#I just know the chapter 3 princesses are going to be even longer

[insert-random-account-name]

Analyze the Princess- The Spectre

The Spectre is one of the most fascinating routes in the entire game. It’s the only one where you do not interact with the base Princess. The Spectre was quite underrated before the Pristine Cut, simply because there was more interesting content in the other nine Chapter 2s. Since the Pristine Cut, a lot more interest has been drawn in the form of the Princess and the Dragon. The new chapter has since garnered more appreciation for the Spectre, and how interesting her chapter is by itself. Her chapter mirrors the base Princess, having a gentle form and a harsh form. I will do my best to give both of these versions justice.

You get the Spectre by entering the basement armed in Chapter 1, not talking or interacting with the Princess at all, and then slaying her at the first opportunity. After she’s dead, you have to attempt to leave, and then kill yourself. This results in a dead Princess. You watched her body decay into dust and bone, heck, you pulled the knife out of her skeletal ribcage. There is simply no way that she can be alive. And yet, she’s still there. Not what she was before, but certainly moving, and certainly conscious. She doesn’t know what to think about you. Yes, you ran a blade through her heart, but you didn’t say a word to her beforehand. Maybe you’re just that cold, but maybe if she got the chance to talk with you, it would’ve ended differently. The Spectre is willing to hold off all judgements until the two of you can have a good talk. However, she still remembers what you’ve done, and isn’t hesitant to return the favor. She decides to let you make the first move, and that decides how she acts towards you. 

If you let the Spectre drift around you without attempting to kill or grab at her, she realizes that you might be more willing to talk. She doesn’t know what happened after she died, but maybe you had a change of heart. Since all the Spectre really wants is to leave, she’s ready to be more open and conversational. Her voice is lighter, she sounds more teasing than malicious, and only uses her “scary” face when you really push her. In this form, the Spectre seems more willing to forgive and forget, and while she is still quite upset about her untimely demise, she is more understanding of your position. If you decide to let her possess you in this form, once she’s in your mind, the Spectre takes a surprisingly sympathetic tone towards the voices and the Narrator, even suggesting that the Narrator might even like her. If you betray the Spectre and stab yourself, she sounds upset and bewildered.

If you lash out at the Spectre on your first meeting, she knows that you haven’t changed one bit. The only reason you’re talking is because stabbing is out of the question. Her tone is far more aggressive, and she acts meaner towards you. Her “scary” face appears more often in this form, and her voice is less wispy, taking on sharper tones instead. The Spectre’s sympathy died with her, and she is holding no judgments on her murderer. If you let her possess you in this form, she is surprised, but makes it clear that she’s in charge now. Her tone is a lot harsher with the voices, and she tells the Narrator to shut up. If you betray the harsh Spectre, she reacts with anger at your audacity to kill her twice.

If you leave with the Spectre, regardless of the form, she thanks you for freeing her, and leaves your body. If you have the gentle form, she thanks you repeatedly, and says that you’re forgiven. If you have the harsh form, she is far more reserved, but notes that you do seem to be trying to make it up to her. She then escapes your body so she doesn’t have to be stuck with you for eternity.

However, if you attempt to leave her in the basement, smash her bones, or repeatedly attempt to slay her, the Spectre will run out of patience. She tried to be nice, to show you that maybe slaying her isn’t the best option, but you aren’t listening. Even after seeing with your own eyes that death doesn’t apply to her, you kept trying to find a way to rid yourself of her. There is clearly no way to get through to someone so set on destruction, so the Spectre decides she’ll send you a message in the only language you understand. Violence. She takes all of her hatred, all of her fear, all of her languishing alone with no hope or help, and drives it into your chest, ripping out your heart with what can only be described as raw fury. The Spectre lets her revenge twist her into something that can match your evil, but that goes more into the Wraith, so I’ll stop there.

What does the Spectre represent? Second chances, and forgiveness. Despite everything that happens, the Spectre is willing to put aside your murderous past for a chance at a better future for herself. The best ending with the Spectre is the one where you both put aside your differences and leave together. But she’s not the only one who gives second chances. You have to put aside everything you’ve been told about the Princess, the potential fate of the world, and your own fear of any vengeful feelings she may have. Only when you are willing to actually talk to the Princess, and ask her about what she really wants, can you make it out alive. If you aren’t willing to give her a second chance, the Spectre will match your energy, and ghosts can’t die twice, unlike you.

In the end, the Spectre is simply someone who was wronged in the past, but trying to move on from her loss in search of true freedom. Her nature and body is vaporous, just like her heart.

Other parts:

The Razor The Stranger The Damsel The Prisoner The Tower The Witch The Spectre

(If you like my yapping, check out my other analyses. There's ones for all the voices here and my one for the narrator here)

[love-ethell]

This one took way longer than expected cause I really had no idea what to center the first parts on and I was way busier than expected these past few days, but here's part 2 to Blooming Hearts! (I think after this chapter I'm gonna go back to taking requests so feel free to leave more if you have any! >[]<)

𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓼

Part 1

probably ooc :3

Telemachus x reader , arranged marriage au

Word count: 2.1k

summary: When you were 17 you found out you were to be betrothed to the prince of Ithaca, you thought he would be another entitled snotty nosed prick such as the princes you met countless times on visits. a few years pass with you staying in your kingdom and your parents decide its was time for you to meet the prince, so you're sent to the kingdom of Ithaca to meet your soon to be husband, with skepticism in your mind you think this will be a loveless marriage as you've heard most arranged marriages turn to be, but a part of you wants to make things work, soon after you learn this marriage might not be the worst thing ever.

(reader is depicted as female)

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝓌𝑜

(Back in Ithaca)

Telemachus shut the door to his room, the hinges whining from the movement. Argos jumping onto his bed, tail wagging, waiting for Telemachus to join him. Walking over to the bed Argos hopping onto his lap, "can you really believe it Argos? I'm supposed to wed to a princess! Y/n of *insert kingdom name cause I'm lazy* I heard she's very pretty, I wonder if she would like me though.. I'm not much" he whispers.

He can't help but feel excited, the thought of potentially having a connection with someone as deep as his parents, someone to devote all of himself to, someone to give all of his love and for them to do the same.

Suddenly he realized something. A problem standing in the way of happiness, the nuisances living in his home. The suitors still being in the palace, the thought of them being in the same walls as his betrothed. His brows furrowed thinking about their booming laughs and obnoxious teasing. He didn't want you to be around them, or even meet them if it was possible.

He sighed, laying flat on his back staring up at the ceiling. "That's a problem for another day I guess.. I doubt I'll meet her anytime soon, I wonder what she's doing now anyway" he thought aloud.

You were taking a stroll in the palace garden when you saw your younger brother Elias walking towards you, fiddling with his hands with a nervous look on his face.

"Hey, can I talk to you.?" he mumbles, looking at the floor. "Of course Eli come sit, over here." you replied

You both walk over to a bench set under a large tree providing shade from the bright sun. He takes a seat next to you. Picking up a small daisy from the grass, he starts to pluck away at it's petals.

"Is something bothering you?" You ask, noticing how off he seems today. Usually, he's very talkative, "uhm, so like, how do you know when you really like someone.?" he mutters, his face flushing

You start giggling, "Huh!? Why are you laughing!?" he stammers, his face visibly hot.

"Is that why you've been so quiet lately?" you manage to get out, clutching your stomach to try and calm the toll laughing took on it.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." You apologize after he glares at you once more. "Would you say you can see yourself with this person in the future?" You turn your head to look at him.

"We'll she's really funny, nice to be around, she's also pretty... like really pretty." He smiles, eyes lighting up at the sudden mention of this mystery maiden.

"I'll take that as a yes.." You chuckle. "So, did you bring this to me cause you wanna ask her out?" Nudging his shoulder while asking.

"I mean, yeah.. I just don't know how to go about it." He sulks. "I really want her to say yes.."

You smile at him, happy that he finally registered his feelings for her. "If this lucky girl is who I think it is, then I think she would say yes regardless of how you ask." The girl you're 1000% he's in love with is none other than his best friend Alicia, and to everyone else, it's clear that they both like each other, and yet they deny any feelings towards each other when someone points it out.

"Really? Do you think so?" He asked. "Of course I do. Everyone has seen the way you guys look at each other, " you hinted. "What I'd say you should do, get her somewhere sentimental, sayy the place you first met or somewhere you both have good memories together, as cliché as that is. Then, slowly get near her or maybe take her hands in yours and ask her said question." You advised, taking his hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze." You got this."

"Thank you." He says, giving you a light smile. "Anyway, I'll get out of your hair." He then gets up, walking away slowly, yet he looks much more energetic now.

you giggle at the sudden pep in his step after talking about Alicia. You wish him the best of luck in his little love story.

( I thought it would be cute to add at least a bit of sibling interaction)

(ginormous time skip cause why the hell not, and I'm tired of trying to brainstorm things so yeah, this is now like 2 and a half to 3 years later so like a few months before Odysseus returns :] )

-

You were walking through the halls when a servant came up to you, informing you your parents were requesting you in the throne room.

You begin to walk to the throne room wondering what they want, something told you it had to do with the marriage they had arranged with the Ithacan prince, and you were completely correct.

Over time, you had come to accept your fate. Whether you wanted to marry or not, you were engaged to him.

Your parents ended up informing you that by the end of the week, you were to have all your things packed up since you were going to continue the betrothal with the prince back in Ithaca.

Even though they did give you a heads up that this would happen at some point, it still stung. Having to leave your family. The home you grew up in, as you pack your things not even the crashing waves on the shore could muffle your sobs, tears falling into your luggage.

Saying goodbye to everyone was hard, but you reminded yourself that you would still see them at least a few times a year, which made it a bit more tolerable.

-

As you walk onto the dock, servants making sure everything is in check before you leave. On the far end, your father and mother stand before you.

"My darling," your mother starts, her long hair blowing in the slight breeze. "you look beautiful my love." she compliments, she had commissioned a new chiton for you to arrive in, a beautiful deep blue, white trims fastened with a belt. Not even you could lie, it was stunning.

"We are going to miss you," your father continued "We hope you find happiness in your new home." Even if you doubt that, you nod, smiling at them.

They pull you into a hug, and goodness it was like they were trying to flatten you out! "Okay, okay! that's enough hugs, i think if you squeeze me anymore I'm gonna pop!" actually that sounds much better than your current situation.

You dad chuckles, "Just wanna make sure you don't forget how much we love you dearest." That made you smile, even without the hug, how could you forget? They raised you, held you when nightmares kept you up, they made you laugh, smile, and even cry. You loved these people with not just your heart bit also your soul, in and out.

A servant calls out, everything is ready. You look over seeing Elias and Alicia waving over to you.

She had said yes to be his, even if the whole thing ended with Elias tripping over a rock and faceplanting right in front of her (it took him a few days to come out of his room from the sheer embarrassment) but they were together now and that's all you really cared about. Out of all your siblings you and Elias were the closest by far, if he wasn't with Alicia he was with you, and when you weren't playing the harp (or lyre), weaving or sketching, you were with him.

You wave back at them, focusing on Elias, he was crying, holding onto Alicia's hand to ground himself. Now that made you call out to him "If you cry I'm gonna cry! So stop it!" trying to at least make him laugh (it worked) He shot you a thumbs up, wiping his eyes and smiling at you.

You had already said bye to all your siblings, guess he just wanted an extra one.

Getting onto the ship you look back at the palace in the distance, not knowing when the next time you were going to visit would come, you soaked the serene scene up before nothing but water was left surrounding you.

A servant informed Telemachus that his mother requested his presence in her chambers.

Deciding to take the long way to avoid the suitors, he wondered what she needed this time, was it important or did she just want company? Well whatever it was he'd be happy to listen, its not like he was doing much that day anyway.

-

He reached his mothers chamber doors, knocking softly in the way he always did. He steps in seeing his mother sitting by her window, weaving as usual, he wondered if she ever got bored of doing that.

"Mother? is everything alright?" He asks just to make sure. She stands up grinning like a child, "oh everything is more than okay my love, your betrothed is coming to Ithaca to continue the engagement here!" she announced.

That made his heart skip a beat (multiple beats actually) "Really? oh wow. that's uhm amazing." his face flushing at the thought of finally meeting you. (AWHHH) "Do you know when she's arriving..?" he asks bashfully.

Penelope chuckles at her son's sudden shyness "she should arrive early tomorrow my dear."

He smiles, 2 and a half years he's wondered when he would meet you and the day has finally come. Can't say the same about his father. 'I wonder what she's like, is she as excited as me?' he questioned himself (you definitely were not at the moment)

He headed towards his room, wanting to make sure he would be presentable for the next day. He laid out some fresh clothes and his hair products (yes, I believe he uses hair products cause he's a pretty boy and rich). He knew it would take some time to know you, so he started coming up with questions to ask you while he was lying in bed so he could understand you better, eventually falling asleep after a while.

-

(Back on the ship)

It's been two days of being on this god forsaken ship, Passing the time by sketching flowers or things around the place, yet you’re still bored as ever, so you head to your last resort, your harp, you had avoided playing it in order to not nuisance anyone or risk messing a string up.

 You tasked a few men with bringing it up to the deck from below, they successfully move it to a space where you could play freely. Thanks for the rather still tide, your performance went pretty smoothly, with the occasional bump or two that messed you up a note.

You had never tried before cause you felt like you would fail. but you wanted to try and compose a tune of your own, with this idea you spent the next hour or two brainstorming until you finally found the first few notes you really liked, you decided to go on from there, but as you started playing again the ship started rocking, you tried to pull you hand back but as the ship rocked your finger got stuck, causing one of the strings to snap, “Oh gods! What on earth!” you groan, finger hurting a bit from the previous attack.

“Are you okay dear princess?” one of the servants ask you, clearly concerned

“I am, but my harp is not, one of the strings broke.” you sigh, a defeated look on your face.

“Well I can have it taken to a shop to get fixed as soon as we reach the shores of Ithaca, if you would like that” they offer.

“That would be nice of you, thank you” you smile "well I am quite tired so ill be going to bed now, if you don't mind would you have those men who brought it up, take it back down please?” they nod scurrying away. “thank you!”

You walk into your room plopping down on the bed, even though it was comfortable the rocking from the waves didn't help.

Staring up at the ceiling, you start to wonder how life in Ithaca would be, how it would be with your new husband. 'What if he's different..? Maybe I can form something with him?' You catch yourself mid thought

 'No, you're supposed to hate him, he's the reason you had to move, you were forced into this, no one can make you love him.' You sigh, you lay there for a bit sleep finally coming peacefully.

(you can comment or ask to be added onto the taglist!) >{}< hope you enjoyed!

(after that last part I just realized how stubborn y/n is when it comes to trying to love lmao :p )

💗Taglist!- @plushiesssforcrying @dorkyfangirl24 @lunalov3smoony @yuvany

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 14 - 3 words

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language and fluff

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

waking up knowing your boyfriend and your best friends had been nominated for a grammy was a feeling like no other.

once rafe had texted you the news he came straight over to yours to celebrate together.

"i can't believe it" he screamed as soon as he walked through your door, picking you up in an excited hug.

"me neither baby, i'm so proud of you." you replied in his arms.

he pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes and his face lit up with pure joy. you smiled, running your fingers through his hair, feeling the excitement radiating off him. "you deserve this so much rafe."

he kissed you softly, his lips lingering a little longer than usual, before pulling away with a wide grin. "i couldn't have done it without you, you know that, right?"

you chuckled. "i don’t think that’s true. you’ve been amazing from the start, and you’ve earned every bit of this. but i’m glad i get to share it with you."

he kissed you again, harder this time, full of emotion. "i love you y/n"

"what?"

"i love you so much. so," he kissed you, "so" another kiss, "so much."

you pulled away to look straight into his eyes, making sure your next words would go straight through to him.

"i love you even more rafe."

he smiled, his eyes softening as he held you close. "you don’t know how much that means to me," he whispered, his voice full of raw emotion.

you rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. "i think i do," you murmured. "i think we both know how much this means."

rafe pulled back gently, wiping a stray tear from your cheek, and laughed softly. "i swear, this is the happiest moment of my life."

you grinned. "well, it’s only the beginning, right?"

he nodded, his eyes sparkling, "yeah, just the beginning princess. i'm gonna need a date to the grammys after all."

"well," you said, wrapping your arms back around his neck, "i'm not going anywhere.”

he kissed you one more time - this time with the promise of a future full of more moments like this.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: you guys in my last chapter making me giggle with your trust issues, have a feeling this is only going to fuel them further😝

reminder that reblogging is the best way to support writers <3

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl@4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1 @amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vcnillafairy@bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @kittenjujusblog @bambii1i @thesunflowersociety

[predestinatos]

warm enough for you | CL16 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: charles has a special way of getting under your skin, especially when he insists on staying after the party is over. chapter 1 of an ongoing series.

tags: enemies to lovers, smut with a bit of plot, cocky!charles, bratty!yn

word count: 3.6k

minors dni ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! warnings & note underneath

warnings: smut, drunk (tipsy) sex, oral (f!receiving), penetration, unprotected sex.

author's note: first time attempting at writing smut and posting anything so please keep up with me. currently working on part 2.

Everyone was slowly leaving your apartment, the party reaching its natural end. Bottles were scattered across your living room, but apart from that, the flat was not as messy as expected. The party was more of a get together, given the small venue where you lived.

You were dizzy, the alcohol getting to your head and body, but conscious enough to decide that you could still clean things up before going to sleep. You waited for everyone to leave, and as you were getting ready to finally let out a deep breath you seemed to be holding the whole night, you notice someone standing, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. “Fuck you scared the shit out of me,” you start. His tall figure contrasted with the multicolored shadows of your living room, still dancing to a rhythm that was no longer there.

Then he chuckled. You knew it was him, he did not have to make a sound for you to recognize his frame, the way he always crossed his arms when he looked at you, as if in constant judgment. But if you had any doubts, that sound gave you all the certainty you needed. It was the chuckle he let out before a snarky remark. “I’m sorry, princess, I didn’t know you were so sensitive…” and there it was. The pet name used solely to annoy you, the tone that clarified his only purpose was to get under your skin.

“I would argue with you, but honestly I just want to clean up so please leave, thank you.” It was true. You enjoyed entertaining this back and forth, feeling him getting more and more irritated yet pleased with himself. But you were not in the mood for it, at least not now. Your head was softly spinning and taking your mind off of things is exactly what you need.

As you walk past him to the living room, in an attempt to showcase how you were not going to even acknowledge him, let alone join him in his games, he pushes himself off of the doorframe. “Just thought you could use some help.”

This was ridiculous, and you let out a loud, obnoxious laugh. Since when does he want to help you? Ever since the day you two met, he made it his mission to be as unhelpful as he could, rolling his eyes at everything you said, giving counter arguments to your opinions even if he agreed with them, all whilst smiling towards you with the look of pleasure over someone’s anger. You tried your best to avoid him, but it was impossible to do so, since your friend group was the same. Wherever you went, there he was, and vice versa. Eventually, obviously, you started acting the same way towards him as he did with you, and this just amused your friends even more. That was why he was here, in your apartment. He comes with the friends package, whether you like it or not.

Once again, apart from the laugh, you said nothing else. Instead, you leaned down and started picking up the empty bottles from the floor, whilst the lights kept changing colors from blue to purple to red. To your surprise, you hear him do the same, although he stumbles on himself a bit more than you. “Lightweight” you say, smirking, making your way towards the kitchen to put the bottles in a trash bag. That, and because the silence in the living room was too loud, made it too tight for both of you to fit.

As you placed the empty bottles carefully in the bag, avoiding the loud noise of glass on glass to heighten your soon to come headache, you feel a hand on your waist. His hand. His grip was tight and soft at the same time, sending shivers down your body which contrast with your annoyance. “Excuse me” he said behind you, almost whispering in your ear. His hand left your waist as fast as it got there, an indication of how he was aware you wanted more. “Was this less scary?” he asked, ironically.

You turned to look at him, almost ignoring the fact that you were trapped against the balcony as his body. You could feel his gaze on yours, and while you tried to hold it, you realized you couldn’t. The best you could do was run a hand through your hair in an attempt to disguise the tension running through your body. “You’re such an asshole” you said.

He finally looked away while smiling to himself, staring out the window. You took a second to notice the way his throat bobbed up and down, his hair was messy and careless due to the alcohol on his system which lowered his inhibitions. “You like it though.” Before you could turn away, his gaze stared at your again. His breathing was heavier than usual, the drunken smirk on his face juxtaposing with his furrowed eyebrows and darkened eyes. His face was so close, too close, for you to think straight. You looked at his lips, breaking eye contact once again, letting him win once again. “You wish” was all you could reply.

Without moving, his voice asked in defiance, “so what if I do?” You could feel his eyes exploring your body, his chest rising and falling in deep, steady, too controlled breaths. The red light in the living room shone behind him, highlighting his shape hovering above you. “That’s rich coming from you” you snickered. As much as you were feeling the tension between you both, as much as your teasing and bickering was reaching to a degree of immense repressed desire every time you two were in the same room, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You couldn’t.

The first time you two met, he went out of his way to drunkenly inform you, at a club, that you two “would never happen” and that he “would never fuck you.” To this day you fail to understand where the comment came from, to this day you don’t understand why he hates you so much but insists on making his presence known to you.

At first he seemed confused at your comment, his eyes searching your face for an explanation, but soon enough they widen in realization. Letting out a soft laugh, Charles ran his hands through his hair, making it even messier. “You still think about that?”

It was a ridiculous question, and he knew it. It was hard to hear something like that from someone who you basically had just met, even though he was drunk when he said it. You had not even had time to consider any sort of thing happening between you two and he had already declared it impossible. It seemed unbelievable that someone could be so full of himself to the point of declaring he was not going to bed with you, even before you showed any interest.

You pushed him away softly, and he did not stop you, despite his clear disappointment. That emotion was quickly replaced by a raising of eyebrows as he saw you open the door to the fridge and taking out two cold beers, handing him one. “You don’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, so help yourself.” Was all you could say.

This behavior could be explained by the alcohol running through both of your veins already, by your tiredness over the night, or the sheer need for company you had been needing for a while. You moved towards the living room again, slouching down on the sofa, and you needed not look back to know Charles was following you.

He lifted your legs, which were resting softly on the couch, only to sit down and place them on his lap carefully, with a grin splattered across his face. His side profile revealed a certain rigidness, his jaw tight and tense, but his eyes were soft and calm. “Did you mean it, though?” you asked. You seemed to have interrupted his thoughts, because his expression was lost at your sudden break of silence in the dark room.

“What do you think?” he asked back, never willing to give you the upper hand or satisfaction of a normal conversation. You tried to distract yourself from his cold hand caressing your leg, mostly because you did not know how much of it was intentional. He seemed to be doing it so nonchalantly and carelessly, you wondered if most of it was just instinct.

You tried to calm your voice before you replied, even though the first word that came out of your mouth sounded deeper and higher at the same time, uneven and nervous. “Well- I think, according to what you said that nigh-“ you started, but couldn’t finish. He did not allow you to, interrupting you and turning his face to you for the first time since you two sat down. “I know you’re not that dense, princess.”

Even in the darkly lit room, you felt his gaze burning your skin, focusing on your lips, then your neck. Meanwhile, you stared at his hand, moving slightly up your leg, sending shivers throughout your whole body, shivers you wish he did not notice, but knew, deep down, he was aware of. He knew the effect these had on you, he knew how to please, because that was his reputation. And you hated it at first, hated that he was so confident in his skills and so utterly arrogant about them, but now it only aroused you even more. You took a big sip of your beer, in an attempt to cool your now burning body.

That seemed to remind Charles he was himself holding a bottle of beer in his own hand, because upon seeing you swallow the liquid, he looked at the hand which was holding it. Moving it in order to hold it by the neck, grinning to himself in proud arrogance, he brought it close to your skin, your body hissing in pleasure at the temperature. You closed your eyes and exhaled softly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much this seemingly simple action affected you, but also not wanting him to stop.

He whispered your name, the request for you to look at him implicit in his voice, and you complied. His movements did not stop, a slow game he seemed to be playing with you, in an attempt to see how far he could go. “You look so fucking hot,” he breathed.

Your body was aflame with lust, and so was his, you could tell. You could see him struggling to even speak clearly, to move clearly, trying his best to control his movements which threatened to unleash themselves. “Careful, Charles, you don’t want to break your promise,” you teased, as you slowly moved closer to him, both in defiance of his actions and tempting him to proceed with them.

He freed both of his hands as you placed yourself directly in front of him, sitting on his lap, feeling his erection through his jeans. “You’re making it very hard for me not to do it” he murmured. “Am I?” you asked again. You were feeling bold, enjoying how both of you were toying with the thin line between hate and desire, between forbidden and allowed. Charles merely nodded hungrily, his hands placed on your hips, caressing them softly.

