#It was your first and it shall be your last

[earthtooz]

x : HAPPY ACCIDENT :*+ﾟ

in which: you let phainon know the consequences of when he doesn't give you any attention.

warnings: 1.2k wc, fluff, phainon is very golden retriever coded in this and of course very down bad, gn!reader, mydei appears, i already said this but like i said, HE IS DOWN BAD.

a/n: the p in phainon stands for puppy or pathetic, or maybe both. btw i haven't played the story quest thumbs up.

You should feel bad about unintentionally conditioning Phainon like an obedient dog- you just didn’t expect him to take it so seriously!

The incident happened less than a week ago, when you walked into the courtyard in search of the Chrysos Heir, and he was exactly where you expected. The resounding, piercing sound of blades colliding was the first tell that the man you wanted to find was indeed there, and the second was when you rounded the corner to find him shirtless and shining with sweat under the gentle sunlight. He had been there for hours already, and as much as you admire his dedication and diligence, you also wonder if he’s been training a little too hard recently, dedicating substantial hours of the day into refining his skills. 

It’s been making you feel lonely. 

The last time you saw him was before noon, and it's been hours since then! You can only entertain yourself by working and reading and managing affairs for so long.

He spots you in his periphery and waves enthusiastically, a gesture you return with a calmer one before you find a marble bench under the shade to sit on. Even if it’s Phainon’s undivided attention you want, watching him spar is still far more exciting than whatever document that sits unread on your desk. 

Half an hour later, Phainon dismisses the soldier he was sparing with, the two of them chattering briefly before the snow-haired approaches you, his muscles flexing with every step he took. 

“Hey, you,” you greet with a smile before standing up, raising your arms over your head to stretch.

“I missed you,” he murmurs before intertwining his arms around your torso, allowing your arms to fall around his neck comfortably. 

“You should bathe,” you say before parting, his skin still hot and sticky with sweat. 

“Do I smell?” 

“Awfully.” 

He frowns at you. “That’s not very nice.” 

“I’m only kidding,” you giggle, “you smell like a bed of fresh roses, just extremely sweaty and… testosterone-filled.” 

“I shall go wash soon, then. Care to join me?” 

“Do you invite everyone to bathe with you, Phainon?” 

“Only the ones I really like, so, please?” He’s pleading at you with those eyes of his, so bright, so innocent, so hard to say no to. 

Well, normally you have a hard time saying no, especially to an offer as tempting as bathing with your lover, but you remember your petty feelings of how he paid more attention to his claymore today, rather than you, so you decide to give him a piece of your mind. It’s what he deserves. 

You hum in exaggerated consideration, even scrunching your nose to make it seem like you were thinking hard, keeping him on his toes. 

“Pretty please?” The hero insists, anticipation shining in those bright orbs. 

“Depends on how well you behave,” you negotiate. “Now, sit down and change your shoes, I’ll get your clothes.” 

He pouts at you, signalling his dissatisfaction. “Alright.” 

You leave to pick up his outerwear from where he discarded it in the courtyard, probably thrown aside when it got too stuffy. Returning to him, the pout is still as present, and he seems to refuse to make eye contact with you, trying to get you to crack.

So, you drop the pile of clothes beside him and counter with a game of your own.

Standing between his legs, both of your hands go to rest on his cheeks, the skin warm and flushed underneath yours. Gently tilting Phainon’s head up, you think you hear his breath hitch as he obeys, looking up at you with those glossy eyes. Gone was the petulance, back was the puppy-dog expression as he stares at you with wonder, and you’re 90% sure that if he had a tail, it’d be vigorously swishing behind him.

He just might be the most simple man you know. Telling him that would only displease him, though, primarily because he doesn’t like it when you talk about other men. 

You giggle softly at the thought as you gently brush stray strands of hair away from his face. 

“I only accompany men who are good to me to the bathhouse,” you muse.

“I’m amazing to you- the best,” he flaunts. “Right?” 

Instead of responding, you slowly lean closer towards him, minimising the gap between your faces. First, you close your eyes when your nose brushes against his, and you keep going until your lips are so painstakingly close that you can feel his graze yours, skin ghosting against skin as you lure him in. Then, just before you can give him what he wants, you draw back, leaving Phainon to chase after a piece of a paradise you won’t grant. 

When he realises that the anticipated kiss wasn’t coming, his eyes slowly blink open. 

“Good boys don’t let their partner feel neglected by training for hours and hours,” you mumble, brushing his hair back before deserting him completely, letting your hands fall back to your sides before cruelly walking away. “You need to learn your lesson, Phainon.”

Still in a daze, he only just registers what you were doing before shooting to his feet. “Hey!” 

Leaving his precious claymore and clothes behind, he chases after your retreating figure.

Effortlessly, the Chrysos Heir catches up and winds his arms around your waist like a tight coil. “Y/n, darling, my light, I’m sorry, you’re right, I have committed a great dishonour today, I will amend it with my life.” 

Humoured, you turn to face him, a melting pot of determination and desperation swirling in those aquamarine eyes. “Well, you do not need to go that far, Deliverer.” 

“So then… a kiss? Or two? Or three? Please?” 

“How about you kiss that claymore instead? Since you spend so much time with it.” 

He whines in your ear, refusing to let you go when you try to slip away by pushing against his very muscular, very sturdy, and very naked chest. 

You spend a good few minutes rejecting his every plea, utterly amused by his growing desperation and how he offered the most preposterous things on Amphoreus for you to forgive him. So you pushed your luck as far as you could before giving Phainon what he wanted, and he breathed you in like air, insisting on wanting more again and again as he pulled you so close you thought you would merge into him.

When you feel his hands roam down your body, tracing your curves and lingering on your hips, you break away before he could get any more carried away.

“Next time you see me while training, you should know what to do, right?” Was all you said that day before moving on, going back to the courtyard to collect his items for him because he was too dazed to do it himself.

Now, you’re left wondering how hard that sentence hit him as Phainon obediently sits down, staring at you with intense eyes that indicated he wanted something from you. He was sparing with Prince Mydei a mere second ago, how did he drop his weapon as soon as you walked in and just… plopped down on the bench like that was the most natural thing in the world? And the other Chrysos Heir just agreed? 

Was there something odd in the air today? Normally these two would spar until there were chips in their weapons.  

Mydei gave you a firm nod in greeting when he walked past and you returned it with a slight bow, still left wondering what on Amphoreus just occurred as you watch his retreating back. 

Until a certain hero clears his throat, causing you to tear your gaze away and at your main source of bewilderment. 

“Did you send Mydei away because… of me?” You ask. 

He nods. 

“Why?” 

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” 

Your mouth falls slightly agape before the realisation hits. “I… I guess? I was hoping to watch you two spar.” 

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even blink, only stares you. When you don’t give him what he wants, Phainon impatiently pats his spread thighs and you oblige, stopping before him and letting your hands rest on his face. 

“What am I going to do with you?” You whisper against his lips before sealing the words against his lips.

Well, this was your fault, after all, so you should just do your best to make him happy.

© EARTHTOOZ 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[twola]

Soothe

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI A companion piece to Ache.

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

You watch him suck air through his teeth at the first taste of coffee in the morning. His brows furrow under that hat as he nearly chokes the first swallow down, standing there next to the campfire.

Alas, you did not crawl out of bed early enough to save the camp from Pearson’s brewing skills. You had been sneaking out of bed early to beat Pearson to the kettle, and it seems that Arthur had noticed the difference in the quality of coffee, noting how surprised he was at the terrible taste.

Not this morning. This morning you crept from another cot entirely, shrugging your chemise on as you quietly searched for your bloomers in a tent that was not your own. Before you left, you had turned back toward the cot, looking back upon your bedmate fondly, still asleep in the cot, half dressed, snoring peacefully.

It would be at least an hour more before he woke up, still sleeping off the whiskey imbibed.

Lest he finds you staring, you quickly scurry over to the laundry pile, where a basket with dirty shirts overflows, waiting for washing. Before Grimshaw catches you dawdling and tans your hide.

You heave the basket up, propping it on your hip.

You have to stop, suck in a breath. 

Oh.

A blooming soreness shoots through the very core of you, burning a path through your hips that was so pleasurable last night. You are certain your cheeks blaze red, a flush creeping down your chest. Regaining your composure, you head toward the lakeside, each step that soreness making itself known.

Through the corner of your eye you see him still at the campfire, trying to drink that shit coffee.

Does he even realize? Does he know? Does he know that he has carved himself a blaze of pleasure within your body? 

Does he know that you now feel so empty?

Oh, how you wonder. Oh, how you wish.

You thrust a shirt underwater and start working at a stain, trying to block out the hot whispers and deep groans in your ear when he pushed into you last night. Your cunt clenches at nothing, recalling through your tipsy haze the perfection of him laying you down in his cot. The feeling of him pawing at your bloomers and flipping up your skirts after you had just enough sherry to get over yourself and sit in his lap earlier in the night.

Oh, how you wish for something more. How you long for it.

You decide to go for broke - you need no sherry anymore. Not when you’ve heard the things he whispered to you with each thrust of his cock last night.

He’s staring down at the ground, still holding on to the cup of coffee as you approach.

“Hey.”

Arthur looks generally surprised. A flush painted across the apples of his cheeks, and he looks up at you with those damned blue eyes and suddenly the feared enforcer of the Van der Linde gang is as awkward as a teenaged boy.

“You feelin’ okay?” He asks, as his cheeks continue to blaze red.

Oh, this man. Your heart flutters.

You smile, lean in, and kiss his cheek.

“I’m hopin’ that wasn’t the last night we spend together, Mister Morgan.”

It was better than you saying what was really on the tip of your tongue - of how you were sore from him, but can’t stand the thought of not being in his cot tonight. “Darlin’, let… let me-” he swallows, obvious discomfort across his features, “Let me take you into town. Let me bed you right.”

You smile as you reach toward the coffee cup, trying to contain your excitement.

“Alright, Arthur. Shall we?”

[lis-likes-fics]

Just a Drink

Pairing(s): Tommy Shelby x bartendere!Reader Word Count: 2.5k words Prompt: Semi-Public/Public Sex Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, semi-public/public sex, caught, brief fingering, creampie... A/N: This made giggle and hot at the same time, lol. Enjoy and happy reading!

“Are we celebrating, drowning sorrows, or just drinking tonight, Tommy?”

You set the bottle on the counter, leaning against the bar as you await Tommy's answer. He sits at a stool, a cigarette between his lips and his eyes generally uninterested as he stares off.

The bar is mostly empty. Harry has already gone home for the night—you man the bar so often that the patrons know you and know not to give you any trouble. If anyone comes in looking for trouble, you send them on their way with a gun as a warning. If you ever need to pull the trigger, you've got the Peaky Blinders to clean up the mess for you.

There are two other men sitting around, holding their glasses in their palms and looking about ready to throw in the towel. Neither of you pay them any attention. They don't matter.

“Just drinking,” he sighs.

You hum, grabbing a glass and pouring his fill. “Thought so.” You pass it over, crossing your arms over the bar as you lean in. “You don't look sullen enough for drowning, and your brothers would be here if you were celebrating.”

He hums, taking a sip from his cup. “Aye,” he flicks the ashes from his cigarette. “Sounds about right…”

You smile, pouring your own glass. “Then you won't mind if I have a drink of my own.” You've already taken a sip before he can answer.

“Not at all,” he murmurs. He finally looks up at you with more thought than he had before. Tommy Shelby's always got a million things on his mind. If you take a few moments to come to the front of it, you will gladly wait your turn. He's saved your arse enough to earn the time.

You wait a moment before speaking, gaging the look in his eyes with another hum. “You've been busy,” you say. “This is the first sit-down you've had with me in…a few days?”

“Aye,” he says again. He brings his cup to his lips, his brows drawn like he's still thinking about things. “Have you missed me, luv?”

You shrug a shoulder. “Believe it or not, you're good company, Mr. Shelby.” You trace the rim of your glass with your lip, looking at him over the top before sipping once more.

A tiny smirk graces his lips as he takes in the look on your face. “Not just company, I assume…” He takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing it out as the smoke billows around his head. “Have I been that busy?”

You shrug again, looking back down at your glass to trace the top again, this time with the tip of your finger. “You know no one else treats me quite as right as you.”

You don't pay any mind to the scoot of a chair from somewhere in the pub. One of the two customers still left behind stands to take his leave, shrugging on his coat and letting his cap follow as he leaves a coin behind. The last man decides to follow suit, leaving you and Tommy alone.

“S’that so?” You pluck his cigarette from between his fingers as he speaks. “Must be a fuckin’ saint.”

Smoke puffs out of your mouth with your snicker, and you shake your head as your smirk curls around the silver air. “You are no saint, Tommy Shelby.”

He nods, accepting that with his own silent chuckle. “At least nothing’s changed then.”

You lean over the counter, swaying your hips lightly. The cigarette ghosts over your bottom lip as you bat your lashes at him. “So are you going to keep me waiting, or shall I drop my knickers now?”

You blow smoke from your lips and watch it curl around his face. He doesn't even flinch, staring back at you with eyes steadily filling with a veil of lust. They glance down at your cleavage, so expertly placed for his sneaking eyes.

He lingers for a moment, another hum slipping through as he grabs his glass again. “I'm going to finish this…” he takes another small sip, plucking his cigarette back from your fingers, “and then I'm going to fuck you.”

It's a fair deal. You nod, grabbing a rag to start wiping down the bar, retrieving the coins left behind on the unoccupied tables to place in your apron.

By the time you're finished, Tommy's finishing off his last sip and standing from his stool. You wander back behind the bar, grabbing both your glasses to clean them out. You don't look at him as he follows after you, lighting a new cigarette as he goes.

His hand settles on your waist, and you smile as you continue wiping down the bar. He catches you by surprise, pressing his palm to your back and pushing you down against the counter top. You grunt, clutching the rag in your hand as he lifts your skirts all the way up and over the curve of your hips.

Tommy shoves your undergarments down as he gropes one of your cheeks in his palm. He hums appreciatively, taking no time in teasing you. He just shoves two thick fingers between your folds, which are becoming wetter and wetter by the second.

You bite your lip to stifle the moan stuck in your throat. He works them into you, curling his fingers so much that your knees buckle under the pleasure. The hand on your waist lifts up just to slap down harshly against your warm skin. You nearly cry out at the sudden movement as you feel the sharp sting spreading over the expanse of your tingling flesh.

His fingers pull out of you, slipping forward to cup your cunt and wet his hand. They brush against your clit, and your hips nearly jerk backwards against him. “Has it been that long, luv?” he hums.

“It's your own fault, though I'm sure you're quite proud of it,” you huff, your eyes closed as your body keens against his touch, worse when he circles your clit in quick but light movements that would never allow an actual orgasm. Your voice shakes. “You ruined me, Tommy. Can't get this from anyone else.”

He smirks, though you can only hear it with the way he's got you bent over. He pulls his hands from you, and you yelp when he smacks your pussy, clenching around air and wishing it was him.

“I'm terribly sorry,” he lies, and you hear the dizzying sound of his belt clinking.

“You're not.”

Tommy chuckles airily. “I'm not.” He frees his cock with a stroking hand, and you try not to grind back against him in such a needy way as you anticipate the coming of his desire.

He fills you a moment later, thrusting his cock inside of you with a deep grunt as he bottoms out. You let out a heavy sigh, stifling the moan at the tip of your tongue as he presses against the deepest part of you.

Tommy holds his cigarette between his lips as he brings one strong hand to your hip and the other to wrap around your throat. You hum, letting him pull your head back as he begins to thrust into you with rough, quick snaps of his hips. Once he finds a steady pace, he lets go of your throat in favor of pinching his smoke between his fingers.

“You feel better now that your cunt’s nice and full, darling?” he taunts, pulling smoke into his lungs in a deep breath. It billows from his nose as he huffs on a harsh thrust.

You struggle to contain your moans, stuck on the pleasure wrapping around your throat and filling your body until your legs are weak. “Yeah,” you gasp, holding onto the edge of the counter for support. “Don’t stop, Tommy.”

“Now why would I go and do that, eh?” he hums, smacking your arse again before pressing down on the small of your back. Your body buzzes with pleasure, and you can feel it nipping at your heels and at your fingertips. Your breaths and the sound of his hips smacking into you fill the air, occasionally accompanied by a stray moan or grunt.

Your head turns when you hear the sound of the pub doors opening, a dramatic motion that could only come from one breed of man—a Shelby.

Arthur walks in with a strut that you find relatively unnecessary, worse when his eyes land on the two of you and a sly grin spreads over his lips. “I see you’re a bit too busy to pour me a drink, luv,” he quips, his cigarette dangling between his lips as he speaks.

Tommy’s movements don’t stop—it’s not like this is the first time one of his brothers have walked in on the both of you. You were once tending to him beneath his desk, and he didn’t even care to pretend to shield you from his brother’s gaze, encouraging you to keep going as he talked about business or something of the sort. You don’t remember much, you were a bit preoccupied with the way he tasted on your tongue to listen in.

Tommy thrusts harder into you, your moans catching in your throat with a shudder that sounds as though you might cry. “Aye,” he huffs. “What is it you want, Arthur?” His hair is falling over his forehead. He doesn’t even look at his brother as his eyes stay trained on you and the way his cock keeps disappearing into your tight cunt.

“Just a drink, as I said,” he shrugs, strutting forward and stepping behind the pub. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over the counter and burying your head as you focus on the overwhelming pleasure.

“You can h-have whatever you bloody want, Arthur,” you huff, a few whimpers slipping into your words as you speak.

He laughs, that deep, wheezing sound that means he’s enjoying himself as he looks around the shelves for his choice of liquor. He grabs a bottle of whiskey, clutching it in his hands before doing a little spin in search of something. “Where the bloody hell are the glasses?”

“You don’t n-need a fucking glass,” you gasp. A small cry takes you by surprise when Tommy brings you back hard on his cock in time with a rough thrust.

“Course, I do,” he says, entirely unfazed as he looks down at you. You turn your head in your arms to see him, a glare in your eyes only partially tinted with amusement at his antics. Arthur smacks his chest, puffing it out to look big as he watches you. “What do you think I am? A fuckin’ animal?” Tommy rolls his eyes. “No, a fuckin’ gentleman is what I am, and a fuckin’ gentleman don’t drink straight from the bottle. Isn’t that right, Tommy?”

You reach beneath the counter, clumsily grabbing a glass and shoving it out toward him. Tommy motions to it with his cigarette. “There you are, Arthur. Now take your glass there and go fuck off. As you can see, we’re both a bit busy right now.” He takes a drag from his cigarette and lets the smoke surround his head as he turns back to you. “Would you hold this for me, darling?”

He hands you his smoke, and you take it and set it between your lips gratefully. A moan catches in your throat when he free hands wraps around your waist, just to press a callused finger against your needy clit. Smoke puffs quickly from your mouth in a flurry.

You’d almost forgotten Arthur was there until the sound of the bar door slamming back down catches your attention. “Alright, alright,” he smiles, glass and bottle in one hand, cigarette in the other. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Apparently,” a moan cuts you off, “not well enough.” He lets out another thundering laugh as he walks away, leaving the two of you be. Just in time too, because you feel like you will fall apart any minute now. “Tom, I’m so close.”

“I know, luv,” he grunts. “Just have another smoke, eh?”

You do as you’re told, bringing it to your lips and letting it feed into your system as you become looser and looser. Your head swarms with all the pleasure around you, and you’re finding it harder and harder to hold it together.

“That’s it,” he coos, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy and erratic as he nears his own release. His grip on your hip tightens, his circling finger on your clit intends to drive you mad.

Your thighs begin to twitch, the shocks of a coming release shooting off in your veins. It's only when his thrusts become short and deep and rough, that you're sent over the edge with a cry that you struggle to muffle behind pursed lips. You drop your head into your arms, pressing your mouth against your forearm in an effort to conceal an unconcealable sound.

Waves of pleasure crash down on you, dizzying you, filling you until you feel like you can no longer stand. Tommy's hand on your waist is the only thing keeping you up.

As your cunt flutters and clenches around him, his name crying into your arm, he feels his fuse running out. With a few final, untempered thrusts, he spills inside of you with a quiet gasp, his grunt rough in his throat. “Fuck, that's it,” he huffs, still shoving his cock inside of you to finish off the last of his release. “Take it all, darling. There you are.”

Your legs quiver beneath you, weak under the warmth spreading through you and the last sensations of your orgasm seeping into the fabric of your bones and your veins until you're nothing but a distant buzz.

You curse under your breath when your brain settles, and you feel like you can think straight again. Tommy pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants with a hum. “How are you now, luv?”

You nod, catching your breath as you stand up straight. You take a long breath of smoke into your lungs, stretching your arms over your head and sighing it all out as you feel the relief of the popping in your back.

Smoke curls around Tommy's face, and he doesn't even flinch. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in and taking his cigarette back. He kisses you, long and possessive but satisfied with the release of the tension in his body.

“Really fuckin’ good,” you breathe once he pulls away.

He nods. “Good.” He kisses you again, watching you bend down to pull your undergarments back up your thighs and smooth out your dress.

“Don't make me wait so long next time,” you smirk, pulling him in by his tie. Your noses brush, teasing one another before finally giving in to a third kiss. You try not to get carried away. You still have to properly close the pub before you end up in Tommy Shelby's bed once more.

“My apologies.”

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyisms @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bernelflo @dragonslayersupremacy @alurafairy @pietroxreader @darkcastle167 @neonpurplestars89 @motopoppp @mrkdvidal1989 @thegen3sisark @niktwazny303 @feyresqueen @lovelylilbadone @electraphyng @carolina-angel @xsweetcatastrophe Tag yourself here...

