?” and the reader is just like “who am i? , i’ve been protecting mondstadt for centuries , who are you?”

and then they fight together and become lovers

i’m sorry if this is too much i just thought i would be a nice idea

— lumi wrote this one

— fighting and arguing

— it’s not too much! do not worry :)) i love e2l hehe :> i hope you like it!! it took a lot of brain power hahaha

— wc: 809

You were the ‘protector’ of Mondstadt. No one knew about it, but there were many speculations of someone called ‘The Dark Knight’. You didn’t know of him, and you were pretty sure it wasn’t you.

You were lurking in the shadows once again, watching over Mondstadt as always. It has changed over the years, locations and people. But one thing never grew old, and that was your love to protect and ensure the safety of the lovely lives below. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a dark figure moving under the lamplight. Hurriedly, you followed close behind, making sure to stay quiet. Your footsteps barely made a sound as you leapt across rooftops, inly catching small glimpses of the Knight before he was off again.

This happened for weeks, months even. You could tell the Dark Knight had picked up on your presence. It all snapped one night though, when you let yourself be seen accidentally.

You stumbled back as the unknown Knight pounced, holding his claymore tightly. “Who are you?” He demanded. “Explain why you’ve been following me.”

“Who am I?” You pondered. You haven’t been asked that question in centuries. “I’m Y/N. I’ve been protecting Mondstadt for as long as I can remember. Now, who are you?” You saw the man hesitate.

“Diluc. Diluc Ragnvindr. I guess you could call me ‘Dark Knight’. I also protect Mondstadt.” He let down his claymore, stepping back. You stood up, brushing off your clothes.

“Ah, it’s nice to know you’re helping Mondstadt, Diluc.” You smiled slowly, and you saw Diluc look taken aback.

“Same..” He said back, sheathing his sword. “Well. I’ll be off.” He looked over his shoulder. “And don’t follow me.”

Scoffing, you headed in a different direction, making sure Mondstadt was safe every time.

Each night you saw Diluc, he always reminded you to not follow him. You grew curious one day, and followed. While you were almost completely sure he wasn’t up to anything suspicious, you wanted to double check. Your footsteps were silent, stalking within the shadows, following the odd man. He was just wandering around, checking every noise. It was normal enough, and you saw no problem in it. It was what you do anyways.

“I told you not to follow me.” Diluc’s voice started you out of your thoughts, deeper than usual. He was standing over you, but his claymore was not out.

“I just happened to be going in the same direction.” You dismissed. “I’ll go the opposite way this time, alright?” Your voice was a bit snappy, but you were nervous around the man for some reason. You could feel Diluc’s gaze on your back as you stalked away.

The routine of dodging Diluc continued for weeks again. You wanted to have a normal conversation with him, but no opportunity showed itself. You had found out where he worked simply by word of the town, but you weren’t sure if you were prepared to face him in the public eye.

Eventually you had found the courage to, stepping into The Angels Share. Diluc was behind the bar, and he looked up, a faint shade of red covering his face.

“Hello. What can I get you?” He asked, setting down the glass he was cleaning. You took a seat at the counter.

“Hmm, some Dandelion Wine would be good. Maybe even a conversation after your work is done.” You smiled slyly, noticing the blush grow on his face.

“Dandelion Wine coming up.” He started to get to work. He slid the cup to you, mumbling a, “Meet me on the roof after just after the moon rises.”

“He could’ve said midnight.” You grumbled, swinging your legs. It was a little while longer before you heard Diluc climb up.

“Hello. What did you want to talk about?” He sat embarrassingly far away.

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to patrol Mondstadt together. Two is better than one.” You smiled, leaving the distance.

Somehow, Diluc agreed, and now you patrolled the streets with the tall man. Most of the conversations were awkward, but you persisted. Soon enough, he lightened up, including himself more into the one sided conversations. Before you knew it, Diluc had become a good friend of yours.

“Looks like a full moon!” You said cheerfully, strolling beside him. Diluc looked up and hummed softly. “You want to ask me something, don’t you?” Diluc looked a little startled.

“Well, yeah. I do.” Diluc shuffled his feet, coming to a stop. You sat down on a nearby crate. “I was wondering.. I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime.” You knew what he meant, but part of you wanted to tease. As you met his eyes, they shone with hope, and raw emotion.

“Of course I would.” You smiled softly, standing up and kissing his cheek.