Your pulse quickened at the touch, but also at his greedy and dark expression. You moved your hands towards his shirt, which you start unbuttoning slowly, revealing more and more of his skin slowly. Before you could move to the fourth button, he abruptly grabs a hold of your wrists and pins you to the sofa, underneath his frame. “Stop being such a fucking tease,” he demanded with an aggressive ardor in his voice. With that, he guided your hand which he was still holding towards his erection. You realized the agony he must be in, how his cock must be throbbing underneath those layers of fabric. You felt weak yourself, with an intoxicating need to undress, to ignite the fire that was visibly about to burst into crimson flames.

“You deserve it” you replied with a smirk. It didn’t seem to convince him, this attempt of yours at seeming stronger and unaffected by what was happening. You and him were playing a game but it was getting too real, too intense, too tempting. Letting go of your hand and getting closer to you, his lips mere inches away from yours, he placed a hand between your legs, feeling the pooling wetness growing. Your whole body shuddered at this, a moan escaping your lips and giving you away. “You’re just making it harder for yourself,” he whispered smugly, lips brushing against yours.

Desperately you pulled him in for a kiss. His kiss was filled with intoxicating craving, a groan escaping his lips at the sudden action, his hips grinding against you in frenzied movements. Breaking your kiss, his lips moved towards your neck, softly biting it and leaving wet marks as he kept going down. You undid the knot holding your short dress together, thanking yourself for the easy-access choice of wardrobe.

As he kissed your stomach and paused at your navel, looking up at you as if asking for confirmation. You looked at him and saw how he looked: disheveled and flushed, his cheeks red and messy hair. He looked absolutely mesmerizing, the mix of complete submission but demanding attitude affecting your body through a quickened pulse. You could only nod your permission, finding yourself at a loss of words. He did not hesitate to pull down your lacy underwear, leaving you exposed to him, feeling his warm breath against you. All at once, his lips were exploring your opening, followed by his tongue, moving with ravish.

You cried audibly in pleasure, your back arching against him in untamed pleasure. Unable to hold his own need for pleasure, Charles unzipped his jeans and began stroking himself. His ragged grunts made your body melt in jolts of bliss, and watching him touching himself as he ate you out sent you completely over the edge.

He raised his eyes at you as he kept savoring you, some of his hair sticking to his forehead, his gaze filled with contrasting innocence and total control over you. He pulled his lips away from you, placing himself above your frame, making you look so small in comparison to him. He hovered over you, shirt completely unbuttoned, hand still pleasuring his cock, visibly throbbing with need. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of him, face wet from your juices and his saliva, chest rising and falling incoherently. “I knew you’d love it” he breathed out.

It was admirable, really. How he still teased you and made it his mission to get under your skin, even like this. “That’s all you’ve got?” you replied, eyebrows raised, eyes half closed in unspoken defiance. “You’re jerking yourself off like a desperate teenager and I’m the one ‘loving it’?” you were testing him. Trying to see how much you could push him over the edge, annoy him, how he would take it out on you – or not.

“God you’re such a fucking brat” he hissed, holding your body with ease and turning you around, lying on your stomach. With his knees, he spread your legs apart and positioned himself between them. You felt him lower himself down, preparing yourself to be filled up, to quench the thirst growing at every passing second but- nothing was happening.

“What the fuck-“ you complained, annoyed. It was slightly embarrassing, your frustration over how long he was taking, and when you turned your head around slightly to see what was wrong, you saw that he had won. He was doing it on purpose, despite his own desperation to bury himself inside you. Amused, he chuckled bringing his hand to your back, caressing it as if to ease your pain in mocking comfort. “You have to tell me what you want, princess.”

“You can’t be serious” you hissed back. But he was, and you knew it. You had gotten this far already, and yet he would not let this go, and you did not know why he insisted so much. You had no idea how much it turned him on to see that only he could affect you like he did, to see how much control he had over you.

Rolling your eyes and doing your best at a monocordic voice, you complied “fuck me, Charles.” Yes, you were being bratty and petty, and yes, you would do anything just for him to fill the emptiness you were feeling inside you.

“You’re such a brat,” he growls as he thrusts himself into you. Your instantly arch your back in pain ad pleasure, feeling his whole body vibrating into you with untamed hunger. His hands grip your waist and force you to switch from a lying position to all fours, allowing him to access you easier. He continued his thrusts as he left bites on the back of your neck, and you filled the room with your cries.

He was not being soft or sweet about it. Charles was completely immersed in his need to have you, so much so that he could barely see anything apart from you, back arched in pleasure for him, the switching lights illuminating every curve of your body in sensuous effect. He dreamt about possessing you like this so often, thought about how good you’d feel so many times, that what was happening seemed to him unreal. He felt himself close to coming as you clenched around him, but before he could so, he pulled himself out of you.

 “Not yet,” he started. His voice was husked and lazy, a reflection of how much restraint it was taking him not to fill you up already. You were about to protest, being so close yourself, but as you turned around you found yourself mesmerized by the sight of him. His green eyes were glossy, his face completely flushed and sweaty from withhold pleasure. As you stared at him, he raised an eyebrow and gave you a half-smile. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, doing nothing to fix it, but it didn’t matter. He seemed almost shy about how you were looing at him, which was insane and ridiculous, given what you were doing, what you were.

 “I want to look at you” you said. This caused Charles’ eyes to widen in surprise, not expecting your bluntness. Even you were shocked at what you said and how demanding you sounded, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Holding one of your ankles and placing it on his shoulder, Charles entered you with unleashed violence, his gazed interlocked with yours. You thought about how pornographic the view must be for him as well, your swollen lips, some tears of pleasure running through your cheeks, and a sloppy smile plastered across your face. You feel absolutely lightheaded, almost drunk with ecstasy. “Putain, j'aime quand tu me regardes comme ça” he said, French escaping his lips as he loses all capacity to form coherent thoughts. This just made your pulse quicken, your skin bursting with fulfillment.

 His pace fastened even more, as he grunted and throbbed with how good he felt inside you. “Your cunt feels so fucking good” he kept repeating, his eyebrows furrowed as if attempting to delay his orgasm. “Charles, I- I’m gonna cum” you try telling him, between breaths and moans. “Fuck, fuck, look at me” he demanded, holding your face so it wouldn’t move away from his gaze. With that, you erupted in pleasure, completely undone beneath him, body trembling.

The view was so overwhelming, Charles couldn’t help but come as well, filling you up with fervent ardor, his body falling limply on top of yours. He remained there, his breathing uneven and erratic, just like yours.

You both lost track of time as you lay there, together. You could have fallen asleep like that, maybe you had, there was no way to tell. He felt warm and comfortable against you, and you felt so close and secure to him that neither of you dared to move.

After a while, his fingers starting drawing small, invisible designs on your still sensitive skin, causing you to giggle. For some time, you two just existed together with nothing else retraining your behavior, your own hands playing with his soft hair, a tired smile on his face.

You wake up with light filling your living room, giving you momentary blindness. The headache was done with its threat to show up, now attacking you with full force, limiting your movements and thoughts. Despite everything, you remembered the night before. Even if you did not, there was evidence that something had happened – or, better, there wasn’t any, and that’s what caught your attention.

The living room was pristine and looked untouched. You were fully dressed in some comfortable clothes, and the TV was on despite the fact that its volume was almost fully off. It seemed as if this was an ordinary day, but you knew it wasn’t.

You grabbed your phone and stared at its screen empty of any sort of texts, notifications or messages. Nothing to prove the night before. You knew it was a mistake to do so, but you couldn’t help typing out the text:

To: Charles (Asshole) Hey, got home safe? (11:33am)

All you got back was a small text underneath yours, which said “Read (11:47)”

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.13. TEAM DICK

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . pop star by coco & clair clair

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

i tried so hard to cut it down AND I DID to 18 photos (by making some screenshots longer) and then added gossip girls to the end and got back to 21 photos but i hope u guys enjoyed this chapter </33

kenma literally hasn't spoken a word out loud since y/n left

if goldfish meows at him kenma just stares back

iwa did in fact sit in an extra chair while yn got princess treatment with suna's fancy pc and fancy gamer chair

suna played next to her and they'd both periodically breakdown laughing bc of how hard his old laptop's fan was running trying to process minecraft

iwa and tsukki both didn't play mainly bc they didn't have a device to play on and also didn't want to get involved but i know tsukishima was watching noya too

kageyama stans all cows and i will never not accept that he adores cows

hinata brought minecraft up to him asking if he wanted to play and kageyama was like "what is minecraft? what do you do."

hinata said, "you mine and craft. and you can have pet dogs and take care of cows"

kageyama immediately googled minecraft cows and found mooblooms and wanted to play just to see them but found out with a little bit more research that they were never added to the game </3

I GAVE UP TRYING TO ADD STATS TO ALL THE LIVE TWEETING AND I HOPE THAT IS UNDERSTANDABLE BC I WAS NOT ABOUT TO GO THINKING ABOUT NUMBERS FOR EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE REPLIES

suna took "when i see kenma it's on sight" literally

also he wanted kenma's stone axe

kuroo has not gotten a dog yet in this minecraft world </3 noya tried barking for him though before everyone told him to stop

oikawa took y/n with him to get flowers not even planning to completely split up from the other group but it's what happened and y/n wasn't complaining because she did NOT want to be around kenma

iwa and oikawa texted the gossip girls gc at the exact same time and oikawa started freaking out more after iwa's text

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @skylarkalchemist @kunimix @sereniteav @kodzubaby @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @r0seandth0rns @gsyche @kitnootkat @seillarium @tamimemo @myromanempiree @coldcigarette @eclipticnikki @squiishymeow @vivian-555 @cryptictheseus @eclecticeggknightpsychic @kodzukein @kawaii-angelanne @luvly-writer @kodzuken-hoe @kodzuken88 @bookworm-center @theweirdfloatything @glitch-karma @spicana

[leclercss]

Paris, je t'aime (Charles Leclerc), Part 3

Masterlist

plot: it's almost three years since your tumultuous relationships with Lewis and Charles came crashing down. but you find your self in a new city with new beginnings and new ways to fuck up your love life. that's no thanks to a cheeky frenchman who's set you up on a double date with someone oh so familiar.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating, violence and some swearing

authors note: part trois, enjoy. i have been awol, i'm sorry. i literally wrote this and accidentally deleted my draft. fml. this chapter is going to focus on Charles' perspective of the break up. it may explain a lot of his feelings, i hope you enjoy

word count: 5.2k

taglist: @toppersjeep @janeholt3, @princess-siba, @nichmeddar, @tremendousandsonorouswords, @cmleitora, @victoriaholland, @amalialeclerc, @queensofshinigamis, @tempo-rary-fix, @starmanv, @happylittlereader, @trouble-sistar, @lightdragonrayne, @persephonemv1, @dreamingofautopia

*Charles POV*

As the sun peaks through the curtains and hits my face, I find myself rolling over in bed. It's been three years since we've shared a bed, but it's almost instinct for arm to reach out to [Y/N] and for me to wrap around her body. Only this time, my arm finds itself falling onto the mattress.

Confused, I open my eyes to find that the space in the bed beside me is no longer occupied. She's no longer in the bed and all that Charles is left with is the scent of her perfume that has lingered onto the sheets and a small piece of paper with some writing.

I pick up the note in my hand, feeling dread that [Y/N] found yesterday all a little bit too much and she's decided that she doesn't want to see me any more.

’ I promise I’m not running away this time, I just think that we both deserve the chance for a clear head in the morning.

I’m so grateful that I got the chance to see you again.

Amour xxx ’

A small sense of reliefs courses its way through my body but I don't feel any better at the fact that she's no longer in the bed beside me. I don't want a clear head because how is that possible? Because as I fell asleep, last night, with [Y/N] in my arms, all I could think about is how much of the last three years of my life had been a lie. But it wasn't a lie, because the last time I saw her almost feels like yesterday, and I remember it so well.

*3 years ago*

“Lewis is moving to New York," [Y/N] blurts out.

"He's moving to New York?" I ask. My eyebrows furrow at her comment, it wasn't what I was expecting [Y/N] to say, after all I had just suggested that maybe we find our own place in the near future. But hey, if Lewis wants to move to another continent, this was even better in my eyes. Hell, I'd even be willing to drive him to the airport if it meant that he could get out of our lives quicker.

No more hidden moments, no more sneaking around. We could just be us. We're good together and sure, it's been an unconventional journey, but I know that [Y/N] is worth it.

I'm still staring down at [Y/N] as she looks up at me before nodding. I can't help but smile down at her and take her hand in mine. We've had many intimate moments together, but what we've just shared has felt the most raw yet.

Fuck, I wanted her to choke me, I've never felt this crazy in love with a woman before. I'd cut my heart open for her.

"That's good, right?"

I notice [Y/N] gulp before she answers, "He's moving in a few weeks".

I nod. That's not too bad. It's not ideal for her living situation but we can and will figure this out.

"Okay, well if you need somewhere to stay, you can always stay here. We'll figure it out, okay? We'll get somewhere of our own if you want? But the important thing is, we can be together".

'Charles..."

"What’s wrong, amour?"

I try to ignore the shiver that runs through by body, ignoring all the red flags being waves, as [Y/N] lets out a sigh before closing her eyes. Okay, maybe moving in together is a little bit too much to ask but shouldn't she be happier that she's finally ending her sham of a marriage?

I'm still looking down at [Y/N] as I'm trying to figure out what's going on her head. Her hand is still in mine but it's now limp, lifeless. I thought she would be happier than this but maybe the ending of her marriage is much more complex than I thought. Maybe she's actually going to miss this guy? Is she sad that it's ending? Surely not, right?

"I... I ... Lewis is going to New York and he wants me to go with him".

Silence falls between the two of us as I've tried to process what [Y/N] just told me. My ears begin to ring and I'm questioning if what I've heard is actually real.

"And you told him no, right?" I ask. I almost feel stupid asking her this because to me, the answer is so obvious. But a few moments have now passed and the longer that she lays there, her limp hand in mine, the more nervous I become. I notice her chest to begin rising and falling. Rising and falling. It's getting quicker by each second and I'm not so sure about anything any more.

She looks guilty and nervous. Why hasn't she answered me yet?

"Amour, you told him no, right?" Charles asks again, this time there's a desperate tone to my voice. "I mean, you're not wearing your rings?"

But there's nothing that is coming from [Y/N]'s mouth and I almost feel like I'm having an outer body experience. She's seriously going to go? After everything?

I think I'm going to throw up.

But I love her, how could she...

No fuck this. Fuck this entirely. Fuck him and you know what, fuck her!

She still hasn't had the balls to answer me, sitting there, looking all innocent and shell shocked. She's just let me make love to her, let me bare my soul and show her my most intimate desires only to tell me that she's not only ending things with me but she's moving. Moving to New York of all places and with him? The man who has not only attempted to humiliate me on many ocassions, but has humiliated her for years.

The longer I look at her, the more I feel my heart breaking but also, the angrier I become. How could she do this to me, to us?

She's probably seeing every expression on my face that I'm experiencing. I'm not trying to hide it. Anger, confusion, heartbreak, regret, despair. But she's not reacting to any of it.

Surely this is a joke or else I'm the fucking joke? How could I have been so stupid?

My brain can't keep up with my body because before I can even realise it, I throw myself out from under the duvet cover. A couple of her discarded clothes lay in a pool by my feet as I swing them out of the bed. Picking them up, I throw them towards her on the bed behind me.

She still says nothing.

"You've got some fucking nerve, you know that right?" I spit as I begin to charge around the room, finding any of her belongings that I can and throwing them in her direction.

"Excuse me?"

My head snaps around in the direction of the bed, almost instinctively, as I try not to laugh at the surprise in her voice. Our eyes make contact and she flinches at the anger so prominent on my face.

"You're kidding me, right?"

But she's not joking. No, she still has this innocent look on her face, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I don’t understand," she mutters.

I scoff as I continue to pace around the room, not being able to listen to this any more.

"I get it, [Y/N]," he growls. [Y/N] flinches at my tone, cowering further under the duvet. "You got your wish. You finally got your husband to notice that you exist and for him to pretend like he even cares about you. He's finally going to stop fucking other girls for you. Congratulations. I'm really happy for you."

"No, you've misunderstood," [Y/N] pleads but I dismiss her.

"You know, if you wanted me to just fuck you once as revenge for your husband, I would have been more than happy to. But this sick game you've played, making me fall in love with you. I don't know how you can look at yourself in the mirror," I continue, spit almost spraying out of my mouth from the anger.

I didn't even notice [Y/N] climb out of the bed until I feel her hand gently on my arm.

"Charles, it's not like that. I'm not," she begins but she stops once I pull my arm away from her.

"Get off me," I mumble but she ignores me. Her hand finds it's way onto my arm once again.

"Charles, listen to me," she squeals but it's no use, I have no capacity for her excuses or lies any more.

"I said get off me," I growl, this time a little louder and she takes the blatant hint but she won't stop talking.

"Charles, you've got it all wrong".

I turn around to face her as my eyes bore through her skin with nothing but anger and hatred. Venom is brewing inside of me as she looks up at me with tearful eyes. A couple have spilled over onto her cheeks. Looking at her like this, it breaks me. It fucking hurts but all I can think about is what she's put me through and I have to push my sympathy aside.

"No, [Y/N], the only thing I've gotten wrong is trusting you. You know what, you and Lewis are made for each other. Users, liars and cheaters, that's what you are".

I think I've gone too far. Shit, that was too far but as I watch her burst into tears and try to grab onto me, pleading with me to stop and that it's all a big mistake, I know I can't take it back now.

I don't want to do this what I do next, but I can't stop myself.

"My friends were right about you," it's the first time since she's broken the news that she's moving to New York where there hasn't been anger in my voice. I almost find myself wincing at the look on [Y/N]'s face as my words cut her deeply. I've hit an insecurity of hers. My friends never trusted her. How could I ever trust someone so open to cheating on their husband? They thought I was a moron. They'd always questioned her story, was this entire story of Lewis being a cheating asshole even real? Was it just her excuse for me to so willingly sleep with her?

Honestly, I don't know. I don't even know what's really any more.

She sniffles, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "You really think that, Charles?"

No, I don't.

"I think... I think you should leave".

It takes her a moment before she nods. Picking the clothes up from the bed, that I'd thrown at her, she begins to put them onto her body which is now trembling.

Part of me is telling me that I'm being stupid, that it's all a mistake. I can't bare to watch her get ready and leave, almost accepting defeat.

I take one last look at her before leaving my bedroom and making my way to the living room. I won't watch her walk out of that door, because if I do, I think I'll try to stop her.

As I wait on the sofa, staring at the wall opposite me, I feel like I can hear my heart breaking into pieces, one by one. And it's only when I heard the front door close, that they all finally shatter at once.

*Present Day*

I can't tell you how many times I had thought about this day over the last three years. At least once a day. No word of a lie. My final moments with [Y/N] infiltrated every part of my life. Every time I went to bed, I had thought about her and her betrayal. Almost every day that I woke up, I felt the weight on my chest from the memory of her tears on that very day. She even appeared in my dreams, where that day never happened and went on to live our happily ever after. And more often than that, she appeared in my nightmares.

My mind was constantly taunting me and it didn't help that my best friends kept reminding me of my many mistakes and my poor errors in judgement but worst of all, how shitty of a person they had thought [Y/N] was. And while I wanted to agree with them, deep down I felt like this all had to be a lie. Because after everything that we had gone through, surely she couldn't have been faking it.

But when one day, a few months later, when Joris came home from a date with Whitney, he almost couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He had news to share.

"You don't have to worry about her any more," he told me, "she's gone now."

I tried to ignore the pain that I felt in my chest. I couldn't show Joris any more how badly this affected me. He'd been going ballistic at me for weeks already. "She moved then?"

"Yeah, Whitney said she went last Friday," Joris could hardly contain his happiness. "It's about time. Now you can move on and forget about her."

I nod as if I'm I'm agreeing with the idea of moving on. And I try, but it's just not enough because everything in London reminds me of her. I feel suffocated here and so I spend a few weeks back home in Monaco, but my mother senses that something is wrong and wants to get to the bottom of my moodiness and so I decide that maybe being back in Monaco won't give me the peace that I need right now.

But then, out of the blue, an old childhood friend on mine, Pierre, messages to say he'll be in Monaco that weekend and we meet up. Pierre felt like a guardian angel at the time, not that I would ever tell him that, but spending a weekend in Monaco with him felt refreshing to spend some time with someone who wasn't his family, wasn't his friends back in London or anyone who had some sort of connection to [Y/N].

And after not seeing each other for years, Pierre and I kept in touch, which ultimately led me to move to Paris. I thought it would help you know, make me forget about her.

In some ways it helped, I no longer had nightmares about her. I still often fell asleep to the thought of her, and I still woke up thinking about her. My chest began to feel less heavy as time passed. And it almost began to feel like she wasn't real any more because she was no longer in the same country or even on the same continent.

She was gone, and she was never coming back to me.

The only time she had ever felt real was when I was sleeping with other girls. I went on some kind of sex rampage when I moved to Paris, finding any girl possible to occupy my mind and body with but clearly it wasn't working. As I fucked them, I sometimes imagined that they were her, and that it was her that was in my arms again, it was her that was trembling and moaning beneath me. But it wasn't her, it was never her.

Until now.

I've never really believed in fate, but I'm finally starting to believe that it's a funny thing. I will never forget the feeling I had felt when Pierre had shown me her picture. Out of all the three billion women in the world, he'd set me up with my ex, if I could even call her that.

And it felt like my time had come, for redemption, for revenge and for some answers. Because now, after all this time, she's real again. She's in Paris and she's here. It was time.

But now, after last night, I'm beginning to question everything, because every part of my life for the last three years has been a total lie.

[Y/N] had never betrayed me and I don't know how to feel about it all.

My running thoughts are interrupted by my phone pinging on the beside table. I take a moment to stretch out before rolling over to see the message that's on my phone.

"So did you fuck or not?'

I can't help but laugh at Pierre's message.

"Morning to you too"

"Morning, did you fuck or not?'

'I don't kiss and tell, Pierre".

'Liar! So you fucked then. Congratulations'

Before I can even respond, Pierre texts again.

'Jokes aside, what do you think? Do you want to see her again?'

[ddreamywitch]

Chapter One - Dinner and Diatribes

knight!benjicot blackwood x princess!reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: benji is (hot and) bothered, probably inaccurate depiction of knighting ceremonies

song: Dinner & Diatribes - Hozier

a/n: I only fleetingly proofread this, please excuse any mistakes <3

prologue

It is a swelteringly hot day.

Humid, stale air presses down upon the kingdom, torturing anyone who dared to venture to so much as lift a finger.

Weather like this is not made for exciting endeavours.

In fact it is made for remaining in a shaded area, or within the castle walls or in the cool waters of the sea, but you are not granted any such indulgences today.

Your handmaiden, Marion, winces at your gasp for air. “I am sorry, princess. Would that I could spare you this, but a lady of your status simply cannot leave her chambers without a corset.”

You smile at her reflection in the mirror. “It is not your fault, dear. I shall suffer the confines of a corset, just as the common folk suffer their afflictions. ‘Tis but a small price to pay for a lavish dinner.”

Marion returns your smile but it does not look at all convinced, rather than dread-filled.

She does know her princess well, after spending many years in your service and loyally devoted. She knows when you are happy and she knows you as you are now, which is decidedly unhappy and yet determined to convince your surroundings of the opposite.

Marion does not understand why you always are so insistent upon these matters, she figured you might be a little less ashamed to be honest with your handmaiden, who had seen you bare after all.

But Marion also does not understand how hard it is to be outwardly emotional after being taught over and over, for years and years, that you may do nothing but smile tepidly and sit prettily.

You let her finish the lacing of your corset and briefly you clutch the back of your vanity chair. “God be good, that I might survive in this merciless warmth,” you mutter through a haphazard giggle.

Your handmaiden directs your gaze at your dresses. “I have picked out your simplest gowns, princess, should you think them fit for the occasion?”

A knighting ceremony has never happened in the time she had worked for you.

Or they have, but you were simply not the one to be doing the knighting, so the question of the wardrobe did feel rather overwhelming, with nothing to go off of.

Your head tilts slightly to the side as you take them all in and though you can feel your heart, in your now uncomfortably squashed ribcage, scream out for a thin and modest dress, you know deep down that it would be much better to wear something more precious.

To your knowledge, a fair share of the nobles were to attend this little festivity.

A sigh escapes you and you shake your head. “Might you fetch me the gown with the flowers embroidered? I do believe the king would like me to make a good impression upon our visitors tonight, it would be about due time that he attempted to convince me of marriage once again.”

This time Marion’s smile seems genuine, at the light ridicule of your father. “I shall see to it, princess. In the meantime, I think Ser Rodrick would like to bid you his goodbyes.”

You cannot help the pain this causes you. The notion of having to part ways with your former knight did not sit well with you at all.