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 13]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the scarf around your neck. It was another day of going to Hongjoong's place to do your gardening duties. Also, it was the first time seeing him after you cried in his arms at his mother's grave.

"Gosh, can you be any more embarrassing?" You asked your reflection with a click of your tongue. With a soft sigh, you went to gather your stuff.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Coming!" You ran to open the door, thinking it was the chauffeur that was usually sent to pick you.

"Oh! Hongjoong! I was not expecting you." You blinked as he stood at your door.

"I was in the area for a meeting and thought I could come pick you instead. I hope you don't mind, the chauffeur told me what floor you live on." Hongjoong smiled, tucking his phone back into his coat.

"Not at all. I'm about done, please come in. Don't mind the mess." You said, letting him step in.

"Thanks. Take your time." He bowed his head and entered behind you, removing his shoes in the entrance way.

"I have to bring these down, it shouldn't be too heavy." You gestured before running back into your bedroom to get your socks and handphone. Hongjoong looked around the place, contrary to what you said, there was no mess at all. It was a cozy, little apartment, simple but neat.

"That should be everything... Would you like a drink? Sorry I didn't offer you one when you came in." You chuckled, putting your tools together into a tote bag.

"No worries, I'm good. I had a coffee on the way here." He smiled from his seat on your couch.

"We can go now." You said to him.

"Sure, let me help." He took one of the bags that had fertiliser in it, leaving you to carry the light stuff. Your heart warmed at the sight of the Porsche convertible, he must have brought it for you.

"If the things can't fit in the boot, I'll have them on my lap." You told him as he loaded the stuff in.

"We should be fine. It'll be uncomfortable to have things on your lap." Hongjoong said as he arranged the stuff to make space.

"There." He placed the last bag in and closed the boot. After opening the door for you to enter the passenger seat, he closed the door and ran over to the driver's side.

Before moving out of the parking space, Hongjoong put the hood down then started to drive. It wasn't as awkward anymore but you did still feel embarrassed after what happened last time. He saw you cry and you cried all over his probably expensive suit.

"Is it too warm? Shall I put the hood back up?" Hongjoong asked, having noticed the uncomfortable expression on your face.

"No, not at all. You don't have to put the hood back up. I'm enjoying it, don't worry." You shook your head, continuing to look out instead of look in Hongjoong's direction.

"Welcome back, sir."

The intercom voice sounded as Hongjoong pulled up to the gates of the estate before they opened the let you in.

"Although it's such a long walk, the greenery along the driveway makes it such a nice sight." You commented. Hongjoong let out a hum of agreement.

The others must heard of Hongjoong's arrival at the gate because you saw a butler and two maids waiting there for your arrival.

"There are stuff in the back, take it and help her bring it to the back garden." Hongjoong said, coming out of the driver's seat.

"Yes, sir. Right away." They stepped forward to retrieve your items from the boot as Hongjoong opened the door for you. You stood there awkwardly, unsure of what you were supposed to do now. You were still not used to this, you've always done everything yourself without any butlers or maids.

"Right this way, ma'am." One of the maids bowed, leading you into the house. Hongjoong re-entered the car and drove off, presumably to park his car.

"(y/n)! You're here." Mingi grinned.

"Hi, Mingi." You bowed your head, still finding yourself acting formal with the others.

"Have you eaten?" He asked with a tilt of his head, munching on the slice of toast in his hand. You mentally chuckled, imagining all the crumbs he must be dropping onto the ground.

"I have. Thank you." You smiled.

"Good. If you get hungry, ask the chef to make you something, alright? Don't go hungry." He winked and went upstairs.

"Miss, shall we leave the things here?" The butler asked as you stepped out into the backyard.

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you so much for your help." You bowed repeatedly to them. They smiled and bowed back to you before taking their leave. The first thing you did was take your notepad out to check your to-do list for today.

"Good morning, (y/n)." You turned to see Seonghwa standing there, cradling a cup of tea in his hands. He was dressed in a button up white shirt and wide pants, making him look casual but elegant.

"Good morning, Seonghwa. How has your morning been?" You asked with a smile.

"Busy as usual. Have you seen Hongjoong? I heard he went to pick you up after his meeting." He enquired.

"Yeah, he did. He dropped me off out front and I assumed that he was just going to park the car but I guess not?" You giggled as Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

Another thing you learnt was that while Hongjoong kept everyone else in check, Seonghwa kept Hongjoong in check.

"Never mind him then. How has the garden been coming along?" He moved closer to look.

"Hopefully making progress. I managed to move the plants to where they need to be, in the proper soils without having to compete for nutrients. Today, it's laying fertiliser and all that." You explained.

"The plants are in good hands then." He chuckled and you nodded your head. Seonghwa's phone ringing pulled him away, the both of you bowed your heads to each other as he entered the house to answer the call. You let out a sigh of relief, still feeling slightly intimidated by him and his energy.

"Are you scared of Seonghwa hyung?"

"Ah!" You yelped, jumping back and clutching onto your heart, as you came face to face with Jongho. He smiled cheekily at you before straightening up.

"You scared me, Jongho." You let out a sigh as you picked up the trowel that you dropped.

"You didn't answer my question. Are you scared of Seonghwa hyung?" He raised an eyebrow, repeating his question.

"He's a little intimidating... His aura and everything. Like a critique that you want to try and impress...? I don't even know if that makes any sense." You tried your best to explain it to him.

"I get it, Seonghwa hyung has that effect on people." Jongho nodded.

"But you know, we're not that scary. We may seem like we're scary people but we're not." He added.

"I know, I'm slowly learning that." You giggled as you used the trowel to loosen up the packed soil around the plant roots. Jongho watched you take the fertiliser and add it to the soil, using your hands to manually pack it in so it wouldn't be too tight.

Jongho stood there, watching you. He has never met a girl that was willing to get down and have her hands in the dirt. It still amused and amazed him to watch you work.

"Is there anything else you need, Jongho?" You asked, realising he was looming over quietly.

"Nope. Just watching you work, it's rather fascinating and I'm learning something new when I do." He shrugged.

"It's just taking care of the plants. It is concerning that your previous gardeners never did these. But it's not surprising, considering all the mistakes I found." You mumbled the last part.

"You're funny, (y/n)."

"I just don't like that the plants suffer at the hands of someone who is literally paid to take care of them." You sighed.

"I get it, I get it. Don't worry, that guy is gone and we have you now." He smiled.

Although, when Jongho said 'gone', you assumed it meant that the previous gardener was fired. You didn't know that Jongho meant that the guy was no longer alive.

"Ah, Jongho ah. Stop disturbing her and let her work. You should be doing your own work too!" Seonghwa yelled from the glass doors, presumably having finished his phone call. Jongho scoffed, offended that Seonghwa would suggest he was disturbing you. You giggled at their banter, they were really close.

"Well, I'll see you later, (y/n)." Jongho did conceed. You waved as he entered the house to go back to work.

"Alright, what's next?" You stood up, dusting your hands. You went to retrieve the other bag of fertiliser to move to another garden patch. These fertilisers were all personally mixed together by you.

"Grow well." You wished the plant, hoping your custom mix of fertilisers would provide the plants with what they needed.

"Maybe one day, there'll be a compost area here for all the waste." You thought out loud.

"We should, there's enough space." You turned to see Hongjoong standing there with a small smile on his face. He had gotten rid of his jacket and was in a shirt and pants.

"Seonghwa came to look for you earlier. Playing hooky?" You teased.

"Just because I wasn't in my office, he thinks I was out skipping work." Hongjoong rolled his eyes with a scoff.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you would like to have some lunch." Hongjoong said. You straightened up, digging for your phone to check the time. Indeed, it was already a little after noon, you didn't think you spent such a long time doing this.

"Sure, I lost track of time. Didn't know I spent so much time doing just this." You gestured. Hongjoong waited for you before walking back to the house.

"I'll go wash my hands and freshen up." You excused yourself and went to the bathroom to wash your hands and face.

"Ah, (y/n)!" Yunho ran to into you as you were exiting the bathroom. You smiled and waved at him.

"Are all of you working from home today? I seem to be running into most of you and it's only lunch time." You chuckled. Yunho laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

"I never know where my brothers are." He admitted.

"I guess you all have different schedules that it'll be hard to keep track. Poor Seonghwa." You giggled.

"Nah, I bet hyung secretly likes to nag us. Him and Hongjoong hyung." Yunho joked, the both of you snickering. Hongjoong watched you and Yunho laugh as you headed over.

When did you two get so close?

"Today is a warm day, you should take more breaks in the shade and make sure you drink a lot of water." Yunho smiled kindly. You nodded and bowed your head. Of course, Yunho noticed that Hongjoong had been looking at your interaction the entire time. But he wanted to rile the captain up more.

"This way." Hongjoong said to you. You stepped into the dining room, it was your first time here since you started working in the estate. Or rather, this was the first meal you've had with them.

Usually, you sit in the living room or garden gazebo to eat. Honestly, it was really intimidating.

"Sit wherever you feel comfortable." Hongjoong gestured.

"Really? Looks like there are assigned seats..." You mumbled to yourself. But Hongjoong gently placed a hand on your back to guide you forward, the seat to the right of the head.

"I sit here, you can sit with me." Hongjoong said. The seat felt like it would be the seat that's occupied for sure.

"Come, (y/n). That's Seonghwa hyung's seat." Jongho entered the dining room, pulling you along.

"You lied!" You pointed accusingly at Hongjoong, who blinked.

"Hwa doesn't care, the others are just trying to make him scarier than he actually is." Hongjoong rolled his eyes. But you were not taking the chance, you moved to sit where ever Jongho and Yunho told you to, which was next to Jongho, opposite Yunho.

"Yeosang hyung sits here but he's out for a meeting so you're good." Jongho said as the butler pulled the chair out for you to sit. You quickly bowed to him and sat down.

"Who's scarier than he actually is?" On cue, Seonghwa walked in, typing away on his phone.

"It's nothing." Hongjoong sighed.

"It's only noon and you're already sighing." Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at his best friend before taking his seat, which was the exact seat Hongjoong had offered you earlier.

"See? Told you." Jongho leaned over to whisper to you and you hummed with a soft giggle.

"Just get lunch." Hongjoong said to the butler, rubbing his forehead.

"Nice to see you here, (y/n)." Seonghwa finally noticed you and smiled at you. You returned the smile and nodded your head then the trays of food came in.

"Lunch is served." The maids and butlers said as they placed trays in front of you. Your eyes widened, this was how you imagined royalty was served their meals. The food was good, regular fare, but plated nicely and arranged on an individual tray. You have never been served like this before.

"Is something wrong?" Yunho asked.

"No, not at all." You forced a smile and picked up your chopsticks. Just then, Mingi came into the dining room, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched his arms over his head.

"Mingi. That's rude." Seonghwa scolded. Mingi rubbed his eyes, a clear sign that he had just woken up.

"Oh, (y/n). You're having lunch here today." Mingi acknowledged as he took his seat beside Yunho. You nodded and swallowed your food.

"Did you just nap since breakfast?" Yunho asked his best friend.

"Dude, I told you I didn't sleep last night so I have sleep to catch up on. I keep having issues sleeping." Mingi said, running his fingers through his messy hair as the butler put his tray down.

"You're too used to doing night stuff, that's why your body clock is having issues adjusting." Hongjoong pointed out.

"I should just be on night shift, I'm only doing Yeosang's work because he's busy taking over San's- Mmph!" Mingi's sentence was cut off as he crumpled over, wincing in pain. He turned his head to shoot Yunho a glare.

"Are you okay, Mingi?" You asked worriedly. Mingi met Yunho's eyes, who shifted in your direction.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just hit my toe against the chair leg." Mingi lied as he began to eat. You didn't notice the sigh of relief Seonghwa and Hongjoong let out.

"If that's not enough food for you, you can always ask for seconds, alright? They always make extras for us." Jongho told you.

"This is more than enough for me. I might not even be able to finish this." You chuckled.

"Is the food to your liking?" Hongjoong asked.

"It's very good. Thank you." You smiled as continued to eat. If the food wasn't to your liking, Hongjoong would have asked the cook to make you something entirely differently.

"Seconds." Seonghwa raised his hand and Yunho did the same, the maid coming forward to get their plates for more food.

"Oh gosh, I'm so full. And I should probably get back to work. Thank you for the meal." You stood up and bowed to the boys at the table, hightailing it out of there before anyone could say anything else. The 5 just sat there, blinking, stunned before turning to their captain at the head of the table.

"(y/n), hold on. Is something wrong?" Hongjoong came out from the dining room right before you could go out the glass doors. You paused in your tracks and turned around.

"No, Hongjoong. Everything is fine." You fiddled with your fingers.

"Was it that awkward and uncomfortable?" He tilted his head. You rubbed the back of your neck.

"It's not any of you... It's just... I'm supposed to be a worker too... Feels inappropriate to be sitting in that fancy dining, getting served like that." You winced.

"Oh, (y/n). There's no need for you to worry about that. You're not a worker-worker... You're my friend, it's different." He chuckled.

"I know, it just takes a while to get used to. I'm not familiar with any of this but don't worry!" You rubbed your arm.

"(y/n), if you're uncomfortable, just tell me. I know it can all be very intimidating. Don't feel forced to do anything." He smiled. The both of you walked out to the back garden together.

"No, I don't feel forced at all. And it's not just that..." You cleared your throat, trying to figure out how to find the words to tell him. Maybe you should just leave it. Telling Hongjoong your feelings might just make things more awkward between the two of you.

"Are you worried about what happened when we went to see my mum?" He asked in a soft voice.

"How... How did you..." Your eyes widened.

"I figured. (y/n), you know I don't care about stuff like that right? I'm not bothered and it doesn't change anything." Hongjoong smirked. You nodded slowly.

"Thanks." You murmured.

"Now come. I think it's finally time for me to give you a proper tour of the place." Hongjoong clapped his hands.

"Don't you have to work? Don't any of you have to work?" You threw your head back with a groan. Hongjoong just laughed and gestured for you to go back into the house for the tour.

"Hang on." You paused and he nodded.

"Take your time." He watched you fiddle with one of the bags you had brought and retrieved what looked like a small white linen bag.

"Mingi! Luckily you're still here. I just remembered that I had this in my bag of gardening stuff. Here you go." You handed the taller the small white bag just as he was leaving the dining room. Both him and Hongjoong looked confused but Mingi lifted the white bag to take a sniff of it.

"It smells good. What is it?" He blinked.

"Dried lavender. I use it as a natural insect repellent for plants but it's very good to help sleep too. Since you said you have trouble sleeping, you can put this by your pillow." You explained.

"Oh, thank you, (y/n). I'll definitely put this by my pillow." Mingi smiled, continuing to sniff the bag.

"I hope it helps." You smiled and he nodded before heading upstairs. You were unaware of the now slightly sulky Hongjoong behind you.

"You didn't have to do that, you know? He's just childishly whining about it." Hongjoong commented. Your eyebrows raised slightly at his words, was Hongjoong jealous?

"I know but I wanted to help since I already have the dried lavender. So I thought why not? It's not 100% effective but it may help just a little so no harm." You shrugged as you followed him up the stairs to see the rest of the house.

"Honestly in our household, almost everyone has trouble sleeping. Not sure if we're just constantly thinking about work or something." He pointed out.

"Oh, really? Well, I don't have anymore on hand now but I'll keep that in mind and bring more the next time I come." You giggled.

~

Series masterlist

[doudouhoon]

A SONG OF BLOOD AND DUTY

pairing ✶ ice prince!park sunghoon x fire princess/dragonrider!reader

synopsis ✶ the princess of the fire kingdom has been betrothed to the crown ice prince since the second that she was born. when duty calls, she must take her place next to park sunghoon and rule the ice kingdom. but can she leave her kingdom to her immoral half-brother and give up her rightful succession as the first-born? now, she must make her choice - engulf the ones who have wronged her in flames and shed blood or be the queen that never was.

warnings ✶ graphic violence (fencing and i promise nobody was hurt (for now 😈), sexual harassment (very subtle and non-verbal).

est. word count ✶ 6k

author’s note ✶ first chapter is out y’all! it is kinda boring but that is just because it’s the start of the plot. ngl i didn’t expect it would take so much work 😟 but here we are! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated and i kindly remind you that this is my first piece of work so keep that in mind (i am afraid to read it 🥸). p.s. i changed the name of the ice kingdom in the last second. so for every asoiaf fan who has heard of ulthos, i am well aware that it’s situated in the south part of the world, i just changed that fact for the sake of the story.

taglist ✶ @firstclassjaylee, @dksfml, @miukidoll, @d-dilemma, @xylatox

the sharp sound of metal against metal rang out like the harsh crack of a whip. the wind whooshed as the swords clashed in the training ground. each movement of the opponents was deliberate, but one lacked footwork. one wrong step and you will be on the ground, feeling the still wet mud from yesterday’s rainfall engulf your body in filth.

“well done, my prince!”

the orotund voice of aegon’s personal trainer and one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom was heard as he drew nearer to the young lad.

aemond still lay in the muddy ground, catching his breath from his brother’s sharp attacks. he blinked a few times and caught sight of ser criston cole’s body hovering above him. cole stretched out his hand to the defeated.

“we must work on your stability, your highness.”

aemond took hold of his calloused hand and only grunted in reply. standing up on his feet, he saw the look of all the knights around the training field. they thought he was weak. but what vexed him the most was his older brother’s triumphant grin.

you watched the scene in front of you unfold with an observant look. you were never allowed to participate in your brothers’ duels, god forbid; your merit is shown to the eyes of the world. the only times you were to touch a sword were your private lessons with ser harrold westerling, with whom your combat skills were sure to meliorate.

gathering your long dress in your hands, you held it with a delicate grip, turning your back to the resumed clash of swords. you took deliberate steps in order not to stomp on your intricate carmine dress. you entered the palace. your steps were quick, but not quicker than the two guards following you incessantly. light shily illuminated the dark red stone, which adorned the corridors to the chambers and study rooms. you took a sharp turn to the great library and huffed. the grand maester will surely now apprise your father of your constant lateness.

seeing the massive doors to the library, you willed yourself to quicken your step despite the discomfort you felt in the lengthy clothing. the guards in front saw your hurried manner and scurried to open the entryway.

entering the room, you saw the grand maester preparing the books you will need for today’s lesson in high valyrian.

you neared the ginormous table and sat down in one of the chairs.

“grand maester orwyle, apologies for my tardiness.”

the guilt in your voice was evident, which somehow put him at ease. at least you were not like your younger brothers.

“a princess with no imperfections is yet to be born, your grace. while i was awaiting your arrival, i arranged the books we will read today. now, let us begin. shall we?”

you nodded and gently smiled at the grand maester. he was wise and kind, unlike most of the men, roaming the red keep.

spending the next few hours of the day perfecting your mother tongue, even though you spoke it with no difficulties, was just another galling part of your everyday regime. your duty as a targaryen princess was to study until you knew the full monty of westorosi history, the chronicles of houses of service to the crown and the days of old valyria. future obligations, needless to say, included being a good wife and bearing heirs to the crown. notably, a male one.

having been done with your commitments for the day, you retreated to your bedchambers to rest before dinner. walking up to your vanity in the corner of your sleeping quarters, you sit in the hand-carved chair and gaze at the mirror in front of you. with a sigh, you reach for the wooden brush and start combing your dark tresses.

an abrupt knock at the door halted your movements.

“come in!”

your voice was heard from the other side of the door, prompting the guards to grasp the handle and finally reveal the man.

it was a woman. a familiar silhouette.

your lady-in-waiting, lisa massey bowed and stepped into the room.

“your highness, we must prepare your gown for tonight! should i help you brush your hair?”

hastily moving from one corner of the chambers to another, lisa frantically searched for the brush in your hands.

watching her, you took in her uneasy manner.

“what is the occasion today?”

“lord loren lannister has arrived in king’s landing to lodge his eldest son to the crown. or more specifically to you! didn’t the king mention that matter to you, rea?”

releasing yet another heavy sigh, you direct lisa’s focus to the comb in your right hand and faintly smirk.

“amusing, wasn’t it?”

slowly shaking her head, she walks up to you and starts gently combing through your hair.

“i’ll have the other servants prepare your gown for tonight.”

mindlessly nodding your head, you hum to her in a reply. you wondered if this one would be another scrawny little boy or perhaps a grey-bearded suitor of your long-deceased grandmother’s. nonetheless, you asked yourself why your father let all of this take place, given that you were already betrothed.

having no answer to that, you let your dear friend and lady-in-waiting help you slip into the silken black dress and proceed with the jewellery.

after lisa said she deemed you were in a fit state, you heard yet another knock at your door.

“your highness, the king is expecting you.”

“what great timing.”

catching your whisper, lisa only giggles and gives you a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“i am sure you will be fine, my princess.”

her mischievous smile only grew in size when you replied.

“i will. but nothing is certain for the one who will court me tonight.”

giving her a wink and a playful smile, you step to the doorway and let the guards push it open.

the tramp of two sets of marching feet could be heard behind your back. the sound alarmed the servants inside the castle, prompting them to bow as low as they could and pay their respect to the passing princess.

the thought that you were seen as an admirable figure, even a god by some, just because of your noble blood, always troubled you from a young age.

aerea did not think that she was more deserving of all of the gifts, given by the seven gods, than the poor smallfolk of the seven kingdoms.

hence, she evinced her benevolence and generosity to the people surrounding her. not because she wanted to be cheered on as “the realm’s delight”, but by virtue of her moral values.

having finally arrived before the door of the small hall, you take one last steady breath and slowly exhale, readying yourself for the awaiting charade on the other side.

the kingsguards bowed at you and opened the entry to the high-ceiling room.

a deep voice boomed to your right, signalling your presence.