Your robe drapes around you and the door creaks open.

Marion is always impossibly quick and quiet. She flits through the castle not much unlike a little mouse and you do not even know in which moment she leaves.

Whereas Ser Rodrick with his ever imposing silhouette was not ever subtle.

Your gaze meets his in your mirror and you think that you could weep right then. He seems to share this idea.

“I wish I were but a few years younger, princess, so that I could remain by your side a little longer.”

There is a thick clot in your throat, so thick that you may choke on it. “You’ve performed your duties beautifully,” you say, fighting tooth and nail against the tears threatening to spill.

Slowly you turn to face your sworn protector.

A man like Ser Rodrick, you found, is hard to come by. His kindness and honour seeks its match and after the many years together, he had long transcended his position and become more of a confidant, dare I say, friend instead.

He had known you from a sticky, wild childhood, through the years of your growth until now.

Long gone is the babe he was sworn to protect, with its clumsy movements and relentless howling, replaced by what you are now; the realm’s delight, a fair young woman, grown into the shape of a dedicated princess.

He bows his head down. “I shall miss you dearly, princess.”

Your laugh is a watery, wet thing. “Oh, you shall not. I will write you many letters. Your retirement shall not be as peaceful as you think, my good Ser.”

The setting sun reflects in the shine of his armour, a chest plate painted hues of gold and orange in this light. It bears the sigil of your father’s house and it heaves now with his heavy breathing.

“Your brother has asked me for guidance on who to pick and I put forward the youngest Lord Mormont. A northerner with a northerner’s honour.”

You nod, fingers fiddling with the belt of your robe, fiddling to find the right words now but they do not come to you and so you remain silent.

There could not be a good replacement for your knight, how could anyone ever understand you again, the way that Ser Rodrick had.

“Child, do not fret. I am away from court, not from the world,” he says. “And I shall reply to your letters with great pleasure.”

“How come you are not to be at the ceremony? Should my old protector not be there to see me off to my new one?”

Rodrick shrugs. “It is the way of tradition. I will be dismissed by your father and leave the court in mere moments.”

It is unfair really, it is almost embarrassing to you, to insult Rodrick and have him retire, like an old horse, as though he is no longer a capable fighter.

It had come as a bit of a surprise to you as well, not much of a warning of any kind had been given to you, before your father informed you not even a week ago of this rather drastic change.

The thought that you were to share every waking moment with a stranger bothered you relentlessly.

You cross the room quickly, manners and protocol thrown to the wind as you throw your arms around your knight’s neck.

It is awkward and tense, his iron and steel exterior boring into your soft flesh, but nonetheless he does not pull away, offering you comfort the best he can.

You are the third born child of the king, and though it was undeniable how popular you were at court and with the smallfolk, your father did not care much.

You were not an heir or a spare, you simply were there and as you bent and broke yourself to garner his attention, it was Ser Rodrick who would look down at the flushed cheeks you so often donned as a child and impose his gentleness on you.

As you grew you found yourself wondering how much the blood in your veins meant, what it mattered that the king had put you into your mother’s womb, when it was somebody else who you found yourself in the care of.

“Oh dearest, your mother would be so overcome with delight at the sight of you today,” he whispers when you finally pull back, one large rough hand on your shoulder. “What a marvellous person you’ve become.”

The hurt and love in your heart intermingle and threaten to burst through its seams. The gripping force in your neck does not fade and so, to the best of your abilities, you inhale a deep breath.

“You must visit soon, Ser Rodrick. Whenever you’ve grown sick of spending your days lazing about,” you attempt at a jest.

He shoves at you a little bit. “And you must remain out of trouble. At least for a few weeks.”

You huff. “I am nothing short of a saint.”

“You are,” he says. “You truly are.”

You dare not let the tears spill from your eyes and you dare not look into his, where you are sure you will find the same sheen as in yours.

“I must go, but rest assured a piece of me remains with you.“

In the most royal demeanour and grace you can muster, you curtsy to him. “I am indebted to you forever, Ser Rodrick.”

He kisses the back of your hand, unmarred and soft against his, not a speck of dirt beneath your well-kempt nails. “Farewell for now.”

You do not wish to say farewell and so you do not. You would see him again after all, at least on your birthday, you would certainly see to it.

Silently you watch him leave you behind and though you know that you are not truly without protection, you do wonder who else at court would ever be so honest and gracious with you again.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You regret not having given into your desires, the moment you put on this wretched ball gown.

Though the sun is almost entirely gone now, its force still lingers in the air and you think you may be strangled by it.

With great urgency you cling to your wine chalice, about the third pour deep in hopes of ridding yourself of your sweaty discomfort.

It was a wonderful gown, a pale green shade, its bodice and hems embroidered with rosy flowers. The king always liked you in these distinctly girlish dresses, the perfect picture of an obedient and compliant daughter.

He sits to your right, drunk and distracted by his latest mistress next to him.

Lady Cathcart, a notorious sinner, as many liked to say.

Marion had once told you that Lady Cathcart was an expert at fellatio. You do not know what that means, but you assume it could only be of immoral nature.

Bile rises at the sight of them, unapologetic and public shame brought to your mother’s memory.

You avert your eyes and redirect them to your brother next to you.

His attire clashes with yours, a dark purple, not at all youthful and much more suitable for the heir to the throne. He looks just as annoyed as you feel, though you’ve gone to great lengths to hide it.

“Tristan?” You tap your chalice against his.

He breaks out of his reverie with wide eyes. “Sister.”

“When is the ceremony to begin?”

With nervous eyes he scans the room. It bustles with gowns and nobles and servants. “Not much longer,” he somehow ascertained through the sight of this. “Why do you ask?”

“I would like to be excused for a few moments,” you explain and your brother does not question why.

He was often a very crass and forward young man, but he did harbour a certain softness to his younger sister. With the wave of a hand he gives you permission and you do not wait any longer, your chair screeching across the floor immediately.

Fingers curled around your skirt layers, you make haste for the gardens, lest you fall unconscious before you get there.

It was too late to change your dress now, so the sweet solace of the royal gardens would have to serve you as an opportunity for a breath of air.

Air that wasn’t stained with the ladies’ expensive perfumes or the intense spices of dinner.

Air that wasn’t tainted with your father’s misbehaviour.

Your breathing had become quite laboured and you cursed the extravagance of your family, especially now, as your gown had become your body’s prison.

Guards open the doors and the moment you are out of prying eyes you drop into the grass beneath you.

It is no longer soft and ticklish, the way it had been a few short weeks ago, in the wakes of spring. The harshness of summer had turned it coarse and mean against your exposed arms.

It is not very suitable to lay around on the ground like this, but the stars above are spinning and you feel you could have died if you spent a moment longer upright.

Lord Mormont, you think to yourself. A very quiet man, your senior by a few years. You had only spoken with him fleetingly and never about anything of great interest, to either of you, you assumed.

It leaves you wondering whether he would become this constant distanced force in her life. Not only a protector but also somebody who would keep her in line.

In your many years with Ser Rodrick, you had worked out a rhythm with him. You had gotten used to one another and therefore, after so many hours spent together, a strong foundation of trust rests beneath your friendship. He had never chastised you for your shortcomings as princess, he had let you venture outside the castle walls with Marion and had not uttered a single word to your family.

You’re not sure that Lord Mormont would be so tolerant. Northerners were notoriously serious about their duties, he does not seem like the type to take lightly to things like this.

With your face turned upward to the moon and your mind racing, you do not hear the approaching footsteps until it is too late.

A face leans above you.

The young man has a crooked sort of look to him, not as princely as the faces you are accustomed to.

A scar graces his lip, accompanied by a bend in the slope of his nose.

Princes and noblemen rarely carried traits like this, he looks rather common.

Right now he also looks at you, rather confused.

“Looking for anything down there,” he teases as heat shoots into your cheeks, more than the high temperatures had already caused.

You sit up, fumbling to straighten your appearance at least a little bit, the rash movement sending you back into your previous state of low-level vertigo.

The man does not think to offer you a hand and you are once again taken aback by his…commonness.

“What is a lady like you doing, tumbling around in the gardens at night?”

His hands land on his hips.

Maybe he was the stable boy of one of the Lords that were visiting.

His clothing reveals no sigils to you, a simple black attire with a red cape.

No, he could not be highborn.

“What, cat got your tongue?”

Your eyes widen at the realisation that you are simply sitting there, not speaking.

“I felt a bit faint,” you explain. “Would you offer me a hand, young man?”

His brow raises a little but he extends one to you anyways.

Like Rodrick's, his hand is witness to hard labour, again a stark contrast to yours.

Unlike Rodrick though, he grips you with more force, all but yanking you upwards. Nausea brews in you.

“I thank you,” you mumble. What a queer young man.

He is more brave than a servant, to address you so haphazardly.

He grunts in lieu of a real answer.

“Tell me, what’s this place like? Seems like a fucking shitshow so far.”

It clicks then. He does not know that you are the princess. He thinks you to be of a lower house. It would make sense, with the position he found you in but your appearance surely does not speak to that of a lower house.

Men are always so indifferent to these details, they do not realise their worth.

You clear your throat. “Well, the royal family is rather kind. And there are many feasts and festivities held here. It can be quite interesting,” you say.

He shakes his head. “´Course you’d say that,” he mutters just beneath his breath.

You cross your arms. “What do you imply?”

“You capital people are all the fucking same. Insufferable flatterers.”

It is not often that people speak so frankly to you. You are not sure whether that might be why his words offend you or because he is simply wrong.

“I am no flatterer.”

His nose scrunches. “Yeah? You’ve never seen the princess and doused her in compliments? Never made eyes at her boring brother?”

“I would have you know that her brother is not boring and the princess is a very humble person. She does not care much for feigned niceties.”

“Sure. Whatever you say, birdy.” He lets the name roll over his tongue like it is a term of endearment, delicious and something to relish in.

Now you take a step back. “Watch who you are speaking to, you fool.”

He does not seem troubled by your reaction, lets one hand run through his wild dark hair. “And who is that?”

“A lady. You would do good in learning the pillars of chivalry.”

He laughs, bitterly and full of sarcasm. “Oh trust me I know chivalry and I know it well.”

The garden feels different now, charged with an energy you could not quite put your fingers on. He seems an iresome lad and you decide that you needn’t handle such treacherous behaviour displayed in front of you.

What a fool he is, to speak so lewdly of your family in the very heart of your father’s kingdom.

“Well then, you should learn to mind your tongue. This is no place for words as yours,” you spit and once more grip the skirts of your dress. “I shall bid you goodnight.”

He does not do the same, you think you even see him roll his eyes before you turn your back to him.

It is the curse of manhood to always think they have a right to something. It is what leads them into violence and wars and their own demise.

Women are not troubled with such foolery, women are taught to keep their mouths shut and they hold the wisdom of listening in high regard. It is why they always know the secrets of the castle before any of the Lords hear of it.

You cannot help but shake off your head at this rude intrusion of your peace, this imbecilic attitude.

He would learn his lesson soon enough, he would not make the same mistake unscathed with any other courtiers.

Before you enter again you reach into your hair, checking to see whether it had fallen apart in your short time on the ground, but Marion is too good at her job. Despite hours of dancing or riding or windy weather, it seems that no hair falls amiss no matter how intricate or complicated the style.

A blind man could have picked you out as the princess, you are sure of it.

Huffing and puffing with anger, you drop back into your seat next to your brother, willing this god-forsaken day to finally come to its end.

Your brother ushers a servant to refill your cup. “Are you quite alright?”

“I think my corset is laced too tight and my closest friend has left the city but other than that, I am splendid,” you reply, a misdirected hit of venom toward your innocent brother.

He nudges you with shoulder. “Are you not excited about meeting your new knight? I’ve heard great tales of him.”

You shake your head no and gulp down the sweet wine in a hurry. “I cannot imagine.”

“What? He’s more a myth than a man.”

Liquid goes down the wrong pipe and you nearly choke. “Mormont? In what world?” You ask, entirely incredulous.

Tristan’s eyes widen. “Father has not told you?”

Your eyes tell him to be honest with himself. When has their father ever given you the graciousness of staying informed? He hadn’t even told you of your mother’s death, leaving it to your oldest sister to do so. It does not come as a surprise that once again you are left in the dark about matters that directly concern you.

“It is not Lord Mormont. Father attempted to create peace in the Riverlands,” Tristan begins to explain.

An odd feeling of dread creeps into your bones. “And?”, you inquire, voice taunt but before your brother manages to get out an answer, your father rises.

He is drunk, he sways softly from side to side and you can see his Lady Cathcart’s fingers curl around his leg in an attempt to keep him steady. The room falls quiet, eager to hear their monarch speak.

Insufferable flatterers, the young man pierces your thoughts again.

Some bit of skin is pinched, right beneath your breast and it sends a sharp pain down your side when you straighten your back once more, harsh enough to leave you distracted.

It is odd, you cannot seem to find clarity today, your thoughts distant and flimsy, like water in your hands.

“A special honour shall be bestowed on one of you young lads. The honour of protecting the sanctity of our kingdom's delight, my beloved daughter,” King Alexander boomed, the slightest hint of slur to his words.

Polite claps follow suit and beneath the table you begin to twist the rings on your fingers.

“Now, our council has given great thought to our choice and we are certain that we have picked the most suitable man in the kingdom, for his reputation exceeds him.”

Whispers flood the room and it takes much of your self-constraint to not take your brother’s hand like a little child.

“Benjicot Blackwood, shall be sworn in, in our midst, tonight.”

Bloody Ben.

Tristan is right. There’s many tales to be told of the heir of Raventree, none of which have anything to do with knighthood and to you, all of them are terrifying. A man like that to watch over you with hawkeyes.

You would have much preferred the stoic Lord Mormont.

You swallow thickly.

“My dearest shall knight him herself.”

Your father has not looked at you yet, perhaps he does know that he will face nothing but contempt. He is a drunkard but he is a king and perhaps even a good one and it does take at least somewhat of a brain to be one.

You blinked, once, twice and then you smiled—a practised smile, not much alike to a real one—and got up.

The lightness in your head leaves your periphery blinded, but you have learned after many years of life under the watchful eyes of the nobility, to not stumble, no matter your state and with graceful steps you walk around the table reserved for the highest ranks.

Well, and Lady Cathcart.

Your knees bend very deeply before your father as his sword slices the air.

Nobody thinks to keep you up to date, but nobody needs to tell you about things like this. The manners and the conduct of behaviour at court are ingrained into your brain.

You do not have to be told when to bow or when to rise.

The sword is heavier than expected, it quivers a bit in your hold when your father passes it across the table to you.

It’s gorgeous, with engravings along its blade, flowery gardens, lush hills, stormy seas, it shines in the candlelit hall.

The grand doors creak upon and you cannot bear it any longer, you whirl around, all dizziness ignored, impatient to see the legendary bloody Ben.

At the end of the path he stands, simple black clothes, dark red cape and crooked nose.

Your jaw drops, only by a little.

From the distance parting you, you can’t be certain but Benjicot Blackwood looks about as surprised as you.

He shouldn’t be surprised, you think, he should be worried.

The sword is still awkward in the gip of both of your hands, but the face you make is practised.

Marion had once compared it to Rodrick’s steel armour.

It takes the man a torturously long time to finally reach you, each step dragged as though something was pulling him the other way.

He looks at you, like he wishes to challenge you, but he kneels, not with poise, moreso dropping before you like a sack of potatoes.

Through strands of hair he peaks up at you and it is a funny little turn, you wonder what you must have looked like looking up at him in the garden

Solemnly you clear your throat.

“ Wilt thou, upon this day, pledge thy fealty to the House Aprikate, and stand as a Knight of the Crown?” Your voice drips with an authority that feels strange on your tongue, an unfamiliar power vested in you.

“Yes, your grace.”

You almost feel bad for him, it does not seem so honourable to be kneeling like this, head firmly directed down, so clearly beneath you for everyone to see.

“Doth thou wish to abandon thy self, and be sword and shield for the sake of the greater good?”

This time he pauses a little longer. “Yes, your grace.”

You lift the sword from where you hold it against your mid, slowly and pray to god and all his saints that the tremble of your hand is not too noticeable.

With much tenderness you touch upon each of his shoulders.

“I do hereby dub thee, Benjicot Blackwood, knight of honour. May your courage and devotion become a shining example throughout all the land.”

And so it is done, your chest constricting and heart writhing within. You cannot say what it is that pushes you over the edge, but you see the way he looks at you, as though you have damned him to hell on earth.

Something jolts down your spine and finally your arduous work of remaining composed unravels, darkness cloaking your sight.

A gasp reverberates, mayhaps yours, but you are unconscious before your body tumbles to the ground.

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 8 : Baby Bat Visits

Damian trying to behave as much as possible in the Baxter's Home

[𝚆𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚛]

"I know what I want and I know what I must do. The Boy Called me Adorable and so I shall live up to that title for today." Damian(12) says as he hops i

Onto the Car seat and Dick absolutely just laughing because of how excited and soft Damian had gotten and also nearly pleading Bruce to go to the Baxter's Manor. Damian was sitting neatly in the passengers seat and holding the paper bag of cookies that he's to bring to the Baxter's Manor for the others.

"Fasten Your Pace Grayson." Damian glared at him and he wheezes slowly and starts the car. "Cya B. Guess this is Damian's First Playdate WITHOUT a weapon." Dick jokes and Bruce sighs, "Please don't... Try to kill anyone.." he says in exhaustion. "Yeah Don't try to kill anyone you Baby Gremlin." Tim scoffs and Damian glared at him. "I have more self control than you think I Do Drake. Atleast I don't drink coffee past the Legal Caffeine Intake. And Besides that Boy is the one to bring you home like a princess 3 days ago. He's a good man for bringing you home with that soft blanket." Damian scoffs and Tim just huffing slightly and walking back inside.

Dick started up the car and Bruce Waved goodbye slightly and same with Alfred. Damian hesitantly and subtly waved goodbye back.

[𝙱𝚊𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚛]

Dick parked neatly by the entrance and hopped off the car with Damian. Damian was holding the Blanket to give it back and the bag of cookies carefully, Dick knocked on the door. They heard someone's voice, "JUST A MINUTE—ACK— DANNY WAIT— A— ow..." Soon the door opened, "That's what you get for eating my BROWNIES!"

"Okay okay I know! Sorry! I didn't know they were yours— oh. Hello— oh! Hello there Damian!" Dante crouches to Damian's Height and Damian perked up, "Good Morning Dan." Damian was trying to hold back a smile but he couldn't help himself and hands Dante the Blanket and Cookies, "Alfred says to bring this with me! Cookies and your Uhm— Blanket that was wrapped around Drake." Damian says.

Dante smiles and Grabs the items gently. "That's nice kid, it's also nice that you're calling me by my nickname—" Dante was interrupted by Danny slowly wheeling himself over, "Who's at the Door?" Danny asks, his voice now much gentler as he smiles at Damian. Truly Danny and Dante were twins with the only difference is being their physical build and Eye color but even their hairstyles resemble each other with Dante's being just longer than Danny's. "Good Morning Sir! Uhm, I'm Richard, but most people call me Dick." Dick shakes Danny's Hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you I'm Daniel but you can call me Danny and This is my Brother Dante but you can call him Dan. How bout this adorable Child? Aren't you well behaved." Danny compliments and hovers his hand over Damian's head as if waiting permission to pat his hair and Damian just slightly tilts his head over to be head patted by Danny, "My Name is Damian, Damian Wayne." Dante chuckled and Danny just cooing on the much adorable kid "I know right? He's much more behaved than you Danny— ack—" Dante says but got elbowed by Danny almost immediately.

"Please do come in sir— are you okay?" Danny just asks politely as Dick was holding back intense laughter. I mean. DAMIAN is behaving? He's letting these people pat his head when he tries to bite anyone else who does? Him being polite and Kind to these people? It felt like a dream. A fever dream possibly. "T-this is real life right...?" Dick asks, "Yes Sir, It is." Dante just states and Danny pats his lap and reached his hands over to Damian, still also waiting for permission to put the boy in his lap. Damian hesitates but nods and Danny Puts Damian in his lap.

Dick just looks shocked, "is he much different at home?" Dante asks whilst chuckling and putting the cookies on a plate and Dick just nods, "Yes... Yes he's much different than at home... Feral even—" Dick Mutters and Damian shot a glare at Dick, "Such a strong Glare. Very charming! It can defend you from the Bad People." Danny laughs and pats Damian's Head. They heard Cujo bark and Jump On Danny's-Damian's Lap. "... A-a puppy—" Damian just immediately patting the Puppy who was Barking Happily at him.

"That's Cujo! He's a rescue dog. They almost euthanized him because they wanted to change their security to digital, it's such a shitty move." Danny scoffs, "How dare they? He's just a puppy!" Damian swears in his mind that he'll find whoever euthanized their puppies for Technological Advancements.

"That's why we got them shut down Danny. Well Sam Did because she was more than unwilling to let that Crime Slide By Her." Dante chuckles and pours a cup with a Cold Chocolate Drink and gave it to Damian. Damian was very pleased, they're very gentle towards him and asks for his permission before doing something.

"Now! To the Backdoor!" Dante laughs, "Wow... You're so Nice today Damian.. remember we gotta take pictures okay Baby Bat?" Dick just coos over Damian's Behaved Moments. "Hmph." Damian pouts slightly as Danny Was pushed By Dante to the Backdoor that was large.

"As I promise I'll let you see the Barn and the Ranch. Pretty sure Mr and Mrs. Baxter is there and they'll love you. C'mon Dick." Dante just nods at Dick and he nodded back following them back door and Seeing the Vast lands as any rich houses would have but this time there was a large barn and Barn Animals Roaming.

The horses were also our for the day. "RedIvy Recently Gave Birth to a new Foal, we Named him WindRunner." Dante says as they approached the two elderly couple. "Why hello there you little munchkin, you must be Damian Wayne! You're so cute." Berta Coo'ed and Damian slightly blushes and buried his face on his hands making the others chuckle.

"Hey there Dante~" Valerie from afar was approaching, a chicken nesting on her head. Dante immediately distances himself, "No Ass-slapping." Dante states clearly and Valerie just sighs.

"There's a child please stop flirting... Get a room." Danny scoffs as he lets Damian down to Approach the horses with Harold, the Baxter Husband. Damian was fascinated by the place as this was very much paradise for him.

"It's so odd seeing him calm and... Collected sort of?" Dick says as he sat down on a bench, "Children are unpredictable. But they're still just children so they're always curious and selfish at times. But it's the best times we can teach them especially for Traumatized children how they can set boundaries, trust people again, we must teach them the warmth and Acceptance of a family and loved ones in general." Danny says as he stares at Damian and the elderly couple with Dante.

The horses flocking them along with RedIvy and Her Foal, "At Their age they really don't know how to differentiate between Violence and Actual Love." Danny chuckles.

"Your family has an odd line of .... Traumatized People." Danny mutters making Dick cough for a moment, "oh I'm sorry if I offended you— it's just that I don't think it's healthy for the kid to be surrounded by... Negativity of a sort. After all their childhood experiences is what makes them a person in the future." Danny clears, "No-No it's alright— I just was taken aback but that's true— yeah... That's true." Dick sighs at the fact is that a younger boy knows more about how to be a parent than him or Bruce—

[𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝑷𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅, 8:45 𝑷𝑴]

"Damn, I think I just got therapy—" Dick Mutters and Dante laughs and Danny looked a little Embarrassed. "That's how Danny just really is! Oh! And thanks for joining my stream!" Tucker says as Dick was Carrying Damian with a smaller fluffy soft Blanket wrapped around him. "Isn't he just tired, you can keep the Blanket, Mr and Mrs. Baxter said so" Dante chuckles and Dick Nods.

"Thanks for having us today, although I didn't surely expect us to take this long until night, thanks for the meal as wel—" he stuns for a moment when Dante hands him a small Container of Home cooked food, "Take this! And this Bento too for Alfred. I told him last time I'd ask him to rate my cooking." Dante laughs and smiles subtly and Dick Nods and smiles back. Dick headed back to his car and gently places Damian on the backseat to let him sleep peacefully, he puts the 3 containers and the bento on the passenger seat and hops in the drivers seat to turn on the Car.

"Drive Safe Dick!" Dante tips his cap and Danny waves them goodbye. Dick waved back and smiled and soon drove off. Damian had a fun day and it was undeniable.

[𝑾𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓, 9:00 𝑷𝑴]

"Welcome Back Home Master Dick.. my my... Master Damian truly had fun didn't he?" Alfred greeted them at the door chuckling. Dick was Carrying Damian Gently and Closely in his arms and he just nods, "ah right the Boy, Dante told me to give this to you." Dick handed Alfred the Bento and Alfred Hummed In delight as Dante had kept his promise and he nodded. "Thank you Master Dick, let us head inside shall we? Master Bruce is waiting to hear what took you all so long." Alfred hums and Dick Nodded heading inside. Alfred was carrying the food the Baxter's had sent to take back home with Dick.

Dick first put Damian in his bed and tucked the tired boy in for the night before heading to the Living room to tell Bruce how their day was. Maybe he should force Bruce to go to therapy with the Baxter's too, they were warm and Tim says they weren't too suspicious at all it's just that sometimes their information is... Patchy... But nothing too suspicious yet.

Yeah sending the Whole Family to Therapy is an Amazing Idea maybe then they'll stop being idiots—

The Baby Bat had an Amazing Day <333

I love em.

[luvyeni]

MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( chapter. 8 )

— CHAPTER EIGHT: video chat with yeni <3 …

— 𖦹 warnings? mutual masturbation, language, crude jokes

previous chapter - next chapter - my shy neighbor masterlist

jeongin practically skipped out of the cafe after his shift ended – even his co-workers were a bit surprised, but he didn’t even say anything, he put his apron up, walking out the store.

he got home, seungmin texted him telling him he’d stay at hyunjins’ apartment – claiming he didn’t want to hear the boy at all, it didn’t bother him, now he didn’t have to whisper.

you both already discussed that you both weren’t gonna show your faces – yours was for privacy reason , which he didn’t mind, your voice sounded pretty, he could just tell your face was the same.

he didn’t want to show his face because he thought he’d be too shy to talk to you if you knew what he looked like, you didn’t care though, telling him as long as you could hear him calling you princess that’s all that mattered.

he didn’t know where that side came from, it was like he was living a different life, he even wondered if he’d be able to talk to a girl like that in real life as he sat up his laptop, the sight automatically popping up.

while he waited for his time, he began to think again – his mind drifting to the girl next door, he hadn’t seen you in a few days , since the cafe.

‘would he be able to talk to her like that? ‘how would she react?’ ‘would she even like it’

a loud ding pulled him out of his daze – his eyes fell to his screen, it was time to talk to you, he pushed the thought to the back of his head , he’d been waiting all day for this, he wasn’t gonna let that thought get in his head – it would never happen anyway, he could barely talk to her.

he sighed, angling his screen enough that showed from his neck down — clicking the start chat button.

“Hi.” your body came into frame, wearing the black set he picked out earlier , his cock began to stir in his jeans – he made the right choice you looked so good.

“yeni.” your voice sweet as ice cream much like the nights before, “Hi princess.” He watched you smile at the nickname. “You look really nice.”

“I guess you did make a good choice.” You said, “I guess I did princess.” He said, his cock twitching in agreement. “You sound pretty young, how old are you?” you made conversation. “I’m 23.” You hummed. “you’re pretty young, and you spend so much money, are you rich?” he chuckled, “no i’m not rich princess, just fortunate.” Was he a drug dealer. “you’re not a criminal right?”

“No i’m not a criminal.” He laughed, you smiled. “What?” you pouted. “I don’t think i’d be comfortable doing this for a criminal, plus you seem so nice.” You sat on your knees, giving him a better look. “Don’t worry princess, my money is clean.” He bit his lip, taking in your outfit fully. “Fuck princess, you look so good.”

“I dressed up all pretty for you.” You pushed your boobs together. “Just like you asked.” He wanted to groan, the thought of you doing what he asked – being obedient for him, turned him on to the max. “so you can be a good girl.” That made your thighs clench. “For now.” You chuckled, teasing him.

“If you want to cum tonight, you better listen, understood.” That made your panties damp – you could easily make yourself cum after you talked to him, but someone inside you made you want to listen to him. “y-yes.”

You kept the conversation going for a bit longer, your bra straps getting lower and lower off your shoulder, teasing him. “Fuck princess, just take it off, it’s almost off anyway.” He groaned. “So eager.” You said, slowly reaching behind, undoing the notches on your bra. “Good girl princess.” He palmed himself, watching the bra fell into your lap – your perky tits on display. “So pretty.”

“Squeeze them for me.” Your hand came up to your breast, squeezing them, you sighed. “Feels good princess?” You hummed. “Yeah.” You toyed with your nipples. “So good.”

“i’m so hard right now.” He groaned, he felt like he was about to burst. “I wanna see.” You whined, “Show me, please.” He unbuckled his pants, pushing them down to his ankles, his cock sprung out, it made your mouth water, he was big. “it’s so pretty.”

He was glad you couldn’t see him blush, “thank you princess.” He said, “Now you, take those pretty panties off.” You lay on your back, giving him a full look at your ass, your legs were in the air as you slid the panties off. “Spread your legs princess.”

He slowly began to stroke his cock, your legs slowly opening, revealing your cunt. “Shit.” He groaned, squeezing his cock. “Your cunt is so wet.”

“Touch yourself for me.” You touched your clit, legs twitching as you rubbed figure eights on your bud. “Good girl princess, rub your little clit for me.” He leaned into the camera, getting a “better” look. “That’s it, now push your little finger in your cunt.”

“Fuck.” You pushed a finger inside, moaning in pleasure. “It feels so good.” You said. “My fingers would be so much better princess, add another.”

You added another one, speeding up. “Fuck yeni.” He almost came from you moaning his name, speeding up his movements to keep up with you. “fuck princess, I want to feel your cunt.” He groaned, your moans flowing out of you, you must’ve lived alone with how loud you were being. “Fuck I wanna see you cum, make yourself cum for me.”

He watched you curl your fingers up, thighs shaking as you came, screaming with pleasure. “Sh-shit.” He squeezed his tip, cum pouring from his tip, coating his hands, dripping down the base of his cock. “Fuck I came so much.” He breathed.

You came back from your high, sitting up, watching the cum drip from his cock, biting your lower lip, watching his abs contract as he came down from his high, his skin red. “you’re drooling, you wish you could clean it up.” You hummed. “So bad.”

You checked the time, while he cleaned up, your time was up – but you didn’t want to go, it was weird, because you normally would be so happy to get off these calls, but he felt different, you wanted to have a conversation with him, he seemed too familiar.

“I guess our time is up.” He said, you nodded. “Should I schedule another time? Whens your next opening?” he asked. “I don’t usually do these often, but for you, i’ll leave it open especially for you.” he smiled, you were already going above and beyond for. “Okay, i’ll schedule one for next week.”

“Good.” You spoke. “I have to go get cleaned up now.” You spoke. “Talk to you soon.” You blew a kiss to the camera. “Bye princess.” You ended the track, he sat back in his chair, a blissful smile on his face.

fuck he really was down bad…

— ( taglist. OPEN ) @soulsbbg @k-poplv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @bbokarimenu @enczen @queen-in-the-shadows @thesweetesttattoo @ririlinoriri @aloverga @ashiitex @ddazed-lhs @heartsforhyunjin @chlodavids @simp4myself @surefornext @lostwonderwall @xxr-s4sha @charmer-c @vixensss @frobin4ever @bmnyy @semi-semiisbae @m111nho @i2innie @aalexyuuuhm @iraa567 @cheshireshiya @ihrtlix @abbiestearsricochet @niaalove @skzswife @babrieeee @thisisnotjacinta @luvskai @ikeusol @costalmaine @whos-kkira @minhosprettywife @hey-hey-heybitch @jeongins-version @denisaandreea20 @lovesunshinefelix @222brainrot @thatgirlkay @ss3oung @number1jeonginstan @whitney190 @jongseongslvr

💬Authors Notes: the taglist will officially be closed on the 10th!

©LUVYENI

[moodymisty]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝕸𝖊

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Author's Note: Part 2! I know it came out kinda fast, but part 3 might take a bit longer since it's a bit more heavy than these first 2 chapters. It will also feature much more of our spooky man than this one has. Either way, I hope you enjoy meeting our stinky little Night Lord.

Summary: A Night Lord becomes interested in you while you stand under the eyes of your Salamander guardian, and you find yourself stuck between two titans.

Relationships: Yandere Salamander/Fem!Reader/Yandere Night Lord

Warnings: Hints of nsfw at points, Yandere, Size differences, Very toxic suffocating relationship(s), Some knight/princess dynamics, Demeaning language, Both these guys have hero complexes, Violence blood and bruises and possibly death to say without spoilers

Word Count: 3446

You need to eat. 

When Ralkan had told you to stay you’d trusted his judgment; Staying put in your quarters. It wasn’t safe for you on your own, not with Night Lords now prowling around. At least in his eyes. You didn’t have enough information to feel either way about it, though you can't say you have no fear of astartes you don't know.

Even when you first came aboard this ship, coming face to face with astartes for the first time- even as their kind faces smiled and they gave you polite dips of their head and welcomed you aboard- you still felt the heart pounding fear of seeing towering warriors on the line between human and something else.

Floating in the vastness of space beside the Flamewrought, Night Lord ships linger around with an unnerving aura you could feel when looking out any of the large viewports. it almost was like the ships were leering, as ridiculous as such a notion sounds.

There wasn’t much you could do in hidden away in your quarters, however. You could only write so much before you could no longer avoid the growling of your stomach, and the way it aches.

You can just go to the mess hall and get something to eat, and rush back to your quarters. It's not as if you have other options in the matter; He surely hadn't expected you to just starve, or get someone to wait on your hand and foot.

You had your fill of that on Terra. You can get your own food, you aren't a child anymore. And this ship is alive and well, you aren't going to let yourself fear some invisible terror in the dark.

Having your fill of hermitry you get up from your desk chair, leaving the small quarters that have been designated as your own. It has only the basics; A bed, a desk and chair, and a few other basics for a human to live. Perhaps it isn't as grandiose as a study in your highrise on Terra, in the shadow of the gilded Imperium palace, but it is far more freeing.

Upon leaving hall was relatively empty; They hadn't felt content to put you in quarters with other baseline humans, but you were still far away from the Salamanders own barracks. You were sure Ralkan had a say in this intentional placement as your guardian.

Down adjacent halls you can sometimes see a hint of dark blue armor pass the corner of your eye as you walk, but by the time you go to look, it’s gone. You've seen glimpses of the Night Lords now that they're aboard the ship, but you've avoided a full confrontation as of yet.

Ralkan's suffocating protection has done a good job of it. However he has his duties and cannot be around you always, and you’ll take the moment to take a deep breath free of him for just a little while.

You would never say you dispised him, but his aggravating behavior has begun to make your quarters feel like a cage. You cant stay in there forever, you have to eat. You doubt he would scold you for such a thing.

When you reach the mess hall you quickly grab a heaping portion of food- anyone who notices pays no heed to the amount- and sit to quickly shovel it all down. It's less than appealing taste is like nothing else now, with how hungry you are, and you find it gone within minutes. Only crumbs are left, and finally you're full again.

You quickly get up and move to shuffle back to your quarters not moments after the last bit of food hits your belly. If you're quick and avoid too many eyes he'll never know, and you two can both continue being sweet on one another with him being none the wiser.

His heart is in the right place; It's just that his grip is far too tight.

Your feet hit the floor at a quick place, walking as fast as you can go. The halls are a bit emptier than they were earlier, but you notice your door is within sight after what feels like only a few minute trek. When you get in, you can continue to write about Commander Artellius, and your time with the Salamanders. Being in travel has made things largely uneventful, other than the edition of the new temporary allies.

You reach towards the door open it, when a voice cuts the air and nearly startles you into to the ceiling.

“Well, what is this?”

The voice is loud, with an odd accent that warps his words ever so slightly. The shadows overtaking you are massive, and they almost seem to have appeared out of nowhere.

Maybe they had been following you. You were too busy staring at your own feet to notice, worried about making it back before a fellow of Ralkan spotted you out and out.

With no other option you turn and look up, gazing over dark blue armor with dents and scratches, marked with brass edging and red accents.

Only one had spoke, but there's three here; The middle is the tallest, but the one to his right is the most scarred; And the one that spoke, judging by the way he's smiling. He's the cockiest one, clearly.

The one in the middle has skin pallid and marked, a massive, jagged scar cutting across the bridge of his nose and brow. You think his irises might be a color, brown or grey, but there’s something in them that almost seems to suck the light out of everything around him and make them almost as black as his hair. But unlike his brother, he's yet to speak a word.

Your hand hovers over the handle of your door, frozen. You've barely even looked to the third Night Lord to your right.

Stuck like prey, you jolt as you spot an armored hand begins to reach towards your face from the corner of your eye, towards your jaw, and you yelp as it clamps around your jawline. Instantly your own hands try to pull at his armored fingers, teeth gritting as he holds far too tight. The cocky one steps a bit closer and turns your face as if examining a curious trinket, before he notices something.

“She’s all bruised,” He says, his thumb shoving your cheek and pushing it.

You were? When Ralkan grabbed you last you saw him he must’ve done so too hard. You can’t feel it hurting, but you are more than used to the smattering of bruises across your skin from him. Even at his most gentle, it’s obvious he isn’t made with it in mind.

You look up at the one gripping you, watching his eyes rake over you. He laughs, a gravely chuckle that you can feel in your chest as his own rumbles. The third one simply watches, body blocking the only escape path away from the other two. He's watching, like the act of doing so is more amusing that actually joining in.

“I thought the Salamanders were supposed to be altruistic.”

The Night Lord turns your face harder, and you gasp trying to pull at his gauntlet to free yourself even a minutia. Your muscles ache, jaw yelling in pain as his gauntlet is like a vice grip around the bottom half of your face.

“Hey, careful.”

The one in the middle finally speaks up for the first time, and the one grabbing you turns to him and scowls, clicking his tongue. His nose wrinkles but he doesn't let go of you, goading his taller brother.

“What, you suddenly care? We don’t feed other people's pets.”

Reaching forward he tugs one of your hands away from your captor's gauntlet, raising it for your captor to easily see.

“Look at the clothes. I think she’s important.”

The one grabbing you scoffs and turns away, pulling you around again. His other gauntlet grabs at your other arm, and looks at your hand. His face perks considerably, and the jolt of fear it sends through you beats all others.

"Ink stains. You don't work. You're soft."

Something on his face and in his voice changes, and you try to dig your heels into the ground in some fruitless effort to stay put.

"Volya." The middle one says as your capture seems to be readying to pick you up. You can barely open your jaw to speak let alone yell, unless someone spots you, you stand no chance of getting out of where ever he's planning on taking you.

"Yeah yeah, she's important; What important person is shoved back here by all the serfs and storage? They won't notice."

You yelp digging your heels deeper, and briefly look at the one who has voiced even the tiniest bit of concern for you. He catches your gaze, and something changes in his eyes as your hands pull at the fingers that hold you.

Moments later he grabs at his battle brother’s gauntlet, the ceramite clanking against each other as armor plates collide. Your captor looks at the taller one like he's furious at just being touched.

“We’re already far out-numbered on this ship. Just leave it. Find a less important one to toy with.”

He looks at his brother for a moment, nose wrinkled and teeth barred, and you can feel the air change like a fight is brewing; But he lets you go.

“Fine.”

Taking his fellow with him the two Night Lords leave you and the tallest of the three, the one who stood up for you, alone. You rub your jaw and look up at him. He watches with an unreadable expression on his unkempt face.

“...Thank you,”

You say, and you’re surprised by the way he reacts to it. Though his surprise fades away, as he smiles. It feels like his teeth are too big for his mouth, his two sharp fangs press against the inside of his upper lip.

“It talks? A surprise.”

Whereas Ralkan is stoic and mindful, this man is the opposite; His smile is cocky and posture relaxed even in his hulking armor. His arms cross, but given the size of his chestplate, the closest he can get to fully doing so is gripping his forearms with the opposite hand.

You swallow the knot in your throat. You know that while he did chase the other two away, it's very well possible it's only because he wanted you to himself.

Though maybe it's that curiosity in you- the thing that Ralkan seems so irritated by- that has you prying for answers rather than just crying and pleading for him to let you leave.

“What is your name? You’re the first of your Legion I’ve met.” 

That wasn’t the question he expected to hear, you suppose. His face perks with surprise and curiosity not unlike a child.

“Lev.”

Ralkan told you they enjoy terrorizing the weak, only picking fights that they know they can win by overwhelming odds. You'd say if you didn't cower like prey maybe he would leave you alone, but that's impossible when Lev is a terrifying example of just how little of a thing you are, in comparison to these giants.

But he doesn't seem like how Ralkan described them on first impression, however. Perhaps he’s just hiding it so you let your guard down. Though why would he risk a fight with his battle brothers if that was the case?

“We didn't know they had any of you studious types on board. Do they keep you all locked up?” 

You're sure Ralkan would like to, if he had his way with it. Had he been less inclined to take your opinion seriously, you'd probably be chained somewhere in your quarters, right about now.

"I was, informed, to stay in my quarters until you all left the ship."

Lev snorts, his smirk lopsided. Before he has a chance to say anything more, you notice that he has blood coming from one nostril, down his lip. It’s dry, but you wonder if he was in a fight and broke his nose not long ago. The bruising around it and dipping underneath his eyes adds to the theory.

“You’re bleeding…”

You say, gesturing to your own nose. He brushes his gauntlet against his upper lip, and watches dried blood fall to the ground. He licks his upper lip, and more of the blood wipes away. You find yourself more distracted by the gesture than one would like.

“Ahh, one of your Salamanders saying things he shouldn’t have; He could throw a punch, but couldn’t take one.” He smiles at you again.

“I didn’t kill him, if you’re worried about him.” "Believe me, I wanted to. All these overgrown lot are a bunch of stuck up types. You think they'd learn to keep their mouths shut before I take something from it."

You get the hint that he's joking, as odd as that is; Salamanders don't often joke. But you also get the hint that the only reason he didn't kill the man, was that as he mentioned before, he's greatly outnumbered on the Flamewrought.

You hadn't been thinking about the Salamander oddly enough however, too focused on the purple and blue bruising scattered across the hump of his nose. Your eyebrows raise, back still pressed against the wall.

“But, are you ok?”

You mumble, watching his eyes look over you. It almost looks like he thinks you're messing with him, until he seems to realize you were serious, and his expression mellows a bit. He uncrosses his arms and reaches a hand for you, and unlike his battle brother, you don't shirk away from his gauntlet nearly as much.

He grabs your jaw much in the same way his battle brother had earlier, but soft enough that it doesn't hurt.

"You stink like one of them," He remarks, and you assume he's referring to the Salamanders. His fingers grip your chin and pull it upward, exposing more of your neck.

He looked as if he was going to open his mouth and speak more, but a voice cuts through the air and stops him dead.

“Do you not have somewhere to be, Night Lord?”

Ralkan's voice makes your heart nearly stop, though you can’t manage to pull your eyes away from the Night Lord even as he approaches with thundering footfall. Lev however does, and looks towards the Salamander who stands no more than a meter to his right. You can see his face sour as he’s forced to drop his hand.

“Perhaps. But I believe on our arrival you said we were welcome guests, can I not wander?”

Ralkan steps forward, just short of trying to shove his slightly larger body between the both of you. He reaches for you, a massive green gauntlet landing on your shoulder.

“Move along, Son of Curze.”

He gives Ralkan a look. One that while irritated, is pleased that he managed to get under the Salamander’s skin.

But the Night Lord still hesitates to leave, watching as you shrink under the shadow of your returned guardian. For a moment you fear he might start something, with the way he looks at you and follows the arm trailing up your shoulder to Ralkan.

But recognizing the fight isn't one that he's sure he'll be able to win, Lev turns away from your overbearing knight to look down at you with the same smirk he'd given you earlier.

"Another time, little Salamander."

Lev leaves. He walks past the Salamander with not even a look, and just barely they manage to not slam pauldrons as he turns away. 

When he is safely out of earshot, Ralkan looks down at you; His expression is still stoic, but you can see the anger hidden beneath it.

“I told you to stay out of their sight,” He says, gripping your shoulder tight. You attempt lightly to pull away, his grip painful, but make little progress.

“I, I’m sorry Ralkan but I had to eat. Did you want me to just starve in there?”

His gaze softens ever so slightly, but you can still tell he’s more than a little bit angry. At you, and himself. Even if he wasn’t at all angry at you, his emotions weigh still on you like lead. He takes this whole protecting you duty that he has been given so incredibly seriously, you wonder how much worse it's going to get until someone else might have to protect you from him.

Ralkan takes a kneel, coming eye to eye with you. Both of his hands now cup the sides of your shoulders, and he looks at you like he's almost pleading at you.

“Now that he has his sights on you there’s nothing that’s going to stop him until he has you.” 

Despite his unnerving look, the blood on his face from a fight that put a Salamander on an apothecary table, he didn’t seem to be the way that Ralkan had described them. 

Maybe he's lying, maybe Lev is faking it.

“It wasn't like he was going to carve me up; By the Throne, Ralkan he saved me. There was more of them, but he chased them off.” Ralkan lightly shakes you.

“They enjoy toying with things like you. Don’t assume anything.”

You take in a deep breath, your face beginning to get hot with anger. You'd said earlier that this ship was more freeing than Terra, but not that's beginning to not be the case.

“He didn’t do anything, just-“ Ralkan’s brow knits in anger and he cuts you off, speaking angrier than you think you've ever heard him. Astartes voices are booming, and his hits you in the chest as he raises his voice.

“There are Salamanders already injured because of them. I asked you to stay here because I trusted you to heed my warning, if you won’t, then I can bring you to my own quarters and lock you inside.”

You look at him surprised at his anger, and your mouth clamps shut. You're angry at him for threatening such a thing, as much as your not surprised by it, but you can't fight him. Not realistically. You look away from him and try to swallow a knot in your throat at suddenly appeared.

Ralkan, realizing he’s upset you, softens his expression and sighs. His hands slide down from your shoulders to hold your hands in his massive gauntlets. The gesture doesn't go unseen, as you look down at them for a moment. The ceramite is cold and rough on your skin.

“I want you safe. It is my duty now yes, but,”

He hesitates for a moment, before removing one of his hands from your own and cupping the side of your face. You hate that the gesture melts away some of the anger you have welled inside of you.

“I would be beside myself if anything were to happen to you. I want you to be safe for your sake and my own.”

He leans closer. In your personal space, breath fanning across your skin, he closes the gap and presses his lips against yours. You don't move for a moment, before you gently exhale and lean closer to him. His nose presses against your cheek, and you can feel the small scars of his skin brush against yours. With him so close you realizes just how warm he is, astartes always run hot but it's like his blood is fire, your lips and face feel so warm. Though it could be your own flush, body heating up.

When he pulls away from you lips separating with a soft pop, you feel some of that stuffy heat dissipate, but the burn over your face remains.

“I must remove my armor first but, will you return to my quarters with me? I will tell you all about Nocturne. You can rest there as well, if you’d like.”

He’s trying to make it up to you, you can tell. He may not be directly apologizing, but he's trying to give you something he knows you want in an attempt to be sweet on you again. You hate how well it works. If only it didn't feel like he had you trapped in a cage, bars getting tighter and tighter.

With the warmth of his lips still on your own, you nod.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Ralkan smiles and rises to his feet. He gestures for you to walk beside him and takes your hand in his gauntlet once more, and you both leave your quarters for his own.

[lucid-loves]

First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 4

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.4k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, smut, virgin reader, first kiss

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: It’s time to head to the safehouse that Ghost set up for the both of you. Before you leave though, Ghost introduces you to some new experiences in your own country. While he takes care of you, you find yourself falling for him even more to the point where you want to test curiosity of yours. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9

“Has the duke spilled his guts yet?” Ghost asked Soap, making the last minute arrangements for the safehouse as quick as he could. While he would’ve liked to have been the one to interrogate the bastard in his own special way, he didn’t want to leave you alone for too long. Luckily, Soap arrived quickly to take care of the interrogation for him. He was glad that his sergeant didn’t mind talking with his fists too. 

“Bits and pieces. Not much though. At least, nothing that will really bolster our investigation. He seems like he genuinely doesn’t know much about the organization he decided to trust. They just made him safety and financial promises which he took without question.” Soap revealed, wiping stray specks of blood on his arms with a warm, moist cloth provided by a maid.

Ghost hummed in annoyance. An idiot like the duke, who was so willing to sell out your life along with your country, wasn’t worth breathing the same air as you. He would kill him if he could. It would be doing the world a favor. “What about the servant?”

Soap shrugged and shook his head. “Still working on that one, Lt. He’s been asleep.”

“Asleep?” Ghost repeated, hardly believing what his sergeant just told him.

“According to the guards, when the man was taken in for custody, he just dropped dead asleep. Coma-level sleep. We can’t get him to wake up. I’ve contacted the team about it and Kate is going to send an expert to test for drugs. We think that he might’ve taken something before being taken into custody. Capsule in the teeth kind of shit.” Soap explained carefully, making sure he covered everything that he needed to cover.

“What about guest statements? Anything useful?” Ghost continues, his patience wearing thin. He needed a win. They all did. This was no longer just a concerned parental request. A whole country was truly at stake of being taken over by terrorists. 

Once again, Soap shook his head. “Sorry, Lt. Everything is on record so you’re free to read through everything just in case I missed something, but the only thing we can do is continue our investigation and wait for the servant to wake up.”