“princess aerea targaryen!”

standing up to their feet, lord lannister and his son bowed their heads and awaited your next exertion.

your father watched calmly, smiling to himself at his daughter’s beauty and grace, a painful reminder of your late mother.

taking measured steps, you round the table and slightly bow at the king, seated at the end. after a few moments, you at last sat to your father’s right and smiled uneasily.

lord loren took it upon himself to commence the dialogue.

“your grace, princess aerea really is the epitome of elegance. i am honoured to finally meet you, your highness.”

while saying that, a faint smirk played at the corner of his lips, making you feel disturbed.

you glanced at your father’s face, him still smiling faintly and enjoying the compliments his daughter was receiving.

mustering up a polite smile, you turn your head to the lord on the other side of the wooden table.

“thank you, lord lannister. you truly flatter me.”

the young man observed you with a genuine curiosity, having heard quite a lot of whispers about the princess. alas, he decided to stay silent for now.

your father finally joined the exchange, standing up straight in his seat.

“lord loren, i have heard your son… the young lord kevan has shown outstanding merit during his swordsmanship trainings.”

the man eagerly nodded his head, agreeing with your father’s claim.

“yes, your grace! kevan possesses excellent prowess. when he was a little boy, he fancied watching our guardsmen fight one another. i knew he would become a splendid fighter.”

the older man patted his son on the shoulder as if to encourage him to say something, anything, to assert his presence. he really did look like a lannister. fair, golden hair and light green eyes. seemed like he was not quite talkative.

while the elderly went on talking about the imports of silks, dyes, and spices from Essos, you sat there and partly paid attention to the conversation. you did not show any interest in the lad sitting across the table. what troubled you was his constant, observing stare, following your every little movement.

he is such a creep! like father, like son, right?

good thing no one could hear your thoughts.

king daeron made a hasty gesticulation, and in a few seconds a few maids entered the hall, hands full of different exquisite dishes and wines.

finally! the faster we finish here, the better for me.

the princess had run out of patience, desperately wanting to get out of the lannister’s grip and retreat to her chambers.

not forgetting her manners, she ate a sufficient amount of food, chewing slowly, inaudibly, and with her mouth closed. she was careful not to sip too much wine or indulge in gluttony.

occasionally joining the tedious chatter, she exhibited forced grins and laughter, as to not seem distant or mannerless.

when aerea finally had enough of the futile charade, she seized the moment and carefully excused herself to the king and present lord; the reason was her drowsiness from the long day.

her father granted her permission to leave, and aerea stood up slowly to avoid appearing to be eager to vacate her seat.

she curtsied to the men, the lords also paying their respect to the princess by standing up and bowing to her.

what aerea did not miss was the evident anguish on lord loren’s face. she will definitely laugh about that with lisa later.

the doors closed behind her, her cue to release the sigh she was holding for so long.

she walked back the same path to her personal chambers, the guards still following her closely.

reaching her room, aerea ardently opened the doorway herself, entered, and closed it again with a thud.

the members of the kingsguard stood outside, confused by the princess’s doings.

the need to get rid of your clothes was overwhelming. you changed into your silky white nightgown, washed up as fast as you could, and lay in bed, alas restless.

this was the third time you had to endure having dinner with corrupt lords and their sons, men who grasped for power and authority through marriage.

you were well aware of the deal your father made with the king of ulthos. the marriage that awaited you, that will make you another kingdom’s queen. so why did your father allow all of this? certainly, the people of westeros were not apprised of the king’s scheming. no one knew, except for the council and the royal family. but was this pretence necessary?

on the other side of the world, park sunghoon was sitting at his writing table, quietly reading a history book. fatigue crept up his bones, resulting in him omitting words and even phrases. groaning lightly, he stood up and put the open book on the wooden surface next to him. the prince summoned his maids and ordered them to prepare him a hot bath.

while he waited, sunghoon strolled to the window in his room, taking in the scenery presented in front of him. the city beyond the gates of the castle was bustling with life even through the late hours of the night. guards were stationed on every corner of the stronghold. everything seemed peaceful. alas, sunghoon’s mind was not. with every passing day, his duties seemed to double, his training became more and more exhausting, and events he was unable to escape drew nearer.

his body ached from today’s combat with the swordmaster. his mind was buzzing with hundreds of thoughts, none of which were comprehensible.

sensing a presence in the dark room, he turned around only to see one of his servants.

the young girl anxiously bowed and spoke with a tremble in her voice.

“your highness, the bath is ready.”

the prince nodded slightly and shifted his attention to the aperture once again.

“next time you enter my chambers, do not forget to knock and announce yourself.”

his tone was cold and assertive, causing the girl to wince in trepidation.

“forgive me, my prince.”

the maid did not dare to raise her gaze and look at the man’s forbidding figure.

“you are dismissed.”

sunghoon listened closely for the girl’s footsteps, and only when he heard the door close did he turn around and start undressing.

he unbuttoned his black silk shirt and sauntered towards the washroom. once in front of the bath, filled with hot water, the prince fully undressed and stepped in.

sighing heavily as he felt his muscles relax, sunghoon laid back his head against the edge of the tub. his eyebrows softly twitched; his train of thought came to a screeching halt. he must wait to see what the following day has prepared for him.

“you should be glad that you have so many suitors wanting your hand in marriage, your highness!”

“suitors? do you call those immoral men suitors? they are pursuing the crown and the ascendancy that comes with it, not me!”

you softly laughed at lisa’s gullibility. lisa slowly followed behind you, choosing to abstain from replying.

the both of you were currently taking a walk in the gardens of the red keep. you promised to tell her of yesterday’s events, and so you did. but her opinion on the matter greatly differed from yours.

it was well before noon, and a meeting with your father awaited you. with time to spare before you had to present yourself in the castle, you decided to change the subject and continue your stroll to the greenhouse.

you found the king in his study, thoroughly examining a letter, clutched tightly in his hands. you stood near the entry, waiting for his acknowledgement.

after a few seconds, you timidly took a step forward.

“father, you asked for my presence.”

your soft voice broke his near stupor, making him lift his head. he looked nothing like the man he was yesterday at the dinner with the lannisters. your father’s stoic nature was evident once again, reminding you of the king he was. a good king, able to make harsh decisions at times needed.

“daughter, sit down.”

you took a seat and waited for his next words, wondering what the matter might be this time.

hopefully, not another dinner with a lord.

“i have received a letter of great importance.”

fidgeting with the hem of your dress, you stilled your breath.

the king took in your apparent agitation, a semblance of a smile flickering onto his lips.

“good news i might say. the king and crown prince of ulthos have finally made the decision to pay king’s landing a visit.”

hearing his father’s words, sunghoon showed no sign of shock, or dejection.

“when are we leaving then?”

“tomorrow, at sunrise. my master of ships has informed me that he expects the sea to be calm for the time being. the winds of winter have not picked up their strength yet.”

the king calmly took a sip of his wine, examining his son’s face.

“good. what should i be prepared for?”

chuckling, sunghoon’s father simply answered his son’s question.

“dragons.”

tittering lowly, the king did not receive any kind of response from his son. he was not in the mood for jests.

“oh! do not fret, son. the princess is said to be quite delightful.”

sunghoon did not pay mind to the king’s comment and softly exhaled.

just then, a knock was heard on the other side of the door.

“your grace, the hand wishes to speak with you.”

taking the cue to leave his father’s study, the prince stood up and bowed to the king. with a nod, he was ultimately dismissed.

sunghoon sipped the alcohol slowly, letting the bitterness engulf his taste buds.

“come on, now! you must enjoy yourself tonight, my prince.”

jake harshly patted the man’s back, prompting their other companions to howl with laughter.

sunghoon only glanced in his friend’s direction and asked.

“and why is that?”

“who knows? it might be your last. you could fall victim to the princess’s dragon! i doubt that she likes solemn men like you.”

the last part of jake’s reply did not catch the prince’s attention whatsoever.

“her dragon?”

“she is a targaryen princess, sunghoon. have you not realised that yet?”

calon said matter of factly, slightly irking sunghoon with his tone of voice.

the lad made a motion with his hand to catch the young men’s attention, making them draw nearer to him.

the only figure, which stood rooted in his place was sunghoon’s.

“there is a rumour that the egg hatched the day she was born. her dragon is quite large for her age. i wonder if the saying that targaryen women are as fierce as their dragons is true.”

another fit of laughter burst around the table. the crown prince was not happy with calon’s behaviour tonight, not failing to show it with the way his brows furrowed.

“tell me, calon. do you think you are amusing?”

calon’s smile faltered, and silence fell upon the group.

“why are you so capricious today, my prince?”

the way the title rolled off calon’s sharp tongue only fuelled sunghoon’s anger. he abruptly stood up, choosing to leave the table, but not before shooting a glare his friend’s way.

“sunghoon?”

the prince clearly heard jake’s voice calling for him, deciding to disregard him and leave the pub they entered together an hour ago.

servants were flitting around the castle, preparing for the visitants, who were to arrive soon. the floors were swept, the windows were polished, and the bushes in the gardens were trimmed to perfection.

soon enough, word spread around king’s landing and the people of the capital city battered the crown with overflowing inquiries. yet, the royal family refrained from providing the much-needed answers. at least, until the arrival of the crown of ulthos.

you did not recognise the emotion you felt when you were informed of the matter. was it relief? perhaps dismay? whatever it was, there was nothing to be done. your purpose was to become the bind between the two kingdoms and eventually bear heirs to the succeeding king.

with thoughts constantly plaguing your mind, you put down the book you were previously reading. you currently occupied a bench in the garden’s grounds, observing the servants removing the thorns of the red roses. you always wondered why they would do this if it shortened their lives. you relished in their beautiful bloom during the summer, with their thorns or not.

the princess heard footsteps drawing nearer towards where she sat. the voice that spoke out was perfectly familiar.

“your highness, i am sorry to disturb you.”

your servant annora, stood a few meters to your left, bowing ninety degrees at your figure.

turning your body slightly in her direction, you smiled warmly at the young girl.

she is always so dear and sweet.

“i am all ears, annora.”

reciprocating your beam, the servant allowed herself to walk closer to your body.

“you must pick your gown for the welcoming of ulthos’s royal family.”

oh! was that it?

“and his grace announced that he will be holding a jamboree for the king and crown prince the day they arrive.”

oh.

“did he state anything else on that matter?”

annora stayed silent for a few seconds, seemingly in thought.

“as far as i am aware, no, your highness.”

you nodded your head, turning your back to her and grasping the tome in your hands once again.

“very well. i will make my choice later today. thank you for informing me.”

despite your inability to see her movements, annora curtsied once more and took her leave.

they would reach the blackwater bay tomorrow if your calculations were correct, that is. which meant you had little time to prepare. both mentally and physically.

you continued with your reading, your mind preoccupied, causing you to feel as if the letters were moving of their own accord.

seems like today is not the day for reading.

“are you thrilled by the news, my dear sister?”

aegon chuckled, awaiting your reply, while sipping his dornish red wine.

you were currently attending the wonted supper, chewing the roasted carrots you opted for tonight.

aemond’s snicker only doubled your vexation. the loud clang of your silver fork against the rim of your plate silenced the two men, turning their attention to you.

you quickly turned your head towards the younger of the two, the sneer in your tone sharp like valyrian steel.

“what is so amusing to you, little brother?”

“children! do not spoil our family gathering!”

it was clear your father was weary of your bickering. his only desire was for his children to behave well and at least tolerate each other.

silence draped over the room like a velvet curtain, muffling even the clinking of the silverware.

you felt aemond’s stoic glare following your movements. as you looked at him, your eyes shivered with a mixture of anger and indignation. you never understood his ferocity, nor his motives.

your chair emitted a prolonged screeching noise as it dragged against the floor.

“i will take my leave now, father. i must prepare for tomorrow.”

you swiftly curtsied, giving your brothers a sidelong glance.

your father’s calls of your name went unanswered, and after the doors closed behind you, you bolted for your chambers, enervated from today’s circumstances, dreading tomorrow’s arrival.

after the princess awoke from her deep slumber, she lay motionless in her tangled sheets, eyes tightly closed and mind ground on the troubling events that were to occur. she did not know what to expect from the future, and the unknown rooted fear deep in her heart.

a pound startled aerea, making her slightly jump up from her position.

“your highness, are you awake?”

lisa’s head peeked out from the ajar door, a sigh escaping aerea’s lips.

the princess’s lady-in-waiting walked to her bed and sat next to aerea’s dainty figure. taking your warm hands in her own, lisa held them softly, her lips quirking into a warm smile. she sensed your unrest, knowing you like the back of her hand.

“i have always been fascinated by your strength. remember when the king forbade you to ride syrax, because of her fierce nature? nonetheless, you sneaked into the dragon’s pit and rode her for hours in that summer storm.”

you chuckled at the memory of your troubled adolescence.

“you possess a great strength of will, rea. you are a dragon. do not forget that.”

with renewed vigour, you took in lisa’s hands in your own, a gentle smile budding on your lips.

“i will not. i promise.”

your friend embraced you in a soothing hug, making you realise the immense pain you will suffer when you depart from each other. perhaps, you should take her with you?

“now! you should eat your first meal of the day and start the preparations.”

“chop-chop! we do not have much time.”

laughing at her antics, you untangle yourself from the silky white sheets and rise to your feet.

“i will have your breakfast served here, your highness. i will be back shortly.”

lisa turned on her heel towards the door but briskly changed her mind. she spun in your direction and pointed her finger at you.

“and i better not see you in your bed when i return.”

“is this a threat, lady massey?”

you could not help the smirk that lifted the edges of your mouth and barely held in your laughter.

“take it as you will, princess.”

and with that, she was out of your chambers, leaving you to wash yourself before breakfast came.

shortly after you ate your meal, countless maids entered your bedroom to perform their duty of catering to your needs.

first and foremost, they styled your hair in a traditional targaryen coiffure. they deemed it fit to put some pink powder on your pale skin in hopes of bringing some colour to your face. afterwards, the servants kindly helped you get in your red gown, the long transparent veil sweeping around your figure on the stone flooring. the dress fit you like a glove, the material was soft to the touch, and the added royal jewellery was a sure indication of your status.

“you look divine, your highness.”

hearing lisa’s feathery voice, you turned to see that the two of you were left alone in the room. you hadn’t realised the absence of the other maids. surely, you were out of your head.

your lips stretched into a thin smile.

“thank you, lisa.”

the girl walked to you and embraced you in a solemn hug. she knew you too well for her not to see through your facade. you felt uneasy, and anyone with eyes to see would detect it immediately.

her soft lips pecked you gently on your forehead. you closed your eyes for a moment, grateful that you were gifted with such a precious companion.

“i will leave you now. we will see each other after the celebration. yes?”

you mindlessly hummed in reply, letting go of lisa’s warm hand and saying your goodbyes.

exhaling softly, aerea observed her reflection in the gold-framed mirror.

i look…adequate.

shaking her head, she turned away and stepped to the door, ready to open it.

it is not my duty to be pleasing to the eyes of men.

the guards stationed on the other side of the doorway escorted you to the royal carriage, which was to take you to the port of blackwater bay.

the king was already waiting for his daughter inside, his brows furrowed deeply, his aggravation evident.

sitting next to your father, you queried the matter, which had put him in a temper.

“your brothers decided to stay in the red keep and welcome our dear guests there.”

in reply, you huffed out a short laugh. scanning the streets of king’s landing through the small window, you started picking at the skin around your fingernails. a habit you should have rooted out long ago.

“i am not even the slightest bit surprised by their insolence.”

your father’s silence troubled you, but the road to the bay was short, and you had to ground yourself before you had to step out of this enclosure.

before you realised it, the horse’s trotting halted, signalling your arrival.

your father exited the carriage, you taking your turn after him. he extended his hand to help you down the little steps, you lifting your gown with your left fist.

two maids and a great many white cloaks stood in front of you, waiting to serve you.

the servants took your long veil in their hands, lifting it over the dirty ground.

next to your father’s side, you sauntered towards the port.

your eyes skimmed the horizon, quickly noticing the huge ship sailing your way. an enormous flag danced in the wind, a head of an open-mouthed wolf with its sharp teeth showing.

any moment now, they will throw the anchor and set foot on westeros land.

you stilled your breath; the crew of the royal ship secured the gangplank to the dock.

multiple guards went ashore, moving in formations with their black cloaks fluttering in the breeze.

you held your composure well, not even the slightest shift was evident on your face.

the king of ulthos walked down the railway, his dark royal uniform shining under the sunlight.

your father shook hands with the man as if with an old friend.

your attention was drawn by the other figure setting foot on your land.

so this must be the crown prince.

the tall, pale man stood to his father’s right side, not daring to make eye contact with you.

“welcome to westeros, king jihoon.”

the waves of the calm sea kept crashing against the shore, the laughing gulls flying above the azure waters.

“it is a pleasure, king daeron.”

aerea glanced at the outlandish man, fortuitously meeting his slanted eyes.

daeron turned to his offspring, smiling affirmatively at her.

“my daughter and heir, princess aerea.”

the girl felt stupefied by her father’s proclamation, clearly befuddled at the newly appointed position.

heir? what is the meaning of this?

aerea stepped forward, bowing to the royalty before her.

“it is an honour, your grace.”

king jihoon laughed heartily, taking rea’s arm in his cold hands, making her stand up from the uncomfortable stance she was in.

“there is no need for such acts, princess.”

fixing her posture, she smiled restlessly, a hard line around her lips.

do they not show respect in ulthos? what kind of customs do they have there?

the man turned his head to the right, signalling his son to come to the fore.

“my son, sunghoon. the future king of ulthos.”

this time, you took your time basking in his appearance.

well, he is charming at the very least.

you started your inspection from his raven-dark hair, a few strands falling gently on his forehead, continued to his full eyebrows that framed his face so beautifully, then…

he was already looking at you, a triumphant smirk playing at the corners of his luscious lips.

clearing your throat, your right eyebrow twitched; you were absolutely astonished by your foolish mistake.

first meeting, and i already let myself feed his ego.

sunghoon showed his respect to you and your father and returned by his father’s side.

“now, it is time to celebrate your arrival. i have prepared a wonderful surprise, king jihoon.”

“splendid! lead the way, your grace!”

when the royal carriages arrived at the red keep, the small council greeted the king and crown prince of ulthos, your half-brothers present with them.

the feast was about to begin in the gardens of the castle, lords from all of westeros coming to see the outlandish royals and fill their bellies.

you did not think the time to speak with your father was right, adjourning the matter for later.

men filled their mouths with arbor gold wine and dined on duck sausages, while their wives gossiped and indulged in lemon cakes.

you stood near a small table, surrounded by ladies of some of the major houses in the kingdom, not bothering to listen to their witless conversations. until one part of it caught your full attention.

“don’t you think the crown prince is ravishing to look at? he looks quite exotic to me.”

a prolonged series of giggles erupted, causing you to finally join in.

“elaborate on exotic, lady redwyne?”

the blonde-haired woman was stunned by your defensive tone, stammering while replying.

“i did not mean any…offence, your highness.”

you hummed, fixing your gaze on sunghoon’s figure on the opposite side, chattering with a young man, you presumed from his kingdom.

“i am sure you did not. just…wrong choice of words.”

you looked at the young lady, an epitome of vanity standing right in front of you, your intimidating stare making her clench her jaw. you waited for a retort; however, not even a sound could be heard from the gossipmonger.

the tension around the group was evident, prompting you to go somewhere else, where you wouldn’t obstruct their palaver.

“if you excuse me.”

taking your leave, you ambled towards the rosarium. you doubted anyone was there, which meant you would have a moment of solitude.

right then, king daeron seized the moment by raising his glass, gathering the attention of the lords and ladies. everyone stood in silence to hear the king’s toast.

“everyone…we are assembled here today to celebrate events that will change the trajectory of our history. my daughter���”

his chalice was pointed in your direction, heads turned to you, the prime subject of everyone’s heed.

“my daughter and crown prince sunghoon, future king of ulthos are to marry and form an union that will bring our two kingdoms closer together. princess rhaenyra will rule the seven kingdoms and ulthos as the rightful queen of the iron throne alongside prince sunghoon!”

a string of awes and clapping followed, confusion and revelation swirling in your mind. your smile was uncertain; inside, your thoughts were filled with fear and raw emotions; you were unable to demonstrate at the moment.

as you looked up, you saw the two graces embracing each other in a celebratory clasp; sunghoon stood beside them as if waiting for you to make a move.

you beamed at the gentlefolk, all of whom gave you their best wishes.

your father could not see you among the crowd, worry starting to gnaw at him.

unluckily for you, sunghoon saw where you were going just when you turned on your heel and fled the celebration.

the princess was sat on a settee in the rosarium, looking into the abyss that was the now dark sky. she did not catch the approaching footsteps of her fiancé, too deep in thought.

“got startled?”

a gasp left her mouth; she yanked her head in the direction of the unfamiliar deep voice, not even supposing who it belonged to.

aerea straightened herself, clearing her parched throat.

“excuse me?”

sunghoon chuckled at her reply, stepping a bit closer to her figure.

“you chose the wrong moment to run away, princess.”

she sensed his haughty tone, crossing her hands in front of her chest in a defensive mode.

definitely not a good second impression, given he was dead silent earlier today.

“and why is that, prince sunghoon?”

his name felt foreign on her tongue, a bitter feeling creeping up her body.

“that is a silly question.”