Little did they know that you were just outside the doors, listening to their whole conversation. You were finished packing what you thought you needed with the help from your maid staff. So, you ended up leaving the room in search of Ghost to let him know that you were ready to go. 

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You only meant to wait patiently for their conversation to wrap up. But you couldn’t unhear what was being discussed. It scared you that they haven’t been able to uncover much regarding these terrorists that were after your country and life. It was even scarier to know that there wasn’t much you could do except trust in Ghost and his team. 

Finally, you mustered up your courage and gave the door a light knock before coming in. “Pardon me. I’m all set to go to the safehouse.”

Soap’s expression lit up at the sight of you, his lighthearted, playful side coming through immediately. You were fascinated with how different he appeared compared to Ghost. A little shorter, stylish faux mohawk, and a smile that brought life to the prim and proper room. A part of you was expecting Ghost’s teammate to be more like him. Was the 141 actually quite diverse? What was the rest of his team like?

“Well hello, Princess Y/n! I’m Sergeant Mactavish, but people call me Soap. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you after all the things Ghost has said about you.” He greeted you warmly, holding out his hand for a casual handshake. Without thinking, you took it, your own eyes brightening up along with your cheeks.

“A pleasure to meet you as well, Sergeant Mactavish. Ghost talks about me?” You couldn’t help but clarify, your eyes meeting Ghost’s who just averted his gaze. God damn it, Soap!

“He-”

“That’s enough, Sergeant! Get back to work.” Ghost shut him down swiftly, the word of the lieutenant being final. It didn’t hurt Soap though. In fact, he was used to Ghost reacting this way which he thought was hilarious. 

With a chuckle, Soap took his leave out of the room. “Aw well, maybe next time! See you later, Princess.” 

As he walked out, you smiled, feeling uplifted by the interaction. Meeting Soap was like meeting an old friend. You hoped that you would be able to meet him again, especially to hear the kinds of things Ghost said about you. For now, you redirected your attention back to Ghost who looked more tired than usual.

“Are you feeling alright, Lieutenant Ghost? You look like you need some rest.” You gently pointed out, your brows furrowing in concern. Ghost’s soul warmed up like a fireplace being started at your consideration.

“I’ll be alright. No need to worry about me. You said that you were all ready to go?” He switched topics quickly, not wanting you to worry too much about him. He would catch up on rest later. The most important thing was getting you to a safer place. That would be his safe space to rest too.

You gave a sheepish smile as he redirected the attention onto you. “Indeed. I would prefer to leave sooner rather than later. I hope that me being ready does not rush you.”

He wanted to shower you with praise over you being such a good girl. Ghost was incredibly grateful that you weren’t fussy whatsoever. “No, that’s perfect. We should be getting out of here now.”

An armored car was waiting right outside the palace to take you to the safehouse, already loaded up with just a few suitcases. You weren’t sure how long you were going to be at the safehouse, but you only packed necessities. No formal wear, no jewelry. Nothing that would take up too much space. As you stood on the palace steps, you took a deep breath of fresh air. Birds were chirping excitedly, a slight breeze cut through the would-be heat. It was a perfect day to finally leave your marble prison. Not without protests from your parents, though.

“Are you absolutely sure that this is necessary? I mean, how else will we know that the princess is safe if she is so far away?” Your father nervously blurted, his eyes shifting from Ghost to you to the car in an anxious cycle. 

Your mother wasn’t too happy either, though for different reasons that almost had Ghost snap. “How will we know that she is keeping up with her studies?!”

Before Ghost could combat their nerves, you huffed and faced your parents for the first time in your life. This new courage was found in knowing that there was really nothing your parents could do to stop this from happening. “Mother, father, I will be perfectly safe. I will continue to study as usual. However, this will also be a great chance for me to learn what the world is really like outside of the palace. We won’t do anything unsafe, so please, just let me learn what I need to learn.”

For a moment, there was pure silence between everyone. No one was expecting you to stand up for yourself, even if it was about time that you did. Then, your father places his hands on your shoulders, his gaze softening. “Y/n, when did you become such a wonderful young woman? It was only yesterday that I was holding you in my arms for the first time.”

Your eyes widened for a second, not expecting your father to become so affectionate all of a sudden. He was certainly more affectionate than your mother, though, you couldn’t remember the last time your father told you that he loved you. You blinked back tears he pulled you in for a sweet hug as if you were leaving forever.

As Ghost watched, he felt his anger begin to melt. As much as he hated the decisions your parents made regarding your life, at least he knew that it came from a place of love. At least for the case of your father. Your mother, on the other hand, still had a sour look on her face. Thankfully, she kept her mouth shut in a tight line.

“Lieutenant, keep my daughter safe.” The king ordered to which Ghost gave a firm nod to. He would rather lose his life than have you in danger again. 

After you pulled away and said your final goodbyes, you got into the armored car. Ghost got into the driver’s seat and started it up, eager to help you see the world outside of the palace walls. As you looked out the window, seeing your parents get smaller and smaller with the distance, you felt a surge of excitement run through you. 

Ghost noticed how your demeanor changed. Now without the pressures of royal conformity, you were free to be yourself. More courageous. It seemed like you had some bark and bite in you as well after all. He wanted to know you even more. “You wanna choose the music for the ride?”

You perked up at his offer, eagerly nodding your head as he handed you his phone that was already connected to the car’s bluetooth system. After perusing some options, you settled on a playlist that surprised Ghost. Even under the mask, you could tell that he was questioning your choice. “I want to hear all kinds of music. I want to hear every single song that was banned for me.”

He gave a chuckle for the first time that you’ve been together. The sound had your heart skip a beat. You didn’t even know that he was capable of laughing with how serious he looked all the time. “Very well. I’ll make sure you get your chance to experience anything you want that you normally wouldn’t.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain the utter joy you felt, completely forgetting that your life was in danger just for the moment. 

~

It was a long drive to the safehouse in the deep countryside. Your eyes were trained on the views through the window like it was television. You never knew how pretty your country looked. The architecture was classic with plenty of brick buildings and natural curvatures. There were plenty of sidewalks to cater to pedestrian travel rather than cars. Ivy vines with flowers crawled on the side of buildings, the natural beauty of nature colliding with man-made structures. 

There were plenty of open-air markets as well. Produce stands, custom art pieces, coffee trucks. Everything was conveniently available, no matter if you were heading home from work or just taking a stroll. As you passed a farmer’s market, you noticed how busy it seemed with families. Kids running around, parents picking out ingredients, business owners offering samples to treat the good children. 

Ghost noticed how you looked out the window, longing to join the streets to really experience what life was like. He debated if it would be safe to allow a little time for you to explore. He wasn’t keen on the idea of so many people around you. However, if he stuck close to you, then it should be fine, right? Besides, how could he deny the pretty little look you gave as you yearned for a little adventure. 

Before you knew it, Ghost found somewhere to park and got out of the car. Then, he opened your door and held his hand out for you to take. “Just for a little while, okay? Stick close to me.”

The smile you gave was so big and bright that it almost hurt your cheeks. You couldn’t help it, though. Ghost was granting you one of your biggest wishes. You took his hand and stepped out of the car, taking in the sounds of the city. People conversing, bike bells ringing, dogs barking. It was unlike anything you have ever heard. 

Obeying his orders, you did stick close to Ghost, your arm naturally looping around his without much thought. This was the usual hold for an escort that you have performed many times. It was a natural instinct as Ghost led the way to the farmer’s market. That wasn’t to say that you didn’t notice how strong his muscles felt underneath his shirt. You definitely felt how hard your heart pounded as he held you just as securely to his side.

When he paused to swap out his balaclava for the skeleton face mask that he wore at the party, you nearly tripped over yourself. In the natural light of the sun, his blonde hair seemed brighter like sunshine itself. His eyes seemed more open as well. Warmer. You blushed and stared down at the sidewalk for a moment, trying to catch your breath that he ended up stealing from you.

“Everything alright? Having second thoughts?” He wondered, compassion present in his voice as you all of a sudden seemed shy. 

With a shake of your head and a smile, you reassured him. “I’m fine. Just eager is all.”

With that, he led you into the market that was flooding with people. Ghost kept a careful eye out on everyone that passed by. His arm also tightened just a little more firmly to ensure that you didn’t get separated from him. As you walked, your eyes scanned over all of the products up for sale. Baked goods, ripe fruit, crocheted clothes, beautiful art. Before you knew it, you were dragging Ghost from stall to stall to ensure that you could see everything that the market had to offer.

Ghost found it amusing. He noticed the way your eyes lit up when you tasted a free sample of fresh cheese or juicy apple slices. He noticed the way the corners of your mouth lifted into a grin as you admired the craftsmanship of art. He also noticed when your eyes lingered on a particular homemade hair claw clip that was decorated with pearls, thin gold chains, and delicate flowers. 

“You want it.” He pointed out as more of a statement rather than a question. Your cheeks flushed pink, feeling a little embarrassed by your obvious infatuation. The truth was that most of your clothes and jewelry were chosen for you. You were allowed to mix-and-match with what you were given, but you have never really chosen out anything yourself. 

“I’m just impressed with the details. It is quite a beautiful hair clip.” You danced around the topic, wanting to seem more humble. However, Ghost didn’t really buy it. With a swift motion, he fished out his wallet from his pocket and took out some bills. 

Your mouth opened in shock. “Lieutenant, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine. Consider it a souvenir for your first real outing.” Ghost dismissed you with ease, handing over the money to the seller. He picked up the hair clip and handed it to you to try on, happy to indulge in your wants.

For a moment, you separated your arm from Ghost to put your hair up, loose tendrils naturally falling to frame your face. You let them be as the rest of your hair was fashioned up with the clip. The seller handed you a small mirror to see your reflection. You almost cried when you saw yourself. You never imagined that your bodyguard would buy you such a wonderful gift. “Thank you, Lieutenant Ghost.”

Ghost found his heart skipping a beat as he took in your new appearance. The clip matched your princess personality perfectly. The delicate chains that dangled down pearl and flower beads guided his eyes to the smooth nape of your neck. 

The thought that he wanted to kiss that nape crossed his mind. 

Clearing his throat, he took your arm again. “It suits you. Wouldn’t look better on anybody else.”

It was hard not to fall even deeper for him when he complimented you like that. Your heart pounded as you walked beside him again, your steps feeling lighter than air. Nothing else at the market caught your eye as his compliment kept echoing in your head, turning your feelings into goo. 

As the market neared closing time, the amount of people began to dwindle down. Ghost felt his shoulders fall, feeling more at ease with less people around. Circling back around, he led you back to the produce stalls, wondering what ingredients he should pick up for the safehouse. 

The safehouse would be stocked with food, but not with a lot of fresh ingredients. He wanted to continue making this a good day for you with a homemade dinner rather than whatever TV dinners were waiting in the freezer. He wasn’t a chef by any means, having spent most of his life eating MREs and military canteen food. At the very least, he could make you something simple yet good. 

Remembering the cheese you seemed to enjoy as a sample and how it was tomato season, Ghost picked out all the necessary ingredients to make homemade tomato soup and grilled cheeses for tonight. You watched him curiously as he picked everything out before something in the distance caught your attention. 

“What kind of bread do you like?” He asked you, holding two different loaves of bread in his hands while he considered the options. When he looked to you for an answer though, he could tell that your gaze was trained far into the distance. He turned to look around, trying to find what you were staring at. 

In the distance was a person with a dark hoodie and a bandana covering their face. Bright paint brought color to their sleeves and jeans. The figure was walking away, but it was obvious what they were just up to with what was close to him. 

“Shit.” Ghost cursed as he pulled out his phone with Captain Price on speed dial. 

The other line was picked up quickly. “Lieutenant?”

“Tagger going east on Clover Street. Black hoodie, blue jeans, red bandana, covered in paint.” He informed, his voice low as he kept an eye on the distant figure. He observed how they walked down the street, waiting for them to change directions if they were planning on it.

“Getting a hold of local cameras now. You’re with the princess?” Captain Price inquired, his hands moving fast to find this figure through the city cameras. Finally, he found the person that Ghost described.

“Affirmative.” 

“Sending Gaz to pursue. I recommend that you two get to the safehouse pronto. I didn’t think they would be out in broad daylight.” Price advised, already contacting Gaz to give him his new assignment. Once Gaz accepted the orders, the captain hung up. Ghost knew that his captain needed to focus on this immediately, so he wasn’t offended by the sudden hang-up.

He bought the groceries, now in a bit more of a rush. Securing your arm around his once more, he began to lead you back to the car. “Let’s go, Princess. It’s not safe here anymore.”

Your face fell as the day seemed to be ruined by another case of danger. However, there was something that was bothering you. You noticed the paint on the person’s clothes and a strike of color against one of the brick walls he was near. Curiosity was getting the better of you. 

“Wait!” You paused, your stance suddenly strong and pulling back from Ghost. 

His bold brows rose as you defied him for the first time. Surely you had a good reason to. “What is it? Something wrong?”

You all of a sudden grew a little shy as his intense eyes bored into you, waiting for your explanation. Despite how bashful you grew, you persisted. “I want to see the graffiti they were making. Can we? Please?

“Oh, Princess, it wasn’t a piece of art they were making.” Ghost said knowingly, flashes of the pictures he’d seen crossing his mind. Tags of revolution. War. 

“I still want to see. Please, Lieutenant?” You pleaded, trying to follow your instincts as closely as you could. 

With the way you looked at him, it was hard to say no. He wasn’t sure if you knew that there were tags around the whole city calling for your head. Probably not since your parents didn’t tell you the truth about your life being in serious danger. But. . . he supposed that you deserved to see them just this one time. This was your country after all. “As long as we’re quick. You have to stay close to me too. Got it?”

You eagerly nodded and latched onto his arm, letting him swiftly guide you to the spots of paint on brick in the distance. As you got closer, you could make out specific shapes and color switches. Getting even closer proved Ghost wrong.

This was art.

You stared in awe at the giant mural before you. A crow with a golden crown in its ebony beak. Feathers wrapped in fire and barbed wire. The crow was about to drop the crown into a pit of hell below it, filled with skulls, demons, hellfire, and sharp blades. Ghost was surprised as well. The pictures he saw depicted small tags here and there of the crows. Here, this was a full blown work of art. 

Your free hand drifted up to touch the now colorful bricks. The paint was still a little tacky, but nothing that would stain you. As you looked up, drinking in every detail, Ghost watched you. He was nervous about what you were going to say. 

What you did say startled him. “Crows are a symbol of transformations, prophecies, and death.”

“Your mother said the opposite, save for death.”

“For her, death is an inescapable darkness. Evil. In reality, crows can bring fortune during bad times. Death is good fortune since it is a new beginning. This message isn’t a threat. It’s hope.” You concluded, tracing the swooping beak with your fingers. The shadows and highlights made the crow look almost three-dimensional.

Ghost wasn’t sure how to respond. He normally had an answer for any situation, yet what you said stumped him. How could he respond to something so poetically profound? 

You did give him something new to look into though. He would find the time to talk to his team about it later. For now, he had to finally take you to the safe house. “Come on, we gotta get moving.”

~

The drive through the countryside was long and soothing. Ghost took control of the music once you began to doze off. Something light at a low volume was played so you could continue sleeping peacefully. You had a long day out. You probably burned a lot more energy than what you were used to as well.

Once the car hit the dirt road, you stirred awake. The stars were beginning to come out, having driven for hours. You were surrounded by endless fields of local wildflowers with only the occasional tree. While you did love the looks of the city, there was something to love about the countryside too. The land that felt infinite made you feel like you could do anything. You were eager to see what the land looked like during a beautiful sunrise. 

Soon, the car pulled up at a rustic cottage with a large shed beside it. Ghost stepped out of the car for a second to open it up, turning it into a garage that would just barely fit the vehicle. Once the car was parked, you were led into the house.

A thin layer of dust hung in the air along with the fresh scent of nearby wildflowers. The cottage contained the essentials as far as you could tell. A living room, a kitchen, two bathrooms, and two bedrooms. Generically decorated, yet cozy compared to the sterile fanciness of the palace. 

Ghost brought the luggage in, setting yours in the bedroom of your choosing. He gave you some time to unpack and settle in while he got started on dinner. 

As you placed some of your clothes in one of the empty dressers, the fact that you would be living with your bodyguard for who knew how long began to hit you. Your heart picked up speed along with your breath. Not that you expected anything to happen or develop between the two of you, a part of you still had a sense of hope that your relationship would grow stronger at the very least. 

Before heading back out towards the kitchen, you caught your reflection in a bedroom mirror. The hair clip was still fastened to your hair, giving you butterflies. It was still hard to believe that he had bought you a gift so easily like it costed him nothing. You could’ve sworn that he seemed a little stunned when it was in your hair too. In a good way. 

Ghost was a gentleman. He was just being kind. He wouldn’t do anything that could be considered unprofessional or unfriendly. 

Bodyguard protecting a princess. That’s all your relationship will ever be. Right?

-

Tag List: @angel-anna @ghostlythots @maiyatheprettiestprincess @cum-tea-and-towels @littleghostbride @meowzerzstuff @izziyuwh @literaturewh0r3things @bi-witch-bxtch @victoriareadsbooks

[sentientcave]

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Here we go friends! These chapters just keep getting longer. A larger plot begins to reveal itself to me. I am having a lot of fun here and I hope you are too.

Chapter 3 - Reading Between the Lines

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Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, No Y/N, Some exposition, Reader's dad (deceased) was a real piece of work, Bad memories, A spot of magic, Voyeurism, Reader description kept pretty neutral but I kind of got slightly more specific about black hair care so you're just going to have to live with it.

~6k words

The next morning, it rains.

The pitter-patter of rain against your windows wakes you up, because it sounds wrong. There’s only one small window in your room in Kate’s house, and when weather blows in it’s the sound of water trickling down and dripping off the thatch roof that’s loudest, not the rain itself. Here the sound echoes strangely in the big space, and you wake with a start, disoriented, your heart-hammering in your chest.

It feels like your life in town is the dream, trickling away faster than you can cup your hands to hold onto it. You fly out of bed and wrap a blanket around your shoulders, dashing out into the hallway, bare feet cold on the stone floor. The king’s bedroom is directly across the hall from your own, and you stare at the door, frozen and unsure if you’re willing to risk knocking, breath caught in your throat, chest tight, anxiety squeezing your ribs until they ache.

You’re sixteen and twenty-six both, living two lives out in one panicking body. You no longer belong here and you’ve never been anywhere else. Your father is alive, angry, terrifying, and he’s dead and buried where he can’t hurt you anymore. You are a tossed coin landed on it’s edge, waiting to fall.

The door in front of you opens, and you leap back on instinct, but breathe a sigh of relief when it’s John standing there, looking at you with surprise first, and then concern. “Sweetpea?” he asks, stepping forward to meet you, but leaving space between your bodies, like he knows that it would be worse for him to touch you right now. “What’s wrong?”

You press your shaking fingers to your mouth, holding back a sob. You swallow it down, pulling yourself together enough to speak. “I thought it was a dream,” you say at last. “I thought he was still alive.”

There’s no question who you mean. John reaches a hand out, an offering, and you take it, clinging to him like a life-line. He reels you into his arms, and you lean in, the solid, warm bulk of him as reliable and real as the earth below. “He’s not,” he says firmly. “I put him in the ground myself. You’re safe.”

You nod against his chest, feeling small and silly now. “I’m sorry,” you say, although you’re not sure what you’re sorry for. For showing weakness, maybe, for being lost in your own memory, for needing reassurance.

“It’s early yet,” he murmurs against the top of your head. “You should try to sleep a little longer.”

You’re not sure you could even if you tried, and even though you’re still tired, the adrenaline leaving your body cold, fatigue dragging at your bones insistently. You could maybe sleep against John’s chest, holding onto him, his heartbeat steady and strong enough in your ear to drown out the still-frenetic tempo of your own. “I think I’ll just get dressed,” you say, pushing away. He drops his arms instantly, letting you put a little distance between you.

He shakes his head, smiling at you fondly, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Sweetpea, the sun hasn’t even risen. Go back to bed. I know just the thing to help. Go on.” He turns you toward your door and nudges you along.

There’s no point in arguing with him— You are tired, and although you suspect sleep will be beyond your reach, it’s cold in the hallway, especially now that you’re no longer pressed against John’s warm chest, and your bed is still warm when you climb back in.

Darkness presses down on you, heavy as grave-dirt, and you lay there, staring at the ceiling. You touch the crystal lamp next to your bed to light up the room, but that’s no better, really.

John knocks, but doesn’t wait for your answer before coming in, a dark wolf with blue eyes trotting in on his heels. “Go on, Soap,” he says, and Soap hops up onto your bed and lays down half on top of you, his head on your shoulder, tail wagging. John pats him on the head like he’s just a dog. “He’ll keep an eye on you.”

It should probably feel weird to cuddle up with a werewolf, since he’s really a man, and you’ll have to face that silly, crooked grin in the morning, but you need someone to cling to, and you’re to proud and cautious to cling to John. “Thank you,” is all you have it in you to say.

“He gets nightmares too. Usually sleeps across someone’s bed. I’m sure he’d be happy to stay with you while you’re here.” John says it simply, without a drop of judgment or condescension, and scratches behind Soap’s ear. “He’s a real good listener when he can’t talk back too.” He withdraws, tapping the light and throwing the room into darkness again.

You don’t even hear the door click shut. You bury your face into the thick fur around Soap’s neck and fall asleep almost instantly.

When you wake up again, it's with a very large, very naked man on top of you.

You yelp, scrambling back on your pillows. Johnny’s eyes snap open at your first movement, on high alert before he’s all the way awake. He scrambles too, and falls right off the side of the bed with a solid thud.

"Oh! Johnny I'm so sorry," you look down at him from the edge of the mattress, trying not to laugh. "I forgot you were here."

"It's alright, lass. I didna mean to startle ye. Ah shift back overnight sometimes. Price didnae remember to warn ye." He sits up and leans against the bed, forearms folded over each other. He looks no worse for wear, and like he slept as solidly as you did, those last few hours. There’s a faint imprint of lace from your nightgown on his face, and half of his hair is stuck straight up, the rest pressed flat. "Are ye feelin' better?"

“I am. Thank you for staying with me.”

“S’nothin’ really. Nicer sleepin’ with you than Gaz, he kicks awl night long. An’ Nox doesnae like me none, so I cannae stay with Ghost.” He grins. “Price lets me stay but he makes me sleep at the foot of the bed like a dog. Sometimes a man wants a cuddle, ye ken?”

You giggle. “I ken.”

"Really livin' up to yer name, aye Sweetpea?"

You laugh again. "Johnny, you know that's not my name, right?"

"No? What is it?" He shakes his head when you tell him. "I like Sweetpea better. Suits ye."

"Me too," you tell him. It has no connections to your previous life. It just reminds you of the pretty pink, purple, and white flowers that grow on delicate, curling vines that you like to grow over the side of the chicken coop.

There's a knock on the door, and Johnny leaps up to see who it is. You have to hold your hand up quickly to avoid getting an eyeful of things you're not supposed to see. He's absolutely shameless-- you suspect he wouldn't think twice about strolling down the hallways without a scrap on. You have a curiousity about men's bodies that you're too bashful to indulge, even if you're pretty sure that Johnny would stand still and let you look as long as you liked. Well, maybe not stand still. But you doubt he would mind.

It's Ghost at the door. He doesn't wait for an invitation to come in, but he has clothes for Johnny hung over his arm, so you don't mind. Honestly, you can bear a few overzealous men who feel entitled to your space for a few days, because after that you'll get to go home and get back to your life.

Ghost positions himself between you and Johnny, just as he had yesterday. "Price said you 'ad a bit of an episode earlier. You olright?"

"Just fine," you say brightly. "No need to worry."

"Och, let him worry, hen. He likes ta do it."

"I'm really fine," you insist.

"You want to visit the mausoleum? Might make it feel more real."

You'd be more interested in going there to visit your mother's grave, if you're going at all, but you think that you'll wait for a sunnier day. A gray, dreary morning like the one outside your windows is no balm for dark memories or old wounds. Sunshine might be. "Not today," you say. "Maybe tomorrow." You get out of bed as gracefully as possible, well aware that you have an audience. "Perhaps the two of you could step outside for a moment while I get dressed?"

Ghost glances behind him, checking to see if Soap is covered up enough for him to move, and then walks over to your closet and pulls out a screen that you hadn't noticed sitting in the corner there, and sets it up. "There you go, Sweetpea. You'll need help with all your fastenin's anyway, won't you?"

You imagine that he's smiling under the mask, more than a little smug about it, but you let it slide. "Very thoughtful."

"Try to be."

The blank face of his mask gives you nothing when you glance over, aside from that he’s looking back. It’s not the first time that you’ve wished for more insight into what he’s thinking, but there’s a gravity to his attention that you swear was never there before, and it prickles at the back of your neck even after you duck out of sight.

You choose a sunny yellow dress today, to counter the deluge outside, and remove the silk scarf wrapped around your head so you can twist your braids on each side from your brow back to the nape of your neck, pinning the lengths into a knot. You’ll have to redo them soon, but without Kate and her wife to help you, you know it’ll take hours, if not most of a day.

You walk over to where Ghost is sitting and turn your back to him so he can button it up for you. He hands you his gloves to hold while he does so, and you run your hands over the detail of white leather bones stitched on over the well-worn black leather, decoration and extra protection both. Idly, you slip one on, but your hands are so small in comparison to his that you have to stretch your hand out just to get your fingers arranged inside it properly. He stands behind you, and leans over you to gently pull them from your hands, as though to underline again how much bigger he is than you are.

The top of your head brushes his chest when you tip your head back to look at him. “Thank you,” you say.

“I’m always ‘appy to ‘elp,” he says. “I’m with you for the mornin’ anyway. Might as well make myself useful, eh?”

“Stuck minding me?” you tease, sweeping around to fold back the sheets on your bed, only to find that one of them had already done it. Ghost, most likely, judging by how neat it is. You touch his arm lightly in silent thanks, and the three of you leave your room together.

Other than insisting you eat breakfast (served in a communal dining hall, where they insist on bringing things to you rather than let you suffer the indignity of standing in a line, and watch you eat with unnerving intensity), they’re content to follow you around as you refamiliarize yourself with the castle, mapping out changes so you don’t get turned about looking for anything. You find a number of familiar faces here and there, and have an perplexingly similar conversation with anyone you know, where they welcome you back cheerfully, and grow a bit quiet and nervous when you insist that you won’t be staying long, and when you try to press them on that, you’re ushered out, told they’re too busy to chat, and that you’ll find time to catch up later.

You suspect that Ghost and Johnny are the source of their nerves, but both of them always seem to be a few paces out of (human) earshot, and minding their own business, talking about something else quietly between them.

"Where's Kyle?" you ask as you're hustled out of the the healer's work shop and back out into the hallway. It’s become abundantly clear, no matter how well they feign innocence, that your hulking shadows are making the staff nervous, and you decide not to subject anyone else to their company. If you can slip away from them later, you might be able to have an actual conversation.

“Prob’ly ‘oled up in ‘is workshop,” Ghost says. “Some weeks we ‘ardly see ‘im.”

“Wizardy shite,” Johnny adds, his tone disapproving. “As if there aren’t a thousand ways ta blow shite intae bits withoot wigglin’ yer fingers. Can blow up flour, did ye know, Sweetpea? In barrels isnae much different than black powder.”

“Still useful to have a little magic,” you say, flipping your palm over and conjuring a flame in the centre of it. It’s one of the few spells in your cache, and you’ve mostly just used it to light candles and the stove. Your lessons barely dipped beyond simple control— You’d been told that magic was no proper pastime for a lady. When you think back on it now, you think it’s more that your father never wanted you to have defenses that he could not control, or that could be used against him. A grim thought, from this side of things.

“Forgot you ‘ave a little magic in you.” Ghost holds his hands above yours, feeling the heat coming off the small flame. “Come on, pet. Let’s find Kyle. Might be enough to pull ‘is nose out of ‘is books.”

You close your hand, extinguishing the flame, and let them guide you through a few corridors and up a spiraling stone staircase.

Johnny hesitates at the door, nose wrinkling at the slight, hard to identify smell of complex magical wards that are carved neatly into the doors. You can feel the slight hum of it in your teeth. Ghost pushes the door open without knocking (you think all four of these men might be allergic to knocking), and steps inside.

You follow, and stop right there in the doorway while Ghost ventures in further. Kyle is shirtless, doing pushups over a heavy looking book. He doesn't look up, doesn't even stop when he turns the page, just continues the exercise one handed. He's in perfect shape, every muscle well-defined, putting even some of the finely-carved marble statues you've seen to shame. He has a frame for wiry muscle, but he's worked so hard that he's gotten bulky too, and although he's not as broad as Soap or as big as Ghost, it's clear that he's stronger than most men. Certainly stronger than men of his occupation have any need to be.

"What do you want, Ghost?" Kyle asks, still focused on his reading. "I'm busy, you know."

"Brought our girl by to see you, and you don't even bother lookin' up."

Kyle’s attention does snap up at that, brown eyes sliding past Ghost’s legs to you, still hovering in the doorway, Johnny a step behind, peering over your shoulder. Kyle scrambles to his feet, sending the book flying with a gesture. It settles on the desk behind him as he steps around Ghost, dusting his hands against his trousers before he takes yours, pulling you more fully into the space. His skin gleams with a thin sheen of sweat, but he's not the least bit out of breath. “Come on in, Sweetpea. Did you come all the way up here just to see me?”

“Of course,” you say. It’s a silly question, although now that you look around the space, you’re gripped by curiousity. The circular room is lined with bookshelves, each full of thick, leather and linen-bound tomes that hum with power. The whole room sings like a chorus, the sound not in your ears, but tickling the back of your mind instead. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to. I don’t want to interrupt, of course, if you’re working on something.” Although, now that you're looking, it seems like he’s working on many things, all at once. He has a carousel of research tomes open next to the desk, and neatly written pages laid out over the desk to dry, a stack of opened and unopened correspondence in a basket hanging from the side, ingredients measured out by a shelf full of bottles and jars of strange and familiar ingredients, and there are unlit candles set around the perimeter of an open area on the floor, a circle of iridescent tile set into the stone, pale and glittering.

“Nothing important this moment. Just studying while I wait for ink to dry. The mind grows dull if you don’t take the time to keep it sharp.” He glances at Johnny meaningfully, and receives a rude gesture in response.

“There’s more’n just books if ye want to keep sharp,” Johnny says, his voice flinty. “Isnae the only way to learn, ye know.”

You glance at Ghost. His mask looks back at you, blank as ever. “There’s a place for books, and a place for practical application,” you say diplomatically. “Wisdom can be found in many places.”

“In a pretty girl, for one,” Ghost says approvingly. “Would be good for you to crack a book once in a while, Soap. And for you to spend a little less time ‘oled up in ‘ere.” His head turns toward Kyle.

“I have a lot to do, you know,” Kyle says. “I can’t just shove everything to the side whenever I please.”

You drift closer to the desk, peeking at the tome he was referencing earlier, the pages opened to a chapter on illusion spells. Curious, you glance to his notes, humming with interest at the first page you glance at. It’s something about setting spells of illusion into fabric, weaving magic into the very stitches. “Are you trying to make a cloak of shadows?” you ask, picking up the page carefully by the edges, still mindful of the mostly dried ink.

Kyle looks over at you and smiles, but it’s all teeth. “Something like that. I didn’t know you were interested in magical theory.”

“She’s got a little sorcery in ‘er,” Ghost explains. “Maybe you should give ‘er a lesson or two. While she’s ‘ere.”

Your ears perk up at that, and you drop the paper back to the desk, forgetting it entirely. “Would you?” you ask excitedly. “I really would love to learn more.”

Kyle slips his shirt back on and beckons you over to one of the bookcases, smile turning sly and conspiratorial. “Can you give me a hand Sweetpea? I need something off the top shelf.”

You look up at the top shelf, which is well out of your reach. “Kyle, I think maybe you should ask Ghost.”

“Sorry, pet, I’m busy keepin’ Soap from pilferin’ alchemical ingredients.”

"Wasnae pilferin'! Just takin' a wee looksie. Isnae a crime."

"Soap," Kyle says pleasantly. "If I find anything missing we are going to have a long talk about it." He shakes his head lightly, sweet brown eyes finding yours, amused.

"D'ye think he means a good rough fuck?" Johnny asks Ghost, not quite quiet enough for you not to hear it. "Or an actual chat? Because that's goan ta change what I do here."

"I really don't think I can help," you say to Kyle, ignoring Johnny's query as much as you can. "Unless you'd like me to climb the shelves."

"Here." He crouches down in front of you and hugs your knees to his chest, other hand a higher on the backs of your thighs to hold you steady, and pops up. You let out a little shriek, and press your hands against his strong shoulders for support. "Don't worry, Sweetpea, I've got you. Now, can you grab that slim blue volume to the right? The one with no title on the spine."

Scanning the neat row of books, you locate the one he means and pick it up. "Ive got it," you inform him, laughing. "Now please put me down."

He slides you down his front carefully, adjusting his grip, your skirts bunching up and exposing your stockinged calves, and he holds you just above him for a moment. You loop your arms around his neck reflexively, holding the book behind him. He looks up at you, so dazzlingly handsome, you're almost surprised that he's real.

"Kyle," you remind him gently. "Please put me down."

“You sure?” he asks, bringing you down just a little more, so that your face is just above his own. “You look a bit tired today, princess. Could just carry you around for the rest of the day if you like.”

“That will not be necessary,” you say firmly. “But it’s a very kind offer.”

You hear a snort from the other side of the room, but you’re not sure if it comes from Ghost or Johnny. “Nothin’ kind about it,” Johnny says, crossing his arms. “Bastard just likes the idea of bein’ pressed up against ye all day.”

“You slept in her bed last night,” Kyle reminds him. “There’s no need to be jealous.”

“Ahm no’ jealous! Yer just bein’ a fandan charmer tryna cop a wee feel, an’ ye willnae admit ta it.”

You look over at Ghost, and he shakes his head. You imagine that he’s rolling his eyes, just as exasperated by the two of them as you are. He comes to your rescue though, carefully pulling you out of Kyle’s arms and setting you back down on the floor. “Thank you, Ghost,” you say archly, shaking your crumpled skirts out with one hand.

“Sorry, Sweetpea,” Kyle says, and you can’t help but note that he certainly doesn’t sound sorry. “If you read the first chapter of this tonight, we can do a lesson in the morning. This will probably be a step up from whatever paltry lessons the old wizard gave you— I know he took offence to the idea of training you at all, the closed-minded old bastard. If you have any questions, make notes, and we can go over it.” He taps the top of the book you hold. “You can write in it, if you like. I’ve scribbled in the margins a few times myself.”

You tuck the book into your pocket. “Thank you, Kyle. I appreciate that.”

“Anything for you, Sweetpea.”

You hesitate, a bit nervous to ask a favour when he’s already agreed to take time out of his day to give you a lesson in something you’re not sure you have enough talent in to warrant. He’s cleary a busy person, and you don’t want to waste his time.

Kyle senses your hesitation, and reaches for your hand, squeezing reassuringly. “Anything,” he repeats, brown eyes oh-so earnest.

Your ears feel hot. Flirting comes as easily to him as breathing, and even though you’re sure he means little by it, by his relationship with Johnny and the claim that John has laid on you, it’s hard not to grow flustered when he directs the full force of that sunshine smile at you. “Did you ever, um, help your sisters with their hair? I’d like to have a bath this afternoon, and wash my hair, but it’ll take me ages to rebraid it alone. I would really appreciate an extra set of hands if you have a spare minute tomorrow.”

He grins at that, pleased to be able to help you with something that Ghost and Johnny are ill-equipped to. The scar on his cheek dimples slightly when he smiles this hard, the slight flaw in his complexion more a dashing accessory to his charm than any detractor. “Would be happy to help. Do you have everything else you need? Oil? Curl cream?”

You hadn’t thought to check what was in the cupboard in the bathroom. “I’m not sure,” you admit.

“I have some. I’ll bring them by your room later this afternoon, just in case.”

Ghost offers to walk you back to your room, leaving Johnny behind to discuss something with Kyle, although as soon as the door closes, you hear a crash and a series of colourful swear words. You glance behind you as Ghost ushers you down the stairs. “Should we—”

“No. Trust me, Sweetpea. They’re just fine, and not doin’ anything you want to see.”

“Oh.” The implication warms you from the tips of your ears to somewhere in your belly.

“You’ve got the lads all worked up,” Ghost adds, as though you needed more context. “Competin’ with each other to get a smile out of you. Let ‘em blow off a little steam.”

“I don’t understand why they’re so concerned with me, if they have each other,” you say, trailing one hand over the wall, feeling the bumps of cool stone and seams between the cut blocks as you descend. “And John has made no secret of his intentions.”

He touches your arm to halt you, and moves past, taking a few extra steps so he stands below you, the near-hidden gleam of his eyes on level with yours. The two of you are alone here, where the curve of the stairs create a private universe, a pocket of stone and crystal light casting meagre shadow. "What are your intentions?" He asks. "Are you goin' to just let 'im take what 'e pleases?"

"I intend to go home," you say. "I won't be staying."

"Olright, maybe you do go 'ome. And what'f Kyle or Johnny came sniffin' round to court you themselves?"

"They won't."

"Why wun't they? You're a ray of sunshine sweet girl. You're the only one that don't see it."

"Ghost--"

"No, hush up for a moment, princess. You've got the wrong idea. I personally threatened every man that so much as looked your way. For years. Din't think about 'ow that'd make you feel. You're beautiful. Enough to chase, enough to go to bloody war for." His body is still, save for the slightest twitch of his fingers. “I don’t know why you can’t see it. You make us all crazy.”

The surety that John would really let you go slips as Ghost speaks, something fundamental about your footing in the world shifting uneasily beneath you. You had found comfort in the idea that you were quotidian, unremarkable. That the crown alone was aggrandizing, and you could pass unnoticed without it. Now you wonder if you’ve ever gone unnoticed, or if it was just that you had been too obtuse to see. “It doesn’t matter,” you insist. It’s easier to reject what he says outright, even if Ghost has never lied to you, never given you a reason to doubt his words. The ground settles. “I will be going home in a few days, and once John has my official endorsement none of you will have to keep an eye on me again.”

“You won’t rid yourself of me that easily,” he says firmly. “Keepin’ you safe’s one of the only jobs that I do that’s worth doin’. I promised your mum I would, an’ I don’t intend to break my oath just because you don’t think you’re worth it.”

“My mother asked you to?” You had always thought Ghost’s orders had come from your father, setting the quiet, faceless, black-clad knight on your heels, as close as a shadow, only leaving your side when the king sent him off to fight, somewhere far and away. “Why?”

“Figured she could tell I ‘aven’t got an ounce of ambition in me. Used to, before I came ‘ere. Didn’t do me any good. Can’t trust my own head, sometimes. But if I can trust what’s ‘ere—” He puts his hand to his chest, head tipped slightly to the side. “— Then I know I can trust what’s in there.” He lifts his hand and taps his finger against your forehead lightly.

You blink at him, surprised by how much he’s said all at once. Abruptly, he turns around and continues down the stairs, finished the conversation. You spur yourself back into motion, sweeping your skirts up with one hand so you don’t trip. There’s no doubt that you could trust Ghost to catch you, but the risk of sending you both tumbling down the long spiral staircase has you moving cautiously.

He stays with you for a bit, offering help unbraiding your hair and unbuttoning your dress, and leaves without protest when you ask him to. Predictably, he’s quiet the entire time, as though he used up his daily quota of words all at once in the stairway.

You lay out everything you need close to the tub, and sink into a hot bath, sighing. This is perhaps one of the few things you really did miss about castle life— Hot running water. If you wanted a hot bath in town, you would either have to go to the public bathhouse, or spend a good hour boiling enough water to fill a tub at Kate’s house.

You hum happily to yourself, which turns to singing out loud, the acoustics in the tiled room too good to resist. You sing your way through a number of folk songs as you run a cloth over your skin and scrub your hair clean, hot water and soap washing away what little of the darkness from that morning that company and distraction hadn’t banished, clinging shadows in the corners of your mind scoured clean again.

You pull the plug and let the water start to drain, and stand up, wringing your hair out before you reach over to the towel you’d set aside for yourself, bracing you hand on the side of the tub.

“What are you two muppets doing?” John’s voice coming through the cracked open door startles you. And it startles Johnny and Kyle too, because they tumble through the door onto the tiled floor, landing on top of each other in a heap.

You clutch the towel to your front, unable to keep yourself from letting out a surprised shriek. It takes a moment for surprise to give way to anger, your shocked, wide-eyed gaze traveling from Johnny’s red face to Kyle’s guilty expression to John in the doorway, a complicated mix of stony anger and surprise in his blue eyes. Both emotions fade as his attention lingers on your exposed legs, crawling up slowly.

“I came to drop off— But he was—” Kyle starts to try to explain himself.

“Dinnae try to blame tha’ on me, ye fuckin’ roaster, Ahm no’ a’ fault for what yer doin’,” Johnny cuts him off angrily, shoving Kyle off of him. “Yer no’ better than me just ‘cause ye weren’t here first.”

“I wouldn’t have—”

You level a glare at him that has his mouth shutting so fast that you can hear the click of his teeth. “Get out.”

The two of them scramble up and nearly fall over themselves trying to get out as quickly as possible, mortified to have been caught. They start sniping at each other before they’ve even gotten out of earshot.

John, however, doesn’t budge from the doorway. You direct your fury at him. “John. Get out.”

He doesn’t scramble to obey like the younger men did, as is he has any more right to be there than they did. “Sweetpea,” he says evenly, as though he expects to be able to talk you down from your very justified anger with a few measured words.

“Now,” you snap. “Before I lose my temper.”

He hesitates a moment longer, but the look on your face makes him reconsider trying to have a conversation with you for the moment, and he leans into the room just enough to grasp the door handle and pull it closed behind him as he retreats.

You look at the ceiling for a long moment, swallowing down the urge to scream.

By the time Ghost comes to fetch you for dinner (unsurprising that the other three didn’t have the nerve) you’ve mostly calmed down, untangling your emotions as you do your hair. You hope that John will have news of your cousin’s witness, so you can count down the days. The longing for home has intensified, and all you want is to curl up in your bed in Kate’s house and cry. If it will be weeks, you’ll ask if you can go home in the interim, and come back when the time comes to make your speech.

Ghost helps you button up your dress. You’re so tired of needing help from them. Your ire bleeds over, and you’re snappy with him too, annoyed that you’ve had to spend so much time with men lately. Aggravated that you’re forced to rely on them for something as private as getting dressed, when they shouldn’t even be alone with you in your room to begin with.

You apologize on the way down the stairs, however. Ghost just chuckles in response. “Even when you’re snappin’, you’re a peach,” he says. “Don’t think you missed a single opportunity for a please and thank you. Can’t ‘elp yourself from bein’ sweet.”

“Well, you didn’t do anything,” you say. “I’m not angry with you, I shouldn’t be rude.”

“Think it would be a bit of a lark, you bein’ rude.”

You laugh, and it clears away some of the lingering bitterness, like sediment washing away downstream. You feel remarkably clear-headed when you enter the dining room and face the three sets of guilty eyes.

All three of them start to speak at once, and stop as soon as you raise your hand. “I don’t want to hear it,” you say firmly. “All three of you are grown men, and you should know better than to behave so shamefully.”

John frowns, not happy to be receiving the same share of the blame. “Sweetpea, I wasn’t—”

“I am not finished.” You cut him off with a sharp look. “I know I do not need to chastise any of you. All of you were in the wrong. But I share some of the blame too, allowing you all free access to my space in the first place. So here is what will change. One, I would like a lock on my door. No more popping in without permission. Two, you will all learn how to knock. Three, I would like a lady to accompany me for the rest of my stay here. It is not appropriate for me to accept assistance from any man with dressing, and I do not require shadows following me everywhere I go.”

Ghost shifts beside you. “Now ‘old on,” he says. “You need protection.”

“I need no such thing. I do not believe there are assassins waiting around every corner for me.”

“I should be with you,” he insists. “If somethin’ ‘appens—”

“What do you expect is going to happen?” you ask hotly. You’ve lived on your own for years, and your hiding place was apparently well known to everyone. If an assassin was coming to dispatch you, they would have already come. The opportunities had likely been plentiful.

“Ghost is right. You need to be kept safe.” John holds up both hands when you look at him, half a surrender and half a plea for you to hear him out. You raise your eyebrows slightly, waiting. “A compromise. A fighting woman. Someone that can help you with anything you need, and can defend you if something were to happen.”

You incline your head. It’s a reasonable compromise. “That would be acceptable.”

“Farah?” Kyle asks.

“If she’ll say yes, she’d be the person I trust most with Sweetpea’s safety.” John glances at you, and offers you a little smile, like he’s not sure that you’re entirely done scolding. “You’ll like her. I’ll have her meet you in town tomorrow. Want you fitted for something nice to wear for your speech.”

“There is a closet full of perfectly nice dresses in my room,” you say. “I do not need anything else.”

“Indulge me. Your cousin’s man will be here tomorrow night, and the day after we’ll have you make your statement.” John’s smile widens, turning the slightest, inexplicable bit smug. “Want you to look your best, if it’s to be your last day as a princess, hm? And then on to better things.”

You sigh. It can't hurt to give in on this matter, since you won't have to stay much longer. “Very well, John. Although I think it’s a waste.”

The look in his deep blue eyes is inscrutable, but his smile doesn't slip. “I disagree. Nothing you let me give to you could ever be a waste.”

***

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - Divider by CafeKitsune

[mmogurl]

In The Shadow of Dragons Chapter 3: Rude Awakening

18+ | 4.5k | Daemon Targaryen X Female OC | possessive, protective, objectifying, simping, raunchy Daemon | Uncle / niece incest, Smut, Dragons, Political Intrigue, Plotting, Murder, lots of old timey concepts that don't make a lot of sense today, but are still kind of hot/fun.

Now just how is Daemon going to pull this one off? Continuing the story from Daemon's POV.

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7 | CH 8 | CH 9 Also on AO3

The guards outside the King’s chamber regarded him with a suspicious glare, but Daemon just gave a smile and pushed his way inside despite their presence.

“Good morrow, Your Grace!” Daemon shouted loudly as he walked into the room, already fully dressed for the day and as chipper as any man could be so early in the morning.

Viserys startled awake and just as Daemon expected, he looked like he had been dragged through some maester’s leech pit. His face was pale with red-rimmed eyes, tired and blood-shot.

“What is the meaning of this, Brother!? Has someone perished?” Viserys sat up, pulling the sheets around his waist as he looked at his brother with disoriented concern.

“No, no. No one has died, Brother. There’s no need to worry,” Daemon was already opening the curtains to let streams of bright morning light into the room, knowing it would add to the king’s discomfort. “Quite the opposite in fact.”

He turned back to Viserys with a smirk plastered deviously across his face, looking like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. “I do have a solution to all of your troubles, dear brother! Where our precious little Ryna is concerned.”

The king rubbed his head gingerly, letting out a low groan as he turned away from the sudden brightness. “By the Mother’s mercy! I hope whatever you have to say is quick. My head feels like it’s about to split in two.”

Ah yes, exactly as I had hoped.

“Oh, it most assuredly will be brief,” Daemon chuckled, but not without a small pang of sympathy. He’d been in Viserys’ shoes quite a few times, so he knew the feeling all too well.

He stood at the edge of his brother’s bed, resting his hand against the corner post as he continued, “But, first, I want to make sure we are on the same page. I know you wish to see Princess Ryna married, but to a suitable match, yes?”

“Yes, of course!” Viserys shouted clearly irritated by Daemon’s stating of the obvious. “But the girl will not give a man a second glance, let alone a chance to court her!”

Daemon tried to temper the smirk that pulled at his lips as he answered. “Quite simply, Brother… I’ve found a match for our darling girl that she will agree to. No, better than that, a match she will desire.”

The king looked up at Daemon, confusion wrinkling his brow. “And just who in the Seven Hells is the fellow then!?” he grumbled, cogs slowly turning in his groggy head as he tried to figure it out.

The look of bewilderment on his brother’s face was priceless. Oh, this is just too good. He let the anticipation build a little longer before giving the answer he had longed to say.

“Myself, of course,” Daemon finally replied with smug nonchalance.

“You and Ryna!?” Viserys was instantly wide awake and alert, the shock of his words jerking him to the edge of the bed as though he meant to stand. His eyes grew wide as saucers and his mouth fell open slackly. “You want to wed my girl?”

Oh, this is even better than I imagined.

“Yes, Ryna and I, but there is no need to look so startled, Brother,” he retorted, making an effort to keep his voice level so as not to give away his true amusement. “I’m sure once she hears of my proposal, she will gladly accept. Why, it was practically her idea.”

“And what makes you so sure she’ll agree? Have you been conspiring behind my back to ruin another of my daughters?” his voice was growing angry, making his distrust of Daemon’s ‘plan’ known.

Daemon rolled his eyes at Viserys’ question. He knew his brother had a tendency to always think the worse of him, but the accusation still stung.

“Conspiring behind your back? Hardly. I prefer to think of it as finding an effective solution to a problem we both agree needs to be addressed,” he said allowing a touch of frustration to color his words.

“And for your information, it was your lovely daughter who approached me at the banquet last night laden with worries,” he continued, keen to cement his intentions before the king. “She feared you might force her into a marriage that she does not wish.”