“are you insulting me?”

rea didn’t remember him being so close to her, just an arm’s distance away. it seems she was so caught up in the argument, she didn’t feel herself inching closer to him.

should i just slap him? put him in his place and show him that no man can talk to me with that tone?

no! aggression is never the answer, aerea.

he was enjoying himself so much, he couldn’t help the smirk lurking on his lips.

“i never meant to insult you.”

sighing, sunghoon looked around the garden you were in, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“i am afraid we didn’t start on the best terms. it would be better for us to be cooperative. don’t you agree, your highness?”

you gazed to your side, thinking for a short moment.

he is right. but how do i agree without seeming submissive?

while you were fighting your internal battle, sunghoon took his time eyeing you from head to toe. you were beautiful; there was no denying it. but your attitude was quite…aggravating. that would be a hindrance for him.

“there is some truth behind your words… if we want for this marriage to be, uh...fortunate, we should be on speaking terms. at least?”

speaking terms? is that what she wants?

sunghoon ran a hand through his face, clearly perplexed by your words.

you huffed, his demonstrations offending you more than you liked.

he looked you dead in the eyes, no emotion behind them except maybe for a speck of annoyance.

“as you wish.”

you nodded your head and returned to your seat, expecting him to go away and leave you alone so you could curse him under your breath all you want. but he stood rooted to his place, huffing out a breath.

“how long are you going to stay here?”

“however much i want.”

your tone was sharp, teetering his mere vexation to infuriation.

he stood before you, extending his hand.

“come. we must return together.”

you gazed up to see some kind of tenderness in his look.

without a word, you grasped his much larger hand, a shiver running through your spine.

his skin is so cold.

standing up, you hooked your arm around his, your head on a level with his shoulder.

with your fiancé by your side, you were ready to return to the hawks that were the lords and ladies of the seven kingdoms.

[theantho1ogy]

Priest AU #2

Ushijima x Fem!Reader

Can be read as standalone

Content: spanking, cockwarming at the end, brat taming?

You were a gift given to him by God, but you were a brat. Teasing him when he was preaching to the church, wearing such low tops that made your breasts pop out just right, and always catching him when he's suppose to be studying the scripture.

This was another test, to receive salvation Ushijima needed to make sure you knew your place. One thing he loved doing was showing his devotion and this was another gift for him, making you learn the hard way.

Priest!Ushijima was alone in his office, going over the passages he would preach to the church in an hour. Until you came strolling in, your skirt short like always and top thin enough he can make out the lace bra you had on underneath.

A temptation you would be if you weren't already his.

"What did I say about barging into my office when I'm working." Ushijima stated, paying you no mind. You strolled up to his desk leaning over his bible, giving him a full view of your cleavage.

"I just wanted to get some alone time with you before you have to talk to everyone." You huffed out, a small out on your glossy lips. "You get me after and before service, don't tell me you're being greedy now." Ushijima said, his voice sounding bored of your shenanigans.

Your attitude only got worse with his lack of response, with a sly smirk you got right in front of his face and slowly pulled down your top. "Are you sure you don't have even a minute to spare for me." You said in a seductive tone, hoping he'd give in.

Ushijima's gaze was set, taking in the view of your plump chest. His quickly slammed his bible shut, "lock the door."

You smiled, thinking you've won. Prancing over to tie the lock before making your way over to him. "What are we going to do today sir." You asked, shimming out of your panties.

Ushijima paid you no mind as he pushed his chair back slightly, making room between him and his desk. He patted his lap, not breaking eye contact with you, "lay down."

Confused, you slowly laid yourself over his lap. "Um sir? What are we doing?" The hesitance evident in your tone.

He ignored your question, silently working his hands up your thigh before flipping up your skirt. Your perky ass on full display. He slowly massaged one cheek, before slowly doing the same to the other.

"Every time my palm connects with your pretty little ass, you're going to recite a commandment. Got it."

His tone showed he wasn't joking, not like he joked normally. Fearing punishment you agreed, "yes sir."

Without warning his hand struck your ass, coming down quick. You jolted, not expecting him to go so hard. "I don't hear you speaking." Another quick smack connected.

You stuttered out whatever came out the top of your head. "Th- thou shall not covet." Ushijima rubbed your cheeks, giving you a second before striking again.

"Thou sh-shall not steal." The quick pain went away as he massaged you. Making sure you weren't hurting too bad.

Three more hits came as you squeaked out more rules. The stinging more prominent than when he first started.

You noticed Ushijima paused longer than usual, until you felt his thumb prod your lips. Letting his finger run down your slit, feeling your wetness coat him. "Are you enjoying this?" He asked, before smacking your pussy.

You moaned out in surprise, the mixture of pain and pleasure getting you more turned on. "Five more and then I'll give you a reward." Ushijima promised.

An eager nod and a wiggle of your hips had him continuing. His red hand print turning him on as he hit both of your cheeks. The sharp sting feeling so good.

You couldn't help but moan in between words, fully aroused as your slick ran down your thigh.

Finally getting the last word out, you turned towards him. Smiling up at him, waiting for your reward. Ushijima carefully brought you to your feet, making sure you could stand before unbuckling his pants.

Your mouth salivating at the thought of finally getting him inside you.

His thick cock standing so prettily, as he pulled it out of his pants. Slowly grabbing your waist as he maneuvered you to sit on top.

The stretch had you both moaning, your insides clenching around him as he filled you up. After a minute of adjusting you slowly started grinding down on him.

But he harshly smacked your pussy, abruptly stopping your movements.

"Your reward is to sit on my cock while I continue my studying before you rudely interrupted." You whined out, your lower half unconsciously squirming, begging for some type of friction.

A sharp smack came down on your front once again. "Do you understand." He glared out. "Yes sir."

Carefully adjusting his posture, he opened up his bible and continued on like nothing ever happened.

After the hour was up, and Ushijima was back in the public eye and performing for the audience. You sat in the back of the pews like every Sunday, but this time you had a small pillow underneath you.

[pawinpersu]

when i met you in that hotel room ₊ 𓂃 venti / barbatos

♡: afab!reader. reader works at angel share (lets pretend its a hotel lol) maid!reader. needy!venti. consent kink. cunnilingus. pnv. mating press. slight breeding kink. pretty much fluff !! slight self loathing from venti... (he ain't been getting action and he feels old.) mostly dom! venti (im so sorry i didnt make him very switchy) has been proofread hopefully its not ooc ..(。·ˇ‸ˇ·。)…

staying in a room at the angel share, after buying a whole bottle of dandelion wine, venti sighs to himself in contentment. observing his land outside the window, admiring in his thoughts how that maid looked delivering his drinks to his booth about thirty minutes ago. the maid outfit looked so sinfully beautiful on you. it had been... ages since his last rendezvous esque relationship. desperate, he called himself. not that he looked old but after being thousands of years on teyvats warm shores you grow slightly unaware of things, mostly due to cutting himself off from such relationships. not that he doesnt desperately want one.

calling up service to his room, knowing it will be you. his body aches, this form becoming slightly uncomfortable. he sees your silhouette as you open the door, smiling sweetly he bids you to come in. "is there something you need, sir?" you ask kindly, an underlying gruffness to your voice. sweet thing. so precious. so overworked. must you trouble yourself with such things in a place where freedom reigns? he asks you in his head, not voicing his thoughts. "hic! i would.. hic! like some.. room service, dear maiden- hic! unngh" hiccups, he curses. maybe he has drunk too much.

he leans up on the bed with his elbows, patting with his hand beside him, looking up at you with his pretty emerald, with light greens and azures mixed in them eyes. you question, before sitting down beside him, the slightly short outfit riding up your thighs. as observant as venti is he is quite aloof to certain things, but never this. he thanks himself, reminding himself of his status, he shudders. this girl, was a mere mortal. how could.. how could he possibly be so unwavering towards her, so needy. wishing her hands were undoing his corset. his belt. his shorts. anything right now would save him from thinking so much!

his voice slightly heightens, his eyes trail down your body before looking up into your eyes again. "have.. hic!" he cuts himself off cursing the hiccups once more. he reaches out his hand, holding it towards her. as you take it, he pulls you down a bit onto the bed. "hic! you.. hic!... sweet maiden grown a match of poppies and cecelia's, my dear? you are so incredibly sweet." his words like honey, yet with a bit annoyed tone. he needs something to get rid of these hiccups! his charm!

his eyes lake over your pretty face, admiring your features. swallowing softly, hopefully that will take them away, pushing a strand of your hair out of your face. "does this feel right, my sweet flower? have i stepped to far, please, indulge my questions with your answers, whatever you need or want, i shall give it" no matter how badly he wants you. deciding now if you say get off me or, no, then he wouldnt be upset, how dare he even if he was, having just the one moment will suffice lifetimes. your softness, your face close to his, his hands able to caress yours, and your pretty face. he wants to whine. the sensations feel as if they did the first time.

you give him a shy nod, your mind and heart race. you need to go back, to clean, to do your job. but.. the way he looks at you. the way he talks to you, the way he touches you. like you're a piece of crystal, a jewel. you watch him softly, your breath hitching as he grows closer. his hand trailing down your thigh. his eyes glazed with lust and something slightly calm, and content. his fingers start making patterns on the flesh of it. "may i kiss you, sweet flower? please hear my heart for what it needs is something so delicately beautiful as you"

another nod, his words fill you with ache. no man has ever given such bold advances to you, as he kisses you his lips move against yours, making you feel light headed. his want his need is excruciating. how many years has it been since such a feeling has made him lightheaded. his hands trail up to the swells of your hips gripping them with his fairly soft hands. you're soft, delicate, and utterly gorgeous. almost sinfully he adds in his head. how long has barbatos been without shame in this very moment. not caring if others heard you outside the hotel room. or him.

whenever you get the courage to move your own lips against his, he whines. he's vocal and he's not afraid to show it, gripping your hips harder he slightly moves more on top of you, not breaking the kiss. his lips more feverish. his face hot not just from the alcohol but the slight recoil of embarrassment. afraid if he might continue he might just make a fool of himself. he whines before pulling away from the kiss seeing your eyes flutter open at him cutely, makes him longing for more. "you taste divine dear. i simply cannot get enough of you." his voice gruff, his eyes feel hazy. glazed over with something more than desire. "may i continue, beautiful girl? ill love you with care my sweet flower" he says, promisingly.

"i.. yes.. yes please" your own body is hot, the maid outfit suddenly uncomfortable. dear barbatos forgive me, you say in your head. hearing him chuckle. "ah. sweetheart, dont trouble yourself with asking for forgiveness. not when this is so right" he kisses down your neck, prying your thighs open softly, his hips grinding now against yours. "ah.. dearest me, even such small stimulation you feel amazing." saying through the kisses. he bunches your skirt up, his fingers playing with the hem of your panties, before digging his nails into your hips. grinding harder.

"hnngh.. how could i possibly let go of this.. feeling.. nngh!" he whines, biting at your neck. sucking harshly. hearing your small gasps, he kisses back up to you jaw. "y.. you're so sweet, my flower. unngh.. ahnn.." his hips buckle, his face grows hotter. wanting, needing more. "such a pretty face, a gorgeous body.. nngh.. ah- just like that" he whispers, moving a bit faster. able to feel his length through the soft and sensual grinds. he takes a deep breath before looking down at you. "im going to remove this pretty outfit, maiden, is that okay? may i?" he asks eagerly, his hips halter.

"yes.. please. please. no one has ever made me feel this way" you gasp out, you panties already slick with desire. whining a bit at the lost of the friction, you push yourself more up against him. he chuckles a bit, getting a ego boost. admiring how thirsty you are just as he is. he slowly pushes the maid outfit down your gorgeous body. seeing your lacey garments, connecting with your thigh highs. he bites his bottom lip before grazing his hand down your hips, to your ass. squeezing the flesh.

"how sinfully beautiful those look on your gorgeous skin. so soft, so pretty." he kisses your tummy. his hand squeezing at the flesh of your hips again. his head moving down to your thighs, pushing your navel to make you lay down all the way, you push up on your elbows to watch him. kissing your inner thighs, eyeing your pussy, such a delicate things. kissing your clothed cunt softly, before looking up at you seeing you gasp, he smirks, a slight chuckle vibrating against your clothed mound. he pulls down your lacey garment, down your thighs the thigh highs still on. after finally getting them off he looks up at you once more.

"mmm, such a pretty, pretty flower you have my dear maiden. may i?" always asking for consent, always considering you first. you nod impatiently. he nods, his breath warm against your pussy, before licking softly, prodding your folds open. his eyes rolling back, ah how he's missed giving pleasure to a woman. he presses your hips more to his mouth, licking the labia softly. using spit to coat more of your glistening sex as he sucks on your delicate cunt, using his jaw to give more friction. slurping your essence, you're so new to this. new to how such things work, but fuck. the way he looks up at you while he does it.

after awhile his ministration's don't stop, he needs to make you come first. he whines against your pussy, slurping lewdly against it. sucking your pretty clit, your hips buckle. gasping. "oh.. fuck! there.. there.. ah!" you cry out, feeling his lips suckle faster making you see white. your hands instinctively gripping his hair pushing him, as your back arches and hips buck, your slick coating his lips and tongue. you gasp for air, as the feelings subdue. a whine to your breathing, your elbows aching as you fall back all the way, your legs shaking.

"mmm.. absolutely luscious." he licks his lips. pushing up on his hands crawling back on top of you. kissing your lips, tasting yourself as he moves his tongue into your mouth. the sensual kiss making more blood go to his aching cock. roughly pushing his shorts down, making his dick slap against his tummy, removing his corset and top, cursing at himself. why does he wear so many layers, fuck. he lifts your legs, pushing them to your chest, holding them with one hand, stroking his cock softly. "anngh.. you look angelic. my little flower, is this what you want? please. i need to fill your pretty pussy up, so... bad. nn.." his hips falter, getting even more aroused by his own words.

as you consent, you cover your face. feeling his other hand move down to spread your sensitive cunt apart, rubbing the tip softly against it, he whines. not able to take it anymore, he softly pushes against warm and tight channel. his eyes roll back, his other hand still holding your legs up, before his other grabs your hand, holding it softly. "oh.. fuck!" he breathes out, his hips going in slow thrusts, but needing to go faster, needs to breed this small pussy. gods, how badly has he needed this, fuck. he looks at you, pulling away from holding your hand grabbing the other on your face. "shhh... sweet cecelia, dont hide your pretty face."

he starts going faster, his face contorts, his braids move rapidly, as well seeing your breasts move with each thrust, makes his insatiable need grow. he whimpers, gripping the flesh under your thighs again, being slightly sloppy. "hnngh.. fuck.. you're so.. so gorgeous my windblume, im.. mmm.. feel s'fucking good.. so good" his insistent compliments and feverish thrusts of his cock, makes you feel crazy. his words, his body, his touch, everything about this man was.. so.. good. so so good. no one has ever made you feel this way. you whine, looking up at him, your mouth parted as you breath in gulps of air, breathy moans making him ache. needing to see you come on his cock, needing to see your face as he fills you up. needing it, craving it.

".. ah! please please.. s-shit!.. ah.. oh fuck.. gonna.. gonna breed you.. gonna.. fuck! make this pretty flower all.. all mine..!" he grumbles, positioning his hips harder, before whining feeling your pussy gush and tighten around him making his thrusts sloppy, he falls on top of you. still gripping the muscles under your pretty thighs. he hears you gasp, feeling your nails into his shoulders suddenly as your cunt flutters around him, your slick gushing down at each press of his cock. "ah! ohh.. please, please please!" you whine, before it turning into cute mewls.

fucking hell, he liked that. oh he needed that, he pushes your knees up more, going deeper, feeling your velvet walls clench as the lasting moments of your orgasm hit you, he whimpers his hips faltering once more before picking up the pace again. "holy.. hnnghh... my pretty cecelia.. im.. nngh.. im.. gonna.." he pushes his face in the crook of your neck as his hips grow sloppy, his cock throbbing as fills your pretty pussy, feeling it bulge your cute tummy. he whines, panting against you.

"f.. fuck.. fuck.. fuck.. mmph! filling you up, so." thrust "good, nngh.." his climax subsiding, still tenderly thrusting inside you, as he catches his breath he looks up at you through his lashes. "my sweet, gorgeous flower." he says softly, giving you small kisses now. before catching his strength to slightly lift up, brushing your glistening hair from your face. having a content smile on his face, he cups your chin seeing your fucked out gaze, assuming he has the same look. "don't you look exquisite, so, so pretty. sucha good girl. my pretty windblume" he giggles, squishing your face. bending down once more kissing you, a soothing lullaby to your exhaustion.

♡an: omg this is the longest small fic ive ever done, i locked in. LOLL.. hope u all like it :3 for @astronomerzin

[madthetruemad]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 22 | Sent Away

You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

Fic Masterlist

“The engagement is off, you should hurry back home to your father.”

Jing Yuan didn’t look you in the eyes when he said that to you and went over to his armor and equipment, and slowly, almost solemnly, he started to put it on, but you weren’t having it.

“Yuan! You can’t just-“

When he clipped the last piece of his armor on, he had summoned his glaive, and all too quickly the tip of it was pointed right at your neck.

“Princess!”

Much to your surprise Blade was the first to grab a hold of you and pull you back to which Jing Yuan merely hummed and stabbed his glaive into the ground, his eyes watching you carefully as his other hand toyed with the key between his fingers.

“Let me shed some light on the situation, princess. You have lied to your Emperor, plotted with my enemies, and even planned to escape this place. I have decided to look past your misdeeds, broke off our engagement, and am giving you a clear chance to go back to the home that you so very much want to return to. If you decide to argue with me, then I will cut you down and be done with it, past lover or not.”

“Princess…,” you felt Gepard’s hand on you, tugging at you lightly.

You wanted to fight, to say something, but against Jing Yuan?

“I understand, my Emperor,” you bowed your head, “I shall return home then…, Gepard. Please escort me to my room, so I can pack my necessities, we will leave immediately.”

“Of course, Princess.”

Both you and Gepard left the training grounds leaving the three alone.

“Was that wise?”

Jing Yuan looked to Dan Heng and merely smiled, “the farther she is from Sunday, the better. Now, the three of us have work to do.”

Meanwhile, you had already made it back to your room and were angrily stuffing your clothes and whatnot into a single piece of luggage. Gepard was watching nervously on the side. He’s never seen you so angry before.

“Ah! Seems I’ve made it in time!”

You jumped slightly as you turned to see Feixiao, a smile instantly forming on your lips as you remembered that she was going to help you escape here.

“I guess you’ve heard?”

The general nodded as she watched you shut your suitcase, “to be honest though, I am worried with how easy Jing Yuan is letting you go.”

You shrugged, “maybe he couldn’t let go of his past love?”

“But isn’t that you?”

“We may be the same person, but… at the end of the day, we’re so very different.”

Same soul, same face, same memories, and yet…

Feixiao nodded, “I understand, princess,” she saw you pick up your luggage to which Gepard stepped forward and took for you.

“I hope we will meet again.”

You nodded to her words, “as do I.”

Feixiao bowed to you one last time as you exited your old room and as you walked the castle walls you noticed how emptier it seemed. It was almost haunting. A carriage is already waiting for us, Gepard noted as you descended the steps and opened the castle’s main doors.

“Little lady.”

Your eyes brightened as you saw Boothill.

“Boothill! Will you be escorting us?”

He tipped his hat to you, “of course, and I promise ya that this ride will be smooth sailing. Though, I must ask, how do you know my name?”

You smiled and gave him a wink when he opened the carriage door for you and Gepard was busy packing your luggage.

“How could I forget the cowboy I saved in the middle of night?”

He chuckled softly, “how sweet,” he said, “being remembered by such a pretty princess.”

He closed the door once you were inside, and you found yourself looking out the carriage’s window. Your eyes looking towards to castle as you tried to see if anyone was coming to say goodbye.

But… no one came.

Gepard came into the carriage next, “the trip will be about three days, but you’ll be home soon.”

“Good… I’m glad…”

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[acatnamedpusheen]

Two of Hearts (Declan x Reader)

Pairing: Declan x fem!reader

Word count: 7K (I've never written anything this long brace yourselves)

Genre: Mutual pining, enemies to lovers kinda vibes, smut in the end(that was the whole point), hella cliche

Warnings: Some bad words here and there, sexual themes obviously, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (I should be locked away), english not being my first language, me rarely using a full stop

Summary: You and Declan are sent on a trip to Como in Italy to attend an award ceremony. After a series of events you end up revealing your feelings for each other.

A/N: I totally did not get this idea as soon as I read that Aidan got secretly married to Caitlin in Italy (somebody lobotomise me). I should mention that I'm not following the timeline of the series, I mixed things up, good luck with that. Also play along with me and pretend it's normal for the british tv awards to be taking place in Italy, alright? This fic took an unnecessary long amount of time during which I was hopelessly sitting in front of a blank white screen with a blinking cursor every single day for 2 weeks. It took every bit of sanity left in me, I was contantly going between "this is so good" and "this is the crappiest shit to ever be written" . Still leaning towards that secong option but, I shall end my yapping here and let you read.

"You're going to Italy with Declan next week." Tony Baddingham casually told you after calling you to his office.

"What? Why?!" there was nothing in Tony's expression that indicated there was any space for negotiation or a way out of this, but these questions involuntarily came out your mouth with a clear protesting tone.

"British Television Awards, special edition taking place in Como this year. Declan has won an award and I can't send him alone, there needs to be some sort of representation from Corinium. And before you open that pretty little mouth of yours again, neither me nor Cameron can go because there are some issues that need to be settled, regarding the next season of Four Men Went To Mow." Tony finished that last sentence with a roll of his eyes. He obviously would have preferred a nice trip to Italy and a chance to show off his power and success infront of all the other producers and station owners that would be attending. Four Men Went To Mow was all Corinium had without Declan, so he had to make sure everything was arranged for its next season.

"I see..." you slowly nodded with a smile that wasn't really hiding your annoyance and turned around to exit Tony's office, barely catching a glimpse of him winking at you with that smug face of his before ligthing a cigar.

You've been working with Tony for a long time at Corinium, you were used to his 'manners' and how much of an authoritarian he was. That didn't mean he wasn't driving you mad, you just had found your ways of putting up with him. That had changed, however, when Declan O'Hara, the ruthless, irish journalist joined Corinum's picture. You had been assinged as his personal assistant, much to his dismay because, like he'd said: 'he does his own research'. Nevertheless, he did need someone to keep him a bit organised and Tony insisted you reported to him about any ongoing research because Declan tended to get quite uncooporative at times. So now, not only did you have to put up with a dictator of a boss, but also this arrogant, excessively proud workaholic you were supposed to be 'assisting'.

"What's wrong?" Declan asked upon seeing you storming in his office after exiting Tony's.

"Nothing." you tried to sound unbothered as you reached for some papers in hopes of distracting yourself. It wasn't really working.

"Oh I know better than to believe a woman answering this question with 'nothing' while she's looking clearly bothered by something." he replied with an amused tone while crossing his arms, accent thick and textured like crystallized honey, making you huff in annoyance.

"Did you know Tony is sending us to Italy next week?" you turned to him.

"Yes, somebody has to go and get that award. And see the look on the faces of all these idiots that never appreciated me." that smirk on Declan's lips was doing things to you. Things you were sure would send you straight to hell if one was to know of them.

"It doesn't sound like you really need me in any of this, though. Or do you think the award will be a bit too heavy for you to hold it all by yourself?" it was your turn to sound smug and the subtle laugh you earned from Declan felt like a reward.

"It's better for the station's image to not just send me there alone and I'm sure Tony explained how he can't send anyone else right now. Besides..." he paused and took a few steps until he was directly in front of you. "I want you there." he locked eyes with you causing your gaze to quickly shift to some other spot around you. "You're part of this show, you worked for this award too." your eyes met his again and you could really see sincerity in them. It felt like this was the first time he was genuinely recognising your work. Always too proud to let a single compliment about your contribution slip past his lips. Was he resorting to simple flattery for the purpose of the trip, you wondered.

"Could you at least tell me you'll be a bit less of a pain in the arse during those 3 days that we're going to be there?" it wasn't unusual for you to express how irritating Declan could get every now and then and you were sure not giving in to any potential tricks of his just yet.

"You know I can never promise such thing, sweetheart." there came that sinful smirk again as he patted the side of your arm before taking a step back and walking to exit the room.

There was no denying you had caught feelings for Declan over time, but you kept trying to find a way to persuade yourself that it was just a stupid phase. None of this was right. He was technically your boss, married even though his wife had just left him, with 3 children and quite older than you. You never had a chance with him and you never even should. You had it all under control up until then, partially hiding behind you constantly being cross with him. But only god knew how you kept longing to feel his toned back and shoulders under your touch, or taste his lips on yours. No, this was so wrong and just a phase, you constantly lied to yourself. A business trip with just the two of you alone, however, could easily reveal the truth and that was the actual reason why it was making you so nervous. As much as you'd wanted to let Declan know how you felt instead of letting it eat you away you dreaded the possibility of making things awkward between the two of you.

-

"You don't mind me sleeping through the entire ride, do you?" you were up on basically no sleep at an ungodly hour in the morning before the sun was even up, for a 2 hour drive to London to catch your flight to Milan. From there you'd be taking the train to Como for about an hour. 'Why did the British Television Awards had to take place in Italy?!' you kept thinking to yourself, your eyes barely able to stay open and then remembered Tony babbling something about it being a special anniversary edition or whatever this year.

"Of course not, but don't expect me to not do the same as soon as we're on that plane." Declan chuckled softly. He was relieved that the circumstances of your trip were such, that allowed, required even, either one or both of you to doze off during most times. He didn't want to make it awkward between the two of you now that you weren't sitting together for work. And he hated to admit it, but he was glad you'd be sleeping while he was driving, because he could easily steal glances at you without getting caught. He liked you, there was no denying that he did, but this felt so new to him and he feared it all might just be some sort of weird reaction to the fact that Maud had left him, sinking in. All these years married and he'd never even thought about looking at another woman, the way his wife did at another man. But now you had come in the picture and Maud had made her exit and it felt so different. You were different, you intrigued him, excited him. The way you carried yourself, the way you opposed him. It wasn't in the way Maud did, because she never liked him for what he truly was, she just wanted attention, whereas you understood Declan. Your 'insults' were innocent, just there to remind him when he was crossing the line and he knew that. What he didn't know was if there was any chance you saw him the way he saw you.

-

"Just a quick question, what do you find more appaling in this situation, me or Italy?" he turned to you with a playfull tone after you'd found your seats on the plane.

"You of course." you joked causing both of you to laugh. "Don't mind me, really, it was just the way Tony announced it, nothing else." you assured him before going back to whatever book you had picked to keep you distracted, surprised that for once you were thankful for Tony's actions upon realising that he'd booked business class seats, which granted space in-between you two. There was no way you could stay sane with Declan being any closer to you than he already was.

The remaining part of this long trip continued in equal silence. You'd only exchanged a few words on how magnificent the green scenery that occupied hundreds of kilometers outside the train window was, or on some new information about whatever research was currently in progress for the next show. And after what seemed like an eternity, in the late afternoon, you had finally arrived at the hotel you'd be staying for the next 2 days.

- 

"Would you like to join me for dinner later? I'm sure we can find a nice restaurant nearby." his all too familiar voice stopped you before you opened the door to your room right next to his. Oh how he wished he could openly ask you out, reveal his true feelings for you, now that you were away from all the familiar faces. Instead he had to make do with this question and hopes you'd accept. 

"I don't think Declan O'Hara, almost officially divorced, should be spotted having dinner with his assistant alone in some restaurant in Como, don't you think?" as much as you wanted this, you had to put your reputations above it. You might be away from the closed society of Rutshire, but Declan was still somewhat of a public figure and was expected to be here for the awards. You couldn't afford seeing your names on the front pages of tabloids, or be the one having to deal with Tony's rage if that were to happen. He gave you this job because he knew you were the one who could stop Declan from acting on impulse and that's what you were determined to do. Besides, it helped keep your irrational thoughts at bay too. "You can go alone on this, I'll probably just order room service, I'm quite tired anyway."

"Then, I'll order room service too and we can sit on my balcony. I've been told the view is exquisite." he saw you preparing to protest and was quick to continue "Come on, love, we can't act like total strangers until we get back. You got dragged here because of me, let me try to at least make it even a bit enjoyable." 

Hearing the nickname 'love' fall from his lips had your knees feeling weak. He called you things like 'love', 'darling' or 'sweatheart' every so often and it was the way he seemed to use these words so naturally with you that had you melting. "Only because you're asking me so nicely." your expression softened. "Anything along the lines of meat, salad or pasta would be perfect. But make sure there's wine." because not in a million years could you handle dinner with Declan sober. "And I'll be over in a minute." were your last words as you dissapeared behind your door leaving Declan in the hallway, before he had a chance to say another word. 

Alone in your room, you couldn't help the shy smile that found its way to your lips as you let out a deep breath. You had to compose yourself, it was just dinner on a business trip.  Declan seemed to mirror you with one of his signature smirks at the thought of getting to spent some private time with you outside the context of work. Last time he had gotten anything close to that was months ago at the NYE party at his house, where practically the whole of Rutshire was invited and he couldn't recall saying anything more to you than a 'hello' , 'happy new year' and 'goodbye". Did he even see you when you left? He couldn't say for sure. Of course there where times when he was tempted to invite you over to the priory. To have you finishing up work at his study and things escalating to... well, other things, but he knew how irresponsible that was, with Taggie and Maud potentially a few walls away. How it would probably make you believe he was a pervert.

- 

"So, ready for the big day tomorrow?" you asked in an attempt to keep some sort of conversation going and avoid the thick awkward silence that kept threatening to fall. Your eyes followed the red wine in the glass you were placing back down on the table, as the sun was setting behind the green mountains surrounding the lake, painting it in hues of orange. The early September breeze setting the perfect temperature for open-air dining. If anyone were to see you and Declan sitting on that balcony, they would, without a doubt, assume  you were a couple sharing a romantic dinner quite possibly on their honeymoon too. But the truth was far from anyone's assumptions.

"There isn't much to be prepared for anyway." Declan said nonchalantly before taking another bite off his plate. 

"Well, do you know what you are going to say? Won't you get nervous in front of all these people?" your eyes met with his.

"I'll tell them how pleased and thankful I am for the award, I won't forget to mention Corinium and I think I'll be just fine." seeing you nod, he proceeded to add the one thing that was actually making him nervous "And I want you up there with me." his doe eyes had yours widening in surprise. 

"What, me? Why?" as much as you were surprised there was no doubt you found this quite flattering.

"Because, like I've told you before, this award belongs to you too and you didn't come all this way just to sit there and watch me take all the credit, did you?" was he compromising his image by choosing to have you on stage with him so soon after his wife had left him? He didn't care. Besides, you were representing Corinium and your contribution to his show was undeniable.

"Who am I to say no to you, I guess?" two glasses of wine in and rather tired, you smiled in defeat. If only you could stop resisting him in other ways too. Him taking you right on that balcony for any prying eyes to see that he was yours, would have been a true delight. It was moments like this, that you realised you were capable of surprising your own self with such wild thoughts. Luckily, they where soon cut short by the one man conquering them.

"Speaking of which, I have something else I've been meaning to tell you." he was hesitant. Why? Had he spoken to Tony about firing you? That would explain why he kept mentioning how much he appreciated your work. "I want to leave Corinium and bid for the franchise with a team of my own." you didn't say anything, unsure of what that meant for you and your job. "I was hoping you'd be part of it." he chose his next words carefully.

"Y-you're asking me to go against Tony and risk losing my job and any chance of even getting another one?" your blood run cold just thinking about such thing.

"I'm asking you, to help me go against Tony and possibly make televison history. I've got Rupert Campbell-Black on this, we stand a great chance if we work smart." he kept his voice low, forearms on the table as he leaned in closer giving you a stern look. He was definitely serious about this.

"A 'possibly' and 'a great chance' are not enough for me to put my future at stake. If Tony finds out I helped you out with this and then your little venture fails, I'm done. He will make sure I never find a job again, ever." you stressed that last word. Getting fired suddenly sounded a lot less terrifying than Declan's proposal. 

"Why do you always have to bend to his will? Can't you see this is your chance to finally leave that bastard?" he raised his voice and huffed in annoyance, unable to undertsand your obsession with being so loyal to Tony.

"Because, that bastard is the one giving me this job which is mainly to deter you from making stupid decisions and keep things running smoothly." you fired back.

"Sounds more like your job is to do anything he asks you to, to keep him pleased. I wouldn't be surprised if he had you bent over his desk every other night." as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The pain in your eyes violently brought him back to his senses. He should have never said that, but the thought of that brute having his way with you just for fun was torturing his mind. He wanted to take you as far away from him as possible, he loved you too much to let you stay working for Tony. He needed you for himself.

"Do you really think so low of me?" your voice was barely above a whisper, your brows knitted together in dissapointment. The sun was now long gone behind the peaks, there was no color reflected on the water anymore and the air suddenly felt sharp and cold, perfectly matching Declan's words.

Ηe struggled to form his next sentence. The man who had each and every one of his show guests at his fingertips, who knew how to speak his way through any situation, sat defeated before his most trusted colleague.

"No, look, I'm sor-"

"You know, if this has anything to do with Maud leaving and you feeling the need to take it out on somebody else, I can try to understand but by no means accept it." with firm hands on the table, you pushed your chair back and stood up, ignoring Declan's useless efforts to apologize.

"I'll see you tomorrow for the ceremony. I'll be ready by 5. Good night." with a final glance at him you made your exit. All this time you'd been working together and it seemed like this was the very first moment he'd witnessed genuine hurt and anger taking over you. He sat there, unable to move an inch but instictively reaching for a cigarette, taking it between his lips and lighting it with slightly shaking hands. Why couldn't he separate his TV persona from his real self and refrain from dissecting people just to feel something? Why couldn't he stop hurting the people he loved and cared for?

-

Your reflection in the vanity mirror opposite the room's bed had begun turning into something unfamiliar after you'd zoned out for the umpteenth time while getting ready.

The walk you'd taken earlier by lake Como, had helped you clear your mind a great lot. You had found yourself unable to get enough of the breathtaking view that stood before you. A vast body of water so calm and still the entire sky was mirrored on it and on its edges, like antexifes, beautiful houses in vibrant colors, all engulfed by the rich green, imposing mountains in the backround. This place felt as if it didn't belong to earth, as if it was a piece of heaven that had fallen from the sky, or was magically accessed through some sort of portal that went unnoticed. 

Your mind kept travelling back to those images, your heart still a bit sore from Declan's false assumptions about you, as you fixed the final details of your hairstyle - an elegant updo containing far more bobby pins and hairspray, that you'd usually go for. You'd hoped this fairytale-like town would have been the catalyst for a much more pleasant series of events, but maybe this was all for the best. A sign that you should deny and bury your feelings for good. How naive of you to expect anything else.

A knock on the door, though gentle, startled you interrupting your train of thought. Withought questioning who it was, realising you must have lost track of time, you were quick to get up and open it. And the sight it revealed was a true eye candy. You could have sworn you were ready to forgive Declan right on that spot just because of that tuxedo he'd chosen and the way his raven black curls were so perfectly slicked back.

"You look ravishing." for a split second you thought he was reading your mind, but the compliment was for you instead. The black velvet v-neck dress that hugged your body in all the right ways certainly did not go unnoticed by the handsome irishman that stood before you. He'd never seen you all dolled up before and that certainly had him feeling something stirring up inside him. Your eyes, carefully outlined with black, looked more enticing than ever and your lips, painted scarlet red suddenly felt too inviting. Was this his punishment for acting like such a jerk the previous night?

"You don't look half bad yourself." you returned with a mischievous look and moved past him to continue down the hallway, but stopped just a few steps in after noticing Declan wasn't following you. 

"Are you coming or not?" you turned around to see him in the exact same spot you'd left him. You'd forgotten that the best part of your dress was its open back rather than the v-neck cut in the front and Declan was definitely pleased with this discovery. Your voice pushed away all the unholy thoughts running through his mind and without missing another second he was striding to your side. 

"I know you still might not want to hear it, but I have the right to apologize formally for what I said yesterday." he began once he caught up with you. "I didn't mean it and I don't see you like that." he added, looking straight ahead as you both walked to the elevator.

"The words weren't the ones doing the damage. After all, I've been working for Tony for a couple of years now, I can handle insults. It was the fact that you, of all people, said them. And I know better than to think they were chosen without thought, so what was the matter?"  stopping in front of the elevator doors, your steady gaze fell on his features that always seemed to be burdened by troubles he rarely revealed to anyone.

"It's just that I think you deserve better, so much better." he admitted with a heavy sigh. 

"Allow me to decide that myself, next time." you replied with a tight-lipped smile just as the familiar sound signaling the elevator had arrived, was heard.

"If you ever change your mind, there will always be a place for you in Venturer. I want you to know that." he let you enter first and followed close behind, taking the space right next to you.

"I appreciate that. Is that how you'll call it, Venturer?" you shot him a curious look. 

"Yes, you don't think it's suitable?" he frowned at your question.

"No, I just think it sounds...dreamy!" the doors opened once again after you last word and you both stepped out to get to the car that was waiting outside the lobby. You may not have caught a glimpse of it, but Declan did shoot you a puzzled look upon hearing your answer. It wasn't really what he was expecting to hear, a simple 'no' or a 'yes but' would have made a lot more sense, but then again he wouldn't have fallen for you if everything you said came straight out that little box in his brain containing everything that made sense to him.

-

"And the award for best TV interview show host, goes to..." this was your queue, the big moment had finally arrived and you turned to look at Declan sitting next to you, only to find him doing the same. His demeanor had changed, though. With a half smoked cigarette between his smirking lips and a glint of confidence in his eyes, there was no doubt that you were now looking at the 'vicious Irish Wolfhound of Corinium'...

"Declan O'Hara!" the room erupted in applause after the presenter's announcement and you hugged each other in the most effortless and natural way possible. A feeling so new, yet somehow neither strange nor unfamiliar.

You walked up to the podium, with Declan leading the way and found your spot just a few steps behind him. You couldn't hide your smile as you watched him recieve the award and despite the fact that you'd be standing behind him for his little speech, you could almost see that sparkle in his eyes, the pride that made his shoulders feel lighter than ever. 

"It's a true honor to be receiving this award. I'd like to thank the audience that showed their support time and time again both live at the studio, but most importantly from their homes through the TV. Of course I would also like to thank Corinium, none of this would have been possible without its hard working people. Their contribution has been invaluable." with that last sentence he briefly turned to look at you, to make sure you knew exactly who he was talking about. Like all these times during his show when he searched for your eyes. He always found you in a corner somewhere by the audience. You were his anchor during any fleeting moments of uncertainty, even if you weren't quite aware of it.

Turning back to the audience once again he raised the award with a proud smile, proceeding to leave the stage with confident strides and you following close behind.

The rest of the night went smoothly. You watched and applauded all the other winners. Declan introduced you to all sorts of old colleagues of his that came by to congradulate him and if you weren't so caught up with the idea of him seeing you as nothing but his assistant, you'd swear you'd spotted jealousy in his eyes when any of then attempted to flirt with you.

Once you were back at the hotel, stood right outside, you told him you fancied taking a quick walk around the lake.

"I won't take long, just want to get a good look at it by night. And then we can get a drink maybe?"

"Oh so now it's not controversial to be seen having a drink with my assistant?" he teased, taking a step closer.

"Her boss just got an award, I think they both deserve a celebratory drink." you replied in the same tone, motioning to the trophy he was holding.

"I will have to agree with you." he gave you a smug smile. 

-

After about 15 minutes you were back. The scenery had indeed looked serene with the light from all the houses resembling fireflies on the surface of the water, but the air had gotten a bit too chilly for the outfit you'd chosen. 

Walking through the lobby you caught a glimpse of an all too familiar figure with the corner of your eye, sitting at the bar further away to your right. You were expecting to find him in his room, but it seems like he was to impatient to wait for you.

"Celebrating without me?" you asked in a playfull teasing tone once you approached Declan, his back facing you. He was slow and reluctant to turn around and when he did your smile faded.

"What's wrong?" your worry peacked once you saw his glassy eyes "Declan, what happened?" he was still taking his time to compose himself before he decided to speak.

"Maud called. She must have found the hotel from Taggie. She's been settled in London and she's filing a divorce." his voice lacked emotion. Either he was still in denial, or had fully accepted what was happening and given that this was Declan, it all pointed to the latter. Silence fell, only the distant chatter of some group of friends further away could be heard. You were unsure of how you were supposed to reply to something like this, but Declan continued on his own after nervously running a hand through his hair. "I knew it was foolish to believe she'd come back." he scoffed bitterly, then took a large sip from the whiskey sitting on the bar counter. A sheer contrast. Just a few hours ago he was the happiest you'd ever seen him, proudly recieving the recognition he deserved for his work and now... You were witnessing his most vulnerable moment. If you were being honest, you never thought Declan was capable of letting his guard down, or even be affected so deeply by something. That didn't mean it wasn't painful to actually see it. To see how much he truly loved his family that was falling apart.

"You can go, I'll just finish this and be up too. I won't do anything stupid, this time." he couldn't bare to look at you, you weren't supposed to be the one having to deal with him while he was like this. He wasn't even expecting you to say something, but eventually you did.

"You know, I'm not the best at giving advice, but I have this one saying I keep going back to when things get a bit rough. 'It's probably for the best'. I mean, sometimes shit just happens and you don't get anything good from it, but other times..." uncertain if you were doing any good, you placed your hand on top of his on the counter. "If it's of any use, I know how much you loved Maud. I saw it all in the way you looked at her during that New Year's Eve party." you took a seat next to him, your words forcing his eyes to bore into yours. He wondered how you had noticed such detail and held on to it all these months later. 

"Love was never enough for her, or at least my kind of love. All she ever wanted was attention, money." you remained quiet, watching him as he let his gaze wander somewhere along the multicolored glass bottles on the bar shelves. "I gave her a second chance after she literally slept with another man, because I believed we could work it out and now she goes and does this just because I was trying to provide for her and the kids." he shook his head irritated. He'd never spoken to you so openly about his marriage and you were starting to feel a bit uncomfortable.

You weren't quite the fan of his wife, more like you hated every piece of her vain character. She had your blood boiling with her behaviour at that party. With how she craved and thrived from everyone's eyes being on her. With how she refused to be on the same wavelength as Declan and the way she so shamelessly cheated on him. This situation was only making you more furious, more depserate to let Declan know your deepest feelings about him. Still, you tried to refrain from using his divorce for such purpose.

"You can't really change a person, but you can change the way you react to them." he let out a heavy sigh, probably still too lost in his own thoughts to actually process what you were saying. "I can only begin to imagine how all this must feel. I'm really not the person to help with it in any way, unfortunately, because I never understood what you and Maud had. Jesus, I never understood Maud's mindset, because if I had a husband like you I'd never..." you trailed off. This was so wrong, you where taking it too far. You were inappropriately taking advantage of the situation. This was not the right moment. Hell, was there ever a right moment?!