Daemon smiled again at the thought of his conversation with Ryna, feeling a surge of excitement at the memory of her in the dark. “I inquired why she’d had such difficulty in choosing a suitor and she admitted that she prizes her Valyrian heritage above all, but does not care for her brothers. And then after speaking to you, it seemed the answer just fell into place.”

Viserys stared at him for a long moment before letting out a groan, rubbing his temples again.

Come on, Brother, you ’re so close. You know it’s the only way.

Finally, the king spoke with a thoughtful, yet slightly melancholy tone. “My lady-wife held onto the hope that Ryna might embrace Aegon as a husband, either by choice or compulsion. The match was a strong one to preserve our bloodline, so I had no objection to it. Yet, I desired for my daughter to have agency in her own contentedness, for we both know that my first born son…. Well, he is not particularly suited for the role of husband to a gentle and spirited young maiden such as my second daughter.”

“That boy is an utter twat! He is even more scandalous than I,” Daemon hissed back with incredulity at the Hightower cunt’s aspirations. How dare she even plant the seed of marrying that rapacious little shit to his darling niece.

The king gave a small resigned sigh, accompanied by a defeated nod. “So, it would seem,” his brother replied, sounding less than happy that his solution would be coming from Daemon. “I should have you sent to the Wall for even suggesting such a thing, Brother. I must say I am not entirely fond of the situation, but I cannot argue with its potential merits. If Ryna consents to this union, then I will permit it.” Viserys paused for a moment and then his eyes sprung open as he added, “With condition.”

Inwardly, Daemon felt his heart leap wildly, but he did his best to remain composed and kept an expression of mild disinterest on his face.

Ah! I ’ve won. Victory is mine!

Daemon raised an eyebrow and held up his hands in a gesture of mock submission. “Name your terms, dear brother,” he urged, remaining mostly stoic. He didn’t want to appear nervous or overeager, in fear it would drive the king’s price higher. But the truth was, he would do anything, sacrifice anything, to possess that beautiful nymph that was his niece. It was a burning need that he must quench.

“The first condition is that you will not lay with her until the wedding night,” Viserys declared, his demeanor stern and unwavering. “There has already been enough talk of Rhaenyra’s exploits and I won’t have Ryna’s reputation tarnished as well. I assure you, should a single whisper from a servant reach my ears, I shall swiftly send you to the Wall to take your vows as a brother of the Night’s Watch.”

The King knows me all too well! Daemon thought to himself, feeling his enthusiasm ebbing slightly at the thought of not having his sweetling before the wedding. Then again, he liked the idea of using creativity to circumvent the rule.

“Agreed,” Daemon conceded with a nod. “What else?” he inquired, silently hoping the next demand wouldn’t as torturous.

“Secondly, you will court her in a proper and honorable manner. You will perform all the duties expected of a suitor. You will spend time with her, in appropriate settings. You will stroll with her in the garden, dance with her at gatherings, and present her with gifts. You will demonstrate to me that you are truly serious about her, that she is not merely a temporary amusement or a means to further your own ambitions.”

Viserys spoke slowly and deliberately, each word imbued with a sense of authority, his directives explicit and firm.

Daemon had to suppress a scoff. I don’t need some courtship game to make her fall for me. She’s all but ripe for the taking…

He kept his expression neutral, determined not to betray any hint of irritation while simultaneously appeasing his brother, and nodded in affirmation once more. “Very well, Your Grace. I shall be the epitome of courtly refinement, a suitor unlike any that King’s Landing has ever witnessed,” he promised as convincingly as possible.

Viserys laughed boisterously, his expression gladdening substantially. “I should like to see that, Brother.”

Don ’t sound so unconvinced, you prick!

Daemon fought hard to repress his grin, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth nonetheless. “Be careful, Brother,” he cautioned. “I just might surprise you in this.”

He paused a moment and then tried to conclude the conversation. “I suppose I should begin my courtship then, barring any further objections or stipulations from you, Your Grace,” he said, stepping back from the bed, unable to keep a hint of eagerness from his voice.

“Do not look so pleased, Brother. I am not finished yet,” Viserys said with a glaring smirk. It was clear he was beginning to enjoy holding this over Daemon’s head. “Should I be satisfied and give you my daughter’s hand, I expect you to behave as a proper husband would.” The king was sitting up at the edge of the bed now, arms crossed and sheets still covering the lower half of his body.

His next words made Daemon’s heart beat faster. “You will not see other women, you will comport yourself with decency, and I will expect to hear news of a child on the way within a year of the wedding.”

By the Gods …

Everything the king was demanding was to be expected, but the thought of having to be a proper husband with all the obligations that came along with it was a struggle to bear. Surely his brother’s strong hand would grow lax after the wedding, for there was only so much a man like him could endure.

However, the final condition of Viserys’ terms made him stiffen with arousal. He could already imagine his beautiful girl full and round with his babe… Gods give me strength. The mere idea made him dizzy, but he knew he had to focus on the task at hand, so he pushed all thoughts of that glorious image as far back into his mind as possible.

Daemon finally spoke again with a hint of hesitation in his voice, knowing he needed to be on his best behavior so he wouldn’t lose this opportunity. “Of course, I will behave as an upstanding husband should. I have no heirs, save my twin daughters, and have wont of a male to carry on our name.”

“That pleases me to hear, Brother.” He gave Daemon a thin lipped smile, before letting out a conclusive sigh. “I have my doubts that you will be able to uphold your end of this bargain, but if you make good on your word… If the courtship goes well and it is what Ryna truly wishes, than I shall give my blessing and my second daughter’s hand in marriage.” The king took a moment to collect himself, and a more relaxed expression settled over his face, a hint of satisfaction in his features. “Perhaps it shall go a long way towards mending old wounds, Brother.”

Viserys opened his arms, welcoming his brother into an embrace. With a slight hesitation, Daemon accepted his brother’s gesture of goodwill and leaned in to encircle his arms around his back. It wasn’t often that the two shared such a moment of peace, and he found it refreshing that such a potentially hostile topic might end well. He clapped Viserys on the back before standing upright again, given neither man was taken to such displays of affection.

Daemon looked down at his brother with as much honesty as he could convey. “Old wounds and old grudges, Brother. Let us hope that I shall do us both proud.”

“Join the family for the morning meal and I will announce the courtship,” Viserys said with surprising fondness. “I do not look forward to the irate glances my lady-wife will surely give me from across the table, but The King has cause to make his own choices once in awhile.” He chuckled and laid back in bed, likely ready to slumber for another hour before rousing.

He chuckled, imagining the look on Alicent’s face when she found out. No doubt she will do her best to sabotage this courtship.

“I am quite eager to witness her reaction. I am almost certain steam will shoot from her nostrils.” Daemon replied with a hint of amusement in his tone, barely suppressing a grin. “But I will see you at breakfast, dear brother. Now, I must take leave. I have a princess to court.”

Viserys waved his hand in the air to shoo his brother away, his head already nestling into the plush pillows. With a satisfied nod, Daemon turned and left his brother’s chamber with a grin, already planning his next move.

He could feel the blood coursing through his veins, a burning passion igniting his every step as he moved closer to his prize. The thought of his sweet niece, soon to be his bride, fueled his desire and set him ablaze with a fierce intensity.

His hands curled into tight fights at his sides as visions of Ryna danced through his mind. Soon he would have her all to himself, and he would make her squirm and whine, begging and pleading for him. She many never fully grasp the extent of what he had endured, just to earn the chance to call her his own.

Daemon found himself walking down the hall towards his niece’s chamber, the desire to tell her of his victory, to hear her response and see her smile with delight, now almost irresistible. He knew that such thoughts were driven by his own impulsive nature, and that he must remain rational and patient for the time being, but he could not help himself.

He stood quietly at her door and listened, wondering if she was even awake yet. He heard the sound of shuffling inside the room and then the soft padding of bare feet across the floor.

He could only imagine what she would be wearing. A nightgown, so thin and flimsy it might as well be see-through, and her skin glowing in the morning light. He tried his best to push those lurid thoughts aside, but the mental picture of her was too enticing and it lingered persistently as he finally knocked on the door.

There was an abrupt silence from within the room, followed by hushed whispers as footsteps approached the door. A crack of light shined through and the outline of a young handmaid filled the doorway.

She spoke nervously with her head hung low, avoiding eye contact, “Greetings, My Prince. How may I serve you?”

He was annoyed for a moment that it wasn’t Ryna who had opened the door, but he kept his composure and nodded his head to the girl.

“I’ve come to speak with your mistress,” he replied in a tone of authority. “It’s a matter of great importance.”

“Pardon me. M’lady is not yet ready to receive you,” she said apologetically. “Would you be kind enough to wait a moment while I make her presentable?”

Daemon suppressed the growl that threatened to rise up, knowing he had little choice but to wait, especially if he was going to play by Viserys’ ‘proper’ game.

“Very well, but be quick about it,” he grumbled. “I haven’t got all day.” The last thing he wanted was to sit there while the maid brushed Ryna’s hair and tidied her gown. He wanted her now.

The handmaid nodded adamantly and replied with urgency, “I will make haste, My Prince.”

“See that you do,” he answered with finality as the maid disappeared behind the closed door.

He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms restlessly. The wait was a slow and excruciating one. He found himself tapping his foot impatiently as the sound of whispers drifted from within the room. The young women no doubt discussing the impropriety of receiving a male in her chambers at such an early hour.

His thoughts began to run wild as time passed, envisioning the scene inside the princess’ chamber. Ryna half dressed with ivory skin spilling out in all the right places, standing before her maid, looking beautiful and sweet. She was likely surprised and a bit flustered to have him at her door, and he could almost envision the rosy blush on her cheeks. The urge to open the door and push his way past the servant became so strong it was practically unbearable.

How will I ever survive this courtship?

The door suddenly opened, causing Daemon to look over with anticipation, only to be greeted by the sight of the same maid that had come to the door moments ago. He tried not to let his displeasure show at not seeing Ryna herself standing there in wait, but it only served to make his irritation grow.

“Well?” he inquired. “Is the Princess ready to receive me?”

“She is, My Prince,” the young woman said shyly and backed up, opening the door and standing behind it to let him enter the room unobstructed.

He strode into her chambers with measured steps, his gaze fixed intently on her petite frame. She was so deliciously small, hardly reaching his chin in height, and he savoured the thought of how soft and supple she would feel against his own body. His eyes devoured her from head to toe as a sly smirk crossed his face.

She wore a simple dress of crimson, the bodice lined in yellow gold with a black insignia of the three-headed dragon embroidered in the center of the bust. Her hair hung loosely against her shoulders, golden silver curls brushed out, but not yet braided. She was a sight for sore eyes, his in particular.

“You look lovely this morning, sweetling,” he said with a low rumble as he closed the distance between them. He reached out for her hand and brushed a light kiss against her knuckle.

His delightful, little niece blushed just as he thought she would, a charming look of innocent embarrassment upon her face. Daemon held onto her hand as she began to speak.

“Thank you, Uncle,” she replied nervously. “What brings you here? I was not expecting you.”

My sweet girl.

She was truly adorable with her shy demeanor and her struggle to look him in the eye. He was surprised how easily he had been able to cast aside years of torment with just the simple notion of her returning his affections. The very purity that had once kept him at bay now only served to heighten his desire to corrupt her further, to make her whimper and plead for more of his touch.

“A matter of great importance, my dear girl,” he continued, keeping the caress of his fingers light as he stroked the back of her hand. “I’m here with a proposition, and I should very much like to have your answer. Now.” He winked at her, keeping up the pretense for the handmaid that was still present.

“Oh?” she asked with a curious gleam in her eyes. “What could be so urgent that it could not wait for the morning meal?”

Daemon tried his utmost to resist the urge to seize her and draw her into his arms. The way she looked at him was almost more than he could stand. If only that blasted handmaid were not lingering, watching them like a hawk, he would have her bent over the bed in less than a second.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus on his words, rather than his cock. His voice was softer now when he spoke, but just as insistent, “I spoke to your father this morning… He has given me permission to court you, Niece. I would hear your decision immediately, for he wishes to announce it at breakfast.”

“What?” she looked remarkably surprised. “How!?”

He had to admit, her shock was a refreshing sight to behold. Daemon half expected the girl to throw herself into his arms at the news.

“I have my ways, sweetling,” he answered cryptically with a smirk. “But, first I need your answer. Will you allow me to court you?” There was a soft gasp from the maid and Daemon realized her presence wasn’t quite as aggravating as he’d originally thought. Who better to spread rumors like wildfire than the servant caste. Soon, everyone in the Red Keep would know that he was courting the princess.

And they will all know that she is mine. Just as it should be.

“I cannot believe you managed to convince him. Even for your velvet tongue, that is quite a feat, Uncle,” she looked thoughtful for a moment, as though considering everything that might have been said or promised to make it so. “And it was Father’s wish that we court? A test of devotion, I take it?”

“A test of devotion, indeed,” he said, nodding as he continued to hold and dote on the soft skin of her hand. “Though, I’m sure your father is still not entirely convinced of my sincerity.”

Suddenly, his free hand snaked around her slender waist, drawing her closer until their bodies were nearly touching. A startled gasp escaped the maid at the sight, and Daemon relished the knowledge that their little performance was received so well. He allowed his face to shift closer to her ear, so he could whisper.

“But I have every intention of winning your favor, my sweet, little princess. What say you, hmm?”

Ryna placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back to a comfortable distance once more. Her eyes brimming with eagerness, “Yes, positively yes!” She took both of his hands in hers with a beaming smile that made his chest ache.

She said yes. He had expected the answer, of course, but to actually hear it confirmed was a feeling he could have never truly anticipated. Years of pent up desire and frustration were starting to release and it took all of his restraint to not just kiss her there in front of the damned handmaid.

Daemon pulled her hands up to his lips so he could place a kiss on her skin once more.

“Very good, my sweet girl,” he said with a smug look of satisfaction. “Very good indeed.” Daemon allowed his voice to drop once more so only she could hear. “And I promise to court you properly, so long as you do your part and be a good girl for me. I will not abide any misconduct from my wife to be.”

His voice was practically dripping with mockery for he knew how to play this game. This was all a part of the dance, to lure his niece into giving herself up entirely to him. To make her his, once and for all.

“You know I will not go easy on you just because you are my favorite niece?” His gaze darkened and he allowed a small smirk to play about his lips.

“I w-would never!” she stuttered out anxiously as though he were actually serious. The poor girl was so flustered by what he’d said in front of her maid, that she didn’t even realize he’d been jesting.

He chuckled, amused by the uncertainty in her flickering gaze, and he couldn’t help but smile. He knew he would thoroughly enjoy himself during the coming moon, playing with her and indulging in his desires. However, it was also becoming obvious that the challenge of their courtship would test him like no other had before, as his lustful temptations gew harder and harder to resist.

Daemon smiled wolfishly. “Your decision pleases me greatly, sweetling,” he said in a low voice as he continued to place kisses against her knuckles. “Now we must get you ready. Quickly. We wouldn’t want to keep the king waiting, hmm?”

He let go of her hands regretfully and stepped back to allow the maid to take over. Daemon watched as the handmaid scurried back to the foreground and immediately began busying herself with finishing up Ryna’s morning routine.

With her touch gone, he longed to reach out and grab her once more. His hands burned with the irresistible urge to feel her body beneath his touch. It would be exquisite torture, having her close at hand and yet unable to take her in the way that he wished.

He could feel something primal and possessive stirring inside him at the thought. She was his and she always had been. Since she first came into this world, he had treasured her more than any other. And, once she came of age, he had fought against his desires, finding them wrong and ruinous, yet all of these years later she had chosen him of her own accord. Now, nothing would keep him from her again.

“Uncle,” she interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up in a daze. “I shall need some privacy. I’ll look forward to seeing you at the morning meal shortly.” She smiled, a hint of knowing in her eyes.

“Of course, sweetling,” he managed to get out.

His mind and body were suddenly at odds with each other. One part of him wanting to linger in the room just a moment longer, to catch another glimpse of her sweet smile, while the other part was more than eager to be out of there so that he could have a quiet moment to himself and gather his fraying control.

“I’ll be waiting…” It came out as more a growl than words and he mentally berated himself. You sound like an impatient little boy, you fool.

“Until we meet again, Uncle,” she spoke softly, before turning her head so that the maid could continue working on braiding her hair.

Daemon nodded to her with a grin, his eyes fastened on her for just a moment longer than appropriate, before turning on his heel and exiting the chamber. The door closed behind him and he leaned back against the cold stone wall. His eyes closed as he lout out a long, shaky breath.

Gods give me strength… Read Chapter 4

[deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth]

Im Gonna Crawl

Chapter 3 

  We pulled up to The Garden and travelled under the arches taking us to the back of the arena; a safe space to exit and enter. Even through the back we were unable to avoid the small and ever-increasing crowd already surrounding every bit of sidewalk real estate in a sloppy at best line. More like a hoard. Like Night of the Living Dead except it's just teenagers, lovers, and potheads. 

We walked the corridor, reaching the heart of the hall where a staggering number of roadies stood preparing, discussing. 

In the crowd I spotted Robert in the middle of the group looking slightly puzzled. He met my gaze and grinned, waving the roadies off, he strolled past them. 

“My darling girl, California.” He bared his teeth in a goofy smile. 

I looked at him puzzled. “I’m not from California.”

He shook his head back and forth. “No, but you bring the sunshine with you.” 

“You know, Cali is short for something.”  

“Do tell.” He quirked an eyebrow. 

I smiled. “You know it’s been so long I can’t seem to remember.” I teased a finger tapping my chin. 

His eyebrow raised further and I gave him a condescending smile. He opened his mouth but I shook my head. He relented and changed the subject. “I heard you got Pagey quite drunk.” He nudged my arm playfully. 

“I believe Mr. Page was drunk before I met with him.” I stated to which he gave me a look that implied he had figured as much. “He’s quite the character.” I added. 

“Ahh well, he can be a lot of things. Don’t judge too harshly, though.” His brows furrowed. “We’ve been touring too long. It gets harder the longer we go. He’s usually rather shy actually.” He shrugged. 

This was rather hard to fathom. “He didn’t seem shy to me.” 

Robert laughed. “The liquor. It gives him confidence.” 

“Confidence is one word for it. I’d say it makes him act like a cocky little asshole. I can't say I'm overly ecstatic to see him sober.  ”

. “You’re not wrong. But to be truthful, if that’s alright?” I nodded. “Hair of the dog.” He paused. “He’s drunk because he doesn’t want to deal with the inevitable hangover and you caught him off guard and at the wrong time. That drunk fool you’ve seen isn’t all he is.” He laughed once. “Alcohol and a beautiful woman are all it takes to drudge that pesky little demon you’ve met out of him.” He pinched one of my runaway hairs and tucked it behind my ear. “A very beautiful woman.” 

“Are you coming on to me, Robert?” I teased. 

His toothy grin beamed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He looked back over at the group of people surrounding the couches. “James has been brooding in the corner since he got here. I know his moods and what brings them on. So, no I’m not and will not be coming onto you… No matter how much I want to.” He winked. 

“You ready Robert?” Jonesy padded his way over to us. “Cali” He nodded softly; his smile timid. 

“California.” Robert corrected, his grin wide and toothy.

Jonesy raised his eyebrows, panic and blush rising on his Adonis face. “Is that your name? I’m terribly sorry. I must have misheard you earlier.” 

“No Jonesy.” Robert rolled his eyes. “It’s her new nickname.” He stated with childlike pride. 

“Aren’t nicknames supposed to be shorter than the person’s actual name?” Jonesy raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know Jonesy. Isn’t your nickname longer than your real name? Even Bonzo’s is longer.” Robert deadpanned.. 

“Touché.” He agreed. “Jimmy’s getting restless.” He pointed his thumb behind him. “Why is he sulking?” 

Robert gave a hearty laugh. “A pretty bird has his panties in a twist.” He winked at me. 

Jimmy was watching us, a sharp look in his eye as a couple roadies fought for his attention over a matter they likely desired more concentration for. The urge to glare like a toddler, far too strong. You're an adult. Behave. 

“Aye, you’re ‘ere!” Bonzo came bounding behind me, scooped me up in a bear-like embrace. 

I gasped as he embraced me, “Jesus, John.” 

“I like this one. Heard you gave the princess a run for his money.” His laugh, deafening and contagious. With a pat on the back he set me back and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Say, you got any Mary-Jane?” He wagged his eyebrows. 

“Sorry, I left it back at the hotel. You can have your way with it when we get back.” His brown eyes were deep and warm. Something about the golden hues made me feel warm, comforted, and safe. “You have beautiful eyes.” The sentiment was light.  

“Uh-oh Jimmy better buckle up or Bonzo here’s gonna steal his woman.” Robert wagged his brows fervently. 

I shook my head, looking down at my feet. “I’m sorry to break it to you boys but I’m already taken.” I regretted saying it the moment the words left my lips, it felt like a lie. IT IS A LIE. Come on, you can't be seriously rethinking the end to that relationship. When I looked back up Jimmy was standing behind Robert and Jonesy, his eyes on me. 

“That’s a terrible shame for us!” Robert beamed. “He’s a lucky fella.” 

“Let’s go.” Jimmy muttered impatiently before turning around and heading for the stage. 

“Jesus!” Bonzo sighed under his breath. He dropped his arm from my shoulders and gave me a face like he was in trouble. “Duty calls.”

Robert pecked my cheek as they all followed suit. Peter motioned for me to join him and a couple of backstage workers. “Gentleman, this is Cali. She’ll be working with us for the next week or so. Don’t bother her, don’t pester her, be gentlemen.” With one terrifying look they simply nodded. “Now get to work, for fuck sake.” 

“Hey, Peter!” A man wrapped in cords by the stage called for him. 

“Excuse me.” Peter’s irritation was apparent. I wondered if there was ever a time he wasn’t on some kind of edge. A time where his shoulders could lax, his mind could wander, and he could take a breath without it being hindered by another situation needing resolution. I supposed it was hard to keep four grown men living a teenager’s dream in check. 

“You must be Cali.” He was tall and domineering, eyes dark, energy not quite readable. “Richard.” He held his hand out to meet mine. “I’m the road manager. I take care of the boys and make sure they get everything they need or want.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” My smile forced. 

“Peter asked me to make sure you’re comfortable and have everything you need.” His mind very obviously focused elsewhere. “Anything you need?” 

“Actually, I was wondering if there was a phone I could use.” 

His eyes flashed as he grinned. “Follow me.” He turned and headed down a hall passing by multiple dressing rooms. He finally stopped at one and let me in. “There’s a phone in there you can use. Don’t be too long. The band shouldn’t be long with rehearsal.” 

He turned on his heels and sauntered back down the corridor. I closed the door behind me, fumbling to find the light switch. A quick glance around the room indicated it was in use by one of them. Hanging in an open-faced closet was a black velvet suit. I fingered the material, curious. Patches and sequins placed in precarious places creating flowers, dragons, planets, – Saturn to be precise – and odd embroidered symbols. Instantly I assumed this was Jimmy’s. It screamed, him. Dark, mysterious, confusing, asshole. 

I shook my head rid of him and picked up the phone. Taking a deep breath I dialed the number. It rang twice. 

“Hello?” It wasn’t Daniel. It was his roommate, Craig. I internally cringed. He was almost always around and always had the urge to put his two-cents into every conversation. Especially the ones he wasn’t a part of. 

  “Hey.” I sighed. “Is Daniel there?”

“Oh, hey Cali! So, you finally deigned to call? Daniel’s not very happy with you. You know–” 

“Is he there?” I cut him off. Am I seriously about to be lectured by this guy? Fuck off, pal.

“No.” 

“Well can you tell me when he will be there?” 

“Well I could, or you could just leave a message for him and I’ll have him call you when he’s available.” 

I leaned against the counter and exhaled a long breath, closing my eyes. “Just tell him I’ll call later.” 

“You know you really hurt him...” He pressed. 

“I hurt him?” My tone was incredulous. “That’s a joke, right?” 

“Hey, hey. No need to shoot the messenger.”

“Tell Daniel I’ll try him later. I’m busy.” I gave up. 

“Busy huh?” He made an unnecessary noise with his lips. “He told me what you’re doing… Shame, shame.” 

“What exactly is it that you think I'm doing? You know what? Never mind, fuck off, Craig.” I slammed the phone back on its cradle. “Fuck!” I yelled. 

“Now whose panties are in a twist?” I whirred around, startled. Jimmy leant against the doorway. What is with this guy and doorways? His eyes were full of curiosity, lips turned up at the corners. Of course he's amused.  

“I’m sorry, this is unprofessional but I don’t have the patience for you right now, Mr. Page.” I pushed myself off the counter. 

He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms against his chest. “You’re in my room.” 

“My apologies.” I mimicked his grimace and pushed past him. 