Declan's fierce eyes were immediately back on yours. All sobered up from his aches in an instant. "You'd never what?" the words rolled off his tongue inquiringly. It reminded you of times during his interviews when he'd had his guests right where he wanted them, ready to reveal some big secret of theirs.

"I'd never even think about looking at another man." you admitted with a pounding heart. At that point there was nothing to loose and before you could register what was happening Declan's lips where crashing hard onto yours, letting you taste a dizzying mix of tobacco and alcohol as his sturdy hands cupping your face.

Placing your palms on his chest you wanted nothing but to loose yourself in the moment you'd been fantasising about for so long, but once again you had to put your morals above this and were quick to push him back. Slightly out of breath and anxiously, he waited for your explanation.

"If this is just some kind of reaction, a way for you to feel like you're getting back at her, we should stop now." you drew your hands back abrubtly, fighting the burning urge to simply kiss him as hard as he did.

"This isn't about Maud. This is about you and me. Are we on the same page?" it was your turn to choose to reply with a feverish kiss, much to Declan's relief. Just before he was ready to deepen it, however, you stopped him again, leaving him confused. "Not here. At my room in 5'." you had already risked being seen, you shouldn't push it.

"You never break character, do you darling?" he smirked to which you playfully rolled your eyes before making your way to the elevator.

No sooner had you entered your room than you heard a quiet but determined knock. You were quick to open, locking eyes with Declan and not once breaking contact as you let him walk in and pin you against the door when you closed it. The collision of your lips was harder than before, if that was even possible. Tongues already eager to explore more. Your arms flying around his neck while you felt his hands on your waist and soon one of his palms travelling south behind your thigh, urging you to lift your leg up and let him press against you. The change in position had you letting out a small whimper simultaneously with Declan's grunt. 

His mouth greedily trailed down to your neck and you pulled him closer with the leg you had around his hip. He could feel your heated pulse under his lips. Or was it just his own vibrating through his entire body? Unable to say, he let himself get drunk in the feeling of your soft skin for a little longer before he retreated, freeing your body from his touch but not his presence.

The only sound that could be heard was that of your laboured breaths as you stared into each other's eyes with a spectrum of emotions: hunger, lust, anticipation, uncertainty.

"You can't imagine how long I've wanted to have you like this." he was the first to break the silence, with a low growl.

"Is that why you basically called me a whore the other night? Was that oddly specific image part of some fantasy of yours?" you were starting to put two and two together. Your hands, still on his shoulders got to work, sliding off his black suit jacket. 

"Would it be so bad if I said yes?" his voice was just a whisper, his hand travelling up your torso to one of your mounds, while the other found purchase on your waist. The idea of you bending over for Tony did infuriate him, but partially because more often that he'd like to admit he fantasised about putting you in such position.

"Abdolutely not." you sighed feeling his palm squeeze you in such perfect way, further igniting the heat in your core. The fact that Declan actually saw you in such way was making you feel light headed.

What followed was a hot mess of kisses, touches, pulling and groping, until you'd discarded each other's clothes down to your underwear, leaving everything in a heap on the floor. Declan sat on the side of the bed and took your hand to guide you to straddle him as he settled further up. Shooting you a dirty look he decided to take control.

"The other way around, darling." a bit confused, but too hot and bothered to further question his command you did as he said and let out a chuckle once you were on his lap and caught sight of the two of you within the frame of the vanity mirror on the opposite wall.

"Hope there's no objection to me watching you come undone like this." his voice was sinfully low next to your ear as he hooked two fingers on your black lacey underwear and started pulling it off.

"Who am I to say no to you?" the use of the same phrase you'd said during dinner the other night, drove him crazy, gave him a sense of power over you that was intoxicating and you felt him harden through his boxers against your back as he growled "Good girl" with that delicious accent of his.

Once your last article of clothing had succesfully been discarded, his strong hands were on your thighs, spreading your legs further to reveal your folds. Caressing his way back up he made you lightly jolt once he found your clit, lazily circling it, watching your reaction through the mirror with lust clouded eyes.

"Dirty little thing, you've wanted this too." he murmured before leaving open mouthed kisses on your shoulder. You confirmed his statement by tilting your head to give him better access to the spot. His free hand once again found its place on one of your breasts as the one working on your clit moved south, two fingers gathering your arousal before slowly entering you. 

A moan was bound to leave your lips and Declan was instantly addicted. He continued his ministrations across your whole body, eager to hear more. His mouth on your neck and shoulder, his palm on your breast and his fingers slipping in and out of you. The sight was lewd, filthy but without a doubt far better than anything that had crossed either one's mind.

"Let me see your eyes, sweetheart." his touch not once loosing its pace as he waited for you to meet his gaze on the mirror's reflection adding a thumb back on your sensitive budle of nerves, once you did. 

"Declan..." you moaned. It was all getting too much, you felt your release approaching, eyes fluttering closed as you let one of your hands, that had been gripping the sheets, reach behind and pull Declan's hair, earning yourself a grunt.

"Let go for me, darling." his velvety voice  was all you needed to reach your climax, moaning a mix of his name and profanities, your body writhing in his steady embrace.

Once you had regained control of your body, you were quick to switch your position to face Declan and get rid of the last piece of frabric separating you, just in time to see him bring the two fingers he used on you to his mouth. 

"Delightful" sheer satisfaction was painted across his features as he moaned then let you get a taste of yourslelf with a sloppy kiss. It wasn't long before your hands were on his erection, eliciting a string of heavenly sounds from him.

"I'm starting to think you were getting pissed at me all the time on purpose." he was at your mercy the way you pumped him but still tried to get the upper hand. "Were you imagining me loosing my composure and fucking you senseless against the nearest wall?" and it was working you were getting undenianbly wet again.

"Other scenarios were further up my list if I had to be honest." you slowed down your movements but squeezed harder. Two could play this game.

"Such?" he was stifling a groan.

"Us here, in this hotel away from anyone who knows who we are." with each word you positioned him at your entrance, too impatient to finally have him fill you. You moaned in unison once you relaxed and let him get buried in your walls. Relishing the moment he kissed your lips and every part of your skin he had access to and you welcomed his insatiable hunger by finding purchase on his chest.

"Ready when you are, love." he broke character momentarily to let you adjust to the stretch, but honestly, nothing sounded sexier than checking in on each other. You started moving, lifting and circling your hips as he matched you with slow shallow thrusts, while lowering you back on the sheets.

The change in angle had you whining. Declan's movements began getting harder and deeper. Words where made redundant, both too far lost in each other's touch, in each other's bodies to make a coherent sound. 

His fingers returned to your clit causing your back to arch and allowing him to reach a new spot that had you seeing stars. He was close, desperately chasing his own release but determined to bring you to your second orgasm. 

"Give me one more, sweatheart, I know you can." he groaned once he felt your hands on his broad shoulders pulling him closer, letting his lips find that sweet spot on your neck. 

With an obscene moan of his name you were coming hard once again, your mind going blank with that euphoric feeling and Declan whispering sweet nothings in your ear that soon turned into profanities as he reached his own climax. 

Was this wrong, you couldn't tell, but you were sure that if it was you never wanted to be right.

"You do realise we have some talking to do." he pulled out and plopped down next to you trying to catch his breath.

"Can we do that when we get back? Preferably with me bent over your desk?" you replied with sass, chest heaving and mind still a mess.

"Christ, you'll be the death of me."

~

[lilimaginebean]

five days — 五日

synopsis: In which Kaiser fell in love with his tattoo artist, or in which Kaiser has only five appointments to convince you to go on a date with him.

note: omg no comment on grammy’s

prev | next

🥀 Day 4

"I don't know what to do with your uncle anymore. I asked him, I begged him, do you know how humiliating that was?" Kaiser said, covering his face in embarrassment.

You chuckled.

When you finally accepted the Emperor's request, he was on cloud nine. But you were there to remind him that life would never be easy for him. After his session, you casually told him that you couldn't go on a date with him until after the sessions, as his uncle has a rule about not dating costumers.

The moment you told him, you could see his soul leaving his body. How could he have been so unlucky? From that day on, whenever he was free, he would visit the studio and ask your uncle.

“Why does it even exist that stupid norm?” he asked confused

"Well... there was a girl who fell in love with a client, they started dating but then she found out he was cheating on her. So in the end, while he was in a tattoo session, the girl just tattooed him with the quote 'useless pig' and we almost got into legal trouble," you admitted, still remembering those frustrating days.

“Oh, it kinda of makes sense” Kaiser admitted, nodding “Still, what shall I do?”

"Maybe just talk honestly, or you could just wait until the last session," you said indifferently as you worked on a detail of the tattoo.

You really hoped he would take the second choice, because you had your final exams this month and you needed to study. Fortunately, his reading on analysing people must have helped him, because he started to rethink everything.

"Yeah, I mean I've been waiting for almost 4 months, it's not so bad to wait another one," he said, noting that he had a match in the next two weeks so the coach would probably add more training sessions.

You smiled at him.

"Well, even if it takes that long, we can talk about it. What do you want to do?" you asked him with a smile, excited just to think about having a date "Maybe... we could do something like arcade? or reading? Oh, I know a reading cafe, you would love it".

Kaiser titled his head, confused.

“Liebling, what are you even saying? I have already planned it” he said firmly

“What?”

He nodded.

"I've got everything planned after the first date, and it's going to be so great that you'll regret not taking me on sooner," Kaiser added proudly.

"Well, tell me how much it cost, and I will pay you half. You know?" you said.

"Have you only gone out with broke guys?" he said, raising an eyebrow, "I'm the one who asked you out, then I'll be the one who invites you to everything".

"Aww, really?" you softened to this comment.

"Yes, and I doubt you would even have the money to pay me half of it," he said in a teasing tone.

You rolled your eyes.

“Such a gentleman you are, in your own way” you said to give a quick look to the clock and see it was already striking 8PM “Oh wow, it’s already time to close the shop

Kaiser stared at the clock.

"It's really late, we should end the session here so you can get home safely," he added as he stood up and helped you tidy up.

Once everything was cleaned up, you both left the studio. You turned off the lights and closed the door to stare at Kaiser.

"So I guess this is goodbye," Kaiser said, still staring at you. His gaze always softened when he stared at you.

"Just one more session, it's not that much," you said, trying to comfort Kaiser.

"Yes, I can already see you thanking me for giving you the best date ever." he said with his eyes closed as if he could imagine that scenario, you hit him softly

"We'll see," you said, coughing softly. The low temperature made your throat a bit sore. Before you could cover your throat with your coat, Kaiser was already wrapping his scarf around your neck, "Thanks… but what about you?"

"Can't you ever thank me and stop asking me? It's nothing, I live near this place, you have a longer walk," he said while tying up your scarf as if you were a child "Also... I won't be able to visit you until the next appointment either, I have work to do," Kaiser admitted while thinking about how he had to take a flight to play a match.

You shook your head to show that you were not bothered.

"Don't worry, we'll meet in a month and I'll give you the scarf that day," you added firmly, while touching the scarf "I'll even wash it."

"You'd better, it's Cashemire." he replied in a serious tone "Anyways, after the next and last session, I will take you in the date. You don't have to do anything, just be ready and pretty." Having said that, Kaiser left you.

But as always, after five steps, Kaiser turned to look at you who were leaving the studio. He stared at you until you faded into the distance. Once you were gone, Kaiser started walking again, thinking about how he really couldn't wait for the date to come.

[mossyscavern]

A promise, kept forever

_____________________

“With all that’s been said and done, we’ll earn our rightful place!”

Megatron says to his solders, every word counts as he kept his vow as leader of the decepticons. He is built for this, just as the rest of the mechs who joins the decepticons.

“Our motto for cybertron is as such, especially for new soldiers like yourself, we will have our rights. With strength of our own, strategic smarts, the undying loyalty! Respect! Power-!”

“Engon!”

Megatron heard from behind, turns around in confusion and saw his yellow framed sparkling staring up at him, with big baby blues. The most precious thing in the warlord’s life.

“… and energon!” He repeats, with a proud smile.

He had prepared this whole speech for when he became first known, but he guessed he can improvise the speech a bit, just for his sparkling.

“These are the things we shall live for. To rise up for! So remember these phrases, we’ll fight for our peace and never grow in hunger ever again!” He shouts with a raised fist, the crowd of the future decepticon warriors going wild.

With that out of the way he descends down the stairs and returns to his pride and joy, lifting his baby up from the makeshift birth. “Hello my little warrior, why the sudden change in speech?” He asks, with a raised optic ridge.

Watching his sparkling pout, his servos pushing against the warframe’s chassis, giving megatron an idea what his baby wants while said baby whines.

“Ooooh… heh, all is fair in hunger and war.” He says, shifting his hold to cradle his heir, grabbing an energon cube from his sub space and holding it carefully for the baby bot to drink. “-- m e g a t r…--.”

He smiles down at his precious sparkling, his gaze softened as his baby yawned, placing the now empty cube away, he starts rocking the infant, lulling the tiny bot into recharge, walking back to his berthroom-.

“Lord megatron.”

The warlord hears, turning away from his sparkling to Skywarp, strange.. the seekers didn’t sign up in the ranks until-… megatron looks around.

Reality catching up to the war frame. He sighs deeply while seated on his throne. “Are you alright, sir?” The black n’ purple seeker asks in concern.

“I’m fine, Skywarp… any news with the insecticons?” He told his officer, feeling a helm ache form in his processor. “Negative, didn’t bother contacting us ever since our loss.” He told him, megatron gave a tired nod.

“We must prepare for another energon harvest, has Soundwave found another source?” Megatron asks. “Yes sir.” He says simply before speaking up again.

“It’s probably not the best time to ask but… how did you know about the energon shortage?” Megatron looks up, with a raised optic ridge towards the blue seeker. “Pardon?”

“Last thundercracker checked while reading one of your old memoirs… the words you described for peace was ‘strength of our own, strategic smarts, the undying loyalty! Respect! Power! And energon.. and it was before the shortage.”

Skywarp listed off, reminding megatron to give Thundercracker a praise for his memory bank. “So I ask again, lord megatron. How did you know?”

“I didn’t, energon wasn’t supposed to be in the speech in the first place. It was an improv that I did and it just… stuck as our motto ever since.”

He says truthfully, thinking back to when he had felt the proud saying that word, he smiled at the memory. ‘It was thanks to my sparkling that day.’ He thought to himself. “Huh… thank you sir, enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Skywarp says, running off to who knows where, shouting. “Thundercracker! you and screamer owe me 20 rust sticks, I fragging called it glitches!!”

Megatron shook his helm at that, checked the time, got up from his throne and walked to his berth room… things were never the same since.

Once there he prays to primus that his sparkling is alright and thriving, not realising…

That his youngling is closer than he thought.

_____________________

Done. Woo! New record!!

This… took a bit. I wanted to get this out of the way, mostly because I wanna do more babybee au’s but I still wanna write the heck out of parental megatron… so I’m doing both, cause yes.

I’d very much would like to keep doing these, whether they’re for comedic purposes, tragic but healing value… fluff and angst-.

… this version is where bumblebee is the lost heir, so… lost heir au anyone?

[riverofjazzsims]

Winter Holiday 20 years old 4'11 Orientation: Heterosexual-ish Occupation: Creator of smiles Location: Where the snow first falls

Winter Holiday is an unique individual who over the last few months has started to show, shall we say some interesting characteristics. For the moment though she is mostly human. She knows that she will have an interesting road a head of her and as her parents have made her aware, a partner during this journey will be essential. Mainly because no-one knows what to expect. Her parents defied the rules and loved each other and if that wasn't bad enough did what was thought impossible, create new life. See Winter has some magical lineage, her fathers, yes fathers, are a touch legendary and her mother seemingly just human was found to be a bit more than anyone could guess.

But we are not here today to talk about them. Winter is very much a mystery and as such, details about her will become known as we progress.

Here are some fun Winter facts: ❄️she absolutely LOVES the cold and snow ❄️oddly almost anywhere Winter goes there's either a drop in temp / starts to snow ❄️The birthmarks on her cheeks slowly appeared over the years and are cool to the touch ❄️She loves the color blue ❄️Dancing is her religion

More info will be forthcoming as we lead up to the submission deadline

Contestant Entry Rules:

❄️YA males only, any ethnicity or size welcome ❄️No Occults - caveat- winner will become immortal/long lifespan as Winter will be walking this rock of a planet for a very long time. ❄️Bio/brief backstory ❄️1 negative trait/ no custom traits ❄️No in game jobs assigned please ( totally fine for them to have one listed in their bio) ❄️3 skills of your choosing, max level 5 ❄️Likes/Dislikes please - 10 max ❄️Turn-on/off optional ❄️light /med CC or Vanilla is OK ❄️NO ALPHA hair ❄️No body presets ❄️Attire: 2 everyday/ 1 cold weather. If you don't have seasons please add your sims cold weather outfit as their 3rd everyday and I will change it over to the appropriate slot in CAS. All other you can leave in underwear and I will supply outfit if/when needed. Please keep in mind we will be almost always in cold weather when outside.

Side note: I use default skin (Bare by Lamatisse) and eyes (jack eyes remastered - but i had to "fix" them to work after some patch so your simmies will be using those in game Sliders are ok as I have the most popular ones. Note I will not add any new ones in my game so small tweaks may be made to compensate

❄️ I own ALL packs ❄️

Quick Questions for the potential hopefuls What is your favorite color Tell us what makes you naughty and what makes you nice ( yes answer both) Sims height

Contestant Submissions

Submissions deadline: Saturday Feb 15th @10pm CST. If I end up with more than 7 candidates , 7 will be chosen from the submissions. More to come if this ends up being the case

Remember to tag me or use #HTDF or #KillerBC So I can see your entry and reblog

Friendly reminder this is an 18+ blog, there will be mature themes involved. So the watcher needs to be at least 18 to enter 🫡

Not everyone will make it out alive.👀☠️ Some may even disappear. There will be chaos and drama and what ever else these damn sims throw my way.

Gameplay: There will be various gameplay mods being used throughout this BC including and not limited to Wicked Whims, and several Sacrificial Mods including extreme violence There will be some storytelling component to this, As with most BC there will be some challenges, group activities/dates and solo opportunities. Interactions will predominately be autonomous and I will use that to help build the story and game play. Some scenes/interactions may be replayed out using poses/animations Winter is looking for love but keep in mind there is a story playing out along side this and its a little on the dark side and yes not everyone will make it out alive. The only ones immune to the Grimms kiss will be Winter and her parents.

[tsumuus]

denki + 🎧/💍

him and the reader are friends who happen to be spending valentines together. and on valentines day, everything seems to be discounted for couples. why not pretend to be one to have some fun and save some money? but by the end of the day, the two start to realize they want to be more than friends...

Valentine’s Day had never been a big deal to you. In fact, you usually spent the day ignoring the influx of pink and red decorations, the sickly sweet smell of chocolate in every store, and the countless couples parading their love all over social media. But this year was different—this year, you had Denki Kaminari, your best friend and partner-in-crime, lounging on your couch with his phone in one hand and a bag of heart-shaped gummies in the other.

“Dude, look at this,” Denki snorted, turning his phone screen toward you. “Couples get half off at that new sushi place downtown.”

You raised an eyebrow and leaned in to look. Sure enough, the restaurant was running a Valentine’s special for couples only. Your feed was flooded with similar deals—discounted movie tickets, buy-one-get-one-free desserts, even an escape room that was offering a ‘lovebirds’ challenge at half price.

“We should totally do this,” he said, popping a gummy into his mouth. “Like, fake date for the day. Think about it—we could get a whole day of free and cheap stuff just for pretending to be madly in love.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Denki, that’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously genius.” He smirked. “Come on, unless you have a real date planned?”

You scoffed. “Please.”

“That’s what I thought. So what do you say, partner? Shall we become the ultimate fake couple for the day?”

You hesitated for a moment, but the idea did sound fun—plus, free food was free food. “Alright, but you better commit to the bit.”

Denki beamed. “Oh, I’m about to be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

Your first stop was the sushi restaurant, where Denki dramatically slung an arm around your shoulders as soon as you walked in.

“Table for two, lovebirds?” the hostess asked, smiling warmly.

You were about to speak when Denki beat you to it. “Yes, please! My sweetheart here has been craving sushi all week.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks at the casual pet name, but you forced yourself to play along. “Yeah, my wonderful, amazing boyfriend knew exactly what I wanted.”

The hostess gushed about how cute you two were as she led you to a table, and soon, you were enjoying half-priced sushi rolls. But somewhere between the casual banter and Denki reaching across the table to brush a stray grain of rice from your cheek, you started to feel something shift. The jokes felt a little less like jokes, and the playful touches lingered just a second longer than necessary.

Next was the dessert café offering a ‘sweetheart special’—a free dessert for couples who fed each other at least one bite. Denki, ever the performer, wasted no time scooping up a bite of chocolate mousse and holding the spoon toward you with an exaggeratedly romantic gaze.

“For you, my dearest,” he said, barely suppressing a grin.

You rolled your eyes but leaned in anyway, taking the bite. The mousse was rich and smooth, but you hardly noticed because Denki’s eyes were locked on yours in a way that made your heart stutter just a little.

“You’re supposed to feed me now,” he said, his voice softer.

You hesitated only a moment before mimicking his actions, offering him a bite. He took it without breaking eye contact, and for the first time today, you wondered if maybe this wasn’t entirely just a game for him either.

The last stop of the day was the escape room. The challenge was to “escape Cupid’s Trap,” and while you managed to solve the puzzles quickly, the final challenge required you to ‘prove your love’ by standing in a heart-shaped spotlight and declaring a heartfelt message to your ‘partner.’