He grabbed a hold of my wrist and pulled me in close, his breath tickling my ear. I shivered under his touch. “If I find you back in here, I won’t be such a gentleman.” He moved his lips away and supported my eyes with his. The deep emerald of his iris’s stunning. 

I opened my mouth to speak but before I could he let go of my wrist and disappeared into the dressing room, closing the door in my face. 

“Twat.’ I breathed. 

* 

“What’s on your mind?” Jonesy lightly touched my forearm bringing me out of my reverie. 

“It’s nothing.” I shook my head and smiled at him. 

It was insisted that I join Jonesy and Robert in one of the limos back to the plane for an early supper before the show. I hadn’t seen Jimmy since he had closed the dressing room door in my face, my encounter with him lingered in electric fizzles just under the thin layer of skin on my wrist. 

“You haven’t touched your food.” Robert pressed. “Are you sure it’s nothing?” 

I looked up at him and forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m sorry, my mind is just elsewhere at the moment.” 

“Aye California! You ready to break into the good stuff?” Bonzo yelled from the doorway of the dining room wagging his eyebrows. He entered the room, Jimmy trailing along behind him, his usual dark cloud following wherever he went. 

Holding up a finger, I jumped up from my seat and padded into the other room where My luggage had been left. 

The thing about a big Jet plane is voices travel. 

“What did you do, Jimmy?” Robert was quiet in tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Percy.” Jimmy answered, his voice raw.  

“She was fine until–” Robert started. “She’s cool, man. Don’t mess thi–.”

`

“I didn’t do anything.” Jimmy cut him off. “Her phone call must have set her off. She left the room after she hung up.” 

“Shh.” I heard Jonesy. “You’re both idiots if you think she can’t hear you.” 

I grabbed the cigarette box that held a handful of joints and joined the boys in the other room. “Here you go, John.” 

“Bonzo.” He corrected me. He opened the case and passed me a joint. “Ladies first.” 

I took the joint and placed it between my lips, running my hands over my pockets looking for my lighter. 

“Here.” 

I looked up and Jimmy was standing in front of me, his lighter lit under the joint. He watched as I inhaled, his eyes burning into mine. He dropped his gaze and a shiver went down my spine. “Thanks.” He nodded in response. passing the joint to Bonzo I excused myself. 

Feeling slightly dazed by the major whiplash Jimmy was giving me, I walked out of the plane and descended the steps. When I was on solid ground I looked up to the sky, closed my eyes, and took in a deep breath, slowly exhaling. 

“Am I under your skin yet?” I hadn’t heard his approach. My eyes shot open. He took a swift step back and smiled; his eyes blank.

“No.” I said too quickly. 

His face contorted into an amused leer. His teeth dug into his lower lip as he looked me up and down. “Come.” He closed the space between us, his hand hovering over my hip. “Take the car with me.” He nodded toward the Cadillac, his eyes never leaving mine. 

The chaos he exuded had me frozen. I opened my mouth but failed—to his delight—to form words. He bit his lip again and grinned. “Breathe, sweetheart.” He pressed his hand to my hip, wrapping his fingers around me firmly. 

I took in a breath. “James—” 

“Aye, California!” Bonzo yelled. 

Jimmy took his hand off my hip and took a firm step back just as Bonzo exited the plane door. 

“This is some amazing shit!” He bounded down the stairs. “Why’d you leave?” 

“Just needed some air.” I smiled. 

“You too, Pagey boy?” He wagged his brows. 

Jimmy was unimpressed. “I’m heading to the venue. Cali agreed to come with me.” He smiled slyly. “Didn’t you?” He shot me a look. Just as I was about to protest, he added. “To use the phone there of course. You did say you needed to call… Daniel… was it?” 

How much of my conversation with Craig did he hear? I narrowed my eyes slightly and faked a smile. “Of course. I’ll see you there.” I nodded to Bonzo and turned on my heels. Jimmy ran ahead of me and held the car door open. I hopped in and scooched to the farthest seat, ignoring him as he followed me in. 

“Are your mood swings clinical or are you just deranged?” I was exasperated by the three different personalities of his that seemed to pop up unannounced.  

He rolled his eyes and ignored my question. “The Garden.” He murmured to the driver. As the car started moving, he slid across the seat until his shoulder lightly grazed mine. He turned his head towards me, his eyes staring forward. “I will win your heart.” He stated quietly, cocky. “Or at the very least this.” His fingered reached the hem of my shirt, his touch light as a feather against the skin of my lower abdomen.

I flicked his hand away. “You won’t.” I nodded in his direction. “There’s a whole seat beside you, please move.” 

“You’re suddenly so sure of yourself.” His hand moved to my knee. 

“I’m still sure of myself.” His hand moving up, fingers soft as feathers along the inside of my thigh. “Remove your hand.” My breath hitched to his amusement. 

He turned his face now to look at me. “Are you sure?” He stopped moving and pressed the pads of his fingers into my skin. He leaned in closer, his lips brushed against my cheek, a finger on his other hand pulling my chin toward him until his lips hovered over mine. “Should I stop?” His warm breath made me tremble. I started to turn my face away but he traced a finger along my jaw and pulled me back. “Tell me you want me to.” He whispered. 

  Despite the distaste in my mouth I trembled under his touch. “I…” It was a whisper, unwelcome and juvenile. Disappointment was evident in my tone. It was hard to tell whether it was directed at myself or at his pathetic attempt at a shot but nonetheless it had me weak.

The car came to a stop. Startled out of his trance I turned my attention to the window, we were outside the stadium. Turning back he clutched my chin softly holding me in his gaze once more. His thumb brushed along my lower lip, eyes suddenly warm, gaze almost somber. As casually as he could muster he leaned into me. 

I backed away from him, his eyes bewildered and filled with the harsh sting of rejection. “No.” I whispered before leaving the vehicle and disappearing into the venue without him. 

I raced through the halls, head swimming, lungs unable to hold the air I breathed. When I had run far enough, I stopped and leaned against the cold concrete wall. I slid down and sat on the floor clutching my head in my hands. 

My head was loud and aching. I couldn’t fathom my slight attraction to the man who so clearly was childlike in pursuit of someone who didn’t want him, someone who turned him down. And yes, you can totally want somebody but not want to be with them. Rejection must be something he rarely experienced. I was more irritated with myself than him. People are who they are. You can’t expect someone to be a fictionalized version you create. You have to let people be who they choose to be.

I pondered what distaste I held for his multiple personalities. I sighed heavily, my head growing louder and overwhelmingly hard to keep quiet as multiple trains of thought ran rampant within the walls of my skull. “God, I need a drink.” I whispered to myself. 

“I can help you with that.” Richard was looking down at me with a big grin. “Come.” He held his hand out to me, pulling off of the floor. 

“Thanks.” I followed him down the hall to the backstage that Peter had brought me to earlier that day. He guided me to the bar and poured me a glass of whisky. 

“Jimmy said you liked it.” He held the glass out to me. 

I could feel my cheeks starting to flush and internally kicked myself for letting him get me worked up. I was here to do a job and that’s all I wanted out of this experience. Richard noted my blush and the corner of his lips twitched. “Be careful.” He murmured ominously before vanishing into a new crowd of people. 

I sighed laboriously before I tipped the glass to my lips and took a sip. The burning of the liquid warm and soothing as it slipped down my throat. I smiled against the glass and took another sip.  

“Not chugging the bottle this time?” Jimmy bumped my shoulder coldly as he walked by. I watched him walk toward a group of young girls who immediately started fawning over him and to the surprise of a thin brunette he grabbed her hip, turned his head in my direction, making eye contact with me, his lips a hard line before taking the girl toward the dressing rooms. 

“Classy.” I shook my head. As I watched him recede from view, my heart dipped. I hated myself for the feeling. I looked down at the glass in my hand, “Fuck it.” I shrugged and consumed the contents in the glass before pouring another one. I drank the whole glass again, feeling it swirling in my blood and twirling in my head. Drinking had always been casual and still the cordial relationship we shared was quick to turn toxic.

“Whoa slow down, little girl.” Robert gave me a worried smile. “Did you get a hold of your man?” He shimmied his shoulders as he said it. 

“No, I haven’t tried yet. It can wait.” I swayed slightly on my feet but balanced myself out again.  

His eyes heavily surveyed me as he plucked the empty glass from my hand and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Come with me, darling.” His tone light and playful. He guided me down the same hallway Jimmy had taken the other girl down. I could feel my body tightening up, my muscles trying to run in the other direction. 

We stopped in front of the dressing room beside Jimmy’s. As I looked at the closed door my legs started to give out. “Whoa.” He breathed out, startled as he caught me and held me up. He held me so our chests were touching, his arms firmly around my waist. Looking up into his baby blue eyes I could see why so many young girls fell head over heels for the man.  

“You’re very beautiful, you know that?” It was a mere whisper. A thought not meant to be uttered. His laugh was a melodic, sweet honey on velvet with a rasp barely audible over its falsetto. 

The other dressing room door flung open, Jimmy trailing behind, his hand still firmly on the knob. His wide grin dropped at the sight of Percy and I, his mouth agape, brows furrowed. 

A thousand miniscule bouts of confidence sparked electric orange within me. With a grin belonging to a deviant, I smiled, a feather light touch of my hand on Robert’s dressing room door knob. “Excuse us.” I opened the door and pulled Robert in, closing the door behind us and locking it. I leaned against the door; my eyes widened in horror. It was childish and petty to say the least. “I’m so sorry.” I whispered to Robert. 

“He’s going to think we’re in here having a quick shag. He’s going to have my head, you know that?” He chided me but a guilty smile played on the edges of his lips. “The look on his face was quite priceless.” He plopped down on the couch and patted the spot next to him. “You’re letting him under your skin.” 

I sat beside him and rested my head on his arm. “I don’t know if I can do this.” I admitted. “Are you sure he is capable of any redeeming qualities?” I was woefully unaware of what exactly he was trying to prove. My only thought was his incessant need to have whatever deluded fantasies and desires his mind could conjure granted at the drop of a hat and getting under my skin or in my bed was his newest conquest. It was something I was not akin to experiencing. Rejection was a large part of life and if you were unable to accept it as truth you were surely going to live a miserable and unhealthy one. 

“Don’t give up now.” He started petting my hair. “Give your man a ring, it will make you feel better.” 

“I think it might make everything worse.” I confessed. 

“How so?” He turned his head to look at me. 

I sat up, pinching my eyes closed, unable to meet his gaze. “A week ago, I caught Daniel cheating. And I haven’t had a real or peaceful conversation with him since. I haven’t even had a real or peaceful day since it happened. I let it muddle everything up.” 

“Is your love with Daniel real?” It was assertive, breathless, sure of itself. The question hung heavy in the room.

I was taken aback. I took a moment to ponder. “I don’t know.” I sighed. “I guess we never really had a great relationship. Most of the time we hated each other but I can’t seem to let go, even though a big part of me really wants to. Needs to.” 

Percy nodded, absorbing my words with quiet thought and deliberation. “Maybe this job is what you need. This…. time away from everything and everyone to really see where your priorities and your heart should be.” He took a deep breath. “And Jimmy, obviously you have an attraction to him otherwise you wouldn’t be in here with me trying to make the bastard go mad… my advice on that would be, my darling, to either ignore him, keep him far in the back of your mind… or to let nature take its course.” He pinched my chin between his finger and thumb. 

“Beautiful man.” I smiled gratefully at him.

“You flatter me.” He feigned modesty. 

The conversation came to a screeching halt with a loud thump on the door. “Lets go, Plant.” Affliction deep-rooted in his gruff exclamation. I questioned whether he was aware of how obvious his disdain was or if he didn’t even realize.

Percy’s eyes were wide as he laughed, pulling deep from within his gut. “You gonna be alright, love?” 

I smiled genuinely with a nod. 

“Good.” He took my hand and pulled me through the doorway into the empty hall. “I guess he left.” He shrugged. “Despite your efforts to make him believe you were going to have your way with me, for the sake of my friendship I think I need to tell him I didn’t shag his girl.” 

“Not his girl. But yes, go save yourself. I’ll make my way there eventually.” 

His smile was sweet as he pecked my cheek.

. 

I stood in the hall after he left, not sure how to take the advice. Without thinking of actions and consequences I turned the knob to Jimmy’s room and slowly opened the door. I peeked inside, the room empty for the exception of his clothes strewn across the couch, his crushed velvet suit still hanging in the closet.  

Taking in a deep breath I gathered my emotions and threw them into the depths of myself to bury. Turning to leave I swear for a moment I managed to jump out of my skin as Jimmy stood in the doorway watching with quiet contemplation, his demeanor different, supercilious and uplifted. 

“I told you if I found you in here again, I wouldn’t be a gentleman.” He smirked at me. It's this smug smile that’s gonna get me fired and charged with assault. 

“Honestly, I don’t believe you could be a gentleman if you tried.” I attempted to stride past him but he grabbed my hand roughly. “No.” I yanked it from his grip and kept walking, not daring to look back. 

“I’ll see you next time, sweetheart .” He yelled behind me. 

I kept walking until I reached the bar, Feeling his static presence as he followed behind. He was quick to take his guitar from a roadie and head to the stage. 

“He just sat there. Wouldn’t even look at me. He just sat there and stared at the door.” Her high voice was almost whimsical as she teared up, her mascara quick to drip down her pink cheeks. The young girl Jimmy had whisked away to his dressing room was sobbing into a handkerchief. “He heard someone in the hall, went out to see and then came back in and kicked me out. I don’t know what I did wrong.” She sobbed louder. 

I couldn’t help myself. “It’s for the best,” I murmured to the girl and patted her shoulder as I walked by. “The man’s got a nasty disease… trust me you don’t want it.” The girls comforting Jimmy’s reject scrunched their noses at the news, whispering amongst themselves, debating on which disease it might be.

Small victories.

Petty? Yes.

Juvenile? You got it, babe, but a victory nonetheless. 

I leaned against an amp, drink in hand and watched the ensuing rehearsal. 

“Cali.” Richard nodded, watching the band. “You seem to be in better spirits.” He remarked, still looking forward. 

“I am.” I smiled. I watched the men onstage, collecting as much insight on them as I could. They seemed to be themselves onstage, Robert, graceful, poised, gallant and wise, Jonesy, quiet, shy and unbelievably warm, Bonzo, loud and chaotic and James, a mysterious, cunning and ominous enigma. There was something dark about him, not just his moods, not the odd chunk of his personality I had been exposed to but something else, something I couldn’t figure out.  

@dreamcastgirl99

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

The Feral Princess - Part 3

Marvel AU

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Theme: Soulmate AU / Medieval / Fantasy / Soulmate Marks

Summary: Bucky and Steve have known they were soulmates since they were children. Fate bringing a then sickly Steve and the future King together. War takes them apart and throws them back together over and over, in and out of each other lives, arms and beds. But something is missing and throughout, they know they are missing their third and final piece. The kingdom is now Bucky's and Steve's, the latter now a leader and no longer a sickly child. Both are war heroes, with the respect of their country and those that surround it. They are a force to be reconned with, admired and respected within the other royal houses. They could have any maiden or princess they wanted, but they don't want just anyone. They want their soulmate. They want their princess. Even if she is known as The Feral Princess.

Chapter Summary: Sam reports back to the others.

When Sam returns from the Kingdom of Lionheart, he is greeted by an overexcited Becca running down the castle steps. He wraps her up in a warm embrace, before cupping her face in his hands and kissing her softly.

“How was it? Is she coming?”

Sam sighs, knowing the trouble his news will bring.

“What is it? What happened?” Becca asked softly.

“They have dragons.”

“Oh.”

“Come on, we’d better get this over with.”

Sam makes his way up the castle steps hand in hand with his soulmate. Natasha appears out of nowhere and falls into step with him.

“Well?”

“You didn’t tell me they had dragons?”

“The House of Loxley? It doesn’t.”

“She wasn’t there. I told Robin of their intentions and he laughed and sent me to Lionheart.”

“Well I can imagine how that went.”

Before Sam had chance to retort they were at the Command Room. Sam took a deep breath and entered.

Bucky spoke first.

“I see she is not with you.”

“No, she’s not.”

“What happened?” Asked Steve, voice heavy with emotion.

“She politely declined.”

“Politely?” Bucky asked.

“I mean she said, no, thank you, amongst other things.”

“Go on.”

Sam sighed and began to retell the events of the last few days. He’d been warmly welcomed, and both he and the two knights that had accompanied him had been given a full meal, mead and their horses stabled, fed, watered and groomed. After smartening themselves they were invited to the Great Hall to meet with the King. On approach Sam realised that it was a social day and that there were various Lords, Ladies and Knights in attendance. This had initially put him and the accompanying Knights on edge. Were they being led to their doom? Or to be made a show of?

As they entered through a side door, which Sam established was for guests, a Royal Guard had whispered to him.

“Lord Wilson, I’m afraid we’ll have to wait to announce you. There is a developing matter that requires urgent attention.”

Sam nods, simply grateful his head isn’t immediately being put on a stick. He spots a Knight he recognises from the Battle of Washington and reintroduces himself. He doesn’t notice the brunette observing him from across the room.

Exchanging pleasantries with the Knight, and observing the raised voices, he establishes that the youngest Princess and heir is missing somewhere.

King Richard doesn’t seem concerned and then it becomes clear why. He must have predicted the child would wander to you, as he appears unsurprised when you stride in the child on your hip looking ready for battle.

He tells of the altercation with the Governess. Bucky and Steve raise their eyebrows and ask questions, Becca gasps, Natasha seems unfazed.

“After she left to feed the dragons, I was announced.”

“And?” Asked Bucky.

“Well, Richard and some of the court laughed. Some seemed excited, although it appears they were new to court and weren’t exactly used to her behaviour or what had happened with the past attempts at courtship.”

“But did you speak with her? Directly?” Asked Steve.

“I did. Richard asked a guard to fetch her after he’d read your letter. She returned and Richard cleared the Hall so it was just her, him and I. I explained that you sort her hand. She said no thank you and tried to leave.”

“Tried?” Asked Steve.

“Richard asked her to wait and then let her read the letter. She said no thank you again….” Sam decided to stop his retelling there but his hesitation toward the end of his story, led Bucky to believe something was a miss.

“Out with it Samuel.”

“She read all of it, including the part where you said you would fetch her.”

“What? You put that in the letter to Richard?” Natasha asked. “Are you looking to start a war James?”

“We are equipped for it.”

“Against Lionheart and Loxley!? Are you insane? You realise she also has ties to Odinson!”

“He is our ally.” Steve pointed out.

“Not when it comes to her. You have no idea what you’ve done!”

“And what do you know of it Natalia. I do not see your soulmate upon your arm!” Snapped Bucky.

“James!” Yelled Becca. “You do not speak of our friends and their soulmates in such a way. Mother taught you better, and Natasha’s right. You shouldn’t have said that James. How will it look if you fetch a princess against her will.”

“You won’t even make it through the gates. You will start a war, that’s if you haven’t already.” Added Natasha.

“Nobody will stand in the way of soulmates being together. It goes against the gods. If she does not appear at our gates in two days, I will do as I said and I will fetch her.”

“Buck, she said” Sam paused and let out a sigh, “She said if you come you will leave as the others, bleeding or in a box.”

“Well, it’s a good job I like a challenge Samuel, and I will fetch her.”

Moments after Lord Wilson’s departure.......................

There’s a flurry of activity in your quarters as the Royal Guards bring in trunks for your things.

“We won’t need those. We’ll just take what we can carry by horse. Place them back in the store but out of sight.”

Lady Dawn is looking at you with a look you cannot read.

“Do say whatever it is that you want to say Lady Dawn.”

“Is this wise?”

“Are you questioning my judgement?”

“No, I’m questioning if you wish the kingdoms to go to war over you.”

You paused.

“There won’t be a war, it won’t come to that.”

“Won’t it?”

Before you have chance to answer, your second lady, Darcy enters.

“I have everything readied.”

You began to move around the room placing items into a satchel. You watch as Lady Dawn begins to put on her cloak.

“You do not need to come Lady Dawn.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve have not sat and watched you grow and attempted to raise The Feral Princess to miss her being tamed.”

Darcy let out a laugh and you soon followed suit.

“Ok ladies, time for another adventure.”

You slipped into the night on horseback, Lady Dawn, Darcy, and your Loxley guards by your side.

Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

TAGLIST

@animegirlgeeky @sebastians-love @mrsevans90 @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @forgetmenotsexy

[shihomouri22]

I just want to show a compilation of Kaiao moments from the manga ♥

"I don't really understand it well, but I think I should treat you coldly... even though... that's because it seems like... I love you."

Kaito Robort

Chapter 3: Metal Heart

My biggest evidence that Kaito is so in love with Aoko is that even a robot recognizes it. Also, speaking of Aoko, she was seen throughout the whole chapter red as a tomato and avoiding Kaito. XD

"Anyway, ice creams are also very sweet."

Chapter 4: A Bad Day for Kaito Kid

How could we forget that Aoko defended with all her might that Kaito is not Kaito Kid. But, even more importantly, how could we forget that Kaito got on a moving roller coaster just so Aoko wouldn’t find out that he is Kaito Kid, only to realize that she was the one most committed to defending his innocence.

"If I go to the ground, I will no longer be myself! I hope you find something worth dying for too." Silver

"Something important to protect, huh!" Kaito

Chapter 5: The Pirate Ship

What can I say? I loved seeing Kaito again, tsundere and heroic, trying to rescue his princess. And the ending, when Kaito thinks that Aoko is that something he would die for, was simply beautiful.

"All the girls bring chocolates to school... there's always a guy to give them to."

Chapter 6: Scarlet Seduction

I had fun seeing how they switched roles, with a somewhat tsundere Aoko and a clueless Kaito. XD

I still can’t get over the fact that Kaito doesn’t know it’s Valentine’s Day. XD

"I'd rather let her shine! ♥ That's why we won't ski together."

Chapter 7: Leave Me Alone!

What can I say about this chapter, aside from that I loved it from start to finish? I truly love that the 2010 special and the 2014 anime adapted this chapter

"Let's not talk about it, it's a man's job... girls can't take risks."

"Chapter 12: The Ghost of the School"

I know that, for these times, this phrase might seem a bit outdated, but I find it so cute that Kaito tries to appear trustworthy so Aoko can feel at ease.

And how could we forget that we have proof that Kaito got jealous when he saw Aoko talking to the attractive new teacher.

And let's not forget how, in the end, Kaito carries Aoko in his arms, princess-style, while giving her a tender look when she wakes up. I’d like to be mad at Aoko, but I understand the reason for her distrust. 😅😅😅😅

"People say fools don't catch a cold"

Chapter 14: War of Stars

Maybe I'm cheating a little with this one, since the chapter focuses more on Ginzo and Christmas, but you can't deny how cute Kaito looks, nervous just because Aoko is taking his temperature in the calmest way possible.

"This is my gift for you! Happy birthday, Aoko."

It is later mentioned that Kaito never breaks his promises nor Aoko's heart. He was literally about to die at the hands of an organization that, on that very day, discovered that it was the same organization that killed his father. Yet, he still didn't forget Aoko's birthday. And even though he couldn't be physically with her that day, he showed her that he hadn't forgotten her.

Chapter 19: Sad Birthday

"I'm Kaito Kuroba! Nice to meet you!"

God, seeing how Kaito protected the first memory of him and Aoko in the form of a watch, as if it were a valuable jewel that not even the best detective in the world could get him to part with, was so beautiful! And how, still out of breath and dirty, he went to see Aoko to show her, as Kaito Kuroba, that the same memory she holds is also his greatest treasure, was simply wonderful. 👏 💕"

Chapter 24: The Black Star Part 2

"My old man stole my mom's lips at this point. W-well, for now, I'll hold back."

Kaito, explain to us that 'for now, you'll hold back' 🤭🤭🤭 It seems that someday Kaito won't be able to hide his feelings for Aoko anymore and will stop treating her so coldly.

Chapter 30: Phantom Lady Part 2

"I say I would take you anywhere you wanted: to the amusement park, to the zoo, to the aquarium… anywhere, and for free!"

Throughout the manga, we've seen how Aoko is the one who takes the initiative to invite Kaito to go somewhere, while Kaito only invites her when something related to Kaito Kid is involved. However, in this chapter, it's clear that Kaito just wants to invite her to hang out because he wants to (cough, cough, date, cough). I even find it a bit funny how, as always, he brings out his tsundere side, saying it's fine if she doesn't want to go with someone who has already crashed his bike by accident, all while not looking her in the face. You're not fooling me, Kaito, you were afraid of being rejected! 🤣

Chapter 34: Halo of the Sun

"Kaito is Kaito after all."

Even though Kaito's side still hurts, he prefers the pain rather than hurting Aoko with the truth. And now that I think about it, it's curious how this arc started with a motorcycle and ended with a motorcycle. 🏍

Chapter 36

I'm not sure if I'm missing any moments, but if I am, which ones would you add? Again, thanks for reading. :3 ♥