Denki stepped in without hesitation, pulling you close. “I don’t need a spotlight to tell the world how amazing you are,” he said, and this time, the teasing lilt in his voice was barely there. “You make everything more fun, and honestly… I wouldn’t mind doing this for real.”

Your breath hitched. “Denki…”

“I’m serious,” he said, his grip on your hands tightening just slightly. “I thought today would just be a fun little scam, but somewhere along the way, I realized I actually really like being your boyfriend—even if it’s just pretend.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Unless… it doesn’t have to be pretend?”

You stared at him, heart pounding. All day, you’d been pushing aside the little moments, the lingering touches, the way your chest tightened whenever he said something sweet. But hearing him say it out loud made you realize—you wanted this too.

A slow smile spread across your lips. “Maybe we should do this for real, then.”

Denki’s eyes widened for just a second before he grinned. “Wait, really?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I think we’d be pretty great at it.”

His face lit up, and before you knew it, he was pulling you into a giddy, slightly clumsy hug. “Best Valentine’s Day ever.”

And just like that, the fake date wasn’t so fake anymore.

valentines event | masterlists

[shrillow]

Winter Flowers - Ch 3

sylus x reader; dragon!sylus x human sacrifice!reader

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3

NSFW: gore, smut, cunnilingus

You spend the winter in the dragon’s lair. 

At first, neither of you seem to know what you’re doing. Where to start.

Shall he begin with the dead languages of a people whose last descendants no longer walk the earth? Will he show you the fashions of the world? Should he recount the doctrines of the hundred religions he knew? Perhaps he still possesses those old star maps which sailors once used to brave the seas?

In the end, Sylus begins with a story. Many stories. Whatever your hand brushes—an instrument, a piece of furniture, a weapon—he unravels its history with the steady, patient rhythm of his voice.

“It was an heirloom passed down through a royal bloodline that ruled two thousand years ago . . .”

“The fae believed that sword was forged by a sun god when he was banished to the mortal world . . .”

“This was a popular instrument used for herding sheep. You place your fingers over these holes and blow here . . .”

From sunrise to sunset, the dragon recalls the stories of things with eidetic precision. To your delight and amazement, Sylus has a seemingly limitless memory. And despite the spontaneous nature of your lessons, the dragon is a surprisingly good teacher.

“Only because you’ve proven yourself to be a prodigious student.” The affection laced through his words softens his smug grin.

You blush and bury your nose back into the astronomy text you’re translating.

Nights in the cave are your favorite, for you and dragon select a book from his expansive collection and read together.

Sylus’ tail loosely curls around you while you decipher a collection of mariners fables. Something about a sea serpent who’s hunting a group of sailors after they stole a legendary treasure from it—a brooch? The interpretation is frustratingly vague.

It’s slow work, and the ink has either faded or smeared, but you persevere through the ages it’s endured to be read by you.

The dragon corrects you occasionally, but otherwise is content to rest his head in your lap.

Through the night, your voice fills the cavern, drowning out the winter noise. So engrossed in the book, you don’t notice when Sylus grows quiet.

You glance down to see if he fell asleep, only for you to catch him staring at you. His gaze is honey in the light. Skin like the golden shade of the wheat fields. Even his silver hair seems to catch fire and all his sharp edges are burned down to something tender.

You have not touched each other since the rut, and you dare not now. Why would you? You are not his mate.

Oh, but it’s moments like these, where time turns to liquid and the earth quiets until it’s just your and the dragon’s hushed murmurs, when you want to melt into him and never leave.

How long can you pretend? At least one more night.

“Why’d you stop?” he murmurs, “Are you bored?”

You shake your head. “I just lost my place.”

Sylus lifts himself up, and you mourn his closeness until he gently grasps your hands beneath the book. “Would you like me to take over?”

You ignore the way his thumb circles your knuckles. “Only if you teach me the rest tomorrow.”

His next words leave a dull ache in your chest.

“I’ll teach you everything I know.”

So as the world darkens to its last season, and the snow quietly gathers outside your alpine sanctuary, you and the dragon weave a tapestry of the universe, of everything that once or continues to sleep below the ageless stars.

Sometimes, your mind wanders back to the village. To your siblings and father. To Tara. Not because of some longing for those sleepy huts and worn fields. Only because that is the nature of memory, and as all these treasures that pass through your searching hands inevitably remind you of them.

“Tara would love this.”

You flip through a manuscript on herbology, searching for a more effective salve for Sylus’ injuries. You recognize only a handful of the plants mentioned, Tara would know at least half.

Sylus’ tail flicks out. “Who?”

“My friend,” you elaborate, “She’s a healer. She knows every plant in the valley, when they grow, which ones work together and which don't.”

You grind the dried herbs Tara had stuffed into your bag before you left. She’d almost given you her entire stash, even though those same plants would not be seen again until spring. You're grateful for her generosity as you peel back the dressing and gently clean the dragon’s wounds.

His injuries are surprisingly slow to heal. It may be weeks yet until his full strength returns. You suspect it is due to whatever magic the bounty hunters used to subdue him. The very thought makes your blood boil every time.

“Why were those men after you?” you ask Sylus. You force your hand to steady as you apply the new salve.

He tries to look over his shoulder at you, only to pull at the stitching. “Ngh. I thought you would’ve guessed by now, sweetie.” He holds up a bloody bandage. “Healing blood, remember?”

The answer does not sit well with you.

“And the collar?”

“Useless runes and mage tricks,” he sneers, “I’ve broken every one they’ve put on me.”

Images of the dragon collared flash through your mind. You’re extra gentle when you clean around his neck. “How often do they come?”

“A couple times a century.” He shrugs. “It’s to be expected. Dragons are a valuable commodity.”

Your hands pause over his skin. “What do you mean?”

“Our blood heals. Our scales make excellent armor. Witches use our tears to brew love potions.” You stare at him horrified. Sylus just smiles. “I was once told our livers are boiled to a paste to reverse one’s aging.”

“You’re just messing with me now.”

“I haven’t even gotten to my best parts.” His eyes take on a sudden, unmistakable heat. 

Only Sylus would joke about something like that. Regardless, your face starts to burn.

Sparks fly from his mouth when he laughs. “It’s nothing to worry about, sweetie. They would have to kill me first, and I’m very difficult to kill.”

Perhaps it’s the trick of the light, a dance of shadows, but the red veins on his chest catch your attention as he heaves with laughter. You swear that they have shifted closer to that hollow above his heart.

Difficult, you worry, but he never said impossible.

-

You and Sylus discover your affinity for music.

He presents you with a zither, a fiddle, hand drums, and panpipes. He gifts you sheet music and ancient canvases depicting grand banquets so you can study the hand placements of the musicians who were painted into the scene.

Most of the time, however, you learn by trial and error, copying from the simple melodies you learned in childhood. You hum those tunes to yourself, plucking at your pipa until you strike the right notes.

“You have a good ear,” the dragon compliments, “have you played before?”

“No, but I sing,” you tell him, “mostly to calm the herd. My father played the lute, but it broke and he never bothered to fix it.”

Your focus drifts to the pipa in your hands. A couple strings are missing, but with some tuning, the remaining ones ring out clear and strong.

“Do you miss him?”

You stare at Sylus. He works on a strange contraption, various tools and something he calls a magnifying glass sprawled before him.

You follow your father across the hills as he plays a tune to guide the flock back to the village for shearing and butchering. You listen to his easy strumming as you fall asleep by the hearth. You hear its strings snap under your brother’s young fingers.

“Not in the way I should,” you say.

Sylus looks up. “There’s no wrong way to miss a person.”

“Is there someone you miss?”

The question catches both of you off guard. 

“Sorry,” you amend, looking away, “I shouldn’t pry.”

Sylus doesn’t say anything at first. He fidgets with the object, turning it over and over while silence permeates between you.

“The music stopped,” he observes, “could you play it again?”

A few days later, you find the device he was working on in your room. It’s a mechanical bird, with articulating metal wings and a beak that can open and close with a twist of a gear. Its eyes are the same shade as yours.

-

Tell me what you desire.

His eyes are fountains of truth, pouring with the ageless, nameless, and forgotten. Waiting for some soul to drink from its waters.

Take what you want.

Is it that easy? You open your hands and feel them grow heavy with the weight of this world.

Do you want more?

You bring your hands to your mouth and sate yourself until you are bursting.

Poetry, music, medicine, dragons.

How strange to think that you were scared to plunge beneath the surface. What might you find? What might you unleash? Only to find that it is a bottomless well; the more you consume, the deeper it becomes.

Not all of it is good—of course it’s not.

War, disease, tyrants, curses.

You recognize the beauty, the cruelty. And as any true glutton, you drink more in the hopes of understanding it.

Selfish girl.  Your mother's ring leaves a scar on your cheek as she strikes you. Wanton daughter.

When Sylus offers you starlight from his hand, you hesitate.

“I thought dragons were possessive creatures.”

“I was unaware that generosity would damage my reputation," he quips, “Won’t you at least try this on for me, Dear Shepherd?”

Shimmering diamonds of various sizes are fastened to a silver chain. Fractals of light splash onto the walls. Only the river that passes through the valley has sparkled so magnificently.

“We don’t wear jewelry in the village.”

Jenna’s pendant dangles near your face as she reads to you. You watch your reflection in its scarlet body. Your village boasts no riches and disdains all vanity. But Jenna—

It is her greatest treasure. It is her only treasure. Yet, sometimes you catch her grasping the pendant like a knife to her chest.

Sylus considers you for a moment, a small cluster of lights glint in his eyes. “Then it’s a good thing we’re not in the village.”

Sylus turns you around. His breath caresses the back of your neck as he secures the necklace. “There,” he breathes, “beautiful.”

Your mouth is painfully dry. “It’s heavy.” 

“Beauty should not be taken lightly.” His hand twitches—you think he’s going to touch you—but Sylus bends down instead, hovering over your shoulder like an owl.

“It’s yours if you want it.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” His gaze drinks you in. “This was once a betrothal gift. A man promised his beloved that he would fashion a necklace from the heart of a star.”

“Very romantic,” you hum, “but was the price worth it?”

“I’m sure the star didn’t mind,” Sylus reassures, “they don’t have feelings, after all.”

One beauty for another. The whole earth is merely an appetite to satisfy. What are you within ouroboros’ hunger? The eater or the eaten?

With the dragon looking at you the way he does, you feel like you are both.

-

Your chamber slowly fills with trinkets.

New bedding, chests full of garments, bronze mirrors, all sorts of musical instruments, and towers of books.

"Even the greediest dragon would be impressed by your hoard," Sylus comments, but he never asks for anything back. Nor does he demand for something in return.

You understand sacrifice. You are descended from those who brokered a deal with an ancient power and irrevocably bound your fate to him thereafter. He is owed your soul, your body. And yet . . .

You stand beside Sylus before a grand tapestry.

“What is this?” you ask him.

“The world,” he replies, “at least some of it.”

Your mouth falls open. Continents and oceans are rendered from thousands of dyed threads. Even the borders are lined with gold patterning. Artistic portrayals of various plants and creatures fill the bare spaces. Foreign words hover across specific parts of the map.

“Where are we?”

“Not here,” he says.

You trace your hand down the old weaves, frowning at his words. “Did my people come from these lands?” As you examine map, your attention catches on a set of words floating above a strange looking animal. “What does this say?”

A strange expression crosses his face. “‘Here be dragons.’”

You realize the creature beneath the words is supposed to be a dragon, but it’s no dragon you’ve ever seen. Triple-headed, slavering, and grotesque. No expense was spared in portraying the dragon as a beast.

“You’ve been alone a long time, haven’t you?”

He doesn’t deign you with a response.

He claws at his skin. He fights against a fever that will ravage his body until all he knows is the mark that claims you as his. You have never known a creature more hateful towards its own nature. He told you several times that you could leave; you think he wishes you did, but not for the reasons you think. 

“Sylus,” you choose your next words carefully, “Why did you make the deal with my ancestors if you were just going to let us go?”

A stillness ensnares the both of you in a kind of limbo, tethering you to a precipice you’re not sure you would survive.

“Do you think I would force you?” His voice is the current in the air before a lightning strike.

You aren’t under any delusion that he isn’t capable of violence, however, you’re not prepared for his anger—

No. Not anger.

His body is coiled tight, brow furrowed and eyes so dark and red like gaping wounds. When your hand searches for his, he retreats as if you are a pair of dancers forbidden from touching.

“Of course not,” you tell him, meaning it.

You think he might answer you, but then he hesitates, and you know you’ve lost him. “Then you need to stop.”

His words feel like a brand.

“If you don’t,” he continues, “you’re not going to like the answers.” 

-

Sylus doesn’t talk about what happened. Neither do you.

The dragon speaks in offered books and mechanical gifts, through muted smiles and old literature.

His quiet touches lessen. His lingering gaze fades.

You hold your silence like a noose around your neck.

You miss the Sylus who clutched you in the dark, helpless with need. Who kissed your scars and named you huntress. Who could not pretend that he was a thing without feeling. 

Only in the secret hours after midnight do you let yourself imagine tiptoeing into his chamber and slipping into his nest, allowing his body heat to close around you like a summer day.

From outside, just before sleep catches you in that lovely dream, you hear the baying whine of something suffering, some creature dying.

-

The weather eases; you explore the mountains with Sylus.

He shows you glades that hide the best views of the valley. He takes you to waterfalls from which you drink the freshest water you’ve tasted. You meander through the woods at sunset when the light turns the snow pink and orange. You can see the lake and a herd of caribou making their way across the open plains. You’re too far away to be of any concern to them. Meanwhile, the dragon ambles by your side, scoffing at your jokes and flicking snow at you.

You ask him no more questions about the past. It turns to smoke when Sylus’ eyes settle on you. He plucks a winter camellia and threads it into your hair. 

“I’ve read about this before,” you say as you gather twigs and start weaving a crown.

His eyes flash. “Oh?” 

“A knight gives a flower to a princess.” You creep toward him until your coats brush and your breaths mingle in the cold air. “She tells him to take her back to the palace . . .”

His tail brushes your leg. “And?”

You toss the crown onto his horns. “Then she asks him to make her mooncakes!”

Sylus’ laugh echoes wonderfully through the mountains. You wish you could bottle the sound.

He brings you out in the evening when the skies are clearest, and he points out all the constellations.

“To the west is the Tortoise, it shares a star with the Old Fisherman. And over there—a bit higher—is the Tiger and the Crane . . .”

You stay up well into the night listening to the dragon spin tales from memory. With his head tilted to the heavens—face open and white hair glowing with the light of the full moon—it reminds you strangely of Tara.

You shiver as a sudden gust barrels up the mountain.

“Cold?” Sylus brings his coat tighter around you. With a snap of his fingers, a flame flickers to life in his palm.

“Thank you.” You sigh at the warmth. “That’s a pretty neat trick.”

Sylus hums in agreement, though his mood turns melancholic. “I learned it from a witch.”

“That’s something you needed to learn?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Dragons are creatures of magic. All magic is a matter of patience,” he explains, “and will.” A hesitant smile begins to form. “I believe you have much of both.”

Your heart flutters. “Do you really think . . . ?”

Sylus stares at you incredulously. “You could call down the stars if that is your desire.”

There’s that look in his eyes—an unwavering intensity you’ve only seen glimpses of since the rut—before it’s gone again.

“Besides, it’s a useful skill to know when you leave,” he goes on, “people will be disinclined to mess with a girl who can wield fire.”

-

You don’t notice it at first. How can you, when you spend every day with the dragon?

You are removing the last of Sylus’ bandages when you realize how dull his scales have become.

After that, you notice everything else.

There are bruises under his eyes when he reads to you at night. His hair has lost its luster. The red veins on his chest glow brightly as if inflamed.

Valley-born that you are, you’re unfamiliar with the signs of starvation.

His indifference vexes you. It terrifies you.

You’re paranoid that Sylus will disintegrate from your very touch. You are one sleepless night away from wringing all his dreadful secrets from his throat.

Fear. What a violent animal.

The dragon guards his silence and pretends that nothing is wrong.

-

You watch him with his automatons, tinkering away at their intricate joints and handmade gears. You follow the curve of his back as he hunches over his worktable, lost in his craft. It’s so human. 

You can’t help but stare at his profile. His lips are slightly parted; you want to rediscover the shape of them, find common ground between soft skin and stilted breaths. The light behind him casts a golden halo around his head. It reminds you of sunsets in the valley, how the mountains’ silhouettes are carved from the brilliant hues of a dying sun.

How beautiful. How unreachable.

Although you’re grateful for everything he shares with you—the more you learn about the world, the more questions you have about the dragon himself.

How did you learn this? Where did you acquire it?

Why did you come here? Why do you remain?

The answers to your questions cannot be found in a book.

You pore over mythology texts, bestiaries, religious anthologies, and epic poems. All are more or less the same.

An evil dragon terrorizes a kingdom; a monster kidnaps the princess; a winged serpent tricks the hero into killing his beloved. 

You open a hunting manual on a whim, but immediately regret picking it up.

‘A dragon’s underside is the softest part of their body. As such, make your first incision under the jaw. Continue slitting around its mouth, then down the stomach. Now, you can begin peeling back its skin—’

The words sink into your flesh like rot. You slam the book shut.

You think you know why Sylus has been alone all this time. Why he will always be alone.

-

The dragon is not yours.

Stitch stitch stitch.

Yet, he comes to you when his wounds have torn open. You strip off his ruined cloak and don’t question it.

He has given you—books, tools, jewelry, and music. He has given you himself in the only way he can.

It’s enough it’s enough it’s enough.

You thread a needle through his skin. It feels like sacrilege.

His long fingers grasp your shaking hand, warm and unafraid. It feels like worship.

“You could never hurt me.”

A dragon’s roar is swallowed by the violent storm. Nothing warm-blooded can survive the cold.

The spot beneath your ear tingles.

“Sometimes I want you to hurt.” 

His gaze does not waver. “I won’t stop you.”

Tell me of your shame, you want to say to him, as I have told you mine.

“Are you dying?”

“If only fate were that kind to me.” His mouth twists into a mockery of a smile that quickly evaporates when he sees your stricken expression. You wait for him to say more; he doesn’t.

Oh, he might give you the world, but he cannot give you this.

You gather his tattered old cloak, torn and bloody, and neatly fold it in your lap. It is good fabric. You want to believe that you can fix it.

“I will leave come spring,” you tell him.

Sylus’ expression is indecipherable. He strokes the back of your hand, committing every vein and knuckle to memory. “Then we mustn’t waste our time together.”

-

One night, when the sky is tinged a deep purple, you glance down into the valley and notice the blazing lights of your village.

You motion to Sylus. “Look.”

Several dozen lanterns drift into the night sky while music trickles up the mountain. Although you cannot see the villagers, you know they’re gathering in the town center for the dances.

“I can’t believe it’s already the new year,” you breathe. If you close your eyes, you can almost smell the sweet tarts you and Tara made together.

“Is that what you’ve been celebrating,” Sylus muses, “I wondered what all that noise and revelry were for.”

You turn to him, realizing that the dragon has been watching your village celebrate for the last thousand years without knowing the reason. Has perhaps sat alone on this very ledge to watch the lanterns pass over his head and the festivities down below.

“Stay here.”

You scurry back to the cave to retrieve your pipa.

His tired eyes settle on you when you return. Even now, you want him. Whatever is left of him. Whatever will remain after tonight, even if it falls away like water through your fingers come morning. You will remember him like this: snow in his hair, phantom smile, and bleeding gaze heavy with all the things he cannot say.

You press your fingers to the strings, and begin to sing.

-

He comes to you at night.

You gasp when you blink awake and see his silhouette above you.

He wordlessly slides in behind you, under the furs. It is muscle memory when his arms snake around you and his face finds the crook of your neck. He carries the scent of pine and woodsmoke and . . . something sharper. His skin is hot to the touch as you press your hand against his chest and prompt him to look at you.

A faint tendril of red mist spills from the corner of his eyes.

“Do you want me to leave?”

His voice sounds like cracked glass.

Without a word, you guide him back down until his skin is against yours. You would savor this moment if sleep did not find you all too soon, even as the air smells faintly of blood.

-

There comes a day when Sylus slips off into the mountains and does not return. 

You suspect the worst.

The winds are fierce, but your will is iron. You trace his path down the mountain and through the trees, listening for the beat of dragon wings.

You call his name but all you receive is the mountain’s echoing response. The snow and wind beat against you, punishing your determination.

You trudge through the forest past sunset, until the moonlight casts the woods in a lonely grey. Still, you find no sign of the dragon.

Did he really leave? Did hunters get to him?

One fear after another hurtles through your mind, urging you farther and deeper into the forest. You brought your spear, having learned from experience that predators have no issue encroaching on the dragon’s territory.

What else did your village get wrong? What would happen to your people if Sylus could no longer protect them?

What would you do if you cannot find him?

A violent heat pulses from your nonexistent mating bite. Your legs and face are numb, and you can barely see in front of you.

You snap your fingers, whispering a word of power just as Sylus taught you. Sparks fly off your trembling fingers. You try again and again until the smallest of flames swells to life amidst shadow and snow.

You can only maintain it for a few more moments before your foot catches on something and you crash to the ground.

The flame gutters out. The winds wail through the barren trees. You lift your head, wipe snow off your face. You look back to see what made you fall and you scream.

The unseeing eye of a caribou stares back at you. Its blood oozes from the gashes along its body and pools beneath your hands. Still warm.

You stagger to your feet, and nearly trip again over another carcass.

An entire herd of reindeer lie in mangled puddles, slaughtered in the dozens. Steam rises from their bodies. Torn limbs and viscera stain the once spotless snow.

Just like the sheep.

You grip your spear until your knuckles turn white, the grain of the wood biting uncomfortably into your skin.

The trees close over you like the bars of a cage, their shadows smothering out light and sound. You cannot see where you came from.

Between the trees, you see the dragon. But everything about him is unrecognizable to you.

Sylus crouches over a carcass, tearing and consuming its flesh with razor-like teeth. Black spikes jut out from his skin. He’s elbow-deep in gore and red smoke spills from blood-bright eyes when he spots you.

You run.

-

His screams shake the mountain.

You hide in the dark with your spear, keeping watch outside the dragon’s lair.

You wait for days. You wait long after his cries have died out.

You should leave.

The thought pecks at your mind.

The dragon will not return.

You stare out across the mountains as another storm rolls in. Snow gathers in a frenzy, the world so bright your eyes sting.

The dragon is mad.

You read one of Sylus’ books to distract yourself.

The dragon is a liar.

He emerges from the whiteout like a spectre. He is as you remember him, a quiet ancient power exudes from his decaying body. But when he stumbles upon seeing you, you see his mortification.

“I thought you would have left already.”

Your grip tightens around your spear. “You killed my flock.”

He does not deny it.

“Is that why you’ve remained,” he asks, “to extract my apology?”

Your nostrils flare. “I would have the truth.”

“It will ruin you.”

You regard the dragon. Does he think you are a child in need of protection? You are not so feeble-minded, you never have been. He allowed you to believe that he was sick, that he was dying—and even after seeing the worst of him, he resists. So you will force his hand.

You unsheathe the dagger he gifted you, and slice it across your arm.

The dragon springs toward you and freezes. Red mist pours from reptilian eyes, his claws extend and his skin splits to reveal mangled spikes. Sylus’ knees dig into the earth as he collapses and emits a vicious growl. The red veins writhe across his chest.

You quickly wipe the blood away and press a thick bandage to the cut. “You didn’t just need a mate,” you whisper, “you also needed blood.”

Sylus bows his head. “Abhorrent, am I not?” His distorted voice slices through the air, guttural and raw. The red mist dissipates, his scales slide back under his skin. “How do you feel knowing you’ve bedded a monster?”

Monster. What a cruel word.

“I would not forsake you for this,” you say.

His eyes flutter before they harden in disbelief. “One second,” he threatens, “is all it would take to raze the entire valley.”

Tara and your family flash through your mind. You take a steadying breath. “But you haven’t yet.”

“I found a way to delay it.” With a mate. With blood—your blood.

There’s something else he isn’t telling you.

“Why did your rut come early?” 

He’s quiet for so long, you think he might turn and fly away for good. Until he admits, “I didn’t take her blood before she left.”

“Why not?” you press, “What happened last time?”

The look on his face will haunt you for years to come.

“They sent me a child.”

-

The dragon steals glances at you, waiting for you to speak—to leave—anything. He moves as if to touch you before thinking better of it.

He anticipates your censure, but you cannot find the words to reassure him.

“Only those who’ve had their first blood can be chosen.”

“I know.”

Your blood continues to soak the bandage, though you barely feel the injury’s sting.

“What did you do?” you ask.

“I took her across the lake, and told her to never return to the valley,” he answers.

Your village never spoke of the last girl who was chosen, and you, like a sheep, never asked. Never wondered about their lives until your fate mirrored theirs. How could your village send a child up the mountain to be his mate believing what they do about the dragon’s brutality? 

You don’t realize you’re crying until Sylus wipes your tears away. “I never harmed any of you. I swear it.”

He looks as distraught as you feel.

“I believe you,” you rasp, and he sags with relief. “But Sylus. Couldn't you have returned her? Demand we choose someone else?”

His expression shudders with pain. “The last time I did that, they put her to the torch, convinced that she disappointed me.”

You feel sick.

Memories of the harvest season. Children’s games. The mead hall’s lively music and Josephine’s patient guidance as she walks you through a new embroidery technique—

“I am sorry.” 

—All tarnishes as Sylus kneels before you. He seems to be the only solid thing keeping you anchored to this moment. Diminished as he is. Self-named monster that he claims to be. “You deserved to know before I ever placed my mark on you.”

Remorse darkens his face when he glances at your bleeding arm. You see his hunger. Sylus takes a sharp breath before he retracts a claw and prepares to cut his own palm. His hands shake.

And you—you cannot resent him for withholding the truth. Not when it takes everything he has to resist the bloodlust.

Would a monster cut himself for someone else? Would he yield when told to stop? Would he teach you how to chart the stars? How to speak an ancient language? Would he read to you long into the night, or ask you to play that song one more time?

You stop him before he can draw blood. A bewildered, helpless expression crosses his gaunt face.

“I am already cut,” you say, raising your arm to his mouth, “Why let it go to waste?”

-

His strength returns. The red veins retreat.

You lie in his nest, sleepy and surrounded in his warmth.

“Is there any way to fix it?” you ask the dragon, “This—this bloodlust?”

He sighs and shakes his head. You press yourself against him in a way you haven’t since the rut. 

Who cursed you?

The question sits heavy on your tongue as you follow the haloed edges of his lean body. Hard and soft in equal measure. Violent and innocent.

You press your hand over the hollow of his chest. “Did any of them stay with you, Sylus? The way I had?”

He swallows.

“You’re the only one.”

-

You stare down into the valley. For a village of inconsequential size, it casts long shadows across the white expanse.

They sent me a child.

The dragon may have lied about the sheep, but your village elders—well—what more did they lie about?

You cannot let it happen again. But if you return to the village, would your family and neighbors heed your words, or would they put you to the torch as well? What would stop them from sending another little girl up the mountain?

By the time Sylus' rut returns and his bloodlust needs to be sated, you’ll be nothing but rot beneath the earth.

Your neck burns from the very thought when you hold up the finished cloak to Sylus.

“I’ve made some repairs. Do you like it?”

Sylus cautiously takes the cloak, examines the patched holes and new fur lining with round eyes. His fingers run along your even stitching, stopping at your embroidery. An elaborate pattern of wildflowers and knotwork Elder Josephine taught you long ago.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you say, “I also replaced the old fur with the wolf’s pelt. It should be much warmer now.”

As if the dragon has to worry about the cold. You mentally shake yourself as Sylus slips the cloak over his shoulders, surrounding himself in a field of flowers.

“Your skill knows no equal,” he praises, halting your train of thought. He bites his lip, looking uncharacteristically rueful. “I will probably ruin it again.”

“Then I will mend it again.”

And again and again and again.

A light blush tinges the edges of Sylus’ ears. You watch him smooth down the collar of his cloak, and the memory of the hidden words you embroidered there flash in your mind.

You glance away. “Think of it as something to remember me by.”

In a hundred years, the next woman may find a trace of you here, and know there is nothing to be afraid of.

-

You find yourself staring across the lake more often. Dreaming. Planning.

You have studied the maps, languages, and histories. But there is only so much you can learn from a book.

You spot Sylus some distance away, crouched low. His hair blends in with the snow. He extends a hand towards a fox peeking out from the underbrush. It snarls at the dragon before scampering away.

Something in your chest twists. It's a familiar sensation, so why does it hurt so much more now?

What you're leaving behind feels larger than what's ahead of you.

When Sylus notices you across the clearing, his regal horns shimmering in the winter sun, you think you will long for him forever.

He crosses the distance between you, and says simply, “Thank you."

“You're welcome,” you reply, because you know what he means.

Sylus leans down until your foreheads nearly touch. “May I?” he asks. When you nod, you feel his mouth brush your temple as he inhales deeply. “Your scent haunts my dreams.”

Your breath quickens.

“What do I smell like?”

His gaze settles on you, revealing the jewel of his eyes in all their warm devotion.

“Like flowers.”

-

You do not want winter to end. But end it will.

The frozen lake gradually thaws. Although the snow never truly stops in the mountains, the slow melts creep up through the forests.

You wander through the mountains for one of the last times. The sun casts its glare across the pale landscape, but the persistent cold is not easily vanquished.

You come across a meadow overflowing with wintering blooms. Their colors stand out against the blinding white. You run your hands over their delicate yet hardy petals.

Yellow daffodils and primrose. Snowdrops and winterberries. Jasmine and blue violas.

You follow the meadow until you’re on the outer edge of the mountain proper. Out here in the open, its strangely quiet.

Vibrant red flowers pepper the mountainside, standing out against the pristine white. They sway in the breeze, their sweet fragrance calling to you.

You've never seen their like before. As you bend down to pluck one of them and bring it to your nose, you hear the beat of wings.

The flower is ripped from your hand. You don’t have time to cry out as Sylus wraps a hand over your nose and mouth.

“Don’t breathe!”

But it’s too late. You feel your mouth go dry and your heart beats madly against your ribs. You latch onto Sylus as your legs start to give

“Fuck,” he growls, covering his own face. Your grip slips as your skin breaks out into a sweat and your palms turn clammy. Sylus holds you fast, and drags you away the meadow. You watch his lips move, but you might as well be underwater from the way you can’t make out a single sound.

“Sylus, what—” Inks spots of color flood your blurring vision. Your heart is racing so fast you think it might explode. You swear you hear your mother calling for you.

You reach for the dragon but you no longer have control of your limbs.

When you look at yourself, your skin is melting off your bones.

Your mind fractures. You fall through the seams of reality, to a place where not even the dragon can follow.

-

Heat. Ash. Blood.

You wince at the intense light. Your eyes are slow to focus, all you see are warping colors and loose shapes crossing your vision.

You cannot feel your body. You wonder if you have one.

“ . . . hear me?”

What? You try to speak, but you’ve forgotten how.

“Do you remember your name?” A face sharpens before you. Hauntingly familiar and achingly beautiful. 

What is a name? Why do you need to know?

Your silence shatters that pretty face. His voice breaks as he babbles apologies and pleas at you. 

You want to help him, you do. But your tongue feels swollen and some of his words don’t make sense to you . . . you want to wipe away his tears but you cannot find your hands.

“Do you know who I am?”

Of course you do.

“Sylus."

His eyes flutter, and he releases a soul-deep, relief-filled sigh. He presses his forehead to yours; you realize he’s shaking.

“I thought I lost you.”

When you brush your knuckles against his cheek, they come away damp. “What happened?” 

“Those flowers,” he explains, “can fell even the greatest animals. Inhale their scent and you’ll sleep forever.”

You swallow, your throat feels as dry as kindling.

“How . . .” You survey your surroundings. You’re back in the cave. Tara’s herbs, your mortar, and a bowl of dark liquid lie beside you.

Your mouth tastes like iron and salt. “Thank you.”

Sylus reaches for your face before pulling his hand back at the last second. “Consider it part of my debt to you.”

You take in his tense posture—how he shelters you with his body even though the danger is internal. His tail is tightly coiled and his claws are out. There’s a deep furrow between his eyebrows. You have not seen him so fierce since the rut.

Oh, this won’t do.

“Is that all we are to each other,” you ask him, “debts and deals?”

His throat bobs. When he doesn’t answer, you sit up and run your fingers down his face, across his sensitive chest He makes small, airy gasps that light a fire in your core.

“If I still bore your mark,” you murmur, “maybe you would be more honest with me.”

His breath hitches.

You wait for him.

You do not have to wait long; Sylus cups the back of your head and then he’s kissing you.

-

In some ways, it’s much like the rut, but in many others, it’s completely different.

Sylus kneels between your legs at the edge of his work table. His tools and unfinished projects lie discarded on the ground. He drags the flat of his tongue against your sex and drinks the juices that spill from your twitching entrance. You roll your hips against his face and welcome the searing heat of his tongue inside you.

He whines as you stroke his twisting horns, from base to tip, sharp enough you could prick yourself. He swirls his wet lips around your clit before sucking deeply on the tender nub. His fingers slip between your folders with ease, and crooks them until they press against that spot inside you.

“Sylus!” You arch off the table, grabbing the edge as wave after wave of pleasure cascades through your body. He continues to work your clit as you clench around his fingers.

The dragon gazes up at you, face and ears flushed, panting wildly.

You pull him to his feet and crash your lips against his. His mouth opens immediately. You taste yourself and moan as his hands slide up your body and begin undoing the rest of the laces of your dress.

His mouths down your neck, lingering where his mark used to be, before continuing lower to pepper your bare shoulder with kisses. He pulls down your sleeves until your breasts are exposed and he can take one into his salivating mouth.

You fumble with the buckles of his trousers, only for him to brush your hands away.

“Let me taste you again,” he implores. He gives you several small kisses on your lips and you sigh in response to the onslaught of affection. “Let me do this for you.”

“Don’t you want . . . ?” You gasp when he teases your entrance with his fingers. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him as close as you can to yourself. You feel his hard length and your thighs shake with need.

“What I want—” Sylus strokes your breasts with his other hand “—is for you—” you hear his knees strike the ground once again “—to cum on my face.”

His breath teases your clit, already swollen up with renewed interest. 

“Can you do that for me, sweetie?”

You nod weakly, before Sylus buries his face between your legs and proceeds to steal your ability to think.

-

He kisses you before you fall asleep. He kisses you during your daily walks through the mountains. He kisses you while he spills deep inside you, exchanging names with a shared breath, until you smell like fire and he of wildflowers.

He kisses you as if he's starving. Perhaps he is. Perhaps he always was.

“I thought—” He shivers against your lips as you trace his naked spine “—that you merely tolerated my rut. You only stayed for what I could teach you.”

You brush away the lock of hair from his forehead. "Couldn't you tell?" you say in disbelief, "I stayed for you."

His eyes widen.

You look away, suddenly shy. If you still had his mating bite, you think it'd burn a hole right through you. "But I have no right to covet you."

You are not his mate.

Sylus threads your fingers together, your interlocked hands are molten gold in the firelight. He kisses your knuckles as he stares at you with a reverent expression. And you realize, suddenly, he's only ever looked at you that way.

“You always had that right.”

You are not his mate, but you are everything else.

When you make love to him, it is less impatient than the wildfire from before. The two of you are more like embers, not yet ready to die.

-

The night sky above the city is alight with every color. You watch them explode and pop and burst across the lake. 

“What’s happening over there?” you ask Sylus.

He sits beside you on the cliff, one leg propped up while he lets the other swing beside yours.

“Tarus City has its own celebrations,” he explains, “this time of year marks the opening of the gates to the underworld, when demons began entering the mortal realm.”

“Is there any truth in that?”

“Perhaps.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Why don’t we find out for ourselves?”

Your eyes light up. “Is this fearsome dragon asking me to attend a festival with him?"

"That depends entirely on your answer."

The joy in Sylus' eyes is more addicting than the rarest of wines. When you extend your hand, he meets you halfway.

"I'd like nothing more."

To be continued

Can also be read on ao3!

[w2soneshots]

omgg i’d love to see like youtuber!reader and bach, maybe like a silly little q&a? or even one of those cute but kinda cringe couple challenges from like 2010 loll ( like the chapstick challenge or smth ). obviously don’t feel pressured to write this if you don’t want to!! love ur work btw 🩷

Q&A -Italian Bach

words: 0.7k+

warnings: suggestive content.

summary: you and Bach answer his fans weird and funny questions about your relationship.

notes: hello lovely!💗 Thank you so much for your request (I apologise for posting it so late🙈). This was actually so much fun to write and it’s also my first fic for Italian Bach, hehe. I hope you enjoy!!✨🫶🏼

"Hello m' lady," Isaac greeted me at his apartment door, stepping aside to let me in. I giggled before softly pecking him on the lips.

We were both quite new to the whole youtuber thing just eight months ago. We met through a friend and decided to film a video together. The fans started shipping us, as they do, and something else ended up blossoming between us.

"Ready to film?" I asked, after we'd spent a little while chatting on his sofa. "Yup!" He jumped up and then reached for my hands to pull me up and off the couch.

He brought another chair into the spare bedroom so we could both sit at his desk, then he turned the camera on and we got started.

"Hello, my little gremlins," he began in a strange voice, I didn't bat an eyelid since I was fully used to his antics. "Today I have my girlfriend here to answer some of your questions. So get comfy and maybe get some popcorn or something."

I shuffled in the chair as he pulled out his phone. "Okay... Jacob asked, do you guys fuc-" he faked a gasp and I raised my eyebrows. "Jacob that is absolutely disgusting, you little virgin man... ew, but the answer to your question is yes. Anything to say on the matter y/n?" I breathed out a laugh. "Nope. I think you covered all bases."

"Next! Lillian, ah... can never trust a Lillian," I furrowed my brows. "What why?" "I have my reasons. Okay, she asked when did you realise you loved y/n?" "Aw, that's cute!" I smiled.

"Umm... probably when I got some of that poosay!" "Isaac!" I playfully slapped his arm. "No no, I'm joking! It was after we'd just finished filming a video and we ordered dinner and I realised that even the boring, simple things I always enjoyed doing it if it was with you."

"Oh my god, that was actually such a sweet answer, the tiktok editors are gonna eat that up." He chuckled as he knew I was right.

"Do you wanna read this one?" He asked. I nodded and took the phone. "Wolfman57 asked when we want kids," my eyes widened as I read the message. "First of all, I love your username, secondly that's a big question to ask, wolfman." Bach stated.

"Why don't we get back to you in a few years?" I opted. "Yes, we shall do that," Isaac seconded. "Moving on... oh lord, Sam asked, what's the biggest animal you think you could fit up your ass?" "Woah Sam, that's crazy," Bach grimaced.

"Why don't you take the phone back?" I said and he quickly took it. "I'm sorry your eyes had to witness that my love," he joked.

After quite a few interesting questions we were onto the last one. I leaned my head on Isaac's shoulder so that I could see the phone. "Okay... finally, Laura asked, what's our favourite thing about each other?"

"Ooo, I like this!" I grinned. "My favourite thing about you is your ability to find the good in any situation. Though an honourable mention is that fat ass," he answered.

I scoffed. "That was sweet and you know what... I'll take it. Okay, now yours, my kind sir, would be your funny little jokes and the way they make me belly laugh. Along with the mullet," I smirked as I ran my hand over the back of his hair.

"Thank you for watching till the end, obviously y/n will be back soon so put any requests of things you want to see us film in the comments!" "Nothing dirty," I added. Bach chuckled before turning the camera off.

"That was perfect." "You're perfect, now let's go get some lunch," he responded, standing. "You know... if we order something, that usually takes like twenty minutes to come..." "ah... what do you suggest we do while we wait ma'am?" "I don't know, a lot can be accomplished in twenty minutes," I replied with a cheeky smile.

In and instant he'd grabbed me and flung me over his shoulder. I let out a shriek and giggled as he ran with me into our bedroom.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 1 - Pick

Wolfstar, February 1, word count 610

Previous part First part

CW- Child abuse referenced, Suicide referenced

One year previously 

He’d had to pick his words carefully when he’d been ordered to Grimmauld Place after he’d disappeared with Barty at Regulus’s funeral. One wrong word and Walburga would make him suffer for it. He had the tiniest hint of stubble rash from Barty’s unshaven face, so before he left he quickly rubbed some moisturiser into it, hoping she wouldn’t notice it. He donned the best suit out of the ones he’d been provided and took the car that had been sent for him to Grimmauld Place. 

Upon his arrival, Walburga wasted no time in grasping his chin with her sharp fingers and twisted his head this way and that, before promptly slapping his face. He felt her claw-like nails slice through his skin, they were always painted a bright red, so the blood of her victims didn’t show. He refused to give her the satisfaction of putting his hand to his face. He ground his teeth against the pain until it was gone. 

“I thought it was made profoundly clear that all relations with which you prefer to fraternise were to cease. How exactly is sneaking away from your own brother's funeral to drown yourself in cheap drinks and fraternise with the man who led your brother astray following our implicit orders?” When he didn’t reply she slapped his other cheek, her nails dug in deeper this time, and he let out a gasp of pain, her eyes glimmered with delight. 

“He loved Reggie; he just wanted to say goodbye. Why couldn’t you just let him say goodbye?” Orion stepped in when Walburga’s nostrils flared with anger. 

“That is the last of this nonsense, Sirius. If you do not find yourself a suitable companion, we shall arrange your match ourselves. Any more… Indiscretions and you will be brought back into this house with the addition of a bodyguard to ensure you walk the correct path. Do I make myself clear?” Sirius knew an out when he heard it. He bowed his head respectfully. 

“Yes, Father, I understand,” He said demurely, keeping his head bowed as though in penance. 

“Good, you may go. We shall have your itinerary for the next week sent to you; we expect perfect behaviour,” Orion added. Sirius nodded and left without looking up.

He slid back into the car, and it took him home. The driver, Kreacher, had been with the family since before Sirius was born. He looked at him in the rearview mirror and didn’t even widen his eyes at the blood dripping down Sirius’s face. He was long immune to the horrors Walburga inflicted on her sons. This was mild compared to other punishments he’d endured as a child. He exited the car without a word and unlocked his front door, heading straight to the liquor cabinet before climbing the stairs to his ensuite bathroom to start cleaning the scratches on his face. They’d send someone to cake him in make-up when he was expected at a function. They had an excellent makeup artist. 

As Sirius watched the pink water wash down the drain, he wondered for a moment how long he’d be able to take this before he broke as well. He turned off the tap, grabbed his bottle of whisky and went back to bed, tearing his suit from his body as he went. His face hurt, and so did his heart. He made a decision to keep reaching out to Barty. He’d get a no-contract phone, so his parents wouldn’t know he was still in contact with him and help Regulus keep an eye on him. It was the only rebellion he could think of right now.  

Next part